CHAPTER 10

WAKE SAW THE dim lights of the Visitor Center through the trees as he walked up the path from the cabin. He glanced at his watch. The path to Lovers’ Peak was at the end of the nature trail that started behind the Visitor Center; he still had plenty of time before he met with the kidnapper. Ravens cawed in the darkness, and he felt a sharp pain lance through his head, as though the birds were screeching inside his skull. Then the ground started rolling under him, a tremor at first, building until it was so powerful that Wake had to hang on to a tree to stay upright, hanging on so tightly that his cheek was scraped raw. The lights at the Visitor Center flickered, and then went dark.

His phone rang. “H-hello? ”

“Al! ” Barry’s voice crackled from the phone. “Did… feel that? ”

“Yeah, ” said Wake, still dizzy, feeling like he had to throw up. “Stay where you are. ”

“What? ” shouted Barry. “…can’t hear… breaking up. ”

“I said…” The phone went dead. Wake was tempted to go back to the cabin, not wanting to risk being in the woods when the next quake hit, or an aftershock. Then the screaming began from the Visitor Center, and Wake knew he couldn’t go back. He ran toward the sound, kicking up gravel in his haste. Wake had his revolver out, his flashlight too.

The road opened out to a scene of total destruction. A wrecked car rolled slowly down the road, car alarm blaring. Rusty’s Jeep had crashed into the front of Visitor Center, slamming halfway through one window, hood crumpled, the engine still racing. Downed power cables swayed over the parking lot, sparks arcing in the night. The ELDERWOOD NATIONAL PARK VISITOR CENTER sign was splintered, hanging at an angle. The phone booth out front seemed to have exploded, the receiver embedded into the side of the building. The screams were weaker now, more of a whimper coming from inside.

Wake followed the beam of the flashlight, walked slowly into the Visitor Center, feet crunching on broken glass with every step. He checked behind him, kept moving. The skull of Buck-Toothed Charlie, the mastodon skeleton on display in the lobby, had fallen free of the rest of him, the gigantic curved tusks gleaming in the dim light. The map stand had been upended, shelves knocked down. Souvenirs and postcards lay scattered everywhere. The air inside stank of rotten meat, as though something had drowned and after being picked over by crabs and other scuttling things, had finally washed ashore.

“Hello! ” shouted Wake. “Anybody here? ”

“H-help, ” someone called from farther inside. “Please…”

Wake moved closer. There. A man sat against the windows along the back wall of the caf& #233;, his head slumped forward. Wake hurried toward him, shining the flashlight on the man’s face.

The man held up one hand, shielding his eyes from the light. Blood was splashed across the windows behind him, more blood soaking his green uniform. His fingers twitched toward the pistol that lay beside him. “Mr. W-Wake? ”

“Rusty? ” Wake bent down beside the park ranger. The stain on Rusty’s jacket was growing, spreading out. “What happened? ”

“The whole place started shaking…” Rusty held his midsection with both hands, blood oozing between the fingers. “I thought it was an earthquake, but then… then my car started up with no one in it. What… what’s going on, Mr. Wake? ”

Wake tried his phone again. No signal. “Where’s the first-aid kit? ”

“This logger came at me with an ax, ” wailed Rusty, his broken leg twisted under him at an impossible angle. “He just started swinging. I shot him, Mr. Wake. First time I ever used my gun in the line of duty… but it didn’t do any good. ” His lower lip trembled. “How can that be? ”

Wake heard movement outside, shined his flashlight through the windows. There was nobody there. Just the darkness. That was enough.

“What good’s a gun when they won’t die? ” Rusty pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket, held it out. The manuscript page was soggy with blood. “I don’t understand, Mr. Wake. Everything that happened… it’s just the way it was on this page I found. ”

Wake flattened out the manuscript page, the type smeared from the blood, but Rusty’s name was clear.

Rusty did his best, but… Taken… unfazed by… The Taken’s ax sheared… ranger screamed.

“I’m afraid… afraid the logger’s coming back, Mr. Wake. ”

“Where’s the first-aid kit? ” said Wake.

“Put the lights on, Mr. Wake. Please? ”

“I can’t, Rusty, the power lines are all down. But I’ve got a flashlight and extra batteries. We’re going to be okay. Just tell me where the first-aid kit is so I can patch you up. ”

“Patch me up? ” Rusty laughed and blood poured from his mouth. “Sure… you do that. ” He waved toward the front of the Visitor Center. “Manager’s office. On the wall. ”

His head flopped to one side, too heavy for him to support it now. “I wish Rose was here. I should have told her… told her sooner how I feel about her. ”

Wake patted Rusty’s shoulder, then made his way across the courtyard to the manager’s office. He rummaged through the room by the light of the flashlight and had just picked up the first-aid kit when the whole building shook again. A tall metal cabinet fell over, nearly pinning him. He heard Rusty pleading, his voice suddenly drowned out by an explosion that threw Wake against the desk. By the time Wake got back to the caf& #233;, Rusty was gone, just a long smear of blood left behind on the floor.

