Shifting

Five

It took my eyes a few moments to adjust to the gloom inside the cabin. Heavy blankets blocked out all the windows. A single lantern hanging over the Preacher’s desk illuminated the interior. He saw me looking around at the blocked windows.

“A theory of mine. They are attracted to the light and sounds of human habitation-the wandering ones, that is. Not all of them are lost like those outside, some have great purpose. I’ve started calling the purposeful ones seekers.”

Seekers. I thought of Billy, and of the meter man who had gotten my dad. Had the meter man harbored some kind of hatred for everyone on his route? Or was he just following some last shred of memory from his past life? I recalled that he had taken pains to go after every dog he met. I filed away the Preacher’s theory of seekers and blacked out windows in my growing mental cabinet of survival notes.

Sitting across from him at his desk, I made my report. I told him about Monika and Billy and the three-pointed hoof-prints. As I did so, I pondered how he and a few others in our community had become our leaders. There had never been a vote, or even a discussion. The natural leaders of the group had simply started with suggestions, and soon, in these desperate times, everyone else had followed them. The good Reverend John Thomas was one of our natural leaders.

He nodded in thought when I finished my report. “In the immediate sense, this is good news. We have a new young female in our group-a net gain of population. However, considering the indications as to what is going on in the outside world, things are not so good.”

I showed him the newspapers from Louisville and he pored over them with great interest. I joined him, and we spent half an hour of reading them over and discussing them, like two generals reading over the secret plans of the enemy. The Preacher got up and poured us the coffee he had been brewing. I sipped it carefully; he always made it strong and black. There was never even a hint of my usual preferred sugar or cream, but somehow, I still liked the taste when he made it.

Outside, I thought to hear a skittering sound. It was followed by strange series of padding steps across the porch. It sounded like a dog had jumped up and ran off the porch into the yard. But I knew the Preacher didn’t have a dog. He glanced toward the front door, paused, and when nothing happened, he pointedly ignored it. I followed his example and did the same.

“The breakdown of electronics appears to be centered in this region,” he said. “As are some of the first reports of strange events,” he said. “Very good thinking to bring this in. It supports everything I’ve been puzzling over for the last week or two.”

“And that is?”

“That we are in the center of this, or at least a local center. If you read the reports, they are almost all about changelings in our area. But in other areas, there are different effects.”

“Yes, like the one from England about the shining little men.”

“And reports from California of marching rocks and trees.”

“Yes.” I suppressed a shudder. The thought would have been humorous a few months ago, but now that I had seen so many fantastic things, I was glad I wasn’t facing boulders with huge maws, or trees with grasping branches that lurched, rather than walked, after their tiny, soft, fleshy victims.

“I’ve come to some theories, after poring over many texts, both old and new,” continued the Preacher. He tapped his Bible meaningfully as he said this. I knew, however, he was a broad reader. Lining the walls of his cabin were hundreds of dusty volumes, mostly non-fiction, covering a startling array of subjects.

“I think there must be a source, or sources, to all of this and I’ve found places to start looking.” He spread out an old map on the table between us. The corners were yellowed, stained and there were tears along the fold lines. There were some colored pencil lines drawn here and there around the borders of Redmoor. “Fifty years ago, Lake Monroe was a valley. They dammed up one end of it and built the biggest reservoir in Indiana right here.”

I nodded, every school kid from Monroe County knew this. As he was speaking I realized what the map was. It showed the area before the dam was built, before the area was flooded.

“And you’ve heard of Elkinsville, the flooded town?”

“Of course,” I said. There had even been a special about the town on PBS once, the entire town had been abandoned. “Everyone was moved to a new site.”

He nodded. “The town was drowned and forgotten. But there were other things buried in that Lake out there. Deep hidden things.”

I blinked at him, not knowing where this was going. I could already tell he had some mission in mind and I hoped he wasn’t thinking of putting a diving suit on me. Vaguely, I wondered if there were any changelings in the lake. What if one of them had turned part fish, and was out there waiting for a swimmer?

“Another factor of this part of the country is the limestone. We are famous for our caves in southern Indiana.”

I just looked at him, hoping he didn’t want me to investigate caves. He watched me appraisingly for a moment.

“Gannon, it’s time we took some chances. Cast your bread upon the waters, for you shall find it after many days. We’ve got to take some risks, because what we are doing right now isn’t working. We lose people every day.”

“Okay, but what do you want me to do?”

A great deal of scrabbling came from the roof just then. I raised my eyes to the knotty pine ceiling. Something out there was trying to climb the steep A-frame roof. I could tell, just by listening to the sounds, that the thing had claws. The sounds paused, and I imagined a cat-like animal clinging to the roof, panting from exertion.

I looked back down to the Preacher, who was watching me patiently. Seeing that he had my attention again, he answered my previous question.

“I’ve been seeing more and more of the seeker types. They are much more dangerous than the wandering mindless ones, but at the same time, they are more predictable. One of my ideas is that the more resistant folk tend to turn into seekers when they change. They have more purpose and intelligence, maybe because they have more humanity left in them.”

I frowned a bit, only halfway following him. I kept thinking about Monika, and thinking that if this new mission took too long Vance would be working hard to get her attentions. Why had I let him get away with taking her to the Doctor? And what the hell was climbing up the roof out there?

“When we last gathered in a large group,” he said, “things went badly.”

I nodded, grim-faced. Much of the town’s population had perished in the town’s only school about a month ago. They had plenty of food from the cafeteria, but the big glass windows in the classrooms had proven to be a weak point. A few of them had changed, and then the rest had died in a terrible fire.

“We must do better this time,” the Preacher continued. “I’ve already talked about this with the Captain, Doctor Wilton and Mrs. Hatchell. We need to gather our remaining strength and beat them this time. They are hunting us down. I think there is some kind of method to their madness now, as if they are being led by-something.”

“Something like the thing with the hooves?”

He nodded. “We’ll build a compound, based around the medical center. It’s brick and loaded with supplies. With a fence around it, and strict rules on entry and exit, we’ll keep control of the remainder of our people.”

“How can you be sure some won’t turn and get the rest?”

“I can’t, not really, but look at these lines on the map. These are event lines, where the changes have happened. To the best of our knowledge, the changelings only appear when someone crosses one of these lines.”

I looked at the random red, blue and green lines. They formed an odd multi-faceted pattern around the area. One of them was down on the SR 446, where Billy had turned into a troll.

“The lines don’t even connect,” I pointed out.

“No, they are more like cracks, or fissures, than walls,” he said. “And we aren’t even sure all of these are real. Red lines mean they are well defined with many cases. Blue lines are strong probabilities. Green lines, are maybes-guesses.”

I looked dubious. “Even if we build a fort and can keep people from shifting, what good is life stuck in a fort?”

He nodded. “That’s where you come in.”

I felt my stomach sinking.