314 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Read online

Ben saw Terry’s eye twitch. “Dad, I don’t think she’s dead.”

  His father scowled and slammed his palm on the side of the tub. “Don’t be an idiot. She’s dead, dead, dead, and you killed her. You stupid fuck, I’m trying to help you. You want to go to jail for the rest of your life?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then do exactly as I say and don’t contradict me again. Terry is dead. We have to figure out how to get rid of her body. Are you crying? Are you seriously crying?”

  Ben shook his head, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

  “You’re the one that did this. You’re the one that came into the bedroom when you weren’t supposed to. You’re the one that thought he was an adult. Well, this is what adults have to deal with. Okay? You need to act like an adult now.”

  “I don’t want to,” said Ben pathetically. “I want to go watch my movie with Alma. I don’t want to be an adult.”

  “Too late, Ben. It’s too late for that. Now go downstairs and see if the water is boiling. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ben ran out of the bathroom.

  His father yelled out to him, “Bring the water up once it starts to boil.”

  Ben ran to the kitchen and yelled at Alma to leave him alone as he cried. He got a pair of oven mitts and then stood by the stove, watching as the pots sat on the burners.

  “Ben, please tell me what’s going on up there.”

  Ben just shook his head and continued to cry. Killer spun in his cage and started to bark when a flash of green electricity illuminated the room.

  Alma stood beside her brother and waited for the water to boil. She didn’t say anything, but wanted to be supportive of her brother as he was obviously struggling with something terrible. Ben lifted the pot off the stove and walked past his sister. He was careful as he carried the pot up the stairs, but some of it still spilled over the edge.

  His father was in the bathroom, and had filled the bottom of the tub with some hot water from the tap. Terry was now laying at the bottom of the tub, her hair waving in the water and her bloodshot eyes staring straight up. Her mouth was open and the white foam still bubbled between her red, chapped lips.

  “Good job, kid. Set the pot on the toilet and get the bleach. That’s the white jug over there with the blue cap. Yeah, that’s the one. Go ahead and push down on the cap and turn it. There you go, you’re doing good. Now bring it over here and pour it in the tub. We’ll figure out how to do this. You and me, kid. We’ll figure it out. We’ll melt this bitch down to bones if we have to. Okay? Good, good. Just pour it in the water like that. You’re doing great. You’re a real adult now, a big boy. All adults have to do this kind of thing from time to time. There’s no need to cry, just keep pouring. Yeah, all of it. The whole thing.”

  The bleach stung Ben’s eyes and he had to turn away as his father continued to speak in a manic slur of words.

  “Go ahead and get the purple stuff. The bottle with the yellow cap. Twist it off the same way you did the bleach and then pour it in too. That’s a good boy. You’re a pro. You’re making me proud.”

  Ben’s father stepped back and stood in the corner of the room. He continued to bite his nails as he watched his son pour the chemicals into the tub.

  “Go ahead and pour all of the bottles in. Fuck it, just pour them all in there. One of them’s got to do the trick. Is that everything that you could find downstairs? Yeah? Okay, well I guess it’ll have to do. Pour the hot water in. Just do it. Don’t even think about it, just pour it in.”

  Ben held the pot and leaned over the clawed tub. The smell of the chemical soup was sickening, and his eyes stung from it. Every time he breathed, the air seared his nose. He tipped the large pot and the boiling water started to pour in.

  Terry screamed out as the water hit her skin. She wasn’t dead, and the searing water awoke her from unconsciousness. She reached out and grabbed Ben’s head in an attempt to find anything to hold onto. She pulled, and Ben felt his feet lift off the floor.

  His face splashed down into the boiling soup of chemicals.

  CHAPTER 21 - Alma’s Lost Truth

  March 14th, 1996

  Alma was still in the kitchen, watching the water boil, when she heard Terry scream. Then Ben started to wail even louder and Alma refused to stay downstairs any longer. She took a steak knife out of the butcher’s block on the counter and headed for the stairs.

