The Secrets of Moonshine Read online

  He switched the light off and on a few more times, shaking it violently, before it lost all light completely.

  Bronwyn sighed, “Now you broke it.”

  “It’s not me,” His voice quivered as he defended himself. “I swear these are new batteries. Like I said before, it’s a force beyond our control.”

  Up until now, Walt’s extreme superstition would have completely annoyed her, but after her own somewhat supernatural encounter with the man in the road, she thought Walt could be right after all. They continued their walk in darkness. In the distance, streaks of lightning danced their eerie ritual, while the thick boughs of the trees swayed to the mournful ballad of the wind. The rolling thunder applauded their woeful performance. Another flash of lightning exploded in the sky, briefly illuminating the road, allowing Bronwyn to catch a glimpse of a dark hooded figure darting between the trees directly ahead. Grabbing Walt’s hand she choked on her words. “Did you see that?”

  She hoped he had. She didn’t want to think she was beginning to see things, and for some reason she thought if Walt had seen it too, it would somehow bring a feeling of comfort.

  “See what?” His voice squeaked a bit.

  Her heart fell. “I saw someone moving in the woods up ahead. You didn’t see them?”

  He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Probably just a deer.”

  “No, it looked like someone wearing a black hooded robe.”

  Despite the darkness of the night, Bronwyn saw the color drain from Walt’s face. She knew he was hiding his fear for her sake.

  “It was more than likely just the branches of the trees blowing in the wind,” he offered, trying to convince her, as well as himself. She stepped in closer, grabbing his arm, and shivered, sensing a sinister spirit hanging in the air. She felt they were uninvited guests, trespassing in a forbidden land, while all of nature shrieked out its ominous warning.

  The lightning was crackling across the sky more frequently now; its intense flashing made it difficult to see. Still, she was certain she saw the hooded figure following them from the trees, stalking. Her anxiety grew as the wind increased from a gentle gust to a forceful push, howling as it drifted by. A cool burst of air swept past, encircling her, blowing her hair in front of her face, impairing her vision all the more.

  Stopping, she glanced around. A faint whisper floated along with the wind, falling slightly upon her ear, calling her by name. Shivering, she pulled her untamed hair together, holding it down with her hand. It was the second time tonight she heard a strange voice call her name. She looked at Walt to see if he’d heard it too, but apparently he hadn’t. He was still groping along in the darkness with the same expression of uneasiness carved on his face.

  The breeze scattered more leaves and debris onto the road. Again she paused to listen, certain she heard a woman singing a mournful song. The faint melody called to her from deep within the woods.

  “What now?” Walt’s anxiety was increasing with every passing moment. “Why are you stopping?”

  Tilting her head to the wind, she spoke above it. “Can’t you hear that?”

  Fear plastered itself across his face. “Hear what?”

  “I hear someone singing.” Her words were chilling. Again, he paled.

  She glanced into the woods sensing something menacing inside, a threatening evil manifesting just beyond the trees. A deep longing beckoned her, a longing she could not comprehend, and she wondered what force was emptying her of her fears and drawing her inside. The summons was not asking her to embrace the malevolent, but rather to vanquish it. The woman’s voice gave her courage. She released Walt’s arm and moved toward the woods. He reached for her hand, but she slipped past him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Someone’s in there.”

  He didn’t hear her words, for the howling wind overcame them, tossing them away.

  “Are you crazy? There’s nothing in there but a death trap!”

  Stepping off the highway, she entered the tall, overgrown grass.

  Walt grabbed at her arm, catching it this time. “I can’t let you go in there alone. It’s suicide!”

  “Come with me then.” Bronwyn’s emerald eyes appeared more intense than he had ever seen. He swallowed hard. Any other time, he would revel in the opportunity to hold her hand and take a moonlit walk in the woods, but not under these circumstances. He ran his hand through his overly curly hair.

