Adermoor Cove: Sanctuary - 7. Chapter 6

The cave smelled of things that had been tucked away in the dark for too long: dusty, moldy. Damp, chilly. Carlos felt his nostrils flare, working to adjust to the smell. Already he yearned for the fresh, piney smell of outside.

The darkness was thick, absolute. The beam of the flashlight illuminated the sides of the tunnel, and the ceiling, with stalactites hanging down like pointed teeth. But the darkness before them was impenetrable. There was no telling how long the tunnel went on for. For the moment Carlos was glad for Bill’s presence. It was relieving not to be alone.

He tried to picture Lane walking through the tunnel and wondered how far in he had made it. So far there hadn’t been any other tunnels. Carlos resisted the urge to charge ahead, to leave Bill behind and just keep running until he caught up to Lane. If this was where the darkness came from there was no telling what threats might be in here.

“Do you sense anything?” Carlos’s voice bounced off the walls of the cave.

“It’s breathing,” Bill said in a wondrous voice. “The cave is breathing.”

Carlos scoffed. “What the fuck are you saying?”

Bill came to an abrupt stop, held up a finger. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Carlos. His eyes glinted with fascination. “Can’t you hear it. Just listen. It’s breathing in and out. In and out. In...and...out.”

Carlos shook his head. “I don’t have time for this crazy shit. Just keep walking.”

For the next stretch of their journey through the cave, they were silent. Every so often Bill would break into a fit of coughs, but to his credit he didn’t stop, he kept moving.

It was after maybe an hour or so Carlos glanced down at his watch. He’d been so focused on catching up to Lane he hadn’t thought to keep track of the time. He felt his heart stop. The watch was digital. His old partner at the precinct had bought it for him as a going away present. It was reliable and had never failed him, but now the digital numbers were flickering up and down. First 1, then 5, then 2. What the hell? Carlos thought.

Well what do you expect? he could hear Lane saying. It’s a supernatural fucking cave.

The thought of Lane made his heart speed up. He missed the little shit more and more, with each passing second.

Bill stopped so suddenly Carlos walked into him. The crazy man stood stock still, body as taut and alert as a cat’s.

“What is it?” Carlos asked.

“Did you feel it?”

“No,” Carlos snapped impatiently. “What is it?”

“I just felt a draft of wind. Wait for it.”

There was another one, much stronger. This time Carlos did feel it. The wind whistled through the tunnel, into his face. The air smelled clean, like pine needles and snow. So refreshing compared to the moldy smell inside the cave.

Carlos fought to keep himself calm. We’re getting close to the end of the cave.

After a moment pale daylight filtered into the exit at the end of the tunnel. Carlos lowered his lids as the glow became a glare. Surely it couldn't be morning already. They hadn't been in the cave that long...had they?

They stepped out onto snowy ground. Droplets of melting snow dripped from the branches of trees. It was relieving to see daylight again...but still Lane was not in sight.

Where was he? Better yet, Carlos wondered where were they?

"Are we still in Adermoor Cove?" Bill asked.

Carlos shook his head absently, breathing in the air. He pressed the palm of his glove to his chilled cheek just to make sure he was still solid. He felt ridiculous once he realized what he was doing but one had to be sure.

"We have to be," he said, though he sounded unsure, even to himself. "I don't know where else we'd be. Do you sense anything?"

Bill gave him a hard look through the dark bags around his eyes. "If I did, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

He makes a good point. Carlos drew himself to his full height and leaned forward until he was just inches away. "Because if anything comes for us, I'm going to make sure it eats you while I get away. And if that doesn't happen then I'll make sure you go down with me. I doubt your boss will find your body here."

If Bill was afraid, he didn't show it. Instead he smirked. "Let's go find your boyfriend."

After a few minutes it was clear they were in Adermoor Cove. The woodlands that had been a part of almost every child's past on the island was immediately familiar to Carlos: Certain trees that were older than he was, hills he'd climbed up and down, paths he'd taken. Bill and he had entered the cave to leave Adermoor Cove...just to end back in Adermoor Cove again.

Bill had fallen into a weary silence. He staggered slowly, weaving from side to side. No matter how much he hated the man for trying to kill Lane, Carlos didn't have the heart to tell him to go faster. He was conflicted: Bill was slowing him down but he couldn't just let the man go; he was too dangerous. And too valuable.

"Stop," Bill said abruptly. His eyes were fixed on something straight ahead. Something Carlos could not see.

"What is it?" Carlos felt his blood thin.

"Something ahead - coming straight towards us. I don't know what it is but I can feel it."

Carlos cradled his shotgun and raised it up slightly. His eyes scanned the trees ahead of him, but everything was still. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for things to unfold.

They came from the left and right and collided in the middle of the path, antler clashing together. It took a Carlos a second to realize what they were: two bucks. They were fighting. Why they were fighting didn't really matter to Carlos at the moment. What was attracting his eye was the malignant black growth covering their sides and flanks. Just like the bear that had taken Ramona and killed his father.

