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“Guys, you have to see this,” said Stephen from the entrance of the cabin. He had gone inside, and came back out to call them in. He waved at them, excitement lighting his features, like a mischievous child beckoning his brothers after discovering where their parents hid the Christmas presents.

  “Don’t go in,” said Rachel.

  Alma pried her friend’s fingers from her arm. “I’m going. It’s time for this to end. Whatever I’ve forgotten, I can handle it now.”

  The sun seemed to provide no heat, the wind held no sway, and the cabin dominated Alma’s every sense. Even the sound of her friends’ voices seemed lost as if in a cavern, far off and echoing. She walked to the threshold, and stepped through.

  Her senses returned to normal once inside, although a moment of time seemed lost to her. Now, everyone was inside, and Stephen was closing the door behind her. The cabin’s door closed like the lid of a tomb, loud with heft.

  “Look at this shit,” said Stephen as he walked to a couch in the living room where two mannequins had been set up.

  The cabin was the same, eerily accurate. It was different from when Alma had come here with her mother, and had been reverted back to what it looked like on March 14th, 1996. It was as if someone had stolen Alma’s memories to recreate the room exactly as it was.

  The couch was brown and musty, with a pattern of waving lines that looked Native American. The area rug was green and plain, with a hole in it where a dog had eaten through while chewing on a bone.

  That dog, the one with the missing eye and yellow teeth. The dog that belonged to the red haired girl whose father owned the cabin.

  Alma staggered and Paul caught her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he steadied her.

  “How fucking crazy is this?” asked Stephen loudly as he knocked on the head of a mannequin that was sitting on the couch.

  Alma stared at the child sized mannequin. It was a boy, in a pair of overalls and a red shirt, with a pair of sneakers on that had been scuffed from playing in the dirt out back. There were two mannequins on the couch, one a boy and the other a girl.

  Alma recognized the clothes that the girl mannequin wore. It was the same outfit she’d worn sixteen years earlier.

  “This must’ve been what we saw at the school,” said Stephen. “There must be mannequins like this all over town.” He slapped the boy’s head and the yellow mannequin slouched to the side.

  “No,” said Alma. “Don’t hit it.”

  “Why?” asked Jacker as he set the gear he was carrying down. “What’s wrong? Do you know what this is all about?” There was an edge of fright to his tone, as if he was struggling to maintain composure in the bizarre setting.

  “That’s my brother.” She looked around at the familiar room. “Someone set up this place to look exactly like it did when I was here with my father. Those mannequins are dressed in the clothes that my brother and I were wearing.”

  “I think we should go,” said Aubrey. She had her arms crossed and was backing away, toward the front door. “This is fucked up.”

  “I agree,” said Rachel. “Stephen, we need to leave.”

  “I can’t believe you guys want to leave,” said Stephen. He was exasperated, but his anger was unmistakable. “We’ve stumbled into one of the biggest paranormal stories of all time, and you guys want to just take off? You’re insane.”

  “This reminds me of the towns they built while testing nuclear weapons,” said Paul.

  A yellow light pulsed outside.

  “Get down!” Stephen knelt low and moved toward the kitchen.

  The picture window’s curtains were pulled back, revealing the street outside as a security truck came near. The group moved into the kitchen, which was to the right of the entrance, and ducked beneath the counters. The rotating yellow light on top of the truck illuminated the cabin with ghastly shadows for a moment, and then faded away.

  Alma would’ve sworn the shadows cast by the mannequins were taller than they should’ve been. She was on her knees on the kitchen, exactly where the dog’s crate used to be. It was also where her mother had written the symbol for pi on the ground and then circled it with lit candles. This would be where Alma would try it again, but this time she wouldn’t be confused by the mathematic symbol. This time she would just write the numbers.

  314

  “Do you think they’re looking for us?” asked Jacker.

  “I don’t know,” said Paul. “But we’re sure the hell not going to be able to get the van and my bike in here.”