  As if God had answered his prayers, heavy rains began showering down, drenching them, drowning out the woman’s call. Bronwyn’s courage suddenly gave way to anxiousness, her peace shattered by sudden panic. Just as she decided to do an about-face and make the long run back to the bus, a bolt of lightning hit nearby, revealing an old-fashioned covered bridge on the road ahead. She sprinted for the shelter with Walt at her heels, running against the wind and pouring rain, while dodging the painfully close lightning strikes. They arrived at the wooden structure just as hailstones began plummeting down, bouncing off the rooftop, and collecting at the edge of the road.

  Bronwyn collapsed in the center of the narrow highway. Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her skin. Walt fell on the road beside her.

  Wiping the water from her face, she glanced around. The wooden roof sheltered them from the falling rain, but unfortunately blocked out any visible light the moon offered, leaving the bridge in almost total darkness. She scooted closer to Walt, as another chill traced its bony finger up her spine. Her body tensed, sensing a presence in the dark recesses. Her heart leaped into her throat, fear engulfing the courage she experienced only minutes before. Someone was on the bridge with them, and the thought of the hooded creature caused her pulse to race. She guessed the cloaked figure was watching her and Walt, its eyes more than likely accustomed to the darkness. Despite the howling wind, she heard a scuffle, and saw the blade of a knife, reflecting a bit of moonlight, making its way through a small hole in the roof. Desperate to escape whoever was wielding the dagger, she grabbed Walt’s arm and sprung to her feet, ready to bolt out into the storm.

  “Let’s go!”

  “No.” He protested, unmoving. “The lightning is striking too close.”

  She was ready to leave him to fend for himself. She was perturbed with him anyway. If he hadn’t taken a wrong turn or broken the flashlight, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. She was half tempted to leave him sitting there, but couldn’t bear the thought of him being stabbed to death, or sacrificed to some cult god of the mountains.

  “Someone is under here with us.” She yelled above the pounding rain. “I’m heading back to the bus. You can come with me, or wait here by yourself.”

  He began to argue with her, and she wondered where he suddenly got his courage. Only minutes ago he was superstitious, afraid to venture out alone, now he was just being lazy and more afraid of the storm than anything the mountains had to offer. She was only wasting her time pleading with him, but if she dashed out into the severe weather, he was sure to follow.

  Her body tensed again, sensing a presence close behind her, sending another chill. Despite the scent of rain and wet earth, she smelled the strong aroma of cigarettes. She was ready to bolt out into the storm, when the headlights from an oncoming truck motivated a change of plans. Instead, she leaped in front of the vehicle as it approached the bridge, causing the truck to come to a skidding stop. It was the only motivation Walt needed. Jumping to his feet, he yanked her away. “Are you crazy?”

  The headlights dispelled the darkness enough for her to see the figure jump from the side railing into the raging river below. The fabric of the cloak billowed in the wind as whoever was wearing the facade made their escape.

  The door of the vehicle swung open, bringing her attention back to the truck and the man stepping out of the cab. Any fear that had manifested in Bronwyn earlier suddenly dissipated as she looked into the dark eyes, peering through the long brown hair, hanging in wet pieces, over the man’s face. Moving away from Walt, she stepped in
to the glow of the headlights, oddly lured into this stranger’s presence. She couldn’t help but notice his expression as he caught sight of her. Astonishment outlined his face, as if he were looking at a ghostly apparition. Steadying himself, he grabbed hold of the truck door, and swallowed hard, biting down his jaw.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, as if he half expected her to disappear. The same heat sensation she felt earlier, on the bus, gathered in the soles of her feet and permeated upward through her body. Her throat tightened and she felt dizzy, while peculiar thoughts began blossoming inside her head. The feelings enveloping her were euphoric, yet mingled with intense sorrow. Her eyes locked helplessly on the man, with no strength to pull away. Somewhere, in the recesses of her soul, she had witnessed this event before. A fleeting vision of her and this stranger, standing in the falling rain, staring into the eyes of each other flashed across her mind like deja vu. Perhaps she had dreamt of it once. Whatever the reason, her heart ached for something she couldn’t explain.

