Silas: A Supernatural Thriller (38 page)

Silas walked ahead of me, his pace brisk. I kept up with him easily. Ben had given me what was left of his magic pain medicine before we left the complex-in-the-mountain, and I discovered it had other effects besides simply curing me of ache. For the first time in over a year my heart didn’t hurt when it beat. Energy coursed through me, as if I’d been injected with copious amounts of caffeine. I bounced on my toes while I walked, feeling like I could run a marathon if I so chose.

When the sun disappeared, the giant disk of a moon was already high in the sky. Silas began to falter, teetering in pain. I knew what came next. I stopped him, scooted to the ground, and held him close to my chest as the change came over him again. His weight shifted and his groans of pain melded with the insects to create sorrowful music. I felt his pulse slow as the hair fell from his neck and face. His features contorted and when I saw him, bathed in the blue light of the moon, with a visage that was just as much dog as boy, I kissed him on the forehead.
It doesn’t matter what you appear to be
, that kiss said.

In no time his cries of animal torment became confused human whimpers. He burrowed into me and wrapped his little boy arms around my neck. Then he did something stupendous. He leaned in and planted his rosebud lips against my cheek. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing as he did so. A part of me knew this would be the last time I’d see him this way, and it meant everything for him to bless me with that very human display of adoration. Even with the frightening things I’d seen over the last few days, I didn’t want this particular chapter to end.

We sat there for a little while as father and son, he cooing like an infant while I stroked his hair. A cold breeze blew past us, causing me to shiver. I removed the blanket from my rucksack and wrapped it around Silas. The bright evening then became even brighter as a plume of yellow light illuminated the canopy above. I heard a sudden
swoosh
and the breeze kicked up. I knew exactly what that meant.

The cleansing program had done its job. I took it as a sign to get moving, just in case. I threw the rucksack over my shoulder.

Side by side, my boy and I marched onward.

58

I find it funny how perspective works, especially when you’re traveling. On the way to your destination the trip seems to take forever. Time slows to a crawl as your anticipation grows, making each moment stretch out. Seconds seem like minutes. Minutes seem like hours. The thrill of
arrival
forms an impatient lump in your throat.

Then, when the journey’s done and you head for home, time
speeds up.
Before you blink, landmarks have passed you by. It’s as if the universe is getting even with you for your prior impatience, trying to balance the scales.

The voyage out of the Wasteland was just like this.

Silas, my human compass, led me by the hand. We traversed hills and valleys, maneuvered around trees and avoided the jungle’s concealed places where unknown creatures might lurk. We did our best to tread lightly, moving our feet with wary speed, trying not to rustle the leaves under foot too much. Besides the insects, the forest was quiet.

My heart raced as Silas tugged me past the grown-over remains of houses we’d discovered the night before. I cocked my ear and listened for any sign of Big Guy and his platoon of mutated freaks. I heard nothing but the blood rushing through my head and hoped the bastards were somewhere in the dilapidated abodes, tucked into their beds for the night.

Still we weaved, climbing a sharp incline. At its crest we discovered a small clearing. I sat down on a stump, reached into the pack, took out a bottle of water, and shared it with Silas. I didn’t have to pour it out for him this time; instead, he grasped it in his unsteady hands and took a tentative pull from the bottle. He caught on quick, it seemed. Even his hunched gait had straightened, allowing the blanket wrapped around him to skim above the ground rather than hang perilously close to his small feet and form a tripping hazard. I guessed that if he had a few more days of practice, he’d act just like any other human child. Again, that pang of sadness cramped my chest.

I didn’t know exactly how long we’d been traveling, but it had to have been hours. Before too long I spotted the peak of the Crystal Mountain, its dew-covered outline shimmering in the bright blue moonlight. We’d be upon it in no time. The end of our quest was almost at hand. I stood up, shrugged the pack over my shoulders again, rustled Silas’s hair, and kept moving.

We walked until we reached a thick copse of trees, looming ahead of us like petrified guardians. I went to walk through the thick foliage that surrounded them, but Silas jerked my hand, stopping me mid-stride. He pointed up. I followed his finger.

Above us, woven through the trees, were hundreds of glistening, cylindrical forms. One hung down, hovering ten feet above my head. I saw the telltale, petal-like flaps and teardrop head. I stepped back, still staring, and spotted yet another dangling cranium, then another and another. We’d stumbled upon a nest of those sinister vine-snakes. I held my breath as I retreated, trying not to make a sound. The creatures didn’t react – they just hung there, swaying. In a panic I looked down at Silas, whose expression, with eyes wide and mouth hanging open, displayed how in awe he was. He displayed no fear, and this eased my mind a little. I allowed him to guide me around the coppice and up the next rise like a tiny Sherpa.

By the time we exited the jungle, I saw the first streaks of daylight creep over the horizon. The yellow and red beams combined with the blue from the moon, turning the mountain into a tower of glistening color. For the first time it didn’t seem so ominous. I felt a twinge of hope as we neared it, but that hope nearly abandoned me when I heard the crackle of movement from behind us. I whirled around but saw nothing. Passing it off as my mind playing tricks on me, I kept moving forward.

