04 The Chamber of Lies Page 3

  Silas gave her a look. “You know what will happen when he finds out.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s go.” She started forward, giving Zach a push.

  Silas motioned toward Willard. “What about Pillsbury Doughboy here?”

  “Leave him,” Monica called over her shoulder.

  “But …” Willard whined. “You just can’t leave me. How am I going to find my way back? It’s getting dark and cold. What if I catch the sniffles? You wouldn’t want me to catch the — ”

  “Silence!” the woman shouted.

  Willard grew quiet.

  Then, turning on her most pleasant voice (more fingernails on the blackboard) she said, “I assure you, you will not have to worry about any of those matters.”

  “I won’t?” Willard asked nervously.

  “Certainly not. The wild bears in these woods will make certain you never have to worry about anything again.”

  Chapter Four

  Temptation

  “What do we have here?” the doctor asked.

  “Car accident,” the ambulance attendant said. “Up on Bern Road.” He continued pushing Dad’s gurney down the hospital hallway.

  Dad tried to lean up on one elbow. “Really, guys, I’m okay. I just got a little bump on the back of the head.”

  “Right,” the doctor nodded, “but those little bumps can be nasty.” He turned to the attendant. “Get him into the ER.”

  “ER?” the attendant asked. “If he’s just got a little — ”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Right, but — ”

  “What about his wife?” the doctor asked. “You radioed that his wife was also — ”

  “I’m just a little bruised,” Mom called from where she stood in the doorway. “I got my leg caught under the dashboard, but I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing standing?” the doctor demanded. “Somebody get her a wheelchair!”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Mom protested, “No, really, I’m not — ”

  “Is everybody questioning my authority today?” the doctor demanded.

  “I’m not questioning your — ”

  “Will somebody please get this woman a wheelchair?!” A nurse appeared from one of the rooms and scurried down the hall. “Yes, Doctor, right away.”

  “Shh.” Cody motioned for Piper to press against the RV.

  The voices approached from the other side. There was no mistaking who they belonged to or who they were talking with …

  “You’ll like Reverend Festool,” the redheaded woman was saying. “He used to be one of you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zach asked.

  “It means he also worked for the wrong side … until Shadow Man turned him — just like he’ll turn you.”

  “Ooo, you’ve got me quaking in my boots,” Zach answered.

  Piper had heard enough. She started around the RV to help her brother until Cody grabbed her arm.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Zach needs our help.”

  “They’ve got guns, remember?”

  Reluctantly, she stopped as the voices passed by the other side. They were so close she could actually hear them breathing as the gravel crunched under their feet. There was one other sound — the faint clang of metal, which she could barely hear.

  “Remember the last time we got together?” Zach was saying. He sounded just as cocky and overconfident as always. At least that’s how he was pretending to sound. “Seems that one didn’t exactly turn out the way you guys wanted, did it?”

  “This time things will be different,” one of the men answered. “Now that we’ve taken care of that little brat brother of yours.”

  Piper caught her breath. They were talking about Elijah. But what did they mean, “taken care of”?

  As the voices headed toward the woman’s van and started to fade, Piper felt herself trembling. The thought of losing one brother was bad enough. But two? Her eyes began burning and she gave them a quick swipe. Cody must have seen it for suddenly he was wrapping a warm, comforting arm around her.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ll get them.”

  She looked up at his face. She wanted to ask how, and when, but her throat was so thick with emotion that she couldn’t speak.

  Elijah wasn’t sure how he wound up on the giant stage screaming into the microphone. To be honest, he hardly spoke to anyone. But now he was singing to them, to thousands of them.

  And they were loving it.

  As he looked into the blinding lights he saw them screaming, shouting, trying to reach up to the stage to touch him. Him! Little Elijah Dawkins. Elijah Dawkins the runt. Elijah Dawkins, the boy nobody paid attention to.

  He looked over to see his lead guitarist leap into the air, sweat flying off his body, as he made his instrument scream like some tortured animal. Off to his left, a keyboard player’s long wet hair whipped back and forth as his fingers raced across the keyboard. Behind him, the drummer pounded out an intoxicating rhythm that shook the entire auditorium.

  Elijah leaned back into the microphone and shouted out the next lyrics.

  Guys pounded their fists into the air to the rhythm of the beat.

  Girls screamed, fainted, held out their hands to him.

  They all sang the words along with him, idolizing him, wanting to be him.

  It was heaven. Better than heaven. One hundred thousand fans adoring him.

  Loving him.

  He caught a glimpse of himself on the giant TV screen above the stage. No longer was he little Elijah trapped in his puny body. With his shirt off, he looked incredible. Sweat glistening off his chest and bulging biceps, streams running down the chiseled muscles of his stomach. No wonder they loved him.

  He looked like a god.

  He pulled his focus back to the fans who were reaching up to him, begging him for the slightest touch. How could he refuse such devotion? Without hesitation, he ran to the edge of the stage and leapt into the air. They would catch him, he knew it. They would do anything for him.

  He landed on a hundred eager, outstretched hands, all grateful for the contact, all grateful to pass his body across the crowd, skimming their surface, like a surfer on the water.

