Читать книгу The Legend Unleashed - L.S. Strange - Страница 8

Chapter 4

Scott kept checking the side mirror as if he expected to see someone, no something, looking back at him. Soon the cemetery was out of sight. With that, he heaved a sigh of relief and could concentrate on the road ahead.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked.

“What?” Scott replied, barely realizing that Michael was talking.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why…what?” Scott stammered trying to think of something quick. “Oh, a loose wire.” He hoped it sounded convincing, although it sounded empty. Scott believed that children had a natural instinct to alert them when adults were not being truthful.

“How did you get it started?”

Scott mumbled, “What is it with the thousand questions?” Aloud he replied, “I just went over the connections and made sure everything was okay. After I reconnected what was loose, it started.” Uncontrollable, Scott added a little chuckle. To his ears, it sounded like the laugh of a lunatic, but it seemed to be working.

Michael was not deterred. “How did it get loose?”

Scott felt as though he was going to lose it. He managed to maintain enough control so that no one suspected he just had the hell scared out of him.

“Probably the washboard ruts in the road loosened them.”

“I’m glad you fixed it.”

Scott nodded and continued driving. “Thank God he doesn’t have any more questions, or I would have gone insane,” Scott thought. He kept going over it in his mind. How could the wire have come off and the van stay running? Then a comforting idea jumped into his head.

“I bet Bob did it. Yea, yea, that’s it! Bob did it. He woke up while we were gone and decided to play one of his juvenile practical jokes. What a butthead!” Scott thought.

Although this thought temporarily consoled his traumatized psyche, deep in the back of his mind, Scott knew that was not the answer. He did know that he did not want to know what the real answer was. With that, Scott forced these notions from his head. He had to focus all his attention on driving, or he would get everyone killed. After only three miles, the dirt road veered back onto pavement again. He was glad to see this because the jarring of the rutted land was scrambling his brains.

The panorama of the high county was captivating. Lush meadows softly nestled between the majestic solid mountains. The van glided over the pavement mile after mile. The minutes melted into hours as they rode over the winding road to their destination. Scott could not believe that the men were still asleep; it was almost as if they had been drugged. Must be the sleep of the dead. Soon the boys joined them, and Scott was the only one awake. Finally, as the sun was directly overhead, Scott pulled off to the side of the road to consult the map. He had to go “old school” because he didn’t have any access on his android cell phone. Scott followed with his finger the thin red line indicating the route.

“Okay, we are here, and we need to be here. Just a few more miles, and we should see the campground.” Feeling good about maintaining the proper course, Scott placed the map back in the glove compartment and pulled the van onto the road.

At the next fork in the road, Scott veered to the left and began the steep climb up the mountain. He shifted into a low gear to get more pull from the engine as the grade increased. The extra power was needed not only for the van but the trailer as well. Slowly the van ascended the winding road. He prayed no one was coming down the mountain this way because the road was so narrow there would be no place for him to let someone pass. Scott felt as though he were conducting The Little Engine That Could, inching its way up the steep grade. The task was grueling and nerve-wracking. He glanced down out of his window to the straight drop off at the edge of the road. It was a long, long way down to the bottom. Large fir trees looked like saplings, and the undergrowth was just a blur of color. He held an iron grip on the steering wheel because he was afraid of heights. Each second that passed was agonizing, and Scott wished this part were over. Everyone else was still snoozing.

“These guys can sleep through anything!” he thought aloud. Then realized since there was no cell service, that means no tablet or phone. The boys were board and slept.

When they reached the summit, the route went straight for one eighth of a mile, and it felt as though he were driving at the top of the world. Then it started to descend the backside of the mountain. Scott let out a sigh of relief and kept it in the lowest gear so he would not use the brakes too often causing them to overheat. Many times, he had nearly come to a complete stop on the hairpin turns and then let it coast a hundred to two hundred feet, giving the brakes a rest before using them again. The ride down felt much quicker than the tormenting passage up.

