Chapter XI: Cornered
Tony tapped his foot impatiently. It was after seven now and still the FBI agents were wasting time, scarcely making a move to start look for Frank and Joe. The sky was growing dark – it looked like another storm was on its way. With a frustrated sigh, Tony let his aching head rest on the table he was sitting at, wondering why it had to take the FBI so long to do anything.
Not that the FBI reinforcements were all bad. In fact, they were a pleasant change from Clarke and Schneider. Mike Severns, the helicopter pilot, and Hunter Youngman, the diver, were both polite and professional and seemed genuinely interested in helping out.
That might have been speeding things up a little, but not very much. Schneider insisted that they ask around to make sure Frank and Joe really weren't anywhere in town before they started a full-scale search, and he didn't have a hard time convincing Clarke to agree. Once they had satisfied themselves on that point, they started looking for local people who could help them in the search, both as guides and as extra pairs of eyes. That was what was really taking awhile.
Jason Cortney immediately volunteered to help, even offering the use of his beagle as a tracker. Father Percy had also offered to come along, although he said that he had never had much time to go exploring in the area and wouldn't be much help as a guide. Other than that, not a single person was willing to help.
Right now, Tony was in former deputy Danver's office listening as the agents were arguing with Danver over whether or not he should accompany them.
"It's not my problem anymore," Danver said. "I quit. I'm not responsible anymore."
"You haven't officially quit until the paperwork is all filed," Clarke told him. "We've been in contact with the sheriff of this county. We know for a fact the paperwork hasn't even been started."
"I would have started it if I'd been able to get out of here," Danver replied. "I'm not going into those woods."
"The sheriff said you're to help us on the search," Youngman said. "I spoke to him on the radio twenty minutes ago. It's your duty to come along."
"I'm not going," Danver insisted. "The worst the sheriff could do is fire me."
"It actually could be a lot worse than that," Youngman told him.
"I'll say," Clarke snorted. "You could have criminal charges filed against you."
Danver paled a little at this prospect, but he remained resolute. "I'm not going into the wilderness."
"What are you so afraid of?" Severns asked. "You've been trained for more dangerous situations than this. I realize that you don't see many criminals in a small town like this, but –"
"That's just it," Danver interrupted him. "I'm trained to deal with criminals, not supernatural monsters. I know you all think everyone in this town has completely lost their minds. I would have agreed with you a week ago. But you haven't been here. The very air around here feels oppressive."
"It's been raining," Clarke said. "That's just the way it feels when the barometer drops."
Danver shook his head. "No, there's more to it than that. A lot more. There's –" He stopped.
"There's what?" Youngman encouraged him. "What is it?"
"Amber Hoelt," Danver said, but he didn't elaborate.
"That quack professor?" Clarke asked. "What does she have to do with anything?"
"She – she said she wouldn't be surprised if the monster came after me next," Danver admitted.
Clarke threw back her head with a groan of disgust. "You're afraid of a monster just because some psycho with a PhD theorized that it might be coming after you?"
Tony, thoroughly impatient with this conversation spoke up. "I don't think it means anything when she says that. She told my friend Joe basically the same thing and from the way she argues with everyone, she's probably said it to half the town. Still, if we don't get a move on, what she said about Joe might still come true."
"He's right," Severns agreed. "We've only got a couple more hours before sunset, and those woods are already starting to get dark. Let's not waste anymore time."
"It won't do any good to go looking tonight yet," Schneider said. "Like Mike says, we've only got a couple of hours we could search anyway. We'll only use up energy for nothing. I say we get to bed now and be ready to go at sunrise."
"You're going to wait another whole night!" Tony protested, his heart sinking at this suggestion. "But what if something's happened to them?"
Youngman patted him on the shoulder. "Adam has a point. We won't find them tonight anyway. We'd do a lot better starting out in the morning. Strange as it might seem, waiting and getting some rest might even help us find your friends faster."
"To save even more time, let's line up our search parties and divide up the area right now," Schneider said. "Do you have a map of the area around here, Danver?"
Danver listlessly pointed at a file cabinet behind Schneider. Severns opened one of the drawers and searched through it. After a few moments, he pulled out a map and laid it on the desk.
"All right, so we've got three locals who are coming along," Schneider said. "We'll divide the area in quarters. Debbie will go with Cortney and his dog in the southwest corner. I'll take Father Percy and search the northwest corner. Hunter and Danver can take the northeast, and Mike can take the southeast in the helicopter. Sound good to everybody?"
"No," Danver replied. "I'm not going. You can't force me – you've got no right."
Clarke put her hand to her forehead. "Danver, just shut up already. You're going along and that's final."
"What about me?" Tony asked. "Can't I come?"
"You can go with Mike in the chopper," Schneider said.
"I'd rather go on foot," Tony replied. "The copter's only going to be able to be in the search for an hour or so, and I wouldn't be able to stand sitting around doing nothing after it has to land."
