The Dark Rift: Ascension (The Dark Rift Book Series 1) (2 page)

"Wonderful.Wonderful, Walt."

"To answer your question completely, I sent her on a vacation. Told her she needed a little time away. We're getting so close now. I didn't want her running into her mother in the hallway or anything, you know. Could get messy..."

"Where's she headed? I mean, is she going far enough away so that we don't need to worry about any surprises?"

"She told some of her people she was headed up north to her grandparent's old cabin."

Renfro looked disturbed. "That's awful close, don't you think? I mean, what if she decides to go on a nature hike or something?"

Walter McKinley took a heavy pull on the scotch and set the glass down on his desk. "Well then, we'd have to do something about it, wouldn't we? Don't worry, Ted. We've got people all over that part of the state. She won't know anything until it's too late."

Ted Renfro nodded and Walter poured them another round.

* * *

Jodie decided to take the long way up to the cabin, driving along the coastal highway. The roadway gave some drivers the thrill of a lifetime, with an infinite view over the California Coast. Other drivers, especially those from flatter Midwest states, were terrified by the shear drop to the ocean below and occasional missing sections of roadway eroded by recent storms. She downshifted the '68 Camaro into second gear, slowing as a Wisconsin license plate came into view. Most days, she would have found the snail's pace infuriating. Today, she put her arm out of the window and let the sun soak into her skin. She turned up the volume on her Muddy Waters CD. Blues seemed to fit her mood for the moment. Loud blues. Creeping along the highway gave her time to think about her family and her destination in the Redwoods.

When she was growing up, Jodie's parents worked for Gypsum Aeronautics, a defense contractor that supplied materials to NASA and the Department of Defense. Both her parents were successful aeronautical engineers. They were not so successful at being parents, though. When Jodie was little, they were gone for months at a time, working on product development and testing. Eventually, when Jodie was seven years old, they divorced and sent her to live with her father's parents in northern California.

After a few months at her grandparents' house, Jodie's life slowly began to change. She finally was starting to feel like she fit in and her friendships expanded in both number and depth. But then came high school, when the person she was becoming set her far apart from her friends. 

Jodie developed into a beautiful young woman, taller and more athletic than most girls her age. Her long blonde hair and striking bright green eyes made her popular with boys, too, but Jodie felt more interested in other things, like math and science. And other girls. Her life took an abrupt turn during her senior year, when Jodie shared her feelings with her best friend. The next day, it seemed the entire school knew about what she thought was shared in confidence. The rest of her senior year was a nightmare, fueled by the insecurities of young girls and boys who were just beginning to understand their own sexuality.

Shunned by her high school friends, the isolation she experienced during the last year of high school would have been overwhelming, if not for her grandparents and their unwavering support. She missed them so much. Both of them were gone over five years now, her grandmother taken by cancer and her grandfather by a heart attack in his sleep a few short months later. They'd left her the house in the redwoods to remember them by.

Since her grandfather died, Jodie's father began visiting
her periodically. She thought of him as a sad person who said little, but always seemed to have something milling through his mind. She thought that maybe he felt guilty for abandoning her. Her mother, on the other hand, stopped visiting on a regular basis about the time Jodie came out in high school. She was indignant over the fact that her mother could exert such disapproval, even from a vast physical and emotional distance. As she drove, she tried to remember the last time she saw her mother. Over five years ago now. Not long enough.

With each passing mile she drove, a little bit of Nelson was left behind. She did, however, need to do something about the pace of her travel. The Wisconsinites seemed to be moving even slower now, hugging the inside of the roadway, maps waving in front of the windshield. Jodie was relieved when she reached the turn-off. It would take her away from the coast, but would provide a more direct route to the cabin. She smiled as the Camaro sprang to life and the force of acceleration pushed her back into her seat. She was still hours from her destination. Muddy Waters made way for B.B. King on the stereo and she sang as she drove, banishing negative thoughts from her mind.

