Neverwood
Title: Neverwood, Part IV
Pairing: ja/jp, former ja/jdm
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Genuine horror here. I hope.
Word Count: ~51k
Summary: Aiden Thomas Padalecki is violently and mysteriously kidnapped, leaving behind distraught parents who have no idea why their only child was taken. After months of futile investigation, the frantic father witnesses the slow but inevitable decline in the search of his only child. Half mad with grief, Jared goes to an island off the coast of Washington, holding the last clue that may help him find his son. But it is all a trap, and there’s someone crouching, waiting for him to pay back for sins not of his making.
Notes: Adapted from Peter Pan, written for j2_everafter.
Disclaimer: 127.5% fiction.
Jared studied the chintzy duvet Laura Ashley threw up, then Chad who was already on his side of the king bed, looking comfortable and ready to sleep. “Why in fuck did you not get two beds?”
“Because I thought we had to convince the locals that we’re from Hollywood. So…”
Jared collapsed onto his side of the bed and buried his face in his hands.
“Hey!” Chad squawked in outrage, “A lot of women would kill to be where you are! And I know at least a dozen men who’d be just as happy whether I was interested or not.”
“I feel honored, really, but you kick in your sleep.”
“How in hell do you know that?”
“We shared a bed when we went to Las Vegas, remember?”
Chad’s eyes narrowed even further. “Oh wow, I forgot all about that!”
“That’s because you were drunk or hung over for the entire friggin’ weekend.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who jumped on stage and started stripping!”
Jared reddened when he remembered that particular incident. And the forty-two year old yacht salesman he’d almost gone to bed with if Chad hadn’t stepped in. Even drunk, his friend still possessed more sense than Jared who was an easy date in spite of his size.
“So, about that Ackles dude. Is he going to give us any trouble?”
Jared laid down on the bed and examined the ceiling with studious care.
“I take it there was something between you two.” Chad eyed his friend with great curiosity. “But you weren't lying to me when you said you didn’t fuck him, right?”
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “No, Chad, I didn’t lie.”
“Good, because that would be awkward, and maybe dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Dangerous if he decides he’s not going to do us any favors. I don’t know why he agreed to look the other way, but if he changes his mind then he could really do a number on us.”
Jared looked at Chad. “Exactly what are you planning to do? Break into the local museum and steal their harpoon collection from the island’s whaling days?”
Chad looked at Jared with wide, excited eyes. “That would be great.”
“We’re not here…”
“I was kidding, you numbnut.” Chad sat up and took off his boots. He threw them on the floor and then leaned back into the nest of pillows he’d created against the headboard.
“Look, I don’t know what’s up between you and the pretty boy sheriff, but don’t let it get in the way with why we’re really here, okay?
“If you have to play nice with the man, do it. Seriously, if all it takes is sweet talk to get the sheriff on our side, then hey, use that Texas charm of yours until your tongue falls off.”
“Only if you shut up,” Jared groused. “Jesus, I’m so tired.”
“You look like something Death would reject,” Chad said. “Get some rest. We’ve got an island to explore tomorrow.”
Jared didn’t bother to get up to take a shower or brush his teeth. He rolled over and turned off his bedside lamp while Chad did the same. His subconscious was merciful that night, and Jared dreamt of his son just once. He watched Aiden run through the woods, cavorting like a wild animal. He even acted like one when he heard his father calling for him: heading right into the dark woods the moment he realized that a person caught sight of him.
Jared woke himself up by crying out for his son.
Henrietta’s curious glances drove both Chad and Jared out of inn before they even had a chance to order breakfast.
“There better be a Starbucks,” Chad groused as he examined the streets branching out in front of the inn.
Jared saw nothing but closed buildings and drunks slowly waking up to sunrise. “I’m thinking not.”
“Fuck me,” Chad stated flatly. “We’re finding coffee somewhere, dude.”
Jared went north, into the heart of Alliance Bay. His long gait took them into the main street within minutes. Chad looked around, the eagerness on his face growing as he realized the buildings were much cleaner and the few people wandering about sober and showered.
“Wow,” Jared said when he noticed the storefronts and the fact that good half of them were related to artwork. He then spotted the town hall which stood out with its practical brick façade and metal doors.
Chad noticed the same thing. “It’s too early for anything to be open.”
“Save for a coffee shop?” Jared supplied.
“Yeah,” Chad said. “By the way, here’s a picture of Steve Carlson.”
Jared took Chad’s iTouch and stared at the tiny screen. “They let him navigate a ferry? I’d be scared to give him a tricycle.”
“He’s also a singer. From what I gathered he’s popular around the islands.”
“That makes it worse, actually.”
“You’re welcome,” Chad said. “Let’s fine some caffeine for God’s sake.”
They passed three stores before they found a diner that looked clean enough to pass the last health inspection. Jared had just enough appetite for coffee, but as soon as they entered the place his stomach started protesting its current condition. Chad chuckled when he heard the noise but said nothing.
“Come to the counter,” the waitress said. “Service is going to be faster!”
The two men climbed on the stools and looked at the cheerful woman filling the sugar bowls. “Name’s Sophia,” the used-to-be peroxide blonde said. “What you need besides coffee?”
“Stack of pancakes,” Jared said.
“I’ll have some hash browns with toast,” Chad added, ogling at the pretty woman in spite of the bizarre dual-colored hairstyle she had going.
“Be in three,” Sophia shouted over her left shoulder as leaned over the order window and passed on their choices to the cook who gave them a bored glance before firing up the grill.
“So, what brings you two here?” Sophia asked.
“You mean you really have no idea?” Chad teased. Sophia blushed and gave a small shrug.
Jared relaxed. Chad was in his element and that meant he didn’t have to do anything save not to look like a drooling idiot or an axe murderer.
The pancakes were hot and the syrup was the real stuff, but Jared was forced to wash down each bite with coffee as he remembered how much Aiden loved to drown his pancakes with syrup, butter, and strawberries whenever they were in season.
“Oh hey, Chris!”
“Heya!” The reply was peppered with such a distinct accent that Jared turned to look at the newcomer. At first glance the man looked like Steve Carlson’s brother.
“You must be the California boys,” Chris said. “Jensen told me about you guys earlier.”
Jared paled a little and Chris must have seen it because his grin suddenly revealed more teeth. In fact, Jared had never seen a smile that looked more like a threat. And to make the situation even more precarious, he took the stool next to Jared without invitation.
“I heard you’re looking for places to shoot a movie?” Chris asked, his voice dangerously close to mocking.
“Behave!” Sophia warned her friend. “Don’t mind him: he hasn’t been fed.”
Chris winked at her. “You know how to fix that, right?”
“One heart attack, coming right up!”
Chris turned to Jared and said, “So, seen anything interesting yet?”
“Drunks down by the water,” Chad answered without hesitation. “You might want to get on that before the tourists arrive.”
“Talk to Jensen,” Chris shot back. “That’s his job.”
Jared gave a quelling glance at Chad who went back to flirting with Sophia.
“So, do you know Steve?” Jared asked, hoping Jensen had told Chris about that part of their conversation.
“Yep,” Chris said. “He’s sleeping now.”
“Are you his boyfriend?”
Chris laughed and shook his head. “Nope, but I know his schedule. He had three-two tradeoff: three days of work, two days off. Yesterday was his third day.”
“When will he be willing to talk to us?” Jared couldn’t stop himself from looking hopeful. And it had the nice effect of making Chris a bit more amiable - in conversing at least.
“Not until ten,” Chris answered. “The job’s exhausting for him.”
“Thanks,” Jared answered. “Will he be at home?”
“No,” Chris said. “You’ll probably catch him when he does his walkabout.”
“Walkabout?”
“Yep,” Chris said with a grin. “The man’s got a hankering for walking. And not just for exercise either. He nails down ten to twelve miles whenever he gets in the mood.”
“Is that why he’s so familiar with the island?”
“Jensen told you about Steve’s little hobby?”
“Only that he has a good deal of knowledge about the history of the island.”
Chris nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s right.” He gave a quizzical look at Jared. “How could that possibly help you?”
“We have to tread carefully here, so it stands to reason to know the entire back-story of the place.”
“Sounds reasonable, I guess,” Chris said. “By the way, Jensen was curious: did you bring the Kindle statue?”
“Yes,” Jared answered quickly. “And I plan to hand it over as soon as I can.”
Jared immediately regretted his words: it sounded as if he were holding the artwork as ransom, in trade for Jensen’s cooperation. Chris’ smile returned to is cynical phase but the man said nothing. Instead, he waited silently for Sophia to slide his plate in front of him. With a “thank you, darling,” he began digging into his breakfast with such gusto, Jared wondered when was the last time the man ate.
Chad paid for their breakfast and the two left as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to their hasty exit. Jared knew Chris and Sophia would start gossiping the moment they stepped outside, and he hoped that Chris possessed the same level of discretion Jensen did.
They systematically examined the streets but couldn’t locate the library. Then Chad pointed out to a small park whose western side was cupped in by high hills. Morning joggers ignored them as they climbed to the highest point in the park.
“Wow,” Chad said when he noticed the town laid out below them. “That’s nice.”
“Perfect for summer people,” Jared added. He then pointed to a lone mansion isolated from the rest of Alliance Bay, almost completely surrounded by woods. “Look at that.”
“Okay, that’s pretty freaksome,” Chad said, studying the house. “I’m guessing that’s not summer people ‘cause it would give any sane person the screaming meemies.”
“Someone must live there,” Jared reasoned. “The second floor is lit.”
“Wanna go and say hello?” Chad said. “Bet they’ve got lots of juicy stuff about the island.”
Jared knew his friend’s reasoning was solid, but he couldn’t muster up enough courage to agree with Chad. Instead, he pulled out a map and noted the landmarks. It was only then Jared noticed how large Cascade State Park was. It took almost seventy percent of the island and its shoreline. Save for Alliance Bay, there was almost no easy beach access.
“You gotta wonder,” Chad mused.
“Wonder about what?”
“Why there isn’t any development,” Chad answered. “I mean - look, this is prime real estate and I don’t see any new housing.”
“First off, this is a fishing town.”
“No, it isn’t,” Chad disagreed. “Don’t you remember the stores? More than half were the artsy fartsy stuff that people like you would love. And the views are amazing. People should be dying to build their weekend houses here.”
“Because we’re talking about Seattleites and they’re eco-conscious?”
“Dude, that just means they’ll build smaller mansions, but they’re gonna build something.” Chad opened his arms wide and said, “Seriously, look. None of the houses were built after Vietnam.
