Dark Rite

Chapter 20

Grant and Amos hiked through rough country in the shade of the dense forest. Ma's map and Amos's innate local sense of the landscape meant they never worried about reaching their destination, but the trek was longer and more arduous than they had expected. Amos kept reminding Grant that he was an old man and Grant reminded him that for an old man who had been shot the day before, he was doing pretty well.

The day began to wane as they pushed on toward the other side of the mountain. Dusk came early among the high mountain peaks and dense trees. Grant endured the increasing sense of dread that sat in his gut like a rock and threw himself into the physical exertion to help ignore it. He felt like a condemned man, each step bringing him closer to his demise, yet there was something satisfying in that. For the first time in his life he had a true purpose, an unquestionable destiny. And while that destiny almost certainly ended with his death, it gave him a sense of relevance that he had never felt before. If this would be the end of his life, it would be a short life indeed, but one with more experience than many people ever saw in their three score years and ten.

It was near sundown when they finally crested a ridge and saw a deep, narrow valley slicing through the mountain below. Grant pulled Amos to a stop and crouched low in the scrub. He pointed.

“People down there. And look, you can see a dark hole between the trees. A cave entrance?”

Amos squinted through the lowering sun. “Sure looks like it. That fellow there is distant kin to the Stallards, and the pretty thing next to him is his wife.” He sucked his teeth in disapproval. “I thought they was all right. That woman is a Sunday School teacher, and not at the Stallard's church, neither.”

Grant raised an eyebrow. “Really? Seems Ma was right when she said this whole town was in on the thing. How come you've never been drawn into this?”

Amos gestured at his old, wrinkled face. “A black man might have a better life in a town like this than he used to, but he ain't no equal member of society. Too many people got fond memories of segregation, if you catch my drift.” He chuckled ruefully. “I reckon this old skin served me well.”

“Not so much your son, I guess.”

“When Doctor King pictured children of all colors joining hands, this ain't what he had in mind.” Amos looked at the forest floor, and shook his head. “I used to pray that my boy wouldn't have a life like mine, could just be seen as a man like anybody else. Didn't ever think I'd curse society for including him. But Elijah is a good boy. He got proper home training. I don't understand why he did this.”

“Maybe he was desperate to fit in, to be accepted in his home town. And maybe was proud to have succeeded. Only, this town isn't really the kind of society you want to be accepted into.”

Amos nodded, still looking down. “He tried to save me even though he was prepared to give you up. He's brainwashed by these fools, but there's goodness in him yet. I have to believe there is.”

“I'm sure you're right. We'll get him out of this.” Grant winced internally at the inadvertent lie he had told. What chance did he have of surviving this himself, let alone saving Cassie and Elijah too? But he was not about to give up without trying.

They moved along the ridge to get a better view and a track became clear through the trees below. The path wound down the hillside to the cave mouth, where two burly men, both armed, stood guard at either side. The Stallard cousin and his wife went into the caves after a brief friendly chat with the guards, though Grant and Amos were too far away to hear what they discussed.

Revulsion curdled Grant's stomach as he watched these carefree people acting as if this occasion were no more grave than a family picnic. The fact that they were about to do murder seemed not to occur to them, or if it did, they didn't care.

Grant and Amos moved further down, careful to avoid fallen branches that might give them away with a sharp crack in the still air. When they were only twenty yards or so above the guards they hunkered down again. Amos tapped Grant's shoulder, pointed. Two more people made their way along the track.

“Howdy boys,” said one. “It's a fine evening for it, ain't it?”

“You're late,” one of the guards said. “Cuttin' it damn close. Better get inside.”

“Really? We the last to arrive?”

“Pretty much. Everyone else is inside and we're only waiting on Jed and Jesse, then we start.”

Grant's hackles rose at the mention of the Stallard brother's names. He bit down on anger and waited.

“How long till the conjunction?” one on the track asked.

“Half an hour, maybe? Now get inside.”

The men looked at each other, clearly surprised, and hurried in.

Grant turned to Amos, his eyes wide. “I thought we had until tonight,” he whispered.

Amos shrugged. “I guess a planetary alignment don't have to wait for night to be in effect.”

“We have to hurry!”

Amos pointed at the guards still standing by the cave entrance. “And do what?”

Grant fumed. He felt at once empowered by Ma Withers' ministrations, and simultaneously useless and weak. They had one bowie knife between them against a whole town with guns and a demon on their side. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. Ma Withers' words echoed in his memory. Things happen for a reason at their right time, son. You happened for a reason, Cassie did too.

Maybe there was something beyond him on his side and this was the right time. More of Ma's words worried at the back of his mind. Ain't no justice to who prevails in things like this, evil wins out as often as good. Well, fuck it all. There was just as little justice for these evil bastards as there was for him and maybe one angry young man was all the catalyst needed to make a difference.

“I need to get inside,” he whispered. “I've no idea what I can do in there, but I certainly can't do anything from out here.”

Amos nodded, looked along the narrow valley trail. “I'll make you a distraction. Draw those guards away from the cave entrance. When they move, you slip in behind.”

“And what about you?”

“I'm a fair woodsman. I'll take my chances.”

Grant reached out and shook Amos's hand. “Thank you, Amos, really. You've been more than good to me.”

“You just make sure it's worth something, son.”

“We will.”

Amos nodded once and slipped away between the trees without another word.

Grant sat on the dry ground and breathed deeply, trying to prepare himself for whatever he might find inside the cave. The rock of fear and doubt swelled outward, anxiety-fueled energy surging through his chest and limbs. His eyes sharpened and he felt a sense of purpose and clarity of vision unlike anything he had known before. He pulled old Josiah's finger from its tin and it danced and writhed in his grip, gesturing frantically at the cave mouth. He smiled and put it back into his pocket, not bothering with the tin. The furious squirming of it against his hip was empowering. “Come on, Josiah,” he whispered to it. “Let's see if we can't finish this thing.”

A voice rang out from away down the trail. “Hey, you two. Help me here! Jesse's hurt!”

Grant squinted into the trees. From his vantage point he saw Amos away down the trail, doing a passable impersonation of Jed Stallard. The two guards exchanged a surprised look. To Grant's chagrin, only one of them left his post. He saw Amos duck into the trees and hightail it up the valley side, the lone guard moving in his direction. Grant would have to finish the other man.

He picked up a stone the size of his two fists, and looked down at the lone remaining guard, who gazed off in the direction his partner had gone. His pistol was holstered, his thumbs tucked into his belt. If Grant were fast, he had a chance. Hefting the rock, he crept down the slope toward the man below. The soft, loamy earth masked the sound of his approach. He was almost directly above the cave mouth when he dislodged a pebble, sending it bouncing down with a clatter that his nerves amplified into a rumble like a landslide.

The guard turned around, more curious than alarmed. His eyes widened when he saw Grant. He fumbled for his pistol, but Grant was already flying through the air. He brought the rock crashing down on the man's head. The fellow crumpled to the ground, his limp body cushioning Grant's fall.

The guy was too big and too heavy for Grant to do a proper job of it, but he managed to drag the unconscious guard into the nearby underbrush where did a half-assed job of covering him in leaves and pine needles. He helped himself to the man's pistol, a snub nosed .38 revolver. The cylinder was full, but the man carried no spare bullets. Obviously hadn't been expecting trouble. Grant imagined there would be a lot more than six people inside, but it was better than nothing.

With a smile and a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening, Grant slipped into the cool darkness of the cave.