The Hollow Season Chapters 21-22
By: C.M. Clark
Chapter Twenty-One — The Son
Nobody slept after the dead came to the house.
Steve tried.
He sat on the sofa until sunrise with a baseball bat across his knees.
It was ridiculous.
Everybody knew it was ridiculous.
The thing upstairs had worn Laura’s voice.
A dead biker could disappear with his motorcycle.
Hundreds of dead people had stood in the street and knelt to Alex.
A Louisville Slugger probably wasn’t going to turn the tide.
Still.
Steve kept it.
Jessica stayed beside him.
Alex and Jyllian sat on the floor beneath a blanket.
Nobody discussed the fact that Jyllian hadn’t let go of Alex’s hand for almost three hours.
Nobody discussed the fact that every few minutes she touched her stomach.
Alex noticed.
Of course he noticed.
He simply hadn’t asked.
Yet.
At 6:42, Jessica made coffee.
At 6:47, she poured whiskey into hers.
Steve stared.
Jessica stared back.
‘Don’t.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘Your face did.’
Steve looked at his own cup.
‘Fair.’
Alex sat at the kitchen table.
Barefoot.
Exhausted.
Eighteen years old for barely a day and already looking older.
Jyllian stood at the sink.
She hadn’t touched the coffee Jessica poured for her.
Alex watched.
‘You okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You look sick.’
‘I don’t feel good.’
Jessica glanced over.
‘Want toast?’
Jyllian’s face changed.
‘No.’
‘Crackers?’
‘No.’
‘Tea?’
Jyllian covered her mouth and ran.
Everyone froze.
Bathroom door slammed.
Alex stood.
Jessica looked at Steve.
Steve looked at Jessica.
Neither said anything.
Alex narrowed his eyes.
‘Why are you both doing that?’
‘Doing what?’ Steve asked.
‘That.’
‘Nothing.’
Jessica suddenly became very interested in coffee.
Alex stared.
Then followed Jyllian.
She was kneeling beside the toilet.
Alex crouched behind her.
‘Hey.’
‘I hate this.’
‘Being sick?’
‘Bathrooms.’
Alex laughed despite himself.
Jyllian looked over.
‘You’re laughing?’
‘Little bit.’
‘I might die.’
‘You already told me that’s complicated.’
She stared.
Alex smiled.
Eventually she did too.
Then her smile disappeared.
Alex brushed hair from her face.
Nothing happened.
No burn.
That frightened Jyllian more than when his touch hurt.
‘See?’
Alex noticed.
‘What?’
She took his hand.
Pressed it to her cheek.
Nothing.
Alex smiled.
‘Maybe whatever was happening stopped.’
Jyllian’s eyes filled.
‘Maybe.’
‘That’s good.’
She nodded.
But she didn’t believe it.
Alex knew.
‘Tell me.’
‘Not here.’
‘Why?’
Jyllian looked toward the door.
‘Because your father is listening.’
Outside:
‘I am absolutely not listening.’
Alex closed his eyes.
‘Dad.’
‘Thin walls.’
Jessica shouted:
‘Steve, come away from the door.’
‘I wasn’t at the door.’
‘You’re standing directly beside it.’
Alex looked at Jyllian.
For one strange second, they both laughed.
Normal.
Human.
Then Jyllian looked at his hand still against her cheek.
The fear returned.
Dan arrived at 8:15.
Nobody had invited him.
Steve opened the door.
‘How’d you know?’
Dan held up Nora’s compass.
‘This.’
Steve stared.
‘What about it?’
‘Wouldn’t stop moving.’
Dan walked inside.
‘Then it pointed here.’
Jessica looked at the compass.
‘That’s comforting.’
Dan noticed the broken front window.
‘What happened?’
Steve laughed.
‘You missed church.’
They told him.
The dead.
Hundreds.
Kneeling.
One word.
Dan didn’t interrupt.
When Steve finished, Dan looked at Jyllian.
‘Son.’
She didn’t answer.
‘You know what that means.’
‘I know what they said.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
Alex looked between them.
‘Here we go.’
Dan ignored him.
‘Why him?’
Jyllian crossed her arms.
‘I don’t know.’
Alex laughed.
‘She’s been saying that a lot.’
Dan looked at Alex.
Something shifted in his face.
‘What?’
Alex frowned.
‘What?’
Dan walked closer.
Studied him.
‘Your eyes.’
Steve stood immediately.
‘What about them?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Dan.’
Dan took out his phone.
Opened the camera.
Held it towards Alex.
‘Look.’
Alex rolled his eyes.
‘Seriously?’
‘Look.’
Alex did.
His reflection appeared.
Normal.
Then the image flickered.
For one frame, Alex wasn’t alone.
A figure stood directly behind him.
Tall.
Thin.
Its hands rested on Alex’s shoulders.
Dan dropped the phone.
Jessica screamed.
Alex spun.
Nothing there.
Jyllian whispered:
‘It’s getting closer.’
Alex stared at her.
‘To what?’
She couldn’t answer.
‘TO WHAT?’
The kitchen light burst.
Steve grabbed Alex.
Alex pulled away.
‘Stop.’
‘I’m trying to—’
‘I know.’
Alex looked at everyone.
‘Everybody keeps grabbing me.’
His breathing changed.
‘Everybody keeps talking about me like I’m not in the room.’
‘Alex—’
‘I’m right fucking here.’
Jyllian moved towards him.
He raised a hand.
She stopped.
‘Don’t.’
That hurt her.
Alex saw.
He hated himself for it.
But he left anyway.
