Part 20 (1/2)

If you re brave enough, that is.

I had seen what had happened to Faulkner. What if the same thing had been done to Megan, only multiplied one hundred times? Or worse?

What if she wasn't alive and the creature was doing a total head game?

Didn't matter. Megan might be down there, and I had to get her out.

I crawled back to Faulkner, feeling the ground. My fingers finally latched on to the blade I'd dropped when the creature had freaked me out, but once they closed around the hilt of the knife, I was ready.

I stopped beside my brother one more time. Hoping for something, anything. But he never moved. I had no time to allow my emotions in, to even think about whether Faulkner was dead or alive. Right now I had to concentrate on the one person I could save. Megan.

I dug the flashlight out of the backpack, slipped it onto my wrist, then got the rope and tied it around a tree. I took a deep breath, climbed onto the edge of the well, and braced my feet on the inside. 'Rasta luego, amigo. ”

I didn't think Faulkner heard me. But it made me feel better to say it.

And then I started down.

The stench from the well swam over me, a ma.s.sive ”how you doin”' coming at me hard and heavy.

Shallow breaths. Keep going. Don't think about it.

One foot down. Two. Three.

I flicked the flashlight's switch and the yellow beam sprang to life. The laughter died down, dwindling off to nothing, echoing for a few seconds, then ebbing away. There were a few scuffles from below, and then a Not a sound.

At first, all the light showed were the slime-coated stone walls of the well, the vines climbing up the sides like a green racetrack running to Faulkner. Then I swung the light to the bottom. Half wanting to see what was coming.

And half not.

But there was nothing below me. Nothing but the reflec tion of the beam in the water and the white glint of the piles of bones. I swallowed back the bile in my throat. I shook my head and looked away for a second. Those guys were dead. There was nothing I could do about them now. I had to get to Megan.

I started down again. Move. Breathe. Concentrate. Deal with the rest later.

”Megan?”

No answer.

”Megan, I'm on my way. I'm not leaving without you.” I prayed she could hear me. That she was still alive. When I was done saving Megan and Faulkner, I was going to kill that thing. Twice, if that was possible.

My Vans slipped against the side of the well, but I held tightly to the rope. My wrist ached, and I knew I was going to pay later for the damage I was doing to it. Probably never be able to play baseball again. But I didn't care.

Two more feet. Three. Four. No sounds from below. That was no comfort to me. I'd rather have heard a Dora the Explorer CD stuck on the same track than nothing.

The quiet meant one thing.

The creature was somewhere waiting. Waiting for me to arrive.

And then the showdown would start. Like in those old cowboy movies. Like in The Matrix. Like in Hamlet. Good versus evil. Me and my knife, me versus it. Someone would walk out of here, and someone would stay at the bottom.

I slid down the rest of the way and hit the floor. Water splashed up, soaking me with the scent of the well. I moved to wipe the mud off my jeans, then stopped. What if the creature was like a dog and the more I smelled like him, the less he could sense me?

I swung the flashlight around, past the piles of bones. The walls were coated with a thick, white bubbly fungus that seemed to a breathe. Vines covered every inch of the walls, pulsing back and forth as if they were alive. Then, spattered here and there, darker splotches.

Dried blood.

I was sure as s.h.i.+t never going to watch another horror movie again. I had seen more in the past few days than Wes Craven could ever dream up.

I turned away, swinging the light around the small s.p.a.ce. And this time I found what I thought had been there all along.

A tunnel.

Nothing sophisticated, and nothing made by human tools, I saw, when I got closer. The sides of the stones were rough, broken in some places. And then, along the edges, claw marks. The tunnel had been dug by hand. Stones yanked out, torn away by fingers, rubble piled beside it, deep ten-digit grooves cut into the walls.

G.o.d. What was this thing?

I shuddered and ducked down into the tunnel. It was only about four feet tall and two and a half, maybe three, feet wide, like a hobbit lived here, although I knew this was no happy Tolkien creature. The flashlight beamed off the walls. I had the knife raised and ready in an unsteady grip.

One step forward. Another. Deeper into the creature's lair, knowing that I was probably walking toward my own horrible fate. The sacrifice Gerard had written about. That my mother had been trying to push me toward. That I was pretty sure Sam was wrapped up in, too.

All around me, the walls pulsed as though they had their own heartbeat. The white stuff bubbled, and the vines seemed to watch.

The well was alive.

”Megan?” I whispered.

”Cooper!” Relief sang in her voice. ”Thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d!”

”Where are you?” I swung the light around, up, and down, and at first all I saw were more stones, water, mud, vines. And then two familiar blue eyes.

She was in a prison made of vines, their green webs locked together tightly and thickly. But she looked okay. Dirty and scared, but okay. ”Megan.” I started to move forward.

”Stop, Cooper. He'll get you!”

The entire New England Patriots defensive line couldn't have kept me from running to Megan. I didn't care if it was a trap; I didn't care if the entire army of vine men was there or if the creature was waiting with open jaws and open arms. I charged forward, my heart somewhere in my shoes.

Just as I reached her, just as I saw her blue eyes widen and her smile begin to take over her face, something came out of nowhere and tackled me, taking me to the ground. I lunged, hands extending toward Megan, calling for her. She screamed my name, but the word died in the air as I landed in a shallow puddle of filth, the knife falling from my hand for the second time that night. I let out a curse, tried to catch the knife-and missed.

”Welcome home, Cooper,” the creature screeched, his breath hot on my neck, his body heavy on mine. ”I have waited so long for you. So, so long.”

I tried to squirm away, but he held tightly. He smelled like death, like that rotting-bodies farm, and I knew, I knew, if I didn't get away now, I never would.

I rolled hard to the right. The creature rolled with me, his claws digging into my back. I rolled to the left, then back to the right. ”Get off me, you freak!”

”Oh, you think I am a freak, Cooper? You don't understand what I am or who I am. Or what you are.” Then he pulled back, enough that I could flip over. And with me, my flashlight flipped, too.

Big mistake. Because now I saw what I was dealing with.

As they had the first time, the eyes. .h.i.t me the hardest. Green eyes, just like mine. It was like looking at myself. But that was where the similarities to anything human ended.

Those eyes were sunk into skin as pale as a dead pig's, as loose as a sheet flapping in the wind. As rotted as a forgotten orange in the back of the refrigerator. The same white bubbling foam covered his skin, as if he was molding, rotting, right before my eyes. His face seemed to be melting off his bones-if there were even any bones left on his stick-thin frame. And when he opened his mouth to laugh, I could see inside the yawning cavernous hole that should have held teeth and held instead honed points, the jaw of a shark.