The Darkness That Hunts
Chapter 5

From the other side of the door, I eavesdrop on their heatedwhispers. Several words I can’t make out, but I know the conversation has to dowith me and Camp Genki’s mysterious purpose.

“--dn’t have gotten here herself. She’s terrified.” It’sZakk’s voice.

“She could be from there,dude,” Dace sniffs. “Not like it hasn’t happened before.”

I don’t know where “there” is, but Kamiron hasn’t had timeto tell them about any of the things I’ve told him, so--

“--marks. You weren’t there when I found her.” Kamiron’svoice trembles with horror. “So much blood, she could barely stand. She wasconvinced someone named Hunter was . . .” The end of his sentence bleeds intothe next one, “. . . Didn’t see anyone, but something was off. I heard it.”

There is a heartbeat pause before Dace speaks, his toneanxious: “Heard it, or heard it?”Kamiron’s response is lost to me, but I hear Dace swear. “Christ, Chameleon. Ibelieve you, but this is just cra--”

“Don’t even say it,” Zakk interjects. “You know why thisproperty was chosen. You know about Lake Andy and what it is. It’s not sofar-fetched.”

“We’re missing the point.” Hamilton’s whisper fades in andout, and I strain to hear more. “The fact remains--someone did this to her, someone out beyond Lake Andy. No one’sbeen there in so long that it’s no leap of faith to assume some psycho abductedand tortured her. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Can we doanything?” Dace counters.

The tiles squeak, as if someone is shifting his weight. “Wecan help her get home, at least.”

“You make it seem like that’sa stroll down the street, Chameleon. People don’t just leave Gen. Hell, they don’t just appear out of nowhere, either.”

Someone replies to Dace, but I can’t make out who or whathe’s saying over the loud thumping of my heart and the blood rushing to myears. What kind of a place is this?

“--No choice. Dace, you know what to do. Ham, replace outwhat--”

They drop silent when I open the door. Shyly, I step intothe living room, tugging the hem of Kamiron’s green shirt down my thighs. Theyavoid looking at my skinned knees and the old injuries that crisscross up anddown my legs.

“Have a seat, Shari.” Hamilton, his thick brown hair stilldamp from his shower, pats the cushion beside him. For the first time I noticethat the hair along his right temple is shaved, displaying the earrings that crawlup his ears. Silver skulls, cobalt crosses, ebony thorns. Self-conscious andaware of their curious gazes and the fact that they don’t know I’ve heard them,I lower myself onto the deep vermillion couch. Hamilton smells nice. Masculine.So different from the sickly sweet aroma of rot, a rot that lingers evenafter--

“This must all be confusing for you,” Zakk eases onto thematching loveseat across from me. Dace joins him while Kamiron sinks onto thecushion beside me, close enough that I can feel heat wafting off his skin. “Butit’s equally confusing for us. People don’t just pop up here at Camp Genki.There’s an electrified fence that surrounds the property--”

“Why? What would you need to keep out?”

Dace slouches, propping his dirty tennis shoes on the aspenand glass table between us. “Keep inmore like.”

“You say you’re from Atlanta,” Kamiron continues, ignoringDace and side-stepping my question. I give a slow nod. “Perchton is the closestcity. There is a mental hospital there. Sometimes--”

“The loonies escape,” Dace finishes.

My heart cowers in my throat. “Y-you think I came from an insane asylum?”

A pregnant silence greets me.

Oh, God. They thinkI’m crazy!My lungs can’t seem to get any more oxygen and my thoughts spiral together sofast I can barely follow. Nothing I saywill convince them otherwise--the more I insist I’m not, the more crazy I’llseem. A vice clamps down on my windpipe.What do I do? The first chance they get, they’ll ship me to the asylum and I’llbe trapped and no one will even know where to replace me and I’ll never get home.I have to get out of here before they--

Pressure enfolds my right hand. Squeezing and slackening.Squeezing and slackening. I look down to replace Kamiron’s large palm swallowingmine. The sensation of his skin chaffing my fingers steadies me and I realizeZakk is calling my name. I drag my gaze to his mouth, reading his words sincethe bellow of blood rushing in my ears chokes all sound.