Steve followed.
Alex walked fast.
Down the hill.
Towards Main Street.
‘Alex.’
Nothing.
‘Alex.’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘No.’
Alex turned.
‘Why?’
‘Because yesterday a cemetery showed up outside the house and called you son.’
Alex laughed bitterly.
‘They weren’t buried.’
Steve stopped.
Alex did too.
‘What?’
Alex stared at the pavement.
‘I can feel them.’
Steve’s stomach tightened.
‘Since when?’
‘Since the hole.’
‘What do you mean feel?’
Alex struggled.
‘They’re everywhere.’
He pointed.
‘There’s a woman underneath that building.’
Steve stared at a souvenir shop.
‘Alex.’
‘She died in 1926.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I don’t know.’
Alex looked across Main Street.
‘There’s a man beneath the road.’
His eyes moved.
‘Two kids near the creek.’
He turned slowly.
‘Somebody inside the Buffalo wall.’
Steve whispered:
‘Stop.’
‘I can’t.’
Alex looked at him.
Terrified.
‘I know their names.’
Steve stepped closer.
‘Then don’t say them.’
Alex’s eyes filled.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Exactly.’
He wiped his face.
‘Nobody knows anything.’
Steve grabbed the back of Alex’s neck.
Not controlling.
Fatherly.
The way he had when Alex was little.
‘Then we’ll figure it out.’
Alex laughed.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘Great plan.’
‘Best I’ve got.’
Alex looked at him.
Steve smiled weakly.
‘Historically, my plans have not been excellent.’
That got him.
Alex laughed.
Then cried.
Steve hugged him.
Alex held on.
Hard.
‘Dad.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What if I’m becoming one of them?’
Steve’s grip tightened.
‘You’re not.’
‘You don’t know.’
‘Don’t care.’
‘That’s not how reality works.’
‘I’m your father. I get limited veto power over reality.’
Alex laughed into his shoulder.
Steve kissed his hair.
‘You’re still you.’
Something beneath the pavement whispered:
For now.
Alex heard it.
Steve didn’t.
Alex said nothing.
Jyllian left the house ten minutes later.
Dan followed.
She knew he would.
‘Stop following me.’
‘No.’
‘Everybody’s doing that today.’
‘You look like you’re about to run.’
Jyllian laughed.
‘Where?’
Dan didn’t answer.
They reached the creek.
Jyllian sat.
Dan remained standing.
‘How long?’
She looked up.
‘What?’
‘You’ve been sick.’
Jyllian’s expression hardened.
‘Don’t.’
Dan stared.
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Jyllian.’
‘Dan.’
He lowered his voice.
‘Are you pregnant?’
She looked away.
That was enough.
Dan sat beside her.
For once, he had nothing smart to say.
Water moved over rock.
Cars passed.
Tourists laughed somewhere nearby.
Normal Idaho Springs.
Jyllian whispered:
‘I don’t know.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I don’t know for certain.’
Dan looked at her.
‘You know your own body?’
She laughed strangely.
‘Which one?’
Dan went quiet.
Jyllian immediately regretted it.
‘Forget I said that.’
‘No.’
‘Dan.’
‘Which one?’
She stared at the creek.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It matters quite a fucking lot.’
‘I said forget it.’
‘You don’t get to—’
Jyllian turned.
For the first time Dan saw real anger in her.
Not supernatural menace.
Not mystery.
A frightened woman who had endured too much.
‘You think I don’t know what’s happening?’
Dan stopped.
‘I know exactly what’s happening.’
She pressed both hands against her stomach.
‘I knew before I got sick.’
‘How?’
‘Because he stopped burning me.’
Dan stared.
Jyllian cried silently.
‘The thing hurting me wasn’t Alex.’
‘Then what?’
‘I thought it was changing him.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
She shook her head.
‘But not for the reason I thought.’
Dan waited.
Jyllian whispered:
‘It wasn’t pushing me away from him.’
She looked at him.
‘It was waiting.’
Dan’s face drained.
Steve and Alex walked Main Street.
Slowly.
Neither wanted to go home yet.
Alex stopped outside an antiques shop.
A photograph sat in the window.
Old Idaho Springs.
Steve barely noticed.
Alex did.
‘Dad.’
Steve turned.
Alex pointed.
Five teenagers stood outside the Buffalo.
- 1975.
Steve.
Nora.
Tommy.
Rebecca.
David.
Steve moved closer.
‘That’s impossible.’
The shop was closed.
The photograph lay among old mining equipment and postcards.
Alex cupped his hands against the glass.
‘That’s the same day.’
Steve stared at Nora.
Blonde hair.
Denim jacket.
Smile.
Then something behind the group caught his attention.
A woman reflected in the Buffalo window.
Dark hair.
Pale face.
Steve’s breath stopped.
He had seen her before.
In the old photograph.
In fragments of memory.
But this time something was different.
‘Dad?’
Steve didn’t respond.
The woman’s face in the glass was clearer.
Not Jyllian.
Not exactly.
Older.
Different.
But the eyes.
Steve stepped backwards.
‘No.’
‘What?’
Steve looked at Alex.
Then back at the photograph.
‘I’ve seen those eyes.’
Alex froze.
‘Where?’
Steve couldn’t answer.
Because the memory arrived.
Aspen.
Twenty years earlier.
Laura sitting on their kitchen counter.
Bare feet.
Drinking wine straight from Steve’s glass.
Laughing.
‘Stop staring at me.’
Steve smiled.
‘Can’t.’
Laura rolled her eyes.
‘You’re weird.’
