Part 16 (1/2)

”So what's this?” he asked. ”The Haunted Paper Mill of Angel Hill?”

”Cute. But no,” Charley said.

”Then what?”

Charley started toward the back of the building.

”Follow me.”

Jack did. Charley led him to a loading dock around back.

”You're not gonna mug me back here, are you?” Jack joked.

”Over here,” Charley said.

Behind the building a little way was an undeveloped area of woods. Charley was walking into them and waving Jack to follow.

”Naw, I saw this movie,” Jack said. ”I follow you in there, and you come back out alone. In thirty years, while you're on your deathbed, you finally lead the cops to my body. No thanks.”

”Just come on,” Charley said. Jack followed him.

They walked about two hundred feet into the woods when they came up on a large concrete slab. That's a weird place for something like that, Jack thought. As they approached it, he could see the thing was just what it looked like, a big concrete block. There were no seams, no holes. Just the block.

”What's this, your altar?” Jack asked.

”This is the cover to The Pit.”

”Alright, then,” Jack said.

”About twenty years ago, some friends and I were playing here in these woods. Like kids do, you know, regular kid games. My friend Doug Parker and I were running through here one day and all of the sudden . . . he was just gone. I mean, I glanced over and there's no Doug. Strange thing was, there was nowhere he could have gone. I figured he'd taken off another direction, and when he didn't jump out at me, well, he must have gone home.”

Jack started to take a seat on the slab.

”Don't sit there,” Charley warned him. Jack stood up and moved instead to lean against a tree.

”So anyway,” Charley continued, ”I figured he went home, and the other guys we'd been hanging out with, Steve and Vernon Scotia, they'd left earlier, so I went home, too. Next day, Doug never showed up. Must be busy with his family, right? It happens. So me and the Scotias, we hung out, played in the woods or something that day. When I got home, my dad told me to call Doug's house. Well, it was late, I'll talk to him tomorrow, I figured, right? They called me the next morning asking if I knew where Doug was. They hadn't seen him in two days. Neither had I. I told them we'd been playing in the woods behind the paper mill, and that I thought he'd gone home.”

Jack slapped a mosquito on his arm and wiped it away. Charley didn't seem to be bothered by them. In fact, he didn't seem to even notice Jack was there anymore, other than the fact he was talking to him. Or maybe he was talking to himself. Jack thought that's the look on his face, like he's telling himself this story.

”So Doug went missing. And over that summer so did a few other kids. When the police learned the last place they'd been seen was in these woods, right here, in fact, they started searching for stuff. Hair, clothes, blood, anything that might lead them to the kids, or to whoever took them. One day one of the cops came up missing.”

Charley took a deep breath, let it out in a long, heavy sigh.

”There were four officers here that day, all working around this area. Two of them right here.” He motioned to the slab. ”One of them just happened to turn around and see this hole in the ground closing up. His partner was gone. The one that was left about lost his mind, but he was able to tell people what happened. This slab was put here that day.”

He stopped and turned around, looked out into the woods, squinted at the sun. He was obviously finished.

”So that's it?” Jack asked.

”That's it,” Charley said, shrugging. ”You can think that--” he motioned in the direction of the apartment building, ”--was set up all you want, but this right here, this is doc.u.mented fact, and you can look it up. It was in the paper.”

”But if just the one guy saw it . . . h.e.l.l, he could have been the one responsible for the disappearances in the first place and just made up the stupid story about a disappearing hole in the ground. What I really can't believe is that anyone bought it.”

”It's Angel Hill, man. We know stuff happens here--.”

”Yeah, and that makes it easier to get away with. Someone gives you all a story like this--Oh, I don't know, officer, I turned around and he was gone and this great big hole in the ground is closing around him--you people buy it without question just because you've all allowed this reputation to build over the years. Come on, man, it's just a town. Tell me, after this,” he indicated the concrete block, ”did anyone search anymore for those kids or that missing cop?”

”No,” Charley said, shaking his head. ”They didn't.”

”There you go, problem solved. He gets away with a few kids and a cop--who was probably just about to dig up something the other guy didn't want found--and gives you a stupid story, everyone believes it, he gets away clean.”

”Not exactly. I told you, that guy about lost his mind. He got moved to the Fairfield State Inst.i.tute not long after that. He was there until they closed it down. Don't know where he is now, but it ain't on the Angel Hill Police force.”

”Still,” Jack said. ”Come on, man. Think about that one for a minute, huh? Whether your story is true or not, or whether my explanation is right or not, you have to admit, mine does make a little more sense than *a hole opened up in the ground and swallowed them.'”

Charley looked at his watch.

”Come on,” he said. ”You can go home now, just drop me off to get my car.”

Jack followed him out of the woods and drove him back to Fett Tech.

After an hour, Liz had put the book out of her mind. By the time Jack got home that night, she'd forgotten it completely.

”You wouldn't believe the stuff Charley tried to tell me today,” he said, taking off his boots. He told her about the apartment building and the b.a.l.l.s, and said, ”And now that I think about it, that ball I had did feel kind of heavy. Probably the metal they put in it for the magnets in the floor. Can't believe they tried that on me. And then he shows me this cement block in the woods, saying some hole opened up and swallowed a bunch of people twenty years ago. That guy is desperate to get me to buy all this Haunted Angel Hill stuff.”

Liz shrugged, and raised her eyebrows, a What'reyagonnado? gesture.

He kissed her on the head, then went into the kitchen to heat up the meatloaf.

Liz remembered the book again as she climbed into bed a couple hours later. By that time, it didn't seem as important as it had. Maybe she'd ask him tomorrow about it. She huddled to him, felt his arm moving down her side, his kisses on her cheek, her jaw, and she knew Joey was asleep, so she wrapped a leg over his and kissed him back.

When Jack had dozed off afterward, Liz felt herself drifting off just as a crash came booming through the ceiling. She leapt up, gasping. She looked at the ceiling, then down at Jack. Why hadn't he heard? Why was he still asleep?

The crash came again. She jumped again.

The piano--(We don't even have a piano, Liz thought)--sounded its out-of-tune notes.

She pulled on a pair of shorts from the floor, a tank top over her head, and she was in the hall, on the steps, ascending slowly.

Rounding the landing, she saw nothing. On the second floor, the darkness stood fast.

Then someone appeared out of the night, small and dull in the middle of the room. This wasn't the little boy she'd seen in the shower, this person was older, maybe ten.

Liz stood back, uncertain, but not quite afraid.

”You won't scare me away,” she said.