Beneath the Veil Read Online Free PDF Page A

Barry said.
    Jackson reached down and found his own stick. He looked it over and then swung it hard against a tree trunk.
    “Yes, this will come in handy,” Jackson said. “When we find Jen.”
    They walked to a point where a valley unfolded below them in a sea of green. The sun emerged from behind the mountain, illuminating a primitive cemetery overgrown with strawberries. They walked past bent iron gates into the graveyard to a jagged row of crumbling head stones. Fresh mounds of soil lined the ground and a breeze blew a sickeningly sweet fragrance through the air. A shovel stuck out of one of the graves and plump, overly ripe strawberries hung all around it.
    “That’s some strange shit,” Jackson said.
    “It is,” Barry answered.
    They left the cemetery and started up the mountain road. The trees pulsed with life as the world around them changed with the rising sun.
    “How much further do you think it is, Barry?”
    Barry stopped walking when he heard the drone of an engine in the distance.
    “Jackson, someone’s coming.”
    He ran to the side of the road and hid behind an oak tree while Jackson climbed behind a stone wall. An old pickup truck appeared around a bend. The truck was a faded green color with its flatbed filled with stones. Two men sat with their legs dangling from the back of the truck. Both men held shotguns. Inside the cab were three more men. The truck rumbled past them, leaving a trail of dust along the dirt road.
    “Barry, are they gone?” Jackson whispered.
    Suddenly, the truck came to a stop and then reversed.
    “Shit,” Barry said. “Jackson, get down!”
    Jackson threw himself to the ground. The truck pulled to a stop in front of the cemetery and the men climbed out. Barry chanced a look and saw the men douse the ground with gasoline. They lit the fuel and watched as the strawberry vines burned and black smoke filled the air. The men then got back into the truck and drove away as the cemetery burned.
    “Jackson?” Barry called out.
    “They gone?” Jackson asked.
    “Yes,” Barry answered, then stood and walked back to the road. Jackson met him there, picking smashed apples out of his pockets.
    “Who do you think they were?” Jackson asked.
    “Not sure,” he answered.
    “Do you think they are the ones that took Jen?” Jackson asked.
    “Maybe. We can follow their tracks and see where they went,” Barry answered. “And figure out if they have her.”
    They walked the rest of the day passing dozens of crumbing farmhouses and barns. They stopped at a few of the houses looking for help, but soon realized they were all abandoned long ago.

C H A P T E R  F I F T E E N
    J en sat, cold and hungry, huddled on the wooden chair. She sensed it was daytime but no light reached the cell. Using her lighter, she systematically examined the room trying to understand the details of her cage. Once, some years ago, she photographed a prison and her black and white pictures captured the unyielding force of the cells. The stone walls of this cell were rough and irregular in size with small holes in the corners of the floor. On the lower half of the walls were scratched messages and pleas for help. She read through the messages, the last words of the hopeless, then leaned back against the wall fighting the terror she felt rising up inside her.
    She stood up and calmed herself, refusing to allow the fear to take hold again. She examined the wooden door, its bottom half was covered with dents and scratches made by the condemned. A square opening was cut at eye level and covered by an iron grate and beyond it a stone hallway.
    “Hello,” she called through the opening. Her voice echoed down the empty corridor.
    “Is anyone there?”
    The hallway was silent until she heard a small voice speak.
    “Quiet, please be quiet,” someone whispered.
    “Who’s out there?”
    “Quiet. They will hear you and come back,” the voice answered.
    Jen held the lighter up to the opening and a