Devil's Throat (The River Book 6) (2 page)

Steven stopped reading. “That hadn’t even occurred to me,” he
said.

“You got some friends in government?” Roy asked.

“No, I don’t think I need that,” Steven said. He stuffed the
brochure into his pocket. “Come on, we need to get back to my house. I need to
get to my computer.”

“What for?” Roy asked.

“I think I can track his phone,” Steven said. “He’s on my
cell account.”

◊

At Steven’s house, Roy watched over Steven’s shoulder as he
accessed a website for his carrier. “Jason’s been on my account for years,”
Steven said. “It’s cheaper for him. He pays me part of his bill every few
months. I remember seeing something about tracking children’s cell phones that
are on your account. I’ve never used it, but it might be the answer.”

“That’s how they track you,” Roy said, “the government. They
want to track all of us, to know where we are all the time.”

“Why would the government care where you and I go?” Steven
said. “They have enough on their plate just trying to figure out where the bad
guys go.”

“You don’t get it,” Roy said. “To them, we’re all the bad
guys.”

Steven knew it was pointless to continue this conversation
with Roy. As a child, he’d spent many years learning how to press Roy’s
buttons, but lately he’d been learning how
not
to start something with
him unnecessarily. The best thing, he found, was to just change the subject.

“Here it is,” Steven said. “Find My Phone!” Steven clicked a
few more times, and a map appeared, showing a trail from Seattle down to
southern Nevada.

“Look,” Steven said, pointing to the map on the screen. Roy bent
over to examine the map.

“By Vegas?” Roy asked.

“Northeast of Vegas,” Steven said. “Overton.”

“We’d best get moving,” Roy said. “Pack up and we’ll swing by
my place on the way out.”

The sun set as they crossed from Washington into Oregon.
“Let’s stop in Pendleton for some coffee,” Roy said. “I’m going to need
something to keep me awake.”

“I want to check in with Jennifer, see if she’s heard
anything,” Steven said. He removed his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed
while driving. In a moment Jennifer came on the line and they talked back and
forth for a few minutes. A couple of times Steven sighed patiently while
Jennifer talked.

“Nothing,” Steven said, replacing the phone in his pocket.
“She hasn’t heard from him at all. Overton’s big enough to have cell reception.
Something’s wrong.”

“Michael’s likely separated him from his phone by now,” Roy
said. “I hope we’ll find Jason when we find his phone, but it’s unlikely.”

“Let’s try for a little more optimism, shall we?” Steven
said.

“I’m just sayin’,” Roy said. “No sense in lying about
things.”

Steven focused on driving and ignoring Roy. He loved his
father, but there were times when Roy’s perspective on things didn’t help
Steven’s mood. This was one of those times.

Steven’s relationship with Roy had changed dramatically in
the past year. When Steven’s home became haunted last year, it was Roy who
helped him solve the problem, and in the process, showed Steven how to use
latent abilities he wasn’t even aware of. They both could enter the River at
will – an invisible, moving flow of information, always available to those with
“the gift.” Once in the River, they could see things not normally visible to
most people, things like ghosts and other creatures and objects usually kept
hidden from mankind. When Roy’s father was alive, he too had the gift, and
taught Roy how to use it. Roy’s grandfather and great-grandfather were all
practitioners of the gift – and recorded their experiences in a book that was
passed from generation to generation. Roy was the current keeper of the book,
but it would pass to Steven at some point.

Steven’s mother seemed to sense her children might be heirs
to her husband’s gift, and she wasn’t a fan of Roy’s abilities. She kept Steven
and his brother, Bernard, wrapped up in church schooling and activities all
through their youth, and Steven’s relationship with his father during those
years was strained. After he left home, Steven became a rational skeptic and
would have found the idea of “the gift” ludicrous. It was only when his own
home became a source of nightmarish hauntings that Roy stepped in and helped
him discover his own abilities. In the process, Steven developed a new
relationship with his father.

But it wasn’t all wine and roses. Roy was crass and opinionated.
Steven knew there was still a lot he needed to learn from Roy, and normally he
would question him to his liking, but there were many times when Steven found
biting his tongue to be the best way to handle Roy. Arguing with him on certain
points, like politics, would only end in disaster. As long as the conversation
stayed on topics like the River and their immediate goals, they seemed to get
along fine – better than they had in years.

“Ten miles to Pendleton,” Roy said. “I can smell the coffee
from here!”

