by Ron Ripley
She shook her head, and his heart sank. The dead woman saw his expression and pointed to her mouth.
“Tell me? You can tell me?” he asked.
Elaine nodded. She pointed to Alex.
“Alex?” Marcus asked.
Again, the dead woman nodded. Then she pointed to herself.
“You,” Marcus said.
She shook her head.
Marcus frowned, and then it dawned on him, and he smiled with relief. “Elaine!”
The dead woman clapped her hands silently.
“What is going on?” Alex asked, sounding confused.
“She’ll spell it out for me,” Marcus said, laughing. “It’s how we exchanged names. I am a fool at times, Alex. A complete and utter fool.”
Returning his attention to Elaine, Marcus began to recite the alphabet.
***
“Do not open the door,” Marcus said. “Do you understand?”
The boy nodded.
The late afternoon sun shone upon the village, and the smell of fresh earth filled the air. Marcus and Alex had excavated a small, but deep hole on the side of the chapel, the shovel stolen from a work shed behind one of the other houses from Worthe’s strange collection.
“Elaine and I will return to the Reverend’s house. He believes, it would seem, that I will return to the house to seek vengeance,” Marcus continued. “Remember, I am not. Elaine will try to protect me as I find his object and secure it in the box I created. Then what?”
“You’ll let me know it’s alright by yelling ‘clear,’ and I’ll know it’s safe to come out,” Alex said. “Then we’ll bury the box and hope to be done with him forever.”
“Exactly correct,” Marcus said, smiling. “Well said. I’m closing the door now. Make sure you stay inside.”
The boy nodded, his face tense, and Marcus closed the door, wishing he didn’t have to.
With a deep breath, he turned and looked at Elaine. The dead woman, despite being deceased, had an aura of fear about her.
And why wouldn’t she? Marcus asked himself. She was tortured to death and relived the nightmare for over a hundred years. I’m afraid, and I haven’t suffered anything like that.
Bending down, he picked up his length of chain in his right hand, and the lead box he had built in the left. Holding each tightly, he nodded to Elaine, and the dead woman led the way.
They arrived at the back of the house, and Marcus peered into the kitchen through the open doorway. He hoped the Reverend was in the attic, eager for Marcus’s arrival.
Stay there, Marcus thought with a rough mixture of fear and hate.
Climbing the stairs and entering the room, Marcus carefully set the box down on the table and opened the container’s rough lid. Within the box was a large amount of salt, and he hoped it would be enough to cover the item.
***
Nurse Schomp fluttered about him like a mother bird, and Abel Worthe had to resist the urge to shoo her away like a bothersome hen.
His heart rate had skyrocketed with the entrance of Subject B into the Reverend’s kitchen.
Why is he there? Abel wondered. What could have possibly enticed him back into that house?
Abel maneuvered a drone to get a better close up on the scene.
He could see the fear etched on the man’s face. Abel could even count the rivulets of sweat coursing down from Subject B’s forehead. In silence, Abel watched as the subject approached the corner hutch.
***
And it’s here, Marcus said, turning around and looking at the corner hutch, its missing drawer looking like a child with an absent tooth.
A malignant child, he thought and then whispered, “Focus. Find the object and get out of here.”
Marcus turned, walked to the corner hutch, where he would find the tool, and opened the doors. The shelves were bare, but somewhere in the seemingly open piece of furniture, the corkscrew was hidden.
He reached in with his free hand and pushed and prodded the walls, seeking some hidden chamber, a loose board that would lead to a safe.
Then he found it.
There was no secret safe or hidden chamber. Only a wide crack in the back of the hutch that led to dead space between the drawers and the hutch’s base, and a corkscrew was in it.
Marcus pushed the wood down, pulled up, and heard a muted crack, and succeeded in sliding his hand in. He felt the cold metal of the corkscrew against his fingertips, and he seized hold of it. With a grimace, he tugged, twisted, then almost fell back as the kitchen implement came free.
“Yes!” Marcus yelled triumphantly, the corkscrew held high.
And something struck him in the back.
Chapter 47: Ownership and Property Rights
The blow was strong enough to launch Marcus through the empty doorway, down the stairs, and to crash onto the ground.
As he scrambled to his feet, happy that he still gripped the corkscrew and chain, Marcus turned to face the Reverend.
The dead man smiled at him, offered a mocking bow, and said, “I cannot express the disappointment I feel at your having refused my invitation.”
Marcus’s chest ached and his back throbbed, and while it pained him to speak, he forced himself to say, “Thou art a monster and a fool.”
The Reverend smirked. “Perhaps, but one who will defeat thee.”
Elaine burst from the kitchen, her own form mingling with that of her husband and eliciting a scream of outrage from the man. The dead spouses fought in a blur of arms and legs that Marcus briefly tried to follow until he realized he would go mad in the attempt.
