The man was older, probably close to seventy. He had the face of someone who had not lived an easy life. Denny had never seen him before, yet there was something about him. He squinted in the dark to try to get a better look but he couldn’t place him. Billy was first to speak. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who are you?” He was tensed, ready to take a swing at the old man.
“Calm down, now. We need to have a talk, boys. I can explain everything and I’m going to need your help. I suspect you’ll probably need mine as well.”
Denny finally got his composure back, though still distracted by the nagging feeling that he should know who he was talking to. “What are you talking about? You’d better start by telling us who you are or we’ll have the cops up here before you know it.” He tried to sound brave and arrogant but it suddenly crossed his mind that this could be the killer.
“Neither one of us wants the police involved, Dennis. We both know that much.”
“How do you know my name?” Denny was looking around, making sure he and Billy each had a clear path to run if it came down to it.
The man seemed to smile slightly, as if he knew what Denny was plotting and it amused him. “I’ll get into all that soon enough but I’d prefer not to stand in the woods all night. Billy, can we go to your house and I’ll explain everything there?”
Billy’s expression of surprise that the man knew his name would have been comical in different circumstances. “Oh, sure. Nothing I’d love more than to invite a complete stranger to my house for tea while there’s a murderer running around town!”
The man laughed out loud. It was a hearty laugh that was contagious enough to bring a grin to both Billy and Denny’s faces. Yet it seemed like a laugh that was seldom used. “I know what you’re thinking, son.” The man paused, almost seeming to choke on his own words. His face tightened and his eyes grew distant.
It was a look Denny had seen countless times and suddenly he knew. “Oh my God. You’re supposed to be dead.”
The man’s face crumbled and a tear moved slowly down his weathered face. “I’m sorry, Dennis. Maybe after I explain you’ll be able to understand why I’ve done what I’ve done.”
Billy’s expression again bordered on comical, this time in its confusion. “Denny, what the hell is going on here?”
“Billy, I’d like you to meet my grandfather.”
Billy took a step back and shook his head. “Denny, your grandfather was killed in an explosion thirty-five years ago. Remember, we went to the site?”
The old man wiped his face and smiled a sad smile. He held out his hand to Billy. “Pleased to meet you, Billy. Again, I’ll explain everything. You can both call me Mossy.”
Billy shook the man’s hand hesitantly, “Mossy? I’d be more likely to call you moldy after having been dead so long.” They all laughed at that.
Denny spoke slowly, carefully. “My mom… she doesn’t know. Otherwise you’d be in the house and not crawling around in the woods.” His voice came out more pointed than he had thought it would.
“I’m not ready for that, yet. I don’t know if she is, either. I read about what happened to your father and brother. I’m sorry. I’m more sorry I couldn’t be here for your mom.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Denny spat out.
“It’s not what you think, Dennis. It’s all about what’s happening in Haven, how it all began. Let’s go down to Billy’s house. Please?”
The three walked along the woods again, in case a patrol car came by. Denny was surprised to see lights on at Greymore’s, he must have just got back from Boston. He glanced at Billy and knew by his expression that Billy noticed the lights too. They crossed over at the bottom of the hill and went into Billy’s house. It was one of Denny’s favorite places to go. It was always so full of life, warm and comforting, like an old blanket. It was a family house and that was what Denny really loved, so unlike his own. But as they entered and flipped the lights on, it was as if a part of the house had died. It was so quiet and empty, a shell without a heart or soul. The whole night was beginning to play on Denny’s nerves. The letdown of the carnival being so bad, the horror of overhearing Crawford’s plans for Paul, finding out his grandfather had kept himself hidden for so long letting everyone think he was dead, and now to walk into one of his safe places and have it feel like a tomb. Denny felt deflated, defeated. The air was suffocating with the house having been closed up.
Billy was busy mixing up some lemonade while Mossy sat staring curiously at Denny. Denny felt extremely uncomfortable. His mind was reeling, filled with overlapping thoughts and emotions that he had no time to sort through. Finally, Billy brought three glasses of lemonade filled with ice and joined Denny and Mossy at the table. He seemed to be enjoying the whole thing.
“Okay, we’re in the house, we’ve got refreshments, now let’s hear a story.”
Denny looked at him as if he’d gone crazy. He was enjoying this! He seemed on the verge of hysteria.
Mossy took a long drink from the glass. Denny watched as he placed the glass back on the table, not missing the tremor in the old man’s hand. “I don’t know how much you already know, but I’ll start by saying this; Paul Greymore didn’t kill anybody seventeen years ago, and he’s certainly not killing anyone now.”
Billy slammed his own glass on the table. “You scared the shit out of us in the woods up there to tell us that? There better be more.”
“Hold your horses, Billy. There’s plenty more. More than you’ll wish you knew by the time I’m finished. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.”
“The beginning is always nice.” Billy said quietly through tight lips.
For the next half-hour Mossy sat patiently and told them everything he knew about the experiment at the base and the real reason behind the disaster that occurred there. Denny and Billy sat speechless through the entire story. “So when I realized what Gunlinger was planning, it was too late. I could save myself or stay and get killed with the rest of them. There was no middle ground and that’s God’s honest truth. If I could have done anything to save even some of the people, so many innocent people…” He buried his face in his hands. Denny looked down at his glass. He felt horrible. What must it do to a man to live with something like that? Denny again thought of his mother. Then Mossy continued. “I knew that they’d come after me if they knew I was alive. Worse than that, I knew they’d kill your mother, too. Gunlinger was crazy. He’d have thought I told her about the experiment and I swear he would have had her killed. Sometimes I’m surprised he didn’t anyway. So I took to the streets. I created a new identity and worked as a pharmaceutical researcher in Cambridge for a while. I stayed close enough to make sure your mom was okay, but not too close. The only way I could have any peace was to drink myself into oblivion. So I did. That escalated to drugs, which I had access to at work. Including experimental drugs. I kept tabs on your mom for a while but pretty soon the bottle was more important. I lost my job, lost my will to keep dealing with everything and became a bum. I slept in the streets, stole tips off tables or begged money to buy another bottle. Pretty soon the whole thing was buried under so much cheap booze, there was nothing left for me to do except keep doing what I was doing. Honestly, I’d forgotten everything that happened until I read the article about Gunlinger. I guess “blocked out” is a better way of saying it. Or maybe some of the drugs I took screwed up my memory.
I’ve been arrested, beaten up over pocket change and almost froze to death more times than I care to think about. I heard the stories about the Butcher back in ’61. I kept watching the papers, part of me knowing what was going on but the other part, the part so saturated in misery and two-dollar wine, convinced me it wasn’t true. When they caught Greymore, I was able to tell myself he really did kill them all. Christ, there certainly hasn’t been any shortage of people that have done just as much killing as they said he did. I kept watching and the killings had stopped. Until now. Look at this.” He pulled the newspaper clippings from his pocket and handed them to the boys. Denny and Billy hunched together to quickly scan the stories.