  “There were never this many security guards before,” said Aubrey. “When I used to sneak in here with my friends, there was never more than a few guards at the posts. Nothing like this.”

  “Did you ever come down here two days before March 14th?” asked Alma.

  Everyone turned their attention to Alma as Aubrey answered, “No.”

  “Do you think the date has something to do with this?” asked Rachel of Alma.

  Alma looked at all of their faces, stunned that they were surprised by this. “Of course it does. Don’t you guys get it?”

  “Get what?” asked Stephen.

  “They’re trying to recreate the event. Whatever happened on March 14th, 1996, they’re trying to make it happen again. Or at least they tried, at some point. It looks like it must’ve been years ago, maybe when Cada EIB first purchased the land. I don’t know how they got it so perfect,” said Alma as she stared at the back of the mannequins heads as they sat silent on the couch. “But if the mannequins were in the school, then I bet they’re set up like this in every house around here.”

  Rachel punched Stephen in the arm several times. The first seemed playful, but the next was with more force, and then by the third hit she started to slam both fists into him. “You dragged us into this, you bastard.”

  “Settle the fuck down, Rachel. Jesus Christ! Stop it.” He grabbed her wrists and she struggled to get free.

  “It’s not his fault,” said Alma. She looked around the cabin and felt a sudden chill. “Something wanted me back here. I think it’s been trying to pull me back here for years.”

  “Well, it doesn’t need me here,” said Aubrey. “Sorry guys, but I’m getting the fuck out of this creepy ass place.” She stood up and headed for the door. “Jacker, it was good meeting you. If you ever get out of this place alive, give me a ring.”

  Aubrey opened the door and they all heard a distant, booming voice. Aubrey stopped in the threshold and looked back at them. “Do you hear that?”

  The group went to the door. They were cautious to make sure no security trucks were nearby as they went outside. A grey wisp of cloud moved over the sun, and its shadow was cast over the cabin for a moment as the group listened to a man’s voice in the distance.

  “They must be playing some sort of message on a speaker or something,” said Paul.

  “Maybe on the security trucks,” said Stephen. He then hushed the others as the voice grew louder.

  “Come on,” said Rachel as she pulled at Stephen’s shirt. “Get back inside. The truck must be headed back this way if the sound is getting louder.” Everyone else ran back into the cabin, but Stephen was intent on hearing the message. Rachel continued to pull at him.

  “I can almost hear what they’re saying,” said Stephen. “Something about Hank? Hank Waxman, does that make any sense?” He relented and went back inside with Rachel. They closed the door and stayed low as a security truck rolled down the street, again illuminating the cabin with flashing yellow light.

  The message was muffled, but they could make out some of it as the truck went by. “…if you leave now, we can forget that you were ever here. Hank Waxman, we will contact the police if necessary…”

  “Well, at least they’re not looking for us,” said Stephen after the truck passed.

  “Yes they are,” said Jacker. “My real name’s Hank Waxman.”

  “Fuck me,” said Rachel. “They must’ve found the van. God damn it.” She stood up and starte
d to pace.

  “Calm down, babe,” said Stephen.

  “No, I won’t calm down. We’re fucked. We don’t have a choice. We have to go out there and hope they just give us a slap on the wrist and let us go. That’s the only option we’ve got now.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Jacker. “I can’t risk them calling the police.”

  “Look,” said Rachel as she tried to be reasonable. “We’re just going to have to take that chance. If they do end up calling the cops, then we’ll just get some minor trespassing charges. I know it sucks, but we don’t have any other choice here.”

  “No,” said Jacker. “You don’t get it. I can’t risk them calling the cops.”

  Rachel stopped pacing and stood stone still as she stared at the big man. “What are you saying?” She obviously already suspected Jacker’s secret.

  “I’m wanted for a few things back home.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Rachel. Her cheeks burned red as her anger swelled. “Do you see, Stephen? What did I say about background checks? God damn it. Fuck!” Her frustration boiled over and she balled up her fists, ready to hit something in anger.

