Dark Hollow Read Online Free PDF Page A

again.
    “What’s the matter, buddy?” I was worried that maybe I’d hurt him when I tripped over him. He didn’t seem to be limping or anything, but I couldn’t be sure.
    Slowly Big Steve turned his eyes away from the path and stared at me. He whined a third time.
    He wasn’t hurt. He was afraid.
    “Come on.” I tugged on his leash again. I was nervous, and the most unnerving part of it was that I didn’t understand why. “Let’s go home. Daddy’s got writing to do, and I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. Especially after that deer spooked us.”
    But Big Steve held firm. His ears flattened against his head, and he started growling again. His nails dug into the dirt. Then he began to bark. The woods rang with the echo. Dogs can hear sounds octaves above what humans can hear, but they sure as hell bark on our level.
    “Come on!” I raised my voice, insistent. “Move, Big St—”
    That reedy, musical piping started up again, cutting me off in midsentence. It was louder now, and seemed to be all around us. I held my breath in apprehension and scanned the forest, but I couldn’t see anything through the thick foliage.
    “What the hell?” I asked the dog. “You hear that?”
    Big Steve stopped barking, but kept growling.
    The music continued. My unease doubled, but I felt a twinge of curiosity as well. Beneath my jeans my penis inexplicably stirred again. Big Steve stopped growling, sat down on his haunches, and began licking himself. Whatever was turning me on had affected him as well.
    Then we heard something else. A woman’s voice, moaning—from pain or ecstasy, I couldn’t tell which. But she was nearby. Curiosity overcame my fears, and I started forward as if in a trance. Big Steve followed along behind me.
    We entered the tunnel, and as the leaves closed over our heads the air grew even colder. The stench of rotting vegetation grew stronger, yet I couldn’t find a source. No sunlight reached us now, not even a hint of it from overhead. The darkness between the tree trunks seemed like a solid thing. Big Steve pulled at his leash, hesitant to continue. Goose bumps crawled up my arms, and I was about to agree with him when the woman moaned again.
    We crept forward, and I realized that I was holding my breath again.
    The woman giggled, and then murmured something. I couldn’t make out the words, but her voice sounded familiar. I’d heard that laugh earlier, when Shelly Carpenter had giggled at Big Steve. I was positive it was her.
    The trail ended at a vine-covered dead fall. Big Steve sat down at my side, panting hard. I reached out and brushed the sinewy vines out of the way. Something else caught my eye. On the ground, sandwiched between the dead branches, was a white stone marker, like a gravestone. Miraculously the fallen tree hadn’t smashed it. I cleared more foliage away from the stone, bent over, and tried to read the writing. Moss and dirt clung between the letters. I brushed it away and traced the lettering with my fingertips. The surface was cool and seemed to throb beneath my touch. I yanked my hand away as if I’d been shocked. When I touched the marker again the throbbing continued. I tried to read what was carved.

    DEVOMLABYRINTHI
    NLEHORNPOSSVIT
    PROPTERNVPTIAS
    QUASVIDITSVBVMRA

    The words—their form and cadence—seemed vaguely familiar. It looked like Latin, written by somebody who didn’t even know the basics of the language. I studied them some more, but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The stone itself didn’t seem that old. It wasn’t severely cracked or worn, didn’t have that weather-beaten look I’d expect it to have.
    Before I could consider it any further, Shelly’s laughter—if it was Shelly—came again, almost as if it were right in front of us. Despite his unease, Big Steve clambered onto the fallen tree. I followed him. The stench of rotten vegetation seemed to swell, but I still couldn’t find its location. Climbing over the dead