There was neither rhyme nor reason to it. They had ceased to be two separate entities and were instead one raging ethereal mass of hate.
With pain stabbing his chest with every breath, Marcus forced himself back into the kitchen only to have a blow land on the side of his head. He went sprawling across the floor, and the corkscrew slid halfway beneath the oven. Marcus tried to reach it, but his hand became stuck for a moment.
Behind him, Marcus heard the pleased laughter of the Reverend.
No time, Marcus thought and rammed his hand farther beneath the stove. He let out a sharp cry as he felt his skin tear from the back of his hand, but his fingers locked onto the smooth wood of the corkscrew and he dragged it out. A flap of his skin hung down, and blood seemed to pour from it.
Looks worse than it is, Marcus thought. That’s all. No reason to worry. None at all.
He clambered to his feet, stepped stiffly to the table, and dropped the corkscrew onto it.
The Reverend surged forward. Fury writhed across the dead man’s face, and the force of his blow sent Marcus spinning backward, the wrapped iron links of the chain around his arm rattling with the violence.
His sense of balance lost, Marcus caught himself on the edge of the table, only to feel a hammer-like blow slam into his left shoulder. The pain was instantaneous and immense, wrenching a gasp of agony out of his throat.
Struggling to remain upright, Marcus inadvertently shook the table when the Reverend struck him again.
The corkscrew, balanced precariously on the edge, tumbled to the floor.
Fear thrust clarity into his mind, and Marcus dropped to his hands and knees to recover the item even as the Reverend attempted to strike him again.
Marcus’s hand closed over the corkscrew as an ice-cold foot connected with his thigh, the muscle going numb with pain.
Marcus let out a howl of rage and pulled himself to his feet. He saw the open box with the salt in it and lunged forward. The Reverend slammed a fist down onto Marcus’s forearm, but even as he did so, Marcus let go of the corkscrew.
The small item sailed forth, forming a short arc before it crashed into the soft bed of salt linking the bod’s interior.
As the Reverend screamed and clawed at him, Marcus reached out with a shaking hand, swept salt over the corkscrew, and then closed the lead lid.
The Reverend was gone.
Elaine flickered in and out of existence.
<
br /> Her ghostly form was torn in numerous places, and there was a sense of weariness and age about her.
“Go,” Marcus said, shooing her away. “Rest. Alex and I can bury him.”
Elaine hesitated, then vanished.
Gritting his teeth, Marcus bent down, picked up his chain and walked slowly back to the chapel. When he reached the graveyard, he called out, “Clear!”
The door was thrown open, and the boy stood on the threshold, wide-eyed.
“Time to bury him,” Marcus said.
“Marcus,” the boy whispered, pointing back toward the houses.
Frowning, Marcus turned around and saw a small dead girl. She smiled at him, the expression guileless.
But it was false.
The dead girl struck him in his stomach with enough force to cause him to drop the box containing the Reverend. In the blink of an eye, the girl was gone, but the Reverend had returned.
***
Alex stood, horrified as the Reverend walked toward Marcus, the little girl nowhere to be seen.
The lead box lay half open on the ground, and the iron chain Marcus always carried was beside the man.
The iron chain, Alex thought, and then he sprang out of the doorway.
From the corner of his eyes, Alex saw the dead man partially turn and grin at him, but the expression faded as Alex’s small hands closed over the cold iron links. A snarl appeared on the dead man’s face, and as the Reverend stepped toward him, Alex hefted the chain and swung it clumsily.
Despite the awkwardness of the blow, it still landed, and the dead man vanished.
Only to reappear a moment later, closer than before.
A sneer replaced the Reverend’s snarl, and suddenly, all Alex could see was the same sneer his stepfather had worn whenever Alex would need a beating.
Fury, cold and blinding, settled over him, and Alex attacked.
***
The chain was a blur in the boy’s hands, but Marcus placed all of his attention on the open box. He could see the corkscrew within, and he knew it didn’t matter. What mattered was closing the box.
Close it, he thought, reaching for the container. Get it into the ground. Bury it.
He repeated his mantra as he edged toward the box, the boy ferociously fighting the dead man.
Finally, Marcus’s hand touched the lead box, and he closed the lid.
Chapter 48: A Sweet Beginning
Marcus and the boy sat beside one another. Alex’s finger kept his place in his book, and Marcus smoked patiently, his injured right hand wrapped in gauze.
Professor Abel Worthe stood a short distance away, well protected by a bodyguard.
“I am extremely impressed,” the man said, rubbing his hands together. “I really cannot stress that enough. The two of you overcame a great many obstacles. Some, I must confess, I didn’t believe you would be able to defeat. Well, live and learn, isn’t that so?”
Marcus and Alex remained silent.
