Читать книгу Hanky and the Thousandsleeper - Marvin Roth - Страница 16

That same morning, Ray Bergson woke up drenched in sweat. Hanky’s grandfather looked around his bedroom, totally confused. Everything was in its proper place, just like always. Nonetheless, something was amiss today. Images from a nightmare - he’d had one after a long period of dreamless nights - appeared like fragments before his inner eye only to vanish right away.

In his nightmare, he had seen Hanky and frightful things. He sensed that danger was imminent, for his grandson and other people. And there was something else weighing heavy on his mind. Suddenly, memories of his deceased brother-in-law came up. He had visions of the very same images he had seen back then. It was if it had only just happened and not so many years ago. He saw his brother-in-law lying in a pool of blood, his throat slit wide open and the mountain lion covering his body. He also heard all the noises he’d noticed back then. The deep-throated gnarls of the beast and the blubbering of the blood spewing from the dead man’s throat.

Next, a picture appeared in his spiritual eye - and it once again made the hair stand up on his back. He saw the incredibly malicious eyes of the beast. He saw himself pull his rifle off his shoulder in a split second and shoot without any hesitation.

The images began to dissolve and Ray noticed that his entire body was shaking. For all of these years he had pushed this incident into the dark corners of his mind. He actually had expunged it. Well... maybe not entirely. In fact, what he had buried the horrible experience deep inside himself and had built a tall protective wall around the grave. Something had broken down the wall. Why? He mulled it over for a long time and tried to recall the vanishing images that had appeared to him in the nightmare.

He got up, dragged himself into the kitchen and began to make coffee. Next, he went into the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. He glared into the mirror, contemplating his face marked by the wrinkles of a long life. Yet he was able to see beyond his own mirror image and spot the face of his grandson. Hanky was not laughing for a change. He looked extremely serious - like an adult.

Once the truck had traveled for about two and a half hours, Hanky became a little restless back in the cargo room. He sensed that something had happened nearby. He’d had this same feeling just shortly after the departure of the truck, when it passed the location where Mike Clark, the owner of the transportation company, had been murdered.

Nevertheless, this was somehow different. Hanky knew that he was needed here and moreover, that this was a place where he could find help. He leaned out of the tail end of the truck and when it began to slow down on an incline, he made a bold leap. As he jumped, he almost lost his balance and despite swinging his arms he landed on the road hard, skinning his knees. Fully conscious he quickly limped over to the close by ditch and allowed his body to tumble into the high grass.

The truck rattled on and soon disappeared over the horizon. The young man sat up straight and wondered what he was doing in this place. After a while, Hanky got up, rubbing his aching knee caps. He marched off slowly, looking around as if searching for something. Shortly thereafter he discovered some grass by the side of the road that had obviously been trampled down. The tracks revealed that a car had to have come through here. In a wondrous way, Hanky knew immediately that these tracks were of no relevance for his mission. As a result, he completely missed Walt Kessler’s car still sitting in front of the tree further down the incline.

He continued on, trusting his intuition, which would definitely tell him whenever he came across something he was subconsciously looking for. Then he suddenly remembered his grandpa. He’d probably be awfully worried about him by now, especially once he learned that Hanky had disappeared. He walked a few more steps and suddenly came to an abrupt stop. A leg was sticking up out of the grass in the ditch.

Walt Kessler noticed that something was shaking him violently. His mind had trouble coming out of the soothing unconsciousness, but it slowly came to life. Annoyed, he realized that the tugging and shaking would not stop. Now he also heard a voice calling something out to him. Initially, he could not comprehend the words. Yet the voice persisted. Walt’s mental capabilities returned by and by and he begin to emerge, like a diver who had been deep under the ocean. After a while - second, minutes maybe - Walt had no concept of time - he understood the words. The voice kept on yelling:

“Mister Kessler - waaake uuup - Hellooooooooo Mister Kessler - can you hear men? Mister Kessler -please open your eyes - Helloooooo Mister Kessler.....”

Walt knew the voice... he knew he’d heard it before. Who was calling out his name? He wished his eyes weren’t as heavy. The voice simply would not give up and he still felt the other man shaking his shoulders. With whatever force of will he could muster, Walt finally opened his eyes. At first everything looked fuzzy, but his vision soon cleared and he begins to recognize a face. Taken aback and confused he stared into Hanky’s round face.

Ray Bergson had set out for his son’s and daughter-in-law’s house. At first, his legs moved along stiffly, but they soon loosened up as he passed through the meadows in the direction of Prisco. It was still early and the cacophonic noises of human civilization were still barely audible at this hour. Instead, he heard the sounds of nature he was so very fond of. Hanky loved them, too. The low chirping of insects, the rustling of the wind through the bushes and grasses, the twittering birds at the edge of the forest. Ray’s plan was to first check whether Hanky was actually at home - maybe he had just had a crazy vision in a dream. But deep inside, Ray knew that Hanky would not be there.

Shortly thereafter he stepped into Hanky’s parents’ house, where everything was still whisper quiet. He sneaked in through the backdoor. He heard the sounds of people asleep from the bedroom. On tiptoes, Ray climbed the stairway and stood in front of Hanky’s door. He opened it and peered inside. No one was there. Hanky was gone. For an instant, Ray was clueless what to do and he thought hard. His eyes spotted the old cigar box at the end of the bed. It was Hanky’s treasure chest and now it stood wide open. Ray walked over to the bed, picked up the box and stared inside. Gone. All the money was gone. The other small treasures the boy had collected over time -glass marbles, a picture of a dog Hanky had once cut out of a magazine, a piece of strangely shaped wood Hanky had brought home from the forest - they were all spread out on the blanket. Yet the coins and bills Hanky had saved over the years, they were gone. It wasn’t much, and the boy had never needed any money and had no idea how to make a purchase. And now the money was gone. Something had to have happened to Hanky : a change. He was gone and he probably had taken the money with him. Where had he gone? Where was Hanky?