The Presence

CHAPTER 16

Michael moved quickly through the dark shadows cast by the dense groves of trees that lined the road. He’d lost track of time — had no idea how long it had been since he’d fled from the house, no idea what time it might be now.

He could barely remember scrambling through the window, jumping over the railing around the veranda, and dashing across the clearing toward the darkness of the eucalyptus grove, so gripped had he been by the terrors of the dream. His only motivation had been to escape the light, and the apparition that appeared in it. But even after he’d escaped into the protective darkness, he kept running, dodging between the trees until he emerged from the woods and burst out into a grassy field. He’d dropped down to the ground, breathing hard.

Escape!

He had to escape.

But where? Even as the question had formed in his head, so also had the answer: in his mind he saw the cleft in the ravine above the place where his mother had unearthed the strange skeleton.

That’s where he would go.

But how would he find it?

As the terror of the dream began to loosen its clammy grip, he remembered what Josh had told him that afternoon. Somewhere up the road, there was a trail.

He was still more or less following the road, keeping to a few of its twists and turns, but more often than not scrambling up the steep slope where the hairpins were so tight it would take him far longer to follow the pavement. He’d passed half a dozen driveways, and even something that looked like it might be a footpath, but some voice inside him had told him to keep walking, to go farther up. A few yards farther on, though, he stopped abruptly.

For a moment he didn’t know quite why he’d stopped, but a second later he saw it: a narrow track leading off in the general direction of where Takeo Yoshihara’s estate — and his mother’s dig — must lie. But how could he know? What if it was the wrong path? What if it took him in the wrong direction?

Despite his doubts, he began moving along the trail, something inside of him sure that he was going in the right direction. Twenty minutes later the path ended at a rough track. Not hesitating, Michael turned left.

He broke into a trot, the certainty that he was going in the right direction growing stronger with every step. A little farther on he came to a gate, climbed over it, then scrambled over the fence he encountered a few minutes later. It was as if he was following a beacon, though the darkness of the night was barely softened by the dim moon above, its light cut by scudding clouds.

Finally, though, as he came to the clearing that housed the worktables and their canopies, the last of the fear that had gripped him during the nightmare disappeared.

He moved on, a moment later coming to the ancient campsite where the skeleton lay. Michael knelt for a moment. His eyes fixed on the fleshless features of the skull, and as a silvery ray of moonlight found a tear in the clouds and illuminated the long-dead being’s empty eyes, Michael felt once more the strange sensation come over him, as it had that afternoon, composed partly of familiarity, partly of fear.

Then the ray of moonlight disappeared behind the curtain of clouds, releasing him. Michael rose to his feet and moved into the protective shelter of the long-dead vent.

Tonight the vent was warm — far warmer than the air outside — and Michael felt a soft mist envelop him. He sank down, slumping against the moss-covered rocks.

Soon he was drifting into a dreamless sleep.

He had no idea what woke him up; perhaps a sound, perhaps some sixth sense.

Nor did he have any idea how long he’d been asleep.

But the moment Michael came awake, all his senses were fully alert. He pulled himself into a tight crouch and held perfectly still, listening.

The moon had nearly set and the clouds had thickened. Even so, he could easily make out the shapes of the trees around him, and see the lithe form of a mongoose slip past on the narrow trail that had brought him to the lair in which he hid.

He made no movement, for above the chirping of the insects and the faint mumblings of sleepy birds, another sound was coming to him.

Voices.

Human voices, so low he couldn’t quite make out the words.

But they were coming closer.

Michael rose to his feet, his senses practically tingling with the sensation of gathering danger.

He strained his ears, and finally he could make out a sentence.

“About a quarter of a mile ahead — up where that friend of Dr. Silver’s is working.”

Him!

They were looking for him!

Instinctively, Michael shrank back deeper into the cleft in the ravine’s wall, but a second later realized the trap. If they knew where he was, he’d have no escape.

Darting out into the darkness, he shivered for a moment against the cold of the night, then pushed the chill from his mind, concentrating on only one thing.

Escape.

He moved quickly — far more quickly than when he’d come — leaving the path only a few feet from the entry to the cleft, snaking his way through the dense tangle of the rain forest until he came back to the track a hundred yards from the main clearing where the worktables stood.

He could still hear the voices, but as he listened they became less distinct, and he knew they were no longer coming toward him, but searching for him where he’d been only a few moments ago.

Seizing the opportunity, he turned and fled, loping along the rutted track with an ease that belied the darkness.

