Chapter 10 – The Only Survivor

It felt like I stood there for an hour mulling over what I should do. Could these people—if that’s what you would call them—be dangerous? Could I take them by myself? They were all really thin, so I might be able to fight them. Then zombies crossed my mind, and I abandoned the fight idea, and started focusing on flight. About that same instance, the high beams of a truck’s headlights flooded the scene before me. The entirety of the weird group shielded their eyes, whimpering and moaning.

I watched as the old caretaker we’d encountered earlier that day threw open the driver-side door, firing a shotgun into the air. There was a flurry of movement and the people, or things, scrambled back into the darkness on all fours, much faster than they’d made their appearance. Somehow, that unnerved me more. The fact that they could have been on me and and my friends so quickly, yet had taken their time, didn’t sit well on my spine.

I shuddered as the caretaker huffed, tossing his shotgun back into the cab of the truck, turning to look at me. “I believe that I tol’ you and your friends to high-tail your asses outta here earlier today, did I not?”

“What the hell were those things?” I was never a fan of answering questions with a question, but I was already breaking rules, so why not break another one. Tiffany and Amy burst out of the tent, Will and James dragged behind them, all talking about a gunshot, clearly wondering what was happening.

The old man ignored them, shaking his head, answering my question first. “Those were the Gaunts.”

“The Gaunts? They’re a family?” I gulped, thinking of several horror movies I’d seen when I was younger about whole families of inbred, cannibalistic humans.

“No, you dang fool boy. That’s jus’ what they’re called. ‘Cause of how they look? Who knows who they used to be…Every year there are one or two more. Hell, I stopped carin’. Every night I come out here to run ’em off. Tonight I happened upon you, and your friends. What are y’all doin’ out here?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

Wasn’t that a loaded question? “Listen, this is gonna sound really crazy, but we’re tryin’ to figure out the Blackwoods Bend mystery.” Good job, Daniel. Make it sound like a Nancy Drew novel. That’ll win you friends. Speaking of friends, they were being less than helpful, standing there, gaping like fish, looking back and forth between me and the caretaker.

“Kid, you really stepped in shit this time,” the man said, slamming the door shut on his truck. “You all need to pack your stuff up and shimmy outta here. Quick.”

“Why?” Amy asked, finally seeming to have found her voice.

The old man propped his hands on his hips, bobbing his head in Amy’s direction. “Little girl, this is the closest that you’re gonna get to Hell on Earth. You don’t wanna be here.”

“Our friends are dead, okay? We might be next, and so we’re taking the offense. What would you do if you felt like your life was in danger?” Tiffany pointed her finger at the man. “You’d be out here facing terror in the dark, too.”

“Darlin’, I’m really sorry that you lost your friends, but the best thing you can do is go on home. Forget about every bit o’ this. Nothin’ good is gonna come of you bein’ out here,” the man said.

“Nothin’ good will come from us goin’ home, either,” James said. “With all due respect, we are fucked, sir. We don’t have any options left.”

“You.” The old man pointed a gnarled finger at me. “Your name’s Daniel?”

I furrowed my brow, turning my head to meet James’ similarly confused glare before turning back to the man as I swallowed hard. “Yeah, my name’s Daniel.”

“Danny Frame?” the man asked, tilting his head.

Was I suddenly on a very fucked up version of This is Your Life? I stared the old man down, my surprise turning to anger. “How the hell do you know my name?”

“I told him.” Marianne climbed out of the passenger seat of the old man’s truck, walking into the light of the high beams. “I saw what you were workin’ on, Danny, and you gotta let this go before it kills you.”

“What do you know about it? How do you know about it, and you’re still alive?” I asked, trying not to step on my heart, which was now in my boots.

Marianne held her hands out for a moment, looking around the cemetery as if she was trying to think of a way to explain death to a five-year-old. “Do you know the legend of the Harsons?” she asked finally.

“Yes,” we all said in varying, insistent tones.

“Yeah, we’re all well aware at this point,” Will said through a sigh.

Marianne nodded her head once. “Then you know that everyone believes that all of their children died of scarlet fever, or were stillborn.”

“What are you gettin’ at?” Tiffany asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Danny, what was your dad’s last name, when he was born?” Marianne turned her eyes back to me, ignoring Tiffany’s question.

I couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of that question. “The same as my last name. Dad’s name was ‘Frame’.”

“Your pa was adopted, son,” the old man said. “I know’t ’cause I was there the day your grandparents brought ‘im home.”

I bit down on my lip hard, turning my head away as I shifted my feet to better my stance, and it felt almost instinctive. I was never a fighter, that I could remember, but just then I felt like socking the old man right in his dentures. “I see where this is going. I’ve read enough mystery novels to figure this out. You’re trying to insinuate that my father was somehow related, by blood, to the Harsons? To what point? Even if my father wasn’t the son of Everett and Ada Frame—which I find hard to believe—what the hell difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference, Danny. It means that you are a Harson,” Marianne said in a gentle tone.

I ran my hands into my hair, bracing my palms on either side of my head as I turned to walk away from the group a few steps. This wasn’t really happening. It didn’t make any sense. What they were saying couldn’t possibly be true. “If I’m a Harson then where are the others? Huh?” I asked as I turned back to face them, pointing at the ground. “Surely I’m not the only one.” Immediately I thought of a little, cartoon tiger with a bouncy tail, and I considered that maybe my brain was finally starting to power-cycle into oblivion.

“You’d be the last Harson. All’a the others ‘re dead, Daniel,” the old man said.

And just who was this old man? “What’s your name, by the way? You sure know a lot about me, but I don’t know you from Adam. Who the fuck are you?” I asked, locking my stare with the man’s light-blue eyes.

The man bowed his head before nodding slightly. “I’m your great-uncle, Marjorie Frame.”

“I’m so sorry,” James said, holding out a hand. “Did you just say that your name is Marjorie?”

“I did. I’m named for my pappy, an’ I’m proud of it. Marj is what they call me, an’ you can call me it, too,” Marj said with a confidence I was sure was acquired from a lifetime of having to defend his name.

“Listen, Marj, you’ve got this wrong,” I said, shaking my head. I turned my attention to the girl I was sweet on—a girl who was now standing in a cemetery, uprooting everything I actually did know about myself. “Marianne, you can’t really believe all of this. And how do you know Marj?”

“My grandmother plays bridge with him,” Marianne said with a shrug.

“Her grandmother plays bridge with him,” I said, holding up a hand to gesture to Marj as I met Will’s bewildered gaze. “What am I supposed to do with all of this information?”

“You forget it,” Marianne said almost desperately, taking a step forward. “You had to be told, so that you forget, just like you forgot before.”

Before? What did she mean, just like I forgot before? “Marianne…I was in a car accident. My parents were killed, and I suffered a brain injury. What are you talkin’ about?” I asked, looking down at her as she got closer to me.

“You didn’t forget because of the car accident, Danny. You had to forget, or the darkness would have eaten you alive,” Marianne said quietly.

My thoughts raced back to the passage I’d read from Victorvina’s diary.

I am afraid that there is a darkness inside him that will one day consume him. Perhaps it will consume us all.

Was that what Marianne was talking about? Had I somehow inherited the darkness that my long-dead ancestor had brought into our family?

“We should go,” Will said, glaring towards the line of trees that made up the edge of Blackwoods Forest, backing in the direction of the SUV. “There’s somethin’ movin’ in there.”

“More Gaunts?” Amy asked, moving towards the gate of the cemetery along with Will.

“That’d be the Baume,” Marj said gruffly.

Tiffany narrowed her eyes at him. “The bye-muh? The hell does that m—”

“No, Baume. It’s a German word. Means trees,” Marj explained. “Folks don’t just vanish. Can’t destroy energy. Everybody knows that, girl. They become somethin’ else. They’re the Baume.”

A shudder rolled down my spine, then as if it was the most natural thing in the world, I grabbed Marianne’s hand, and made a run for the SUV with James and Tiffany hot on our heels. Amy and Will were already in the car and had it cranked.

“Get us the hell out of Blackwoods Bend. Go to Birmingham, Huntsville—anywhere but this god-forsaken town!” I shouted as four of us squeezed into the back seat, Marianne half-sitting on my lap. We left all of our camping gear and supplies set up where we’d put them, and I didn’t care if we ever went back to Returnal Cemetery again.