Driving north as the sun was setting, the trees grew taller, forming a high dense canopy over the roadway, enveloping the Camaro in darkness.
Jodie stopped at a convenience store for gas and supplies. Surprisingly, the store had an excellent selection of Napa Valley wines. Not knowing when she would get back to this area and remembering the lack of upscale stores around the cabin, she filled a case full of mixed dry reds and stowed them in the trunk. She could feel the weight of the past year lifting off her shoulders and smiled. Life was already improving.

The Camaro glided through miles of dark forest, its headlights illuminating the roadway all the way up to the bottom of the tree canopy. Jodie felt as if she was in a protective dome, embraced by the trees and memories of her grandparents. With each mile, she relaxed a bit more, now fighting the need for sleep. She kept driving, forcing herself to stay awake. Her body would have none of it though, with the need for rest long overdue.

She nodded off for a moment and jerked back awake, only to nod off again. Then, Jodie was awakened by a jarring jolt to the car. She was vaguely aware she hit something. Whatever it was changed the trajectory of the car and, as she awoke, she saw the Camaro headed directly for the massive trunk of a redwood tree, sparking a fleeting memory of her grandfather showing her the rings on a cut redwood stump. A ring of growth for each year of life. She wondered what year in the redwood's life her own would end on.

Fully conscious now, she cranked the wheel of the Camaro. The car slid sideways, screeching and groaning, spraying gravel and dust dozens of feet into the air, spinning and sliding until Jodie couldn't focus on the pavement anymore. The Camaro came to rest in the center of the road, stalled, the smell of melted rubber and dust permeating the air.

"Oh, my God. What was that?" Jodie said out loud.

She got out of the car, dizzy, and stumbled, grabbing at the Camaro hood to catch herself from hitting the asphalt. Looking down at her vehicle, Jodie noticed a dent in the front fender. What she saw next turned her stomach. The front bumper was coated in blood and hair. She definitely hit something. She looked closer and realized that it wasn't something, but someone. That was human hair stuck to her car.

Jodie scanned the roadway for sign of a body, hoping to find the person she hit, praying they would still be alive. Realizing she couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her on the dark roadway, she got back in the Camaro, shaken. She started the car and pulled over to the side of the road in case any traffic passed by. Parking facing the direction she came from, she left the headlights on, illuminating the pavement and forest. Jodie walked up the road, searching for any trace of a person. She moved slowly up one side and down the other, straining to see in the dark shadows of the ditch line. She was about to give up, when she saw black hair against pale skin wedged between two trees. Jodie felt the blood drain from her face. She was overwhelmed by guilt over falling asleep at the wheel and silently prayed she hadn't killed the person.

She stumbled down the gravel shoulder, putting her hands out to keep from falling into the ditch, and scraped her palms as she went. She got up, calling out to what appeared to be a woman. There was no movement, no noise. Jodie reached down and felt for a pulse, almost recoiling at touching the cold clammy body. She couldn't find any sign of life. She gently gripped the woman's hair, lifted her head, and screamed.

Jodie fell backwards into the ditch, stunned. A few seconds passed before she could get her bearings and comprehend what she was seeing. She clawed her way up to the roadway. She stood up and ran, fell, got up again and sprinted, hoping she would make it to the Camaro. Hands shaking and out of breath, she opened the trunk, pushing the wine aside to get to her revolver. While she turned in her agency-issued handgun, Jodie always kept her own gun for protection and practice.

She fumbled to load the gun and shuffled through the trunk for a flashlight. Finding it, she closed the trunk and crouched in a defensive position, the flashlight beam and gun barrel pointed into the darkness. She spun 360 degrees and backed up toward the Camaro's door. Instinctively, she checked the car interior before getting in. Once inside, she locked the doors and drove about a mile down the road. From there, she called 9-1-1. While she waited for police to arrive, she tried to breathe deeply and calm herself down.

