Scratch, page 29
But something fought against them. Something was helping the demon in his lair.
Nellie opened her eyes and allowed her voice to slip into the same strange gargling sound as the others. Soon it would be over and order would be restored. Soon, Raz would speak the true names and all would be well in Canaan once more.
It was Jack’s turn to speak.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Adam still held Michaela tightly against his chest. His free hand held the flashlight on the wounded boy in front of him.
“You… you’re like her, aren’t you?” he said.
“You mean my sister.” Scratch’s voice, though rough with neglect, was soft and melodious.
“Gabrielle,” Adam affirmed.
“Their name, not ours,” the boy said and coughed up blood. The strain of speaking was obviously draining him.
“Heal me,” he pleaded again.
“Heal you?” Adam said. “I don’t know how to do that. I’m not a doctor, and I certainly don’t have the kind of power that Gabri… that your sister does.”
“Yes, you do,” Scratch said. “She has touched you, awakened your spirit. You carry her touch within your own. You may not be able to heal your own like she does, but you can carry her touch to me.
“Heal me.”
Adam shook his head, unsure of what to do. He knew, at the very least, he couldn’t leave this boy chained here. He didn’t know how he was going to get his injured body back out through the narrow tunnel, but he had to try something.
“Mike, will you be okay if I put you down?”
Michaela nodded, her eyes still trained on Scratch. The boy fascinated her. Adam set her down on her feet and began to untie the shoestring on his belt.
“I have someone here who wants to see you,” he said, and handed Buggly, as filthy and beat as Adam and Michaela, to her. Her eyes lit up and she smiled as she took the bear and clutched it to her chest. A dirty thumb plopped into her mouth and she turned back toward Scratch. She slowly walked toward him.
Adam almost grabbed her, almost shouted for her to stay back, to be careful. He didn’t. After everything she had been through her curiosity and compassion drew her toward the boy. She looked at Scratch, and then turned back to Adam.
“He’s hurt,” she said. “Do something, Daddy.” Adam smiled, still not used to hearing the word.
“I’ll try, sweetheart,” he said. “Could you hold the flashlight for me.” She nodded with exaggerated enthusiasm, and pulled her spit-smeared thumb out of her mouth. Adam handed the light to her.
He stepped next to the shelf and looked down on the boy. The chains were loosely fastened to the wall, rusty and weak from the years. He thought the boy should have been able to pull them loose, but then remembered the injuries, and made the assumption that something other than just the chains held him here.
But, first things first: Adam grabbed the chains and, careful not to hurt Scratch further, yanked them from the wall. They broke loose with ease.
A circle of flames surrounded them and the same pale blue light that Adam had seen around Gabrielle illuminated the cavern. It gave off no heat, but seemed instead to suffuse the chamber with a cool, soothing atmosphere. Mike’s eyes got really wide and she smiled at Adam. Sure that his own eyes were wide with wonder, Adam looked down at Scratch.
“Now what?” he asked.
“You know what to do,” Scratch said.
Adam nodded. He did know what to do. He placed his hands on the sides of Scratch’s face and closed his eyes.
He gritted his teeth and tried not to scream as the all of the pain of the last hundred years of Canaan washed up his arms and out into the cold heart of the mountain.
* * * * *
Adam watched as the history of the valley spooled before his senses. His first sensations were those of flying, free and happy, with no real sense of time in the way that humans reckoned it. Centuries passed with little change to the foliage and the land. Tribes of humans came and went, always with men of power who would interact with the spirit people, taking their gifts of healing and leaving gifts of their own.
The first Europeans arrived and permanent dwellings were built. They traded with the natives, and fought with them, each side killing its share of the other.
A man came then, Lars Toland, bearing magic from the old country. Most of the Europeans did not believe in the spirit people; they thought they had left them behind in their own countries. Toland knew better. He was an ambitious man who wished to secure power for himself and his community. He learned what he could of the spirit people from an old native. Using ancient magic he had brought with him, combined with the knowledge he had gained here, he journeyed to the space between the worlds and there, somehow, had learned the true names of two of the spirit beings.
Armed with this information he created the spell of binding. He forged a circle in a spot of power, and summoned Gabrielle and Scratch. They appeared, as they had always done when someone called upon them in this manner, but when they manifested they were trapped in the forms Toland had chosen. The chains of cold iron were placed upon their wrists and they were bound. Toland had the church built upon the power spot, and Gabrielle was placed within where she would forget what she was, where her healing powers could be used. Scratch was placed within the mountain to bear the pain of their injuries and their sins.
Time passed more slowly now. Both of them were trapped within its flow, bound by the routines of the humans.
Adam bore witness to all the little injuries that Gabrielle had healed and Scratch had endured: Cuts and bruises, broken bones and gunshot wounds, the myriad ways in which humanity suffered in its frailty.
With each of these that Adam absorbed a small part of Scratch’s body healed.
