Ken let himself crack a small smile before he took another long sip of the steaming coffee. The liquid was already cooling off, a fact that didn’t bode well for the long hours ahead. They’d already wasted so much time, it felt like. He knew they were doing everything they could, everything they thought they did wrong the last time, but it wasn’t making any difference.
No. Thinking like that wouldn’t do Brian and favors, and it wouldn’t help Ken keep his head on straight.
He choked down another gallon or so of coffee before returning his attention to Ariadne. “I think it’s a little late to get hooked, at least for me.” His eyes followed hers, stopping for a brief moment on each of his neighbors. It was like 1984 all over again. Except somehow worse. They’d all been thrown through the ringer when Pete and Philip disappeared, but the evil was supposed to be long gone now. The Devil had been put in jail.
“I’m proud of ‘em, but they should be more careful. I explicitly said to at least have one buddy…” Ken was a stickler for rules, especially in a time like this. It wouldn’t help anything if one of the volunteers went and got themselves lost. “I’m more than happy to join ya,” he replied, inching his way back over to the coffee maker for one more cup for the road. “Just lemme grab a bit more coffee for the journey.”
The forest was dark, darker than it should be for this time of day. Ken pulled out his flashlight, letting the beam bounce around the trees, casting ominous shadows that reminded him of stormy nights at his father’s house. “God, it’s been years since I’ve been out here.” If he was being honest, Ken hadn’t been out to the campgrounds since 1984. His family used to go camping in these woods every year, but after Philip….he just couldn’t bring himself to go anymore. Instead, they found other activities, but it was never the same. “I can’t imagine bein’ a kid alone out here.”
The darkness wasn’t a deterrent for Ariadne, and neither was the chill in the air or how the burning hot coffee felt on chapped lips, matching in hue to cheeks and nose bitten pink by the breeze. If anything, it was motivation. The sun was resting, eyes closed and ready for the next day to take over, but she couldn’t. She could feel fear then: cold and cruel and palpable in October wind. As if she was a lost child herself, searching for a way home. Her home now was with a badge on her chest and the swelling of pride and spirit underneath it, determination warm and suffocating instead of steely. She was where she was supposed to be — Brian wasn’t. And that’s what they had to remedy.
“ I honestly can’t imagine being out here alone now. ” She says, and she can’t. Ariadne had never been camping in her life — she’d grown up in the land of sprawling sidewalks and weekend trips into cities with even more concrete. She was clever and she was determined: but a tent would most likely be what could strike Ariadne down. She couldn’t pitch one if you paid her. But there’s no circles of Kumbaya and s’mores over open fire wherever Brian is, and she knows that; she might be optimistic, but she isn’t naive, or stupid. She can’t even begin to think of herself, nearing thirty, sitting alone and cold in the dark ... and the thought only gets worse with her at eight, more invested in jump ropes and tying her pigtails tight enough than anything else. That’s part of what makes it so horrifying that Brian is gone: just him wasn’t taken, but innocence too. Blown out like a candle on a birthday cake ( stacked with only EIGHT ), snuffed out at a moment’s notice and plunging Devil’s Knot into darkness.
She wants to express sympathy, something strong and reassuring about how she can’t imagine what it would be like to be a parent at a time like this — to be Linda, or, looking at her companion to be Ken, with a small child of his own. Josh must’ve known him, she could say, but there’s a precarious balance of making him feel horrible and letting sympathy be known. She can’t imagine being a parent, and she can’t imagine being Brian, or Beth, or David. She can’t imagine witnessing horror strike Devil’s Knot twice as a resident, of feeling that pain. And even though she loves the town with her whole heart, in that second of consideration, she’s an outsider again. A ghost, observing on something she’s not a part of, or a patron in a museum, where she can see but not touch. Her care for Devil’s Knot, for finding Brian — it’s imperfect, it’s selfish and it’s selfless, it’s difficult to manage. But she wants to try. And so, with her own flashlight flicked on, she moves forward.
