Forest of Shadows (28 page)

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Authors: Hunter Shea

Tags: #Fiction, #Horror

BOOK: Forest of Shadows
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The next day, her father vowed to take care of all of them and told Eve she had a choice of spending her day in bed or on the couch. She tried to resist but soon realized it was futile. 

Jessica loved having her father as part of the daily routine and helped him make all three meals and give Liam a bath. After lunch, he took the two of them out for a walk and they kicked a soccer ball around until it was time for Liam’s nap. The leaves were already starting to fall, except for all the evergreens, and Jessica shivered in her light jacket. She didn’t let on that she was cold, for fear of having to cut their time outside short. 

Two days later, as her father was making lunch, he got a call from Judas and she heard him agree to meet him the next day, which made her sad because it meant their “super together time”, as she called it, was coming to an end. 

They sat together in the afternoon to watch a kids’ movie, though her father and Eve spent more time reading their books than watching the movie. When the movie ended, there were still a couple of hours to kill until dinner and the sun was shining strong outside. 

“Can I go out for a little while?” she asked. 

“I don’t see why not,” her father said, engrossed in his book. “Just stay in the yard. No going into the woods.”

“I’d never go in the woods alone, Daddy. I just want to play with my Barbie dolls outside.”

“Make sure you remember to bring them back in. It’s supposed to rain tonight. You don’t want them to get ruined.”

“Okay.”

Jessica sprinted up the stairs, grabbed her Barbie backpack that was loaded with dolls, clothes and every accessory known to women, both real and plastic, slipped into her winter coat and continued her mad dash into the back yard, hopping down the patio stairs two at a time. A trio of large stones, one almost as tall as her, sat amidst the dying grass and leaves. It was her favorite place to play with her dolls because she could pretend they were rock climbing or living in a cave or stranded on an island. 

The chilly breeze made her grateful she remembered to wear her winter coat. She pulled a couple of Barbies out of the backpack, one with blonde hair, the other a brunette, stripped them down and dressed them up for the cold weather as well. Today they were about to embark on a journey up a snowy mountain in search of the elusive yeti. It would have made her father proud to see her so easily blend the interests of her youth with the eccentric passion of her dad. 

Her Barbies were in search of a sherpa at the base of the mountain (though she pronounced it
chirpa
) when she heard the heavy crunch of leaves coming from past the rocks, back by the tree line where the preponderance of evergreens shadowed the recesses in early night. She froze, fearing some large animal with rabies was approaching the house. She knew from Eve that most of the animals that lived in the forest around them were nocturnal, and if they were to come across one during the daytime, it was more than likely diseased or dying and she was not to go anywhere near it. 

She transferred both dolls to one hand and the open backpack to the other in case she had to make a run for the house. The snap of dry leaves and twigs moved closer. A vague shadow appeared between the massive tree trunks, edging closer until she could clearly see that this was no animal.

A man was coming her way. 

Sunlight touched the top of his head as he emerged from the forest and spilled down his entire body. He was dark skinned with salt and pepper hair cut close, dressed in a brown wool coat, khaki pants and hiking boots. He smiled when he saw her and there was something about the pure delight in his face that put her instantly at ease. 

“Hello neighbor,” he called, waving his arm. 

Slightly winded, he paused at the largest of the rock trio and leaned back against it. “I don’t go hiking as much as I should and when I do, I get tired easily.”

Jessica said nothing. He closed his eyes and nodded. 

“Looks like your parents taught you right. Never talk to strangers, especially men who come walking out of the bushes in the middle of nowhere. My name is George, I live nearby, or what passes for nearby up here.”

A dark cloud, pregnant with rain and the size of a battleship, passed overhead, blocking out the sun. For just a brief moment, the color and definition of the man who called himself George washed away, revealing an incongruous blob with soft edges barely retaining the shape of a full grown person. The next instant, he was back to George with the smiling face and brown wool jacket, reappearing like a stolen image between the flickering bursts of a strobe light. 

He gave her a knowing look and scooted back so he could sit on the rock. 

“You’re a very smart little girl. You can see right through me,” he chuckled. 

Jessica was no longer afraid. When she’d first thought it was a wild animal, then a strange man, she’d been understandably tense, because they were real flesh and blood things, creatures that, if in the worst state of mind, could bring harm to her. 

She now knew the man before her was a ghost, a trapped soul that, should she learn the truth of his captivity between planes, was probably more a figure of sadness than terror. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked, still clutching her dolls. 

“Does what hurt?” 

“Being that way. Or does it feel the same?”

“Oh. It feels pretty much the same, most times. I sure am glad you’re not afraid to talk to me now.”

“I’m not allowed to talk to people I don’t know. But, you’re not a person.”

George winked at her and nodded. 

Feeling more at ease with a situation that would send most adults running for their lives, Jessica put her dolls in the backpack and sat on the grass facing him. 

“My wife always wanted a little girl so she could share her Barbie doll collection with her. I would have liked one, too, so I could have a special daddy’s little girl, just like your father has. But we had two wonderful boys, so our house was filled with army men and toy trucks. Speaking of my boys, my youngest thinks the world of you.”

Jessica’s six-year-old mind struggled with this last bit of information. If George was a ghost, was his son one as well? Or was he alive, just like her? And either way, could he be the boy seen around their house?

“He’d love to play with you. I try to explain to him why he can’t but he’s young, so he has a hard time understanding.”

“Is he the boy that was at our window and in our house?” Jessica asked. 

George straightened his arm out chest high. “Is he about this tall?”

