The visitors, p.12
The Visitors, page 12
Will bit down on his lower lip. That always seemed to help him decide what to do when he was confused. At first, Will didn’t trust the invitation. Why should he, after all Frankie had put him through at school this year? But what if they wanted to apologize? What if they really did just want to hang out? Being way out here, far away from school, where Frankie was always showing off for his friends, Will didn’t see him as the same threat somehow.
So Will decided to give them a chance, and turned his bike toward the winnowing barn.
15
A WRITHING MASS of shadows has blocked our path to the front door.
As frightened as the visitors are right now, seeing normal shadows moving in such abnormal and aggressive ways, they don’t have any idea how dangerous the things really are. The shadow snakes are part of Culpepper’s dark army, and they’ve been roused into battle by his presence in the house.
“Don’t let them touch you,” I call out.
“Why?” Thomas calls back urgently. “What can they do?”
“Just trust me!”
I look over at Mateo standing beside me. His breathing is shallow, and the color has drained from his face, but not by the grip of a shadow snake. His eyes are hazy, like he’s having trouble focusing or like he might pass out. His sister holds on to his arm, and Thomas holds on to hers.
I run and sail over the shadow snakes blocking our exit.
“Jump over them,” I yell back at the visitors. And then to the dog, “Come on, Goldie!”
They follow my commands without question, Goldie leading the charge with two decisive barks. She runs in my direction and leaps over the shadows, but they don’t seem all that interested in her. Thomas and Maya help Mateo into position. His breathing still labored, he stumbles a little. He locks his gaze on me. Letting go of Thomas and Maya, he takes a few quick strides in my direction. A shadow snake coils in front of him, striking just as Mateo jumps. The thing misses his foot only by a couple of inches. He makes it over with a messy landing.
Thomas and Maya hold hands. They’re going to go together, and it’s a good thing, because the shadows are closing in. They run and jump. Thomas makes it over. So does Maya. But she lands too close to the border of shadows. One of them reaches out, snatching her ankle and coiling around it. The thing jerks her downward. She lands hard on her stomach, losing her grip on Thomas’s hand. She immediately starts clawing at the wood floor as the shadow slowly drags her back into the front room by her ankle. She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing comes out. Her face is a mask of terror as she looks up at us, her eyes pleading.
Thomas and Mateo lunge for her, each grabbing a hand and trying desperately to pull her back into the foyer. They don’t gain any ground at all, as now a second shadow snake coils around Maya’s other ankle. A wave of panic rolls over me. I have no idea what to do. I can’t help the boys pull Maya free. Me touching her would just make things worse. I watch her eyes closely. They’re beginning to gray. Thomas and Mateo probably don’t even notice it, but a tiny bit of her soul is already gone.
Goldie hasn’t stopped barking and jumping around since the shadow snakes began their attack, and now it’s like she’s barking orders at the boys about how to save their friend. Finally, Maya starts moving in the right direction. Thomas and Mateo scoot backward on their butts, using their whole bodies in the struggle. But they don’t give an inch of the ground they’ve gained. Their faces strained and sweating, they pull with everything they have.
Finally, Maya rockets forward, the shadow snakes losing their grip on her ankles. They all scramble to their feet, though Maya is moving a little slower than usual.
I lead them through the front door and out into the storm. Or, I guess I should say, away from one storm and right into the middle of another. But I’ll take nature’s fury over Culpepper’s and his dark army of shadows any day of the week. I just need to get the visitors somewhere safe.
The Reaper stands its ground, facing down the storm, branches snapping violently back and forth, slinging gobs of soaking Spanish moss here and there. The rain has turned the sandy yard into a swampy mush. Goldie and Thomas run beside me, the boy’s shoes sinking and then rising from the soggy ground with each step. Like two big suction cups trying desperately to keep hold of the earth. Or like Hollow Pines trying to pull him down to hell.
The rain seems to have picked up since the moment we left the manor house. Thunder growls at us from above. Lightning brightens the dim sky, not with violent streaks anymore, but with quick, stuttered whole-sky flashes. Like the world’s light bulb is dying and will soon leave us altogether.
I guide the visitors across the yard to the schoolhouse, because it’s the closest building to the manor house. I’m sure Teacherman won’t mind us hiding out there for a while. Plus, he knows Jackson Culpepper the Third better than most, himself once the target of Culpepper’s rage and retribution.
“Where are we going?” Thomas shouts at me through a thick wall of wind and rain.
I look over at him, resisting the urge to grab his arm and pull him along faster. I point to the small brick structure in our path. Goldie trots ahead, bounding up the few steps. She waits for us on the porch of the schoolhouse, shaking the rain loose from her matted fur. The visitors scramble up the steps and take a second to catch their breath. Mateo leans forward, hands on his knees and chest heaving. He takes his time inhaling for a few seconds. He holds his breath a few seconds more, and then exhales. Maya pats his back, coaching him with soothing words. Her face has regained its color and her eyes are back to normal. The shadows didn’t have hold of her long enough to do any lasting damage, I don’t think. If they’d had her longer, they could have drained her of her soul entirely if that’s what Culpepper commanded them to do.