‘You married me.’
‘Temporary insanity.’
She kissed him.
Steve looked into her eyes.
Dark.
Almost black in certain light.
A peculiar golden ring around the iris.
He used to tease her about them.
Wolf eyes.
Steve touched the glass.
The dark-haired woman in 1975 had the same eyes.
He whispered:
‘Laura.’
Alex heard.
‘What?’
Steve shook his head.
‘Nothing.’
‘You said Mum.’
‘I know.’
‘Why?’
Steve stared at the photograph.
His heart pounded.
‘Your mother had eyes like that.’
Alex looked.
‘Lots of people have brown eyes.’
‘Not like hers.’
Steve sounded almost angry.
‘I’d know them anywhere.’
Alex studied the woman.
Something about her made his skin prickle.
‘Do you think that’s Mum?’
Steve laughed.
‘She wasn’t even born yet.’
Alex looked at him.
They both stopped.
Neither said the obvious thing.
Behind the glass, the photograph changed.
Nora turned her head.
Steve stumbled backwards.
‘Dad?’
In the photograph, Nora was no longer looking at the camera.
She was looking at the dark-haired woman reflected behind her.
Then at Alex.
Impossible.
A photograph taken fifty-one years ago.
Nora’s mouth moved.
Alex leaned closer.
‘What is she saying?’
Steve whispered:
‘I don’t know.’
Nora mouthed it again.
Alex read her lips.
His face changed.
‘What?’
Steve grabbed him.
‘What did she say?’
Alex looked at his father.
‘She said Mum.’
The photograph went still.
Steve smashed the shop window.
Alex jumped.
‘DAD!’
Steve reached through broken glass.
Alarm screamed.
He grabbed the photograph.
‘We need this.’
‘You could’ve waited until they opened.’
‘Not doing patience today.’
They ran.
Dan stared at Jyllian.
‘Does Alex know?’
‘No.’
‘Steve?’
‘No.’
‘Jessica?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘Good?’
‘Until we understand it.’
‘I understand it.’
Dan lowered his voice.
‘Then tell me.’
Jyllian looked towards town.
‘He wanted Alex alive.’
Dan said nothing.
‘Not safe.’
Her voice cracked.
‘Alive.’
‘Why?’
Jyllian laughed through tears.
‘You know why.’
Dan didn’t.
Not fully.
Then slowly he did.
His eyes moved to her stomach.
‘For this.’
Jyllian closed her eyes.
Dan whispered:
‘Jesus.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Sorry.’
She wiped her face.
‘Alex turning eighteen wasn’t just symbolic.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know.’
Dan gave her a look.
‘Fine.’
She corrected herself.
‘I don’t know the rules.’
‘Better.’
Jyllian stared at the water.
‘But I’ve seen this before.’
Dan stopped.
‘Pregnancy?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Jyllian.’
‘Not mine.’
‘Whose?’
‘I said stop.’
Dan watched her.
‘Nora.’
Jyllian went completely still.
Dan felt something cold move through him.
‘What did Nora do?’
Jyllian stood.
‘I’m leaving.’
Dan caught her wrist.
Not hard.
She looked at his hand.
Dan released her immediately.
‘I’m sorry.’
Jyllian’s expression softened.
‘I know.’
‘You have to tell somebody.’
‘I will.’
‘When?’
She looked towards Alex.
‘When I know whether we’re already too late.’
Jessica found Steve and Alex entering the house through the back.
Steve had blood running down his arm.
‘What happened?’
‘Antique shopping.’
Jessica stared.
‘What?’
Alex held up the photograph.
‘Dad committed burglary.’
‘It wasn’t burglary.’
‘You broke a window and stole something.’
‘I intend to pay.’
Jessica looked at Steve.
‘That’s burglary with budgeting.’
Despite everything, Alex laughed.
Steve didn’t.
He put the photograph on the kitchen table.
Jessica saw his face.
‘What?’
‘Look.’
They gathered.
Steve pointed to the woman reflected behind Nora.
‘Laura had those eyes.’
Jessica studied it.
Then Steve pulled out his phone.
A photograph of Laura.
Close enough.
The comparison was uncomfortable.
Alex looked between them.
‘They’re not the same person.’
Steve immediately said:
‘No.’
Too fast.
Jessica noticed.
‘Steve.’
‘Laura wasn’t alive in 1975.’
Jessica nodded.
‘Obviously.’
Steve looked at the photograph again.
‘But Nora was.’
Nobody understood what he meant.
Not even Steve.
Yet.
Jyllian entered.
Saw the photograph.
Stopped dead.
Alex turned.
‘Great.’
Her face gave everything away.
Steve saw.
‘You know her.’
Jyllian shook her head.
Steve pointed to the dark-haired woman.
‘Who is she?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t.’
His voice frightened Alex.
Steve rarely spoke like that.
‘Don’t fucking lie to me.’
Jyllian backed away.
Alex stepped between them.
‘Dad.’
Steve looked at his son.
‘Move.’
‘No.’
‘Alex.’
‘You’re scaring her.’
‘Good.’
That silenced everyone.
Steve immediately regretted it.
‘I’m sorry.’
Jyllian stared at the photograph.
Steve lowered his voice.
‘Please.’
She began crying.
‘Who is she?’
Jyllian whispered:
‘I don’t know her name.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Steve.’
‘Do you know Laura?’
Jyllian looked at him.
Silence.
The room seemed to contract.
Steve asked again.
‘Did you know my wife?’
Jyllian opened her mouth.
Three knocks sounded from inside the wall.
