The Acolytes of Crane (Theodore Crane, #1)(27)

It was all too much information for me. I found back then, that whenever I asked an adult a simple question, I typically received a long-winded answer. I really didn’t mind. I usually found something useful among the nonsense.

I liked his story. Throughout my life, I discovered the majority of people that tell you the gory details of their battles were typically lying, unless they had a scar to prove it or their details were perfectly lined up.

A small percentage of men who see combat actually tell about it. Most of them withhold it because they are deeply pained by what they have done and endured.

He pulled up in the parking lot of an old gas station. ‘We are here bud,’ he said as he reached for the money, ‘Just curious kid, who’s Jason? You are not having those night terrors I heard about, are ya?’

‘No,’ I answered, with a lump in my throat.

‘You kept going on about Jason in your sleep, and I heard on a talk show that night terrors are caused by stress.’

‘Jason is my friend. I am looking forward to seeing him. That is all,’ I said, as I closed the door.

The cabby rolled down the window and handed me a stained business card. He said, ‘The name’s Winston, Winston Springfield. If you ever need a ride, call the number on the side and ask for me. Best of luck.’

I took his card, inserted it into my shirt pocket, put up my other hand to bid him a good day, and off he went. I stopped inside the station to grab a local tourist map to help me in my adventure. I wasn’t too worried about navigation because the cliffs were not far from the town. The station was a hybrid between gift shop and gas stop. There were more than enough knick-knacks in the store to distract me.

While I was fighting the urge to wander the aisles, I felt eyes pressing my back. I turned while looking and there was no one. I knew I could rely on my necklace to warn me, but it issued no response.

I quickly left and I began my hike, which really only consisted of pounding pavement and following signs.

The campgrounds were organized. I wasn’t scared of the dark anymore, but there was something about unfamiliar locations, large swaths of forest, and sparse traffic zooming by recklessly that made me feel uneasy.

Sighing, I stopped and gazed at my map, confused and alone. My head acted like a beacon as I swiveled to find a landmark—anything that would reassure me. Just as I was about to panic, a hiker stepped out of the shady woods and walked right into my line of sight.

The hiker was about six feet tall and all he had with him was a walking stick. Either he was under prepared, or his campsite was nearby. It was strange that he appeared out of the thick of the woods.

As he got closer, I had this weird feeling that I knew him. However, I knew I had never seen his face before. I pushed my errant thoughts out of my head.

‘Hi I’m David, nice to meet you. You need help finding anything? You look kind of young to be roaming the woods by yourself.’

His tone placated me, although I still had this innate fear of strangers, especially young men, bred into me by my safety-conscious grandparents. Still, he appeared genuinely warm, and I had no choice. ‘My name is Ted, but if you are not busy, do you think you could lead me to the shoreline by the cliffs?’ I asked.

‘Ted, it would be my pleasure, let’s go. There is no time better than the present.’ He let out a peculiar laugh, as if he was sharing a private joke with himself.

We strolled along the road, and he began to sing a familiar tune. I recognized that song—it was something my grandma taught me. I had happily hummed it on occasion during moments of privacy in years past, but by now had forgotten the lyrics. He sang badly—real badly. I felt like covering my ears or breaking my pencil in two and plugging my ear canals with each end.

We were approaching the beach, and the water was rustling along the river’s shore. I tried to peer through the near-black murky surface, but failed. Eddies of white foam swirled about. Only by standing right in front of the powerful river can you truly appreciate its commanding magnificence.

To my right were the cliffs. The cliffs started out at about fifteen feet from the water and ascended to nearly fifty. They were tall and unwavering. David stood by as I marveled at the cliffs.

David turned to me with a benign, but quizzical expression on his face. ‘You know there is a kid they have been looking for out here. His name is Travis, have you seen him?’

Dread coursed throughout my veins. Fear knotted itself within the pit of my stomach.

Why was he asking me?

I stammered at first, then massaged my voice more steadily as I went on. ‘No, I have not seen him. I have not heard of him.’

‘Hmm,’ he said, still staring at me.

I nervously glanced at his expression. Still blank.

Then he laughed and swung his head aside.

‘Well, this is it Ted, you know a fifteen-year-old should never be in the woods by himself, see ya later,’ David said, as he strolled away.

I froze at his words. Robotically I said, ‘Goodbye.’

What did he just say?

‘A fifteen-year-old should never be in the woods by himself.’

Was it a warning?

And how did he know my age? I had never mentioned it to him.

Immediately, I checked my amulet for clues. Indeed, it had been glowing, but now was fading out.

I turned my head to take stock of the whereabouts of the strange hiker. David had already vanished.