Something loomed over him. Invisible suction-cup fingers clutched his face and wrenched his head up, pinning him in place. The grip on his chin was painful.
“Parker is my mistake to fix,” an accented voice warned near his ear.
Just that quickly, the thing—whatever it was—withdrew. Air flooded his lungs. A sliver of outside light pierced the doorway, driving back the shadows. The air warmed, heating the blood in his veins. He sucked down a jagged breath. His uniform was covered in dirt, the result of being pelted with leaves, stones, and soil. Other than his unkempt state, there was nothing to indicate he hadn’t dreamed the whole affair.
Unsteadily, he climbed to his feet and finger-combed his hair, sweeping it free of grime.
Parker is my mistake to fix.
Those words hadn’t been in his head. Someone had spoken them directly into his ear. Staggering outside, he squinted against the sun. The whole episode had given him a pounding headache. He felt like he could chug a gallon of water.
“Caden. Hey, Caden!”
A man’s voice drew him around. He turned in time to see Duncan and Donnie Bradley stomp through the overgrowth.
“What are you doing out here?” Duncan jogged to his side, followed by his brother. “Man, you look a mess.” His gaze flicked to the ammunitions bunker. “Were you crawling around inside the igloo?”
Caden palmed a hand over his mouth, tasting dirt. “Something like that.” Hopefully, he didn’t look as rattled as he felt. The entity hadn’t turned hostile when conversing with Eve and Katie, but had been openly aggressive with him.
He rubbed his jaw, wincing at the sore spot where the being had gripped him. “What are you two doing out here?”
The brothers exchanged a glance. Donnie dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Nothing really.” The “nothing” sounded evasive. “Just, you know…poking around.”
Caden scowled, noting the rifle Donnie clutched in his hands. “You’re Mothman hunting.” A half dozen dead dogs had stirred up the town. “You’re not packing anything other than that Winchester, are you?”
“Just the rifle.” Duncan tended to be the more forthright of the two.
His brother nudged him in the ribs. “Small game’s in season,” he added.
As if realizing his blunder, Duncan hastily nodded agreement.
Caden didn’t buy it, but there was little he could do. The Mothman had survived for almost two decades, probably far longer. If the creature lurked somewhere within the twisting labyrinth of the TNT, the thing was smart enough to outwit two local hunters. “I didn’t see your truck when I got here.”
“Just pulled up about ten minutes ago,” Donnie said. “We saw your patrol car back that way.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Thought maybe there was a problem. More dead dogs. You know.”
Hence the rifle.
Caden shook his head. “Just thought I’d take a drive.” Bullshit heaped upon their bullshit. The brothers plainly didn’t buy his story any more than he bought theirs.
Donnie eyed the igloo. “Find anything interesting in there?”
“The usual junk and debris. Lots of graffiti. You’ve seen it all before.” At one time or another, almost everyone in Point Pleasant had traipsed through the bunker where the Mothman had been sighted. The old dugout and the North Power Plant had been two of the cryptid’s favorite haunts.
Caden’s radio squawked before he could say anything further. Stepping away from the brothers, he depressed the button on his handheld mic. “Flynn, here.”
“Caden, it’s Ryan.” His brother sounded tense, wired on something. “I’m headed to the hospital with Katie.”
Alarm shot through him. “What happened?”
“Jerome’s awake. I went to the hotel to tell Katie about Evening and Lyle. While I was there, I got a message that Jerome’s up and talking. Like all he did was take a nap. Where are you?”
“The TNT.”
“What are you doing there?” He could almost hear the frown in his brother’s voice.
“I’ll tell you later. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“Got it.”
Maybe now they’d get answers. Jerome had been to see Parker. Had probably put the note in Katie’s pocket, and might even know a thing or two about Indrid Cold or Lach Evening. So far everything seemed to tie together. If only he could make sense of how the Mothman factored into the puzzle. Parker indicated the creature was involved, and any unexplained occurrence in Point Pleasant usually found its root in the town’s infamous bird.
Hooking the radio onto his belt, Caden turned back to the Bradley brothers. “Look, guys, I’m headed to town. Be careful out here, and watch what you shoot, okay?”
“Under control, Sergeant.” Donnie gave him a mock salute.
Caden sprinted for his car. Duncan and Donnie were on their own. Hopefully, they wouldn’t cross anything they couldn’t handle.
“I’m telling you I heard something.” Duncan crouched lower, motioning his brother forward. Donnie had the rifle, after all. They’d been ready to pack it in after two hours, tired of plodding their way through knots of browning foxtails and bull thistle. Just as they’d started to head back, Duncan heard the noise. “Up ahead. A little farther.”
He shuffled forward in a crab-crouch, adrenalin licking his veins. The noise had been weird. A snuffling sound, like a dog would make. Poor pets seemed to be the favorite target of the Mothman lately. At least, he was convinced the monster was responsible. The thing probably sucked their brains out, slurping the blood like syrup. No way did he want to trip over some mutt with its head half gone.