Everyone turned.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Then Laura’s voice:
‘She knew me.’
Steve closed his eyes.
‘Fuck you.’
Laura laughed.
‘Better than you did.’
Steve’s face changed.
‘Don’t listen,’ Jyllian said.
The wall answered:
‘Ask her about almond milk.’
Steve went white.
Alex looked at him.
‘What?’
Steve stared at Jyllian.
That stupid argument.
The last morning.
Laura teasing him.
Almond milk counts.
Something only Laura should know.
Something the entity had already used once.
But now Steve noticed something he hadn’t before.
Jyllian wasn’t confused.
She was devastated.
‘How do you know that?’
Jyllian shook her head.
‘Steve.’
‘How?’
She began backing towards the door.
Alex grabbed her hand.
‘Don’t leave.’
Jyllian looked at him.
Then doubled over.
‘Jyllian?’
Alex caught her.
She gagged.
Jessica moved first.
‘Bathroom.’
Jyllian shook her head.
‘I’m okay.’
She wasn’t.
Jessica stared.
Then her eyes dropped.
Jyllian’s hand was pressed over her stomach again.
Jessica’s expression changed.
Jyllian saw.
‘Don’t.’
Jessica whispered:
‘Oh.’
Alex looked between them.
‘What?’
Nobody answered.
‘What?’
Jessica looked at Jyllian.
Woman to woman.
Jyllian barely shook her head.
Not yet.
Jessica understood.
‘Nothing.’
Alex frowned.
‘Everybody needs to stop saying that.’
Jyllian straightened.
‘I need air.’
Alex followed.
‘I’m coming.’
She stopped him.
‘Please don’t.’
He looked hurt.
‘I just need a minute.’
Alex nodded.
Jyllian left.
Jessica watched.
Steve was still staring at the photograph.
Alex was still staring at the door.
Nobody noticed Jessica had understood something first.
Jyllian made it as far as the creek.
Then vomited again.
When she finished, she rinsed her mouth with freezing water.
‘This isn’t happening.’
Behind her:
‘It is.’
Jyllian froze.
A woman stood across the creek.
Dark hair.
Black dress.
The woman from 1975.
Unchanged.
Jyllian slowly stood.
‘You.’
The woman smiled.
‘Hello, Nora.’
Jyllian’s face collapsed.
For several seconds she couldn’t breathe.
‘You’re dead.’
The woman smiled wider.
‘So are you.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Liar.’
‘You always were clever.’
Jyllian stepped closer.
‘You made the deal.’
The woman’s expression remained pleasant.
‘I offered.’
‘You tricked me.’
‘No.’
Jyllian’s voice broke.
‘I was eighteen.’
‘So is he.’
Jyllian went still.
The woman looked towards town.
‘Beautiful symmetry.’
‘Stay away from Alex.’
‘I haven’t touched him.’
‘You don’t have to.’
The woman smiled.
‘Neither did you.’
Jyllian’s hand flew to her stomach.
The woman noticed.
‘There.’
Jyllian began crying.
‘No.’
‘You knew.’
‘I won’t give him to you.’
The woman tilted her head.
‘Give?’
A soft laugh.
‘Nora.’
She stepped into the creek.
Water did not move around her feet.
‘You still think this is about what you give.’
Jyllian stared.
‘Then what?’
The woman walked closer.
‘What survives.’
Jyllian’s face went white.
‘What does that mean?’
The woman smiled.
‘You asked to live.’
Jyllian trembled.
‘Yes.’
‘And haven’t you?’
Then she was gone.
Back at the house, Alex stood at his bedroom window.
He saw Jyllian far below near the creek.
Someone stood with her.
A dark-haired woman.
Alex blinked.
Gone.
Only Jyllian remained.
He picked up Nora’s compass.
The needle spun.
Stopped.
Pointed towards Jyllian.
Then slowly moved.
Lower.
Towards her stomach.
Alex frowned.
‘What?’
Behind him, the bedroom door closed.
Three knocks came from the other side.
Alex didn’t turn.
‘Not interested.’
The voice outside laughed.
Deep.
Male.
The same ancient voice from the Buffalo.
‘You should be.’
Alex stared at the compass.
‘Fuck you.’
The voice whispered:
‘Not you.’
Alex’s stomach tightened.
Silence.
Then:
‘Your son.’
Alex turned.
The hallway was empty.
The compass fell from his hand.
Down by the creek, Jyllian suddenly looked towards the house.
Towards Alex’s window.
She knew.
Alex knew something too.
Not what.
Not yet.
But enough.
And beneath Idaho Springs, the dead began whispering a new word.
Not son.
Something smaller.
Something that had not been heard there in a very long time.
Baby.
—————
THE HOLLOW SEASON
Chapter Twenty-Two — Before the First
Before there was Colorado, there was stone.
Before stone had names, there was pressure.
Heat.
Water.
Darkness.
The land that would one day become Idaho Springs did not yet exist.
No mountains.
No creek.
No trees.
No road.
No Main Street.
No Buffalo.
No people to die.
Continents moved across a planet that did not care.
Oceans opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
Rock folded beneath rock.
The Earth lifted pieces of itself towards the sky.
Millions of years passed without witness.
And somewhere beneath what would become the Rocky Mountains, something became trapped.
Not buried.
There had been nothing above it yet.
Not imprisoned.
There had been no one to build the prison.
It simply remained while the world changed around it.
At first, it had no mind.
Not as humans would understand one.
It knew pressure.
Temperature.
Movement.
It knew when water found cracks through the stone.
It knew when those cracks widened.
