The Legend Unleashed. L.S. Strange
looked up, but nothing was there. His eyes scanned the area around them. The clamor of the nearby scene took over, and the breeze died off.
“Did you hear anything?” John asked the group. The men looked at him as if he were just being a pain when they had to figure out what to do.
Michael looked squarely at John and asked, “You heard your name, didn’t you?”
John’s attention was now riveted on his nephew. “Did you hear it too?”
“No, it was the way you looked that made me think that.”
John looked hard at Michael and resolved that he was telling the truth and prodding him would be to no avail. “Did I really hear it? No, it must have been the wind, maybe the name of one of the emergency staff,” he thought. John dismissed it, but Michael did not and was still looking at John to see what he would do next. He returned his attention to the problem at hand.
Ron glared at Bob, then took a few steps back. Bob was still thrusting his chest out with his arms jetting out behind him trying to be intimidating. He looked quite silly.
“Son of a—” Bob stopped short. He remembered his promise to Laura that he would not curse on this trip. She didn’t want her son exposed to that sort of language, and if he did not honor her wishes, she would never defend him against the family again. Bob stammered for a moment then bellowed, “I mean, what now?”
“Move along,” a police officer commanded as he approached the group. He looked tired and irritable. His rumpled uniform, and the stubble on his chin said he had been there for a long time. His eyes were blood shot, and he squinted as he peered at the group.
“What happened?” Scott asked curiously while straining to get a better view.
“Well…” the officer looked him over and decided it would be all over the news soon anyhow. “We don’t know for sure. All the patrons were killed within the last twenty-four hours. None were able to make it to safety.”
“Killed? It looks as though they were slaughtered,” John interjected.
“Not slaughtered!” the officer snapped. “Could have been a gas explosion, but we don’t have enough evidence to publicly state any conclusion.”
“Is there a homicidal maniac loose we need to be worried about?” Ron asked.
“Nah, don’t worry about a thing. Now you have to move along.”
“But…” Scott started.
“No buts, you can’t stay here. I’m tired, folks. Just go, find another campground. The mountains are full of them. Don’t make me have to arrest you for obstruction.”
“All right,” Scott replied.
The officer looked relieved that he did not have to expend the little amount of energy he had left. Scott turned to face the others. All of them stood there looking at him for an answer. Ron tried to save Scott.
“Hey, we’re in the mountains, the high country. The cop’s right! Surely this can’t be the only campground. Why don’t we drive down the road until we see another? Or, I could use my data and Google one.” Scott didn’t miss a beat and eagerly picked up where Ron left off.
“Yeah, that sounds great. There’s one just up the road according to Google Maps.” He looked at everyone to see if this idea would fly. Scott knew he couldn’t get a response on his android phone, even with the data roaming on. There was no connection. John, totally upset, began to whine.
“We can’t just aimlessly drive around without knowing where we’re going! We could be out here for days, no signal, nothing! No one would find us!”
Ron stated, “Okay, if you don’t believe him, let’s go old school and use an actual map. The little triangles indicate campgrounds. I’ll navigate.” He flashed the map so that the others could see the triangles but turned it around quick enough that they couldn’t make out where the triangles were, and that the symbol really meant off-road trails. Scott took his cue and went back to the van, hopped in and started the engine. Ron took the front passenger seat. Everyone else climbed in the back and took a seat. Scott looked worried and Ron winked at him.
“Here it is. There’s another one down the road a few miles. It’s settled. On to the next campground!”
No one said a word because none of them had a better idea. Scott slowly backed up to a spot big enough so that he could turn around. Ron hoped that this would end up being one of those situations that you looked back on and laughed. He had a dreaded feeling that it would not.
Scott steered onto the pavement and continued down the road. He kept his eyes peeled for another intersection or sign leading to a campground. The tension was mounting inside the van, so thick you could cut it with a knife. With each passing mile, the pressure increased. Scott thought that at any moment, one of them would start asking why they hadn’t spotted a campground. Many miles passed, and he was afraid he would be exposed when a junction came into view. It seemed to rise up from the road out of nowhere, appearing hazy at first like when the sun plays tricks on a sweltering summer day and creates mirages on the scorching road that look like puddles of water. As they neared it, the haziness went away along with the tension. It still had a fuzzy haze around it, barely noticeable, but it was there.
“This is it!” Scott announced as though he had planned it and turned off the highway onto the unknown road. After he turned, Scott remained focused on the road ahead. He didn’t notice that the turnoff once again became hazy and then disappeared. The intersection was gone, and only wild brush and plants covered the spot where the turnoff had been, as though it had melted into the ground.
The road began to narrow to one lane that was leading deep into the woods to a place that had been quiet and empty for a long time. All these jagged mountain trails looked the same to Scott, and he was feeling disoriented but kept on driving. The road twisted around through the woods, which blocked out long distance sight. They came upon a small decrepit wooden sign. It was barely hanging onto the post with one desperate hinge that refused to give way. The wood of the sign was scarred and weather beaten, parts of it had eroded away. It bore the name “Habercroft Sanctuary” in old English style script. Underneath the name was inscribed, “Cultivation for the body.” The words were barely legible; the elements of time had taken their toll.
“Here we are!” Scott exclaimed, elated at the discovery which cloaked his lie. The “doubting Thomas’s” were all amazed.
Scott drove over to a building that was on the brink of collapsing and parked. Some of the windows had panes that were cracked in several places, while others were just gaping holes. Only shards of glass remained intact in the frame testifying that there had once been a complete window there. Several of the siding boards had holes that have glimpses of the inside. It appeared as if a mild breeze would demolish the structure. “I must be in the office,” Scott thought. Aloud he said, “I’ll go check in. You guys can stretch your legs for a few minutes.”
“Are you crazy?” John yelled. “You’re going to check us into a campground that’s right out of ‘Don’t go in the Woods’ or ‘Night of the Living Dead?’ No way.”
Bob stepped up close to John, so close that John could feel Bob’s breath on the back of his neck. “You’re not scared, are you?” Bob taunted.
In a shaky voice, John stammered, “No!” A malicious grin spread across Bob’s face. Being a jerk was natural talent for Bob. The others got out of the van and began to survey the surroundings. Ron put his arm around John’s neck. “Don’t listen to the asshole. We’re okay.” Ron smiled reassuringly at John, which relieved some of John’s anxiety but not all of it.
Scott walked up to the building and noted there were two shiny new padlocks on a glass door that was only frame, no glass in it. “Who would like this piece of shit? Anyone could just walk in,” Scott thought. Looking back at the others, everything else looked all right. The trees were green, the sky blue, and the birds chirped. These