Snapdragon Book II: In the Land of the Dragon Read online

  Algernon did not blink.

  “This is gonna sound crazy…” Jamey warned.

  Algernon nodded a single time, waiting. “No crazier than what’s been happening in town, I guess. So, the more you say, the better off we’ll be, I suppose. So, please…continue, Mr. Argason.”

  Jamey nodded. “Well, Malcolm talked about a man on a horse. He was wearing a top hat, a long black cape.”

  Algernon’s brows angled sharply in consternation.

  “That wasn’t all he mentioned. This thing chasing him, he said, wasn’t…real, if you know what I mean. He said it was some kind of…”

  God, this sounds so ridiculous, he thought. This old man is gonna throw me right out on my ass.

  “Yes?” Algernon said.

  Jamey looked at him. “He said it was…some kind of monster. That it…wasn’t alive.”

  Jamey paused and decided to take a different approach:

  “Anytime you want to throw me out on my ass,” Jamey said. “Just say the word, because I just realized how stupid this sounds. I’ve gone over it in my head a thousand times, and it didn’t sound nearly as crazy to me as it does now. Believe me, if it was me sitting where you are, I think I’d have throw me out on my ass, oh…a few minutes ago, I guess.” Jamey breathed deeply and looked at Algernon. “Mr. Alister?”

  “Algernon.”

  “Algernon,” Jamey said. “And you can call me Jamey.”

  “And Malcolm talked about going after this thing?” Algernon said, ignoring Jamey’s appeal.

  “Not in so many words. He said, ‘This thing has go to be stopped.’ Like he took it upon himself to make sure it was stopped. I just don’t—”

  “—understand how a ten-year-old boy would think he could do it all by himself,” Algernon said. “That’s why he went with his friends. Or why he felt it was his responsibility to begin with.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Jamey said.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Algernon—as hard as it was to believe—was trying to believe him, at least as much as he was able to, something similar to how Jamey felt when Malcolm explained it to him the first time. Jamey had wanted to believe him as well. He knew it was crazy; he shouldn’t believe it, but he wanted to, and he supposed it wasn’t for any other reason than because he was fond of Malcolm. He wasn’t the kind of kid to ‘pull a fast one.’ He was not delusional, nor was he a liar. He was a sane and sensible boy.

  He’d come here with a plan, and he’d acted upon it. Now, he was sitting here in the house of an eccentric old man, and suddenly he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “What do you think we should do?” Algernon asked. “Do you think there’s anything we can do?”

  Jamey shrugged and shook his head. “We could always pack a couple of horses and ride out after them. I’m willing to do that.”

  “People are already looking for them,” Algernon said. “I’m too old for adventures. I think I should stay here in case the boy comes home.” He shook his head, putting a hand to his brow, and rubbed his temples.

  “Do you believe me?” Jamey asked. “I mean…I know it’s crazy. I was just wondering what you thought of a story like that?”

  Algernon looked up. His eyes were pained, haunted. He tried to smile, but it fell short. “I don’t know what to believe. I know a long time ago, I lost my only son, Grant, and my daughter-in-law, Lucia. A year later, I lost my wife. I wasn’t a very good granddad to that boy, and now…” He shook his head. “I can’t bear the thought that I waited too long. That I’m too late.” Jamey wasn’t sure, but he thought the old man was crying.

  Surprising Jamey, Algernon looked up and said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of cocoa, Jamey? Mine is empty. I’m not a drinking man anymore, so booze is out.”

  “Never touch the stuff, either,” Jamey said. “And thank you for the hospitality. A cup of cocoa does me fine.”

  Algernon nodded and got up from his chair. His knees popped. The old man winced. “Getting too old for this,” he said, and tried to smile.

  Jamey stood up from his chair. “Let me help you with that cocoa,” he said, and followed Algernon into the kitchen.

  v

  Frank Allen Bimsley pulled to a stop in front of the house on Maple Drive and turned the engine off. He looked at the house for a second or two before stepping out and shutting the door. He left his hat on the seat. While pulling up, he could barely read the numbers on the house because of the overhanging trees. The place looked as if it were trying to hide from the rest of the world. If it were possible for a house to look unhealthy, the one before him was the place.