“Don’t you find that weird?”
Jared didn’t answer. The sheriff’s truck making its way to town hall had gotten all of his attention.
“You wanna go say hello?” Chad offered. “Maybe he knows the librarian or something.”
“Okay,” Jared said.
He was so focused on the meeting ahead that he didn’t catch Chad’s small but knowing look. They strolled up to town hall to find the damn library was housed in the building along with the sheriff’s office.
“Wow,” Chad said. “Now this is small town.”
Jared nodded in agreement and the two made their way to the back of the building after reading various handmade signs. Two young men in uniform noted their entrance but only one stood up from his desk.
“Hey, name’s Gabe,” the deputy said. “How can I help you?”
“Oh, I was wondering if it’s possible…”
Jared’s voice must have been loud because Jensen rushed out of his office.
“Good morning,” he said. “I heard you had breakfast at Sophia’s place instead of the inn.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chad said in disbelief. “Do you guys share a hive mind or something?”
Gabe grinned. “Nah, we all got cell phones.”
“And the magpies have been busy,” the second deputy drawled. “By the way, name’s Jake Abel. You two must be the guests H.J. was talking about.”
“I guess we’re the entertainment,” Chad said without rancor. “Boy, you folks must be bored if two out-of-towners get this much attention.”
“Pretty much,” Gabe agreed. “It’s not summer season yet and things are pretty quiet until the tourists arrive.”
“You need to talk to me?” Jensen asked.
“If you have the time?” Jared once again used the full force of his personality and his desperate circumstances. He was successful.
“Sure,” Jensen said and opened the door to his office. “Gabe?”
“Not a problem,” Gabe said as he fiddled with his phone. “Any important calls?”
“Not today,” Jensen said.
“Cool,” the deputy replied.
Jared and Chad swiftly entered Jensen’s office, but before either of them could speak, Jensen said:
“Chris wanted to apologize for his behavior earlier. He told me what happened and wanted you to know that if he were in your shoes, he would’ve been throwing punches.”
“Then it’s lucky for all of us he wasn’t,” Jared said, relaxing. Obviously the semi-confrontation with Jensen’s friend had different effect on Chris than on him. “By the way, can your friend cook? He ate like…”
“A starving lion,” Jensen said. “Yeah, he’s got metabolism issues so he doesn’t eat after five.”
Jared couldn’t fathom what medical problem could cause that but he wasn’t very interested either, truth be told. “We decided to drop by. We were on our way to the library.”
“I see,” Jensen said wryly. “Good luck with that. “Ms. Lenmore’s the head … the only librarian, actually, and she keeps her own schedule. If you know what I mean.”
Jared couldn’t stop himself from looking disappointed. “I see.”
Chad thumped him on his shoulder. “Whatever. She’s gotta…”
The door swung open without warning and Steve Carlson stepped in. “I heard from Chris you had guests who wanted to see me?”
Jensen laughed when he caught the flummoxed look on his guests’ faces.
“Man, this really is a small town,” Chad said, standing up. “Do we need to introduce ourselves?"
“No.” Steve shook their hands and grinned. “I also know Jared’s last name sure as hell ain’t Murray.”
“That reminds me,” Jensen interrupted hurriedly. “Be careful with Ms. Lenmore. Some of your books are in the library, Jared.”
Jared winced. “I was afraid of that.”
“Your stuff’s amazing,” Steve said with genuine admiration. “I can’t believe they put your books in the children’s section. I always think they belong in the arts or adult fiction.”
“Thank you,” Jared said with genuine warmth. “But I’m not at all insulted being identified as a children’s author. In fact, Sandy and I prefer it that way.”
“Chris said you had questions for me?” Steve sat down on a beaten armchair with such ease Jared instantly knew that was his usual seat.
“Do you know anything about a man named Hemley?” Jared asked. “Especially in connection with the artist Thomas Kindle?”
“A man - no, but that name’s definitely linked with Kindle.”
Steve’s reply drew a wide-eyed look from Jensen. “What? How?”
“Her name was Edith Hemley,” Steve answered. “She was Thomas Kindle’s wife.”
Jensen shook his head in wonder. “I never heard about her. Ever.”
“Not surprising,” Steve said and for the first time looked uncomfortable. “It’s not a happy story. They met when Kindle painted a portrait of her in Boston. She was a member of a Brahmin family but got disowned when she hooked up with Kindle. Anyway, she came with him over here and things were okay for a while.”
“Let me guess, he fooled around,” Chad said flatly.
“Worse, he gave her leprosy.”
Now it was Jared’s turn to gape at the storyteller. “Leprosy?!”
“Yeah, because there was a lot of shipping between here and China and Japan. Leprosy was a global disease back then and there was no cure.
“Anyway, Kindle kept company with some people who had it then passed it along to his wife and baby. Kindle felt so guilty he started up that hospice Ms. Lenmore is so fond of talking about, and built a private home for his family on the grounds.”
“I thought it was for TB,” Jensen said, “and pneumonia!”
“That’s what she wants people to think.” Steve’s voice turned sarcastic. “But the truth was it was the largest leprosy clinic in the Northwest at the turn of the century. When it burned down it had nearly two hundred patients.”
“Oh my God,” Jensen whispered when he realized the ramifications. “That’s why so few of them survived.”
“You guessed right,” Steve said. “Most of the patients were incapable of moving out of their rooms. Those who did couldn’t get very far and the smoke finished them. The truth is very few people from Alliance Bay came to help when the fire broke out: the prejudices against lepers were huge.”
“So the rest of the island just watched them burn?” Jared was horrified by the thought.
“No, some came, of course,” Steve corrected the man. “And they all died.”
“How?” Jared asked.
“The hospice had nothing they could use to put out the fire. And they were located at the other side of the island so any resource Alliance Bay had was completely useless.” Jensen explained.
“Exactly where was it located?” Jared was genuinely curious about the story.
“At the other edge of Black Woods,” Jensen said reluctantly.
“You mean Cascade Park, right?”
“What’s wrong?” Jared was curious as to why Chad’s question made both Jensen and Steve look uncomfortable.
“Technically Black Woods doesn’t exist, on the map at least,” Steve drawled out, his composure returning. “And that’s because it is part of the park, as you said.”
“But there is a difference?” Jared offered.
“The fire that burned down the hospice - it happened during the hottest summer on record. And the tract of Cascade Park that burned was renamed Black Woods because of the damage.”
“So it was renamed after the fire, not before.” Chad looked at Jensen then Steve. “Then why the weird looks?”
“Nothing grew back right,” Steve explained. “Nobody really knows why. We had the forestry department and various private institutions come by and study the place, and there are a lot of theories but nothing definitive.”
“Hemley and the child died in the fire?” Jared looked sad by the thought.
“Yeah, leprosy had its claws deep into them, including Kindle, when the fire hit. The hospice was the first to go, and then the flames just shot down south until it was licking at the edges of Alliance Bay. It burned down two cottages before it got under control.”
“How many townsfolk died?”
“Three total,” Steve replied. “Two brothers from the Beaver family got killed trying to put out the fire while it was still located at the hospice. Two out of three; the other was Pastor Jameson. He survived the fire but died of smoke inhalation. The poor bastard roasted his lungs trying to pull people out of a burning building.”
Chad grimaced as he mulled over the tragedy. “Let me guess, it’s haunted - right?”
Steve shrugged and gave a shy grin. “Something like that. Nobody local goes hunting there. People think there’s the world’s largest lodestone somewhere in the woods because nothing electronic works right, and compasses are about as useful as tits on a bull.
“Jensen here has to pull out at least one weekend warrior come Sunday morning when the hunting season starts.”
Jensen didn’t look too happy with the fact either. “I require them to sign out for hunting, and when they don’t check in at night, I go hunting myself the next day. Fortunately, they usually wander out in the morning, embarrassed and starving.”
“So no hunting there,” Steve added. “We tend to stick to the west side of the Park where the deer are plentiful because of the fresh water there.”
“Is there another reason?” Jared could almost guess the answer. “The deer population isn’t found in the Black Woods, are they?”
“Got it in one,” Steve said. “Again, it’s because everything's gone wrong there.”
“Is that why it’s haunted?”
“No, everyone here thinks the woods are haunted because of the Tommyknockers.”
Jared felt everything grey out for a minute, but he had enough control left to sit rigidly in his chair until the sensation passed.
“Tommyknockers?” Chad asked. “What the hell are those?”
“Little gnomes or spirits who help miners.” Steve’s smile grew broader.
“There was mining here?” Chad looked at Jared. “Mining - here?”
“The red stone your statue is carved out of,” Steve said. “It was discovered close to the hospice. The mining business, while it lasted, was a booming one. And the fact that the local artists used it only made it more valuable. Unfortunately, the veins ran out years before the fire.
“The island didn't suffer too much though. What happened was the miners were fishermen and vice versa. When one trade slowed down, the men drifted to the other profession and back and forth and so on, until the mines closed.”
“Then some of them became patients of the hospice,” Jensen guessed. “That must've been sad business all around.”
“The Tommyknockers?” Jared asked, grateful that his voice didn’t reveal his earlier near-fainting episode.
“The miners started the entire thing but the stories grew, especially after the fire,” Steve explained. “And unlike the old folktales, our Tommyknockers can leave the mines and bother people above-ground.”
“They are known to scare hunters,” Jensen said, smiling as he remembered the stories. “They also hassle hikers, campers, and boaters, even.”
“Boaters?” Jared was amazed by that particular fact. “How?”
“They were accused of setting boats adrift,” Steve said. “Messing with the anchors, even the navigation system.”
“Wow, this place’s just loaded with stories.” Chad looked entertained by what he was hearing.
“Anyway, there you have it,” Steve said. “Hemley was related to Kindle, though I can’t imagine how that could help you.”
“It does,” Jared said after a long pause. “Whoever took my son used the name Hemley, and the statue he gave me was one of Kindle’s work.”
Jensen stiffened in his chair. “Are you serious?”
Jared nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Motherfucker,” Steve hissed. “That means … that means…”
“The kidnapper is a local or has studied us real well,” Jensen stated, sitting forward. “Robbin isn’t exactly on the tourist map in spite of the artist colony.”
“And our history’s translated mainly through verbal tradition, not written,” Steve said. “So, only a handful of people know what I just told you.”
“That means the suspect pool just got tiny,” Chad whispered, looking at Jared with hope. “You son of bitch! You got it right!”
“But why Aiden?” Jared asked. “Why target my son?”
