Kevin ignored my protests. “Follow me, young Jedi, and be not afraid.”
He stood and opened the gate housing the dumpster. Then, with the skill of a level ten thief, he shimmied up the side of the trash receptacle using the neighboring chain link fencing to help support him. Once on top of the dumpster, he waved me up whispering, “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
With slightly less grace than my spider monkey friend, I managed to work my way up without totally embarrassing myself.
From where the two of us now stood, the roof was little more than chest height. Kevin was first again, jumping up and wrapping his arms around the brick ledge. His legs dangled in midair for a few seconds as he heaved himself over and disappeared from sight. I heard a soft thump followed by Kevin’s voice. “It’s a little dirty here, so watch your landing.”
I didn’t get as much vertical action on the launch, but with a little grunting and great deal of swearing, I breached the church’s defenses and rolled off the ledge and into a pile of dried leaves and pebbles. “Crap!”
A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me up. “Told you to watch the landing.”
I brushed myself clean and looked around. The church rested atop a large hill. From our vantage point, we could see the rooftops of the houses lining both Spindle and Sexton. In the opposite direction lay Belair and, in the distance, the tree tunnel.
I sucked in the wet air and uttered the only word I thought fitting for the occasion. “Cool.”
“You can see everything around,” Kevin responded. “I’ve been up here a couple times before. It’s a good spot to just mellow out and think if you’re into that kind of thing, but it’s a great place for a little target practice.”
“What are we gonna shoot at?”
Kevin started shuffling around, kicking his foot through the piles of leaves that blanketed the church’s asphalt roof. “The good news is we’re not the only ones that have snuck up here. Bingo!” He reached down and picked up a couple of empty beer cans. “Perfectamundo!”
He set the targets a few inches apart on top of an air conditioning unit on the far side of the roof about ten paces from where I stood. As he came back toward me, he said, “Okay, you get five shots to knock them off. I have the first five. Just watch what I do.”
Kevin raised the gun. A hollow plunk echoed in the still night air as one of the cans fell. “One down, one to go.” He repeated his actions and the second can jumped off the air conditioner.
I was duly impressed. Not only was Kevin the only kid I knew with a BB gun, but he also had the skills to use it. “Nice shooting, quick draw.”
“Eh, these cans are no fun. Thought I saw some bottles up here somewhere. Take a look in the corner over there, and let me know if you find any. I’ll check over here.”
I worked my way to the far edge of the roof, shuffling through the dried leaves and trash from past visitors. That’s when the cold prickles first hatched, starting on my forearms and crawling upward until they tickled the nape of my neck. I looked below.
It was standing beneath a streetlight again. This time it was looking up at me. I wanted to shout to Kevin, but I knew if I did, the thing would disappear into the shadows. I was also sure that if I turned and motioned for him to join me, by the time I looked back it would have vanished as well. Instead, I stood motionless, returning its icy gaze.
It was out in the open for all to see, but no one was watching except for me. The shadows cast from the light above managed to mask its features. All I could make out was its immense frame and pointed head. How long had it been there? Did it follow us from my house? Was I now under constant surveillance?
It knelt and scooped up a large clump of dirt with wicked, clawed fingers that acted like a steam shovel. With its other immense hand, it dropped something in the remaining crater. The creature let the earth fall back over the hole as it stood back up. It raised a hand to its face. Though its silhouette was all I could see, I knew in my gut what it was doing. In my mind I saw a single hooked finger pressed against foul lips. What was buried in the ground was meant to be kept secret. Our secret.
Chapter 7
I played it cool the rest of the night and waited until Kevin went home the next morning before going back to see what my stalker had left. It was still way too early in our friendship for me to share this level of crazy with Kevin. Better to break him in slowly.
My hands shook as I shoveled up the loose dirt. Whatever was in the shallow hole was meant for me. It was supposed to be a secret, one shared between the two of us, monster and boy.
Something long and thin was in my hands. It was a leather strap. No, not a strap but a collar. A dog collar. I wiped the dirt away with my fingers and examined the splotches of cracked red covering it. I was still a little sleepy, so it took a few seconds to register. When I realized what I held in my hands, I dropped it. The collar was from one of the dogs on the bike trail, one of the unfortunate canines that had been slaughtered just a week ago. Even though there were no tags or anything to identify the dog or its owner, I knew that’s what it was. But why was the creature sharing it with me?
Something else was in the hole. I reached down and grabbed it, letting the extra dirt slip between my fingers. An orange butterfly barrette. This time I immediately knew where the tiny piece of plastic came from. It was one of a matching pair, and its twin was sitting on my sister’s dresser.
A cold sweat sprouted on my forehead. “Shit.”
The message was twofold, and it was received loud and clear. Part one: yes, I was the one on the bike trail that you interrupted in the middle of a furry buffet. Part two: know that I can get to you or your family anytime I want, so you should keep your mouth shut about what you’ve seen. But why the warning? Why even send me a message since I had no proof of anything? I had to be missing something. I pocketed the collar and barrette and—for reasons I couldn’t explain—filled the small hole back in. I stood up, dusted the dirt off my knees, and slowly started back home.
Closing my eyes, I unleashed my mind and let it wander to the dark places. I needed to figure out what was happening. Why was I being stalked? Who or what was coming for me? Every time I went over it in my head, it all came back to one place. White Marsh. The bike trail was where I first encountered the creature. Just after that it started following me everywhere I went…at least I think it did. Maybe something else was buried on the trail that it didn’t want me to find, or perhaps it had a lair hidden somewhere deep in the forest. And, most importantly, when was I going to stop referring to my stalker as a thing, creature, or beast and simply start calling it by its name—the Goatman.
Chapter 8
On the day of the filming, I cornered Paul and Kevin before our group left. By that time I had already told Kevin about my near death experience on the bike trail. I knew Paul would back up my claims in the event he doubted the story, so it wasn’t too risky a move. But neither of them knew anything about the ominous messages the Goatman had been leaving me. I guess I figured it would be pushing it dumping so much on them and expecting them to believe it. Besides, if things went as I hoped they would, we’d find some kind of evidence on the trail that would help solve the mystery of the Goatman.
“Remember, when we get to the spot where I saw the blood, I’ll give you the signal. We’ll have to convince Steve it’s a good place to stop and shoot some scenes. That will give us time to snoop around.”
“Riiight, and what exactly are we looking for again?” Kevin asked.
“It’s like Chris said,” Paul exclaimed. “We’re looking for the spot the Goatman killed the dogs.”
From the moment Kevin and Paul met, it got a little weird. Paul was acting bossy with Kevin, and Kevin was being super sarcastic with Paul.