  Frank walked around the car to the sidewalk. He stepped onto the pathway, leading to the front porch. The grass was waist high. Broken slabs of concrete wobbled when he stepped on them, thistles growing between the cracks.

  He climbed the steps to the front door and pressed the buzzer. He did not hear a chime from within, so he opened the screen door, and knocked loudly.

  Shortly afterwards, the deadbolt slipped out of place, and—almost violently—the door swung inward.

  Frank Allen Bimsley wasn’t prepared for the sight that met him. He’d been hoping for Gavin to open the door. He’d heard rumors about the boy’s mother, but Frank wanted to see the woman for himself. He had to quell his revulsion when the short, abhorrent thing came into view.

  She took a long, lungful of smoke into her lungs, then blew it out. The woman standing before him looked about as hard as a railroad spike. The years had not been kind to her.

  The smell hit him shortly afterwards, a heavy, offensive odor of alcohol, cigarettes, and unclean skin. She reminded him of the drunks who often had to sleep it off in the tank.

  Frank held his breath, his eyes watering. He had stepped into Macbeth; Scene I. Not a literary man by nature, he remembered the play as a teenager. They’d watched the Polanski version in High School. The darkness of that film was the same darkness oozing out the front door now.

  She wore a long pink T-shirt, which only seemed to pronounce the broken blood vessels on her cheeks and nose, her red-rimmed eyes. Under the red, a yellow tint colored her eyeballs. By the looks of her teeth, he’d say it had been a while since she’d gotten her six-month checkup. Looking beyond her, into the murky house, Frank seemed to stare into the catacombs of a forbidden cave.

  Some trouble at home, he thought.

  Smoke curled around her head. When she spoke, her voice sounded like broken glass on broken stones. “It’s my boy, ain’t it?” the woman said. “Little bastard got up in the middle of the night and disappeared. Wouldn’t be surprised if he was sitting in your jail, Sheriff. He’d better keep his tail between his legs when he comes home, that’s all I gots ta say!”

  Frank could not imagine this woman giving birth, not even ten-years ago. She looked well into her fifties, her sixties even, hurrying through life on a freight train of cocaine, speed, and too much alcohol.

  Problems with his mother…

  Maybe the kids didn’t go off into the night to find a monster after all. Maybe they were helping Gavin run away from home. It seemed—with what he was looking at now—the most plausible explanation.

  “Mrs. Lolly?”

  “I ain’t married no more. That’s Miss Lolly to you, Sheriff. And I don’t see no boy standing beside you, neither, or in your patrol car, so I wonder…where is he? What’s he done? He’s always running off. He always disobeys.”

  She’d provided a lot of information already, and Frank was glad of that. She was making his job easier.

  “Gavin hasn’t done anything, Miss Lolly,” he said. “Several kids turned up missing this morning, and your boy’s name was mentioned. I came by to see if he could provide some information. I take it, though, by your reaction, that he isn’t here?”

  Miss Lolly took a drag from her cigarette. She narrowed her eyes and blew smoke above her head. The look sent a shiver down Frank’s spine.

 
“Uh-huh,” Miss Lolly said. “I see. They helped him run away, did they? Bunch of useless, rotten, good-for-nothing kids. Do you have kids of your own, Sheriff? ’Cause you’d be wise to reconsider. Nothing but a bunch of disrespectin’ little heathens is what they are. Try to show them everything, how much you love ’em, and this is the thanks you get. So, he’s gone then? I’ve been waiting for him to come home. Little bastard’s gonna get it, that’s all I gots to say. He’s been achin’ for some punishment for a long time. Wait ’til I get my hands on ’em!”

  “So, he has been gone all day? You haven’t seen him?”

  “That’s what I just said, ain’t it?”

  Frank nodded. Make it six, he thought.

  “Why didn’t you report it, Miss Lolly?” he said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “I just told you, didn’t I? He’s always running off! Always disappearing! He’s done this a million times before. It’s nothing new. Just been waiting for him to get back. Little brat never does anything I say! Can’t wait ’til he gets home.” She smiled, making Frank shudder. “No, sir! Can’t wait at all.”

