314 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Page 24

  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 was 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. The creatures 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. It’s the only way out.” He took The Skeleton Man’s hand and was pulled into the fog. The demonic children rushed into the restaurant, and Raymond heard his father screaming in pain as the creatures tore his flesh from his bones. He hoped it would be the last time he had to hear it happen.

  CHAPTER 18 - 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 on the second floor 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. The idea of Paul going up alone terrified 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.

  “Screw 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 the chance to walk in first.

  She’d only seen 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 one of the reasons 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 enough to drown out the sound of the bed creaking when their father and Terry were having sex.

  The room was the same as it had been, with a disheveled queen bed in the center, the covers bunched up in the center. There was a dresser with a clock on it, and the time was stuck at 3:14 even though it was much later in the day. The sink was dripping in the attached bathroom.

  There were two mannequins on the floor. One was hunched over the other, with his hands pressed inside the woman’s chest. The mannequin on the floor was battered, bent at odd angles, and painted red. Its chest was cracked open and the male mannequin was reaching inside as if trying to pull the woman’s heart out. His arms and chest were splotched with red paint.

  “I need to get my camera,” said Stephen as he went back down the stairs.

  Alma felt dizzy as she stared at the depiction of murder, or cannibalism. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then the chemical smell of her father’s drugs stung her nose, a ghost of a scent that seeped in through her frozen memories. She swatted at her nose and fell backward into Paul’s arms. He held her and tried to pull her back, out of the room, as she flailed at the air.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul was frantic. “What’s going on?”

  “Get me out!” said Alma finally. “Get me away from here.”

  “Move!” Paul commanded the others to step aside as he carried Alma to the stairs. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Wait,” said Stephen as he held his camera at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t leave yet. We need to wait until dark.”

  “No,” said Paul. “Screw it. I’m taking Alma home now.”

  “Wait,” said Stephen as he stood in Paul’s way.

  Paul shoved his shoulder into Stephen. The cameraman fell backward and stumbled over the bottom step of the stairs. He fell and dropped his camera, which hit the floor hard. The viewfinder screen snapped off and skittered across the living room.

  “You ass!” Stephen got back to his feet and was ready to charge at Paul.

  “Stop it!” Rachel grabbed her husband and tried to pull him back.

  Paul set Alma down and turned to face Stephen. “Come on then, little man. Let’s do this.”

  Alma stepped between the two of them. “Stop it, both of you! I’m okay now. I’m fine. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Yes you do, Alma,” said Paul. “Whatever happened up there scared the shit out of you.”

  “I know, but I’m okay now. I’m fine as long as I’m down here.”

  “What about my camera?” asked Stephen, still incensed.

  “You should know better than to get in my way,” said Paul as he cracked his knuckles, still ready for a fight.

  “Both of you stop it,” said Alma. “We all need to settle do
wn.”

  “Hate to interrupt,” said Aubrey from the top of the stairs, “but did you guys look in the bathroom up here? The tub’s painted red, like it was filled with blood.”

  “This place just keeps getting better and better,” said Rachel. “Do you think they’re turning this place into an amusement park? They could call it Fucked-Up-Disneyland and sell group rates.” Her joke lightened the mood and she smiled as she went to pick up the pieces of Stephen’s camera. “It’s like Jurassic Park for ghosts.”

  Stephen took the camera pieces from his wife and groaned as he looked at them. “I can probably fix it.”

  “Sorry, man,” said Paul. “This place just sets me on edge.”

  “The cabin is affecting us. I think we all just need to calm down,” said Alma. “Maybe try to get some sleep. If you guys are going to try and sneak out of here in the middle of the night, maybe you should get some sleep first.”

  “I’m not going if you’re not,” said Paul.

  “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” said Stephen.

  “Well,” said Aubrey as she came down the stairs, “sorry to bust up the party, but I’m out of here as soon as the sun sets. Fuck this place.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Jacker. “Then I can go get my van.”

  “You can’t do that,” said Paul. “Even if you make it out, what if they’re watching the van? You’ll get busted.”

  “That’s the point,” said Jacker. “I need to step up and face the music. I screwed up, and I can’t run from it forever. You guys don’t need to get dragged down with me. I’ll go out there, get the van, and tell the security that I was the only one here. If they call the police, then I’ll be the only one they charge with anything.”

  “I know a different way out,” said Aubrey. “On the south side of town, near the school, there’s a drainage pipe. I’m going through there. I’m not going back to the van to get caught. Stephen, if you think I owe you your money back, well whatever.” She reached into her pocket to retrieve the money Stephen had given her.

  “You paid her already?” asked Rachel.

  Stephen was quick to stop Aubrey. “Don’t worry about it. You got us here, so you earned the money.” Then he glanced over at Jacker before looking back at Aubrey and adding, “Pretty much.”

  Aubrey looked at Jacker, and then at Stephen before saying, “Cool.”

  “I’ll take you to the drain pipe,” said Jacker. “And make sure you get out safe. Then I’ll go get my van and take the heat off you guys.”

  “Wow, man,” said Stephen. “Thanks.”

  “Come upstairs with me,” said Aubrey. “Let’s try to get some sleep in the spare bedroom before we head out.”

  The blonde bartender went back up the stairs as Jacker followed. He looked at Paul with a wide smile and a wink. Stephen patted Jacker on the back as he passed and said, “Go get her, big guy.”

  “I still owe you for this, buddy,” said Jacker to Stephen.

  “Not anymore,” said Stephen. “If you’re taking the fall for us, then we’ll call it even.”