  So much adoration. So much love. So much worship.

  And it was all for him.

  Willard sat on a fallen log having a good old-fashioned pity party. Actually, he wasn’t having the party yet. He was still working on the guest list, wondering which wild animal would be the first to eat him. It wasn’t that Willard didn’t like the wilderness. He just wasn’t exactly an animal lover.

  Some say it was because of the cute little puppy his parents bought him when he was four years old. The cute little puppy that loved to chew and tear up all Willard’s favorite shoes … especially when Willard was wearing them.

  Others say it was from the ant farm that he slept with because he loved it so much … until he accidentally rolled over and broke it. Actually, it wasn’t the “breaking” that was difficult. It was the little critters crawling all over him as he slept that caused the problem — if you call six years of nightmares about being attacked by giant ants and five years of therapy a problem.

  Finally, there was the incident of the sea gull landing on the patio bug zapper, spilling all the dead insects into his cup of chocolate milk. Unfortunately, nobody knew what happened until Willard started wondering why the chocolate milk had suddenly turned so crunchy.

  All that to say, Willard was not thrilled with any type of wildlife, bug or animal, crawly or crunchy. This would explain why he practically leaped out of his skin when a voice called to him from behind:

  “Hey there, young fella.”

  “AUGH!” He spun around to see an old hermit, complete with a scraggy beard, approaching.

  “Sorry.” The old man chuckled. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” />
  “Who … who are you?”

  “Who I am ain’t important. But my problem is.”

  Willard checked out the old guy — plaid shirt, torn jeans, suspenders. He was so skinny a strong gust of wind would blow him over. Definitely not the kidnapper type. And definitely not a threat (unless he collected ants or had a bug zapper). Still, Willard wasn’t going to take any chances. “What … what type of problem?” he asked.

  The old man approached. “You know anything about computers?”

  “Well, yeah, that’s kinda like my specialty.” Willard pushed up his glasses and gave an asthmatic cough as if proving his point.

  The hermit nodded. “Thing is, I got all this newfangled computer equipment in my cabin over yonder and I don’t know the first thing ’bout using it.”

  “You have computer equipment?” Willard asked. “Out here?”

  The man nodded. “Figured it’s about time I enter the twentieth century.”

  “Actually,” Willard corrected, “we’re in the twenty-first century now.”

  “The twenty-first century! When did that happen?”

  “Awhile back.”

  “Shoot. See how fast time flies when you ain’t payin’ attention?”

  Willard gave half a nod.

  “So you think you can help me out?”

  Willard didn’t answer, but continued staring at him. Because, despite the man’s age, his scraggly beard, and worn clothes, there was something strangely familiar about him.

  “Come on, son, we ain’t got all day. It’s gonna get dark soon.”

  Willard frowned, still trying to decide. He knew what his folks said about hanging out with strangers. But this guy was so old and frail that he couldn’t possibly be dangerous. And he was right, it was getting dark — and cold.

  “How … how far is your cabin?”

  “Just over yonder a piece.”

  Willard continued to think.

  The old man gave a sigh. “Well, listen, if you ever decide to make up your mind,” he turned and started back up the path, “just let me know and I’ll — ”

  “No, wait!” Willard interrupted.

  The man turned back.

  Willard tried to sound less panicky. “What I mean is, I think I can squeeze you into my schedule.”

  The old-timer broke into a grin that showed more gums than teeth. “Well, that would be real neighborly.” He turned and limped back up the path. “We’d best get a move on.”

  Willard scrambled to catch up.

  “With any luck maybe we’ll get inside ’fore supper time.”

  “Supper time?” Willard asked. “I wasn’t planning on eating dinner with you.”

  “Oh, not me, son,” the old man chuckled. “The animals. With any luck, we’ll get inside before they decide to have us for supper.”

  Willard nodded and picked up his pace.

  “What are you doing to my husband?” Mom leapt from her wheelchair and started across the ER toward Dad.

  “Grab her!” the doctor ordered.

  The ambulance attendant reached out and caught Mom’s arm, pulling her back to the chair. “Ma’am, you’ll have to — ”

  “Let go of her!” Dad tried to rise from the gurney to help.

  “Somebody hold him down!” the doctor yelled.

  A big hulk of an intern pressed Dad’s shoulders back onto the gurney.

  “Get off me! Get — ”

  “Give me his arm!” the doctor yelled. “Hold it steady!”

  The intern gripped Dad’s arm and held it as the doctor prepared the hypodermic needle.

  “Let go of me!” Mom yelled at the ambulance attendant. Then at the doctor. “What are you doing to him?!”

  Dad continued to fight, but he was no match for the giant intern.

  “What are you doing?!” Mom cried. “He doesn’t need anything! He’s just — ”

  The doctor inserted the needle into Dad’s arm and emptied the syringe.

  Mom went wild, “Mike, Mike …”

  It was all the attendant could do to hold her in the chair.

  “Michael!” She watched in horror as Dad’s eyelids began to droop.

