Return to Red Creek Nathan Hystad (e books free to read .txt) 📖

wet soil, to emerge in a new sealed-in room. The misty black hand reaching for him as the wood panels splintered open to reveal a young Deputy Cliff, eyes wide and disbelieving.

The smell of rotting apples. It filled his nose, and he was drowning in it.

“Paul, what the hell is wrong with you?” Darrel asked, shaking Paul by the shoulders. Paul blinked his eyes wide and saw his worried brother-in-law staring at him nervously.

“Nothing,” Paul lied. He could get through this. There were too many memories and emotions tied up to this orchard, and his mind was just reliving the trauma. He needed to focus.

“You’re bleeding,” Darrel said, and pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket. Paul momentarily wondered if it was used before dabbing blood away from his dripping nose. Another nosebleed. After the last time he’d been in Red Creek, Terri had demanded he have an MRI. Nothing was out of the ordinary. There was no reason for the nosebleeds, and the doctor suggested it was the crisp fall air.

Now, with dampness and humidity thick in the air, Paul knew it was something else, related to this property. He glanced towards his feet and saw only one had crossed over the gate’s boundary. He had the urge to step back onto the gravel road and to get into the truck to wait for Tyler.

Darrel still looked worried, but he turned and started walking alongside the low wooden fence separating the land from the forest beside it. Up ahead, Paul saw a farmer’s field, the land that now belonged to the Karlssons, according to Detective Bartlett. Their son Fredrik had been taken, and Bartlett had followed the trail to this very land.

Paul’s stomach growled as he followed Darrel along the fence line. His sister’s husband was walking cautiously, his rifle resting over his left forearm. They walked in silence for the first half mile, until they caught up to the farmer’s field, and Paul pointed to the Karlssons’ house, which was a tiny dot with all the lights on.

“Was that even there before?” Paul asked.

“I think so. I don’t think the entire field was this open back then. Actually, the fire probably destroyed part of the forest. Plus, with the tall fence and the orchard being full of mature apple trees, it would have been harder to see the farmhouse.” Darrel made good points.

It was strange being there without the apple trees. The land felt dead, barren, and cold. At least the initial sensation Paul had been bombarded with had drifted away, leaving him feeling like himself for the most part.

He hoped Taylor was safely in Gilden, and that she wouldn’t return until it was all over. Paul thought he could sense the entity nearby, but he wasn’t sure. He wanted Tyler to hurry the hell up and arrive so they could bash Emma’s door down and get some answers. He gripped his gun tightly and knew there was no way she was keeping secrets from them. He’d make sure of it.

Paul shook the deadly thoughts from his mind. Who was this man taking over? But he knew at once. It was a father, a man who’d do anything to protect his family. Anything.

They proceeded along the perimeter until they were across the property, on the north edge. There was no fence here now, just trees from the bordering forest. A few saplings had spread into the orchard, and Paul noticed some youngling spruce and birch trees poking up, thriving in the fertile land.

Darrel stopped ahead and pointed to the right. “That’s where the barn used to be.” He cut in now, moving for the region where the barn had once stood for over eighty years. “We filled it in after they salvaged what little evidence was left. They were pissed you guys burned it to the ground. Well, Jason was blamed, but you know that.” Darrel stopped at the dirt patch, slight amounts of grass tufts sticking out from the ground. It was as if even nature didn’t want anything to do with what had gone on underground here.

Paul stepped through where the barn’s exterior wall would have been and prepared for an onslaught on his senses, but there was no change. He was glad. Maybe his initial reaction to the orchard was nothing but repressed memories and post-traumatic stress.

“This would be where the trap door was, right?” Paul asked as he took lengthy steps, stopping near the far end of the dirt patch.

“I’d say you’re right on there. I can’t believe I shot Jason by accident. I remember seeing that shadow thing, screaming and firing. God, I’m surprised Jason even talked to me after that,” Darrel said.

It was raining lightly, and a chill coursed through Paul as the breeze picked up. “Jason Benning was a good man. He stuck with us through it all and knew exactly what he was doing at the end. He wanted to take the bastard down for killing his kid. Isaac was the one thing in the world that loved him with no reservations. The shadow took that from him. The Smiths took it from him.” Regret filled Paul as he thought about his old friend. Maybe things would have been different if Paul had stayed in touch with the old gang after moving out at eighteen.

“The past doesn’t exist, neither does tomorrow. Only the now is here,” he whispered to himself, repeating the mantra from one of his old self-help books.

“What’s that?” Darrel said.

“Nothing. Let’s keep moving.” Paul zipped his jacket up tighter, and they proceeded towards the condo building. He could see the right edge of the parking lot in the distance, and one of the building’s lower-level units’ porch lights were on. Paul thought he saw a dark form pass in front of the exterior light, but couldn’t be sure. “Darrel, we need to be careful. We ran into this head-first last time because we weren’t any wiser. Now we know what we’re up against. It’s going to