One entry referred to a vertical file on Chepachet history, which Erik couldn’t find anywhere. With a sigh, he went back to the reference desk.
Both the director and his partner were glued to their computer screens and wouldn’t acknowledge him, so he went around the desk and stood in front of them. He couldn’t help noticing that the director was fooling around on E-Bay looking at lace curtains. Your tax dollars at work.
“Ah, you’re not supposed to be back here,” the director said. “It’s employees only.”
For emphasis, he pointed to a sign on the wall.
“I need to find the vertical files on local history,” he said.
“Ah, those don’t go out.”
“I know they don’t go out,” Erik said, as if speaking to a child. “I don’t want to take them out. I just want to look at them.”
“What for?”
“What is this, twenty questions? Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m doing research for a story I’m writing. I need to see the files. This is a library, isn’t it?”
Erik made a silent vow to speak to someone on the town council about this idiot.
“Ah, yeah. It’s just that no one ever looks at those files.”
“Well I want to look at them.”
The director looked at him for a moment, then decided Erik meant business and was likely to cause trouble if he didn’t get what he wanted.
“Ted, could you show this guy the vertical files and open them? I’m kind of busy right now.”
The dwarfish man scowled and walked off into the stacks of books at the rear of the library. Although both of these men were in their early thirties, they acted like old men-like trolls, Erik thought, guarding their little treasures under the bridge. God forbid that anyone would actually want to use any of the library materials. They must both have political connections, he thought, or else they’d never be able to keep their jobs.
The vertical file was exactly that-a tall, green metal filing cabinet filled with files-most of them misplaced. When the librarian opened the door, it kicked up a wad of dust that must have been fifty years old.
“Let me know when you’re done so I can lock it back up,” Ted said, then shuffled back to his computer.
The files seemed to be in random order, and most weren’t even labeled. Erik pulled out a packet of old photographs of the World War I veterans’ reunion filed with an old Providence Journal article about fly fishing in Western Rhode Island. None of it made any sense. It was almost as if no one wanted anything to be found.
After going through half of the top drawer, Erik was just about to give up when he came across a photograph and an article from the Chepachet Call, dated July, 1943.
“Ancient Altar Stone Found by Youth” the title of the article said. Underneath the title was a reprint of the photograph in the file.
The photo was of a huge black stone, an altar stone, set in the center of a clearing in the forest. Although the size was difficult to judge in the picture, the thing looked to be about eight feet long, three feet wide, and raised about three feet off the ground like a bed. What really troubled him, though, was that the thing was a deep, shiny black, like obsidian. It looked exactly like the rock that Todd had described.
The article went on to say that two boys had been playing in the woods and had found the rock. The boys had found George Fleming, the reporter and editor for the local newspaper, and he had accompanied them and had taken the photograph. Fleming speculated in the article that the stone might have been an ancient Viking stone-the Vikings had visited Newport and other areas along the East Coast, so why not here?
Behind the article, though, Erik found another one from the same writer and the same paper, proclaiming the whole thing a hoax. In the article, Fleming apologized for making up the story and involving the boys. The altar didn’t exist and never had existed, he said.
Erik frowned and made photocopies of both the articles and the pictures. He’d have to show this to Todd-and maybe to Dovecrest and the Sheriff as well.
2
Erik stopped at Burger King on his way home and brought lunch for everyone. He found Todd in his room coloring on a loose leaf notebook.
“What ya doing, Sport?” he said.
“Nothin’,” Todd replied.
“Well it looks like you’re doing something.”
“I’m just coloring a picture.”
Todd looked over his son’s shoulder at the drawing, and his heart chilled. It was a picture of the black rock in a field with a full yellow moon overhead.
“Is that the rock you saw?” he asked.
“Yeah. That’s it. But nobody believes me.”
“I believe you, Todd.”
“No you don’t. You’re just saying that to make me feel good.”
Erik took a deep breath, then pulled the pulled the photograph from his notebook and extended it towards his son. The boy’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.
“See, it is real,” he said. “I told you it was.”
“Yes, it is,” Erik said. “Now, come on down and let’s get some lunch. I brought you back a burger and fries.”
“Ok,” Todd said.
“Oh, and just one more thing. Don’t tell your mother about this. At least not yet. Not until I figure out what to do about it.”
“Ok, Dad. Just…just don’t take too long.”
3
Seti spent the afternoon playing with the teenage girl until he became bored with her. She was pretty and innocent, but he knew that she was a slut and must have enjoyed it. They all did, even when they cried and screamed and whimpered. They all wanted it, deep down inside. He’d done everything to her that he could imagine, and had let his followers have her as well, while he watched. But now the girl was little more than a zombie, staring at him glassy-eyed and without emotion, no longer conscious of him or of her surroundings. Like a rotten fruit, she’d spoiled much too soon, he thought.
He looked at her for a moment and almost felt sorry. She looked like she’d been in a train wreck. Her hair was tangled and plastered with dirt, blood, and other bodily fluids. Her left eye was swollen shut and her nose was battered and broken. If he could have felt any emotions, he would have felt sorrow. But instead, he just felt empty. Besides, he knew she had loved every minute of it. They all did.
“Be patient,” the voice cautioned. “Wait until the sun goes down. Then you will bring her to me and I will begin the process of becoming complete.”
“Yes,” Seti said. “When the sun goes down.” He only had an hour or so to wait. And then his dreams would be fulfilled.
“I will go gather the others and prepare,” he said, “for when the sun goes down.”
Then he kicked the girl to the side of his small camper and went out to gather his followers.
4
Dovecrest had planned to go and see the boy and his father, but he’d seen Erik drive by in the morning, and he never did quite find the energy to stop by in the afternoon. Now that the sun had set, he knew he had waited too long and would have to act on his own. He’d forgotten how the voice could influence you-sometimes, the influence was just to do nothing. It seemed to tap one’s strength, one’s willpower and one’s energy. Sometimes it caused people to do things; other times it caused people to just sit on the couch like a vegetable, and watch the world go by.
Yes, Dovecrest thought. It’s been working on my mind.
He knew that tonight was something big, something important. For one thing, the entity had left him alone for the last hour or so-he no longer felt its presence like a heavy blanket over his face. That meant it was occupied with other things. Like the girl he had taken.