A Bridge of Shadow Read online

  “Aye, Captain. I will be in my quarters if you need me,” White grumbled.

  Lane watched as the man descended the stairs to his quarters and couldn't help but think about the look that had been pasted on White's face when he stared into the forest. Lane returned to his quarters and sat upon the bed, replaying the look in his head. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. It was only after his eyes closed that he recognized the emotion on White's face. It wasn't despair or concern for the lost colonists. It had been fear. But fear of what? Certainly not of savages since White had spent years on the island with them and had been used to their behaviors. Something spooked White, something having to do with the colony's disappearance. “What do you think happened to them, John?” he whispered to the darkness before drifting into sleep.

  “The eighteenth of August. Captain Lane and I have agreed that due to extreme weather conditions we will set sail for the island of St. John's. We are running low on fresh water and the storm damaged two of our anchors. We came perilously close to being run aground near Hatteras Island. The storm battered the ship like a ram against a gate. I mourn the fact I was unable to reunite with my family or my brethren on Roanoke Island and I can only hope and pray they are safe.”

  -John White

  He closed his journal and put his head down. The queer feeling of being watched on the island still haunted him. The word “CROATOAN” haunted him. When he first spotted the word he thought their disappearance could easily be explained; the colonists simply left the island for Croatoan Island. The boats still present, however, removed the simplicity of the situation. His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember something learned while living among the natives. It had something to do with a legend passed down by their Algonquin ancestors. He recalled rumors spreading amongst the settlers regarding the other tribes resorting to cannibalism. Food supplies had been running low among them and they became desperate. There had also been an old Algonquin tribal legend which spoke of demons possessing people causing them to feed on human flesh. These poor souls would forever roam, eternally seeking new victims to feed upon since their hunger would never be sated.

  “No that can't be!” White muttered to himself. “There were no signs of that sort of thing happening to the Roanoke settlers!” Cannibalism? He had never witnessed such a thing in all his years spent among the tribes or the settlers. Doubt began to creep into his thoughts as he remembered a discussion he had with one of the tribal elders. The elder stated that some of the hostile tribes along the barrier islands began eating each other because their food sources had all but vanished due to an unusual drought that ravaged the area. He mentioned the demon legend and believed these foul creatures were somehow conjured by the island tribes to seek out food sources. Other tribesmen claimed they had witnessed these beasts before, describing them as having hearts of ice with claws as long and as sharp as spears. Their teeth, pointed and equally as sharp, burned like hot irons when biting into one's flesh. The Algonquin had a name for this monstrous spirit of darkness. They referred to it as a Wendigo.

  “Wendigo.” The word slipped from his lips like a fine mist. Surely the tales had been meant to scare the children and curious settlers, but he could not shake what he saw within the depths of the forest, peering from the trees. His thoughts drifted to the pair of scarlet eyes fixed on their group as they left the colony. Surely, he did not imagine the tall gaunt figure moving from one tree to another, eyeing them hungrily. John refused to tell the captain about what he saw for fear the privateer would think he had gone mad. The tribal word continued to float through his mind like a piece of driftwood.

  Wendigo.

  * * *

  Bodie Island, North Carolina, August 1993

  August 30th, 2:00 pm

  “The National Weather Service has issued a hurricane warning for Eastern North Carolina, The Outer Banks, Virginia Beach as well as Delaware and Maryland coastal areas. Damaging winds, severe flooding, and loss of power are expected within these areas. The Governor of North Carolina has issued a mandatory evacuation for low lying coastal areas. Stay tuned to this channel for further updates and instructions.” -WTVR News, North Carolina.

  August 31st, 5:00 pm

  “Hurricane Emily has made landfall off of the coast of North Carolina. According to the National Weather Service, The hurricane is currently a Category Two storm and as such, residents are to remain indoors or at their current evacuation points until the storm passes over. There are reports of three to five foot storm surges off of the coast near the town of Buxton as well as over seven inches of rain. News reports have reported sinkholes in the area south of Buxton along Highway 12. Residents who have not evacuated are urged to remain indoors as there are also reports of downed power lines. The storm is expected to make landfall as a Category Three. Stay tuned to this news station for further updates and instructions.” -WTVR News, North Carolina.

