The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set #5 - 7 Page 12

  “Put that down before you hurt yourself, kid,” came a female voice from the direction of the supposed wild animal.

  Sully released the breath he’d been holding, then laid a hand on top of Pax’s head to calm him. “Pax, stop. It’s okay.” Once the barking stopped, Sully squinted back into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

  A woman came into view, stepping out fully from behind a large tree. She was large, tall and broad, almost an older female version of Dez. Something was familiar about the voice, one Sully thought he’d last heard several years ago.

  She was closer now, close enough he could make out a few of her facial features. “Give me your name first,” she said, tone demanding rather than requesting.

  He no longer needed her answer. He lowered the large branch as memory clicked into place. “Rosie?”

  She pulled up short in her advance toward him. “Who are you? I know your voice.”

  It was no use hiding the truth. It might take her a moment, but she’d figure it out pretty quick. Pulling his hood down, he smiled at her. “I used to work at the Black Fox.”

  It took her a few seconds, but she ended by grinning her recognition. “Sullivan Gray. My God. I haven’t seen you in something like five years. How you doin’?”

  “I’m okay.” He remembered Sadie and turned his head to the left. She was still there, standing nearby.

  Waiting.

  Hopefully, she’d wait a little longer. You didn’t easily abandon a conversation with Rasslin’ Rosie Dalton.

  “What are you doing out here this late?” she asked. She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re not one of those nut bar ghost hunters been trespassing at Loons Hollow, are you?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “I guess you could say I’m a ghost hunter, but I’m not doing it for the entertainment value. A guy went missing out here by the name of Emory Davis. Have you heard about it?”

  “I saw a search party going through earlier today. It was all I could do to avoid them.”

  “Do you live out here or something?”

  “Yep,” she said. “Over five years now. I had enough of the city. People there were going bad, like rotting apples. Riverview wasn’t what it once was. Used to be you could walk around the place and find a friend. Lately, all you’re doing is dodging enemies. You and your brother were tight with Bulldog Bird. He’s a good guy. You ever see him?”

  “Quite a bit, actually,” Sully said. “Although I haven’t seen too many people in the past couple of years.” Secrets were safe with Rosie, never more so than now that she was well into a self-imposed exile here in the woods. He spent a few minutes updating her about having faked his own death to escape the horrors of Lockwood, and the necessity to return in part.

  “What the hell were you doing at Lockwood?” she asked when he’d finished. “You’re about as crazy as I am.”

  In certain circles, that might not be seen as a compliment. Sully, though, had quickly come to see Rosie differently than some. She had always been one of Kimotan Rapids’s quirky characters, someone who breathed life into an otherwise dull place. Many, he knew, didn’t appreciate quirky, and those people had a much more negative view of the woman.

  She had been a jail guard for many years, until an on-the-job incident left her on long-term disability. After recovering, she landed a new job, teaching wrestling at a local club. On weekends, she took part in the city’s answer to the World Wrestling Federation, earning herself some small-scale fame as Rasslin’ Rosie.

  He didn’t know much about it, but he’d heard Rosie fell out of favour when one of her competitors was badly injured during an in-ring accident. Shortly after, she quit her job at the wrestling club and people stopped seeing her at her old hangouts in the Riverview neighbourhood—or anywhere else, for that matter. Some people guessed she’d committed suicide. Others suspected guilt had driven her to drugs or drink, and that she’d OD’d in a crack house somewhere. Still others theorized her fallen competitor’s family, friends or fans had done something to make her disappear.

  Sully hadn’t bothered much with the latter theory. He hadn’t seen her ghost, so he was pretty sure homicide hadn’t played a hand in her disappearance. He had wondered about the real reason along with everyone else, though, and he couldn’t not ask her now—ghost or no ghost waiting nearby.

  “What happened to you? You just vanished. Everyone wondered.”

  “Like I said, the city wasn’t what it used to be for me. And you no doubt heard what happened during that match. Some weird people love wrestling in KR, and they made life miserable for me afterward. I was getting threats; people left nasty letters in my mailbox. I even got spit on in public a couple of times. That sort of thing gets old fast.

  “I used to come up here as a kid with my grandpa. He grew up here, near Loons Hollow, and he turned his childhood home into a hunting cabin. I would come up with him quite a bit. Truth be told, he was more tracker than hunter; he enjoyed watching the animals too much. I guess I inherited that from him, and when things got bad in KR, I decided I might be better off spending my time with animals than people. I haven’t looked back. It’s not easy, and winters can be pretty damn hard, but I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”

  “I’ve lived off the grid for two years now,” Sully said. “I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

  “Then I hope you get there. It’s a good life if you don’t mind the isolation. For my part, I enjoy it.”

  Sully glanced again to the side. Sadie hadn’t moved. “You’re not exactly isolated,” he told Rosie. “Do you ever see anything out here? Anything you can’t explain?”

  Rosie stared at him, a few seconds passing before she responded. “You mean, anything spooky? I don’t go in for that sort of thing. People do a lot of talking about some sort of ghost in these woods, but I have yet to see something.”

