“Fuck the Ghost Walk,” Terry said. “Just do it. We just saw a black who-knows-what out there. And hurry up. But don’t wait for me. I’ll be right behind you.”
“What?”
“I’m gonna find out what’s going on. Now go!”
Tom turned to leave and something stepped out of the darkness behind him. It padded forward, growling, until it was only inches away. Tom shined his flashlight on the creature. It was a coyote—sickly and suffering from what appeared to be an extreme case of mange. Most of its fur was missing, and its hide was covered with raw, red sores. Its eyes were two black holes, but its teeth were white—and looked very sharp.
“T-Terry…”
Moving slowly, Terry turned around. His eyes widened when he saw the animal, but he didn’t panic. He inched his hand toward his pocket, intending to grab the second flare. Noticing the movement, the coyote growled louder. Terry stopped, lowering his hand to his side. Then they heard something slithering toward them from the rear.
Both men turned in time to see the darkness move. Dozens of black tendrils hurtled toward them. Behind the darkness, their friends stepped forward. They saw Russ and Tina and Cecil, as well as Sam and Rhonda, and another man that neither of them knew. All of them seemed to be suffering from the same illness that plagued the coyote. Beyond them was a stone circle. The darkness seemed to be clustered there, seeping from the circle like water through a sieve. It bulged, as if there were an invisible bubble still holding its bulk at bay.
Terry closed his eyes. “Oh, Ken. I’m sorry, man. I’m so fucking sorry.”
The darkness hovered inches from their faces, twisting and writhing. It looked solid and yet incorporeal at the same time, defying natural law. The tentacles waved at them, waiting, stoking their fears higher. Tom began stuttering through the Lord’s Prayer. Terry screamed.
Terry?
This voice was different. It took Terry a moment to recognize it.
He’d lied to Ken earlier. Yes, he’d slept with Ken’s prom date, Alicia Hartlaub, on the night of their junior prom. What he hadn’t told Ken—what he’d kept secret all these years—was that she hadn’t been awake when it happened. After the prom, they’d all gone back to Artie Lewis’s house. Artie’s parents had been gone for the weekend, and the teens held a four-keg party in their absence. Bobby Marsh and Chris Sipe had brought along a bottle of Boones Farm Strawberry wine, and Terry traded them an ounce of weed for it. The party was in full swing. Everybody was hanging out and laughing, having a good time while Foreigner and Foghat and David Cassidy blared from the stereo. Ken wanted to go out into the backyard and get stoned with some other kids, but Alicia had declined. Ken asked Terry to keep an eye on her while he was gone. At first, that was exactly what he had done. But as Alicia drank more wine and chased it down with beer, she’d begun to get sleepy. Terry had escorted her upstairs to an empty bedroom, and stayed with her to make sure she was okay. But he was horny and drunk, and when she passed out, he’d taken advantage of it. It wasn’t rape—or at least, it hadn’t seemed so at the time. But later, when he’d sobered up, Terry felt guilty for betraying his friend. He lied about it for weeks, before finally confessing what he’d done to Ken.
He’d never given Alicia the same respect.
The guilt had haunted him for years.
The darkness changed, forming a human shape. Alicia stood in front of him, looking exactly as she had all those years ago. She was close enough to kiss. He smelled the wine on her breath and saw the tears in her eyes.
Those eyes were black.
Now it’s my turn, Terry.
“I’m sorry…” he sobbed. “I was drunk, Alicia. I didn’t mean to.”
“Terry!” Tom screamed. “Help me. It’s my uncle. He’s back, just like when we went camping!”
Terry couldn’t tear his gaze away from Alicia. She leaned closer, her lips pursed.
Kiss me, Terry. Kiss me like you did that night…
“Get away!”
“Terry!” Tom shrieked. “Stop him! He’s going to put his thing in me again! Oh, God, help me.”
As their fears peaked, their ghosts laughed. Then the darkness lunged forward and consumed them, leaving behind only withered husks.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“There.” Adam pointed at a garage two houses away from his former home. “Behind Merle’s wood shop.”
The three of them huddled together in the driveway, hiding behind the blue minivan. Levi had convinced Adam to pull himself together.
Maria frowned. “That doesn’t look like a wood shop.”
“It’s not anymore,” Adam whispered. “After Merle died, he left everything he owned to his ex-wife, Peggy. He sold antiques out of the house. She put all of it up for an estate auction—the house, his antiques and personal belongings, the wood shop. Everything. I’d left LeHorn’s book in there the night we confronted Hylinus. I got it back that same night. After what happened with Tara, I buried it behind the wood shop.”
Levi groaned. “You buried the book unprotected?”
“No. Give me some credit, dude. I sealed it in a plastic freezer bag and put it inside a cigar box. Then I duct taped the box shut. It should still be okay.”
Maria stifled a yawn. “Why did you bury it?”
“Because of what it was. What it had caused. I couldn’t just get rid of it. I’m a writer. I can’t throw a book away, even a book like that. But I didn’t want it around, either. So I buried it, just in case I ever needed it again. I hoped I wouldn’t, but I guess now we do, right?”
“You did well,” Levi whispered. “You did very well indeed. You were guided by the Lord.”
“God?”
Levi nodded.
“Fuck God,” Adam exclaimed. “Fuck Him in his all-powerful, all-knowing benevolent ass!”
“Adam.” Levi’s voice was like ice. He grabbed Adam’s arm and squeezed. “That will be enough.”
Adam pushed Levi away and laughed. The sound carried down the alley.
“Be quiet,” Levi hushed him. “You don’t believe in God?”
“Hell, yeah, I believe in Him. And I hate the motherfucker.”
“I said that’s enough! I’m not going to let you blaspheme like this.”
“You want to kick my ass? Go ahead. I don’t give a shit. What—just because He’s always been nice to you, you’re required to kiss His holy ass? Well, screw that, Levi. Maybe He’s been good to you, but the only thing God’s ever done for me is shit all over my life. This whole thing was His fucking fault, man. Do you understand that? I prayed to Him. Begged Him. I fucking begged. And God just laughed. He took everything from me. I’m not Amish like you. I’m not one of the favored ones.”
“I’m far from favored,” Levi protested. “And I’ve had plenty of unanswered prayers. You think I don’t know about suffering or loss? You think I haven’t questioned God? You know nothing about me.”
“I know that you still love Him, even if you’re not Amish anymore. And I know that I still hate him—more and more every day. All I want to do is spit in His fucking face. You want the truth? I wish the motherfucker was standing here in front of me right now. I’d fucking say it then, too.”
“Then I pray that your wish never comes true.”
“Look,” Maria whispered, quieting them both. “I’m going on well past twenty-four hours with no sleep here, and I’m about to fall over. Can we please get on with this? You two can argue theology and steal lines from Pitch Black later.”
Levi appeared confused. “Pitch black?”
“It’s a movie, and it doesn’t fucking matter. I need some sleep before we do whatever it is we’re going to do with this book. Let’s just sneak over there and dig it up and go home before we get caught. Tired as I am, I really don’t feel like sleeping in a holding cell tonight.”