“It’s fine,” she said dismissively. “I’ll take the old bike. Let’s go.”
She didn’t wait for more questions. She had no interest in retelling the story.
She grabbed the old bike from the garage and climbed on, pedaling onto the road and leaving Sid and Shane hurrying to catch up with her.
Three blocks over, Ashley saw the birds and pointed. “Look.”
She stopped in the middle of the street, feeling oddly calm.
“But Ash, it’s not a good idea. Starfire is busted and-”
But she didn’t wait to hear more. She jumped on the old bike, grinding the pedals until they clicked into gear and flew into the trees.
“Meet me at The Crawford House,” she shouted over her shoulder.
The trail was rough, not one any of the kids used due to all the roots. She made noise as she rode, laughing, talking. She wasn’t sure when she started to cry, but she noticed the cool wetness on her cheeks when the air hit them.
A sound emerged behind her. She glanced back, expecting to see the creature lumbering through the woods. Instead she spotted Travis Barron, a malicious grin on his face.
“Haven’t had enough, spic?” he shouted.
Ashley almost stopped, and she felt her legs slow. She wasn’t afraid of Travis. She wanted to fight. She wanted to toss her bike to the side, find a stick, and whack him across the face with all her strength. But beyond Travis, in the shadows of the trees, a white face glimmered. She faced forward and pumped her legs. The fear that hadn’t been there seconds before stole over her, tracing the back of her neck like cold fingers.
She shuddered and cursed Travis in her mind. He was going to ruin everything.
Her brain scrambled ahead to the house.
Only one entrance and one exit. If Travis ran in behind her, he’d be trapped inside with the monster. A part of her wanted nothing more than to do just that, but knew she couldn’t.
“Fucking Travis,” she spit, her feet ramming the pedals.
She hit a root and came down hard, knowing instantly the back tire had gone flat again. Glancing down, she saw the tube breaking loose. It caught, and she had only a second to register what was happening. The bike stopped completely and sent her plunging forward. She leaped to the side, letting the bike fall in the path.
She landed on her feet, but then stumbled forward and pitched onto her hands. Behind her, Travis cursed as he ran over her bike, getting tangled and going down as well.
She didn’t pause, but instead jumped up and ran for The Crawford House.
“Poser,” she shrieked as she dodged through the trees. She needed Travis to follow her now. If she left him behind, the monster might attack him.
She hated Travis Barron, hated him more than she’d ever hated another human being, and yet she couldn’t stomach his picture on the news the following morning. She might not make it, but she had to try.
42
Percy rode in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
“Are you sure you’re up for this, Percy?” Max asked for the third or fourth time.
The man looked pale. His eyes were yellow, and when he’d eaten his breakfast his hand shook so badly it had taken him several tries to manage a bite.
Percy turned to face him. “The children you told me about…” His face creased, and he touched a hand to his heart. “It’s my fault they’re dead. I brought the bones back. I practically gave them to Dr. Lance.”
“Do you truly believe he could have fashioned the same dolls the tribe made? And that they’d work? They’d turn kids into the El Lobizon?”
Percy looked away, watching the trees. “I know he could. I described the dolls the tribe used. I gave him everything he needed. He chose children because he thought they’d be less dangerous. He was wrong.”
“And I’m meant to believe it’s a child then that’s killing the kids in Roscommon?”
Percy sighed, rolling the window down and leaning out. When he pulled his head back in, he looked straight ahead as if he didn’t want to look Max in the eyes. “It’s a child’s body, but it is the spirit of El Lobizon.”
The drive to Traverse City took an hour. When they turned into the tunnel of trees leading to the towering asylum, Percy stiffened.
“Are you okay?” Max asked.
“Yes. I’m trying to imagine where he would hide the children. There are areas in the hospital that are closed, including an old children’s wing. We should go there.”
The children’s wing occupied a desolate stretch on the ground floor of a large building that had been unoccupied for several years. As issues surrounding institutions came to light, coupled with advances in medication, much of the Northern Michigan Asylum had been closed.
Max pushed on the double doors, but they found them to be locked.
Percy leaned against a brick column. “Let’s go around the side of the building.”
As they walked the perimeter, they spotted a light shining from a window.
Max and Percy crept closer.
A series of twin beds stood side by side in the space. A rack held boy’s clothes. One corner of the room contained children’s toys, the kind young kids would play with, but Max also saw the types of things older boys would like as well. He noted three handheld video game players on a table. Teen boys’ shoes sat in a neat row by the door.
The door to the room opened, and a man walked in.
Percy flinched, nearly falling onto his back. Max caught him.
“It’s him,” Percy hissed. “It’s Guy Lance.” He clutched his chest, his breathing ragged.
“Shh… okay. Breathe. Calm down, okay? I don’t think your body can handle all this excitement. Maybe you better wait in the car,” Max said.
Percy stood up taller, dropping his hands to his sides.
“Absolutely not. I make amends for my sins, Max. I will not walk away.”
Max sighed, flustered, but he didn’t argue. “Where are the kids?”
Percy turned and gazed at the sky. “We’re in the waxing moon cycle, still three-quarters full. They’re experimenting with the bones. The kids are likely under the spell of the El Lobizon as we speak.”
“What does that mean?” Max demanded. “That they’re out killing people?”
Percy shook his head. “I certainly hope not. I’m sure they’re confined when they transition. I think I know where they’d take them. There’s a room in the woods. The day I saw Lance with the child, he was taking the boy in there.”
Max and Percy walked into the dense forest behind the Northern Michigan Asylum. It was a moonless night, and the darkness seemed to harbor all the terrors of childhood, monsters and demons and evil witches who ate children. All the horror stories Max had ever heard felt much closer after hearing Percy’s unbelievable tale, an impossible tale that made a frightening amount of sense.
They pushed into brush, feeling for the door Percy had described. After a half hour, Max’s fear was replaced by frustration.
His mind wandered again and again to the worry that Percy was truly mad and Max had embarked on a futile quest and was wasting precious time.
He walked up to a wall of twisted vines and brush, pushing his hands into the mass.
His expected the tough edges of a berm, but found chilly emptiness behind the brush. The temperature felt several degrees cooler.
“I think I found it,” he said.
Percy ran to where he stood, shoving his flashlight into the darkness and forcing his head through.
Max followed him, shocked as he stepped through the brush into a dark stone tunnel. It was cool and clammy and stank of sulfur.