"Only At Night, Part 2" by Angela Perry

With an inviting motion of his head, Joseph turned and climbed the worn wooden stairs, and Cheryl gamely followed him into the dim interior of the Visitors’ Center. She took a deep breath as she entered and thrilled at the scent of ages past. It was one of the things that had lured her into archaeology: the old, dusty smell that pervades timeworn artifacts of bygone days.

Her grandfather had introduced her to the sensation when she was a child, enthusiastically escorting her through museums, bookstores, and historical landmarks. Cheryl had instantly fallen in love. She quickly became an avid collector of what her mother termed “old junk,” covering her shelves and walls with her discoveries. And she never grew out of it. When she had announced her intended major to her family, her mother had thrown up her hands and replied, “I should have known you’d make a profession out of it. Perhaps now you can move your collection to a more suitable place, like a museum, and out of my house.” Cheryl smiled at the memory.

“Feel free to look around,” Joseph invited, sinking into a chair behind a desk that boasted a shiny, obviously not historical, cash register. “The two shelves on the right have souvenirs and such; the rest is for display. If you have any questions, let me know and I’ll make up an answer.”

Cheryl grinned and thanked him, then allowed herself to be drawn into the displays. Numerous photographs of the mining town, taken at the peak of Opal’s prosperity at the turn of the century, covered the walls. She eagerly scanned them but was a little disappointed to find they only showed pictures of buildings, with the occasional group photo of the miner’s guild. The artifacts in the glass display cases were equally fascinating and equally vague: rusted horseshoes, old mining tools, even decaying supplies from the general store. The only names Cheryl saw were the owners of saloons, stores, and other businesses in town. The miners and residents remained anonymous.

She worked her way around the room, feeling a little conspicuous under Joseph’s solicitous gaze. Finally, she reached the point where she had started, not finding any reference to Rosemarie Beaumont.

“Looking for something specific?” Joseph asked curiously as Cheryl sighed in defeat.

“Yes, actually,” Cheryl replied, walking over the desk. “I’m doing a research paper on my grandmother. She lived here in Opal. I saw her name listed on the marker at the top of the path, but I don’t see anything else.”

“She lived here in Opal?” Joseph sat up, looking interested. “What was her name?”

“Rosemarie Beaumont.”

Joseph face went blank, and he stared fixedly at Cheryl. He was silent for several moments.

“What?” Cheryl asked, discomfited.

“Sorry, just thinking,” Joseph shook his head, his smile back in place. He stood and walked over the shelves containing souvenirs.

“Oddly enough,” Joseph continued, pulling a thick book from one of the shelves, “My family, the Jenkins, also comes from Opal.”

“Really?” Cheryl hurried over take the book he held out for her. “That’s great! Then you probably know a lot about Opal.”

“Well, I don’t know about a lot,” he shrugged modestly, “But I’ve done some research. This book contains a compilation of historical research done by a local group. I seem to remember seeing your great-grandmother’s name mentioned several time.”

“Wow, thanks,” Cheryl opened the book exultantly, scanning through the index until she found Rosemarie’s name. “You’re right, here she is. And…hmm…there’s a lot of information here.”

She looked up to see Joseph nod. “Most documents of any historical worth were destroyed in the 1912 fire, but a large portion of Rosemarie Beaumont’s diary survived. It’s on display at the state library in Helena. That’s why I was a little surprised when you said she was your great-grandmother. She’s kind of a local celebrity.”

“No kidding?” Cheryl said, astonished at her good fortune. “This research paper is going to be awesome! But I want to get this book too,” she waved the book Joseph had given her in the air, “So that I can get background information.”

Cheryl glanced at the price on the cover and made a choking sound. “65 dollars? This is a bad as a textbook!”

“Yeah, small publishers like to squeeze their money out of you,” Joseph replied apologetically, going back behind the counter. He pulled out a notebook and leafed through it. “Ah, I can give you starving student discount, though. For academic purposes, the book is only 45 dollars.”