“Calm. Think serene thoughts--like exploring a meadow.Sunlight trickles through a canopy of lush greenery, the wind is warm andgentle as it caresses your cheek . . .” Zakk continues to describe the meadow,filling it with fauna and flora. Scent and song. The longer I listen to hissoft voice, a voice that wraps around me like silk and velvet, the more relaxedand peaceful I feel. The panic ebbs like a tide until nothing remains but aplacid pool.

Until, that is, I listen in on Hamilton and Kamiron’s sideconversation.

“Sometimes, but only glimpses. Horrible things, amigo, butabout the mental hospital? Nada.”Hamilton’s accent marks him as a Southerner--Texan, I think--but when he lapsesinto Spanish, I get the feeling his family originated from Latin America. Hecontinues after a brief pause. “She didn’t come from there. I’d have seen bynow.”

I face Hamilton, taking him in. Kamiron and Zakk areattractive, but Hamilton has the sultry looks of a top model, the body of anOlympic swimmer, and the sexiness that only bad boys possess. His hair fallspast his shoulders in deep brown waves complete with natural auburn highlightsthat women pay hundreds of dollars to replicate. It would almost make him toopretty if not for the shaved half and assorted earrings. The punk style suitsthe aloof vibe I get from him, yet Hamilton’s appearance, his accent, and hispersona, pale in comparison to his eyes--unmistakably violet. Unnatural andmesmerizing and . . . remarkable. Ihave to stop looking or I feel I’ll fall into his gaze. Instead, I scour hisneck, clearly exposed by his sleeveless white tank. His skin, only a shade ortwo lighter than mine, is clear of any brand.

“What are you two talking about?” I demand, afraid andunnerved by their behavior. “What isthis place?”

It’s Kamiron who answers while Hamilton continues to stareat me, the look on his face both confused and horrified. “Shari, Hamilton is .. .” Kamiron’s hesitation draws my attention. His gaze, like all of them,centers on my every expression. “He’s telepathic.”

I blink.

“He can read minds,” Dace chimes in. “Knows your thoughts?”

My head swivels back to Hamilton, examining his peculiareyes, the full mouth that dips into a slight frown. I search for anything thatreveals I’m the butt of a bizarre joke. Are they mocking me because of mynaiveté and confusion? Or do they think I’m just gullible?

Or could it be that I’mthe one who’s stumbled upon a bin of loonies? I picture them quarantined in themental hospital, talking about psychic powers while a bored-looking nursepasses them tiny pink pills that “make the voices go away.”

Hamilton’s sudden burst of laughter startles me. “Guess yougot a point there, chica.”

My jaw drops and a blush steals across my cheeks. Oh, God. He really can read minds!

Hamilton, smile still wide, nods and tries to explain. “Idon’t mean to embarrass you. Trust me,” he sobers and shares a glance with hisfellow bunkmates, “It’s not something I wanted.It just happened. Each of us has had to come to terms with our . . . ‘talents.’That’s what Camp Genki’s for--to help kids with extrasensory perception--ESP.”

My fingers curl into tight fists to stop my hands fromtrembling. “You mean all of you can read minds?”

“No, just Ham,” Kamiron clarifies. “We all do somethingdifferent.” He motions to Zakk. “Z over there is a clairsentient. It basicallymeans he can ‘feel’ things about other people.”

I remember how Zakk stood over my body, hands outstretched.“But you never touched me.”

“I don’t have to in order to get a reading. I can senseanything from emotions to disease. It’s like a vibration in my subconscious. Inturn,” his smile blossoms like a warm sunrise, “I can ‘broadcast’ emotions Ifeel to affect other people.”

It suddenly dawns on me. “Earlier, when you were talkingabout the meadow--”

“Exactly. I broadcasted feelings of relaxation to you toease your panic. It also works with healing.”

“That’s why Kamiron wanted you to see me.”

Zakk dips his head again.

I turn to Kamiron. “Then what do you do?”

He blushes and looks down at his large hands. “I’mtelekinetic--move things with my mind.”

I raise an eyebrow. He sighs. Reaching into his pocket, hepulls out a set of keys and places them at the center of the table. He leansback and stares at them. For a moment, nothing happens but then the keys startto move--slowly, at first, but they pick up speed until in a flurry of chimingmetal, they fall off the table--only to hover a few inches from Dace’s feet.Dace bends over and plucks them up, tossing them to his friend.