Carlos and Bill watches the two bucks fight each other, their movements frantic and violent with the obvious intention to kill one another. They tore into each other with the sharp ends of their antlers, bashed at each others' skulls with their hooves. Instead of bleeding blood, they bled the thick black substance Carlos had become all too familiar with.

Then the creatures stopped fighting and stared straight at Bill. There was an intelligence in their eyes that belonged to no animal. More of the fluid seeping from the wounds was running from the corners of their eyes.

Bill was whispering to himself - no not to himself, to them - and nodding his head, but Carlos couldn't understand what he was saying.

Carlos cocked the shotgun at Bill, just in case. "Uh, Bill, are you talking with the deer?"

Before Bill could respond, one of the bucks made a beating sound and charged at Carlos. Carlos barely had enough time to turn and fire the shotgun. At the exact same time the crack exploded through the trees, dark blood exploded from the front of the deer’s chest.

The full weight of the second deer pounced on Carlos from the other side, pinning him to the ground. Before the buck could eviscerate him with its antlers, Carlos pressed the muzzle of the 12-gauge to its belly. The sound of the shotgun going off was only slightly muffled; not a second later, a torrent of rotting, writhing gore, downpoured on Carlos’s chest.

He was instantly assaulted by the most wretched smell imaginable. He gagged, resisting the urge to wipe at his eyes. It was all over his hands. His head was full of screaming fire alarms and bells. Is it in my eyes? Is it in my mouth? Am I going to turn?

Slowly, he peeled his eyes open. He had no choice. Fortunately there was no muck in his eyes. The dead weight of the deer had him pinned into the snow. Bill was walking around in circles, jabbering to someone Carlos couldn’t see. Carlos was tempted to ask for help, but then decided to do so would be idiotic: There was the chance Bill would realize the advantage of Carlo’s current perdicament, and take off.

With a grunt, Carlos managed to get his hands underneath the dead carcass and heave it off him. Coils of intestines, and wiggling parasites plopped into the snow. Bill stopped his pointless jabbering and turned to look at the state of the Sheriff.

“You’re a mess,” he said. “The source of the darkness is close. I can feel him. He was talking to me through the deer...telepathically...right before they attacked you.”

“What did the darkness tell you?”

“He has Lane.”

Carlos felt his heart come to an immediate stop. “What?”

“They’re not far from here.”

“You have to take me to him.”

“Are you sure you want to go there? Is Lane really worth it?” Bill was looking at Carlos as if he was some form of insect he’d never seen before.

“Is your daughter worth it?” Carlos asked.

“She is,” Bill said quietly. Carlos thought he heard a slight tremble in his voice.

“Then you have your answer.”

                    …

Less than an hour later, they broke through the trees and stepped out onto the Sterling property. The house looked exactly the same as Carlos remembered...and not. There were vines growing along the side of the house, almost like ivy. The vines spread this way and that, like veins. Even the windows were covered in them. Some mad, morbid part of Carlos wanted to go inside and see what horrors he might find, but the rational part of himself that knew time was of the essence resisted.

The sight of Donovan Road was a small, familiar comfort. He knew where the road led: In one direction, the town, and in the other the lighthouse. He knew the lighthouse awaited them at the end of the road - and hopefully - Lane and the darkness would be there, waiting for them as well.

Night was beginning to overtake day: The sky bled, the clouds becoming more wispy, the shadows growing longer. In the middle of the road they came across an overturned truck. A corpse laid on the ground, hanging half sprawled out of the pickup truck, the other half on the road. Carlos stopped, wondering if he would recognize who it was, but the face had been horribly mutilated: the eyes had been pecked out, the face - what remained of it - was a tattered mess of stringy scraps of flesh, blood, and bone. Only the clothes, a button up plaid shirt and crimson-splattered faded blue jeans gave clue to the unfortunate victim’s gender. The wildlife had gotten to the body long ago.

Several yards later Carlos spotted a tractor facedown in a ditch. Crows observed them from atop a telephone pole. Carlos remained tense until they were out of sight, afraid they might swoop down and attack him.

At last Bill and he came to the lighthouse.

Before, the lighthouse always had a bewitching, if not slightly haunted quality. Carlos remembered the sense of unease when he had explored the inside not long after Vanessa Stanton’s death, when he had been attacked by the insect - God, how long ago that seemed to him now.

But now it looked like something straight from a nightmare. The windows of the house were dark. Vines of the darkness that had covered Ramona Sterling's house, crawled up all sides of the tower like kudzu. This was where the darkness waited for them.

The sight of the lighthouse was repellant. The thought of facing whatever was inside terrified Carlos. But he knew there was no turning around and going back.

Not without Lane.

Something's not right.

Lane was in his bedroom. It looked a lot like his bedroom back at the lighthouse: rock band and movie posters, clothes strewn everywhere. It was his childhood bedroom, the one he knew Nora had preserved years after he had moved out.

No, I didn't move out. I ran away.