She wondered how it could be possible. How could John Nelson have known she would come to her grandparents’ cabin? Was he following her? Or was he already here? And what had he done to that poor woman’s face? It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Jodie realized she was probably going into shock. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, shaking her head, struggling to stay conscious, but her vision gradually blurred and turned to blackness. She had no choice but to allow herself to fall unconscious as the police cruiser and ambulance approached the Camaro.                 .    

              Autumn. The word itself made Noah happy. Cool mornings followed by warm afternoons and campfires outside in the evening. Apples would be ripe and ready for picking soon. Noah's favorite was a Macintosh dipped in sweet chewy caramel and coated with those little pieces of peanuts. He made a mental note to remind his mom when he got home from the river to stock up on those nuts.

While the rest of the thirteen-year old kids in Mountain City wasted their free time with video games and movies, fishing was about the only thing Noah and his best friend, Tim 'Fester,' Martin, wanted to do. Tim earned the nickname 'Fester' after an unfortunate encounter with a fishhook that left him with a quarter size open wound on his shin that festered for almost two weeks. He would never live that one down, and Noah gave him the nickname to remind him.

Noah and Fester came from two sides of the river and met on top of the old dam, each crossing by passing the 'DANGER' and 'KEEP OFF' signs posted by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. Noah set his tackle box and pole next to Fester's on a high spot in the middle of the dam that usually stayed fairly dry later in the summer. He felt the river washing over his ankles, pulling on him as it careened at and veered around where he was standing, crashing into foam over thirty feet below. The power was enormous and the sound deafening.

Before moving on to their favorite fishing hole upstream, they would sometimes throw things in the river from the top of the dam. Noah loved to watch the objects being pulled over the edge and shatter into pieces as the water slammed them into the rocks below. He and Fester had done this dozens of times, one time pushing over a large tree branch, almost getting caught on a limb as they sent it plunging down.

Noah leaned far over the edge of the dam, trying to see what had collected at the bottom. Peering over the edge, he saw nothing but tree branches and a few old cans and bottles. He was anxious to fish and looked up at Fester, about to tell him they should get going, but Fester was gone. He frantically looked left, right, then down. Fester had been knocked down by something floating in the strong current, actually
someone
, who was now tangled around his feet, dragging him toward the edge of the dam. Fester was floundering and clawing at the concrete, grabbing at the air for something to hold onto.

Noah dropped to all fours on the dry spot and shot out a frantic hand. Whoever was holding Fester seemed to be hooked on something, keeping them from going over the edge, but Fester's head kept getting pushed under the water. Noah could see the panic in Fester's eyes. He was starting to feel pretty scared, too. Realizing his friend was running out of air and energy, Noah threw himself down on the dam and inched into the cool water enough so his legs stayed on the dry spot, with his feet wedged between a crack in the concrete. He reached all the way into the rushing torrent, almost face to face now with Fester.

That's when he smelled it. A horrible smell of decay, like that time he stepped on the dead cat in the tall grass on the side of the road. Except worse. Much, much worse. He fought the urge to throw up and grabbed onto Fester as they both pushed on the rotting corpse, Noah with his hands and Fester kicking with one free foot. The head of the man bobbed up out of the water when Noah pushed on it. An eyeless socket stared back at him and he stifled a scream.

Whatever the man was hooked on was freed, but Fester was still attached to him. Noah instantly saw what was going to happen. The corpse was going to pull Fester over.

"Watch out," Noah screamed, as the corpse spun and went over the dam.

He could see the terror on Fester's face as he was torn away, sliding over the edge, unable to free himself from the dead man. Noah stared at his empty hands, feeling a sinking sensation all over his body. He pushed himself closer to the edge of the dam, holding his breath, helplessly watching Fester plunge to the bottom.

In some mid-air acrobatics, Fester and the corpse spun so that Fester actually rode the dead man down for the last ten feet or so. In the last few moments, the trajectory of the corpse changed and it headed right for a large tree branch. The sharp end of the branch was sticking up, forming a skewer-like point that the dead man plunged down onto. Suspended in mid-air on top of an impaled corpse with clouds of spray raining down on him, Fester stared back up at Noah, slack-jawed. Noah felt his jaw drop, too.