Loose volcanic rock replaced the dirt and leaves of the forest. I picked up Silas so their craggy shards wouldn’t impale his sensitive little-boy feet and traversed up the rise. He was heavy, and I wished he’d lost some of his mass when he made the transformation from dog to boy. Once at the top I pressed my back to the base of the mountain and skirted the edge of the giant crater. It was much easier this time than the first, even with Silas’s weight on my back.

Finally we reached the other side. The vast expanse of the
Deadlands
stretched out before us, a world of ash and buried remnants of a long-lost world. I smiled despite its hopeless appearance.

“We’re almost there, kiddo,” I said. Silas sighed in approval, his arms draped around my neck.

59

A freezing wind greeted us when we descended the hill and entered the desert terrain. I put Silas down and he stepped confidently over the cracked earth. I allowed him to walk ahead of me and smiled as I watched his stout legs appear and disappear from beneath the blanket. The light of day continued to emerge before us, swallowing the evening’s cobalt radiance.

I heard a noise from behind me again – the sound of falling rocks. I paused and gradually swiveled my head. Though the Crystal Mountain glimmered, the area around it was still bathed in a strange blackness, as if the peak’s surface consumed all light. I squinted, but could see nothing. So I swiveled on my heels and continued following my boy, who hadn’t stopped.

“
Yo
!” a strange voice called out, echoing all around me.

Once more I stopped and faced the mountain. This time Silas joined me. A shape emerged from the blackness – a large being covered with hair. It approached with a hop in its step, waving.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Who are you?” I yelled, but received no reply. The approaching stranger picked up speed, moving at a brisk jog now. There was something threatening about the swing of its arms. I glanced to my left and saw the buried remains of the VW van we’d passed on our way out here. I swore there were forms moving around in there, though there wasn’t enough light to tell for sure. I backed up a step.

“Silas, I don’t like this,” I murmured.

Still the stranger advanced. I thought about turning tail and running. I grabbed Silas’s hand and tried to yank him backward, but he wouldn’t budge. He just stood there, transfixed on the stranger. I remembered him acting like that whenever we’d met up with a certain murdering wolf-man, and then it hit me.

It was Nick Goodman.

The closer he came, the more obvious it became. I saw the mutton chops, which appeared longer than they’d been when I first met him back home. His eyes twinkled as the new day’s light streamed into them. His body was huge – much larger than I remembered – and though he still had a sizeable paunch he no longer seemed chubby. His muscles rippled like that of a bodybuilder. Black hair covered him, even creeping up his neck, making him look more like a bear than a human.

And hanging there around his neck, fastened by a rope, was the disk.

Nick slowed down. His forehead furrowed and he came to a stop, ten feet away.

“What’re you doing, Nicely?” he asked. On this side, his voice wasn’t nasal but a full, deep baritone.

I shrugged, trying not to show how scared I was. “Taking a walk. You?”

Goodman’s eyes looked me over. “Nice clothes. They look ancient. Where’d you get them?”

“At the Outskirts surplus store,” I replied, letting a bit of sarcasm enter my tone. “They might not look like much, but they’re comfortable.” I paused, and then said, “How long have you been following me, Nick?”

“Since I left you on the cliff,” he replied. The way he talked was strange – hesitant, as if he had to remember the words before he said them. “I crossed the lake right after you, on Paul’s –
your
– old skiff.”

“So you saw what went on back there?” I asked, pointing in the direction of the jungle beyond the Crystal Mountain.

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I don’t go in there. Too many things don’t like me kind. I waited at cave in bottom of mountain.”

His eyes squinted to beads and he coughed. His speech patterns faltered, as if he was devolving before my eyes. Sensing an opportunity, I took a step forward.

“Nick,” I said, “why did you bring me here?”

He knelt down and clutched his chest, panting. “Had to…wanted to…see you again…make you understand…”

“Understand what?”

“Understand that…the mission…your honor…important.”

I shook my head. “I’m not Paul, Nick. I
have
no mission. I just want to go home.”

“No…not true…Paul you is…Paul you always been…”

“Nope. Paul’s gone, Nick. He’s dead. You
killed him. He was the best friend you’ve ever had, and you murdered him.”

“No!”

“Yes. You brought him to that…thing…and let it stick a hunk of metal in his chest. It killed him, Nick. He died slowly, and by the time I pulled the thing out of him, it was too late. And it’s
all
your fault.
”

“Not true!” he bellowed. “You Paul…you Paul! Me…no kill!”

I inched perilously closer. Nick fell to his hands and knees, panting. He wasn’t looking at me. I quietly swung my pack in front of me and pulled out Kaiser’s knife. I reached forward with it and caught the rope under the blade.

“No!” Nick screamed, and shot up. The blade slashed across the back of his neck as he did so, drawing blood. His sudden show of aggression frightened me, as did the look of hate that shone beneath a brow that extended and contracted with each breath he took.

“No
takey
,” he muttered, choking on his tongue. “You no Paul…you…me…no…friend…”

“Silas,” I whispered as I backed up. I reached down to grab him, only to find that he’d collapsed on the dusty ground as well, flailing about in the blanket that had been over his shoulders. His body distorted, elongating and retracting, just like Nick’s. The tiny hairs covering him became thick, grew longer. He was changing back with the rising sun. They
both
were.