314 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Page 28

  “There’s no fence,” said Stephen. “Look, there’s a sign right there.”

  There was a large, bright billboard on the side of the road that exclaimed, “Welcome to Widowsfield.”

  Jacker drove the van into town and turned left on Main Street. They pulled up to a stop light and looked around. The town wasn’t abandoned like they’d been told it was. There were people on the sidewalk, cars on the road, and even a UPS truck parked in front of the Anderson Used Book Store.

  “This isn’t right,” said Aubrey. “I’ve been here a ton of times. All of these buildings were boarded up before. I’m serious. None of this should be here.” She watched a man with long hair walking on the sidewalk. He had a walkman clipped to his belt and was in the process of changing CDs.

  “Look at the clock on the bank over there,” said Jacker as he pointed at the credit union that shared a parking lot with the Widowsfield Emergency Services building.

  3:13

  “Guys,” said Stephen. He looked ashen as he stared at the UPS truck outside of the book store. “This is Widowsfield, in 1996.”

  Alma saw the bank’s clock change time.

  3:14

  AFTERWORD

  Michael Harper followed the fence that surrounded Widowsfield until he found a sewer drain on the south side. He cursed under his breath as he got on his hands and knees to crawl through the slime. The pipe stank of mold and he held his breath as he made his way through. Once on the other side he climbed up a slight incline and found himself in a field with the middle school within sight.

  He checked his pistol to make sure there was a bullet in the chamber. If his daughter and the reporter thought they were going to reveal what happened in Widowsfield, they’d have to go through him to do it.

  It was one day until March 14th, and Michael knew just where his daughter would be staying. “Time to join your brother, Alma.”

  He would finish what he should’ve done sixteen years ago. Alma Harper had to die.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  And now you’ve officially been cursed! If you’re anything like me, you’ll start to see the number 314 everywhere.

  The curse of 314 was something that started with one of my friends in high school. We worked at a fast food restaurant, and after tax several of the meals we served cost $3.14. All day long my friend would have to say to people, “That’ll be $3.14.” We all hated our job, and this monotonous repetition of a price started to haunt us. Before we knew it, the number 314 started to show up everywhere in our lives. It appears with such frequency that it has become a 20 year long joke between all of us.

  That’s the origin of the number, and how it became a theme for this book. However, there’s a lot more to it than that. In this book, the characters just barely made a dent in the mystery that surrounds Widowsfield and what it was that caused the town to descend into such chaos. This book was focused on Ben and Alma, and what happened to them at the cabin at the exact moment that the 314 curse began. Ben was forced to stay, while Alma was saved. Ben’s spirit was haunted by what he’d experienced, and the creatures in the mist used him to craft all of the horrors that were unleashed upon the populace time and time again afterward.

  In the next book, the role of Cada E.I.B. will be revealed. Were they the ones that “opened the door” and caused the event to take place? Why did they purchase the land and then try to rebuild Widowsfield with mannequins? Those questions will be answered in the next book.

  In each of my books I try to challenge myself to do something different. In 314, I played with the book’s structure in an attempt to mimic the idea of the town being stuck in a constant recurring nightmare. There’s a lot of talk of circles, or coils, in this book. The structure of the book itself is a sort of recurring spiral. It is split into three parts. In the first part, each chapter begins in 1996, and then switches to 2012. In part two, all of the chapters take place in 2012. In part three, each chapter begins in 2012, and then switches to 1996, opposite of what it was in the first part. I wanted to play with this idea of switching time frames in an attempt to make the reader feel like they were going in circles, as well as to push the idea that all of these events were happening simultaneously. I thought it was an interesting way to make the story-telling mirror the story itself.

  I hope you enjoyed this book, and I also hope you’ve had a chance to read my other series, Deadlocked (the first one’s free!) I love to discuss my books with readers and welcome you to join in the conversation. You can find me at arwisebooks.com, as well as on the AR Wise Fan Page on Facebook. I would definitely suggest liking the fan page, because I give away quite a few things to people there. Currently I am offering free signed covers of my books! Go ‘Like’ the page so you can find out how to get one! I can also be reached by email at aaron@arwisebooks.com.

  Finally, if you enjoyed 314, please consider leaving a review on whichever site you downloaded it from. Customer reviews are incredibly important to independent writers like myself.

  314 Book 2 Sneak Peak

  Chapter 1 - Dead Again

  Imagine waking up in the middle of a maze. The walls are too high to climb and the floor is too tough to dig through. You have no idea how you got there, or which way is out. No one answers when you scream, and you’re burdened by a sense of impending loss. You don’t know what it is that you’re afraid of losing, but the feeling is inescapable.

  Of course, the thing you’re losing is your sanity, which becomes more evident as you claw at the walls. Madness lingers in these long halls, and it’s only a matter of time before they close in on you.

  Now, do your best to imagine that the walls are made of memories. It’s a maddening thing to consider, but that’s the point. You’re probably visualizing the walls as television screens, displaying your past, but that’s wrong. There are no walls. Instead, you’re walking consciously through a moment in time that has already passed, but is slightly different than it should be. You try to walk in the same direction that you did when the moment truly occurred, a slave to a recording, but it’s impossible to recreate every step. These little deviations, whether it be turning left instead of right, or saying yes instead of no, are all that’s needed to start you in the wrong direction. Then, before you know it, you become lost in your own mind.