At the foot of the mountain, a large valley spread out before them. He reckoned that on the other side of the valley was the campground. He could see the edge of the forest and knew, concealed in it was their target. Scott glanced at his watch. “Three o’clock, not bad time at all,” he thought.

Once again, the van left the pavement to a dirt road. This time, the jostling caused all dozing occupants to stir and grumble. The boys were fidgeting as soon as they realized they were almost there. Both were beaming and had their hands and noses pressed against the window, trying to see more and quicken the pace.

Before long, they had crossed the valley and were at the edge of the forest. The sentinels to greet them were robust fir trees watching every movement as dutiful guards should.

Scott stopped the van. Red and blue lights were flashing everywhere. Their beams ricocheted off the foliage, making it look like an outdoor disco. Ambulances and police cars blocked the road and entrance to the campground. Emergency personnel were bustling about taking no notice of the group. A few large craterlike holes were by the edge of the chain-link fence that ran the perimeter of the campground. It appeared as though massive trees had been uprooted, leaving gaping wounds on the land. Yellow police caution tape covered almost everything in all directions. Scott stared as paramedics loaded stretcher after stretcher into the waiting ambulances. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that a sheet was pulled up over the person’s face on all of them. Then as one was being loaded, an arm fell out from under the sheet. It hung there limp and lifeless. The appendage was mangled, and chunks of flesh were missing exposing stark white bone. Thick dark blood ran down it and dripped from the fingertips. A paramedic gently placed it back under the sheet then wiped is hand on his shirt, leaving behind a nasty crimson stain. Scott and the boys rushed out.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott objected in a mixture of anger, curiosity, and frustration. The jolt of the sudden stop awakened the remaining slumbering passengers. Looking around and realizing they had halted, they disembarked the vehicle. All of them stood together staring, frozen to the spot. They all started talking at the same time.

“What’s going on?”

“This isn’t good.”

“What does it mean?”

“Hey!”

“Dad, why can’t we go in?”

John spoke but was not heard over the din.

“Shut up!” Ron yelled. After all was quiet, he said, “What did you say?”

“Some debauchery has happened here, and they are conducting an investigation,” John replied.

“Who talks like that?” Bob snorted.

“Shut up,” Ron said directly to Bob, then turned to John. “How do you know that?”

“Only intelligent people, something you know nothing about. It’s obvious by the people here.” Mocking Bob, he continued as if speaking to a simpleton. “The men wearing badges are police, and the ones with the medical clothes are paramedics.”

“I’m gonna whip your ass!” Bob exploded.

Ron stepped between them and, with one hard look, stopped Bob from further action and comment.

John continued, directing his comments to the rest of the group, “Something of catastrophic proportions has occurred, and they are cleaning up the destruction left behind. From the carnage, it appears to have been a massacre.”

“What does that mean?” Bob couldn’t help himself.

“It means something bad happened here.”

“Bad?” Bob hollered directly in John’s face. This time, Ron shoved Bob very hard.

“You freaking mook! The opposite of good! Bad! Get it?” Ron’s hands were balled into fists. He had an incredible urge to punch Bob. Just one punch would make Ron feel so good. Scott jumped between Bob and Ron putting his hands out, one on each of their chests, to keep them apart.

“Enough. Cool off.”

A small breeze kicked up. It gently blew, and as it encircled John, it whispered, “J–o–h–n.”

John looked up, but nothing was there. His eyes scanned the area around them. The clamor of the nearby scene took over, and the breeze died off.

“Did you hear anything?” John asked the group. The men looked at him as if he were just being a pain when they had to figure out what to do.

Michael looked squarely at John and asked, “You heard your name, didn’t you?”

John’s attention was now riveted on his nephew. “Did you hear it too?”

“No, it was the way you looked that made me think that.”

John looked hard at Michael and resolved that he was telling the truth and prodding him would be to no avail. “Did I really hear it? No, it must have been the wind, maybe the name of one of the emergency staff,” he thought. John dismissed it, but Michael did not and was still looking at John to see what he would do next. He returned his attention to the problem at hand.