And then there was the funny and charming side of Roy.
When
he wanted to, he could be very charismatic, far more charismatic than me
,
Steven thought.
He can flip from one extreme to another at the drop of a
hat. Not sure if that’s part of the charm, or my cross to bear.

After stopping in Pendleton, they switched driving, with Roy taking
the wheel. The route through Deadman Pass with I-84 snaking through the Oregon
mountains called for slower speeds than the normal interstate, and Steven had
to keep an eye on Roy’s speed, which tended to creep up without Roy noticing.
There were one or two sudden bends in the road where Steven felt that Roy was driving
way too fast, and he was afraid he might flip the car. After another hour they
came to a calmer, straighter stretch of the interstate, and Steven felt the
adrenaline slowly leave his body. Steven never could sleep in the car, so he
was surprised when Roy woke him up hours later.

“We gotta decide,” Roy said. “Turn onto Highway 93 here and
go straight south down through Nevada, or keep on the interstate and go down
through Utah.”

“Which will be faster?” Steven said, rubbing the sleep from
his eyes and stretching.

“Probably the interstate,” Roy said. “But it means going
through Utah,” he added, grumbling.

“You say ‘Utah’ like it’s walking on coals,” Steven asked.
“You don’t like Utah?”

“No, I do not,” Roy said.

“What is it?” Steven asked. “Too many mountain passes? You
don’t like the scenery?”

“The scenery’s beautiful,” Roy said. “It’s the people.”

“Oh, the Mormons?”

“It’s not them so much as everybody’s so goddamn nice all the
time,” Roy said, scowling. “Really bugs me.”

“You’re the only person I know who has an aversion to nice
people,” Steven said. “If the interstate is faster, I say we take it, and we’ll
just have to find a way to deal with all the troublesome friendliness.”

“Humrf!” Roy growled, and pressed down the accelerator. “Your
turn to drive when we hit Burley.”

“Can’t believe I slept,” Steven said. “I normally don’t.”

“You were sawing logs like a sailor!” Roy said. “Wished I
could have recorded it. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“If you think you’re a silent sleeper, guess again,” Steven
said. “Sharing a room with you is like sleeping with a broken washing machine.”

They switched in Burley where Steven took over. Roy was out
almost as soon as he hit the passenger seat, and Steven was left to his own
thoughts as he drove through the barren wasteland of southern Idaho and
northern Utah.  Things picked up as he approached Salt Lake City, and soon he
found himself driving in six lanes of traffic, virtually empty in the dead of
night. He drove until he reached St. George, when the sun started to come up.
He pulled the car off the freeway and into a fast food drive thru for a quick
bite. Roy woke up.

“We’re only an hour away now,” Steven said.

“Good,” Roy said.

“You’ll be glad to know you slept through almost all of
Utah.”

“Good,” Roy said again. “That worked out nicely.”

◊

An hour later, Steven drove the car slowly down the main drag
of Overton. It was a small town, thriving on the business generated by tourists
to Lake Mead. Roy had the map on Steven’s phone, and was giving Steven
directions.

“That’s got to be it,” he said, pointing to an old and
outdated motel on the left. It was a two-story row of cheap rooms. The harsh
sun of southern Nevada had baked and peeled much of a recent paint job, and
there were weeds growing between cracks in the pavement.

Steven pulled his car next to the office and went inside to
talk with the motel clerk while Roy waited in the car. Soon Steven returned,
and drove the car over to one of the rooms.

“At first she wouldn’t tell me which room he was in,” Steven
said. “But when I gave her ten bucks, she opened right up. He’s in number 17.
Upstairs.”

They walked to a stairwell that was made of concrete. Pieces
of the cement were breaking off. “Watch your step,” Steven said to Roy. “I’m
surprised this place isn’t condemned.”

They reached the door to room 17 and Steven knocked. They
waited and he knocked again. No answer.

Steven began to yell through the door. “Jason! Jason, it’s
your dad. Open up.”

He banged again on the door. Still no response.

“Must be out,” Roy said.

The door to room 18 opened and a man stepped out, pulling the
door closed behind him. He turned to look at Roy and Steven. It was Michael.

Roy bolted towards him. Michael raised his hands and stepped
back. “Whoa!” he said. “Back off!”

“Where’s Jason?” Steven said. “Tell me!”

“He’s here,” Michael said. “Inside.”

