Shifting

“That we are in the center of this, or at least a local center. If you read the reports, they are almost all about changelings in our area. But in other areas, there are different effects.”

“Yes, like the one from England about the shining little men.”

“And reports from California of marching rocks and trees.”

“Yes.” I suppressed a shudder. The thought would have been humorous a few months ago, but now that I had seen so many fantastic things, I was glad I wasn’t facing boulders with huge maws, or trees with grasping branches that lurched, rather than walked, after their tiny, soft, fleshy victims.

“I’ve come to some theories, after poring over many texts, both old and new,” continued the Preacher. He tapped his Bible meaningfully as he said this. I knew, however, he was a broad reader. Lining the walls of his cabin were hundreds of dusty volumes, mostly non-fiction, covering a startling array of subjects.

“I think there must be a source, or sources, to all of this and I’ve found places to start looking.” He spread out an old map on the table between us. The corners were yellowed, stained and there were tears along the fold lines. There were some colored pencil lines drawn here and there around the borders of Redmoor. “Fifty years ago, Lake Monroe was a valley. They dammed up one end of it and built the biggest reservoir in Indiana right here.”

I nodded, every school kid from Monroe County knew this. As he was speaking I realized what the map was. It showed the area before the dam was built, before the area was flooded.

“And you’ve heard of Elkinsville, the flooded town?”

“Of course,” I said. There had even been a special about the town on PBS once, the entire town had been abandoned. “Everyone was moved to a new site.”

He nodded. “The town was drowned and forgotten. But there were other things buried in that Lake out there. Deep hidden things.”

I blinked at him, not knowing where this was going. I could already tell he had some mission in mind and I hoped he wasn’t thinking of putting a diving suit on me. Vaguely, I wondered if there were any changelings in the lake. What if one of them had turned part fish, and was out there waiting for a swimmer?

“Another factor of this part of the country is the limestone. We are famous for our caves in southern Indiana.”

I just looked at him, hoping he didn’t want me to investigate caves. He watched me appraisingly for a moment.

“Gannon, it’s time we took some chances. Cast your bread upon the waters, for you shall find it after many days. We’ve got to take some risks, because what we are doing right now isn’t working. We lose people every day.”

“Okay, but what do you want me to do?”

A great deal of scrabbling came from the roof just then. I raised my eyes to the knotty pine ceiling. Something out there was trying to climb the steep A-frame roof. I could tell, just by listening to the sounds, that the thing had claws. The sounds paused, and I imagined a cat-like animal clinging to the roof, panting from exertion.

I looked back down to the Preacher, who was watching me patiently. Seeing that he had my attention again, he answered my previous question.

“I’ve been seeing more and more of the seeker types. They are much more dangerous than the wandering mindless ones, but at the same time, they are more predictable. One of my ideas is that the more resistant folk tend to turn into seekers when they change. They have more purpose and intelligence, maybe because they have more humanity left in them.”

I frowned a bit, only halfway following him. I kept thinking about Monika, and thinking that if this new mission took too long Vance would be working hard to get her attentions. Why had I let him get away with taking her to the Doctor? And what the hell was climbing up the roof out there?

“When we last gathered in a large group,” he said, “things went badly.”

I nodded, grim-faced. Much of the town’s population had perished in the town’s only school about a month ago. They had plenty of food from the cafeteria, but the big glass windows in the classrooms had proven to be a weak point. A few of them had changed, and then the rest had died in a terrible fire.

“We must do better this time,” the Preacher continued. “I’ve already talked about this with the Captain, Doctor Wilton and Mrs. Hatchell. We need to gather our remaining strength and beat them this time. They are hunting us down. I think there is some kind of method to their madness now, as if they are being led by- something.”

“Something like the thing with the hooves?”

He nodded. “We’ll build a compound, based around the medical center. It’s brick and loaded with supplies. With a fence around it, and strict rules on entry and exit, we’ll keep control of the remainder of our people.”

“How can you be sure some won’t turn and get the rest?”

“I can’t, not really, but look at these lines on the map. These are event lines, where the changes have happened. To the best of our knowledge, the changelings only appear when someone crosses one of these lines.”

I looked at the random red, blue and green lines. They formed an odd multi-faceted pattern around the area. One of them was down on the SR 446, where Billy had turned into a troll.

“The lines don’t even connect,” I pointed out.

“No, they are more like cracks, or fissures, than walls,” he said. “And we aren’t even sure all of these are real. Red lines mean they are well defined with many cases. Blue lines are strong probabilities. Green lines, are maybes-guesses.”

I looked dubious. “Even if we build a fort and can keep people from shifting, what good is life stuck in a fort?”

He nodded. “That’s where you come in.”

I felt my stomach sinking.

Six

“As I was saying about the limestone caverns in the area. We need to know if they can be traveled, if people can safely move around and under the lines, these shift-lines, let’s call them, then we will have a great deal more control than we do now.”

“How do I fit into this… plan?”

“You know these woods as well as anyone left alive now, I’d say. And you know the caves. There is one line too, very close to your house that leads down to the lakeshore. Possibly, it goes right into the lake itself.”

I nodded. My hometown was famous for its caves. Since boyhood, I’d spent a lot of time in those cool limestone holes, exploring, getting into trouble.

“How did you compile this map?”

He smiled grimly. “See these dots? They mark places where people shifted and others were killed.”

I looked more closely at the map. There were faint dots all along the shift-lines. I understood then, he had simply mapped where things had gone badly and connected the dots, forming lines. The map was really an epitaph for hundreds of deaths. The thought gave me a tiny chill.

“What about the animals? Why aren’t they shifted by these lines, if they exist?” I asked finally.

He nodded, “I’ve been thinking about that, why animal changelings are so rare, mostly birds. I think they must sense these places. I think they avoid them, but it is only an idea.”

I must have looked doubtful.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward suddenly. “We’re all going to be dead soon at this rate and this is the best plan we could come up with given what we know. Are you willing to go out and scout some of these spots?”

I looked back at those burning eyes. I knew he had already lost a family to the changelings. Hell, who hadn’t? He was right in that we had to do something.

“I’ve got no better plan,” I said. The words seem to echo in my head. “I’ll do it.”