Valley of the Shadow (26 page)

    When Conner had finished, Jim remained silent.

    “Look, I know you probably think I’m crazy,” Conner said after a moment. “And I wouldn’t blame you. I don’t expect you to believe anything I’ve said. But I think if you want to try to help Devon… I just thought you should know the whole weird story.”

    “
Weird
doesn’t begin to describe it,” Jim chuckled. “But what can I do? I mean, I don’t know where Devon is or where he’s going.”

    There was a long pause, and then Conner spoke up again. “Yesterday, I told Devon about Mitch. I think I even told him what hospital Mitch was at. If Devon is even half as curious as I’ve been, I’m guessing he may try to see if Mitch is really there.”

    Jim frowned. “You think so?”

    Conner sighed. “It’s just a hunch. I don’t know anything for sure. But if you feel like you want to pursue it, I’d encourage you to go see for yourself. And feel free to get in touch with my wife again. I’m not so sure she fully believes me either.”

    “So what are you doing in Indiana?”

    There was another pause. “I don’t know if I can explain this either. But I had to come down here and see Howard myself. I went to his farm, met his wife and son.”

    “Did you tell them what you told me?”

    “Sort of. But I have a bad feeling about those two.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything right now. I just have to check something out before I come back. It’s something I have to see for myself.”

    Jim hung up and went to the kitchen, where Annie was sitting at the table. She had heard only one end of his conversation with Conner, so Jim relayed the details as best he could. Annie’s frown grew deeper.

    “You okay?” Jim said.

    “Yeah.” She took a long breath. “Do you believe his story?”

    Jim shrugged. “Before yesterday, not in a million years. But now? I’m starting to see how… sheltered I’ve been.”

    Annie nodded. “I remember a missionary coming to our church when I was a kid. He had worked for years down in South America—Colombia or someplace. And I remember him telling us that demonic activity down there was so much more visible and direct. He said that Christians in America have been lulled into thinking demons aren’t real. That Satan is subtler here. That he comes as an angel of light.” She shuddered. “And I guess he was right, because I’m still having such a hard time believing this is real.”

    “Well, I don’t know if what I saw was something supernatural or not, but I can’t figure any other explanation.”

    Annie sighed. “So what do we do now?”

    Jim drummed his fingers on the table, holding the same inner debate he’d had the day before. On the one hand, he could go into the other room, turn on the TV, and forget about the whole thing. That would be the easy thing to do. The safe thing. It was the weekend, after all.

    But on the other hand… Well, the other hand held an option that offered none of those things. Finally he said, “I think we’ve come too far to quit now. It’s like God’s been giving us a trail of bread crumbs. And I have to keep following it.”

A SECOND DEAFENING BELLOW
shook the building.

    Nathan clutched Mitch by the arm and said, “We need to go. Now.”

    The glass doors along the front of the hotel exploded inward, showering the lobby with glass. A long, black limb—thick as a tree trunk—extended through the shattered doors. Gnarled claws unfolded and stretched out toward them.

    Nathan pulled Mitch back, out of the way, as the claws impaled one of the couches, smashing it into splinters. A second arm burst through the doors. Mitch could see the nightmarish, faceless head of the Keeper, its jagged maw opened wide with another earsplitting roar. The beast was forcing its way into the building like a dog burrowing after its quarry.

    “Come on!” Nathan pushed Mitch toward the stairwell that led to the parking garage.

    Rusted metal groaned and bent; concrete and bricks broke away as the massive creature forced itself through the entrance.

    They ran down the stairs and through the exits into the adjacent parking garage. Mitch jumped onto his Harley and started it up. Nathan was digging behind the seats of the Ferrari and produced the rocket launcher he’d used on the beast the last time.

    He loaded a new rocket into the feed and climbed on the back of Mitch’s bike. Twenty yards away, the Keeper was smashing through the wall from the hotel into the garage.

    “Go! Go! Go!” Nathan ordered. Mitch gunned the throttle and tore off through the garage.