  The walls of your maze are made of your own past, but they’re tricking you. As your sanity fades, so too does your realization that the walls are false. These aren’t your memories, but that’s not the sort of thing a rational mind could ever hope to understand. Memories belong to us. They’re the only things we ever uniquely own. Thoughts and memories are what sanity clings to.

  To get out, you have to be just a bit mad; you have to accept the maze. The only way to find the exit is to understand the walls, but once you do, you’ve already lost.

  The Watcher in the Walls has won.

  Lost in Widowsfield

  Alma Harper couldn’t speak.

  She was in Jacker’s van, seated between Aubrey and Rachel, terrified as the others stared in shock out the windows. It was a sunny, spring day in Widowsfield, and the people of the town were going about their business as if nothing was wrong. A UPS truck was parked outside of the corner book shop, and the driver was loading boxes onto a dolly at the rear. There was a long haired man switching discs on his Walkman as he passed the truck, and smiled at the driver as he went. Beside that building was a restaurant, called the Salt and Pepper Diner, and Alma could see a chubby man sitting in one of the booths beside the window with a young boy across from him. The child was staring at their van as they passed.

  “What’s going on?” asked Rachel.

  “We’re in 1996,” said Stephen as he nervously pivoted in his seat. He looked back at them, and then out his window. “Look at the truck.”

  “What truck?” asked Rachel.

  “The UPS one,” said Stephen. “Remember how I told you a UPS driver disappeared at the same time as everyone else? And loo
k at that car parked over there.” He pointed at a green Ford truck parked on the side of the street, in front of the UPS truck. “See the license plate tag?”

  In the center of the plate, between the numbers, was a green tag that had the numbers 96 on it. Jacker put the van in park, even though the light had turned green. “Holy shit,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. “Holy shit, holy shit…”

  “This can’t be,” said Aubrey. She had her hands on the back of Jacker’s headrest and stood, though she had to hunch over as she did. “You guys are pulling some sort of prank on me. Right?”

  The car behind them honked, frustrated that the van was still stopped at the light. Jacker put the van back in drive and yelled, “This is no prank!” He turned into the parking lot of the credit union that was beside the Widowsfield Emergency Services Center. The bank’s sign displayed the time, 3:14, and the green light flooded the van as they passed it.

  “This place has been deserted for years,” said Aubrey, her tone nearing panic. “This is insane.”

  “Hold up,” said Jacker as he parked at the entrance of the Emergency Services building. He rolled down the window and leaned out to speak with a woman standing near the glass door of the center. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  “Yes?” asked the woman after she took the last drag of her cigarette.

  “This is a weird question,” said Jacker. “But could you tell me what year it is?”

  “Seriously?” asked the woman with a scowl. She dropped her cigarette to the pavement and stamped it out. Alma noticed that there was an ashtray several feet from the woman, apparently pushed away from the entrance to keep people from smoking near the door.

  “I know it’s a weird question,” said Jacker.

  “It sure is, pal.” The woman stayed near the door, annoyed, puzzled, and slightly fretful of the big man in the van who was asking such an odd question.

  Alma heard dogs barking and the noise caused her heart to beat faster. The sound was familiar, distinctive, yet she couldn’t fathom why she felt that way.

  “Please?” asked Jacker. “Just tell me what year it is.”

  “Or who the president is,” shouted Stephen from the passenger seat.

  “Get a life, weirdos,” said the woman as she opened the door to the building to go back inside.

  “Smooth,” said Rachel. “Maybe she’ll call the cops on us and we can ask them what year it is. I’m sure they’ll be willing to listen to our story of how we time travelled here. Maybe they’ll ask about the flux capacitor you installed in the van.”

  “Just park in one of the spots,” said Aubrey. “Let’s get out and see if we can find a newspaper or something.”

  Jacker pulled the van into a parking spot as Stephen took out his cell phone. “Nothing,” said Stephen as he showed the others his phone. “There’s nothing on it. The damn thing won’t work.”

  “Is it dead?” asked Rachel as she got her own phone.

  “Yeah,” said Stephen. “It won’t turn on.”

  “Mine won’t either,” said Rachel. “What about the rest of you? Does anyone’s phone work?”

  Alma was going to look for her phone when a thunderous noise shook the van. Rachel and Aubrey screamed as Jacker cursed, but Alma covered her ears. While everyone else was shocked by the sound, she somehow knew it was coming. It would precede the fog.

  “What was that?” asked Stephen.

  A shadow blocked out the sun for a moment, as if a plane had flown low overhead. Then the dogs started barking again, this time closer.

  “He’s here,” said Alma. “We have to run.”

  “Who’s here?” asked Rachel.

  “The one that controls the fog,” said Alma, near tears.

  “What fog?” asked Stephen.

  “This fog?” asked Jacker as he pointed out the window.