“You’re getting better,” he notes. Kamiron snorts and wipesthe thin film of sweat from his forehead.

“I can’t move big objects likechairs or tables as easily,” he admits, “but I can close or open doors with noproblem.”

My mouth, which already lolls on the floor, opens evenwider. “That’s incredible!”

Kamiron shrugs, his blush darkening. “It’s nothing, really.My secondary ability is clairaudience.”

“What’s that?”

“I can hear things. Not--not physically,” he rushes, seeingskepticism cloud my eyes. “More like impressions of sounds. Mostly whensomething is wrong. I have a knack for that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a sound, like a note that’s off-key, that creates adiscord,” he says slowly, wrestling for the words. “The more discordant, theworse the problem. Like tonight--I heard what sounded like someone pounding onan out-of-tune piano. It was so powerful I had to follow the echoes of thesound. That’s when I found you.”

My heart races a million beats a second. “You didn’t hear myscream for help?”

“Not ’til much later.”

I am quiet for a moment, trying to take everything inwithout becoming overwhelmed. In light of the evidence of their gifts, I can’thelp but believe them but it’s still too strange.

Any stranger thanbeing pursued by a demonic hunter from another realm? If they belonged in a nut house, itwould only be after I was committed. Out the corner of my eyes, I glance atHamilton to see if he picked up on my thoughts but he is careful to keep hisexpression neutral. I sigh and my attention falls to Dace. He smirks at me,waiting for me to ask.

“I’ll bite. So, what can youdo?”

“Remote viewing. In other words, I can see sites,information, or events that are an impossible distance away or hidden fromphysical view. Ironic, considering my piss-poor eyesight,” he snickers andpushes up his square, wire-framed glasses. “Say,” Dace gaze sharpens in suddeninterest and his eyes look impossibly blue, “You wouldn’t happen to be familiarwith the Fed’s Stargate Project, would you? It started in the seventies andlasted until the mid nineties.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about and he reads it frommy blank expression. His shoulders slouch. “Of course not. Forget I saidanything.”

“Do you have a secondary talent?”

“No,” he replies at the same time Kamiron says, “Yes.” Dacegives Kamiron a pointed look and reiterates, “Nothing else.”

I want to pry for more information, but I get the feelingit’s a closed discussion. Kamiron nudges me to get my attention. “Shari, tellthem what you told me. Tell them what you remember so far.”

I try not to notice their curious stares and instead look atmy hands, counting the knicks and cuts beyond my bandages. How much should Ishare? While I feel like they mean well, I still don’t know what’s going on orwhom to trust, and I can’t afford to make the same mistake I made earlier with TheDarkness-That-Hunts. I know it was only pure luck that I survived.

I close my eyes, fighting through intangible memories forsomething more concrete. The fog obfuscates most my memories, but there isenough. My voice is soft and hesitant as I explain what I remember.Sleepwalking. The night terrors. Fearing to sleep. The Darkness-That-Hunts withhis horizontal pupils and golden eyes. Awaking to replace myself in a rowboat on alake in Appalachia. I don’t mention the note; I don’t talk about the horribletableau of torture and depravity that sometimes flashes through my scrambledmemories like lightning bolts. I don’t mention the unsettling impression thatI’m supposed to be doing something.

“So you dreamed of a man hunting you who found you, took youto a place called Ater, and then you woke up to replace yourself here?” summarizesZakk.

My nails dig crescent moons into my palms. He makes it seemso simple, like a bad dream. Was it just a realistic nightmare? The meredelusions of a disturbed girl? “In a nutshell, yes.” Warily I watch them in thesilence that follows. They each look away, off in their own thoughts. Whetheror not they believe me I can’t say.

I certainly wouldn’t believe me.

The springs of the couch squeak as Kamiron rises and holdsout his hand to me. “You look like you’re going to collapse. You’ll sleep here,ok?”

“But how will I get home? What if I sleepwalk, or he abductsme again?”

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Kamiron volunteers.

“We all will,” Hamilton adds. “And we’ll replace a way to getyou back to Atlanta but nothing can be done about that tonight. What’s mostimportant is that you get some rest.” He turns to Kamiron. “She’ll sleep in ourroom.”