“Maybe the kidnapper was out to make a point with you. Or your ex-wife?”
Jared didn’t have the chance to answer Jensen’s question. The door suddenly opened and a grizzled man hobbled in. At once Jared knew this was the friend Jensen had talked about when they first met. The man was leaning heavily on a cane and still had the gaunt look of a recently-discharged invalid.
“Hi,” Jensen said in a neutral tone.
The man looked around the room, confused. “Gabe and Jake didn’t tell me you had company.”
“It’s fine, Jeff.” Jensen stood up. “What can I do you for?”
“The mailbox ninjas are back,” Jeff answered.
“Fuck me,” Steve hissed. “Did they get mine?”
“With a cherry bomb and a baseball bat,” Jeff said. “Got to give them some credit: the bastards are thorough.”
Jensen picked up his hat and stepped around his desk. “Sorry to cut this short but duty calls.”
“When you get Jason’s little brat, I want you to scare him and I mean really scare him," Steve said. "No more Mr. Nice Guy. That’s the fourth mailbox he broke this year and that’s just me alone.”
“I’ll talk to both parents, and then Ken.”
“You know who’s doing this?” Jared asked.
“Oh yeah,” Jeff answered. “Ken Chenosworth and his best friend Buster. Those two have been killing mailboxes since they were ten.”
“It’s the cherry bombs that give them away,” Jensen added. “Nobody in the entire island can get those except for Michelle - Ken’s mother. Her dad owns a fireworks outfit in West Virginia.”
“Go get’em sheriff,” Steve said, brushing his finger across an invisible hat perched on his head.
“Steve, will you answer any questions they’ve got?” Jensen asked.
“Be my pleasure,” Steve answered with a grin. “Not everyday I get to meet people who actually want to hear me talk!”
Jensen gave a tiny smile before walking out with Jeff.
Jared watched the two men, the familiarity they shared as Jensen automatically helped Jeff without being asked. And Jeff leaned into Jensen, obviously welcoming the man’s physical strength.
“They were once, if you’re curious,” Steve answered the unasked question.
“What happened?” Jared couldn’t stop himself. “They looked like they were pretty close.”
“A long time ago,” Steven said. “Apart, they’re great but when they’re together - it’s toxic shit. It took them years to wise up to that fact.”
“Sounds like there were some casualties,” Chad supplied.
“Only pride, sanity, and common sense,” Steve said. “The usual victims.”
“We should get going,” Jared said. “But could I contact you if I need to have some questions answered?”
Steve gave Jared a measured glance. “I still don’t know why you think a folk singer could help you find your son, but sure - if you think I can.”
“Thank you,” Jared said then took Steve’s business card.
“Be careful if you’re thinking about visiting Black Woods,” Steve cautioned them. “Jensen wasn’t kidding about people getting turned around there. Hell, I did twice, and I was born and raised here.”
“We will,” Jared said.
It was the unforgettable scent of sweet meat that made it rise from its bed of wet, sticky leaves. It sniffed the air then caught the drifting sense of fear and confusion.
Oh yes, food can be had tonight.
It slowly rose to its haunches as its companions also woke. They were careful though. Rumbling tummies meant nothing against the dangers of the hunt. But oh, that scent of promised redness and spread of heavy warmth was enough for the tribe to venture out.
Sweet meat and gristle to chew. With the cleansing of cold water and maybe a view of the sky untouched by darkness.
They lurched out of their haunt, baying at nothing. But knowing that whoever or whatever heard them would scatter into their hidey-holes and quiver in fear.
Yes! Yes! Yes! They howled at each other.
Meat tonight, and fear, too.
And they spread their wildness like a plague across the woods as they slithered through the trees and bushes. More joined as their brethren crawled out from trees and burrows hidden ever so cleverly from human eyes until three became a pack, with the wildest at the lead: spearing fear into every living creature with its howls and snarls.
Hunt today. Meat tonight.
Jared looked at the edge of the woods and noticed the clear demarcation that separated the park from the Black Woods. Chad wasn’t so observant.
“Okay,” he said as he looked around. “I can’t tell. Can you?”
Jared jerked a nod, his lips twisted in a grimace. “The plants in the Black Woods are lush.”
Chad looked at his friend. “And that’s bad … how?”
“I can’t really explain but it’s as if everything there fed on some kind of poison that actually helped them bloat up.”
“Really,” Chad said, his disbelief clear in his voice. He turned to examine the differences but found none.
“Listen,” Jared said, pointing upwards.
Chad did. Only then did he realize what his friend was talking about. “Oh, shit,” he said, his voice thin and strained. “Where are the birds?”
“I haven’t heard anything for the last fifteen minutes,” Jared said. “Back when we were in the Park, yeah - there was a ruckus, but not here. And I bet the silence is going to be completely oppressive if we go in there.”
“Let’s not, then.” Chad took a step backwards. “Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but why tempt fate?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Jared glanced at his watch. “The library should be open by now.”
“If Ms. Lenmore feels like it,” Chad added, grinning as he remembered the alleged proclivities of the librarian.
As it turned out, the place was open and was guarded by a woman who looked exactly like Ruth Gordon did in Rosemary’s Baby. In fact, her resemblance was so close that Jared had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Jared had to stop himself from stuttering out a ‘no’ and walking away. There was something in her voice that struck him as genteel yet malicious. He didn’t even have to look at Chad to know his friend was feeling the same thing.
“Yes, we wanted to read up on some of the history of the island,” Jared said politely but coolly.
“Of course,” Ms. Lenmore stood up then fastidiously smoothed down her crisp blouse and wool skirt. “There isn’t much, mind you. But I’m sure I can get you what you need.
“Is there a specific topic you’re interested in?”
“The artist colony?”
“I suspected as much,” Ms. Lenmore said with a little sniff. “This way.”
Both Jared and Chad expected couple of books, maybe some newspaper archives. What they got was more than a dozen books, all of them big enough to be used as a roadblock.
“If you need anything, just come by the front desk.”
Jared had enough sense to interpret that as disturb me with your deviant questions and I will shank you. when he heard the cutting tone in her voice.
“I doubt that,” Chad said with a broad smile. “Thank you so much for your help. This is just awesome!”
In the face of Chad's cheerful gratitude, Ms. Lenmore had no choice but to leave without dropping further hints.
Jared heard the woman’s heels clap against the floor in a staccato beat but refused to look up at her departure. Instead, he concentrated on the material laid out in front of him.
“I was under the impression there wasn’t going to be much at the library,” he said as he grabbed a tome and opened its dusty, moldy pages.
“When was the last time Steve came to this friggin’ place, you think?” Chad said as he opened the closest book to him. “Wow, this is going to be boring.”
Jared looked at Chad. “So, your college GPA was a fluke?”
“No, man,” Chad said, miffed. “I studied and I test well, so the 4.0 was honestly gotten, but history bores the hell out of me, you know?”
“Read the footnotes if you can’t stomach the text.” Jared pointed at the nearly-illegible print at the bottom of the pages. “They’re the best way to go.”
“Will do.”
After two solid hours the two men came to the conclusion that the readings were nothing but one glorified tourist claptrap written by people who were desperate for Robbin Island to get some recognition. However, that drive did not extend to the hospice. In fact, the Black Fire as it was called, was mentioned in quite a few works, but there were only two articles written about the hospice and what types of patients they accepted.
“I guess this is why most of the stuff Tuohy dug up was wrong,” Jared concluded. “There wasn’t much written about the sanatorium to begin with.”
“And that makes me really wonder what happened back then.” Chad carelessly flipped through a bound volume of Island Chronicles that served as the main paper for the entire San Juan Islands. “An entire hospital burns down, killing most of its patients and probably a lot of the staff, and nobody writes about it? Even back then sensationalism sold. And that kind of tragedy should’ve gotten front page if not in Seattle than at least here.
“But it didn’t, and do you know what that tells me?”
“What?” Jared was fascinated by how his friend’s mind worked.
“That somebody covered it up and did it successfully,” Chad concluded. “And that takes a lot of money, not to mention power. To keep something out of the news is almost impossible unless you’ve got friends in all the right places. It’s true now as it was back then.”
“And there couldn’t have been that many people who had had that kind of pull,” Jared added before digging through the books in front of him. “Hold on a minute - I read a list of what’s known as the ‘Pioneers’ of this island.”
“That sounds promising.”
Jared pulled out a thin pamphlet and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Take a look at this.”
Chad gave a cursory glance and said, “Okay, some of the names are familiar, Kindle being one.”
“Beaver being the other,” Jared said. “I think that’s got to be Jim Beaver's ancestors. He was the sheriff right before Jensen.”
Chad shook his head in mock admiration. “Wow, these islanders really do know how to keep the tradition going.”
“I’m going to make Xeroxes off of some books.” Jared stood up with an armful. “You want me to copy something?”
Chad shook his head and went back to reading a dainty book that looked incongruous in his large hands.
Jared had to get the exact change from Ms. Lenmore in order to make copies and noted that she was in a much more amiable mood. He suspected she called around and somebody finally told her the reason for their presence in her library.
Jared noted with some dark glee that while Jensen and his friends shared their info at such speed that they were fully prepared when Jared showed up, Lenmore had to hunt down hers.
Nobody likes that old biddy, Jared concluded. Have to wonder what she did or didn’t do to earn that kind of hostility.
After all, gossip was worth its weight in gold, especially in small towns like Alliance Bay and nobody bothered to share the wealth with the librarian. That told Jared plenty about what the good people of Robbin Island thought about their neighbor.
As the copy machine hummed its ancient tune, Jared’s attention wandered. He noticed a corkboard to his right and looked closer. There was a replica of the map of the island from 1944, obviously filched from the War Department. The going price for a copy was two dollars. Jared leaned closer to read the one offered on the board.
The copier’s incessant droning faded away. Though there were no markers pointing to where the sanatorium once stood, he could place it in the general vicinity from what he’d heard. However, what was interesting was the name of the beach closest to the sanatorium: Kindle Bay.
It was then Jared knew, as bizarre as the idea was, that everything that had happened to was somehow tied to Kindle and the sanatorium. That, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, his entire family was being punished for the artist who died nearly a century ago. A man who, by all accounts, was both a gifted artist and a boor directly responsible for the death of his wife and child.
Jesus Christ, Jared thought as a horrid suspicion bloomed. Does someone think I’m like Kindle? Did the bastard who took Aiden believe I’m somehow connected to the asshole? Is that why what’s happening to me so fucking similar to what had happened to that man, and his family?!
