In the previous episode Silas explained to Mark how his family had created Rivertown, trading the children of future Rivertown generations for power and wealth. He told of his revulsion to what they had done and how he had followed the creature below ground, where it remained until the next feeding time. Silas had been seeking certain tools Father Kessler had left behind to battle the creature. Readers voted that the tools had remained hidden at St. Luke’s church.
We went to the sheriff’s empty house and I called my own home.
“Skandersen residence. This is Margie Flynn.” Tim’s mother.
“Oh, Mrs. Flynn. It’s Mark. Is my Dad there?”
“Oh, Mark.” I could hear tears in her voice. If I didn’t interrupt her quickly, we’d both be crying.
“Mrs. Flynn, I might have something that can help. Is my Dad there? Or the sheriff?”
There was still a catch in her voice, but she answered. “Doc’s given your Mother something to calm her. Your Dad wanted you earlier. He’s in with the sheriff and some others, talking about where to look next. I’ll get ‘im.”
It didn’t take long.
“Mark? Mark, you need to come home, son. You need to stay here. It isn’t safe for you, Mark.”
“I saw it, Dad. I saw the thing that took them.” I’m not sure how I was able to talk, my throat closing up like it was, but I continued.
“There’s someone here, Dad. He thinks he can end this. His name is Silas.” I heard the phone hit the floor.
“Dad, do you know him? He says he knows you.”
Dad was the first one in the door, tears streaming, his hand grabbing Silas’. The sheriff was right behind him. He picked Silas up, swung him in a circle while Dad put a hand on my shoulder, squeezing.
The sheriff put Sy down. Dad began.
“My Inky. My daughter,” Dad corrected, “Ingrid.”
Silas nodded. “Mark told me.” He didn’t say anything else. No word of hope.
Dad understood and looked away, his face contracting, but that was all.
The sheriff looked at Sy and said quietly, “Like Annie.”
Neither said more.
“Who’s Annie?” I asked.
“Your Aunt Annie,” the sheriff told me.
“I don’t have an Aunt Annie.”
“Ayuh, Mark,” Dad answered. “You did.”
“She was eleven,” the sheriff smiled. “Bossiest little thing you ever saw.”
Dad’s laugh was the saddest thing I had ever heard. “She was, at that. Never listened to anyone but you, Will.”
“Not true,” Sheriff answered. “I told her not to go out that day.”
The sheriff turned to Sy. “Father Kessler said this would happen again. When he died, Father Martin moved in. He found the box — spearheads, the water Father Kessler swore could stop the thing. I tried to tell Father Martin what it was for, but he threw it out.” Sheriff shook his head. “Threw it all out.”
Sy spoke up, concerned. “It’s gone, then? All of it?”
Dad held a hand up, shook his head. “I saw him do it. I went back that night and snatched it. Didn’t want anyone to find it, so I hid it back inside St. Luke’s, in the choir loft. Father Martin never goes there.”
“We need those things, and quickly,” Sy told him.
“Right,” Sheriff nodded. “But we need something else, too.”
“Don’t say it,” Dad warned him, but he did anyway.
“We need bait,” Sheriff said.
Everyone looked at me. Vote below on what will happen next or if reading in email click Take our Poll.