“I have an empty bed,” Kamiron protests.

“It’s better if she’s with us,” Zakk cuts in, “We’ll have agreater chance of making sure she doesn’t sleepwalk and anything that tries tocome for her will have to get through us first.”

I glance at their determined expressions and, while I stillfeel trapped and uncertain, I’m comforted by their dedication.

“Alright, Z.” Kamiron pats my shoulder. “Get some rest,Shari. We’ll figure this out.”

“Thank you for all your help,” I mumble, scuttling afterHamilton as he leads me towards the shoji screen that opens up to the room heshares with Zakk and Dace. I hope they don’t come to regret it.

I wake with a vicious start, my mind a jumble of jaggedimages and emotions, the most poignant of which is dread. I can’t shake theimpression that I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing. That time’srunning out and once it’s gone the horrors that will be unleashed will make theworld tremble . . .

“Hey, it’s okay--you’re alright. You’re safe here,remember?”

My eyes adjust to the darkness. Wooden blinds shut out themoonlight, but a small nightlight by the closed shoji screen glows pale blueand provides enough light to replace Hamilton, dressed in a white tank and blackpajama pants, squatting beside the twin-sized mattress. The lumpy forms of Daceand Zakk, both huddled under thick blankets to fight the chill of the airconditioner, reassure me. I listen to their deep breathing until my heartsettles.

“Was I talking in my sleep?”

Hamilton shakes his head but in his eyes, which look indigoin the blue light, I read the truth. Heat floods my cheeks. “My thoughts wokeyou, didn’t they?”

His smile is gentle. “Afraid so, but está bien. I’m used to it. I bunk with these guys because I don’thear them, but majority of people I dohear. I’ve learned to turn down the noise level.”

I sit up, wrapping my hands around my knees. The gray sheetcollects at my waist in a twisted heap. Part of the matching comforter tanglesaround the bedpost near my feet while the rest pools on the floor. “What didyou hear?”

“In your case, I see more than hear. I get flashes, generalimpressions. Bodies hanging from chains. Black crystal. White crystal. A blondwoman with a mark, some kind of brand, on the back of her neck . . .”

It takes more effort than usual to swallow. “I don’tremember what I dreamed, but that sounds like Ater.”

Grunting, Hamilton rises. “Mind if I join you?”

I shift to make room for him and try to smooth the rumpledsheets. “What time is it?”

He checks the alarm clock on his nightstand. “About fourthirty in the morning.”

I groan and lean my head against the headboard. “I’m sosorry for waking you up--”

“Don’t mention it.” He grabs the comforter from the floorbefore stretching out beside me. “I’m not like the others, Shari. You can onlydescribe what you remember to them, but I can see it from the thoughts youbroadcast.” He drapes the comforter around us. “To be honest, it’s a miracleyou can even sleep. You’re more brave than you give yourself credit for.”

Warmth blossoms deep inside me. It’s comforting to sit andtalk, to have someone treat me as if I’m not crazy or possessed by demons. Sowhat if he’s telepathic?

Hamilton moves slowly, keeping his eyes on me as if I willbolt like a frightened squirrel. Careful of my injuries, his arms encircle meand he pulls me down on the twin mattress. I replace myself molding to the planesof his body, comforted by the heat of his soft skin, the unyielding pressure ofthe wall at my back, and the blanket that covers us.

“I’m scared to go back to sleep.”

He rests his chin atop my head. His wavy hair tickles mycheek. “I’ll stay like this, then. If you start to have a bad dream, I’ll seeit and wake you up. Deal?”

“And if I try to sleepwalk?”

“Well, ma’am, I hear tell y’aren’t supposed ta wake up nosleepwalker,” he relates, his exaggerated Southern drawl slow and solemn,“Reckon I got no choice but ta sit on ya ’til y’waken all natural-like.”

I snort, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across myface. “Don’t underestimate me and my right hook, Texas.”

His laugh is a quiet rumble I feel first in his chest beforehis breath tickles my ears. “Georgia, I’d never underestimate you.”

Hamilton holds me tighter andI’m grateful for the first sense of safety that I’ve felt in a long time.