Ron glared at Bob, then took a few steps back. Bob was still thrusting his chest out with his arms jetting out behind him trying to be intimidating. He looked quite silly.

“Son of a—” Bob stopped short. He remembered his promise to Laura that he would not curse on this trip. She didn’t want her son exposed to that sort of language, and if he did not honor her wishes, she would never defend him against the family again. Bob stammered for a moment then bellowed, “I mean, what now?”

“Move along,” a police officer commanded as he approached the group. He looked tired and irritable. His rumpled uniform, and the stubble on his chin said he had been there for a long time. His eyes were blood shot, and he squinted as he peered at the group.

“What happened?” Scott asked curiously while straining to get a better view.

“Well…” the officer looked him over and decided it would be all over the news soon anyhow. “We don’t know for sure. All the patrons were killed within the last twenty-four hours. None were able to make it to safety.”

“Killed? It looks as though they were slaughtered,” John interjected.

“Not slaughtered!” the officer snapped. “Could have been a gas explosion, but we don’t have enough evidence to publicly state any conclusion.”

“Is there a homicidal maniac loose we need to be worried about?” Ron asked.

“Nah, don’t worry about a thing. Now you have to move along.”

“But…” Scott started.

“No buts, you can’t stay here. I’m tired, folks. Just go, find another campground. The mountains are full of them. Don’t make me have to arrest you for obstruction.”

“All right,” Scott replied.

The officer looked relieved that he did not have to expend the little amount of energy he had left. Scott turned to face the others. All of them stood there looking at him for an answer. Ron tried to save Scott.

“Hey, we’re in the mountains, the high country. The cop’s right! Surely this can’t be the only campground. Why don’t we drive down the road until we see another? Or, I could use my data and Google one.” Scott didn’t miss a beat and eagerly picked up where Ron left off.

“Yeah, that sounds great. There’s one just up the road according to Google Maps.” He looked at everyone to see if this idea would fly. Scott knew he couldn’t get a response on his android phone, even with the data roaming on. There was no connection. John, totally upset, began to whine.

“We can’t just aimlessly drive around without knowing where we’re going! We could be out here for days, no signal, nothing! No one would find us!”

Ron stated, “Okay, if you don’t believe him, let’s go old school and use an actual map. The little triangles indicate campgrounds. I’ll navigate.” He flashed the map so that the others could see the triangles but turned it around quick enough that they couldn’t make out where the triangles were, and that the symbol really meant off-road trails. Scott took his cue and went back to the van, hopped in and started the engine. Ron took the front passenger seat. Everyone else climbed in the back and took a seat. Scott looked worried and Ron winked at him.

“Here it is. There’s another one down the road a few miles. It’s settled. On to the next campground!”

No one said a word because none of them had a better idea. Scott slowly backed up to a spot big enough so that he could turn around. Ron hoped that this would end up being one of those situations that you looked back on and laughed. He had a dreaded feeling that it would not.

Scott steered onto the pavement and continued down the road. He kept his eyes peeled for another intersection or sign leading to a campground. The tension was mounting inside the van, so thick you could cut it with a knife. With each passing mile, the pressure increased. Scott thought that at any moment, one of them would start asking why they hadn’t spotted a campground. Many miles passed, and he was afraid he would be exposed when a junction came into view. It seemed to rise up from the road out of nowhere, appearing hazy at first like when the sun plays tricks on a sweltering summer day and creates mirages on the scorching road that look like puddles of water. As they neared it, the haziness went away along with the tension. It still had a fuzzy haze around it, barely noticeable, but it was there.

“This is it!” Scott announced as though he had planned it and turned off the highway onto the unknown road. After he turned, Scott remained focused on the road ahead. He didn’t notice that the turnoff once again became hazy and then disappeared. The intersection was gone, and only wild brush and plants covered the spot where the turnoff had been, as though it had melted into the ground.