    They emerged onto the street and Nathan tapped Mitch’s shoulder. “Hold up here!”

    He hopped off, spun around, and aimed.

    The missile screamed out of the launcher and disappeared into the garage entrance. Moments later an explosion rocked the building. A ball of flame and smoke rolled out toward the street. Nathan dropped the launcher, jumped back on the bike, and they tore off.

    They stopped again at the end of the block. Smoke billowed up the street toward them. The building seemed to groan and shudder. A moment later, the entire lower level collapsed onto itself, bringing the rest of the parking garage—and the hotel next to it—down in an expanding cloud of dust and debris.

    “Whoa!” Mitch swore. “One rocket did that?”

    Nathan smiled grimly. “You just never know in this town.”

    Mitch shook his head. “Man . . . that was such a nice Ferrari.”

    “I can’t take it with me,” Nathan said. “Not where I’m going.”

    They rolled through the city, weaving down side streets and alleys. They drove the rest of the morning and into the afternoon but still had not found the edge of the Gray City.

    “Dude, how big is this place?” Mitch said when he stopped to stretch his legs. Now with the two of them on the motorcycle, the ride was not nearly as comfortable. They had driven for hours and had found themselves on a wide plaza overlooking what may once have been a park. The trees were black and barren. And what grass remained was brown and dry. In the center of the plaza was what appeared to be a fountain, though it was completely devoid of water. The statues in the center were cracked and broken. Decapitated, with their large, concrete heads lying at their feet. On the rim of the fountain sat a slender, middle-aged woman, holding her purse. Mitch had almost overlooked her completely.

    The woman stared off into the distance.

    Mitch couldn’t help himself; he went over to her. “Hey . . . ma’am?”

    She did not appear to notice him.

    Mitch waved his hand in front of her face. “Yo, lady.”

    The woman wore a long black coat and clung tightly to her purse. She looked around but still didn’t appear to see him. Her hands were stained purple with the rash. The rash he’d seen so many times before on so many others.

    Nathan walked up. “Some souls are so wrapped up inside themselves, they don’t even notice anyone else.”

    “She can’t even see us?”

    “She could if she wanted to.” Nathan sighed. “But people delude themselves. They create their own theology. Trust their own intellect. And when they come here, their delusion continues. They see what they want to see. And only what they want to see.”

    “She’s not going to make it, is she?” Mitch said, nodding to the woman’s hands.

    “She’s like so many others here. They live their lives, make their choices, and suffer the consequences.”

    “Consequences? What’d she do to deserve this?”

    Nathan’s voice grew stern. “Mitch, He gave everything for her. He offered His grace for free, and she turned her back on it. She didn’t think she needed it. She thought she was good enough.”

    “Is that so evil?”

    Nathan rubbed his jaw for a moment. “Well, I don’t know, Mitch. How bad would she have to be to go to hell?”

    Mitch stood with his arms crossed and stared at the woman. She looked down at her hands. Felt the purple, spotted skin. Then she sighed and looked around again, completely oblivious to Mitch.

    “So you’re telling me this lady and some mass murderer will both end up going to the same place? they get the same punishment?”

    “Everyone’s judged according to their works. God may not punish all sin the same, but He does punish it all.”

    Off in the distance a low rumble echoed through the streets. The sky was growing dark. To the east, between the buildings, they could see an enormous black patch inside the clouds. It seemed to creep across the sky, spreading outward like an ink stain soaking through a gray sheet. It fanned out black tendrils and moved westward on a slow but steady course.

    Mitch momentarily forgot about the old woman and climbed onto the fountain for a better look. “Dude… what’s that?”

    Nathan’s lips were tight. He shook his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

    “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

    “He’s found us. He’s coming.”

CONNER RETRACED HIS PATH
and drove past the Bristol farm one more time. The van was still there, now moved to the garage. But no one was in sight.

