CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“There.” Adam pointed at a garage two houses away from his former home. “Behind Merle’s wood shop.”
The three of them huddled together in the driveway, hiding behind the blue minivan. Levi had convinced Adam to pull himself together.
Maria frowned. “That doesn’t look like a wood shop.”
“It’s not anymore,” Adam whispered. “After Merle died, he left everything he owned to his ex-wife, Peggy. He sold antiques out of the house. She put all of it up for an estate auction—the house, his antiques and personal belongings, the wood shop. Everything. I’d left LeHorn’s book in there the night we confronted Hylinus. I got it back that same night. After what happened with Tara, I buried it behind the wood shop.”
Levi groaned. “You buried the book unprotected?”
“No. Give me some credit, dude. I sealed it in a plastic freezer bag and put it inside a cigar box. Then I duct taped the box shut. It should still be okay.”
Maria stifled a yawn. “Why did you bury it?”
“Because of what it was. What it had caused. I couldn’t just get rid of it. I’m a writer. I can’t throw a book away, even a book like that. But I didn’t want it around, either. So I buried it, just in case I ever needed it again. I hoped I wouldn’t, but I guess now we do, right?”
“You did well,” Levi whispered. “You did very well indeed. You were guided by the Lord.”
“God?”
Levi nodded.
“Fuck God,” Adam exclaimed. “Fuck Him in his all-powerful, all-knowing benevolent ass!”
“Adam.” Levi’s voice was like ice. He grabbed Adam’s arm and squeezed. “That will be enough.”
Adam pushed Levi away and laughed. The sound carried down the alley.
“Be quiet,” Levi hushed him. “You don’t believe in God?”
“Hell, yeah, I believe in Him. And I hate the motherfucker.”
“I said that’s
“You want to kick my ass? Go ahead. I don’t give a shit. What—just because He’s always been nice to you, you’re required to kiss His holy ass? Well, screw that, Levi. Maybe He’s been good to you, but the only thing God’s ever done for me is shit all over my life. This whole thing was His fucking fault, man. Do you understand that? I prayed to Him. Begged Him. I fucking begged. And God just laughed. He took everything from me. I’m not Amish like you. I’m not one of the favored ones.”
“I’m far from favored,” Levi protested. “And I’ve had plenty of unanswered prayers. You think I don’t know about suffering or loss? You think I haven’t questioned God? You know nothing about me.”
“I know that you still love Him, even if you’re not Amish anymore. And I know that I still hate him—more and more every day. All I want to do is spit in His fucking face. You want the truth? I wish the motherfucker was standing here in front of me right now. I’d fucking say it then, too.”
“Then I pray that your wish never comes true.”
“Look,” Maria whispered, quieting them both. “I’m going on well past twenty-four hours with no sleep here, and I’m about to fall over. Can we please get on with this? You two can argue theology and steal lines from
Levi appeared confused. “Pitch black?”
“It’s a movie, and it doesn’t fucking matter. I need some sleep before we do whatever it is we’re going to do with this book. Let’s just sneak over there and dig it up and go home before we get caught. Tired as I am, I really don’t feel like sleeping in a holding cell tonight.”
“You’re right,” Levi agreed. He looked at Adam. “I am sorry.”
“I’m not. I meant every word of it. I fucking hate Him.”
Levi tugged on Adam’s arm. “Maria is right. Let’s go retrieve the book. We’ll discuss the rest later.”
“Hey!” Adam yanked away from him. “Let go of me or I’ll wake up everybody in this fucking neighborhood.”
Levi took a deep breath. “Adam, look over there, beyond the playground. Do you see those trees?”
Adam turned away from him, sulking.
“Do you see them?” Levi insisted, wrenching the man’s arm.
“Yes. Now let go. You’re hurting me.”
“You know where those trees go, don’t you, Adam? You remember where that forest leads to. What it’s part of.”
“
Levi leaned close, breathing into Adam’s ear. “It leads to LeHorn’s Hollow. Sure, we’re on the far side. There are many miles between us and that place, and the fire destroyed a great portion of the woods between here and there, but it’s all still connected. It’s all part of the same net. The energies that make that place what it is don’t rely on trees or undergrowth or property boundaries. They run through the ground. I can feel them, you know. Pulsing. Turning. Vibrating far beneath our feet. And you can feel them too, I’ll bet. Because they’ve touched you. You’ve been poisoned by that place.”
“Stop it,” Adam whispered.