Coming to his senses, Noah yelled, "Hang on," and ran for help. He looked back in time to see Fester leaning over the edge of the corpse, throwing up into the foamy water.

Noah ran into town and headed for the first place he knew of with a phone. He stumbled breathless into the convenience store and asked the clerk to call the police. The clerk handed him the phone. Noah explained that his friend needed rescuing from the river and waited at the store for the police to pick him up so he could show them where Fester was. Noah couldn't imagine how horrible it must be for Fester to have to hang onto a dead man, especially one that smelled as bad as that dead man, so was hoping they would hurry.

Not much happened in Mountain City since the grease fire at the all night diner a couple of years ago. As a result, the entire police force was made up of only one officer, who split his time between visiting the local bakery and playing cards with the one fulltime member of the fire department. The town relied heavily on volunteers for assistance. Noah watched the cars pulling into the convenience store parking lot, one after the other. It seemed like all of Mountain City's adult male residents volunteered for one department or the other. So, when Noah called for help, pretty much everybody who could be there came to hear about what was going on with Fester. He walked outside as the police car drove up.

"There's a dead guy who knocked Fester ... I mean, Tim, into the water and they both went over the old dam. Fest-- I mean, Tim, is hanging on to the guy right now," Noah told Officer Charles Wending.

"A dead guy knocked him over the dam? This one I gotta see. If he's really dead, then I gotta call the County Coroner and get him up here. You sure he's dead, boy?" the officer asked.

"Yes, sir. I'm sure. He smells real bad. I dunno how long Tim's gonna be able to hang on. Can we just get going?"

"Sure, boy. You ride with me," Officer Wending said.

Noah got in the front seat of the police cruiser and Officer Wending drove down to the river. On the way, the officer called the County Coroner.

"You want me to do what?" the officer said into his phone. "Secure the crime scene? This probably ain't no crime. Just somebody drowned themselves and--"

Noah could hear a loud voice crackling through the phone receiver, but couldn't make out the words. He could tell by the tone of their voice that the person was irritated, though.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of it. I mean, I'll secure the crime scene. Sure. Anything in particular you need me to do?"

Officer Wending pulled the phone away from his ear as the volume of the voice on the other end increased. Noah could make out something about having to use a handbook and procedures.

"Okee dokee. I'll get right on it," Officer Wending said as he snapped the phone shut. "Those people have too much time on their hands. Don't you worry, boy. We'll get your friend back on dry land quicker 'n you can say cheese hot dog. Goldarnit if I'm not hungry again. Oh, well."

Noah remembered the smell of the dead guy and the idea of a cheese hot dog made his stomach rumble in a funny way. They turned off on the muddy river road and could only travel a few hundred feet in the cruiser before the wheels started to spin in the muck. Officer Wending parked and they walked a quarter mile the rest of the way, followed by the Mountain City Fire Department, consisting of one fireman and twenty-eight eager volunteers. Some of the volunteers brought ropes, others carried blankets. One man was holding a grappling hook. Noah wondered what that man had in mind.

When the group came upon the river, Noah saw the screwed-up look on some of their faces, realizing they smelled the scene before they saw it. He listened as about half of the fire department volunteers came up with excuses to leave. He watched them as they made a quick exit, hurrying to get upwind enough to escape the odor of the dead man. Once they arrived at the dam, Noah turned his attention to Fester.

"You okay there, Fester?" Noah called out, noticing his friend's face was a funny shade of pale green.

Fester gave a thumbs up as best he could, his one hand hanging onto the tree limb and the other holding his shirttail over his mouth and nose. Noah looked back at Officer Wending, who was glaring at him.

"What the Sam Hill were you boys doin' out on that old piece of dam, anyways? I can't wait to tell your mama what kinda mess you got into," Wending said. Directing his attention at the remaining Fire Department, he said, "Let's get him offa there before we end up with two dead guys."