Jared could barely force himself to accept the idea, for in that story, both Kindle’s wife and child burned to death. He tucked in two dollars into the collection jar and took a copy of the map. He then waited impatiently for the copier to finish before rushing back to find Chad looking even more bored than before.
“We have to go,” Jared said.
“Go where?”
“To the mines.”
“Okay, that’s about the most random thing you’ve said so far, and that’s saying something.”
“I’ll show you.”
Jared unfolded the map and pointed to the sanatorium, the beach, all located right in or next to the Black Woods.
“Fuck me,” Chad said. “Jared, I gotta tell you, we have got to get some help if you want to go there. We don’t have the expertise to go hopping into mines that could collapse behind us any minute.”
Jared couldn’t argue with his friend. “You’re right. Let me see if Jensen’s available.”
“If you could get him to go, I’ll be more than happy to come along.”
“Done.”
Jensen idly spun a pen on his desk. To anyone unfamiliar with the man, it would look as if he was bored. However, to the few who could claim to know him well, it was obvious Jensen was deeply engrossed in whatever was occupying his thoughts.
With a frustrated sigh, Jensen stood up from his armchair and stretched his back. He could imagine what Jared and Chad were doing now.
Exactly what he and Steve told them not to do: explore the Black Woods.
He also knew his fears about the place weren’t unfounded. The people who managed to wander out after being missing for more than two days were more than just discombobulated. Many of them also suffered from amnesia, and worse. Worse being mental trauma of unknown origin. Grown men and women had regressed to early childhood. Their thinking process so badly damaged that they couldn’t dress themselves, and some ended up in adult diapers because they didn’t know how to use the toilet properly. The condition eventually disappeared and the patients recovered with no memory of their bizarre medical problems.
But Jensen did. He’d seen the recordings of their day-to-day struggles and the evidence shocked him. So, he dug deeper and discovered something else even more frightening: the ones who never returned.
The number of missing weren’t high, so the press never got wind of it. However, the locals knew. Even Steve could recollect two people who had disappeared in or near the Woods. One had been a childhood friend, and her disappearance prompted the most thorough search in the island. What was even more disturbing was the fact they were all without exception children.
Some of them could be old enough to be considered runaways, but Jensen couldn’t fathom three-year-old Anna Stiles planning to escape to L.A. for a shot at becoming a Hollywood star.
And, again, all were tied to those damn woods - where he had an experience that could be categorized as … spooky.
Jensen smirked and shook his head, but he was open-minded enough to accept the fact he might just have had a brush with the supernatural when he managed to get lost in the Black Woods. However, what he’d felt wasn’t some malicious entity bent on shredding his guts. Instead, it … whatever it was felt sad and abandoned - like he did once when he lost sight of his mother at the Neiman Marcus store in Dallas when he was only seven. At first, it was a feeling of airiness, as if he was suddenly transformed into something insubstantial like a soft breeze. Then came panic, fear, and hostility towards his mother for letting him get lost.
That didn’t last a breath when he finally caught sight of his mother, her face ashen, her movements frantic and uncoordinated as she looked for her son.
Somehow and Jensen still couldn’t figure out how - he managed to find his way out of the foul trees and their oozing branches. He suspected it was because he’d gotten lost during daylight.
That was a year after he moved to the island. And he’d often wondered what would happen should he once again tramp through those dark woods with their lush growth that seemed corrupted somehow. And the silence: that deathly, condemning silence encasing him like a coffin.
Jensen heard some bustling outside his door and heard Jared’s voice. He knew then he’d soon find out.
“Thank you for all your help,” Jared said, half-jogging after Jensen. In spite of his longer gait, the sheriff had quicker tempo and outstripped him in moments.
“Don’t thank me until we’re back in town,” Jensen said curtly.
“Why did you leave Chris behind?” Jared asked. “I thought he would be a better guide for the woods.”
Jensen stopped and turned to Jared. “And that’s exactly why I decided to leave him behind. Because if we get lost, we’re going to need the best tracker to find us and get us out.”
“Oh.” Jared had to admit the idea had merit.
“And Steve’s got a working boat,” Jensen said with a sheepish grin. “He can take us around the island and use the sanatorium’s abandoned dock. That way we can avoid cutting through the Black Woods.”
“Damn good plan.”
The two men walked to the waterfront and found the dock where Steve’s boat was moored. Jared stopped when he saw his transport.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath.
“It floats - and better - it moves,” Jensen said. He then waved to Steve who popped up out of the wheelhouse. “It’s his home, too, in case you’re going to critique it.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Jared said, grateful for the gentle chastisement.
Steve stepped on the plank in order to stabilize it when Jared stepped on it. “Take it easy,” Steve said. “Six steps are all you need.”
“I know,” Jared replied weakly. He didn’t look down and instead concentrated in Jensen who was waiting for him. In spite of all that had had happened, Jared didn’t want to look like an incompetent idiot in front of the most self-sufficient man he’d ever met.
Jensen didn’t say anything as he extended a strong hand and helped Jared the last step onto the tugboat. Jared flushed in embarrassment but kept quiet.
“I think that’s your friend with provisions,” Steve said, pointing to Chad hurrying down the dock with a two heavy grocery bags.
“Jesus, I told him to buy enough food for just one night,” Jared said, watching two shopping bags swing dangerous arcs besides Chad.
“He’s just being cautious,” Steve said. He then looked at Jensen with a smirk. “I guess you told him about the condition of my fridge?”
“What condition?” Jensen said. “In order for something to have a condition, it has to exist first. And you don’t have a fridge: you have a cooler.”
“It’s got beer.” was Steve’s cool reply.
“And I’m grateful for that,” Jensen said. “But my point stands.”
Chad took the gangway with nimble steps. “Sorry I was late. I basically cleaned out the store’s pasta section.”
Steve’s lips twitched in a smile. “You know, in order to eat pasta you have to actually boil it.”
Chad looked at Steve. “Dude, tell me you got a hot plate.”
“Yeah, is that enough?”
“Chad made pasta using electric kettles,” Jared explained. “The stuff wasn’t half bad either.”
“Ramen too!” Chad added. "And I'm talking about the good stuff, not the MSG shit."
“Okay, then. I guess we’re set. Find a seat,” Steve said as he passed out lifejackets.
Chad and Jensen opted to join Steve in the wheelhouse while Jared stayed outside. He didn’t want his companions to see how unstable he was. The sprays of seawater slapping his face should’ve been refreshing, but all he felt was cold nausea roiling not only in his stomach but also in his mind.
Chad stuck his head out and shouted, “Yo, it’s your brother. You wanna talk to him?”
Jared managed to pull himself out of his bleak daydreams and took Chad’s cell. “Hey.”
“Sandy told me what you were doing,” Jeff said in a remarkably calm voice. “I was wondering if you’d lost your mind, and then I remembered it would be an act of kindness if you did.
“So where the fuck are you?”
“On Robbin Island, chasing down a lead.”
“Why the fuck did you go back there?”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean back?” Jared managed to croak out.
“I think you just turned six, so maybe you were too young to remember,” Jeff said. “Dad took us boating around the San Juan Islands. You had an accident right off Robbin and fell off the boat. We found you two days later, on a beach nearby.
“You had to spend an entire week in a hospital. I can’t remember why but it was pretty bad.”
“Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?”
“Well, I got into shit-deep trouble is what I remember the most,” Jeff admitted.
“What did you do?”
“Not did, said,” Jeff corrected. “You were delirious when we found you, and were muttering all sorts of wild things. One of the words you mentioned was Tommyknockers.”
“Tommyknockers?” Jared echoed. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, and I was so curious I decided to find out what it was.” Jeff sounded genuinely contrite. “Anyway, I made up a poem about them and teased you. Mind you I did it just once.
“You completely freaked out and had to be hospitalized again. Mom and dad were livid and I was banned from playing sports for the following school year. All I could do was go to class then come home. And that was it.”
“What happened to me?”
“You recovered in couple of weeks, but it was scary to see you in that state. I really was sorry for what I said.”
Jared could tell his brother was still regretting his childish prank. “Well, I don’t remember any of that so don’t worry about it.”
“Jared, why are you back there, exactly?”
“Like I said, I discovered something about a person who took Aiden, and the information led me here.”
“If that island is what it was back then, good luck. It was bush league save for the sheriff.”
“Beaver, right?”
“Yeah, the guy was a total dick but he knew his stuff. He did a very thorough job combing the entire area surrounding the bay where we docked the boat.”
“Do you remember where it was?”
“It was called Kindle Bay. From what I remember there were some ruins nearby.”
“Did you go there?” Jared’s voice sounded far away to him and he wondered if he would be able to hear Jeff’s answer.
“Yeah, but only the beach. We were looking for you all over the water but when we couldn’t find you, dad navigated the boat right into town … I forgot its name and contacted the sheriff.
“Beaver took over from there.”
“Where did you find me, exactly?”
“It wasn’t us,” Jeff answered. “It was an old seadog. He told us he found you on the beach, which was strange because we were pretty damn thorough in our search.
“Mom thought you might have washed ashore earlier then wandered off before coming back. The truth was we were too glad to see you alive so we never questioned the guy who found you.”
“Do you remember the man’s name?”
“Sam Coates,” Jeff answered readily. “He died couple of years back.”
“How do you know?”
“Dad told me. I think he kept in touch with Beaver after everything settled. Don’t ask me why: I can’t possibly imagine two men more different than dad and that grizzly bear of a sheriff, but there you have it.”
"If you could get dad to call me on Chad's cell, I'd appreciate it."
"Is there a reason why he can't call you on yours?"
Jared slowly explained what had happened with Tuohy, not out of fear that Jeff would misunderstand, but because he would blow a gasket. Jeff didn't and ended the call with a promise to reach dad and make him call Jared ASAP.
The cell hung loosely in his grasp as Jared watched the cliffs looming to his left turn into steep hills. Then, a decrepit dock came to view and for a moment Jared wanted to throw himself off the boat and swim out towards the sea.
Since he stepped foot on Robbin Island, Jared had been able to repress his feelings of unease, blaming it on Aiden's disappearance.
Now, he knew better. Jared could feel his memories scratching their way free. Their thin, sallow fingers ending in claws dipped in poisonous truths, slowly but assuredly breaking through the many walls Jared had built over the years. But what was even worse was that his fear was lurking right outside, ready to dine on the memories' putrid meat. And then, when its belly was full, gather the strength necessary to take him down, rendering him useless.
Part III * Part V
Pairing: ja/jp, former ja/jdm
Rating: R for language and violence
Warning: Genuine horror here. I hope.