“Alright,” Cheryl muttered, pulling out her checkbook. “Maybe I can talk my dad into buying it from me when I’m done, since it has all that research about great-grandma in it.”

Cheryl wrote out the check and managed to wince only slightly as she handed it to Joseph. He rung up the purchase, and tucked the book into a plain brown bag before handing it to her.

“Is there anything else I can get for you today, madam?” he asked with a wink.

“Actually, I have a question. Would it be possible for me to camp somewhere nearby? I’d like to spend some time out here looking at everything. I brought a tent so I wouldn’t have to go all the way back tonight.”

Joseph scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I guess it would be okay,” he said. “They rent out some of the cabins here during the winter. As long as you don’t mind camping in a ghost town…” His eyes twinkled mischievously.

“I think I can survive the night,” Cheryl said dryly. “I’m a big girl.”

“Okay then, if you’re sure…. And honestly,” Joseph said, dropping his bantering tone, “I sleep in one of the cabins if you need anything. The guides double as guards to prevent people from vandalizing the town. Usually there are two of us here, but Diane is in town picking up groceries today.”

“You mean you live out here?” Cheryl asked, wrinkling her nose. “That has to get boring.”

Joseph shrugged. “It’s only for three months during the summer, and the pay is really good. Besides, I like this place. I’ve gotten attached to it, I guess.”

“Okay, well thanks then,” Cheryl waved. “I’m off to unpack and get set up, and then I’ll explore a bit if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” Joseph agreed, “You can grab one of those pamphlets by the door. It has a self-guided tour inside.”

Cheryl followed his suggestion and snagged a pamphlet on her way out. She toiled back up the path to her car and, after exchanging her shoes for ones with good tread, began lugging down camping equipment. Three trips later, she was dusty and sweating in the hot noontime sun, but her camping gear was in a pile near one of the old log cabins.

Cheryl flopped onto the pile, ignoring the tent poles that dug into her back, and pulled out a chocolate bar and the pamphlet. She skimmed through the pamphlet as she chewed but saw no reference to any Beaumonts. With a sigh, she stood and tucked the pamphlet in her back pocket, turning her attention to getting her camp set up. She would wander around later, she decided, after she set up camp and grabbed something more than a candy bar for lunch.

*  *  *

The light had all but gone by the time Cheryl finished exploring the town to her satisfaction. Nearly two dozen buildings had survived the ravages of time. Some were just as the residents left them, touched only by time, with rusted bed springs on the floors and dusty frames for pictures on the walls. Others had been restored to an extent by the park service, who shored up the foundations and repaired the rotten wood.

These repaired buildings were open to the public for exploration. Cheryl had enjoyed the rare pleasure of exploring an era long gone, wandering through empty rooms and echoing hallways. Her favorite building was the three-story E. M. Foley hotel, with rich wallpaper and shining hardwood embellishments. The building had been extravagant in its day, and wealthy travelers from the east had often gone out of their way to enjoy the luxuries provided by the lovely Mrs. Foley.

Unfortunately, most of the other large business along the main street had been destroyed in the 1912 fire, but Cheryl had been able to spend plenty of time in the surviving buildings. Davey’s Grocery had survived, along with some of the goods, which were displayed on shelves in the store. The remaining buildings were merely family residences and miners’ cabins, but Cheryl explored them all with equal glee.

Tired but pleased, the sun sinking below the ridge, she plodded back to her tent and crawled inside. She changed out of her dusty clothes into pajamas and crawled inside her sleeping bag, propping herself up on her pillow and reaching for a book. The novel she was reading, however, just couldn’t hold her attention. Her mind was spinning with everything she had seen, and the long day had taken its toll.

