“Plenty of good campgrounds down Fryeburg way, Kezar Lake. Running water, and they’re safe.”
Just then Sarah walked out of the store with a bag of food and drinks.
“Got some maps of local campsites.” He looked at Sarah. “The lady who sold you those will be happy to assist.”
Sarah glanced at Zack. “What about motels?”
“Got those, too, and some nifty B and Bs made special for Massachusetts folks. Just ask Marianne.”
Sarah went back inside. Zack waited until she was out of earshot. “Are you saying there’s a problem at Magog?”
“Specially for the folks that went in.”
“What happened?”
“Never came out again.”
Zack nodded; it was all local rumor. “Any idea what became of them?”
“Hard to say. Maybe got lost. Maybe got hurt. Maybe fell into quickmud. Maybe worse.”
“Got lots of those about.” He bobbed his head as if running through an inventory of creature dangers. Then he added, “Could be something else.”
“Like what?” The rat began gnawing on something.
“Hard to say. But even the IFW agents don’t go in there, and they carry more guns than the state police.”
“IFW?”
“Inland Fisheries and Wildlife. They make sure wildlife is healthy, nobody poaches.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Problem is some folks up here aren’t like you Massachusetts people. They don’t have regular paying jobs and civ’lized lifestyles. Live in the woods, live off the land, don’t come out but once a year, if that. Eat what they kill. They jack a moose, the IFW looks the other way.” He pulled out a rag and began to wipe his hands. Then his nose.
“I still don’t see what the problem is.”
“Well, some would say they be a little light on top—maybe too much isolation, maybe too much livin’ in the wild. Whatever, we leave them alone, they leave us alone.”
“You’re saying there are dangerous people up there?”
“I’m saying drop your bags somewhere else.”
Sarah stepped out of the store with a small guidebook and some sheets with motels and B and Bs. She thanked the man and slipped back into the passenger seat.
The woman came out after her. “Here’s the rest of your change, ma’am.” And she handed Sarah some coins.
The woman was large and had her hair pulled back in a long ponytail. She had a wide mannish face and was wearing a bright pink sweatshirt that said, “Maineiac Momma.” When Sarah said to keep the change, the woman said, “Thanks, but we don’t take charity.” She moved beside the pump man and watched them leave.
Zack waved and buckled his seat belt while the two watched them without expression, looking like an overweight version of
When they were about a quarter mile up the road, Sarah handed Zack a tuna sandwich that had melted through the bread. “It’s all they had,” she said. “Guess there was a run on the good stuff.”
“Yeah, a foodie’s mecca.”
Zack put the sandwich in the hold between them. He had no appetite. He took a sip of the iced tea and drove on, feeling the rightness of his direction in spite of the guy back there making like one of the villagers in
“Your recall’s amazing,” Sarah said, biting into her sandwich. “I asked the lady, and she said Magog Woods is about fifteen miles up the road.”
“You must have been up here a few more times than you remember.”
“Still, you have a great memory.”
“Or maybe I had no reason to remember, and now I do.”
“I’m not sure I follow.”
“Not important.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to him. “What’s not important?”
“Nothing.” Purple shadows of the setting sun made a pall over the road ahead.
“Zack, I don’t like this.”
“You don’t like what?”
“Being up here. The way you’re behaving. The way you’re talking. I’m getting creeped out.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“I want to go back, okay?”
“You don’t even know what you’re looking for.”
“If you want, I can drop you back at the store and go myself.”
“Be serious.”
“Then trust me.”
“If you don’t find whatever it is, we turn back. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
But in the back of his mind, there was a flicker of guilt.
84
About a dozen miles beyond the gas station, Zack slowed the car. The thick wall of trees on either side made of the road an unbroken, darkening corridor. Since their stop, he had counted only one other vehicle on the road, coming from the opposite direction.
“Is this it?” Sarah asked, the fear audible in her voice.
He didn’t answer, but his chest was pounding so hard that his breath came short. After half a minute more, he pulled over. In the heavy scrub was an opening to an unmarked dirt road, nearly indistinguishable but for the narrow cut through towering pines, oaks, and dense brush. Zack pulled the car into the lane. No other cars were on the road, which faded into gloom in either direction.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re here.”
Zack turned on the headlights. The rutted dirt lane was one car wide, with weeds growing down the center line, some spilling into the tire troughs. It hadn’t been used much and brooded ahead of them as it disappeared into the depths. Zack checked that the doors were locked. “I just want to go in a little way, then we’ll come right out.”
“I don’t like this.”
“We’ll be fine.” His brain was humming like a hive of hornets. He inched his way down the lane as brush scratched against the car, and the overhang of trees made a tunnel of the path, closing down on them as they moved deeper. Something really weird was about to happen.
“Zack, please turn back. I want to get out of here.”
“Okay. We’ll find a clearing to turn around.”