  For a second, Frank was actually glad these kids had run away.

  “Miss Lolly,” he said. “It seems Gavin has disappeared with several other kids this morning. We’re not sure why exactly. We have people knocking on doors and checking the meadow. We’re just hoping they don’t turn up like the others.”

  “Well, when you do find him, Mr. Frank Allen Bimsley, you tell him he’s gonna get it when he comes home. His poor, worried mother doesn’t take these things lightly. You tell him that!”

  Frank figured he had all he needed, but as much as he tried to pull away, he wasn’t able to hold his tongue. “Miss Lolly? Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t seem to get along too well with your son, and I have to say, as a man of the law, that concerns me. I wonder, in fact, if there isn’t something you aren’t telling me because I have a hard time believing a boy—living in…well…such conditions—could be such a problem. You seem awfully eager to have him home, and it isn’t to tell him you love him and to hold him tight. I’ve spent the entire day with worried, grief-stricken parents, and I have to say, not a single one of them has displayed the kind of aversion you’ve displayed for Gavin. Now, I can make a call to Child Services, and we can do a little prying around to make sure all is well. If I have reason to believe you are harming your boy, he can and will be taken away from you.”

  Frank gathered his thoughts. The demon in the doorway narrowed its eyes.

  “Miss Lolly?” Frank said. “Do you abuse your son? Do you take drugs?” He knew it wasn’t wise. He’d been tolerating a lot since summer’s end. He wasn’t sure what the woman was because it wasn’t a parent, a mother, and it didn’t seem human in any way Frank recognized. A single word came into his mind when he looked at her. She was a dragon, an undersized fire-breathing dragon, but a dragon all the same. She had all the characteristics. If he reached out, he was afraid he’d touch scales instead of skin.

  Miss Lolly’s expression changed in an instant. She was vengeful and vindictive one minute, sweet and sympathetic the next. “Has anyone been talking to you?” she said, her voice a rasping, choppy scrape. “Has he said anything? My boy and I get along fine, Mr. Frank Allen Bimsley, Sheriff, sir! Just fine! Never was a problem between us. Just when he comes home is all, not telling his mother that he’s gone and done some fool thing. What am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing happened? I’m just dreadfully worried!”

  Frank couldn’t believe it, but Miss Lolly was actually crying.

  “You just don’t understand how hard it can be raising a boy on your own,” she said, wiping her eyes theatrically. “It ain’t been easy for either of us. I get so worried. Since his father left us, Gavin’s always running off! I just get worried, you see?”

  Can’t say I blame him, Frank thought.

  Deirdre Lolly frightened him. She donned a second skin as perfectly as any entertainer.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, nodding, not remembering what she’d said. If he needed to investigate further, he would. Gavin, at least for now, was safe.

  “Well, Miss Lolly,” he said. “Thank you very much. We’ll keep in touch if we hear anything. Here’s my card. If you see or hear from him, please let me know.”

  A cancerous hand reached out, taking it. Or was it a claw? She looked at the card, nodded, then looked at Frank, taking a deep inhalation, and not blowing out smoke but seeming to swallow it.

  “Have a nice day, Miss Lolly.” Bimsley turned, closing his eyes against the smell. Deirdre Lolly did not reply. The door shut as he made his way down the sidewalk.

  Frank stepped across the broken path, feeling the Hounds of Hell were breathing under his collar. He got in the car and thought about Gavin’s mother.

  Inwardly, he found himself cheering for these six kids. He only hoped they’d make it back alive.

  He looked to the house again. “Run boy,” Frank said, aloud. “Run fast, and run far. Get away as quick as you can, if that’s what you’ve done.”

  He started the patrol car and pulled away from the curb. He wasn’t a man to litter, and it wasn’t a good example—being the sheriff of Ellishome—but when he saw the cigarettes sitting on the dashboard, he grabbed the pack, and tossed them out the window.

  vi

  At the Auburn residence, just after five o’clock in the afternoon, a knock sounded from the front door. Masie, with her heart leaping into her throat—hoping and praying for news of Seth—ran to it and pulled it wide. It wasn’t Seth, and she felt a slight twinge of disappointment. Only the disappointment turned into another feeling, one she was grateful for, and that feeling was love.