Cheryl yawned drowsily and tucked away her book, then turned out her flashlight. Snuggling into her sleeping bag, she listened to the wind soughing through the branches above. The moon painted silhouettes of the tree branches on the top of the tent, creating interlocking patterns of crooked lines. She could almost believe she was back in 1900, her only light the moon and stars, the darkness and silence complete. She dozed off to the sound of an owl calling mournfully in the distance.

What is the commotion? The moon shining through my window is at its peak; it must be the middle of the night. I walk to the door and see people scurrying down the road in pajamas and dressing gowns. Odd happenings for Opal.

I pull on a gown over my sleeping shift and step into the cool autumn air. Lanterns casting small pools of light drift past me. People are muttering and whispering. Most of them seem to be as confused as I.

A sudden shot ricochets through the darkness. Around me, people begin screaming and calling, crouching and dodging for cover. I hear yelling and run toward the sounds. A group of men are clustered ahead of me on the main street.

“You dang fool!”

“What were tryin’ to do, kill someone?”

“Send for Deputy Wright.”

I push into the knot of men, demanding to be let through. “I heard the shot. Is anyone wounded? Let me past, James Percy, imbécile. It is Rosemarie.”

I manage to force my way past the large oafs blocking my way, then stop as I see the cause of the commotion. Al Wintle, the town drunk, is pacing unsteadily back and forth on the road, his eyes wild. A dark shape is slumped on the ground near his feet.

“Dieu, what has happened,” I cry, jumping toward the huddled form.

“Whoa, easy there Rosemarie,” one of the men says, placing his hand on my shoulder and pulling me back. I glance behind me to see Jim Ford, owner of the large grocery store. “It’s only a dog, that black and white mongrel of Dailey’s. Al was hollering nonsense about demons and shape shifters, woke half the town. The next thing we know, he blows a hole through the dog’s skull with his rifle.” Jim holds up a rifle that I assume belongs to Al.

“It ain’t nonsense!” Al proclaims, stumbling over to Jim and me, his breath powerful. “I swear, I saw that dog standing in the road, watching someone, when I came out of Hughes’ Saloon. Next thing I know, the dog and the…the someone just…join together! The dog’s eyes were glowing green, evil green.” He looks around frantically. “Don’t you see, I saved you all! ‘Twas the devil, come to Opal in his own skin!”

Jim holds Al at arm’s length, waving his hand in front of his face to ward off the overpowering scent of liquor.

“Where’s the deputy,” Jim calls, “It’s time he put that new jail to use.”

On cue, Deputy Wright pushes through the crowd, yawning widely.

“Wha’s this all about?” he gapes, staring around him sleepily.

“Al Wintle shot my dog!” Leonard Dailey calls from the crowd, pointing to the dead animal in the street.

Everyone glances once more at the corpse as they follow Leonard’s gesture, then look at the deputy to hear him pronounce judgment. Except me. I cannot tear my eyes from the still form in the road. The world seems to waver. The voices around me fade. A thick black haze, blacker even than the night, is rising from the dead animal. I try to call out, but I am paralyzed, frozen in fear. I cannot move. I cannot turn my eyes. I cannot breathe. The evil…

Cheryl jerked awake, shaking and sweating profusely. She glanced around frantically, panicking, before realizing where she was. The moon was high overhead now, shining through the nylon ceiling of her tent. The wind had picked up strength, and it rattled the sides of the tent and sent the shadows tossing.

Terror clung to Cheryl like a living thing. Her senses were all acutely tuned, her nerves taut. Small sounds seemed to echo eerily: branches creaking; the rustling of dry grass; somewhere in the ghost town, a door slamming in the wind; the plunk of something jumping into the creek.

A slightly metallic buzz snatched her eyes to the tent door. The zipper. The wind caught the tent again, and the zipper rose a little more. It’s just the wind, Cheryl told herself, trying to remain calm. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Another gust of wind hit the tent, shaking it. The zipper lifted a few more notches. The wind quieted slightly, but this time, the zipper continued upward. Cheryl stared, frozen, as the zipper moved of its own accord to the top of the tent. Chill wind blew through the breach, fluttering the open tent flaps.