Noah watched as the fireman and two volunteers made their way across the dam and passed the boys' fishing gear to the volunteers on the shore. They dropped a rope down to Fester and the fireman explained how he should fasten it around his waist. Fester tied the rope quickly. Noah was relieved Fester was attached to the safety line and watched as one of the volunteers dropped another rope down.

"Now, you're gonna have to tie the same knot on the dead guy," the volunteer said.

Fester looked back up at the group of men on the dam with disbelief on his face and tears in his eyes.

"Don't make him do that," Noah said.

"We gotta get his body, too, and nobody here wants to go down there and touch him, smellin' the way he does. So, keep your mouth shut and stand back, boy," Officer Wending said.

Noah and Fester locked eyes.

"Just tie the rope on, Fester, and they'll pull you up," Noah called out, hoping his friend would go ahead and get it over with quickly.

Fester nodded and leaned over the dead man. As he was about to put the rope around the man's waist, something gave way. Noah heard a snapping sound. He didn't know if it was coming from the tree or from the man, but watched as the tree branch broke in two, a sharp end tearing through the side of the corpse. Suddenly, Fester was hanging onto the rope, swinging back and forth into the waterfall. The force of the water shoved him down, cinching the rope around his waist. Noah could see Fester was having trouble breathing because the rope was so tight.

"Hang on kid," the fireman yelled out, and the three men pulled on the rope as fast as they could. Fester was finally up at the top of the dam where the fireman worked quickly to untie the rope from his waist. Noah was relieved when he heard Fester drawing in a raspy breath. He realized he'd held his own breath, watching the scene unfold. He inhaled deeply, only to be repulsed by the odor of the dead man, still lingering in the air. His friend staggered while trying to stand with the fireman holding onto him, but he eventually stood up on his own and made his way to shore.

"Well, I thought this would come in handy. I better get to work," the man with the grappling hook said, spinning the three-pronged hook in a wide circle, as if he was going to lasso a cow. Everyone watched as the hook flew through the air and landed with a splash underneath the dam.

"Kid, you really smell bad. We gotta get you outta those clothes. Are you hurt anywhere?" the fireman asked.

Fester took the contents of his pockets out and stowed it in his tackle box. He quickly stripped off his clothes down to his underwear, searching his body for wounds. One of the volunteers covered him in a wool blanket. Noah started to itch all over just thinking of that wool against Fester's skin.

"No, I don't think so. I only got a scratch. When the guy hit the tree, it was just like one of them shish kabobs. I got scratched by the branch after it stuck the guy," Fester said, pointing to a reddish scrape extending from the middle of his abdomen up to his chest.

Noah went to Fester to check out the wound and was thoroughly impressed. They walked over to sit on a boulder a few feet away from the rest of the group. "Wow. That was really gross. I'm glad that dead guy didn't fall off before we got here," Noah said.

Fester looked at Noah, smiling weakly, and said, "Me, too."

Officer Wending shuffled over to them. "Boys, we're gonna have to go back to the station and get a statement from you. The Fire Department will finish up here. And, we gotta call your mamas. I bet they'll wanna hear about your little adventure, too."

Noah grabbed all of the fishing gear and followed Fester and Officer Wending along the riverbank. He grimaced when he heard the volunteers talking down by the water.

"Think I got his foot in the hook now… nope, lost it," someone said.

Noah wondered how much of the dead guy would be left by the time the volunteers were done.

Later, the boys were sitting in the police station, waiting for their mothers to retrieve them, when one of the volunteers came in and approached Officer Wending. "Well, we got part of him. The coroner says he wants to shut down for the day, though. Gotta get some better equipment out here to get the rest of him."

Noah looked at Fester, who was turning that funny shade of green again. Then, he glanced up and saw a more worried face. His mom was rushing up to the glass door. She came in and ran to Noah, pulling him close to her and hugging him tightly.