He saw all of Canaan’s secret guilt as well. He peeked through the curtain of Scratch’s memory, seeing more than even Rita Halliwell could dare to imagine. Lies and insults, infidelities and broken promises, shame and fear and guilt, all of these provided the seasoning for the meals that had sustained Scratch, and Adam felt them all.
Every small act of violence was made clear to him: fights among children over toys and perceived infractions of the rules of a game, black eyes between farmers over disputed property lines, drunken brawls between miners on payday.
He felt too many women and children beaten, too many people killed, too much pain. Too many lies had been told, too many secrets kept, too many people put in the Boneyard because they had come too close to discovering what lie in the dark heart of Canaan.
Oh My God, Joe and Elmer, he thought.
Most of this passed through Adam quickly. He felt the pain, but most of the people were strangers, long dead. It was the suffering of humanity, much like what occurred in any community, unfortunate but impersonal. He had learned a long time ago that, as much as he would like to save the world he could do it just a little bit at a time. His empathy for those who had suffered was great, but he had to let it go in order to help. The pain must pass through him; the darkness must be filtered out so that healing can take place.
But, because of his personal connection to them, some of the stories of Canaan were more difficult to ignore.
Adam sat with Jack Hardy and Dora Porter on the porch swing of Jack’s house and listened to her fears for her husband, Harv, who had been drafted and was due to ship out for Europe any day. He felt the love Jack had for Dora, and the guilt it caused him. He leaned forward with Jack and felt Dora’s lips, so much like Holly’s, against his own. He knew the love Dora felt for Jack as well, and knew there was room in her heart for both men. He lay with them in a field the first time they made love, and found that even the guilt they shared tasted sweet. He wrapped himself in that secret when Harv showed up for a weekend leave before being shipped out, and knew that Dora loved him when she was in his arms, desperate with the fear that it may be their last time together.
Adam felt nine months of anxiety as Dora went through the stages of her pregnancy. Caroline could have belonged to either of the men. The timing was close enough to never know. But she did know. Caroline belonged to Jack, though that was a secret she revealed to no one throughout her long life.
Jack knew though, and he treated Caroline as his own during the two long years that Harv was away. Though some may have talked, people always do, no one really knew that Jack and Dora continued to warm each other’s beds throughout the war.
When Harv came home, the affair ended. Dora was Harv’s wife, and Caroline was his daughter, and Jack was his best friend, and no one questioned the rightness of this in the world.
Not for five years, anyway.
Adam stood with Jack in the shed that housed his still. It was sturdier then, and though the setup was the same as when Adam had visited it in the real world, the equipment was older, from another time. Harv came in, and like so many nights before, they began to drink. But Harv was in a mood. He was like that sometimes since the war. Before Jack knew what had changed Harv began to insult him for not going to Europe or Japan. Called him a coward and a lot of other things that he must have learned in the service, because no one in Canaan talked that way. Jack didn’t respond, partly because he knew Harv was drunk, and partly because he felt that in some ways his friend was right.
Then Harv asked him flat out if he had been fucking Dora while he was over there fighting for their freedom. Jack was speechless, which Harv took as an admission of guilt. He had sensed the truth of this for a long time, and as Caroline grew, and the freckles across her nose resembled Jack’s more and more...
Holly has those freckles, Adam realized.
the more betrayed he felt.
Harv jumped from the rocking chair quickly and grabbed a handful of Jack’s shirt and lifted him to his feet. Before Jack could react he had been thrown against the side of the shack. Jack looked into the red rage in Harv’s eyes and realized he had never seen him, or anyone, so angry. It occurred to Jack that Harv had been trained to kill, and had done so many times over in Germany. He truly believed Harv meant to do so again.
It wasn’t planned. Jack was simply reacting to protect himself. Afterwards he couldn’t even remember how the hammer had ended up in his hand. It must have been laying where he could grab it, for the next thing that was clear in his memory was the head of the hammer buried in Harv’s skull and the surprised look on Harv’s face.
Scratch had been there. It was the sweetest murder in the history of the valley, and the guilt Jack felt still kept him fed. Scratch rode on Jack’s shoulders as he dragged Harv to the quarry, tied weights to his body, and threw both him and the hammer into the black water. He then went back to the still and got drunker than he had ever been before.
He helped with the search for Harv, and comforted Dora throughout the ordeal and the memorial service that took place when all hope had been lost. He never slept with her again, and he never told her what had happened to her husband.
Tears coursed down Adam’s face as he felt half a century of guilt leap out of him and wash over the heart of the valley.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Raz, April, and Nellie droned their hideous hymn and waited for Jack to take up his portion of the chant. April and Nellie felt his hands shaking in theirs. He opened his mouth and stumbled over the first few syllables, stuttered, coughed, then started again. He stopped half way through a word. Sweat ran down his face as he gathered his courage to do what he knew he must.
“No!” he shouted and yanked his hands away from the surprised women. “That’s enough! I won’t be a part of this any more!”
The bubble of energy popped and the air pressure went back to normal. The water that had been pushed aside swept in around them, jarring the table and the chairs on which they sat.