"How about you come with us?" Youngman suggested.
"Maybe an extra person along will help ward off the big, bad monster, Danver," Clarke said in a mocking tone.
"Should we go check it out or not?" Joe asked, looking at the cabin in the trees and still leaning hard on Frank's shoulder.
"I think so," Frank said. He wiped some sweat off his forehead. "We're not going to get very far like this, and I think it's worth taking that chance that someone might live there who will be willing to help us. But you should stay here while I go look."
"Why?" Joe looked at him with a trace of suspicion. He didn't like it when Frank was trying to protect him.
"Because if Nettie's in there, I can run a lot faster than you can right now," Frank replied, trying to say the sort of thing that Joe probably would.
Joe recognized the effort and smiled a little. "Guess I can't argue with you there. I'll wait right here."
He sat down next to one of the numerous trees in the vicinity, while Frank made his way toward the cabin. Because the forest hadn't been cleared at all and the trees and brush grew right up next to the building, he was able to get very close and still be confident that he hadn't been seen. It also kept him from getting a really good look at the cabin until he was practically at the door.
Once he was able to see what the cabin looked like, Frank's hopes were dashed. It was in rundown and unkempt condition, and he doubted that anyone lived there. On the other hand, that probably meant no enemies lived there either. He went up to one of the windows and peered inside. Except for a few dusty bits of furniture, it was empty.
Frank went back to where Joe was waiting, not bothering to be quiet or cautious this time. He told his brother what he had found.
"So there's no help in there, no directions, and not even any food," Joe commented glumly.
"'Fraid not," Frank replied. At the mention of food, he realized that he was hungry, too. "It might not be a bad place to stay for the night, though. I hate to say it, but I don't think we're going to get out of here today."
"I'm way ahead of you on that one," Joe said. "I've been thinking the same thing."
With Frank helping Joe, they made their way to the cabin. Fortunately, the door didn't have a lock on it and they were able to go right in. Frank picked the least decrepit-looking chair and let Joe sit down into it.
"Do you think the woodstove still works?" Joe asked.
"Doesn't matter if it does. We don't have any firewood." Frank went over to look at it anyway. He opened it and looked inside. A strange expression crossed his face.
"What is it?" Joe asked.
"Someone put the wood and kindling in here to make a fire, but left it," Frank replied.
"Great!" Joe said. "That way, if it rains again tonight, at least we can have some heat."
Frank reached in and pulled out the front page of a newspaper. "Joe, this newspaper was only printed five days ago."
"Really?" Joe held out his hand, as if he wouldn't believe Frank until he saw for himself. After he looked at the date on it, he shook his head in confusion. "You're right. That means someone was in here in the last few days. But if that's the case, then why is it so bare and dusty in here?"
Frank ran his finger along the back of one of the chairs and then bent down to look at the floor. "It is dusty, but the dust looks disturbed in places. Someone must have come in here but didn't bother to dust."
"Now that you mention that, there aren't any cobwebs on the furniture either," Joe noted. "Just up in the corners."
The room was small, and there was only one door leading out of it besides the front door. Frank pushed this other door open to find a small bedroom with two musty beds in it. Something sticking out from under one of the beds caught his attention and he picked it up. It was a bright blue, empty duffel bag.
"Does this look familiar?" he asked, coming back to the door and holding it up for Joe to see. It was more of a rhetorical question than anything else – he already knew the answer.
"That's my duffel bag!" Joe recognized it immediately. "It was in the plane. So whoever was here must also be the one who snatched our luggage out of the plane. But why? Is any of our other stuff in there?"
"Hold on. I'll check." Frank went back into the bedroom and looked under both beds, but didn't find anything else besides some mice.
"Whoever it was must have vacated the place," he said, coming back into the front room.
"I wonder why, and who," Joe mused. "Do you think it was that red-shirted guy? And that he was the one who set that trap, too?"
"It wouldn't surprise me," Frank replied. "This must be what he was coming down here for. Why would have he left before we even came near the place?"
"It doesn't make any sense," Joe said. "Unless – you don't suppose this is another trap, do you?"
The idea alarmed Frank, but he told himself to stay calm and think. "I doubt it's a trap. That guy wouldn't have had any way of knowing we were coming here, at least not after you stepped in the trap. And even if he did suspect that we'd come here, he couldn't have set a bomb or anything, because he wouldn't know the time. Any other type of trap, he'd actually have to be here."
"I guess so." Joe grinned wryly. "I just can't seem to get traps off my brain."
Frank half-smiled back. "Understandable. Still, just to be absolutely certain, I'll go take a look around outside."
He went out and walked around the house, looking carefully at the walls and foundation for anything that seemed off. When he reached the back, he thought he smelled a faint scent of gasoline. He leaned closer to the wall and realized that the scent was coming from there. He was about to shout when he felt something long poked into his back.
"Don't say a word," a voice softly hissed from behind him.
He was cornered.