Wake stood there staring at the blood. Rusty had begged him not to leave, said that the logger that attacked him would be coming back, and Wake, even with all he knew, all he had seen for himself, had gone for bandages.

Wake felt a cool breeze against the back of his neck. He turned and saw that a hole had been blown through one wall, big enough to drive a truck through. Wake cautiously touched the raw edges of the opening, then stepped through and out onto the grass, the softness of the ground oddly comforting. There was nothing he could do for Rusty. Probably never had been. He could still see the pained amusement on the ranger’s face as he repeated, patch me up? The trail to Lovers’ Peak started right there, right through that wooden gate. Wake started toward it.

“Fishing is only permitted for those visitors who purchase a park fishing license! ” warbled someone, the voice distorted.

Wake looked around, finally glanced up, saw a man pacing on the roof, his face covered in shadows.

“It is against the law to remove any natural objects or historical artifacts from the park grounds! ” said the man, hefting a double-bladed ax.

It was Rusty.

“Rusty… Rusty, please don’t, ” said Wake.

Rusty dropped down from the roof, landing as lightly as though he were made of smoke. “It is forbidden to remove rocks you may find along the river or even simple berries, sir! ”

Wake backed up toward the gate, but Rusty cut him off.

“Obey the park ranger’s instructions at all times, ” said Rusty, advancing on him.

Wake shone the flashlight on him and Rusty cowered, threw an arm in front of his face.

“I’m sorry, ” said Wake, “I shouldn’t have left you. ”

Rusty charged, the ax swooshing through the air.

Wake caught him in the glare of the flashlight, shot him. The shadow that shielded Rusty, the shadow that filled him, animated him, disintegrated in the light.

Rusty flinched, unprotected now, but came at him again. “Obey the park—”

Wake shot him again and again as Rusty stood frozen in the light, shot him until the creature who had once been a park ranger dissolved in the night, leaving only the fading echo of his voice behind.

Wake looked around and started reloading. His hands were steady as he slipped the bullets into the cylinders, steadier than he felt. He had killed Stucky, killed other Taken, but that was different. He didn’t know them. He had talked with Rusty. Seen him shyly flirting with Rose in the Oh Deer Diner that first day, noticed the way Rusty watched her over the rim of his coffee mug. A beautiful moment, the kind of thing a novelist noted, something to be used later, in a book that hadn’t been written. Wake had been there as Rusty tenderly cared for the injured dog, soothing the poor animal with his touch and his voice. Now Wake had killed him. Killed the thing Rusty had become. Wake wiped his eyes and pushed open the gate. All the tears in the world weren’t going to bring back the park ranger. He had Alice to think about now.

Wake had taken barely a dozen steps down the nature trail when the ground shook again, a monstrous roar pounding through the forest. The trees quaked as though buffeted by a storm. Just as suddenly, the forest grew quiet, utterly still, not even a breath of wind. Wake checked his watch and hurried on, the path rising steadily through the trees, past picnic tables and trash cans, trailside displays of flora and fauna, laminated maps marked with arrows saying YOU ARE HERE!

Wake kept moving. It seemed like all he had done for days now was keep moving, wherever the path leads, as long as it led to Alice. He slowed, head cocked, then stopped, his flashlight glinting on something just ahead. He walked closer, shining the flashlight across the path.

A bear trap lay in the grass beside the path, jaws wide, jagged teeth shining in the light. Rusty had warned him about old traps scattered across the forest; most of the trappers who had set them were long gone now. The trap was huge, but as big as it was, without the flashlight Wake would have probably walked right into it. Even if he managed to pry the jaws open, he’d be bleeding, his ankle broken, dragging one leg behind him. Easy prey for the Taken. Wake nudged the trap with the toe of his boot and the jaws snapped shut, the sound too loud for comfort.

Wake remembered Rusty dying on the floor of the lodge, trying to hold his guts in with both hands, whimpering for Wake to please help him. Wake hadn’t been able to do the ranger any good. He turned his head now, listening for sounds in the trees. Maybe killing Rusty after he’d become a Taken was as much of a kindness as Wake could manage. He started walking again, the flashlight beam swiveling back and forth across the trail.

Wind rippled the trees, the darkness seeming to gather itself closer around him. Wake avoided another bear trap, and then another, this one better hidden, almost invisible in the weeds.