  Alma watched Jacker go up the stairs to sleep with Aubrey and she felt a sense of dread at the sight. A memory of her childhood was screaming in hateful terror. How many times had she watched her father ascend those stairs, ready to cheat on Alma’s mother? How many times had he forced Alma to promise never to talk about what happened in Widowsfield?

  “I’ll kill you and your brother if you ever say anything, Alma,” he used to tell her. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you both.”

  “Are they seriously going to go up there and screw?” asked Rachel. “In the middle of all this shit, they’re going to have sex up there? Are they insane?”

  Alma looked at the stairs as the hallway light shone down. “It’s not their fault. This place is trying to manipulate us. It’s putting emotions in us that were here sixteen years ago. It’s trying to complete the circle.”

  Stephen focused on fixing his camera and ignored the debate.

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 1996

  “What did you see?” asked The Skeleton Man. He was hiding across the street, in front of a house where a little boy had just found his mother’s body fused to the floor under his bed. The child’s screams of terror were hard to ignore as Raymond stood in the yard.

  Fog swirled around the demon, and the creature hid within it, staying a blur and lurking far enough behind the veil to shroud his features. His chattering teeth never ceased.

  “I saw a little girl and boy,” said Raymond. “I met them once before. Their father is one of my sister’s friends. The boy was going up the stairs.”

  “No, no,” said The Skeleton Man. “You’re looking at the wrong moment. You have to look past that.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Raymond. “You asked me to look in there, and I did.”

  “Go back, look again,” The Skeleton Man growled. “But this time forget what’s always been there. Look at what’s new.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Raymond.

  The demon’s rage was revealed by the crackling electricity in the fog around him. The green light snapped at the tree in the front yard, which caused the bark to sizzle. Usually the electricity only touched inanimate objects, and it seemed to have a violent reaction to striking something natural. “Fine. Come with me then. Just keep an eye out for your sister. I can’t be near her. You have to keep her away. Do hear me? Keep her away.”

  They went back to the cabin, and the fog pressed up against the window. Raymond tried to peer in, but the electricity crackled around him and he flinched in fear of it.

  “She’s here,” said The Skeleton Man. “I can feel her, but I can’t find her. There’re too many others. Who did she bring?”

  Raymond looked in through the window again, but all he could see was a little girl crying in the kitchen. The boy was talking to her from the stairs as he carried a pot up with him.

  “He’s not here,” said The Skeleton Man.

  “Who?” asked Raymond.

  “The one that burned us. The one your sister is waiting for.”

  Dogs ran through the fog behind them, growling and snapping their jaws as they fought with one another. Raymond was frightened of them, but knew he was safe as long as he was with The Skeleton Man. He wondered what was happening to the other children now that The Skeleton Man was fixated on the cabin. Surely they must be dead already.

  He took The Skeleton Man’s hand and felt the wetness of the demon’s flesh sliding off the bone.

  “I need to know them all,” said The Skeleton Man. “I need to see if she’s replaced me.”

  CHAPTER 19 - Brother’s Parting

  March 12th, 2012

  Jacker was in an alley, though he didn’t know how he’d arrived there. His skin was itching, as if bugs were crawling on it, and he scratched at his arms as he walked. There was a man beside a dumpster, smoking a cigarette. He was a young man, thin and fit, with shoulder length blonde hair. Jacker knew who he was.

  “Kyle,” said Jacker as he approached. “Kyle Beckner?”

  “That’s me,” said the kid as he flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. He was wearing an apron with the logo of the grocery store on it. “What can I do for you?”

  “You’re the one that Debbie’s been fucking,” said Jacker.

  The kid stiffened, fearful, and started to reach for the back door of the grocery store. Jacker slammed his hand against the door to keep it shut. “She’s my girlfriend, you asshole.”

  “Look man,” said the kid as he stepped back, “I didn’t know she was with anyone.”

  “Bullshit,” said Jacker. “I met you at the Christmas Party.”

  “Back off, pal. Maybe if you could keep her happy, she wouldn’t go looking for stray.” He flicked his cigarette at Jacker and it bounced off the big man’s jacket.

  Kyle’s bravado was reliant on Jacker backing off. There was no question who would win this fight, but the kid assumed Jacker w
as too scared to do anything. He was wrong.

  Jacker pushed Kyle off the stoop, and the kid fell into a pile of trash in the alley. He scrambled to stand up and threw a bottle at Jacker as he did. The bottle hit Jacker in the shoulder, but didn’t faze him.

  “You want to fight?” asked the kid as he started to hop around with his fists up. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Big mistake.” Jacker advanced, and Kyle threw a couple punches that connected, but delivered no sting. Jacker was too large, and too high, to feel any pain that this puny man could inflict.

  Jacker grabbed the side of Kyle’s head and slammed it into the brick wall on the other side of the alley. Kyle fell, dazed, as blood broke free from the side of his head, like oil seeping from dry earth. Jacker stared down at the beaten boy, and should’ve walked away.

  “How’d that feel?” asked Jacker.

  Kyle couldn’t answer. He was on his knees, wavering as if drunk, and staring up as the blood gushed down his left cheek. The gash on his brow was already swelling, and it looked like a golf ball was trying to burst through the boy’s skull.

  The fight was over, and Jacker knew he should’ve walked away, but then he made the worst mistake of his life: He imagined this blonde haired teenager having sex with Debbie.

  Jacker lifted Kyle up by the throat, and then slammed the boy’s head against the wall again. More blood gushed forth, and Kyle’s lip split open. Jacker hit the boy’s head against the wall again, and again. This was the part where the boy’s eyes were supposed to roll back in his head. He was supposed to start gagging on blood, and Jacker was supposed to drop him and run. That’s the way this was supposed to happen, but everything had changed now. This wasn’t a memory, but a nightmare.