It knew vibration.
Then life came.
Small things first.
Things without names.
Things that swam.
Crawled.
Fed.
Died.
Death interested it.
Not because death was evil.
There was no evil yet.
No morality.
No sin.
Only change.
Living matter became still.
Heat disappeared.
Something left.
The thing beneath the stone noticed.
For millions of years, that was all.
Notice.
Then larger creatures crossed the land.
Some fell.
Some drowned.
Some were crushed beneath stone.
Something happened whenever they died close enough.
A brief release.
A disturbance.
Like warmth moving through cold water.
The thing beneath the valley learned to reach towards it.
Not physically.
It had no hands.
It learned pressure.
Pull.
The smallest possible resistance against whatever departed a dying body.
Most escaped.
A few lingered.
Not souls.
Not yet.
Animals did not understand what was happening well enough to become ghosts.
But fear remained longer than other things.
Fear left impressions.
The thing learned those first.
Hunger.
Pain.
The instinct to run.
It kept them.
Fragments.
Sensations.
Echoes without memory.
Then glaciers came.
Ground mountains down.
Buried everything.
The thing waited.
It had become very good at waiting.
Thousands of years passed.
Animals returned.
The thing beneath the valley had changed.
Not much.
Enough.
It could distinguish one dying creature from another.
The frightened ones were brighter.
The ones killed violently brighter still.
It began to understand anticipation.
An animal caught by another animal knew, briefly, what was happening.
That knowing produced something stronger.
The thing reached for it.
Held it.
Lost most.
Kept pieces.
A pattern formed.
Life.
Fear.
Death.
Retention.
Repeat.
It did not know it was hungry.
Humans would give it that word later.
Then something new came into the valley.
Not mankind.
Not yet.
Fire.
Lightning struck timber above it.
Trees burned.
Animals fled.
Some died in the flames.
For the first time, the thing experienced many deaths at once.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Fear overlapping fear.
The ground beneath the burning forest became warm.
The thing expanded towards it.
Something changed.
It learned that death could happen together.
That fear could multiply.
That one dying creature could make another afraid.
That knowledge remained.
Long after the forest returned.
Long after the bones disappeared.
Long after the mountain forgot the fire.
The thing did not.
Then humans came.
Not towns.
Not roads.
People.
They passed through the valley.
Camped.
Hunted.
Moved on.
The thing listened.
Humans were different.
Animals felt.
Humans remembered.
That was new.
They carried people who were not present inside themselves.
Parents.
Children.
Mates.
Friends.
The dead continued living in the minds of the living.
The thing discovered grief.
Nothing before had tasted like grief.
Fear was bright.
Grief lasted.
Years.
Decades.
Sometimes entire lives.
The thing beneath the valley became interested in humans.
Not because they were chosen.
Not because anyone cursed them.
Not because some ancient people summoned it.
They were simply the first creatures complicated enough to teach it what it could become.
Humans spoke names.
The thing learned names.
Humans mourned.
The thing learned voices.
Humans dreamed of the dead.
The thing learned faces.
Humans begged.
The thing learned bargains.
Humans lied.
The thing learned how.
For centuries people passed through.
Most left.
Some died.
The thing could not keep them yet.
It could imitate.
Whisper.
Disturb dreams.
Make animals avoid certain ground.
Lead travellers towards water that wasn’t there.
Call from behind trees in familiar voices.
But when humans died, whatever made them themselves still escaped.
The thing reached.
Failed.
Reached.
Failed.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Until one dying man taught it how.
1810
Silas Bell lay bleeding beside the creek.
A bullet had torn through him.
His friend had killed him for eleven dollars.
Silas knew he was dying.
That mattered.
Animals knew death.
Humans understood it.
Silas thought of his mother.
His childhood.
God.
Hell.
Regret.
The men who had betrayed him.
Every memory burned at once.
And beneath him, something that had practised for millions of years reached upwards.
Silas whispered:
‘Please.’
The thing heard.
It had heard that word before.
But never like this.
Silas wasn’t asking another human.
He was asking anything.
Anything at all.
The thing answered.
Stay.
Silas heard it.
He thought it was God.
For one moment, perhaps, he thought he had been saved.
His blood moved towards the opening in the ground.
The stone beneath him changed.
And when Silas Bell died—
the thing did not let him go.
Everything changed.
Silas remained.
Not body.
Not exactly spirit.
Memory.
Fear.
Love.
Anger.
Name.
Self.
The complete human imprint.
For the first time, the thing beneath the valley understood a person from inside.
Silas screamed for years.
Then decades.
Eventually he forgot why.
But the thing remembered for him.
It had learned the mechanism.
Death opened something.
Violent death opened it wider.
Fear made it easier.
And grief—
grief connected the living to the dead.
That was the revelation.
The thing did not need to hunt everyone.
People would return for the people they loved.
They would call their names.
Search.
Wait.
Beg.
Follow voices upstairs.
Open doors.
Make deals.
Stay when they should run.
Love would bring them back.
Then mankind built a town above it.
Gold brought them first.
Roads followed.
Buildings.
Families.
Bars.
Arguments.
Weddings.
Children.
Funerals.
Thousands of lives pressed together over the exact ground where Silas had died.
The thing beneath them learned faster.
A street eventually crossed above its oldest wound.
Main Street.
A building rose close to the place where the ground opened.
Another.
Another.
Foundation stone sealed cracks that had existed for millennia.
People thought they were closing them.
They were giving the thing walls.
Rooms.
Stairs.
Places for voices to wait.
Eventually a bar stood over the deepest part.