  Walt offered his hand, attempting to break the long awkward stare between the man and Bronwyn. “The name’s Walt Kellogg. Our bus broke down a couple of miles from here. We’re looking for some help.”

  The stranger shook Walt’s hand, yet never removed his eyes from Bronwyn. “Name’s Travis. Get in the truck.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bethany stood at the front of the bus, shielding her eyes from the intense lightning, frustrated that Bronwyn had not told her she was going for help. She would have gladly ventured out into the storm with her, had she asked. Granted, the past six months had been extremely painful for her, yet this pulling away, so to speak, and distancing herself from everyone was beginning to be somewhat annoying.

  The two had become best friends in fifth grade, and while everyone clamored around Bronwyn, Bethany was the one she chose. Her choice instantly gave Bethany elevated status in the elementary social circles. She cherished their friendship; just knowing Bronwyn made her mundane existence much more thrilling. Bronwyn’s overly active imagination seemed to always land them into a world of adventure. The distractions of such mischief helped Bethany make it through many tough times, including several break ups, rejection by the college of her choice, and her parents’ painful divorce. Her own imagination and knack for finding adventure didn’t quite compare to Bronwyn’s, but still, she wanted to return the favor and help her friend through her tough times as well. But how could she, when Bronwyn continually pushed her away?

  The storm was raging now. Vigorous winds pushed hard against the bus, rocking it back and forth, taunting her while she waited in the darkness. Looking out of the window was pointless; she could see nothing but the torrential downpour, coming in sheets, veiling her from what was transpiring right outside the bus. Had she known what lurked about, she would have spent less time worrying about Bronwyn and more time on her knees praying for her own deliverance. However, she was not aware of the sinister plans being plotted right outside the bus, so she sighed, switched on her flashlight, and made her way to the back. She joined her friends anxiously awaiting the return of their two comrades, while amusing themselves with mundane tasks to pass the time.

  Marcus attempted to comfort Lillian, their distraught leading lady, by massaging her shoulders. Bethany thought it to be a chivalrous effort, but the task of trying to calm the pampered prima donna's nerves was an impossible one. She walked on past, not daring to take a seat and subject herself to Lillian’s constant whimpering.

  Across the aisle, Daniel and Anna were discussing a recent piece of political news. Anna, an elegant and proper woman in her early sixties, argued her perspective with grace. Daniel, who provided the comic relief in every role he played, could only attempt to win the argument by dismissing the discussion as serious and making sport of the entire topic. He wasn’t really interested, but was only participating to be polite to Anna and pass the time. Bethany thought it best not to try and join in their conversation, besides, the topic did not interest her in the least.

  Karley and Wilbur both had fallen back asleep. How they could possibly rest in the stifling heat and constant roar of explosive thunder was beyond her. Karley rested with her head leaned back, eyes closed, and her ear buds in. Her iPod drowned out the falling rain.

  Wilbur, their portly and tight-fisted bookkeeper, sat slumped in his seat, dozing. A bag of sunflower seeds lay upon his ample stomach. Bethany wanted to give him a swift kick. Everyone knew the bus was in poor shape because of his tight hold on the money. It was his fault Bronwyn was out in the storm.

  Trent, their handsome leading man, sat alone in the back of the bus. Now, far away from his audience and swooning fans, he blindly plucked unwanted eyebrow hairs while reciting his lines softly. Everyone had a crush on Trent, and although she would never admit it, she was somewhat infatuated herself, and thought his British accent was quite charming. Making her way to the back, she sat down beside him.

  “Any sign of them, love?”

  A deafening thunderclap erupted before she could respond.

  “God!” He held his eyebrow in pain. “It sounds like a bloody nuclear explosion.”

  Lillian peered out of her window. “The lightning strikes are so close I can sense the electricity permeating through my body.”

  “That’s not a good sign,” Daniel warned, though thankful the thunder had ended the long discourse coming from Anna. “They say it’s the sensation you feel right before you’re struck.”