The professor shrugged and grinned. “Since you have defeated the Reverend, and placed him in a grave, remarkably well done, by the way, his home is yours.”
“And if we choose to stay out here?” Marcus asked.
“Eventually you’ll freeze to death,” the professor stated. “I would suggest making yourself comfortable in 114 Broad Street. Stake out your claim as it were.”
“What?” Alex asked, glancing at Marcus.
“It means there will be more of us soon,” Marcus said with disgust.
“It does,” the professor said, clapping his hands and oblivious to Marcus’s tone. “I haven’t narrowed it down yet, of course. I gained valuable information from the entirety of this experiment. I’m hopeful that with the addition of several new members to the test group, we’ll really be able to experiment with the emotions and reactions that are experienced.”
Marcus didn’t say anything. Alex looked as though he might, then shook his head.
“And your lives are not the only items with which you will be rewarded,” the professor said. “Expect a delivery soon, and I do hope you will move into the Reverend’s home. If not for convenience, then at least for safety.”
Marcus and Alex watched the man and his guard leave, and as Marcus considered what the man had told them, Alex said, “I don’t like him.”
“Neither do I,” Marcus replied.
“Do you think there’s a way out of here?” Alex asked in a low voice. “These ghosts scare me.”
“I don’t know,” Marcus said, unwilling to lie to the boy. “I hope there is. Winter is fast approaching though, which means we shouldn’t attempt anything. Not until spring or summer, of course. We can start saving some supplies. I suspect, Alex, that we are not close to anything remotely like civilization.”
“I bet,” Alex said, glancing angrily at the gate as it closed, “even if there is a town or city nearby, he has people in it. Making sure the people who work here don’t talk about it.”
“That is an excellent statement,” Marcus said, smiling at Alex. “And, unfortunately, it’s probably true. So, here’s what you and I shall do. We will begin to save food. A little bit at a time, and only those that will last for a long while. Together we will go into some of the other houses and explore them. Quickly and quietly.”
Fear raced across Alex’s face.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Marcus said quickly.
“I’m just afraid,” Alex whispered. “And why would we go in?”
“Books,” Marcus answered. “I don’t know how old some of the books are, but there may be some that deal with have pertinent information. And, if we’re lucky, there may even be some old book on the Arctic and Antarctic explorations. Even something about the winters on the prairies or old New England. More importantly, there’s the chance we could find food with a long shelf-life or other supplies that will be useful.”
“Oh,” Alex said. He gave Marcus a wan smile. “I can help with that.”
“You don’t have to, Alex,” Marcus said.
“That’s okay, I should,” Alex replied.
“Well, let’s talk of something else for a bit, shall we?”
The boy nodded.
“Good,” Marcus said. “Now, tell me, since we have a few weeks of decent weather left before we should sleep in the room with the fireplace, would you like your own bedroom?”
Alex thought about the question for a moment, then asked, “Can I have a room with a window?”
“Yes,” Marcus said softly, then smiled at the boy. “Yes, you may have a room with a window.”
“Cool,” Alex said. Then he grinned, picked up his book, and began to read.
As they sat in front of the chapel, Marcus looked out toward the east and wondered from where their newest guests would arrive.
Chapter 49: Subject C Summary
Please note, all significant biographical, biological, and postmortem information can be found in Addendum C attached at the end of this work.
At this point in the experiment, I have placed four subjects within the Village. Subject A, as you will recall, did not survive the first day. He refused to accept the reality of his situation, which was surmised by his returning to the home of Greeley and climbing back into bed.
Subject C was abducted from outside of her place of employment which, undoubtedly, had an impact upon her sense of reality. This was magnified by her forcible placement into the Reverend’s home, although Subject B interjected himself and managed to remove her from the situation.
For more information on Subject B, please see Addendum B.
Subject C at first refused to accept the existence of ghosts. Her interaction with the triplets confirmed the reality of the dead, and Subject C was rescued by Subject B and the Reverend’s wife. While Subject C was cared for and eventually began to stabilize, I placed a large street clock in the center of the Village. This was done to give the subjects a definitive sense of time, one that could slowly drive them mad, regardless as to whethe
r or not they might be naturally inclined toward mental instability.
Subject C’s intellect and mental acuity were unable to bear the temporal change produced by the clock, and she acted in a disorganized manner. Intellectually, she disintegrated, finally attempting to leave the experiment with the assistance of a guard. This was strongly discouraged.
Subject C’s inability to deal with the parameters of the experiment, her constant mental deterioration, combined with a numbness to the situation, made her easy prey for the Reverend. He tore her head from her neck and used it to entice Subject B into battle.
Subject C’s body and possessions were cremated per the regulations I established, so there is little chance that she will appear again.
This concludes the summary of Subject C. Subjects E and F will be obtained as soon as the Illinois property is purchased and established in the Village.
* * *
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