  September 1st, 11:35 pm

  “Hurricane Emily has moved out of the Outer Banks and appears to be heading north towards Virginia. Early reports state that the damage along the Outer Banks is catastrophic.” Ted Koppel announced to the television audience. “As of right now we have lost contact with several correspondents due to the power outages. Early reports are estimating preliminary damage around thirty-five million dollars. Local news agencies report two deaths along the Nags Head coastline. Over 160,000 people have been evacuated along the North Carolina barrier islands. I urge residents to remain at home and off the roads to allow emergency crews to do their jobs.” -James Hunt, Governor of North Carolina

  What the Governor did not realize was something else happened during the storm. With all things considered it was relatively unimportant in regard to the storm itself, but the impact of events could not be denied. Along the coast of Bodie Island, near the keeper's quarters of the lighthouse serving as a beacon for ships passing thru the inlets of the barrier islands, something long forgotten had been unearthed. On the coast of Lighthouse Bay washed ashore a small wooden chest not much bigger than a toaster, battered by hundreds of years of weather and time. The chest landed on shore and came to rest along a stony embankment, but the storm was not done with its plan for this particular piece of ancient debris. The gusts of wind accompanying the storm actually launched the chest into a sinkhole where it came to rest within the center like a perfect hole-in-one. It was either by natural or supernatural forces (which are still debated to this day), huge chunks of wood and concrete debris that had been tossed around by the storm filled the hole and covered the chest where it would remain. It was not meant to be discovered.

  Yet.

  * * *

  Bodie Island Lighthouse, May 2011

  Vinnie was suffering a tropical storm-sized headache that was slowly morphing into Hurricane Migraine. The restoration of the Bodie Island Lighthouse was taxing his patience as well as his budget. Two years ago the National Park Service approved the work of restoring the cast iron and masonry of the lighthouse including the structural work of the keeper's quarters, however Vinnie and his crew continued suffering challenges on a daily basis. Work had to be stopped last year due to structural deficiencies associated with corrosion of the metal on the lighthouse gallery and lantern levels. Vinnie strolled along the bypass road near the keeper's quarters, pondering how he could weasel out of this job and into early retirement when all of a sudden he heard a thud and a shout.

  “GODDAMIT!”

  Vinnie hurried to the southeast side of the building where one of his crewmen, Steven Grayson, was stuck halfway into the ground roughly twenty five feet from the entrance to the lighthouse parking area.

  “Jesus Christ, Steve hold on I'm coming.” Vinnie grabbed him by the wrists and pulled. The man popped from the hole like a cork from a bottle.

  Both men fell backwards from the momentum. With the exception of a few cuts and bruises Steve appeared unhurt.

  “My ribs hurt like a son of a bitch,” Steve grunted.

  “What the hell ha
ppened?” Vinnie asked.

  Steven stood up with a grumble and brushed himself off. “I was heading to the truck to get another trowel because either the crew keeps stealing the damn things or this lighthouse is eating them. I was walking across what I thought was just a pile of debris when I fell straight into this hole!”

  “Well are you ok?” Vinnie asked. “You know this project has been a nightmare and I can't afford you taking time off and sucking the teat of the worker's compensation program.”

  Steven saluted with his middle finger. “You know I'm the only stonemason worth a damn in this state. If I was out, you would be trying to put this place together like Lego with your thumb up your ass.”

  Vinnie grunted. Steven was examined the hole and turned to Vinnie. “Hey you got a flashlight?”

  Vinnie fumbled around in his back pocket, brought out a mini Maglite and handed it to him. “What do you see? Please tell me it's buried treasure and maybe I'll cut you in some.”