  “What did you do?” asked Stephen. “Was it that bad?”

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” said Jacker.

  “Well, you’d better start fucking talking about it,” said Rachel. She emphasized her curses as an expression of her anger. “What did you do?”

  “I hit a guy,” said Jacker in a near whisper, as if he were shrinking away from the conversation. Even his posture slouched as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “You must’ve hit him pretty fucking hard,” said Rachel. “Am I right.”

  Jacker nodded.

  “Did you kill him?” she asked. “Are we traipsing around the country with a killer?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Jacker. “Last I heard he was in the hospital. He hadn’t woken up yet.”

  “Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” said Rachel.

  “Calm down.” Stephen walked into the center of the group and held his arms out between Rachel and Jacker. “Let’s just try and be rational for a God damn second. Okay? Running out there now and begging for forgiveness is a stupid plan, especially if we’re risking Jacker going to jail. Our best option is to just stay here and wait until after the 14th.”

  “What?” asked Aubrey. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “She’s right,” said Rachel. “That’s a stupid fucking plan, Stephen.”

  “Do you have a better one?” asked Stephen.

  Paul stepped in and put his hands on Stephen’s shoulders. The argument was getting out of hand, and Paul tried to calm everyone down. “Let’s be smart, guys. If we wait here until nighttime, we can try to sneak out after that. Then, if we come back tomorrow we can go try to get the van. If they already got to it, then we can say we never went into Widowsfield. The van wasn’t on their property, so they’ve got no right to keep it.”

  “What if they call the cops on me?” asked Jacker.

  “You don’t have to come with us. I can tell them that you let me borrow the van. Even if they call the cops, they can’t prove you were here.”

  The group was quiet as they considered Paul’s plan. Aubrey stood near the door, far from Jacker, and Stephen reached out to hold Rachel’s hand. The tension had calmed, and everyone seemed to agree that Paul’s plan was the best option they had. Still though, the fractures in their group weren’t mended, and everyone seemed ready to separate, even if it was just to opposite corners of the small cabin.

  Alma held Paul’s hands and stood on the tips of her toes to whisper to him. “I’m not leaving.”

  He was surprised, and scowled at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you, I need this.” She spoke in a whisper to avoid pulling anyone else into their conversation. “I want you all to leave, but I’m going to stay.”

  “I’m not leaving without you, Alma,” said Paul.

  “Yes you are.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re coming with me. I know you want to stay here, and I’ve tried to be supportive of this whole insane thing, but now it’s gone too far. I don’t know what’s going on in this place, or why they’ve set it up to mimic the past, but I do know that if you stay here, you’re going to get hurt. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “If I leave, I’m never going to know the truth.”

  “Alma, you’re being ridiculous. Listen to yourself. You don’t even know that this is going to work. Do you really think if you just stay here until the 14th that you’ll suddenly remember everything?”

  “This place is trying to put us in order,” said Alma. “It wants me to figure this out. I can feel it, Paul.” She looked down at the kitchen floor. “I just have to try and calm down, and focus on the number. Maybe if I do it on the 14th, and 3:14…”

  “Maybe what?” asked Paul.

  “Maybe that’s how I can complete the circle.”

  “Do you hear yourself?” asked Paul. “Do you hear how insane you sound?”

  “Look around, Paul,” she said. “We’re way past sanity.”

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 1996

  Raymond stood in front of his father to protect him from The Skeleton Man. The Salt and Pepper Diner had been enveloped in the fog, and a brick had been thrown through the front door, shattering the glass. The fog seeped in like water and swirled at Raymond’s feet.

  The tall, thin silhouette of the man with the chattering teeth appeared in the threshold of the diner. “Raymond,” said the demon. “I need your help.” His voice was a series of echoes in Raymond’s head, and though he spoke, the chattering never ceased.

  “I don’t want to hurt my Daddy anymore! I want you to leave us alone.” Raymond held two kitchen knives, one in each hand, and prepared to fight off the demon.