    Conner drove up the road roughly a quarter mile before he came upon an access drive into a field. There were some trees and brush where he could park out of sight. Conner looked across the highway, over another open field, to a line of trees several hundred yards back. The woods on the Bristols’ property.

    Then Conner turned around and followed the highway back into Westville. His mind was still buzzing with the bizarre conversation he’d had with Jim Malone. Somehow Jim had been drawn into Conner’s story, and Conner knew it had been for a reason. And that gave him at least some sense of peace.

    For two months Conner had felt too inadequate for whatever God wanted him to do. He’d felt like he was alone in his struggle. Now he knew he wasn’t. God had let him see that there were others being brought together to help.

    He hoped he’d done the right thing by suggesting Jim drive up to Winthrop Harbor to check on Mitch. He’d given Jim his cell phone number and his home number as well. Then he contacted Marta again to fill her in with the new information.

    On one hand, he was making a wild guess that Devon would try to see Mitch at all. On the other, he’d felt there was a certain logic to it as well. That somehow it had been the right thing to do. Conner still wasn’t sure what was going on, but he felt that they were all interconnected in some way.

    And so were Howard and his family.

    Conner came across a sporting goods store along the main business route through town and stopped to purchase a few items. A flashlight, a compass, hiking boots, and a camouflage hunting jacket. He also purchased a hunting knife and a Smith & Wesson pistol with a box of ammunition.

    “Let me guess,” the clerk said with a wink. “Possum?”

    Conner forced a grim smile and nodded. “Something like that.”

    By now it was close to five o’clock. This late in October, it would be getting dark before too long. Conner decided to wait until just before dusk, when it was dark enough to remain unseen but not so dark that he’d get lost. He changed his shoes and slipped on the jacket.

    At six o’clock, Conner returned to the field and parked behind the trees. His stomach was tight with fear. He paused for another prayer before getting out of the car.

    “Lord . . . it’s me again. I just wanted to ask for whatever kind of protection You can provide. It’d really be nice to get some kind of sign… y’know, something to let me know I’m doing the right thing. That this is really what You want me to do. And also, just to let You know that I’m scared. Really scared. But I’m sure You probably knew that already. And if anything happens to me tonight… well, at least this time I know where I’m going. And… well, I want to thank You for that.”

    Conner loaded the revolver and stuck some extra ammo in his jacket pocket. Then he tied the hunting knife to his belt, got out of the car, and crossed the highway. He crouched low as he crept across the open field. All the corn had been cut, leaving rows of dried stubs jutting up from the ground. It made his passage easier but unfortunately left him no cover during his trek toward the woods.

    Conner kept an eye on the farmhouse to his right. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe they were settling in for the night. But Conner’s main thought now was just to make it to the cover of the trees. After that, he would try—as best as he could remember—to locate the old cabin.

    The sun had dipped behind the clouds along the horizon. This was good, Conner figured, in that he wouldn’t cast a long shadow on the ground as he moved across the field. But now he wished he’d been more of an outdoorsman. At least then he might be better prepared for whatever he might find tromping around in the woods. Conner glanced at the sky and estimated he had maybe a half hour of usable daylight left.

    Finally he drew up to the line of trees. He looked at the branches and another wave of déjà vu washed over him. His mouth was dry. He’d been here before. He’d been here in the Interworld, and he’d been here several times in his dreams.

    And now he was here. Again.

    Conner took several deep breaths, steeling himself against his fear. He glanced back at the house, now shadowy and menacing in the gloomy light. Then he turned and pushed his way into the brush.

JIM AND ANNIE KISSED
their children good-bye. Annie’s mother had come over to watch them while Jim and Annie headed out, hopefully to find Devon. Jim’s mind was still spinning and he couldn’t believe he was actually going along with this whole idea.

    Conner seemed fairly confident that Devon was headed to Winthrop Harbor. Maybe just to confirm his near-death experience by actually seeing Mitch in person. Or maybe there was some other purpose. If in fact Devon was being influenced by some kind of spiritual force, who knew what that purpose could be.