The trail switchbacked up the mountain, finally bringing Wake to a cable car at the edge of a drop-off. A Lovers’ Peak arrow pointed down. He looked over, saw a cable stretched a couple hundred feet over a ravine to another landing below. The cable car looked rickety, with only a low railing to keep a rider from falling out. The USE AT YOUR OWN RISK, NO HORSEPLAY sign above the landing didn’t help to inspire confidence either. Wake pressed the button on the landing and the cable car slowly moved toward him, making grinding noises as it got closer and closer. If Barry were here, he’d already be talking about lawsuits and deep pockets, and owning the whole town if the thing crashed onto the rocks below.

Wake got in, closed the gate behind him, the cable car swaying now. Wake’s stomach was doing backflips that would do the Romanian gymnastics team proud. He pressed a button in the car, tightly gripping the sides as it lurched across the chasm.

CAW!

Wake looked up and saw a raven approaching on silent wings, unhurried. A few moments later there were a dozen ravens in the sky, circling overhead. He pressed the button in the car, as though that would make it go faster. More ravens now, an enormous flock of them, blocking out the stars, more of them gathering as he watched.

CAW! CAW! CAW!

The swarm of ravens swooped down at him, shadows leaking out of them, screeching, beating at him with their wings. He tried to duck, but they attacked again, and he felt one of them land on the back of his neck, tearing at him with its beak. Blood pouring from his ear, Wake cursed, turned his flashlight on the ravens, stunned to find them flaring up and disappearing, just like the Taken. He fought waves of ravens with the flashlight beam alone, killing them by the dozens, but they still kept coming, swarming the cable car, their shadows filling the night.

The cable car shuddered and came to a brief halt.

It hung there for a moment, suspended above the ravine, before something gave way and it started screeching down the cable faster and faster. Wake held on, bracing himself for impact.

The cable car hit hard, sending Wake tumbling out onto the ground, end over end, his flashlight flying. He lay there stunned for a moment, trying to breathe, the wind knocked out of him. He groaned as he got slowly to his knees, picking up his flashlight. His revolver… his revolver was gone. He looked around in panic and spotted it near the cable car. Still disoriented, Wake could only crawl toward the revolver on his hands and knees. Almost there. Almost there now…

A worn, hobnailed boot tromped on the revolver, then kicked it over the edge and into the ravine.

Wake stared at the mud-crusted boot, groggy, thinking that someone should tell him that his laces were untied. Wouldn’t want to trip. He looked up…

A Taken stood beside the cable car, gripping a hand-sickle. He must have been part of a work crew in the park, keeping the trails clear, but that was before… before he had become part of the darkness. He started toward Wake, the blade of the sickle shiny in the moonlight, sharp enough to shave with.

Wake fumbled at the flashlight.

The Taken loomed over him, muttering, the sickle raised high.

Wake flicked on the flashlight, turned it on the Taken.

The darkness peeled away from the Taken, but it still had the strength to swing the sickle down—

Wake threw up his arm, a futile attempt to protect himself. There was a crack like thunder, and the Taken rocked backwards, its outlines shimmering.

Another thunderclap and the Taken erupted in light.

Wake looked over his shoulder, saw a man standing there with a pistol, smoke curling out of the barrel.

Ellen shivered as the wind kicked up. A sweater and jacket should have been plenty to ward off the chill, but it was so cold the stars looked jagged. Well, that’s science, Ellen, she told herself, you have to be prepared for anything.

Ellen wasn’t weird, no matter what the other 7th graders said. No matter what her mother said either. Her mind just turned things over differently. Which was why she now sat alone in the forest with her ears plugged, and a tape recorder beside her. Soon, Ellen would know the answer to the question: if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?

The alder trees rattled against each other in the wind like finger bones. Ellen pushed her earplugs in farther. Every time it stormed, some scrawny alders toppled over; she just had to be here when it happened, and let the recorder provide the proof if they actually made a sound when they fell.

She shivered again, the temperature falling by the second, colder and colder. Kind of creepy in the darkness, but scientists had to be brave. She turned, thought she saw something off in the trees, but there was only darkness. She rubbed her arms, trying to bring the heat back, but the cold drifted deeper inside her.

The wind rose sharply, sent the trees clattering against each other, the sound so loud she heard it through her earplugs. She wondered if that would ruin the experiment. Her teeth chattered. She wanted to leave, to get up and run home, but the cold rolled over her like an icy mist, the cold clinging and dark. Her breath was frost in the air as she stood up, knees shaking. She tried to get her bearings, but nothing looked right, nothing looked familiar. What had happened to the stars? It looked like somebody had pulled the plug on heaven—

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