sixty-four

HAYWOOD MADE HIS WAY through another morning, gearing up for one more day of searching the wilds for Michael.

A wise man once said, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing,” and Haywood was nothing if not a good man. He was utterly and thoroughly convinced that he was good, and it was his duty not to let evil triumph.

Nothing reinforced his resolve more than when Earl had called him and told him of the body in the river.

Some of the local kids had been fishing off the banks of the Coldwater River just north of town when one of them saw a man lying on the far bank. His legs were in the water and he was facedown in the dirt. The boys didn’t know if it was a corpse or a zombie, and neither of them had the guts to find out, no matter how many double-dog dares were heaped up on each other. They had run back to the road and flagged down the first passing motorist. It had been Frank and Earl on their way into town. In this coincidence, Haywood felt the gods smiling on him.

Haywood arrived to find an almost carnival atmosphere. The group of boys were toeing the water of the south bank, gawking at the sight of the comatose body. One managed the courage to whip a rock at the body and missed wide. Haywood’s booming voice caused the other kids to drop their stones and part like the Red Sea as he moved in to have a look.

Frank had crossed the river and was down on the bank, trying to snag the body, while trying not to at the same time. He wanted to look useful but didn’t want to be the one who actually had to touch the man in the river, if it turned out he was dead. Earl was holding on to Frank’s shirttails, trying his best to keep his friend from sliding into the water.

“Who is it?” Haywood yelled, his voice carrying over the river like a thundercloud.

“Don’t know,” Earl said. “We haven’t been able to get a good look at the face.”

“Is it Michael?”

Earl didn’t respond. He kept his concentration on Frank, who was just a couple inches shy of reaching the body with his hand.

“Got him!” Frank yelled from the river side. He was pulling the body onto shore, trying his best not to touch the stranger, as if he was afraid death would be transferred to him. “And he ain’t dead!”

Just then, the man in the water opened his eyes. Frank shot back, and it was all he and Earl could do to keep from tumbling head over heels into the Coldwater. The man’s eyes focused and then he pushed himself up and over until he was sitting on the bank. There was a wound on his leg that started to seep as soon as it was above the waterline.

Haywood strained his eyes and recognized the man. It was the man from the cabin. Nick fixed Haywood with a strong glare. It was a stare that pierced to the bone, even across the flowing water. Haywood could feel pressure building in the base of his skull like a thumb pressed to the top of his spine. He watched as Nick got to his feet and took a couple steps up the embankment, then sat down again.

“You want to tell us what happened?” Haywood shouted.

“Ain’t your concern,” Nick said.

“Something tells me that’s not the case. You look like you could use some help.”

Nick took his shirt off and wrapped it around his damaged leg. He cinched it tight and then stood upright. There were bruises over his body, and he looked like he’d played chicken with a train and came up on the losing side.

“I know who did that to you,” Haywood said, doing his best to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. “I knew he was probably out your way too. You should have let us know the other night.”

Nick stood motionless. His body language gave no indication that he felt like talking to Haywood, which riled Haywood up even more. The man turned and walked north into the woods, one leg dragging behind him, and disappeared from sight.

“I don’t know why you’d be protecting him. We’re on the same side!” Haywood yelled, his voice echoing back to him from the other shore.

Frank and Earl made their way back to the south shore to join Haywood. Most of the kids had run off now that the excitement was over, and the three men stood on the riverbank.

In the distance a siren could be heard approaching their location.

“You called the cops?” Haywood asked with more irritation than he had intended.

“Of course we did. There was a possible dead body floating into town. What did you think we were going to do?” Earl said, exasperation tainting his voice.

“Alright. Alright. Calm down.”

“No, I will not calm down!” Earl responded, summoning the strength to talk back to Haywood for the first time in his life. Glancing around at a few kids still lingering around him, he reduced the volume but spoke in a strong whisper. “I will not calm down. This is completely out of control. This is beyond anyone’s control. We have dead men in stores, on roads, and now we got people floating in the river. It’s like the whole area has turned into a slaughterhouse. And it all started with you.”

“Me?” Haywood said.

“You got us all worked up, telling us some story about how Michael was a danger to us all, and now all this is happening.”

“What more proof do you need that I was right?”

“Right? No, no no. You are dead wrong,” Earl said. “We were all doing fine until you got us caught up in your . . . your . . . insanity.”

“Insanity? You better watch yourself, Earl. You just better—”

“Or what? Huh? You going to put me six feet under too? If you haven’t noticed, there’s not going to be too much of us left to help you do that. And for the life of me, I ain’t going to go quiet.”

Haywood looked at Earl. The man was scared out of his mind. He couldn’t fault him for that, but his patience with Earl’s inability to see Michael as the real root of all evil was starting to drive him to the brink of hysteria. He grabbed Earl’s arm and shook him with an iron grip.

“Don’t threaten me, Earl. Don’t you dare. Just because you’re blind to the real threat that is hanging over our heads. Has been hanging over our heads since that cretin moved back here. The only guilt you should feel is the guilt of not having the courage to wipe Michael out of existence. And we share in that. You, me, Frank . . . all of us.”

A steely silence filled the space between the three men. The siren in the distance was getting closer. Haywood turned and walked back up toward the road, readying himself to send the policemen back to South Falls again. Frank and Earl caught up to him.

“What do you think happened to that guy?” Frank asked, trying to defuse the already tense situation.

“Don’t know, but we’d be foolish to think it wasn’t Michael.”

“How long you think he was lying in the river?” Frank said.

“Not long,” said Haywood. “A couple hours, a day maybe.”

“If it’s Michael, then that means . . . ,” Earl whispered.

Frank and Earl looked at each other.

“It means . . . Michael’s coming back toward town,” Haywood said. “First, we have to get rid of these cops you called. After that, I’m going to make sure he’s got nothing to come back to.”