  Lillian sprung from her seat as a wave of hysteria came over her. “Do you think we’ll be hit?”

  “If by chance we do receive a direct hit,” Marcus said, “we’re well ground.”

  “That would be true,” Daniel contradicted, “if these tires weren’t worn down to bare metal. If we get hit sitting on these babies, I’d say we’re toast.”

  Marcus shot Daniel a disapproving glance while Lillian collapsed into her seat complaining. “This is ridiculous. I just want to be safe in our hotel.”

  “Don’t we all?” Bethany’s words were biting, “But at least we have shelter. I’m worried about Bronwyn and Walt. They’re out in all of this.”

  “Yes, I agree. The poor dears.” Anna said. “It’s a shame we don’t have cell reception or we could call and check on their status. I can only pray they have found shelter.”

  Anna was right. Bethany already checked her phone and there were no bars, no signal, and no missed calls. She sighed again. They were stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and where was that? No one knew. All they did know was they were on their way to their biggest venue of the Summer and should have arrived at the hotel hours ago. Walt had obviously taken a wrong turn somewhere.

  She’d caught Marcus looking at a map, scanning the paper with his flashlight. He told her he was searching for a town called Moonshine, because Walt had mentioned seeing a sign. She helped Marcus look, neither one of them found such a place. Seeing that they were in the Appalachias, she was convinced the sign must have been advertising the location of a still, and the way she was feeling, she could use a swig of the potent drink.

  A sudden gust of wind pushed up against the bus, rocking it violently. Lillian screamed, along with the rest of the troupe, troubled by the forcefulness of it. It would take an incredibly strong wind to rock such a heavy vehicle. Daniel’s suggestion of the possibility of tornadoes only unnerved Lillian all the more. Marcus mocked Daniels ignorance, stating he’d never heard of tornadoes hitting in the mountains. He attempted to calm the group once more by saying they were just in the eye of a severe thunderstorm, and being at such high elevation caused it to seem more intense than any other storm they had experienced. His argument did sound convincing, but Bethany could tell he was just as concerned as everyone else, and when the sides of the bus began popping like someone squeezing an aluminum can, she watched his face grow somber as well.

  Outside, a cloaked figure soared through the air, slamming his two victims against the side of the bus. The for
ce of the blow pushed in the metal, denting the vehicle. The sound would surely draw attention, so he worked fast.

  A quick slicing of his knife and the trespassers slumped to the ground. Their blood mixed with the rain, evidence of his kill washing away and rushing like a river down the side of the highway.

  The cloaked man pulled the bodies off the ground, tossing them from view. He would dispose of them later tonight, but right now, he must get rid of the rest of them. Asa was coming, and it would be a catastrophe if any of them caught a glimpse of his face. None of them knew this was where he’d been hiding all these years, and it was his duty to keep it that way.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The bus shook hard. The obvious guess was a tree must have blown over, denting the sides. Marcus grabbed his flashlight and asked Trent if he'd accompany him outside to take a look. Trent laughed his reply--not a chance; if trees were being uprooted and slamming into the bus, then he had no intention of sticking his head outside the door. Whatever the damage, the surveying could wait until morning, or at least until the storm passed. Marcus agreed and was just beginning to sit back down, when another loud thud was heard near the front. The bus door swung open letting in the blowing rain. Marcus aimed his light.

  “Get your damn light out of my eyes!” Walt cursed.

  Everyone in the bus breathed a collected sigh of relief. Walt and Bronwyn forced their way through the gawking troupe. Their wet clothes hung heavy on their body and water poured off their faces, dripping from their noses and onto the bus floor.

  Apologizing, Marcus lowered his light. “What’s the word? Did you find anything?”

  Walt grabbed a towel from his duffel bag. “There’s an inn about four miles from here. We can stay there tonight and deal with the bus in the morning.”

  “Four miles!” Lillian protested. “Please tell me they are sending a shuttle.”