  Steven grabbed the flashlight and struggled to see down the hole, ignoring the quip. He pointed the beam of light towards the center of the hole. “Hey, Vin, check that out. You see that?”

  Vinnie peered into the hole. At first he could see nothing but gloom, but as his eyes adjusted he noticed the flashlight beam reflecting off of an object. It seemed to be a wood container about the size of a small microwave located at the bottom. “Help me move some of this debris out of the way so I can reach it.”

  They cleared some of the larger tree branches and a large portion of the chunks of stone that blocked access to the object. Despite his best efforts Vinnie couldn't quite reach it. It appeared his love of New York style pizza prevented him from reaching the object without some sort of excavation equipment. He looked over to Steven who was slim enough to reach it. “Hey Steve, apparently I need a diet. Do you think you can reach it?”

  Steven grunted and rolled his eyes. “Time for a diet, fatty.”

  Vinnie had to resist the urge to shove Steven into the hole. Steven squatted and entered the hole while Vinnie grabbed his ankles and helped lower him into the hole. Even with Steven's slim physique it was still a struggle to get him into the hole.

  Steve gripped the object and made sure it was secure before calling out. “Ok Vin, go ahead and pull. I got it.”

  Vinnie pulled and with some effort dragged him out. When the man popped from the hole he lost his grip on the object and it landed nearby in the grass. As soon as Vinnie saw it he immediately remembered a scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark where Indy and his lady friend were tied up and the bad guys were about to open the Ark. The chest resembled a wooden miniature replica of that box. They both approached the object cautiously.

  Steven gawked at the object. “Hey that thing looks old, do you think it might be worth something?”

  Vinnie studied it. He knew nothing about old stuff like this. He was a construction worker not an archaeologist. He ran his hand across its surface. “Well let's see what is inside.” He gripped the lid from a corner and tugged but the lid didn't budge. “Hey Steve, can you run to my truck and grab a flat head? This lid is stuck.”

  Steven returned with a flat head screwdriver. He handed it to Vinnie and started drooling at the thought of some sort of ancient treasure pouring out of it as soon as the lid was opened as if it were some sort of ancient piñata.

  Vinnie stabbed the top of the box with the screwdriver. At first the lid refused the screwdriver's advances, but he added some extra elbow grease and eventually the lid popped off. The men shoved at each other to get the first glimpse of the contents.

  Inside the box was a leather-bound book. Vinnie grabbed it and turned it over in his hands. Upon closer inspection it seemed to be a journal of some kind. He glanced at Steven who looked as if someone punched him in the gut. “Not much in the way of gold and jewels, huh?”

  “Nope, not really,” acknowledged Steven. “Might as well open it and see what's inside.”

  Vinnie opened the journal. The words appeared to be an older version of English. There were several words spelled incorrectly with either an extra e or a random y. “Well the book seems to be old,” he admitted. “A lot of these pages are worn and strange looking. Not like paper you see nowadays.” He turned to Steven. “I guess we should call someone and let them know what we found.”

  “Maybe we should call the police, in case this belongs to someone. I don't want to get pinched for stealing,” Steven replied.

  When Vinnie nodded in agreement, Steven grabbed his cell phone and dialed the Dare County Sheriff's Department. The dispatcher advised that an officer would be along within the hour. Vinnie supposed a box found in a hole didn't signify much of a priority for the Sheriff's Department.

  They were in the middle of a debate on how they would tackle the problem with the masonry work at the base of the lighthouse when a dark colored Ford Crown Victoria pulled up. The driver door opened and out stepped a thin, blond haired man with glasses who looked more suited for the engineering department at Wake Forest than the Dare County Sheriff Department. The deputy approached the men and introduced himself.

  “Hi, I am Deputy Michael Schraeder from the Dare County Sheriff Department. I hear you guys found something strange?” he asked in a deep voice that belied his physique.

