Todd lay in his bed, staring absently at the life-sized poster of his wrestling hero, The Rock, which hung on the wall beside his bed. The poster had always given him strength in the past. But now, looking at The Rock made him feel small and weak. He didn’t think that his fear would go away even if his hero suddenly appeared before him in person.
He had tried to understand what had happened to him. He had rolled it all around in his head, every way that he could, but it still didn’t make any sense. He had tried to believe his Mom and Dad, had tried so very hard to accept the horror as a dream, a product of his imagination, the darkness, and the moonlight.
But in his heart, he couldn’t believe. He knew it had all been real. Hauntingly, terribly real. He hadn’t imagined the polished stone. And he hadn’t imagined the blood.
He could still see the terrible place whenever he closed his eyes. The sight of the awful black stone was permanently engraved into his mind. His fingers still tingled with the remembered cold, then heat of its touch. He shivered involuntarily at the thought and pulled the blankets up around his neck. Yet they did nothing to stop the cold, which chilled him to the very marrow of his bones.
He looked into the Rock’s eyes, seeking an answer. But the poster stared past him as if he were not even there. It would offer no help.
No, he was alone on this one. And Mom and Dad would be no help. They still thought his imagination was running wild. He remembered how his Mom had taken his temperature and started feeding him pills, as if that would do any good.
It had been real. The blood had been real. And his geologist’s hammer was broken-that was real. His Uncle Mike had taught him a lot about rocks and had told him that hammer wouldn’t break. He’d been able to chip quartz with that hammer. And quartz was harder than almost anything, except diamond, he remembered. The hammer hadn’t broken by itself.
Then he thought about the Indian, Dovecrest. Maybe he would understand.
Todd couldn’t remember the Indian actually finding him in the woods, but he sensed that somehow, Dovecrest knew. Yet despite being rescued by the strange man, the thought of speaking to him was almost as frightening as the black rock itself.
Loneliness suddenly consumed him and he shivered harder. He wished Faith were here to console him. Scratching her ears and listening to her purr always made him feel better.
“Mom!” he shouted. “Mom!”
Having a fever definitely had its advantages. His mother immediately hurried up the stairs to tend to him. She entered his room and he noticed that she walked funny now. It was because of the baby growing inside of her, and he suddenly felt bad about making her hurry.
“What is it, Todd?”
“I’m cold. And I need Faith.”
“Oh, I put Faith out about an hour ago. She was scratching at the door. She should be back soon, though.
“Oh,” he said, disappointed. Then a sudden chill ran up his spine as he thought of what might be lurking outside.
“Can I bring you some chocolate milk?” his mother asked.
“I guess so. But I really wanted Faith to sleep with me.”
“I’ll bring her up as soon as she comes in.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
His mother leaned over and hugged him, and it was good. Even though he was a big boy now, too big for such things, he hugged her back as tightly as he could.