Word Count: ~51k
Summary: Aiden Thomas Padalecki is violently and mysteriously kidnapped, leaving behind distraught parents who have no idea why their only child was taken. After months of futile investigation, the frantic father witnesses the slow but inevitable decline in the search of his only child. Half mad with grief, Jared goes to an island off the coast of Washington, holding the last clue that may help him find his son. But it is all a trap, and there’s someone crouching, waiting for him to pay back for sins not of his making.
Notes: Adapted from Peter Pan, written for j2_everafter.
Disclaimer: 127.5% fiction.
Jared studied the chintzy duvet Laura Ashley threw up, then Chad who was already on his side of the king bed, looking comfortable and ready to sleep. “Why in fuck did you not get two beds?”
“Because I thought we had to convince the locals that we’re from Hollywood. So…”
Jared collapsed onto his side of the bed and buried his face in his hands.
“Hey!” Chad squawked in outrage, “A lot of women would kill to be where you are! And I know at least a dozen men who’d be just as happy whether I was interested or not.”
“I feel honored, really, but you kick in your sleep.”
“How in hell do you know that?”
“We shared a bed when we went to Las Vegas, remember?”
Chad’s eyes narrowed even further. “Oh wow, I forgot all about that!”
“That’s because you were drunk or hung over for the entire friggin’ weekend.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who jumped on stage and started stripping!”
Jared reddened when he remembered that particular incident. And the forty-two year old yacht salesman he’d almost gone to bed with if Chad hadn’t stepped in. Even drunk, his friend still possessed more sense than Jared who was an easy date in spite of his size.
“So, about that Ackles dude. Is he going to give us any trouble?”
Jared laid down on the bed and examined the ceiling with studious care.
“I take it there was something between you two.” Chad eyed his friend with great curiosity. “But you weren't lying to me when you said you didn’t fuck him, right?”
Jared pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “No, Chad, I didn’t lie.”
“Good, because that would be awkward, and maybe dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Dangerous if he decides he’s not going to do us any favors. I don’t know why he agreed to look the other way, but if he changes his mind then he could really do a number on us.”
Jared looked at Chad. “Exactly what are you planning to do? Break into the local museum and steal their harpoon collection from the island’s whaling days?”
Chad looked at Jared with wide, excited eyes. “That would be great.”
“We’re not here…”
“I was kidding, you numbnut.” Chad sat up and took off his boots. He threw them on the floor and then leaned back into the nest of pillows he’d created against the headboard.
“Look, I don’t know what’s up between you and the pretty boy sheriff, but don’t let it get in the way with why we’re really here, okay?
“If you have to play nice with the man, do it. Seriously, if all it takes is sweet talk to get the sheriff on our side, then hey, use that Texas charm of yours until your tongue falls off.”
“Only if you shut up,” Jared groused. “Jesus, I’m so tired.”
“You look like something Death would reject,” Chad said. “Get some rest. We’ve got an island to explore tomorrow.”
Jared didn’t bother to get up to take a shower or brush his teeth. He rolled over and turned off his bedside lamp while Chad did the same. His subconscious was merciful that night, and Jared dreamt of his son just once. He watched Aiden run through the woods, cavorting like a wild animal. He even acted like one when he heard his father calling for him: heading right into the dark woods the moment he realized that a person caught sight of him.
Jared woke himself up by crying out for his son.
Henrietta’s curious glances drove both Chad and Jared out of inn before they even had a chance to order breakfast.
“There better be a Starbucks,” Chad groused as he examined the streets branching out in front of the inn.
Jared saw nothing but closed buildings and drunks slowly waking up to sunrise. “I’m thinking not.”
“Fuck me,” Chad stated flatly. “We’re finding coffee somewhere, dude.”
Jared went north, into the heart of Alliance Bay. His long gait took them into the main street within minutes. Chad looked around, the eagerness on his face growing as he realized the buildings were much cleaner and the few people wandering about sober and showered.
“Wow,” Jared said when he noticed the storefronts and the fact that good half of them were related to artwork. He then spotted the town hall which stood out with its practical brick façade and metal doors.
Chad noticed the same thing. “It’s too early for anything to be open.”
“Save for a coffee shop?” Jared supplied.
“Yeah,” Chad said. “By the way, here’s a picture of Steve Carlson.”
Jared took Chad’s iTouch and stared at the tiny screen. “They let him navigate a ferry? I’d be scared to give him a tricycle.”
“He’s also a singer. From what I gathered he’s popular around the islands.”
“That makes it worse, actually.”
“You’re welcome,” Chad said. “Let’s fine some caffeine for God’s sake.”
They passed three stores before they found a diner that looked clean enough to pass the last health inspection. Jared had just enough appetite for coffee, but as soon as they entered the place his stomach started protesting its current condition. Chad chuckled when he heard the noise but said nothing.
“Come to the counter,” the waitress said. “Service is going to be faster!”
The two men climbed on the stools and looked at the cheerful woman filling the sugar bowls. “Name’s Sophia,” the used-to-be peroxide blonde said. “What you need besides coffee?”
“Stack of pancakes,” Jared said.
“I’ll have some hash browns with toast,” Chad added, ogling at the pretty woman in spite of the bizarre dual-colored hairstyle she had going.
“Be in three,” Sophia shouted over her left shoulder as leaned over the order window and passed on their choices to the cook who gave them a bored glance before firing up the grill.
“So, what brings you two here?” Sophia asked.
“You mean you really have no idea?” Chad teased. Sophia blushed and gave a small shrug.
Jared relaxed. Chad was in his element and that meant he didn’t have to do anything save not to look like a drooling idiot or an axe murderer.
The pancakes were hot and the syrup was the real stuff, but Jared was forced to wash down each bite with coffee as he remembered how much Aiden loved to drown his pancakes with syrup, butter, and strawberries whenever they were in season.
“Oh hey, Chris!”
“Heya!” The reply was peppered with such a distinct accent that Jared turned to look at the newcomer. At first glance the man looked like Steve Carlson’s brother.
“You must be the California boys,” Chris said. “Jensen told me about you guys earlier.”
Jared paled a little and Chris must have seen it because his grin suddenly revealed more teeth. In fact, Jared had never seen a smile that looked more like a threat. And to make the situation even more precarious, he took the stool next to Jared without invitation.
“I heard you’re looking for places to shoot a movie?” Chris asked, his voice dangerously close to mocking.
“Behave!” Sophia warned her friend. “Don’t mind him: he hasn’t been fed.”
Chris winked at her. “You know how to fix that, right?”
“One heart attack, coming right up!”
Chris turned to Jared and said, “So, seen anything interesting yet?”
“Drunks down by the water,” Chad answered without hesitation. “You might want to get on that before the tourists arrive.”
“Talk to Jensen,” Chris shot back. “That’s his job.”
Jared gave a quelling glance at Chad who went back to flirting with Sophia.
“So, do you know Steve?” Jared asked, hoping Jensen had told Chris about that part of their conversation.
“Yep,” Chris said. “He’s sleeping now.”
“Are you his boyfriend?”
Chris laughed and shook his head. “Nope, but I know his schedule. He had three-two tradeoff: three days of work, two days off. Yesterday was his third day.”
“When will he be willing to talk to us?” Jared couldn’t stop himself from looking hopeful. And it had the nice effect of making Chris a bit more amiable - in conversing at least.
“Not until ten,” Chris answered. “The job’s exhausting for him.”
“Thanks,” Jared answered. “Will he be at home?”
“No,” Chris said. “You’ll probably catch him when he does his walkabout.”
“Walkabout?”
“Yep,” Chris said with a grin. “The man’s got a hankering for walking. And not just for exercise either. He nails down ten to twelve miles whenever he gets in the mood.”
“Is that why he’s so familiar with the island?”
“Jensen told you about Steve’s little hobby?”
“Only that he has a good deal of knowledge about the history of the island.”
Chris nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s right.” He gave a quizzical look at Jared. “How could that possibly help you?”
“We have to tread carefully here, so it stands to reason to know the entire back-story of the place.”
“Sounds reasonable, I guess,” Chris said. “By the way, Jensen was curious: did you bring the Kindle statue?”
“Yes,” Jared answered quickly. “And I plan to hand it over as soon as I can.”
Jared immediately regretted his words: it sounded as if he were holding the artwork as ransom, in trade for Jensen’s cooperation. Chris’ smile returned to is cynical phase but the man said nothing. Instead, he waited silently for Sophia to slide his plate in front of him. With a “thank you, darling,” he began digging into his breakfast with such gusto, Jared wondered when was the last time the man ate.
Chad paid for their breakfast and the two left as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to their hasty exit. Jared knew Chris and Sophia would start gossiping the moment they stepped outside, and he hoped that Chris possessed the same level of discretion Jensen did.
They systematically examined the streets but couldn’t locate the library. Then Chad pointed out to a small park whose western side was cupped in by high hills. Morning joggers ignored them as they climbed to the highest point in the park.
“Wow,” Chad said when he noticed the town laid out below them. “That’s nice.”
“Perfect for summer people,” Jared added. He then pointed to a lone mansion isolated from the rest of Alliance Bay, almost completely surrounded by woods. “Look at that.”
“Okay, that’s pretty freaksome,” Chad said, studying the house. “I’m guessing that’s not summer people ‘cause it would give any sane person the screaming meemies.”
“Someone must live there,” Jared reasoned. “The second floor is lit.”
“Wanna go and say hello?” Chad said. “Bet they’ve got lots of juicy stuff about the island.”
Jared knew his friend’s reasoning was solid, but he couldn’t muster up enough courage to agree with Chad. Instead, he pulled out a map and noted the landmarks. It was only then Jared noticed how large Cascade State Park was. It took almost seventy percent of the island and its shoreline. Save for Alliance Bay, there was almost no easy beach access.
“You gotta wonder,” Chad mused.
“Wonder about what?”
“Why there isn’t any development,” Chad answered. “I mean - look, this is prime real estate and I don’t see any new housing.”
“First off, this is a fishing town.”
“No, it isn’t,” Chad disagreed. “Don’t you remember the stores? More than half were the artsy fartsy stuff that people like you would love. And the views are amazing. People should be dying to build their weekend houses here.”
“Because we’re talking about Seattleites and they’re eco-conscious?”
“Dude, that just means they’ll build smaller mansions, but they’re gonna build something.” Chad opened his arms wide and said, “Seriously, look. None of the houses were built after Vietnam.
“Don’t you find that weird?”