“What were those things?” Thomas raises his voice enough to be heard over the noise of the wind, the rain, and the rumbles of thunder.
His chest rises and falls like his next breath might be his last.
“I call them shadow snakes,” I tell him.
The visitors stare blankly at me.
“They’re soul-stealers,” I say flatly.
Thomas leans in. “They steal souls? How is that even possible?”
Maya hugs herself. “I felt them.” Her voice is small. “I don’t know how, but I felt them inside me. Like they were crawling around under my skin.”
I nod at her. “They’re a part of Culpepper, his darkness. Remnants of souls he’s stolen over the years. They’re bound to him. Like prisoners.”
“Culpepper?” Mateo says.
I look back toward the manor house, feeling exposed. We’ve been out here too long. Goldie looks up at me with a cocked head and a little whine, like she agrees.
“We need to go inside,” I say, with a hand on the doorknob.
“Wait—who was that screaming in the house?” Thomas asks, his voice raised and pitched higher.
“You said you were alone,” Maya adds sharply. “You lied to us. Were you the one who slashed our tires too?”
Thomas looks from her to me. He already knows about the tires, and maybe he feels guilty for not telling Maya and Mateo. But I don’t know what to say. I guess it’s obvious to them now that I’m the one who did it.
Mateo looks up at me again. His eyes grow cold and angry as he glares at me. “You did that?” He straightens his spine as he takes one more deep breath through his nose. His lower lip trembles as he exhales through his mouth. “Why would you do that? Now we’re stuck here. And there’s someone inside that house. Maybe more than one someone. And are you even real or not?”
That last question surprises me. It stings a little too.
Am I real or not?
The thing is, I guess I don’t really know the answer. So I don’t say anything at all. And we don’t have time for this anyway.
I push through the door, waving Goldie and the human visitors into the schoolhouse. Even though I don’t think they trust me now, they hurry inside anyway, and I close the door behind us. Teacherman is there, as always. He’s calmly writing dates on the blackboard. Looks like dates of wars or some such. Teacherman likes to teach about wars. He always says there’s a lot to learn from wars, but that doesn’t make any sense to me. Seems like the only thing we should learn from wars is not to have them.
“Ah,” he says before turning around, already visible to the living. He prefers that state of being. “Lessons aren’t until tomorrow, boy, but if you are so eager to learn, I suppose we should put that curiosity to good use.”
He places the chalk on the ridge at the bottom of the blackboard and turns to face us. He takes us all in, one by one. Goldie inches over to him, sniffs his hand, and sneezes.
“Goldie,” Thomas calls to her.
She trots obediently back to him and sits at his side.
“Um . . . who is that?” Mateo says with a shaky voice.
At least his breathing is back to normal and the color has returned to his face. Maya stares at Teacherman like he has three heads. I walk up to the front of the class and stand beside him.
“This here is Teacherman,” I say, like that should be the most obvious thing in the world.
I realize that I don’t know his real name. Never had a need to know it. The lost souls around here have always just called him Teacherman, and I never thought to ask him.
“These are my new friends, sir,” I say, all respectful-like. “Thomas, Maya, Mateo, and the dog’s name is Goldie.”
Teacherman strokes his pointy chin with his thumb and index finger. “I see.”
The visitors don’t move an inch. I know they’re wondering if Teacherman is like me, even though they probably already suspect that he is. Why else would a teacher in old-timey-looking clothes be holding classes on a deserted plantation on a Saturday in the middle of a storm? I remember how strange I thought it all was, too, when I first came to be stuck here.
“Sir,” I say, “Culpepper is about. I’m afraid he might be after the visitors.”
That draws the attention of Thomas, Maya, and Mateo. They stare at me, eyes wide and tinged with fear.
“Who is Culpepper?” Thomas asks, a hint of irritation in his voice.
“And what do you mean, after us?” Mateo adds.
I sigh. “Jackson Culpepper the Third. He was once the owner of Hollow Pines. Now he’s a dark spirit who preys on the living.”
The visitors stare back at me. I can see on their faces that they’re trying their best to process what I’m saying. But I know that to them it doesn’t make a lick of sense. It didn’t to me at first either.
“What does he want with us?” Maya asks a little timidly, hugging herself tight, as if she can still feel the shadow snakes crawling around inside her.
I glance up at Teacherman. He has a pained look on his face, and he doesn’t offer me any help in explaining this to them. So I look back at the visitors.
“He collects souls,” I say, an air of defeat in my voice that I didn’t mean to put there. “He’s especially fond of the souls of children. His son died when he was just a baby. Culpepper kind of lost it after that. He uses the shadow snakes to steal the souls and then he feeds on them. That’s why he’s so powerful.”
Teacherman looks down his long, thin nose at me. “Miss Rebecca? Is she all right?”
I shrug, because I don’t rightly know why Miss Rebecca screamed earlier or if she’s all right now or not. Culpepper has the power to wring a lost soul’s spirit out like a dish rag, twisting and twisting until you’re choking on all the sadness and bad memories of your time in the living world. He hasn’t done it to me—yet—but it sounds just terrible. That could be why Miss Rebecca screamed. He’s made her relive the moment she found baby Ford dead in his crib over and over again. Evil always preys on the weakest.
