Chapter 4

Matt set out that same night on the family's battered old heavy-frame Schwinn bicycle.

He followed the direction the blind man had gone, stopping at every village and asking everyone he met.

"Sir, have you seen a fortune-teller who walks with a bamboo pole and can't see?"

"Ma'am, excuse me, has a blind stranger from out of town come around here begging lately?"

In the countryside of the eighties, news traveled slowly, and a blind stranger was like a stone dropped into a lake. He always left a few ripples behind. After two villages, Matt found someone who had seen him.

"Oh, you mean that blind old man! He showed up at the edge of our village the day before yesterday. Then he headed off toward East Ridge."

"East Ridge?"

"That's right, the East Ridge with the abandoned chapel. Folks say he sleeps in that old chapel at night."

With this crucial lead, Matt's spirits shot up. He swung his bike around at once and pedaled toward East Ridge, about five miles off.

The road got rougher and rougher until he couldn't ride anymore. He had to leave the bike at the foot of the ridge and climb on foot. The trail was steep and broken, wrapped in night fog. The trees rustled all around him, and unseen insects droned, making the place feel deeply eerie.

Matt had only one thought in his head: find the blind man, save Grandma. That thought kept him going and pushed down every bit of fear.

After climbing for more than half an hour, he finally made out the outline of the chapel halfway up the slope.

It was small, and half of it had long since caved in. All that remained was one main wall and a few posts. Inside, a weak fire flickered.

Beside the fire sat a thin, bony figure.

It was the blind man.

He seemed to have known all along that Matt would come. He showed no surprise at all, just quietly added a dry branch to the fire.

"You've come?" the blind man said, his voice hoarse.

Matt hurried over and, not bothering with manners, dropped to his knees with a thud.

"Sir! Please, I'm begging you, save my grandma!" His voice cracked with tears as he bowed until his forehead struck the ground hard.

The blind man didn't help him up. His grayish-white eyes "looked" at the fire as he said slowly, "Your grandmother... she doesn't have much longer, does she?"

"Yes!" Matt said urgently. "She won't eat or drink, she has no strength left, and she keeps saying a black shadow is pressing down on her. Sir, I know it's that black cat doing this! I'm begging you, have mercy and show me a way out!"

The blind man fell silent. The only sound was the crackle and pop of wood in the fire.

After a long while, he let out a slow sigh. "It isn't that I won't help. It's that once a 'thing' like this has grown powerful and latched on to you, it's very hard to shake off. It has its eye on the years your old woman has left, and it means to drain her life force dry. Forcing your way in comes at a price."

"Whatever the price, we'll pay it!" Matt raised his head, his eyes pleading. "As long as you can save my grandma's life, I'll do anything!"

The blind man slowly turned his head, his unfocused eyes aimed straight at Matt's face. In the dark, his expression was impossible to read.

He spoke one word at a time, slow and clear:

"The price? Your family... has already paid it."

Matt froze where he knelt, his face full of disbelief.

"What? We... what did we give?"

The blind man held up two withered fingers and waved them in front of the fire.

"The two buns your grandmother gave me."

His lips split into a strange smile, his yellow teeth glinting in and out of the firelight.

"Why do you think I only asked for two that day?"