Jared didn’t answer. The sheriff’s truck making its way to town hall had gotten all of his attention.
“You wanna go say hello?” Chad offered. “Maybe he knows the librarian or something.”
“Okay,” Jared said.
He was so focused on the meeting ahead that he didn’t catch Chad’s small but knowing look. They strolled up to town hall to find the damn library was housed in the building along with the sheriff’s office.
“Wow,” Chad said. “Now this is small town.”
Jared nodded in agreement and the two made their way to the back of the building after reading various handmade signs. Two young men in uniform noted their entrance but only one stood up from his desk.
“Hey, name’s Gabe,” the deputy said. “How can I help you?”
“Oh, I was wondering if it’s possible…”
Jared’s voice must have been loud because Jensen rushed out of his office.
“Good morning,” he said. “I heard you had breakfast at Sophia’s place instead of the inn.”
“Jesus Christ,” Chad said in disbelief. “Do you guys share a hive mind or something?”
Gabe grinned. “Nah, we all got cell phones.”
“And the magpies have been busy,” the second deputy drawled. “By the way, name’s Jake Abel. You two must be the guests H.J. was talking about.”
“I guess we’re the entertainment,” Chad said without rancor. “Boy, you folks must be bored if two out-of-towners get this much attention.”
“Pretty much,” Gabe agreed. “It’s not summer season yet and things are pretty quiet until the tourists arrive.”
“You need to talk to me?” Jensen asked.
“If you have the time?” Jared once again used the full force of his personality and his desperate circumstances. He was successful.
“Sure,” Jensen said and opened the door to his office. “Gabe?”
“Not a problem,” Gabe said as he fiddled with his phone. “Any important calls?”
“Not today,” Jensen said.
“Cool,” the deputy replied.
Jared and Chad swiftly entered Jensen’s office, but before either of them could speak, Jensen said:
“Chris wanted to apologize for his behavior earlier. He told me what happened and wanted you to know that if he were in your shoes, he would’ve been throwing punches.”
“Then it’s lucky for all of us he wasn’t,” Jared said, relaxing. Obviously the semi-confrontation with Jensen’s friend had different effect on Chris than on him. “By the way, can your friend cook? He ate like…”
“A starving lion,” Jensen said. “Yeah, he’s got metabolism issues so he doesn’t eat after five.”
Jared couldn’t fathom what medical problem could cause that but he wasn’t very interested either, truth be told. “We decided to drop by. We were on our way to the library.”
“I see,” Jensen said wryly. “Good luck with that. “Ms. Lenmore’s the head … the only librarian, actually, and she keeps her own schedule. If you know what I mean.”
Jared couldn’t stop himself from looking disappointed. “I see.”
Chad thumped him on his shoulder. “Whatever. She’s gotta…”
The door swung open without warning and Steve Carlson stepped in. “I heard from Chris you had guests who wanted to see me?”
Jensen laughed when he caught the flummoxed look on his guests’ faces.
“Man, this really is a small town,” Chad said, standing up. “Do we need to introduce ourselves?"
“No.” Steve shook their hands and grinned. “I also know Jared’s last name sure as hell ain’t Murray.”
“That reminds me,” Jensen interrupted hurriedly. “Be careful with Ms. Lenmore. Some of your books are in the library, Jared.”
Jared winced. “I was afraid of that.”
“Your stuff’s amazing,” Steve said with genuine admiration. “I can’t believe they put your books in the children’s section. I always think they belong in the arts or adult fiction.”
“Thank you,” Jared said with genuine warmth. “But I’m not at all insulted being identified as a children’s author. In fact, Sandy and I prefer it that way.”
“Chris said you had questions for me?” Steve sat down on a beaten armchair with such ease Jared instantly knew that was his usual seat.
“Do you know anything about a man named Hemley?” Jared asked. “Especially in connection with the artist Thomas Kindle?”
“A man - no, but that name’s definitely linked with Kindle.”
Steve’s reply drew a wide-eyed look from Jensen. “What? How?”
“Her name was Edith Hemley,” Steve answered. “She was Thomas Kindle’s wife.”
Jensen shook his head in wonder. “I never heard about her. Ever.”
“Not surprising,” Steve said and for the first time looked uncomfortable. “It’s not a happy story. They met when Kindle painted a portrait of her in Boston. She was a member of a Brahmin family but got disowned when she hooked up with Kindle. Anyway, she came with him over here and things were okay for a while.”
“Let me guess, he fooled around,” Chad said flatly.
“Worse, he gave her leprosy.”
Now it was Jared’s turn to gape at the storyteller. “Leprosy?!”
“Yeah, because there was a lot of shipping between here and China and Japan. Leprosy was a global disease back then and there was no cure.
“Anyway, Kindle kept company with some people who had it then passed it along to his wife and baby. Kindle felt so guilty he started up that hospice Ms. Lenmore is so fond of talking about, and built a private home for his family on the grounds.”
“I thought it was for TB,” Jensen said, “and pneumonia!”
“That’s what she wants people to think.” Steve’s voice turned sarcastic. “But the truth was it was the largest leprosy clinic in the Northwest at the turn of the century. When it burned down it had nearly two hundred patients.”
“Oh my God,” Jensen whispered when he realized the ramifications. “That’s why so few of them survived.”
“You guessed right,” Steve said. “Most of the patients were incapable of moving out of their rooms. Those who did couldn’t get very far and the smoke finished them. The truth is very few people from Alliance Bay came to help when the fire broke out: the prejudices against lepers were huge.”
“So the rest of the island just watched them burn?” Jared was horrified by the thought.
“No, some came, of course,” Steve corrected the man. “And they all died.”
“How?” Jared asked.
“The hospice had nothing they could use to put out the fire. And they were located at the other side of the island so any resource Alliance Bay had was completely useless.” Jensen explained.
“Exactly where was it located?” Jared was genuinely curious about the story.
“At the other edge of Black Woods,” Jensen said reluctantly.
“You mean Cascade Park, right?”
“What’s wrong?” Jared was curious as to why Chad’s question made both Jensen and Steve look uncomfortable.
“Technically Black Woods doesn’t exist, on the map at least,” Steve drawled out, his composure returning. “And that’s because it is part of the park, as you said.”
“But there is a difference?” Jared offered.
“The fire that burned down the hospice - it happened during the hottest summer on record. And the tract of Cascade Park that burned was renamed Black Woods because of the damage.”
“So it was renamed after the fire, not before.” Chad looked at Jensen then Steve. “Then why the weird looks?”
“Nothing grew back right,” Steve explained. “Nobody really knows why. We had the forestry department and various private institutions come by and study the place, and there are a lot of theories but nothing definitive.”
“Hemley and the child died in the fire?” Jared looked sad by the thought.
“Yeah, leprosy had its claws deep into them, including Kindle, when the fire hit. The hospice was the first to go, and then the flames just shot down south until it was licking at the edges of Alliance Bay. It burned down two cottages before it got under control.”
“How many townsfolk died?”
“Three total,” Steve replied. “Two brothers from the Beaver family got killed trying to put out the fire while it was still located at the hospice. Two out of three; the other was Pastor Jameson. He survived the fire but died of smoke inhalation. The poor bastard roasted his lungs trying to pull people out of a burning building.”
Chad grimaced as he mulled over the tragedy. “Let me guess, it’s haunted - right?”
Steve shrugged and gave a shy grin. “Something like that. Nobody local goes hunting there. People think there’s the world’s largest lodestone somewhere in the woods because nothing electronic works right, and compasses are about as useful as tits on a bull.
“Jensen here has to pull out at least one weekend warrior come Sunday morning when the hunting season starts.”
Jensen didn’t look too happy with the fact either. “I require them to sign out for hunting, and when they don’t check in at night, I go hunting myself the next day. Fortunately, they usually wander out in the morning, embarrassed and starving.”
“So no hunting there,” Steve added. “We tend to stick to the west side of the Park where the deer are plentiful because of the fresh water there.”
“Is there another reason?” Jared could almost guess the answer. “The deer population isn’t found in the Black Woods, are they?”
“Got it in one,” Steve said. “Again, it’s because everything's gone wrong there.”
“Is that why it’s haunted?”
“No, everyone here thinks the woods are haunted because of the Tommyknockers.”
Jared felt everything grey out for a minute, but he had enough control left to sit rigidly in his chair until the sensation passed.
“Tommyknockers?” Chad asked. “What the hell are those?”
“Little gnomes or spirits who help miners.” Steve’s smile grew broader.
“There was mining here?” Chad looked at Jared. “Mining - here?”
“The red stone your statue is carved out of,” Steve said. “It was discovered close to the hospice. The mining business, while it lasted, was a booming one. And the fact that the local artists used it only made it more valuable. Unfortunately, the veins ran out years before the fire.
“The island didn't suffer too much though. What happened was the miners were fishermen and vice versa. When one trade slowed down, the men drifted to the other profession and back and forth and so on, until the mines closed.”
“Then some of them became patients of the hospice,” Jensen guessed. “That must've been sad business all around.”
“The Tommyknockers?” Jared asked, grateful that his voice didn’t reveal his earlier near-fainting episode.
“The miners started the entire thing but the stories grew, especially after the fire,” Steve explained. “And unlike the old folktales, our Tommyknockers can leave the mines and bother people above-ground.”
“They are known to scare hunters,” Jensen said, smiling as he remembered the stories. “They also hassle hikers, campers, and boaters, even.”
“Boaters?” Jared was amazed by that particular fact. “How?”
“They were accused of setting boats adrift,” Steve said. “Messing with the anchors, even the navigation system.”
“Wow, this place’s just loaded with stories.” Chad looked entertained by what he was hearing.
“Anyway, there you have it,” Steve said. “Hemley was related to Kindle, though I can’t imagine how that could help you.”
“It does,” Jared said after a long pause. “Whoever took my son used the name Hemley, and the statue he gave me was one of Kindle’s work.”
Jensen stiffened in his chair. “Are you serious?”
Jared nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Motherfucker,” Steve hissed. “That means … that means…”
“The kidnapper is a local or has studied us real well,” Jensen stated, sitting forward. “Robbin isn’t exactly on the tourist map in spite of the artist colony.”
“And our history’s translated mainly through verbal tradition, not written,” Steve said. “So, only a handful of people know what I just told you.”
“That means the suspect pool just got tiny,” Chad whispered, looking at Jared with hope. “You son of bitch! You got it right!”
“But why Aiden?” Jared asked. “Why target my son?”
“Maybe the kidnapper was out to make a point with you. Or your ex-wife?”