The road began to narrow to one lane that was leading deep into the woods to a place that had been quiet and empty for a long time. All these jagged mountain trails looked the same to Scott, and he was feeling disoriented but kept on driving. The road twisted around through the woods, which blocked out long distance sight. They came upon a small decrepit wooden sign. It was barely hanging onto the post with one desperate hinge that refused to give way. The wood of the sign was scarred and weather beaten, parts of it had eroded away. It bore the name “Habercroft Sanctuary” in old English style script. Underneath the name was inscribed, “Cultivation for the body.” The words were barely legible; the elements of time had taken their toll.

“Here we are!” Scott exclaimed, elated at the discovery which cloaked his lie. The “doubting Thomas’s” were all amazed.

Scott drove over to a building that was on the brink of collapsing and parked. Some of the windows had panes that were cracked in several places, while others were just gaping holes. Only shards of glass remained intact in the frame testifying that there had once been a complete window there. Several of the siding boards had holes that have glimpses of the inside. It appeared as if a mild breeze would demolish the structure. “I must be in the office,” Scott thought. Aloud he said, “I’ll go check in. You guys can stretch your legs for a few minutes.”

“Are you crazy?” John yelled. “You’re going to check us into a campground that’s right out of ‘Don’t go in the Woods’ or ‘Night of the Living Dead?’ No way.”

Bob stepped up close to John, so close that John could feel Bob’s breath on the back of his neck. “You’re not scared, are you?” Bob taunted.

In a shaky voice, John stammered, “No!” A malicious grin spread across Bob’s face. Being a jerk was natural talent for Bob. The others got out of the van and began to survey the surroundings. Ron put his arm around John’s neck. “Don’t listen to the asshole. We’re okay.” Ron smiled reassuringly at John, which relieved some of John’s anxiety but not all of it.

Scott walked up to the building and noted there were two shiny new padlocks on a glass door that was only frame, no glass in it. “Who would like this piece of shit? Anyone could just walk in,” Scott thought. Looking back at the others, everything else looked all right. The trees were green, the sky blue, and the birds chirped. These reassuring things relaxed the group.

Scott knocked on the metal doorframe and then sheepishly thought, “Why the hell am I knocking?” He stepped in through the gaping hole in the door, where the glass should be, and was inside. Looking around, it felt as though he had stepped back in time. Before him was a counter with a bell on it to ring for service. Next to that was a dust-covered book, which he assumed was a guest register. Rusted metal advertisement signs were on the wall directly behind the counter promoting soft drinks, gasoline, and snacks. Then Scott heard a rustling noise from behind him. He turned around and saw a man standing just inside the doorway. He was approximately the same height and build as Scott but was at least twenty-five pounds heavier. The man had very soft features that could almost be considered feminine, and when he smiled, it looked like he had one hundred oversized teeth. The man extended his hand and smiled. “Welcome! Welcome! I’m Valencio Taylor, owner and operator. Call me Val, everyone does.”

Scott shook his hand firmly and returned the smile.

“Do you have a spot with water and electric hookups for a full service trailer?” Scott felt foolish asking, considering the state of the place. But no sense in being a jerk. Both men looked around, and then Val chuckled leading Scott to grin.

“Everything is available! Just inherited the place, and I’m fixing it up to be the best resort in the Rockies.”

Scott grinned wider and tried to stifle a laugh. “This man—whose hands had no calluses, had a manicure, and rather squishy around the middle—didn’t stand a chance,” Scott thought while picturing this guy as an attorney because he had that sharp useless look about him. The toughest thing this guy ever had to face was probably when his laptop wouldn’t connect to the internet. He was a far cry from the burly lumberjack type you would expect to find up here restoring and running a campground. Still, something about him and what he was saying didn’t seem right. It felt fake. Scott shrugged it off and thought, “To each his own.” Scott should have listened to his intuition.