She nodded. 

“That would be Matthew, my oldest. He’s just curious, is all. No, Cory hasn’t quite gotten the knack for perfecting his, ah, appearance.”

“Are all of you energy?” Jessica asked, excited. 

“Energy?” George repeated.

“I mean ghosts. Me and my daddy call ghosts energy.”

He smiled wide and Jessica noticed that his teeth were translucent. It was like looking at a hand drawn picture of a man where the artist had forgotten to color in the outline of his subject’s grin. “I don’t know about energy, but I do know that if I saw me, I’d tell people I’d just seen a ghost.”

A low clap of thunder echoed from a great distance. Storms moved fast around here and even though she was captivated by the fact she was talking to an actual ghost, Jessica did not want to be stuck outside in the middle of a thunder and lightning storm. 

George looked up at the advancing storm clouds. 

“Looks like our time is limited. Before I go, I want you to pass a message on to your father.”

“Why don’t you come inside and tell him yourself?”

“I wish it was that easy,” George said, looking suddenly sad and lost.

For the first time since meeting this strange wraith in her yard, Jessica was frightened. 

“Tell him that this is a place of bad things, so bad that the energy is angry. It uses all of you, kind of like plugging something into an electrical outlet. If the snow comes, we’ll do what we can to help, but your father must not be afraid. It’s very important that he is not afraid. You understand?”

She nodded her head vigorously. 

“And tell Judas I’m sorry for making him fall.”

George winked, but there was a deep sorrow in his eyes. 

With a grunt, he pushed away from the stone and retreated back into the forest. As he came in contact with the first tree, he turned to smoke and was absorbed into the bark. 

Jessica stared at the tree for several minutes, waiting for him to reappear. This time, the thunder was closer and loud enough to make the ground rumble. She jumped, slipped an arm into the strap of her backpack and ran to the house like the devil was on her heels. 

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jack Casella sat in his cubicle lamenting every facet of his life. Break time was another half hour away but Jack was damned if he’d do any work until then. Clicking onto the internet, he accessed his home email account, hoping to catch a funny forwarded email from one of his friends. After deleting seven emails looking to sell him penis enlargement creams and overseas painkiller prescriptions, he saw a message from John. 

“Got any naked pics of Eskimo chicks?” he muttered as he opened the email. 

In the email, John told him about the house and the less than warm reception they’d been given by the locals. He wrote a couple of lines about their trip to the Denali State Park with a promise of many pictures to be shared when he returned. Most important was the small list of requests and instructions on where to find some of the books he wanted Jack to look over. 

Hitting the print icon, he wheeled his chair to his jacket hook and decided to call it a day. Sometimes, being the boss had its privileges. 

 

 

Thousands of miles away, John grabbed his notebook when he smelled burning rubber in the basement. After he checked to make sure nothing was on fire, the strange odor lifted. He took the stairs two at a time to see if it came from upstairs.

Nothing. 

At first he had been upset at how hard it was to do any background investigating outside the house. During his trips to town, he felt nothing but open disdain and he knew there was no sense asking questions. No help would be forthcoming. Because of that, he was forced to hole up in the house and hope he could somehow provide his own answers. The house, especially lately, was doing its best to keep him busy. 

He jumped at the sound of one loud knock on the door to the empty basement. 

He waited. “I’m listening. Knock again if you can hear me.” Fumbling in his pocket, he pulled out one of his recorders and stood motionless for several minutes. 

Tired of waiting, he headed back to the basement. As he walked past the door, there was another knock, this time louder and from the other side. John knocked back, then jotted the time and place in his notebook. 

All of his research had yielded dozens of cases that contained parts of what they were experiencing, but nothing that was all encompassing. Shadow people, full bodied apparitions complete with interaction, light anomalies, sounds, they were all there, recorded throughout time by people all over the world. But to have them all in one place? It was unheard of, and every new piece of evidence drove him harder to find the truth. 

 

 

Judas saw Sheriff High Bear’s truck skid to a halt outside his house just as he walked out the front door. Shit. 

His natural instinct was to run. He and High Bear had many memories of past chases, all of them with Judas on the losing end of the race. Sure he could run, but if he didn’t have a destination that was miles away from Shida, what was the sense?

“I know what you’re thinking Graves and I’d highly advise against it,” High Bear said as he jumped from his truck. He removed his sunglasses and walked up to him with one hand on the butt of his gun and the other on the handle of his baton. If Judas hadn’t already been through this play a dozen times before, he might have been afraid. 

“I was just thinking that you don’t come around to visit much anymore and how much I don’t miss it.”

Judas flashed his best screw-you grin and leaned against the porch railing. The sheriff always brought out the best in him. 

“That smile would look much better with a few missing teeth.” High Bear tensed, fighting the urge to whip out his nightstick. Instead, he poked Judas with his index and middle fingers and knocked him off balance. 

“How do you know the white guy?” he said through clenched teeth. 

“I guess you aren’t aware that all white people know each other. It’s like a big global club—”

The sheriff cut him off. “Shut up, asshole. Now I’ll ask you again. How do you know John Backman?”

“Who says I know him?”

“I saw you in the diner that day with him, or are you too stupid to remember. I know you’ve been up at his house and I want to know why. I checked and I know he’s not part of your family, real or adopted. In fact, there isn’t a soul in this country that would claim you as kin. I can’t see a man like Backman being friends with a dropout stoner, so it gets me wondering.”

Judas could feel the heat of his anger but there was something else in his eyes. 

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