Jared didn’t have the chance to answer Jensen’s question. The door suddenly opened and a grizzled man hobbled in. At once Jared knew this was the friend Jensen had talked about when they first met. The man was leaning heavily on a cane and still had the gaunt look of a recently-discharged invalid.
“Hi,” Jensen said in a neutral tone.
The man looked around the room, confused. “Gabe and Jake didn’t tell me you had company.”
“It’s fine, Jeff.” Jensen stood up. “What can I do you for?”
“The mailbox ninjas are back,” Jeff answered.
“Fuck me,” Steve hissed. “Did they get mine?”
“With a cherry bomb and a baseball bat,” Jeff said. “Got to give them some credit: the bastards are thorough.”
Jensen picked up his hat and stepped around his desk. “Sorry to cut this short but duty calls.”
“When you get Jason’s little brat, I want you to scare him and I mean really scare him," Steve said. "No more Mr. Nice Guy. That’s the fourth mailbox he broke this year and that’s just me alone.”
“I’ll talk to both parents, and then Ken.”
“You know who’s doing this?” Jared asked.
“Oh yeah,” Jeff answered. “Ken Chenosworth and his best friend Buster. Those two have been killing mailboxes since they were ten.”
“It’s the cherry bombs that give them away,” Jensen added. “Nobody in the entire island can get those except for Michelle - Ken’s mother. Her dad owns a fireworks outfit in West Virginia.”
“Go get’em sheriff,” Steve said, brushing his finger across an invisible hat perched on his head.
“Steve, will you answer any questions they’ve got?” Jensen asked.
“Be my pleasure,” Steve answered with a grin. “Not everyday I get to meet people who actually want to hear me talk!”
Jensen gave a tiny smile before walking out with Jeff.
Jared watched the two men, the familiarity they shared as Jensen automatically helped Jeff without being asked. And Jeff leaned into Jensen, obviously welcoming the man’s physical strength.
“They were once, if you’re curious,” Steve answered the unasked question.
“What happened?” Jared couldn’t stop himself. “They looked like they were pretty close.”
“A long time ago,” Steven said. “Apart, they’re great but when they’re together - it’s toxic shit. It took them years to wise up to that fact.”
“Sounds like there were some casualties,” Chad supplied.
“Only pride, sanity, and common sense,” Steve said. “The usual victims.”
“We should get going,” Jared said. “But could I contact you if I need to have some questions answered?”
Steve gave Jared a measured glance. “I still don’t know why you think a folk singer could help you find your son, but sure - if you think I can.”
“Thank you,” Jared said then took Steve’s business card.
“Be careful if you’re thinking about visiting Black Woods,” Steve cautioned them. “Jensen wasn’t kidding about people getting turned around there. Hell, I did twice, and I was born and raised here.”
“We will,” Jared said.
It was the unforgettable scent of sweet meat that made it rise from its bed of wet, sticky leaves. It sniffed the air then caught the drifting sense of fear and confusion.
Oh yes, food can be had tonight.
It slowly rose to its haunches as its companions also woke. They were careful though. Rumbling tummies meant nothing against the dangers of the hunt. But oh, that scent of promised redness and spread of heavy warmth was enough for the tribe to venture out.
Sweet meat and gristle to chew. With the cleansing of cold water and maybe a view of the sky untouched by darkness.
They lurched out of their haunt, baying at nothing. But knowing that whoever or whatever heard them would scatter into their hidey-holes and quiver in fear.
Yes! Yes! Yes! They howled at each other.
Meat tonight, and fear, too.
And they spread their wildness like a plague across the woods as they slithered through the trees and bushes. More joined as their brethren crawled out from trees and burrows hidden ever so cleverly from human eyes until three became a pack, with the wildest at the lead: spearing fear into every living creature with its howls and snarls.
Hunt today. Meat tonight.
Jared looked at the edge of the woods and noticed the clear demarcation that separated the park from the Black Woods. Chad wasn’t so observant.
“Okay,” he said as he looked around. “I can’t tell. Can you?”
Jared jerked a nod, his lips twisted in a grimace. “The plants in the Black Woods are lush.”
Chad looked at his friend. “And that’s bad … how?”
“I can’t really explain but it’s as if everything there fed on some kind of poison that actually helped them bloat up.”
“Really,” Chad said, his disbelief clear in his voice. He turned to examine the differences but found none.
“Listen,” Jared said, pointing upwards.
Chad did. Only then did he realize what his friend was talking about. “Oh, shit,” he said, his voice thin and strained. “Where are the birds?”
“I haven’t heard anything for the last fifteen minutes,” Jared said. “Back when we were in the Park, yeah - there was a ruckus, but not here. And I bet the silence is going to be completely oppressive if we go in there.”
“Let’s not, then.” Chad took a step backwards. “Not that I’m superstitious or anything, but why tempt fate?”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Jared glanced at his watch. “The library should be open by now.”
“If Ms. Lenmore feels like it,” Chad added, grinning as he remembered the alleged proclivities of the librarian.
As it turned out, the place was open and was guarded by a woman who looked exactly like Ruth Gordon did in Rosemary’s Baby. In fact, her resemblance was so close that Jared had to look twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.
“May I help you?” she asked.
Jared had to stop himself from stuttering out a ‘no’ and walking away. There was something in her voice that struck him as genteel yet malicious. He didn’t even have to look at Chad to know his friend was feeling the same thing.
“Yes, we wanted to read up on some of the history of the island,” Jared said politely but coolly.
“Of course,” Ms. Lenmore stood up then fastidiously smoothed down her crisp blouse and wool skirt. “There isn’t much, mind you. But I’m sure I can get you what you need.
“Is there a specific topic you’re interested in?”
“The artist colony?”
“I suspected as much,” Ms. Lenmore said with a little sniff. “This way.”
Both Jared and Chad expected couple of books, maybe some newspaper archives. What they got was more than a dozen books, all of them big enough to be used as a roadblock.
“If you need anything, just come by the front desk.”
Jared had enough sense to interpret that as disturb me with your deviant questions and I will shank you. when he heard the cutting tone in her voice.
“I doubt that,” Chad said with a broad smile. “Thank you so much for your help. This is just awesome!”
In the face of Chad's cheerful gratitude, Ms. Lenmore had no choice but to leave without dropping further hints.
Jared heard the woman’s heels clap against the floor in a staccato beat but refused to look up at her departure. Instead, he concentrated on the material laid out in front of him.
“I was under the impression there wasn’t going to be much at the library,” he said as he grabbed a tome and opened its dusty, moldy pages.
“When was the last time Steve came to this friggin’ place, you think?” Chad said as he opened the closest book to him. “Wow, this is going to be boring.”
Jared looked at Chad. “So, your college GPA was a fluke?”
“No, man,” Chad said, miffed. “I studied and I test well, so the 4.0 was honestly gotten, but history bores the hell out of me, you know?”
“Read the footnotes if you can’t stomach the text.” Jared pointed at the nearly-illegible print at the bottom of the pages. “They’re the best way to go.”
“Will do.”
After two solid hours the two men came to the conclusion that the readings were nothing but one glorified tourist claptrap written by people who were desperate for Robbin Island to get some recognition. However, that drive did not extend to the hospice. In fact, the Black Fire as it was called, was mentioned in quite a few works, but there were only two articles written about the hospice and what types of patients they accepted.
“I guess this is why most of the stuff Tuohy dug up was wrong,” Jared concluded. “There wasn’t much written about the sanatorium to begin with.”
“And that makes me really wonder what happened back then.” Chad carelessly flipped through a bound volume of Island Chronicles that served as the main paper for the entire San Juan Islands. “An entire hospital burns down, killing most of its patients and probably a lot of the staff, and nobody writes about it? Even back then sensationalism sold. And that kind of tragedy should’ve gotten front page if not in Seattle than at least here.
“But it didn’t, and do you know what that tells me?”
“What?” Jared was fascinated by how his friend’s mind worked.
“That somebody covered it up and did it successfully,” Chad concluded. “And that takes a lot of money, not to mention power. To keep something out of the news is almost impossible unless you’ve got friends in all the right places. It’s true now as it was back then.”
“And there couldn’t have been that many people who had had that kind of pull,” Jared added before digging through the books in front of him. “Hold on a minute - I read a list of what’s known as the ‘Pioneers’ of this island.”
“That sounds promising.”
Jared pulled out a thin pamphlet and flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Take a look at this.”
Chad gave a cursory glance and said, “Okay, some of the names are familiar, Kindle being one.”
“Beaver being the other,” Jared said. “I think that’s got to be Jim Beaver's ancestors. He was the sheriff right before Jensen.”
Chad shook his head in mock admiration. “Wow, these islanders really do know how to keep the tradition going.”
“I’m going to make Xeroxes off of some books.” Jared stood up with an armful. “You want me to copy something?”
Chad shook his head and went back to reading a dainty book that looked incongruous in his large hands.
Jared had to get the exact change from Ms. Lenmore in order to make copies and noted that she was in a much more amiable mood. He suspected she called around and somebody finally told her the reason for their presence in her library.
Jared noted with some dark glee that while Jensen and his friends shared their info at such speed that they were fully prepared when Jared showed up, Lenmore had to hunt down hers.
Nobody likes that old biddy, Jared concluded. Have to wonder what she did or didn’t do to earn that kind of hostility.
After all, gossip was worth its weight in gold, especially in small towns like Alliance Bay and nobody bothered to share the wealth with the librarian. That told Jared plenty about what the good people of Robbin Island thought about their neighbor.
As the copy machine hummed its ancient tune, Jared’s attention wandered. He noticed a corkboard to his right and looked closer. There was a replica of the map of the island from 1944, obviously filched from the War Department. The going price for a copy was two dollars. Jared leaned closer to read the one offered on the board.
The copier’s incessant droning faded away. Though there were no markers pointing to where the sanatorium once stood, he could place it in the general vicinity from what he’d heard. However, what was interesting was the name of the beach closest to the sanatorium: Kindle Bay.
It was then Jared knew, as bizarre as the idea was, that everything that had happened to was somehow tied to Kindle and the sanatorium. That, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, his entire family was being punished for the artist who died nearly a century ago. A man who, by all accounts, was both a gifted artist and a boor directly responsible for the death of his wife and child.
Jesus Christ, Jared thought as a horrid suspicion bloomed. Does someone think I’m like Kindle? Did the bastard who took Aiden believe I’m somehow connected to the asshole? Is that why what’s happening to me so fucking similar to what had happened to that man, and his family?!
