Page 50 of Backwoods
Nick frowned. “Wait, you said he was still alive?”
“I didn’t say he stayed dead.”
Nick bit into a thick slice of bread, chewed vigorously. He was surprised by his appetite; perhaps raw fear was like a stimulant, increasing his hunger.
“So he came back,” Nick said, between bites. “Any idea how?”
“Only a theory.” Grandpa took a quick sip of coffee. “I think he did so much evil in his time, shed so much innocent blood on that fertile ground, that the land itself is tainted, in a spiritual sense. I think it attracted a certain class of powerful spiritual beings—entities, you may call ’em—like flies drawn to a rotting carcass. I think the Overseer came under their influence.”
“Demons,” Nick said, and felt a shiver.
“That’s what some people call them.” Grandpa Lee chewed on a small piece of bread, swallowed. “It’s why his mark has power. It comes from the land, from the spirits that have taken residence there. The land calls to people passing by. And the Overseer takes them, and the land feeds off their misery and suffering.”
“You said I’d need to kill him, but you didn’t say how,” Nick said.
Grunting, Grandpa Lee pushed away from the table. He shuffled across the room, to his bookcase, withdrew a slim volume from the shelf, and returned to the table, placing the book in front of Nick.
Nick wiped his hands on his jeans and picked it up.
“Drawings,” Nick said, turning pages. Each page held a skillfully rendered sketch of a different item, building, or place: a barn—which Nick recognized as the very barn in which he’d been imprisoned—and rooms inside the mansion, drawn with the flair of an architect.
“I’ve dreamed of those places, over the years,” Grandpa Lee said. “I’d draw what I could remember from my dreams. I’ve never set foot inside the house, son.” He tapped his head with his index finger. “It all came from up here.”
At the back of the book, Nick found a map of the entire property.
“You’ve got an entire map in here,” Nick said. “From what I’ve seen, it looks accurate, too.”
“Have you ever dreamed of Westbrook?” Grandpa Lee asked. “Have you ever dreamed of him?”
Nick paused. “Today, I did, when I was locked up in the barn. I dreamed he was going to put the mark on me.”
“Thirty-five years ago, after my daddy passed, I started dreaming of Westbrook and I couldn’t get it out of my head.” Grandpa Lee settled back into his chair. “I figured out that’s how the land calls us home. It’s in our blood, yours and mine. It’s the burden we bear.”
“The burden we bear forwhat? What didourancestors do, exactly, that has put this weight on us? I don’t understand our role in any of this.”
But Grandpa Lee was gazing out the window, eyes clouded with worry. “It’s time for you to get going, son. We could talk about this all night, but it’s not going to make sense until you see it for yourself.”
“Grandpa . . .” Nick shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know how to stop this guy. If I can’t do that, I can’t help those people get away. I can’t get back my girlfriend. I needanswers.”
But his grandfather was beckoning him to the door.
“You can take my book, the shotgun, and a pocketful of shells,” Grandpa Lee said. “Some water, too. That’s all I can give you. You need to hurry up and get out of here.”
33
Grandpa Lee wouldn’t allow Nick to drive his Range Rover back into Westbrook. He said it would attract attention, and Nick reluctantly agreed with him. Nick wasn’t the Caretaker, he was only the Caretaker’s grandson, and as he’d seen earlier, the authorities at Westbrook who knew this about Nick considered him a potential captive like everyone else.
He had to go back into the territory on foot, on his own. Grandpa Lee remained behind at the house. Nick worried about his granddad’s health, despite his apparent recovery. He worried that when he returned, he’d discover his grandfather unconscious again—or worse.
He had to put such thoughts out of mind and focus on the work ahead of him. Finding Amiya. Somehow, getting to the bottom of this Overseer business.
He jogged along the narrow dirt lane. The bridge into Westbrook proper loomed ahead, and he didn’t see Raven waiting where he’d left her. He’d been gone for over an hour, he estimated. To stay safe, she would have needed to keep moving. He expected to find her at their agreed-upon rendezvous point.
He crossed the bridge, his feet thumping across the wooden planks, and reached the other side. He hurried along the road.
Gunfire rang out, dangerously loud and close. Birds, startled by the noise, took flight from the trees.
Instinctively, Nick ducked and dashed to an elm tree for cover. He crouched in the tall weeds.