  Thick mist was rolling down the street, sweeping across the pavement as if made of liquid. Every shape caught within it seemed to disappear nearly completely, as if the fog was erasing everything in its path. Green electricity snapped within the cloud, carried across the features of the shapes that the fog had swallowed. Then they saw the silhouettes of creatures moving within the mist, short but fast, with canine heads. The top of the fog was draped with what looked like strands of black wire that twisted in and out of each other.

  “Get us the fuck out of here!” Aubrey grabbed Jacker’s shoulders and shook the big man.

  “Yeah, yeah, okay,” said Jacker as he put the van in reverse.

  “No,” said Alma. “We have to run! Just get out and run.” She climbed over Rachel’s lap and grasped the handle of the sliding door.

  “What are you doing?” asked Rachel, unsure if she should restrain Alma or let her open the door.

  “We had to run!” Alma was past desperation as she yanked at the handle.

  “Had to?” asked Rachel.

  “He’s coming!” Alma was frantic as she pulled up the lock on the door so that she could open it. Jacker had already put the van in reverse and was screaming back at Alma to shut the door. His window was open and she could see the fog advancing when she looked back at him. It was sliding over the cars in the lot, the green electricity furiously zapping along the metal as it came closer to them.

  “Close the door,” said Jacker.

  Alma paused and looked at him, dread and sorrow filling her as she saw the fog flow up to the side of the van. “Goodbye, Jacker,” she said as the fog seeped in.

  It came through his open window, tendrils creeping in like sentient roots digging for sustenance. They swarmed over him, wrapping coils around his neck and arms. He tried to scream, but the fog constricted until his voice was choked away from him. He struggled, but the force that collected him was too strong. It swept over his skin as the dogs barked outside, almost seeming to laugh at his pain.

  Stephen, Rachel, and Aubrey screamed in terror as they watched the fog consume Jacker, but Alma looked away. She knew what it looked like to see a man’s skin peeled off. Somehow, this all felt too familiar.

  The mutated dogs swarmed the van, their ravaged hands scraping along the side. What had once been children had become a twisted mix of human and beast, nude and bearing large gashes across their pale skin. The children’s hands had become shattered mounds of flesh and bone, as if they had been thrust into a grinder and smashed until useless. Their heads were not human, but canine, hairless and with wholly black eyes. Their teeth were too large for their mouths, sometimes tearing through the flesh of their own lips, seeming to grow larger as the creatures wailed.

  Alma saw the fog seep out from under the van and had to leap a foot away to avoid it. Then she turned and yelled at the others to get out. The town had erupted into chaos as the fog descended, bringing the mutated children with it. One of the creatures appeared at the rear of their vehicle, its eyes locked on Alma, and it started to howl. Others had crawled over the hood, scrambling to climb using their shattered hands, hooking bits of twisted bone into the crevasses of the hood to pull themselves up. They all stared at Alma, intent as they swarmed, and each of them howled after a moment of watching her.

  “Jacker!” Aubrey was screaming their dead friend’s name.

  Alma didn’t need to look to know what was happening. The fog had dragged Jacker’s head out of the window and the hideous monstrosities that swarmed the van were tearing his face apart as he squirmed in his seat. They didn’t eat him, but clawed at his skin with their shattered hands while biting at his eyes. He couldn’t scream, because the fog was choking him, but he could gyrate in his seat, fully conscious through the entire ordeal. That would happen until the fog decided to end his life. It would start by hooking into his skin, and then it would peel him apart, stripping his flesh away like the top layer of an onion.

  “Get out!” Alma backed away, and then felt someone grab her shoulders. She turned and saw the woman that had been smoking outside moments earlier.

  “Get inside!” The woman pulled Alma toward
the door of the building as the fog swept over the van.

  “My friends!” Alma cried out as the woman grasped her.

  Rachel took Aubrey’s hand and yanked the girl out of the van to follow Alma. The fog reached out from under the vehicle in an attempt to catch them, but they were able to avoid it and make it to the door.

  “Stephen!” Rachel yelled out to her husband who was still in the van trying to help Jacker. “Come on!”

  His side of the van was already in the mist, and he had to crawl over the center console into the back seat. His face was splattered with blood, and he was terrified as he stumbled to get out the same door that the girls had exited. His foot fell into the fog below, and it swirled up his leg. “It’s got me!”

  “Stephen!” Rachel tried to run out to help, but Aubrey held her back.

  The howling pack of demonic children cried out with nearly human voices. Their guttural noises sounded like laughter as they crept toward Stephen, but their attention was still on Alma.

  “Leave him alone!” Rachel reached out to her husband as Alma and Aubrey restrained her.

  Stephen struggled to free himself from the fog, but it inched up his body, toying with him as it constricted tighter each second. “Go, Rachel! Just go!”

  “No.” She was trembling and crying as she yelled out to him.

  Alma was desperate to get into the building when she heard the chattering start. The Skeleton Man drew near, and he had seen her. The game was coming to an end now, and he would win if she didn’t flee.

  His chattering teeth echoed in her mind as he approached the building, hidden in the fog that surrounded them. It seemed as if the growing mist was avoiding the Emergency Services Center, forming a circle around it within which The Skeleton Man hid. His clicking teeth drummed in Alma’s head, a piece of the nightmare that only she could experience.