  “She’s probably not at all that interested in you. It’s men she seems to have the problem with.”

  “Like I said, not my cup of tea, kid. You can believe what you want. Far as I’m concerned, we live this life and then we die. End of story. Game over. All this nonsense about life after death, that’s just people’s way of trying to make themselves feel better.”

  “What if I told you that wasn’t true?”

  “You can tell me anything you like. I’m always happy to listen. Doesn’t mean I’m going to buy what you’re selling.”

  Sully wasn’t about to get into a debate. There wasn’t time, and he’d given up years ago on the idea he could change minds and philosophies. His experiences, real as they were, were still just his. Others had as much of a right to their own beliefs, to experience the world as it unfolded before them.

  Anyway, Rosie clearly had no information on Sadie, so the conversation—nice at it had been to catch up—wasn’t much help to him.

  “I wouldn’t try to sell you on anything,” he said. “Not my style. Listen, if you should happen to see Emory, or find any signs of him, could you let me know?”

  “I don’t have a phone, Gray, and I don’t exactly have the ability or inclination to get myself an Internet connection either. Not sure how I’d let you know.”

  “I can come back, check in with you.”

  “Look, if I find him, and he’s wandering around lost out here, I’ll get him to the road and send him on his way to get help. Just don’t you go getting lost. I understand why you’re out here, wandering around in the dark, what with your needing to avoid the authorities and all. But it’s not safe. There’s stuff you could step in. If you break a leg, you’ll be a sitting duck for the coyotes. They’re almost as big as wolves out here.”

  “I’ve got Pax,” he said.

  Rosie eyed the large dog. “Good point. Well, take care of yourself. You get lost tonight, find yourself a high point and look for the plume of smoke. I keep a fire at my cabin at night. You’re welcome to come there.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Having exchanged a handshake
, the two parted ways, leaving Sully to return his attention to the ghost.

  As if realizing he was following once again, the ghost resumed their game, disappearing and reappearing as she took him and Pax deeper into the woods. Sully had made a note of the moon’s position when he left the car, and he was monitoring it now, using its location and path through the sky to gauge his direction. He was walking east; he knew that much. If he turned around and went west, he would hit the road eventually. Even if he didn’t come out right near the car, he would be able to find it.

  If she didn’t do something to prevent his return.

  The game was changing. The spaces between the vanishings and reappearances were growing, the distances greater and the amount of time she spent in one spot lessening. Until now, Sully had been able to walk slowly enough to monitor his surroundings for objects in his path or wild animals. As he followed, he was forced first into a jog, then a run and, finally, something just short of a full-on sprint.

  A few minutes of this had him wiping at sweat on his forehead and struggling to catch his breath. He tripped on something, coming down hard on his hands and knees. A rock or a crack in the earth, he had no idea which. He didn’t stick around long enough to find out. She was moving, putting far too much distance between them for him to comfortably keep up.

  He tried to call out, to beg her to slow down, but he could barely get out the single word: “Wait!”

  If she heard, she didn’t acknowledge it, and he struggled on behind her as she continued forward.

  The terrain was different now, no longer poplar, shrubs and undergrowth, but rock and evergreen. Here, it more closely resembled Winteredge National Park, and Sully wondered briefly if they’d crossed over into that territory.

  Not that it mattered. The important thing at this point was keeping her in his sights. He was now certain she was leading him into danger. As surely as he was looking at her, every fibre of his being, every instinct he possessed screamed at him to turn back.

  And yet he was propelled forward, almost against his own will. The only thing he knew, besides the fact he was in trouble was that he couldn’t lose sight of her. His desire to help had turned to need, and need to obsession, within the space of minutes.

  It occurred to him these were not his own emotions or thoughts. He often picked up on the feelings and thoughts of ghosts. This grasping need was not his own, but hers.

  Or maybe it was something else. Someone else. Someone he had once been. Oliver Chadwell had, after all, returned to these woods time and again, eager to help Sadie in much the same way.

  For now, the reason for Sully’s desperation didn’t matter either. His mind and his will were no longer wholly his own to control. Stopping was not an option. She could run him to death, and he could do nothing to stop it.

  Pax was at his side, holding up far better under the strain, not even panting as he focused on their target ahead. Yet Sully suspected Pax’s true priority was not the woman, but his human.

  It was more reassuring than Sully could put into words.

  Out of breath, lungs burning, heart pounding, legs aching, one ankle and both knees sore from the earlier fall, he fought to keep up. He was getting lightheaded from lack of oxygen. Had this been any other situation, he would’ve stopped long ago.

  His vision faded, growing darker around the edges, and he worried he was about to drop.

  Then he did.

  Having leapt a fallen tree, he felt no purchase as the earth opened beneath him. He fell forward, arms reaching for anything he could grab. His chest collided hard with the far edge of the fissure, and he scrabbled against the ground as his lower body dangled within a hole of unknown depth.

  The forest floor was damp, muddy, nothing to provide him purchase. There were no tree roots, no heavy rocks.