“Come over here, and I’ll check you in.” Val extended his arm in a sweeping motion for Scott to walk over to the desk. Val brushed the dust off the guest register. He opened it, and the pages disintegrated into tiny pieces. He grinned sheepishly. “How about if I get your cell number and just add it to my phone? Do you mind paying cash? I don’t always have reception to use PayPal or a square for credit cards.

“Not a problem,” Scott replied. “My number is 555-720-5699.”

“It’s five dollars per night per person, children under ten are free. How many in your party and how long do you plan to stay?”

Scott was so amazed that it was only $5.00 per person, that he was silent for a moment. “Oh, um, there are five of us, all over ten. We would like to stay for five nights.”

“Okay, that’ll be $ 125.00.”

Scott withdrew the money from his pocket and handed it to Val.

“Try to stay close to the bath house. That’s where the toilets and showers are. I’ve only had a chance to hook up one generator so the spaces near there will have active electrical hookups.”

“Thanks. Good luck with the renovations.” Scott smiled and turned to leave.

“Thanks.” The smile faded from Val’s lips the minute Scott’s back was turned. His eyes narrowed as he watched Scott leave the office. Scott called to everyone to get back in the van. Val continued to watch them until the van turned at the corner of the structure and was out of sight.

Val thought, “This isn’t what I had planned. But it’s workable.”

Scott drove around looking for just the right space. Then he spotted it. There was a large tree on each side of it, and they would provide shade for the trailer keeping it cool during the day.

“Everybody out so I can park.” They all got out and walked about twenty feet from the spot. Scott was able to pull straight in. The spot was like a long-curved driveway so when they were ready to leave, he could simply drive out, no backing up necessary. After Scott had turned off the van engine, Ron walked to the back and disengaged the trailer hitch. Once out of the van, Scott motioned for Michael to come to him.

“See all these small twigs and branches lying around? You and Noah gather them into a pile so that we can have kindling for the campfire tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael replied and bounded off to get Noah.

John went into the trailer to open the windows and doors, allowing it to air out. The sun beating on it all day had transformed it into an oven. Then after a while, he would close them and turn on the air conditioner.

Bob was true to form. He walked around watching everyone work and was scratching everything from his groin to his nose. Ron looked over at him ruefully and muttered, “If he took a bath, he wouldn’t have to scratch.”

Scott opened the storage compartment on the side and removed the folding lawn chairs setting each one up as he removed it. In no time at all, the camp was ready. That’s the great thing about trailers, park and you’re ready.

“Dad, when do we fish?” Michael asked.

“Not until after I see that pile of kindling.”

Michael pointed to the firepit. A large pile of twigs and branches rested next to it. Scott smiled.

“Leave him alone,” Bob grumbled. “Come on, Michael, I’ll take you boys fishing. Look over there,” Bob said pointing south. “That’s the lake. Let’s go!”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Scott asked.

“What?” Bob snapped.

“The fishing gear. You’re such a dolt!”

“Oh yeah, the fishing gear. Grab it, Michael.”

Michael and Noah had gathered their stuff, and Bob looked at his broken fishing pole.

“I’ll coach,” he said. “Be ready for a fish dinner!”

Even though he was a jerk, he was good with Michael. “Yeah, yeah,” Scott mumbled as he plopped down into a chair. He felt exhausted. Ron sat down next to him.

Scott suddenly sat up and yelled to Bob, “No shooting the fish!” Once again, he dropped into the lawn chair.

“Getting to be an old man?” Ron teased.

“Hey! I just did hours of driving so back off.”

Grinning, Ron handed him a beer. “I think you could use one of these.”

Scott smiled and took a long drink followed by, “Ahhhhhhhh.”

John poked his head out of the trailer. “I’m going to fix something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Sounds great,” Scott and Ron said in unison.

They sat there together soaking in the sounds and sights of nature. The boys were safe, dinner was underway, and he was able to relax. He had no idea that it would all come to an end very soon.