  “It’s all right,” he mumbled. His whole body began to relax. “Everything’s all …” He closed his eyes. “Every …” His jaw went slack and his head rolled to the side.

  “Michael … !”

  But he no longer answered.

  “What did you do?!” Mom yelled. “He didn’t need that! It was just a bump on the head! What did you give him?!”

  “Just a little something to help him sleep.” The doctor reached for another syringe from a steel tray and crossed to her. “You seem a little tense as well, my dear.”

  “Tense! You just gave my husband a shot of who knows what! You bet I’m tense! And I’m mad! I’m real — ”

  “Yes,” the doctor said, raising the syringe to the light and tapping out the air bubbles. “You must be going into shock from the accident.” He came closer.

  Mom grew cold. “What … what are you doing?”

  “I think you need something to help you relax.”

  “Relax! I don’t need anything to relax!”

  “Of course, you do. Just listen to yourself — shouting, screaming, near hysteria.” He glanced toward the ambulance attendant. “Hold her good and tight.”

  The attendant protested, “But Doctor — ”

  “Do as I say or get out.”

  “But — ”

  The doctor had enough. He motioned over to the big intern to come and help with Mom. The man understood and joined them. He grabbed her shoulders and pressed her firmly into the chair.

  “Let go of me! LET GO!”

  The doctor swabbed her left arm. “This won’t hurt a bit. I give you my word.”

  “LET GO OF — ”

  The needle punctured her skin and Mom felt a slight burn. She watched in shock as the syringe emptied into her arm. Again she tried squirming, kicking. But her body began to feel strangely heavy.

  “Let go of …”

  Like Dad, her lids began to droop.

  “There we go,” the doctor said as he removed the syringe.

  She looked up to him, saw him smiling down at her, his face blurring.

  “That’s it, just relax. Close your eyes.”

  She tried to keep them open, but they were so heavy.

  “It really does no good to resist. Just relax.”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe closing them for just a second would help. She did, then immediately forced them back open. Now, the entire room was a blur. To clear it, she closed her eyes again.

  This time, however, she did not have enough strength to reopen them. Or to remember why she wanted to.

  Chapter Five

  Dark Times

  “What’s this?” Cody bent to the ground and picked up the RV keys with his uninjured hand.

  “I thought I heard Zach drop something,” Piper said. “You think he did it on purpose?”

  Cody headed for the door. “Well, he’s definitely given us a way to rescue him.”

  “Right,” Piper agreed as Cody shoved the key into the lock and it clicked open. “Now all we need to do is find them.”

  Cody pushed open the door, and they stepped into the RV. “It was a smart call getting an ambulance to pick up your folks,” he said. “So was the idea of us splitting up and circling back.”

  Piper nodded. “Must be some kind of record.”

  “Record?”

  “For Zach to be right two times in the same day.”

  For a second, Cody broke into that heartbreaker smile of his. Even now, even in this awful situation, Piper felt her stomach do a little flip-flop.

  “Hey, check it out.” Cody had made his way back to the table and the computer Willard had been using. “Looks like we got another message.”

  Piper joined him and read the monitor:

  Guys, they got Zach.

  IM me when you get this!

  Wil
lard.

  Cody frowned. “I thought Willard was with them.”

  Piper slid behind the computer. “All we did was hear voices. We never saw any faces.”

  She reached for the keyboard and began to type. At least she tried. But with Cody watching she felt self-conscious and made tons of mistakes. Why did he have to keep watching when she needed to concentrate?

  Finally, she got it right:

  This is Piper. Where are you?

  A moment later the answer appeared:

  In the woods with some old hermit guy

  and lots of very cool computer stuff.

  “He’s still in the woods?” Cody asked.

  Piper typed:

  You’re right — they got Zach. Took him in their van.

  We don’t know where.

  Almost immediately the answer came back:

  This guy’s got major state of the art stuff.

  I can patch into satellites and search

  the roads. They can’t be far. Stand by.

  Piper stared at the screen, then looked up to the driver’s seat. Finally, she turned to Cody. “You think you can drive this thing?”

  He held up his bad arm, wincing at the movement. “Not with this.”

  She blew the hair out of her eyes. “So even if we know where he is, we can’t get to him.”

  “Why don’t you drive?”

  “I’ve never even driven a bumper car,” she admitted.

  “Then it’s about time to learn.”

  She hesitated.

  “Really, I can’t drive like this,” Cody said. “You’re going to have to.”

  Piper wanted to fire off a snappy comeback, but it was hard to be clever when the little flip-flops in her stomach were tying it into one giant knot of fear.

  Elijah looked out into the glaring lights and the mass of people shouting and screaming for his attention. The longer he looked, the deeper he saw into their hearts. And the deeper he saw, the more he realized the truth.

  They weren’t shouting and screaming for him — at least not on the inside. Something much greater was happening. Beyond the music. Beyond the concert. Deep inside their souls, a different screaming was going on. Not for him, but for something much more serious. They were searching to fill their emptiness. To fill that awful loneliness they felt when they were by themselves, when they were alone in the silence, when they wondered if anybody really cared.