  The green electricity outside crackled again and she thought she heard her name, but wasn’t sure who was speaking. When the light flashed, there was a tall shadow in the room with her, as if an adult were standing at her side. She spun and swiped through the air, but there was no one in the room with her other than the whimpering dog in the cage.

  Alma went to the stairs and paused, terrified. Ben was crying out in pain, and Alma knew her father was killing him. If she didn’t do something, her brother would die. She started to hum a tune, a trick her mother had taught her to help stay calm when bad things were happening. She took each step slowly and listened as Ben continued to cry out in pain.

  She heard her father speak, “Hold the towel over your face, Ben.”

  “It hurts!” Ben cried out.

  “Get back in the tub, bitch!” Her father hit something, and Alma heard water splash. Then she heard several wet thuds while Ben continued to cry, his voice now muffled by what Alma assumed was a towel.

  She held the knife out in front of herself, ready to kill Michael to save Ben. If her father was hurting him, Alma was prepared to stop him any way she had to. She had to protect him, because they only had each other to depend on.

  Alma walked down the hall and then pushed the door open. Ben was on the bed with a towel over his face, and Alma could see her father in the bathroom, hunched over the tub. Ben was shaking as he held the towel.

  “Ben?” asked Alma. “Are you okay?”

  Ben dropped the towel and his lip snagged on the fabric. When the towel fell, a portion of his lower lip went with it. His face was scarlet red, and his eyebrows were missing. Blisters had formed on his cheeks and his eyes were wide and unblinking. His teeth were chattering as if his body couldn’t stand the agony he was suffering. “Alma,” he said and pointed to the door. “Get out!”

  “Alma?” asked her father from the bathroom. He got up from the tub and walked back into the room. “What did I tell you about coming in here?”

  Alma looked at him and held the knife out, still prepared to protect Ben no matter what. She saw Terry rise up from the tub behind her father. The woman’s entire body was slathered in a putrid mess of blood and thick, syrupy liquid. Terry screamed in pain and pushed Alma’s father out of the way as she rushed for the door. Michael tried to grab the nude woman, but when he gripped her arm a strip of flesh peeled off her. Alma closed her eyes and held the knife out.

  Terry was blinded by the chemicals in the tub, and ran directly into Alma’s outstretched blade. The force of Terry’s lunge was enough to knock Alma back as the blade pressed into the nude woman’s abdomen. Terry fell down on Alma and the stench of the chemical soup stole the young girl’s breath away.

  Terry was slick with the chemical sludge, and when Alma tried to push the woman away her hands slid through the muck. Terry sputtered and finally rolled off Alma as she clutched the blade in her stomach. She tried to get away, but Alma’s father was already over her. He pulled the blade free, which caused Terry’s body to lurch up before falling back down again.

  “Die, you stupid bitch!” Alma’s father stabbed the woman over and over just within the threshold of the room. He wouldn’t stop, and soon his fist was plunging into a large cavity in the woman’s stomach.

  When his madness subsided, Alma’s father stood up, his hands dripping with blood and chunks of flesh, and panted as he stared down at his daughter. “What did I tell you about staying out of my room?”

  There was a sucking noise from the hall. It sounded as if all the air in the cabin was being pulled away, then a boom shook the building as electric ligh
t flashed all around them. The fog swept in and enveloped them as shadows ran past. The creatures in the mist danced and spun, holding each other’s hands as they went. The shadows were hunched over and sometimes howled as if canine. From within the mass of creatures came a tall figure, and Alma thought she saw the shadow of horns on the top of his head, but then realized that part of the man was connected to the walls by what looked like long strands of wire. He held his hand out to Ben, and Alma heard him whispering. The shadow then glanced at Alma, but ignored her as he led Ben away.

  “I love you, Alma,” said Ben. “I’ll never stop loving you.”

  Paul was there in the fog, and he saw everything that Alma and Ben had endured. The Skeleton Man had revealed himself, and was whispering to Paul as the creatures danced around them.

  “I met the Devil, and he ended my pain,” said The Skeleton Man. “He gave me a chance to save Alma.”