  A large black shadow temporarily blocked his sight as Pax jumped the space, then turned to face him as if meaning to haul him from danger.

  But, sliding, Sully was beyond help.

  He lost his ineffectual grip on the soft ground.

  And fell.

  13

  Panic rose in his throat, a gasp choking back what would have otherwise been a startled cry.

  He allowed terror no more than a fraction of a second of control. Fear wouldn’t save him, after all.

  Or maybe it would.

  In the uncontrolled flailing of reaching arms, the backs of the fingers on his left hand struck something hard behind him. The hole or crevice he’d fallen into wasn’t overly wide, and he had six feet worth of height in his favour.

  Less than two seconds into the fall, he twisted, gritting his teeth in a grimace as his upper spine and the back of his head collided with rock. Stars flashed behind his shuttered eyelids but he held onto consciousness.

  Bringing one leg up, he kicked against the opposite wall, seeking some sort of grip between army boot and rock. His foot skidded against the slick surface, but he’d brought his other foot up by then, seeking to plant it alongside the first. All the while, he pressed back hard against the wall behind him, aiming to wedge himself there.

  Against all hope, he succeeded, his fall broken as one heel butted up against the lower lip of a small crack. Meanwhile, his upper back stopped its downward scrape against stone.

  He hung there, suspended by the strength of his own body and the grace of the rock walls. He forced in one breath, as deeply as he could given his position, then a second. His eyes had shut of their own accord during the fall, and he opened them now, hoping to see something of his surroundings.

  Everything was black, nothing to see but a trail of night sky visible along the surface of the crevice above him. Pax was barking like crazy, his tone sharp and insistent.

  It was hard to tell exactly how far down he’d fallen, whether stable ground was reachable from his current position. He fumbled for his cellphone, finding it in its usual spot in the pocket of his hoodie. Focusing on steadying his grip so as to avoid dropping it, he pulled it free while pushing his shoulders hard back against the wall.

  Despite his best efforts, his fingers trembled with tension, and it took a few tries for him to locate and activate the flashlight function. His surroundings lit up, revealing the rocky wall facing him.

  Pax was barking down the hole now, the noise deafening as it bounced between the walls.

  “It’s okay, Pax,” Sully called up, hoping to calm the dog enough to save his own hearing. “I’m okay.”

  His voice seemed to help, Pax’s barks dwindling to softer growls and woofs. If Sully could have the same steadying effect on himself, he’d be able to ascertain the extent of the danger he was in and hopefully do something to abate it. Taking a breath, he built up the courage to aim the beam downward, following with his eyes.

  The first thing he saw was a face.

  His breath caught hard in his throat, every major muscle in his body jumping.

  One second’s worth of shock proved his undoing.

  His boot slipped in its precarious niche and set the rest of him off balance. He fought to regain the purchase he’d lost, but the slick rock refused to grant it. He slid.

  Deeper into the blackness of the pit. Nearer the body he’d seen in the light from his cellphone.

  Pain seized him as he hit bottom.

  Then the world faded.

  By the time his head cleared, his pain had dwindled to a manageable level of discomfort.

  He didn’t have the impression of receding unconsciousness, guessing rather that he’d laid there stunned for a minute or so.

  His back burned, his hoodie and his shirt having ridden up near his shoulders during the dragging plummet. He imagined his flesh was scraped raw in places, and more than one stone might have to be removed with tweezers. He was lying on his left side, and the shoulder beneath him ached—not the fiery pain of a break or dislocation, but a likely sign of strain or small muscular tear.

  He eased himself to sitting, mentally scanning himself for further injury. He was rel
ieved to find nothing more, his body suffering the sort of soreness that would soon dissipate.

  His bigger problem was what to do now that he was down here. Pax was still making noises topside, but the sound was distant. Around Sully, all was pitch black save the pathway of sky above him, far narrower than a couple of minutes ago. The distance between him and the opening had grown to uncomfortable proportions.

  Thinking about a light, he was relieved to find he’d retained the hold on his phone, tense, scraped fingers having clenched around it as he slipped down the wall.

  The fall hadn’t broken the phone, and the screen lit up as he hit the home button. Not so heartening was the “no service” message showing across the top on the screen in bold, white letters.

  That would be his next moment’s problem. Right now, he was more interested in figuring out whose face he’d seen and whether the person belonging to it was alive.

  The flashlight function worked as it should, lighting up the area well enough for Sully to find the body he’d seen. He’d come to rest just feet from what proved to be another young man. The other person was lying on his back, one leg twisted beneath him in a way that revealed a break or dislocation, the kind Sully had been lucky enough to avoid himself. The man’s arms were hugged around his chest, a position that suggested he’d lived at least long enough to feel the cold, if he wasn’t still alive.

  Sully dragged himself the few feet, closing the distance between the two of them. Careful to avoid the leg, he reached to feel for a pulse at the man’s throat. At this angle, he was afforded a better view of his face.

  It had him sucking in a gasping breath. He’d seen it before, or at least something like it.