Through the open doorway, Cheryl glimpsed grass highlighted faintly in the moonlight, fading to blackness. Movement caught her eye, but it was only a bush rustling in the wind. No one was there.

She had never been more afraid. Her heart thumped loudly; she was having trouble breathing. It felt as if a great weight were pressing down on her chest. She gasped for air, fighting to move, but she was paralyzed. The pressure on her chest increased. Her eyes darted frantically, trying to discover a way to escape.

Then, floating in midair, two green disembodied eyes appeared above her. Below the eyes, sharp pointed teeth split the air in a grin. The demonic face hissed with mirth. Silent tears began running down Cheryl’s face. Blackness was closing in on her. She could not breathe. The thing pressing on her chest seemed to grow heavier with each passing second.

Abruptly, the weight on her chest lessened slightly. Cheryl gasped shallowly for breath. The eyes and teeth disappeared, and strange grunting noises filled the tent. The weight on her chest shifted violently from side to side, making the tent bulge and shake. An inhuman cry rent the night, and suddenly the weight on Cheryl’s chest was gone.

She lay panting on the tent floor, terrified beyond thought. The wind continued to moan around the tent, shadows chasing each other over the surface. Gradually, Cheryl felt her shaking ease. The fear did not dissipate, but she found herself able to breathe deeply again. Unsteadily, she pulled herself upright, almost afraid to move lest she attract the attention of the…creature…again.

The rustle of footsteps outside her tent made her freeze. A voice called over the wind.

“Hello! Cheryl?”

A flashlight beam played over the tent for a moment, then a shaggy red head was thrust into the tent.

“Cheryl, are you okay? Was that you who screamed”

Cheryl let out the breath she had been holding in a rush.

“Joseph!” she gasped limply. “Something…something was here. In the tent with me.”

Joseph head came up. Mutely, he flashed his light around inside the tent, then disappeared for a moment. Cheryl could hear him walking around the tent, searching. Finally, he pushed his way back into the tent and knelt facing her, his face all sharp planes in the glow from the flashlight.

“I don’t see anything now. Some kind of wild animal got in here?”

“No,” Cheryl shook her head, “Not an animal. Some…I don’t know…some thing! It had glowing green eyes and huge pointy teeth. It tried to crush me.”

Joseph looked pensive. “Perhaps you should come back to the cabin with me. I’ll fix you some hot cocoa, and you can finish telling me about your visitor.”

“Okay,” Cheryl nodded, wiping tearstains from her face. Shaking, she tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness made her sit again.

“It’s alright,” Joseph reassured her. “Put your head between your knees, there, that’s it. You’ll be okay. I’ll help you to the cabin.”

The dizziness passed, and with Joseph’s help, Cheryl managed to pull herself from the tent. Joseph supported her down to his cabin. Lights shone from the window, and a pretty brunette with short, sleep-mussed hair stood as they entered.

“What happened?” the woman asked, rushing to help Cheryl find a place to sit.

“Something got into her tent,” Joseph answered, disappearing into the kitchen. Over the clanking and rustling as he made cocoa, Joseph explained what little Cheryl had told him. The woman seemed taken aback at his words and went to join him in the kitchen, first making certain that Cheryl was comfortably huddled in a blanket on the worn blue couch. Cheryl could hear them talking in low voices but could not make out what they were saying.

Great, she thought, they I’m nuts.

Honestly, she was even beginning to wonder herself. Here in the warm cabin, with the lights burning and the sound of the wind muffled, Cheryl could almost believe it had only been a vivid dream. Except that she had never, not even in her worst nightmares, imagined such a creature. Add to that the strange dreams and visions she had been having, and you ended up with…what? Something absolutely confusing and not a little frightening, Cheryl decided.