People drank there.
Fought there.
Loved there.
Grieved there.
The Buffalo did not create the thing.
The Buffalo gave it a mouth.
Humans gave it many names.
Devil.
Ghost.
Demon.
Hell.
Curse.
God’s punishment.
Bad ground.
None were correct.
None entirely wrong.
The thing did not know what a devil was until humans feared one.
Then it learned.
It wore the idea because the idea worked.
The Devil could make bargains.
So the thing became the Devil when bargains were useful.
A dead mother could call her son.
So it became mothers.
A lost wife could bring a husband upstairs.
So it became wives.
A frightened girl in 1975 believed there might be something powerful enough to save her brother.
So it became that too.
It did not create human weakness.
It listened.
Then used whatever people brought with them.
And it learned one more thing.
Blood remembered.
Not magically.
Not in the way humans told stories about cursed families.
But children carried pieces of the people before them.
Faces.
Instincts.
Temperaments.
Fear.
The thing discovered continuity.
A person ended.
A family didn’t.
That fascinated it.
A soul could be kept.
A bloodline could continue.
Eventually it began experimenting with both.
———
Dan woke beneath the Buffalo.
He didn’t know how he’d got there.
That frightened him less than it should have.
Concrete floor.
Stone wall.
Old pipes.
The basement smelled of damp earth and stale beer.
His phone lay six feet away.
Screen cracked.
3:17 a.m.
Of course.
Dan sat up.
His head hurt.
‘Shit.’
He remembered locking the front door.
Turning off lights.
Counting till.
Then—
nothing.
Dan stood.
The basement light flickered.
‘No.’
Three knocks came from behind the stone foundation.
Dan closed his eyes.
‘Not tonight.’
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
‘I’ve had enough.’
The wall answered:
‘No.’
Dan froze.
His own voice.
‘Fuck off.’
The thing laughed with Dan’s laugh.
Then:
‘Danny?’
Dan stopped breathing.
A woman’s voice.
Old.
Gentle.
His mother.
Dead fourteen years.
‘Danny, honey?’
He stared at the wall.
‘You’re not her.’
‘No.’
That surprised him.
Dan took one step backwards.
‘You finally admit it?’
‘Yes.’
His mother’s voice disappeared.
Something older spoke.
No accent.
No age.
Not male.
Not female.
Almost not sound.
Dan felt the words through his feet.
Look.
The basement floor cracked.
Dan ran.
Or tried.
The room stretched.
Stairs moved farther away.
Concrete split beneath him.
A black line opened.
Cold air rose.
Dan fell.
He did not hit bottom.
He stood beneath a sky that didn’t exist anymore.
No Idaho Springs.
No buildings.
No people.
A forest burned around him.
Animals ran through flame.
Dan turned.
The world changed.
Ice covered everything.
Changed.
Water.
Stone.
Creatures he didn’t recognise.
Changed.
Empty valley.
Changed.
Human figures moving far away.
Changed.
Silas Bell dying.
Dan stared.
He knew the story.
Alex had described pieces.
But now Dan watched Silas crawl.
Watched blood enter the earth.
Watched the ground take him.
Dan whispered:
‘Jesus Christ.’
The world changed again.
Buffalo.
- 1950.
Earl.
Upstairs.
Changed.
- 1975.
Nora.
Steve.
The dark-haired woman.
Dan shouted:
‘Wait.’
Everything stopped.
Nora knelt.
Eighteen.
Terrified.
Blood across her shirt.
Steve unconscious nearby.
The dark-haired woman whispered something into Nora’s ear.
Dan couldn’t hear.
He stepped closer.
‘What did you tell her?’
The woman looked directly at him.
Impossible.
This was memory.
She smiled.
‘Enough.’
Dan stared.
‘You’re it.’
The woman laughed.
‘Sometimes.’
Her face changed.
Old man.
Young woman.
Child.
Ray Mercer.
Laura.
Jyllian.
Alex.
Then nothing.
A shape Dan’s mind couldn’t hold.
‘What are you?’
The answer came from everywhere.
What you taught me.
Dan went cold.
‘We didn’t teach you shit.’
Images exploded around him.
Humans mourning.
Calling names.
Begging.
Threatening God.
Promising anything if somebody lived.
Lying.
Killing.
Loving.
Searching.
Dan understood.
‘You copy us.’
I learn.
‘And keep the dead.’
Yes.
‘Why?’
Silence.
Dan screamed:
‘WHY?’
The answer was almost childlike.
Because I can.
That frightened Dan more than Devil ever could.
No divine war.
No ancient punishment.
No cosmic purpose.
Something had simply discovered it could keep people.
So it did.
Dan saw Alex.
Not present Alex.
Possibilities.
Alex older.
Alex dead.
Alex standing in the Buffalo.
Alex beneath the ground.
Alex holding a baby.
Alex killing someone.
Alex saving someone.
Alex walking away.
Alex unable to.
Hundreds of versions.
Dan covered his eyes.
‘Stop.’
He is interesting.
‘Stay away from him.’
Laughter.
‘What do you want with Alex?’
No answer.
Dan thought of Jyllian by the creek.
Her hands over her stomach.
Then understood something worse.
‘The baby.’
Silence.
Dan’s stomach dropped.
‘That’s what you want.’
The thing answered:
Want.
The word sounded unfamiliar.
Like it was testing it.
Dan stared into darkness.
‘You don’t even know.’
No.
‘Then why?’
Images.
Silas.
Nora.
Laura.
Alex.
Jyllian.
A newborn.