Jared could barely force himself to accept the idea, for in that story, both Kindle’s wife and child burned to death. He tucked in two dollars into the collection jar and took a copy of the map. He then waited impatiently for the copier to finish before rushing back to find Chad looking even more bored than before.
“We have to go,” Jared said.
“Go where?”
“To the mines.”
“Okay, that’s about the most random thing you’ve said so far, and that’s saying something.”
“I’ll show you.”
Jared unfolded the map and pointed to the sanatorium, the beach, all located right in or next to the Black Woods.
“Fuck me,” Chad said. “Jared, I gotta tell you, we have got to get some help if you want to go there. We don’t have the expertise to go hopping into mines that could collapse behind us any minute.”
Jared couldn’t argue with his friend. “You’re right. Let me see if Jensen’s available.”
“If you could get him to go, I’ll be more than happy to come along.”
“Done.”
Jensen idly spun a pen on his desk. To anyone unfamiliar with the man, it would look as if he was bored. However, to the few who could claim to know him well, it was obvious Jensen was deeply engrossed in whatever was occupying his thoughts.
With a frustrated sigh, Jensen stood up from his armchair and stretched his back. He could imagine what Jared and Chad were doing now.
Exactly what he and Steve told them not to do: explore the Black Woods.
He also knew his fears about the place weren’t unfounded. The people who managed to wander out after being missing for more than two days were more than just discombobulated. Many of them also suffered from amnesia, and worse. Worse being mental trauma of unknown origin. Grown men and women had regressed to early childhood. Their thinking process so badly damaged that they couldn’t dress themselves, and some ended up in adult diapers because they didn’t know how to use the toilet properly. The condition eventually disappeared and the patients recovered with no memory of their bizarre medical problems.
But Jensen did. He’d seen the recordings of their day-to-day struggles and the evidence shocked him. So, he dug deeper and discovered something else even more frightening: the ones who never returned.
The number of missing weren’t high, so the press never got wind of it. However, the locals knew. Even Steve could recollect two people who had disappeared in or near the Woods. One had been a childhood friend, and her disappearance prompted the most thorough search in the island. What was even more disturbing was the fact they were all without exception children.
Some of them could be old enough to be considered runaways, but Jensen couldn’t fathom three-year-old Anna Stiles planning to escape to L.A. for a shot at becoming a Hollywood star.
And, again, all were tied to those damn woods - where he had an experience that could be categorized as … spooky.
Jensen smirked and shook his head, but he was open-minded enough to accept the fact he might just have had a brush with the supernatural when he managed to get lost in the Black Woods. However, what he’d felt wasn’t some malicious entity bent on shredding his guts. Instead, it … whatever it was felt sad and abandoned - like he did once when he lost sight of his mother at the Neiman Marcus store in Dallas when he was only seven. At first, it was a feeling of airiness, as if he was suddenly transformed into something insubstantial like a soft breeze. Then came panic, fear, and hostility towards his mother for letting him get lost.
That didn’t last a breath when he finally caught sight of his mother, her face ashen, her movements frantic and uncoordinated as she looked for her son.
Somehow and Jensen still couldn’t figure out how - he managed to find his way out of the foul trees and their oozing branches. He suspected it was because he’d gotten lost during daylight.
That was a year after he moved to the island. And he’d often wondered what would happen should he once again tramp through those dark woods with their lush growth that seemed corrupted somehow. And the silence: that deathly, condemning silence encasing him like a coffin.
Jensen heard some bustling outside his door and heard Jared’s voice. He knew then he’d soon find out.
“Thank you for all your help,” Jared said, half-jogging after Jensen. In spite of his longer gait, the sheriff had quicker tempo and outstripped him in moments.
“Don’t thank me until we’re back in town,” Jensen said curtly.
“Why did you leave Chris behind?” Jared asked. “I thought he would be a better guide for the woods.”
Jensen stopped and turned to Jared. “And that’s exactly why I decided to leave him behind. Because if we get lost, we’re going to need the best tracker to find us and get us out.”
“Oh.” Jared had to admit the idea had merit.
“And Steve’s got a working boat,” Jensen said with a sheepish grin. “He can take us around the island and use the sanatorium’s abandoned dock. That way we can avoid cutting through the Black Woods.”
“Damn good plan.”
The two men walked to the waterfront and found the dock where Steve’s boat was moored. Jared stopped when he saw his transport.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath.
“It floats - and better - it moves,” Jensen said. He then waved to Steve who popped up out of the wheelhouse. “It’s his home, too, in case you’re going to critique it.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Jared said, grateful for the gentle chastisement.
Steve stepped on the plank in order to stabilize it when Jared stepped on it. “Take it easy,” Steve said. “Six steps are all you need.”
“I know,” Jared replied weakly. He didn’t look down and instead concentrated in Jensen who was waiting for him. In spite of all that had had happened, Jared didn’t want to look like an incompetent idiot in front of the most self-sufficient man he’d ever met.
Jensen didn’t say anything as he extended a strong hand and helped Jared the last step onto the tugboat. Jared flushed in embarrassment but kept quiet.
“I think that’s your friend with provisions,” Steve said, pointing to Chad hurrying down the dock with a two heavy grocery bags.
“Jesus, I told him to buy enough food for just one night,” Jared said, watching two shopping bags swing dangerous arcs besides Chad.
“He’s just being cautious,” Steve said. He then looked at Jensen with a smirk. “I guess you told him about the condition of my fridge?”
“What condition?” Jensen said. “In order for something to have a condition, it has to exist first. And you don’t have a fridge: you have a cooler.”
“It’s got beer.” was Steve’s cool reply.
“And I’m grateful for that,” Jensen said. “But my point stands.”
Chad took the gangway with nimble steps. “Sorry I was late. I basically cleaned out the store’s pasta section.”
Steve’s lips twitched in a smile. “You know, in order to eat pasta you have to actually boil it.”
Chad looked at Steve. “Dude, tell me you got a hot plate.”
“Yeah, is that enough?”
“Chad made pasta using electric kettles,” Jared explained. “The stuff wasn’t half bad either.”
“Ramen too!” Chad added. "And I'm talking about the good stuff, not the MSG shit."
“Okay, then. I guess we’re set. Find a seat,” Steve said as he passed out lifejackets.
Chad and Jensen opted to join Steve in the wheelhouse while Jared stayed outside. He didn’t want his companions to see how unstable he was. The sprays of seawater slapping his face should’ve been refreshing, but all he felt was cold nausea roiling not only in his stomach but also in his mind.
Chad stuck his head out and shouted, “Yo, it’s your brother. You wanna talk to him?”
Jared managed to pull himself out of his bleak daydreams and took Chad’s cell. “Hey.”
“Sandy told me what you were doing,” Jeff said in a remarkably calm voice. “I was wondering if you’d lost your mind, and then I remembered it would be an act of kindness if you did.
“So where the fuck are you?”
“On Robbin Island, chasing down a lead.”
“Why the fuck did you go back there?”
“Wait a minute, what do you mean back?” Jared managed to croak out.
“I think you just turned six, so maybe you were too young to remember,” Jeff said. “Dad took us boating around the San Juan Islands. You had an accident right off Robbin and fell off the boat. We found you two days later, on a beach nearby.
“You had to spend an entire week in a hospital. I can’t remember why but it was pretty bad.”
“Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?”
“Well, I got into shit-deep trouble is what I remember the most,” Jeff admitted.
“What did you do?”
“Not did, said,” Jeff corrected. “You were delirious when we found you, and were muttering all sorts of wild things. One of the words you mentioned was Tommyknockers.”
“Tommyknockers?” Jared echoed. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, and I was so curious I decided to find out what it was.” Jeff sounded genuinely contrite. “Anyway, I made up a poem about them and teased you. Mind you I did it just once.
“You completely freaked out and had to be hospitalized again. Mom and dad were livid and I was banned from playing sports for the following school year. All I could do was go to class then come home. And that was it.”
“What happened to me?”
“You recovered in couple of weeks, but it was scary to see you in that state. I really was sorry for what I said.”
Jared could tell his brother was still regretting his childish prank. “Well, I don’t remember any of that so don’t worry about it.”
“Jared, why are you back there, exactly?”
“Like I said, I discovered something about a person who took Aiden, and the information led me here.”
“If that island is what it was back then, good luck. It was bush league save for the sheriff.”
“Beaver, right?”
“Yeah, the guy was a total dick but he knew his stuff. He did a very thorough job combing the entire area surrounding the bay where we docked the boat.”
“Do you remember where it was?”
“It was called Kindle Bay. From what I remember there were some ruins nearby.”
“Did you go there?” Jared’s voice sounded far away to him and he wondered if he would be able to hear Jeff’s answer.
“Yeah, but only the beach. We were looking for you all over the water but when we couldn’t find you, dad navigated the boat right into town … I forgot its name and contacted the sheriff.
“Beaver took over from there.”
“Where did you find me, exactly?”
“It wasn’t us,” Jeff answered. “It was an old seadog. He told us he found you on the beach, which was strange because we were pretty damn thorough in our search.
“Mom thought you might have washed ashore earlier then wandered off before coming back. The truth was we were too glad to see you alive so we never questioned the guy who found you.”
“Do you remember the man’s name?”
“Sam Coates,” Jeff answered readily. “He died couple of years back.”
“How do you know?”
“Dad told me. I think he kept in touch with Beaver after everything settled. Don’t ask me why: I can’t possibly imagine two men more different than dad and that grizzly bear of a sheriff, but there you have it.”
"If you could get dad to call me on Chad's cell, I'd appreciate it."
"Is there a reason why he can't call you on yours?"
Jared slowly explained what had happened with Tuohy, not out of fear that Jeff would misunderstand, but because he would blow a gasket. Jeff didn't and ended the call with a promise to reach dad and make him call Jared ASAP.
The cell hung loosely in his grasp as Jared watched the cliffs looming to his left turn into steep hills. Then, a decrepit dock came to view and for a moment Jared wanted to throw himself off the boat and swim out towards the sea.
Since he stepped foot on Robbin Island, Jared had been able to repress his feelings of unease, blaming it on Aiden's disappearance.
Now, he knew better. Jared could feel his memories scratching their way free. Their thin, sallow fingers ending in claws dipped in poisonous truths, slowly but assuredly breaking through the many walls Jared had built over the years. But what was even worse was that his fear was lurking right outside, ready to dine on the memories' putrid meat. And then, when its belly was full, gather the strength necessary to take him down, rendering him useless.
Part III * Part V