  “How?” asked Paul. He couldn’t see Ben, but could hear the man’s chattering teeth.

  “You should know that right now Alma is dying.”

  “What happened? Did someone shoot her?”

  “The men that stayed in Widowsfield are murdering you both. Look at your chest.”

  Paul glanced down and saw three bullet holes, each oozing blood, in his chest. He put his finger in one and then glanced up at where he thought Ben’s voice emanated from. “Why?”

  “They went up the stairs,” said Ben. “They opened a door that should’ve stayed shut, and now we’re all paying the price. You had to be silenced, but they don’t know the truth about our little town. Widowsfield will never be quiet. It’s still alive, trapped in a place between Hell and Earth. But we can make it better, Paul. We can save Alma.”

  “How?” asked Paul. He looked down at Alma as she lay face up on the floor, partially covering the bloody numbers she’d scrawled on the tile. When he first looked down at her there was no blood on her chest, but then it suddenly began to pour out from under her until a pool formed and hid the rest of the number she was laying over. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “The same that I did,” said The Skeleton Man. “Sacrifice yourself to keep the truth hidden. Alma can’t handle what she saw. No one could. She’s fragile. She’ll break if she remembers. You have to let her go.”

  “Okay, fine,” said Paul. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  He looked over at Stephen and Rachel’s corpses, and saw that their wounds had disappeared. They looked like they were asleep, but then blood began to pool beneath them as well before the fog covered them, shielding Paul’s friends from his view.

  “Pay attention to what I say,” said The Skeleton Man.

  Paul’s chest ached, and he glanced back down at the wound on his chest. The Skeleton Man’s hand was pressed over his gun shots, and blood seeped out between his skeletal fingers.

  “I just want to save Alma,” said Paul. “I’ll do whatever I have to for her.”

  “Will you?” asked Ben. “Do you love her as much as I did? Would you do anything to protect her?”

  “I’ll die for her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Ben laughed. “You’re already dead, Paul. I’m asking for more than that.”

  “Then get to the point,” said Paul as his patience waned. “What do I have to do?”

  “You have to let her forget you.” There was malice in Ben’s voice when he explained the proposition. “Stay here with me, and let Alma go. She’ll forget you ever lived, and that she ever loved you. She’ll never know of your sacrifice, and will never lament your loss. That’s the deal I was given, and I can offer you the same. Alma will never remember you, but she’ll be safe. If you really love her, if you really want to protect her, then you’ll do the same thing that I did.”

  “There’s got to be another way,” said Paul.

  “There is,” said Ben. “You’re stuck here now, and if you want you can try and find a way out of Widowsfield. No one ever has, but you’re welcome to try. If you refuse my offer, then you’ll wake up in Widowsfield, moments before the event occurred that opened the doorway. Alma will be with you, but she’ll remember what happened here when she was a child. All of her memories will come flooding back, just like they did of me the last time she was here. She’ll remember what happened in that bedroom when her knife plunged into the whore’s stomach. I don’t think anyone could be expected to handle that realization, but it gets worse.”

  “What?” asked Paul. The demon seemed to be enjoying this more than a loving brother should. The Skeleton Man was a twisted creature, and Paul assumed there were more spirits than just Ben’s that made up this demon.

  “She used the number to remember, just before she was shot dead in the kitchen. She knows what happened, and she’ll be forced to remember over and over again. Widowsfield lives perpetually within only a few minutes of time. The short window of time that the door was open now plays itself over and over again, and the tortured souls in the town are forced to live that moment for eternity. Now Alma and your friends will join us, and every time the moment starts again, they’ll be flooded by the agonizing memory of what happened here.”

  The Skeleton Man materialized in the mist. He was tall, and his face was a mask of stripped flesh that covered a skull. He had eyeballs that were placed within a skull’s sockets and his teeth chattered as he spoke, as if his voice wasn’t emitted from his mouth, but telepathically. There was black wire sewed through the strips of skin on his face, and they bored through his jaw to tie his face together. It appeared as if the creature had tried to use the wire to stop his chattering teeth, but it hadn’t worked.