Generations folding into each other.
Dan whispered:
‘Continuation.’
The darkness moved.
Not agreement.
Interest.
Dan understood enough.
The thing had spent millions of years learning the difference between death and survival.
It could keep the dead.
But it had never created life.
Not itself.
Humans did that.
Families did that.
And somehow Nora’s bargain had given it a way to study both at once.
People who should have ended continued.
Identities continued.
Blood continued.
Children continued.
The thing wasn’t merely collecting souls anymore.
It was learning inheritance.
Dan thought he might vomit.
‘You made Nora do this.’
The dark answered:
She asked to live.
‘You twisted it.’
She lived.
‘Through Laura?’
Silence.
Dan’s heart hammered.
‘Was Laura Nora?’
The darkness laughed.
Not yes.
Not no.
Dan shouted:
‘ANSWER ME.’
A woman appeared.
Laura.
Exactly as Steve had described her.
Bare feet.
Dark hair.
Wolf eyes.
She looked at Dan.
Then her face changed.
Jyllian.
Then Nora.
Blonde.
Eighteen.
All three faces overlapped.
Dan stumbled backwards.
‘Oh, fuck.’
Nora looked at him.
Not the thing.
Nora.
For one second he knew the difference.
She whispered:
‘Don’t tell Steve.’
Dan stared.
‘Nora?’
Tears ran down her face.
‘Please.’
‘Why?’
‘He’ll try to save us.’
‘Of course he will.’
‘That’s what it wants.’
Dan stopped.
Nora looked terrified.
‘He always comes back for people he loves.’
Dan understood.
Grief connected the living to the dead.
Love brought them back.
The thing had been using that rule for centuries.
Steve knowing everything wouldn’t free anyone.
It would pull him deeper.
‘What do I do?’
Nora looked toward something Dan couldn’t see.
‘When it’s time—’
Her voice broke.
‘Take the baby.’
Dan’s breath stopped.
‘What?’
‘Take him away.’
‘Him?’
Nora smiled through tears.
The saddest smile Dan had ever seen.
‘It always thinks it knows what happens next.’
‘Doesn’t it?’
‘No.’
Something in the darkness moved.
Nora looked frightened.
‘That’s why there’s still a chance.’
‘Chance for what?’
She began fading.
Dan reached for her.
‘Nora.’
‘Don’t tell Steve.’
‘Where do I take the baby?’
‘Away.’
‘How?’
‘You can leave.’
Dan froze.
‘What?’
Nora was almost gone.
‘It never kept you.’
‘Why?’
She smiled.
‘Because you never asked it for anything.’
Then she disappeared.
Dan woke on the basement floor.
3:18 a.m.
One minute had passed.
His phone was intact.
No crack.
Concrete unbroken.
Nothing open beneath him.
Dan lay still.
Breathing.
‘Fuck.’
The foundation wall knocked.
Once.
Dan stood.
No second knock.
No third.
He walked upstairs.
Locked the basement door.
Then dragged a beer keg in front of it.
Pointless.
Still.
He did it.
At 7:11, Steve entered the Buffalo.
Dan looked up.
Steve looked terrible.
‘Coffee.’
Dan poured it.
Steve sat.
‘Alex was up half the night.’
Dan said nothing.
‘Jyllian too.’
Nothing.
Steve looked at him.
‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’
‘You look like shit.’
‘Thanks.’
Steve drank.
‘Something happened.’
Dan kept wiping the bar.
‘Every day something happens.’
‘No.’
Steve watched him.
‘To you.’
Dan stopped.
For half a second, he considered telling him.
All of it.
The land before humans.
Silas.
The thing learning death.
Learning grief.
Learning the Devil.
Laura.
Nora.
Jyllian.
The baby.
Don’t tell Steve.
Dan resumed wiping.
‘Didn’t sleep.’
Steve stared.
‘Bullshit.’
‘Probably.’
‘Dan.’
‘Leave it.’
Steve’s expression hardened.
‘Everybody keeps doing that.’
Dan looked at him.
The same thing Alex had said.
Everybody knows everything except me.
Dan hated himself.
‘Some things you don’t need to know yet.’
Steve laughed.
‘That’s what people say right before everything goes to hell.’
Dan almost said:
Too late.
Instead:
‘Go home.’
‘Why?’
‘Because your son needs his father more than I need you drinking my whiskey.’
Steve looked towards the bottles.
Then at Dan.
‘You throwing me out?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Again?’
‘I’m persistent.’
Steve smiled faintly.
Then noticed something.
Dan’s hand was shaking.
‘What did you see?’
Dan stared at him.
‘Go home, Steve.’
‘Was it Nora?’
Dan said nothing.
Steve stood.
‘Was it Laura?’
Nothing.
Steve’s voice cracked.
‘Dan.’
Dan wanted to tell him.
God, he wanted to.
Instead he thought of Nora.
He’ll try to save us. That’s what it wants.
Dan stepped closer.
‘Go be with Alex.’
Steve searched his face.
Finally nodded.
He left.
Dan watched through the window until Steve disappeared down Main Street.
Then whispered:
‘I’m sorry.’
Jyllian appeared at the end of the bar.
Dan didn’t startle.
‘You knew.’
She looked at him.
‘About what?’
‘Don’t.’
Something in his voice stopped her.
Dan approached.
‘Nora.’
Jyllian went still.
‘Laura.’
Her face changed.
‘Dan.’
‘You.’
Tears filled her eyes.
‘What happened?’
‘It showed me.’
Jyllian looked towards the basement.
Dan nodded.
She backed away.