Coming to the fence, he climbed over it, then vaulted the gate a minute later. He kept running, his legs pumping in a steady rhythm, his feet making barely any sound as he flew along the track. He came to the path that led off to the right, but instead of turning, he went on, then left the track and made his way across the mountain’s slope, only coming back to the path when he was a few yards from the point where he’d left the pavement—

When?

How long had it been?

He had no idea.

Suddenly he was exhausted. The muscles in his legs were starting to burn, and his knees and ankles felt as sore as if he’d been running for hours. He was panting, and as he stopped to catch his breath, he listened.

He heard nothing.

Once again he was alone in the night.

As he emerged from the narrow lane leading through the eucalyptus trees, Michael could see his mother standing on the veranda, still clad in her thin white bathrobe. The moment he saw her, he understood part of the panic he’d felt earlier.

What he’d seen in his room hadn’t been one of the apparitions from the dream.

It had only been his mother, switching on the light.

Stupid!

How could he have been so stupid?

Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the grove of trees and into the circle of light that spread from the veranda out into the clearing.

Katharine’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “Michael?” Then: “Michael! My God, are you all right?” A second later she was off the veranda. “Michael, what happened? Oh, God, I’ve been so frightened! When you went out the window—”

“I’m okay, Mom,” Michael broke in. “I just — I don’t know — it was really weird, and—” They were back on the veranda now, and his mother was clinging to his arm. “I’m really sorry,” he said.

Katharine pulled Michael into the house and looked anxiously into his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked again. “I’ve been so worried. You sounded like you could hardly breathe, and the way you took off—”

Michael pulled away from her grip. “I really feel dumb,” he said, sinking down onto the sofa. He looked up at her. “And you’re gonna be really pissed at me.”

Katharine dropped into the chair opposite him. “Just tell me what happened.”

He tried to tell her about the nightmare, but most of it had vanished from his memory. Still fresh, however, was the vision he’d seen when his terror had finally driven him out of his sleep. “It was you,” he finished. “In that bathrobe. I was barely awake, and that robe makes you look like one of the things that was chasing me in the nightmare.”

“But that’s crazy!” Katharine objected. “I was trying to help you! All I wanted to do was—”

“It doesn’t matter, Mom,” Michael said. “I’m really sorry I scared you.”

“But where did you go?” Katharine asked.

Should he tell her? How could he? He barely understood what he had done himself. Suddenly it seemed almost impossible that he’d not only found the trail Josh had told him about, but followed an unmarked route to the dig as well.

And what about the people who’d been looking for him? Suddenly he knew who they must have been and how they’d known he was there.

The dig was on Takeo Yoshihara’s property, and he probably had a surveillance system everywhere on it.

They must have been watching him from the minute he climbed that first gate. And if they’d caught him …

Jesus! His mom probably would have lost her job!

But they hadn’t caught him — he’d gotten away!

He made up his mind.

“I didn’t go anywhere, really,” he said. “When I finally came awake — I mean really awake — I was out in a field.” He hesitated. “And it was kind of fun being outside in the middle of the night. So I lay down to look at the sky for a while and I guess I fell asleep.” Did she believe him? He couldn’t tell. “I guess you’re pretty mad at me, aren’t you?”

Katharine took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I was so frightened at the way you were breathing, and when you didn’t come back …” She shook her head. “You’re really sure you’re all right now?”

“I’m fine,” Michael insisted.

“If you’re ‘fine,’ then why were you having such a hard time breathing?” Katharine demanded, her fear giving way to anger as she remembered the torment she’d gone through. “And do you have any idea how many times I picked up the phone to call the police?”

Michael stifled a groan.

“But I didn’t,” Katharine went on. “I kept reminding myself that you’re not a little boy, and that I have to stop thinking of you as if you were still sick all the time.” Her eyes fixed on his. “So I didn’t call them. Instead I sat here and worried myself half to death.”

“I’m really sorry, Mom,” Michael began again. “I don’t know what I can tell you. I—”

“Don’t tell me anything,” Katharine interrupted. “Just don’t argue about going to see a doctor in the morning, all right?”

A glare of headlights appeared through the window. “I thought you said you didn’t call anyone.” Michael, already on his feet, was starting toward his room, suddenly embarrassed about being clad in his underwear.

“I didn’t call the police,” Katharine told him. “But I had to call someone.”

A car door slammed, and a moment later Rob Silver appeared at the front door. “I’ve changed my mind,” he began. “I really think we ought to call the police. If he’s out—”

“He’s back,” Katharine told him. “He came in about five minutes ago. And he seems to be okay. But I’m taking him to see a doctor in the morning.”

Rob nodded. “I’ll call Stephen Jameson first thing,” he said. “He’s the best doctor on the island, and he works for Takeo Yoshihara.”