McCarthy gave Denny an up-and-down glance, taking in the torn clothes and scratches on his face and arms. But without hesitation the old priest grabbed his keys off the end table and shooed Denny out the door. Once in the car, Denny told McCarthy where they were going and no more. It was too hard to explain in such a short time and wouldn’t make sense. Without a word between them, they arrived at the spot Denny had told Moses to meet him. “Father, I need you to flick your headlights on and off, that was the signal.”
McCarthy turned to him with a frown “Denny, this all seems a bit dramatic…”
“Father, please? It’s to help Paul…” Once the name was out of Denny’s mouth McCarthy grabbed the switch and pulled it in and out rapidly. Denny peered out the window, expecting Moses to come out holding the backpack right away. After a minute or two McCarthy repeated the signal but there was no movement from the woods.
“Denny, if this is some kind of joke…”
Denny was already reaching for the door handle. Two thoughts were swimming in his head. Without Moses we can’t kill it… followed by… My grandfather might be dead. And he was ashamed at the order they came in. “It’s no joke, wait here,” and he ran into the darkness.
As quickly as he could he retraced his steps through the brush, almost tripping over Mossy’s prone figure on the ground. Denny’s breath caught in his chest and he felt lightheaded. No, it can’t be… He reached down, placing a shaky hand on Mossy’s forehead. It felt cool and clammy. He slid his hand down to Mossy’s chest and exhaled loudly when he felt a heartbeat. At least he’s not dead. He bent closer and could hear Mossy’s breathing. It didn’t sound great to Denny, but at least he could hear it. He began lightly slapping Mossy’s cheeks—it was what they always did in the movies. “Mossy, can you hear me, Mossy, are you okay?” No response. He got to his feet, looking around, now what? He could go get McCarthy but what good would that do? McCarthy wasn’t strong enough to help carry Mossy out. Denny felt paralyzed with indecision until he heard a rustling sound below him. Mossy’s foot was moving and he was blinking his eyes. He bent down quickly. “Mossy, are you okay?”
Mossy looked confused, like he was having trouble focusing on Denny—like my mother looks—and he tried to sit up. Denny put an arm under his shoulders and tried to help, finally wrestling him into a sitting position. “Denny?” His voice was gritty, like he had just gargled with sand.
“Mossy, are you okay, what happened?”
Moses swallowed hard. “I’m not sure, I was waiting for you, counting out ten minutes in my head. I sat down… I think I fell asleep!”
Denny’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought…” Then he started laughing. For a minute Mossy stared blankly at him, then realizing what Denny meant, he joined him in the laughter.
“It’ll take more than a close scrape with the police to put me out of commission,” he said with a smile. “Now help me up and let’s get out of here. The bugs are eating me alive. Ha, get it, alive?” And he began to laugh again as Denny helped him to his feet. Denny grabbed the backpack and they headed out.
As they made their way through the dense brush Denny began to fill Mossy in on Father McCarthy. Denny stopped short and Mossy almost bowled him over in the darkness. “Denny, what…”
“Shh. I think I heard something.” Denny whispered. From all around them the soundtrack of night seemed to grow louder. Crickets, peepers and mosquitoes harmonized while a wispy rustling of leaves from the warm breeze provided background. Then the crack of a nearby branch silenced the crickets and sent Denny’s heart to his mouth. He stood rooted to the spot as another twig snapped even closer. Run or fight? Running wasn’t an option with Mossy to think about. He knew it wasn’t the police—they’d have flashlights at least. The other possibilities ranged from Crawford and his thugs to whatever the contents of the backpack were meant to kill. As the branches directly in front of him began to part, he aimed his flashlight to where he thought was eye-level and as soon as a shape moved from the branches he flicked it on. He hoped to temporarily blind the person (thing), shove him (it) to the ground and make a run for the car. The first part of his plan worked great—Father McCarthy couldn’t see a thing once the light hit him. “Father, what the hell are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.” From behind him he heard a snort of laughter out of Mossy.
“Denny, is that any way to talk to a man of God?” Mossy snickered.
McCarthy blinked and tried to shield the light with his outstretched hands. “Denny, turn that thing away. I thought the Lord himself had come to get me. And your friend is right, what kind of language is that for a young man?”
Denny pointed the light toward the ground and waited until his heart rate came down to a safe level. “Sorry, Father. I thought it was…” No point in getting into that right now in the middle of the woods, the Great and Powerful Oz chuckled. “Sorry. Let’s get out of here.” Denny saw McCarthy glance at Mossy with a frown and a look of… recognition? Then he turned and headed back to the car.
Nobody spoke as they made their way back to the relative safety of the street and into McCarthy’s car. But that was as long a reprieve as Denny would get. “Okay, Denny, it’s time you fill me in on whatever is going on. And… Mr. Rodman is it… what are you doing with this young boy?”
Denny opened his mouth, still unsure of what was going to come out, but was interrupted. “Perhaps I can help explain. My name isn’t Frank Rodman, it’s Moses Blaakman. I’m Denny’s grandfather.” Mossy got the reaction he was going for as McCarthy’s eyes shot to the rear view mirror to get a better look at the man. “I came back to Haven to finish what I started 35 years ago. Denny was just showing me around the old neighborhood.”
McCarthy said nothing as they drove through the empty streets but his eyes kept flickering to the mirror, as if he thought this man claiming to be Denny’s grandfather might disappear as quickly as he had shown up. When they pulled into McCarthy’s driveway, he finally spoke. “Let’s go in the house, I’ll make some tea, and we’ll all figure this out together.”
“Sounds lovely,” Moses said a bit too gleefully. He sounded to Denny like he’d just been asked to attend a dinner party more than to explain why he was hiding in the woods in the middle of the night with a twelve-year-old boy he claimed was his grandson.
(77)
Father McCarthy sat staring at the unlikely group in his living room. The old man, Moses, had been talking for a long time, pausing only to sip his tea. And the story he told… it was incredible. More than once McCarthy glanced at the bookshelf that held his books on Bigfoot, Loch Ness and UFO’s. This tale put those to shame.
“So, Father, that’s how I ended up back here in Haven. I’m sorry I had to lie to you that day at the cemetery, but I hope you understand, I didn’t want to involve anyone unnecessarily.”
“But you were willing to involve a couple of children.” McCarthy snapped.
Mossy’s faced reddened and he cast his eyes toward the floor. For a minute, McCarthy didn’t think he was going to answer. “Yes, I know it was wrong, but I had to get what I needed to make the poison. And I still need them to help me get to the caves. Then they’re out, and I go in alone to… do what I have to do.”
McCarthy felt bad for sounding hostile. This man had been through so much, and lived with so much… it was an inconceivable burden. And to return here at his age to finally face this thing—and McCarthy believed that there was in fact a “thing” to face—it was very courageous. “I’m sorry Moses, I do understand, I just don’t want any more harm to come to Haven’s children.”