“What are you doing?” April shouted. Raz began to speak the true names in a vain attempt to complete the ceremony.
“You old fool!” Nellie screeched. “You’ll kill us all!”
“Maybe,” Jack said. He pulled his pipe out of his pants pocket and bit down on the stem.
“Maybe,” he said around the unlit pipe, “maybe that’s what we deserve. We’ve been responsible for a lot of evil. I know I have been. Right now, I’m just gonna sit here and see what God will do if we’re not interfering.”
He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, content to wait for Judgment Day.
* * * * *
In the mountain the chains that were still attached to Scratch’s wrists began to crumble. They fell away from his arms and shattered in a puff of rusty powder as they hit the floor.
Adam opened his eyes and saw that the chamber was brighter than ever with the blue light. He took his hands away from the boy’s face, noticing a pale afterglow around them.
Scratch was whole again. His body was completely healed. He radiated health and wonder. Wings of deep blue-black had sprouted from his back and unfolded, shining wetly in the light. His hair was the same color, fine and radiant. He stood up from the shelf of rock and took Adam’s hand in his own.
“Thank you,” he said in a voice that was sweet and sublime.
“You’re welcome,” Adam said.
The ground around them began to shake. Dust rose in the tremors and rocks began to break off the walls.
Adam picked Michaela up and looked around the chamber. He felt the earth tremble through his legs.
“We need to get out of here,” he said, a note of panic in his voice.
“Thanks to you,” Scratch said, “I can.”
“We’ll never make it through the tunnel,” Adam said. During the healing he had relived the cave-in of 1937. He didn’t want to be trapped down here the way the miners had been.
“We won’t need to,” Scratch said. “The little spirits of the earth will keep us safe, like the little spirits of the air are helping my sister. Follow me.” With that, Scratch began to walk. The rock walls parted before him, and Adam saw shapes skittering through the dust. Though the earth still shook, nothing fell in the path Scratch took. Adam kissed Mike on the cheek and followed.
* * * * *
Gabrielle’s eyes blazed when the ritual came to its abrupt end. She felt the final links in the chain that had held her for so long shatter and fall. Through the bond she shared with her brother she felt his pain recede until there was nothing left of his injuries except the memory.
For the first time in over a century, she was completely free.
It was almost over.
She hovered above the town, cradled on the squall, wings and arms outspread. Light and electricity, along with a blue flame not natural to this world, wrapped her in a cocoon of energy and power.
She opened her mouth and whispered. It was a small word, one not uttered here since ancient times. It was the secret name that the spirit people had called this valley long before humans came to live here.
It was the true name of Canaan.
* * * * *
Raz continued to chant the true names of Gabrielle and Scratch, but without the ritual to give them power they were simply words now. He continued even as April stood and waded through the living room. She was running, hoping to escape. She knew they had failed and the evil had been set free in her valley.
She opened the front door and was assaulted by a wave of brown water. It knocked her over, filling her mouth and lungs, drowning out her final scream. She grabbed at the doorjamb as she was swept out of the house and toward the churchyard, but could find nothing to hold onto.
Nellie’s chair was knocked over by the wave. Raz and Jack could hear her brittle bones breaking as she was buffeted around the room like an old cork. She swallowed the filthy water like fine Kentucky bourbon. It filled her stomach and her lungs and she drowned before her head was crushed against the roll-top desk.
Raz died while holding the disintegrating book against his chest. Even as he was washed out of the parsonage to ride a wave of water to his doom he was praying, not for forgiveness, but to understand how he had failed in his sacred duty to God.
Jack was still in the house when it collapsed. His death was quick and far less painful than his life had been.
* * * * *
The ground opened under The First Church of the Blessed Angel of Canaan, West Virginia. The burning remains of the building tumbled inward. The hole, a nearly perfect circle, began to widen. The floodwaters swirled, drawing everything around the fissure down into its angry vortex. The stone steps and the ruined bell were sucked into its maw. The hole continued to expand until it reached the perimeter of the blue flames that still burned upon the surface of the moving water. Tombstones toppled in the cemetery. Coffins, many little more than rotted boxes, clawed loose from the soil that had held them and emerged, buoyantly seeking air. They were caught in the fists of the current and swept back into the ground, deeper than they had been before.
All the water in Canaan rushed toward the fissure, defying natural laws. A whirlpool with a crown of blue flames sat at the head of the valley and demanded its tribute. Those houses and buildings that had not yet fallen did so now, unable to stand against the pull of the fissure. Burning pieces of the store and the laundromat, along with their fixtures and contents, were swept across the stream and sucked into the ground. Cars and trucks were pulled along, flanked by beds and bodies.
The mountains around the valley began to tremble. Mudslides swept down the hills, wiping out trees, sheds and everything else that became caught in the flow. Ed and Abby’s trailer fell on its side and rolled three times down the bank until it came to rest against the cracked block wall of his garage. Jack’s house shook and cracks shot up from its foundations through the walls. It didn’t fall, but no one would ever live there again.
The Porter house, illuminated by the burning barn, stood untouched.