  Rudy McCall stood in the doorway with a dejected look Masie had come to know all too well. He was wearing, what she’d come to recognize as, The Rudy Garb. Long blue jeans and a black rock-and-roll T-shirt. Jim Morrison was on the front. Looking at it, Masie smiled, thinking of the poster in her room. Rudy wore an unbuttoned red and black fleece over the T-shirt.

  “Masie,” he said, and nodded.

  “Hi, Rudy,” she said, and tried to smile. Despite everything, she was glad to see him.

  “I’m…” Rudy said, stumbling over his words. “I’m so sorry, Masie. I just heard everything.”

  He seemed more upset than she did, and Masie motioned him inside. “It’s okay,” she told him. “The sheriff actually sounds pretty hopeful. He doesn’t think they’re in any real danger…as stupid as that sounds.”

  Rudy didn’t look hopeful at all. He’d been through this before. Masie closed the door and told him to have a seat. He sat on the couch and looked at Masie.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Rudy said. “Whatever you got.”

  Masie went to the kitchen and came back with two cans of Coca-Cola. She handed one to Rudy. He popped the top and took a sip.

  “How’s your mom?” he asked.

  Masie shrugged; she couldn’t help feeling flattered by Rudy’s presence, his obvious concern.

  “As good as can be,” she said. “She’s trying to take a nap.”

  At the moment, however, Samantha Auburn appeared from the hallway “Oh, hi,” she said, surprised to see Rudy. “I heard the knock. I—”

  “Mom, this is Rudy McCall. He just came by to see if there was anything we needed.”

  Samantha nodded. “Thank you, Rudy. That’s sweet.” She seemed to want to say something more but couldn’t decide what that was. “Well…I’ll leave you kids alone. I’m gonna go lie back down for a while.” Samantha turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  “This is like a bad dream,” Masie said, sitting on a plush recliner by the couch. She did not open her Coke, but stared at a space on the floor. “I keep thinking he’s gonna come through the door any minute. Mom probably thinks the same. He’s out in the meadow playing is all.” Masie shook her head. She opened the Coke with a pop and a hiss and took a sip. “It’s like i
t doesn’t feel like he’s gone. Sort of surreal.”

  Rudy nodded, his thoughts elsewhere.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  Rudy shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s me who should be asking you that. I just didn’t think…I mean…this is all getting so out of hand…I want to do something. But I feel so helpless.”

  “Join the club,” she said. “No stalking serial killers?”

  He smiled weakly. “It seemed like such a stupid idea all of a sudden. Serial killers. I was reading so much about them, I thought I was turning into one.”

  “This probably doesn’t help—Seth and those other kids being gone. Are you thinking about Sadie?”

  “It’s kinda hard not to,” Rudy said.

  Masie nodded. “It didn’t happen to Seth.”

  She was thinking out loud, not realizing she’d spoken, or how cruel it might sound to Rudy.

  “Huh?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Masie said. “These kids weren’t lured into the meadow. This is something they decided to do. I think…I think they know what’s going on. I think they’re trying to stop it.”

  Rudy looked at her for a second and frowned, not knowing what to say.

  They were silent for a while before Rudy forced a chuckle. It sounded incredibly out of character.

  Masie looked at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking,” he said. “I came over here trying to cheer you up, but I’m not very good company. I’m sorry, Masie. I just can’t help thinking about that night…Sadie…I just want Seth to come back. Something weird is going on, something not…natural. It’s driving me crazy.” Rudy shook his head and ran his hand through his thick, black hair.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Masie said. “And believe me, I understand. It’s okay. You have every right to be concerned, but I get this feeling. Something inside, I don’t know. That everything’s gonna be okay. Seth is okay. His friends are okay. I know it’s hopeful, maybe, but I can’t allow myself to think otherwise. I can’t afford to believe otherwise.”