  “Make your choice,” said The Skeleton Man as he held out his hand to Paul. “Join me, and let them forget you. Or torture her for eternity with the memory of what happened here.”

  Paul was given insight into what The Skeleton Man knew. There was too much to understand in such a short moment, but Paul knew that the boy had allowed his final few minutes to dictate what hell he wrought on the residents of Widowsfield that were trapped in the mist with him. Ben was a malevolent force whose pain and suffering in his last moments of life defined the existence of every soul left trapped in Widowsfield. He was their Devil, a mere child who learned of hatred and pain at the very moment that a doorway was unlocked.

  Paul had no way of knowing if what the demon said was true, or if this was all a lie. But as he looked down at Alma, he had no other choice than to try and protect her. He would do anything for her, even if it meant saying goodbye to her forever.

  A tear fell down his cheek as he focused on Alma’s face. The Skeleton Man’s teeth chattered incessantly beside his ear.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Paul.

  “I’m the only one that can protect her, Paul,” said The Skeleton Man. “She has to see that if we’re going to get out alive.”

  “Why is this happening?”

  “Evil has a home,” said The Skeleton Man. “Its name is Widowsfield. Now make your choice.”

  * * *

  Jacker was driving the van as they left Widowsfield.

  Stephen was in the passenger seat and was toying with his camera. Rachel, Alma, and Aubrey were in the back, crunched together on the middle seat. The entire rear seat of the van was loaded with Stephen’s equipment, which required the girls to all sit together, uncomfortably bunched up against one another.

  “I can’t wait to get home,” said Rachel. “I’m going to sleep for, like, twelve hours straight.”

  Alma had her hands in her coat pocket and was rubbing her thumb against a small piece of soft fabric on her keychain. The sensation soothed her.

  “I know the feeling,” said Aubrey. “I am zonked.”

  Alma stared out the front window as they drove away. It was foggy out, and it looked like it was going to rain.

  “Whoa,” said Jacker as he pulled the van over to the side of the road. A car had pulled up behind them and then swerved into the other lane to pass them before jerking b
ack over to their side of the two lane road. It sped ahead of them and disappeared into the fog. “What an asshole. I wonder where he was off to in such a hurry.”

  Alma stopped rubbing the fabric on her keys and pulled them out. She stared at the miniature teddy bear.

  “I don’t know,” said Stephen. “And I don’t care. I just want to go home.”

  “Same here,” said Rachel. “I don’t ever want to go back to that place.”

  “Widowsfield,” said Alma as she stared at the teddy bear. She loved the bauble, and knew that it could soothe her when she was frightened. It was a source of happiness for her.

  “Don’t even say the name,” said Aubrey. “I don’t ever want to remember that place.”

  “Jacker,” said Alma.

  “What is it, beautiful?” asked Jacker as he started to pull the van back onto the road.

  “Wait,” said Alma.

  Jacker and Stephen turned to look at her.

  She stayed silent for a moment as she continued to stare at the teddy bear keychain. She couldn’t remember where she got it.

  “Guys,” said Alma. “It’s happening again.”

  “What is?” asked Aubrey

  “Widowsfield. 314. It’s the same as before. Do you remember going into town?” she asked. “We came all the way here, but I don’t remember anything about the town. Do you?”

  They all looked at each other, and finally Rachel spoke up. “I’m officially creeped out you guys. Alma’s right. I can’t remember anything.”

  “Neither can I,” said Stephen. “Did we get footage for the show?”

  Jacker pulled a purple coin out of his pocket and stared at it as the others spoke.

  “We’re going through the same thing that I did,” said Alma. “Somehow or another we got tricked. The town turned us around. It stole something from us.”

  “Jacker,” said Stephen. “Turn the van around. We’re going back.”

  “What about the fence?” asked Aubrey.

  Jacker turned the wheel and hit the gas. Gravel spit up behind them as they headed back to town. “Fuck the fence,” he said as he sped up. “If there’re no guards then I’ll plow right through it.”