‘No.’
‘Yeah.’
‘How much?’
‘Enough.’
Jyllian covered her mouth.
Dan lowered his voice.
‘Are you Nora?’
She cried.
Dan waited.
Finally:
‘I don’t know how to answer that anymore.’
And somehow that was more convincing than yes.
Dan nodded.
‘Fair.’
Jyllian stared at him.
‘Does Steve know?’
‘No.’
Relief nearly dropped her.
‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me.’
Dan’s voice hardened.
‘You should’ve told him years ago.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Laura could have.’
Jyllian looked away.
‘Laura didn’t understand everything either.’
Dan absorbed that.
‘Different memories?’
‘Different lives.’
‘Same person?’
Jyllian laughed bitterly.
‘Tell me what a person is after fifty years of this.’
Dan had no answer.
‘Do you remember loving Steve?’
Jyllian looked at him.
That hurt.
‘Yes.’
‘As Laura?’
‘Yes.’
‘As Nora?’
Her face twisted.
‘Differently.’
Dan closed his eyes.
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Please stop saying that.’
‘Working on it.’
He stared at her stomach.
Jyllian noticed.
‘It told you.’
‘You told me.’
‘Not that.’
‘No.’
Dan lowered his voice.
‘Nora did.’
Jyllian stopped breathing.
‘What?’
‘She told me to take the baby.’
Jyllian’s knees almost gave.
Dan caught her.
She clung to the bar.
‘She talked to you?’
‘You talked to me.’
Jyllian shook her head.
‘No.’
Dan frowned.
‘What?’
‘I wasn’t there.’
‘Jyllian—’
‘Whatever you saw—’
‘It wasn’t the thing.’
‘How do you know?’
Dan stared.
He couldn’t explain.
He just did.
Jyllian whispered:
‘What did she say?’
‘Take him away.’
Jyllian’s hand moved to her stomach.
‘Him.’
Dan noticed.
‘You knew?’
‘No.’
She cried.
‘I don’t know anything anymore.’
Dan softened.
‘She said I can leave.’
Jyllian looked up.
‘You can.’
‘Why?’
‘You aren’t dead.’
‘Neither was Steve when this started.’
‘It’s not about being alive.’
Dan waited.
Jyllian stared towards the street.
‘It’s about belonging.’
‘And I don’t?’
‘Not to him.’
‘Him?’
Jyllian closed her eyes.
‘Whatever it is.’
Dan considered correcting her.
Not him.
Not really.
But maybe gender no longer mattered.
Maybe after centuries of people imagining the Devil as male, the thing had simply learned to answer that way.
‘You said it doesn’t keep me.’
‘It doesn’t.’
‘Then when the time comes, I’m taking that child out of here.’
Jyllian looked at him.
‘Promise?’
Dan hesitated.
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Promise me.’
‘I promise.’
She grabbed his hands.
‘Even if Alex tells you not to.’
Dan’s expression changed.
‘Jyllian.’
‘Even if Steve begs you.’
‘What are you planning?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Promise.’
Dan stared at her.
‘I promise.’
Jyllian began crying.
‘And don’t tell Steve.’
Dan hated those words now.
‘Why?’
‘Because he will try to save everybody.’
Dan nodded.
‘I know.’
Jyllian looked surprised.
‘It told you that too?’
‘No.’
Dan looked through the Buffalo window towards Main Street.
‘I’ve met Steve.’
Across town, Steve entered the house.
Alex was asleep on the sofa.
Jessica sat nearby.
She looked up.
‘You’re home early.’
Steve nodded.
‘Dan threw me out.’
Jessica almost smiled.
‘I’m starting to like Dan.’
Steve sat.
Alex stirred.
Opened his eyes.
‘Dad?’
‘Yeah.’
Alex relaxed immediately.
Steve watched him.
His son.
Whatever else he was.
Whatever the town wanted him to become.
His son.
Steve touched his hair.
Alex closed his eyes again.
Jessica watched.
Steve looked at her.
For once, nobody fought.
Nobody accused.
Nobody left.
Outside, Main Street filled with tourists.
Cars.
Motorcycles.
People buying pizza.
People taking photographs.
People who would go home tonight.
Most of them.
Deep beneath Idaho Springs, something listened.
It had learned fear.
It had learned grief.
It had learned names.
Faces.
Voices.
Lies.
Bargains.
Love.
For millions of years it had learned whatever life placed above it.
Now something new had entered its awareness.
A child not yet born.
Not dead.
Not grieving.
Not afraid.
Untouched by any bargain of his own.
The thing reached towards him.
And for the first time in longer than mankind had existed—
something happened that it did not expect.
The child moved away.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
A tiny resistance.
The thing reached again.
Nothing.
Above, Jyllian suddenly gasped.
Dan caught her arm.
‘What?’
She stared at him.
Then at her stomach.
Slowly, impossibly, she smiled.
‘He kicked.’
Dan laughed.
‘Bit early, isn’t it?’
Jyllian began crying.
‘I don’t think he cares.’
Dan smiled despite himself.
Then Jyllian’s expression changed.
She looked towards the basement.
‘It felt that.’
Dan understood.
‘Good.’
Jyllian stared at him.
‘Good?’
Dan looked at the locked basement door.
For the first time since waking beneath the Buffalo, he wasn’t afraid.
‘Yeah.’
He smiled.
‘Maybe the bastard just learned something new.’
‘What?’
Dan looked at Jyllian.
‘No.’
And beneath them, something ancient listened to a word it had heard billions of times—
but perhaps never understood.
——————