  “Yes sir. My name is Vinnie Rouse and this is Steven Grayson. Steve here managed to get stuck in a sinkhole and after pulling his dumb ass out, we found this.” Vinnie handed the book over to the cop, but didn't miss the irritated look Steven tossed him.

  The investigator took the book and flipped through the pages. “Hmm, a lot of these words are strange, sort of like reading Shakespeare.” His glance drifted away from the pages and towards the men. “Dispatcher said you found a box?”

  Steven handed the box over to the cop. “Here is the box, and it looks old. But it seems to have held up over the years pretty good.”

  The deputy placed the book inside the box. “Well here's the deal. There isn't much we can do since nothing like this has been reported stolen. Stuff like this just ends up in the property room collecting dust but since this appears pretty old, I have a cousin at Brenau University who is a professor of anthropology. If anyone is able to identify this and figure out where it came from, it would be her. Let me take down your contact information so if she has any questions she can contact you directly.”

  After jotting their information into his notepad, Michael placed the box in the back of his vehicle, got inside and took off. During the return trip to headquarters, he flipped open his cell phone and dialed his cousin. After three rings a pleasant voice on the other end answered. “Brenau University Anthropology Department, this is Professor Barbara Perkins, how may I help you?”

  “Hey Barbara this is Mike,” he responded. “Sorry I have to make this brief because I have some reports that need to be completed before the end of my shift. Earlier today, two guys working construction at the Bodie Lighthouse found something you might be interested in. It looks like an old chest with a book inside. The words on the pages appear to be something straight out of a Shakespeare novel. Do you mind if I ship this down to you and see what you can make out of it?”

  “Well hello to you too, Mike!” she replied. “Go ahead and ship it over here and mark it to my attention so it makes its way to me. Make sure my name is on the package or the morons at the front desk will never get it to me.”

  “Thanks, cuz.” Mike said. “I will ship it out today and you should have it in a day or so. Say hello to Brian and the kids. Sorry to be so brief, but I promise to schedule a get together soon.”

  “I look forward to it,” she replied.

  * * *

  Two days later she was still thinking about what Mike had said. The words that are written in it appear to be something straight out of a Shakespeare novel. A book found off the coast of North Carolina with this style of language can only be from the Renaissance era. She originally thought of a Civil War journal but the fact it was inside a chest m
ade her think otherwise. She could hardly contain her excitement and anticipated the arrival of this new find. She was sitting behind her desk working on the final parts of the exam she would unleash upon her students when her phone rang. She answered on the second ring and a voice on the other end said, “There is a package for you at the front desk, Professor.”

  Barbara practically tripped over herself getting to the front desk. Sitting beside the desk was a package roughly the size of a microwave. “Can I borrow your cart, Bill?” she asked the front desk guard. He rolled over a steel frame cart used for hauling school supplies back and forth. She loaded the package onto the cart and returned to her office. She gently picked up the package and placed it on her desk and with careful precision sliced the top of the box open with a box cutter. She removed the book and set it carefully beside the box.

  “Well look what we have here.” She admired the chest which had been battered by time and weather but sturdy and still relatively intact. The ancient craftsmanship of the chest was marvelous she acknowledged as she slowly walked around it. She ran her hand over the recessed flat tops and curving acanthus leaves adorning it. Her eyes widened when she noticed the sides revealed the influence of classical Roman sarcophagi. The chest had also been decorated with bizarre masks and strange figures with elegantly contorted forms typical of chests from the Renaissance Era. This chest seemed to be Italian made and carved from a single tree trunk. Her curiosity switched to the book lying beside the box.

  As soon as she flipped through the pages she realized it was a journal or codex of some kind. The book, bound in vellum with pages made from an ancient parchment material, confirmed the authenticity of the find. As she browsed the pages of the book she was ecstatic when she noted a date written on the first page; 1589. A journal from the New World! She could hardly contain her excitement. As she read through the pages she realized that translation from the old English would take some time.