“Do you have a key to his room?” Steven asked.

“No,” Michael said, “but we have adjoining rooms.”

“Take us to him,” Roy said. “And don’t argue, or we’ll throw
you off this railing.”

Michael smiled and opened his door with a key. Inside was a
small, dingy room with two twin beds. Michael’s bags were open on one of the
beds, and the other looked slept in. The door to the adjoining room was open.

Steven and Roy walked into the adjoining room. Jason was
lying on a bed.

“Jason!” Steven called. “Jason! Wake up!”

Roy stepped over to Jason and sat down next to him. He shook
him gently. Jason didn’t stir.

“What have you done to him?” Steven asked, turning to
Michael.

“Well, I taught him how to enter the River,” Michael said.
“And how to trance.”

“Why is he unresponsive?” Steven demanded. Jason’s state
reminded him of how Jonathan looked at the Unser estate after he’d had his soul
removed.

“I expect he’s gone somewhere,” Michael said.

“Where?” Steven asked.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you,” Michael said.

Steven walked over to Jason and slid his arms under his chest
and legs, lifting him from the bed.

“Come on, Dad,” Steven said. “We’re going!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Michael said. “You might kill him.”

Steven turned to Roy. “Is he right?”

“Maybe,” Roy said. “Depends on what’s going on with him. We
don’t know.”

Steven replaced Jason in the bed and turned back to Michael.
“You’re going to tell me where he’s gone, and what’s happening to him, you
sonofabitch.”

“No, I don’t think I am,” Michael said, a smug look on his
face. “I don’t like your tone.”

“I’ll call the cops,” Steven said. “What will they think with
my son lying comatose in your adjoining room?”

“They’ll probably think he’s on drugs,” Michael said. “And
haul him out of here, which I guarantee you, you do not want to do.”

Steven stared at Michael. Michael stared back. “Your move,
gentlemen,” Michael said, moving to sit in a chair.

“Why did you bring him down here?” Steven asked.

“That’s your move?” Michael asked, and smiled.

“Tell us, or we’ll beat it out of you!” Steven said.

“I think we all know that’s not going to happen,” Michael
said. “I’m sure you remember how successful you were with your little pop gun
in my house.”

Steven remembered; Michael had caused Roy’s gun to misfire without
touching it.

“And I’m sure you remember how we finished off Lukas,” Roy
said. “So don’t be so cocky, asshole.”

“Oh, I do remember that,” Michael said. “I can’t forget it. I
spent a good year mourning his loss. All that work down the drain. I had resigned
myself to starting over with someone new, when who should show up next door?
Jason Hall, son of the prick who killed Lukas. I was reinvigorated. Purpose
came back into my life.”

“Why can’t we move him?” Steven asked.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you that either,” Michael said, “but
Roy’s right, you could kill him. Boy, would I have loved to see your face when
you got that voicemail message and you realized it was me who had stolen your
son! That must have been agony for you!”

Steven began to steam. Roy could see he was beginning to turn
red. “You goddamn sonofabitch!” Steven said, charging Michael. He grabbed his shirt
and pulled him out of the chair, then pushed him back into the wall of the
motel room. The picture hanging on the wall behind Michael swung and fell to
the floor.

Roy grabbed Steven, attempting to pull him off Michael. “It’s
not worth it!” Roy said. “I don’t blame you, but he’s got the upper hand at the
moment.”

Steven dropped Michael, who settled back onto the floor.
Michael straightened his shirt. “You’ve got a great way of handling things,” he
said, running his fingers through his hair. “So sophisticated. The opposite of
mature. Works well for you, I can tell.”

“What do you want?” Steven said. “Tell me what you want to
let him go.”

Michael’s face contorted in anger and he stepped forward
towards Steven. “I want your son to be the opposite of everything you are. I
want him to plague you the rest of your life. I want him to hate you, to
despise your name every time he hears it. I want him to spend his life trying
to reverse everything you’ve ever done. That’s for starters.”

Steven swung at Michael and connected. Michael’s head flew to
the right and blood flew out of his mouth, hitting the wall. His body followed
his head, and he spun around, facing away from Steven. Roy stepped up again to
stop him, but Steven’s second punch had already landed and Michael went down.
Steven held his fist with his left hand; the swings had obviously hurt.

“He’s out,” Roy said. “Wow, you really clocked him, just like
Jonathan! This is getting to be a thing with you!”