  “I don’t care what you want,” said The Skeleton Man. “This time I don’t want to play here. I need you to come with me.” He reached out his bloodied, skeletal hand through the fog.

  “Raymond,” said Desmond as he lay on the floor. The fog thickened around the man’s limbs and held him down. “Don’t go with that thing!”

  Raymond looked at his father, and then at Grace, who was behind the counter. The dogs were barking outside, and Raymond knew the mutated children would be here soon to murder whoever they could. This was a recurring nightmare that no one could wake up from.

  “Raymond,” said The Skeleton Man. “I want to take you to see your sister. I need your help hiding from her. I need time to find the one we lost.”

  “If I go, will this end?” Raymond’s voice trembled.

  “Let’s find out,” said The Skeleton Man.

  The children swarmed outside, waiting for The Skeleton Man’s permission to rush in and murder Raymond’s father and the waitress. They were already in the back of the restaurant, devouring the cook.

  “Don’t go,” said Desmond as the fog started to choke him.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” said Raymond. “I have to try and help us die for good.” He took The Skeleton Man’s hand and was pulled into the fog. The children rushed in, and Raymond heard his father screaming in pain as the creatures tore his flesh from his bones.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Murder and Children

  March 12th, 2012

  “Alma,” said Stephen from the stairs. He was ashen, and spoke quietly. The stairs in the cabin were beside the kitchen, and led to a hallway with three doors. There was a bathroom, a master bedroom, and a guest room on the second floor and Stephen had gone up to check out the rest of the house while the others waited downstairs.

  “What?” asked Alma.

  “I think you need to come up here.”

  Her stomach sank, an identical sensation to what she felt when coming over the hill and into the woods on the road before reaching Widowsfield. “Why? What did you find?”

  “Just come up.”

  She
didn’t want to. The thought of ascending the stairs terrified her. She remembered how her father would scream at her whenever she dared go upstairs. Alma looked at the couch where her mannequin was sitting and remembered sleeping there instead of in the spare room to avoid interrupting whatever her father was up to.

  “Want me to go check it out for you?” Paul offered to go up in place of Alma.

  “No,” said Alma. She took his hand. “Just come with me.”

  They followed Stephen upstairs, and Aubrey came after them. When Alma turned to look at her, Aubrey said, “Hey, I want to know what I’m in for by staying here. Whatever’s up there, I want to see it too.”

  “Me too,” said Rachel as she came up behind Aubrey.

  “Fuck that,” said Jacker from the kitchen. “You guys go ahead and check out whatever evil shit is up there. I’m staying right here. Fuck this place.”

  Stephen led them down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was closed and he paused in front of it, as if scared to open it. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

  “What?” asked Aubrey. “Open the door. What’s in there?”

  “Alma, was there anyone else here besides you, your father, and your brother when everything happened?” Stephen still gripped the door’s knob, but didn’t open it.

  “Yes,” said Alma. “There was a girl, named Terry. My dad was cheating on my mom with her. She’s the one that owned the cabin.”

  Rachel put her hand on Alma’s back and rubbed circles on her. “I’m sorry, Alma. I didn’t know that.”

  “Are there mannequins of them in there?” asked Alma. “Are they in bed together?”

  “Not exactly,” said Stephen. He looked at the others and then at Alma. “You might want to go in there alone.”

  “No, it’s okay,” said Alma. “No more secrets. I don’t care if everyone sees.”

  Stephen nodded and then opened the door. He stepped back to allow Alma to walk in first.

  She only saw the room a few times in her life, but the details were burned in her memory. This was where her father would disappear for days at a time with his girlfriend. They would appear occasionally, staggering down the stairs and to the kitchen for food, but most of their days were spent in this square prison. The chemical smell of their drugs would waft out from under the door, which was why Ben and Alma decided to sleep downstairs instead of in the spare bedroom. They would watch their movies, with the television turned up loud to drown out the sound of the bed creaking when their father was having sex.