He closed his eyes, tried to think back to the last thing he remembered. At first everything was murky, his mind heavy with disorientation, but after a moment’s concentration he was able to retrace events. He remembered he had stepped through the cave...Carlos had tried to stop him, pleaded with him not to go. Already Lane regretted the decision, but in the end he’d known what had to be done. And he took comfort in knowing there was no way Carlos could come after him. Not with the cave gone.

He’d stepped into the cavern, into darkness. He’d walked for what seemed like forever until finally he came to a light at the end of the tunnel and stepped into woodland...And then blank.

And now I’m in my old bedroom.

Lane wasn’t sure how long he sat in his childhood bed, trying to dispel the illusion. He scanned the room carefully with his eyes, waiting for a concealed threat to attack him, but everything was still.

He ran the fabric of the blanket draped across his lap beneath his fingers. The blanket felt real. And so did the mattress he was sitting on. He almost believed if he called for her, Nora would hear him from the bedroom on the left side of the hallway, just before they reached the bathroom.

You can’t just lay here forever, waiting for something to happen. You came here to face the darkness. No sense in drawing things out.

“Okay,” Lane whispered to himself. The side of his face glowed in the moonlight streaming through the window - it too seemed very real. Slowly, he threw back the blankets and climbed out of the bed. He wore a Led Zeppelin shirt and black basketball shorts. He remembered Craig Hardy getting him the shirt one day - they’d been having “a guy’s day out.” He remembered Craig taking him to the racetrack in Speedway; then they’d stopped at the Hot Topic in Greenwood Mall, Lane’s favorite store. The memory felt unreal to Lane, the way old memories sometimes do. The memory of a stranger.

I still have the T-shirt, Lane thought. It’s sitting in my bedroom closet back at the lighthouse. There’s a hole at the top. He looked down, felt for the little hole with his fingers just to make sure, but the hole wasn’t there. Something else was going on.

The hallway was dark. His eyes were just adjusted enough he could see the bathroom door at the end of the hallway and Nora’s bedroom directly to the left. He crept down the hallway slowly. There was a strange metallic taste in his mouth. He was afraid to swallow, breathe, afraid a single beat of his heart would give him away. Though there still was nothing dangerous in sight, Lane couldn’t shake the feeling something dangerous lurked outside of his perception.

Stop.

He froze several feet away from the bathroom door. There was something in there, waiting for him. And Lane knew if he was going to face the darkness, he would have to go inside.

He stepped through the doorway.

As soon as Lane was in the bathroom hands grabbed him from behind. He felt himself being driven forwards, towards the tub. Even as it was beginning to dawn on him what was happening, things were happening too fast to be able to fight off his attacker. He had just enough time to suck in a deep breath before his head was submerged in cold bath water.

He kicked and thrashed about, splashing water everywhere, but the hands gripping him by the hair of his head was too strong. His lungs yearned for air. He could feel himself beginning to drift. Panicking, Lane drew on the tide, let it flow through his body. It gave him strength in his arms and legs he otherwise wouldn’t have had. He shoved back with his arms and turned to face his attacker...and found himself looking into the face of Craig Hardy.

Of course it wasn’t, Craig Hardy, this he knew. His adoptive father had been dead for over a decade. Lane had killed him in self defense, when the darkness had possessed his father in an attempt to try and kill him. Just as it had possessed so many other people in his life. Nora Hardy, his mother, had staged Craig’s death to look like an accident, by throwing his corpse down the stairs.

The features of his father’s doppelganger were twisted in a seething expression of hate and murderous intent. The lips, blackened, peeled back from chipped, rotting teeth. The eyes gleamed like blackened crystals, boring into Lane. It was as if Craig Hardy had come back from the grave to take his vengeance on Lane. Lane’s eyes were the exact opposite, reflecting the separate force existing within him - they glowed with a misty white light.

The creature charged at Lane, grabbed him by his shoulders. Before Lane could unleash the tide, they fell back into the cold water. Water sloshed over the side of the tub onto the floor. The creature’s hands clamped around his neck, closing the air off to his lungs once more.

Lane raised his hands, pressed them to Craig’s chest, and forced the tide out as hard as he could. Craig was thrown back as if hit by a giant invisible fist. He flew out of the bathroom and out of sight.

Lane clambered to his feet, sopping wet. The room was changing around him, the walls shifting, melting.One minute he was standing in the bathroom of Nora’s apartment; the next he was standing in the tower of the lighthouse. But it was different. Vines of the darkness snaked up the beacon; more patches of the growth covered the floor and walls and around the windows.

Already Craig - or the thing that had taken on Craig’s appearance - was rising to his feet.

“So you’re the one that’s been ruining my life for as long as I can remember?” Lane said. “This is all you have for me? So far I’m a bit disappointed.”

He lashed out with the tide again, as hard as he could. Already a dull throb was taking root in his skull. The more he pushed it the worse the pain would get. The creature was thrown back against the wall once more, this time hard enough to make dust fall from the ceiling. Lane’s mind leapt when he spotted a door to the right. Praying that it would lead to the hallway still, he ran for it.

Craig screamed, his face a ruined mask of flesh and decay and black ichor, and chased after him.