Teacherman nods once, looking at the door. “And these friends of yours? Have they met Culpepper yet?”
“No, sir,” I say, shaking my head.
Teacherman rubs his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Well, he doesn’t usually darken my door, so you should all be safe here for the moment.”
“Usually?” Mateo’s voice cracks on the word.
Maya shushes him. She’s back to herself now. So is Mateo. Thomas is still quiet, though.
“Thank you,” I say.
Teacherman gives me a tight smile and a quick nod. “So, Battle of Hastings, boy?”
Teacherman can’t help himself. He has to quiz me every time he sees me. But I also get the feeling he’s trying to calm us down, distract us. And I think that’s real nice of him.
“That would be 1066, sir,” I say.
“The Battle of Waterloo?” he snaps back.
“The Battle of Waterloo was in 1815,” I say, eyeing the door, hoping Teacherman is right about Jackson Culpepper not darkening it.
“And when was the Treaty of Paris signed?” Teacherman asks.
“September 1783,” I answer confidently.
The visitors look back and forth between me and Teacherman. I guess this all seems pretty weird to them. But this is just normal Teacherman stuff.
“Excuse me, sir,” I say to Teacherman. “But my friends are working on a school project of their own.”
That seems to shake Thomas out of his stupor. He steps forward, kind of bowing a little to Teacherman.
“Yes, sir,” he says, and then nods over at me. “We’d like to interview him some more. If you don’t mind us taking up your time.”
Teacherman narrows his eyes at Thomas, exhaling slowly. “Is that right? Well, I suppose that would be acceptable.” He looks back at me, a haze of unease tinting his eyes. “But keep your voices down.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a respectful nod.
I wave the visitors over to some old wooden desks in the front of the classroom. They all take seats, Thomas placing the Tascam recorder on top of his desk. I stand in front of Thomas, Maya, and Mateo. Thomas points one of the little silver microphones on top of the recorder in my direction and the other back at himself. Teacherman leans in cautiously to inspect the Tascam. Then he retreats to the blackboard, watching us closely. Goldie plops down on the floor at my feet with a weary groan, but it’s nice that she chose a spot closer to me than anyone else. Another clap of thunder sounds outside. The wind rattles through the few remaining windowpanes, like chattering teeth. Goldie lifts her head to check out the noise and then lays it back down on the floor.
When the Tascam’s red light comes on, I speak up before Thomas has a chance to ask me a question.
“You mentioned a name earlier,” I say anxiously, not knowing how much time we have before Culpepper finds us. “Ronnie Cribb.”
Thomas shares a look with Maya and Mateo that I can’t read.
“Yeah,” Thomas says. “Ronnie Cribb was here with Frankie Dimery the day Will disappeared.”
The name Ronnie Cribb feels so familiar rolling around in my head, but I can’t put my finger on why it feels so familiar. Memories start bubbling up to the surface of my brain as I ponder the names over and over.
Will Perkins.
Frankie Dimery.
Ronnie Cribb.
“You said something about a winnowing barn.” Thomas with the newscaster voice is back in action. “What happened there?”
“I can’t remember,” I say, shaking my head. “Not everything, I mean. Just that I was there when Will Perkins died.”
The word died fell out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. Before I even knew it was rising in my throat. Another bit of memory was loosed, and one I can’t fully explain. I feel Teacherman’s eyes boring into the side of my head. I turn to meet his gaze, but his face is like stone.
“Wait,” Maya says, not letting me get away with my slipup. “The sheriff told us that a body was never found. How are you so sure Will died?”
Avoiding their eyes, I stare at the floor and stay quiet. But her words rattle something loose deep inside me.
A body was never found.
How could that be? I was there. And now I remember that Will died somehow because of me. A sudden wave of sadness washes over me as the memories buried deep in my brain fight to free themselves. Will never did anything to me, but I turned on him because I was scared. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to die. He had his whole life ahead of him and I somehow robbed him of that. I stay quiet, hoping they will just drop it, so I don’t have to say the words out loud that I now know are true, even if I don’t remember the details. Maya won’t let it go, though.
“How do you know he died?” she asks, louder and more impatiently now.
I look up at the visitors. They’re all staring at me, waiting for me to say something. So is Teacherman. They’re all so still it doesn’t even look like they’re breathing. And I can tell they’re not going to let this go. So I take a deep breath and let it out slowly like Mateo was doing before.
“I know he died,” I say finally, “because I killed him.”
16
THE DOOR OF the schoolhouse crashes open, interrupting the painful memories and the story I was telling the visitors. The wind sails in through the gaping door, filling the room with a putrid, suffocating blast of air. Shadow snakes spill in, slithering in all directions. Maya, Mateo, and Thomas scramble out of their seats and we all crowd behind Teacherman at the blackboard. Goldie crouches in front of us, hair rising along her spine and a ferocious bark filling her throat as she snaps at the approaching shadows. Heavy footfalls sound on the porch, silencing Goldie on a dime. She whimpers, sidling up to Thomas protectively. The shadow snakes retreat to the corners of the room as quickly as they’d charged in.