Joseph interrupted her thoughts by handing her a steaming mug of cocoa. “Sorry, no marshmallows,” he apologized, his cheerful smile weak.

He sank into an overstuffed chair upholstered in olive green velvet, pulling it so it faced the couch. The brunette, carrying her own mug of cocoa, sank down on the couch next to Cheryl.

“I don’t think you’ve been introduced,” Joseph said, motioning to the woman. “This is Diane. She’s the other guide I told you about. She lives in the cabin behind this one.”

“I came over when I heard you scream,” Diane explained. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? I’ve never heard a scream like that.”

“It wasn’t me that screamed,” Cheryl shook her head. “I couldn’t even breathe. It was the thing that got in my tent. It was like something invisible attacked it. It struggled, then it screamed and went away.”

Cheryl saw Joseph and Diane glance at each other. Diane looked skeptical, but Cheryl thought Joseph looked markedly upset. His single thick brow was lowered over his eyes, and he kept running his hand through his hair, making it more disheveled than usual.

“Well, whatever it was, one thing is for sure,” Joseph said, “You can’t sleep outside tonight. Diane has a hideaway couch in her cabin. You can sleep there. In the morning, I’ll go into town and phone the park service to report this. They’ll probably want to talk to you, too.”

“Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll get any more sleep tonight,” Cheryl said nervously. “Every time I close my eyes I see those glowing green eyes staring back at me.”

Distress crossed Joseph’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that. I feel just terrible that this happened. Are you sure you can’t try to get a little sleep? It’s barely one o’clock, and it’s a long drive out of here tomorrow. Please try?”

“Okay, okay,” Cheryl smiled a little at Joseph’s earnest expression. “But,” she said, turning to Diane, “Would you mind if I slept with a light on?”

“Of course,” Diane smile was slightly condescending. “I’ll take you over there to get settled right now.”

She stood and motioned for Cheryl to follow her. Joseph held the door for them as they left. As she passed, Cheryl paused by Joseph for moment.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” she said quietly, looking up at him. “I was so afraid…”

Joseph brushed off her thanks with a motion of his hand. “Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his eyes dark. “I should have insisted you take a cabin. I know there are wild animals out here that can be dangerous. There’s been a grizzly attack already this year, and we have mountain lions, and wolves.” He looked intently into her eyes. “Dangerous creatures have a harder time getting into houses. Remember that if you come out here again.”

Cheryl nodded silently and followed Diane, who had been waiting impatiently on the porch, to the cabin behind Joseph’s. Diane had left a lamp on in the front room, and Cheryl looked around as she entered. It was nearly the same as Joseph’s: threadbare furniture, log walls decorated with hunting trophies, rag rugs on the floor.

“Help me pull this out,” Diane requested, pulling the cushions off the couch. Rather than blue, her couch was red plaid and quite garish. Cheryl hoped it was more comfortable than it was attractive. The hideaway springs creaked as they pulled out the bed, and Cheryl coughed as dust rose around them.

“Sorry,” Diane smiled, “I don’t use this much. I hope you sleep okay.”

Cheryl shrugged. “If I don’t, it won’t be the couch’s fault,” she said dryly.

Diane stared at her for a moment, then smiled patronizingly. “Of course. You can leave that lamp on there. I’m going to bed, but if you need anything, come and get me, okay? This cabin makes strange sounds at night sometimes.”

Cheryl gritted her teeth. Great, not only did they think she was crazy, now Diane thought she needed her mommy. She forced a smile.

“Oh, thank you,” she gushed, “I feel much better knowing you’re here.”

Diane nodded imperiously, completely missing the sarcasm, and closed her bedroom door behind her. Cheryl pulled a face at the closed door, then gingerly sat on the dusty hideaway bed. The springs groaned noisily, and she cringed. Well, she promised she would try to get some sleep. Ignoring the creaking, Cheryl climbed under the blankets, certain she was going to be awake all night.