Middlebury Sanitarium (Moving In Series Book 3)

by Ron Ripley

  Brian took another drink and then swirled the golden fluid around the bottom of the glass. The smell was heady, and he closed his eyes to enjoy it. After a moment, he finished the drink, put the empty glass on the coffee table and stood up. His legs wobbled slightly, and it took him a second to get his balance.

  With a sigh, he crossed the room to the front door and peered out at the side lights.

  The dead lined the road and stared at the house. They even lined the brick path. They stood impassively in the snow.

  In the moonlight, a short way down the road, Brian saw two figures. They walked steadily, and as they neared the house, Brian recognized Ken.

  And Florence.

  Brian took an involuntary step back. His heart started its irregular beat and for the first time at Middlebury, he wondered if he had remembered to pack his heart medication.

  It won’t matter, he told himself. Not if she doesn’t want it to matter.

  Brian made his way back to the chair and sat down so heavily it woke Anne up.

  She sat up bleary eyed and looked around slightly confused.

  “Brian?” she asked, stifling a yawn. She looked at him and sleep fled her eyes. “Brian, are you okay?”

  He shook his head and pointed to the front door.

  Anne frowned, stood up and went to the door. Like him, Anne peered out the side lights.

  “I see Ken and a woman,” Anne said, looking back to Brian. “Is she the one with Florence?”

  “No,” Brian whispered.

  “No?” Anne asked

  “No.”

  “Who is it then?” she said, turning around to look at him.

  “Florence,” Brian said. “She’s Florence.”

  “What?” Anne said, glancing out again. “What? Why is she out? I thought she was supposed to be contained until it was time to face the King?”

  “I don’t know,” Brian said. “I don’t know why she’s out.”

  Anne hurried back to the couch and sat down. “She can’t come in, right? Didn’t you say this was a safe place? Ghosts can’t come in?”

  Relief flooded through Brian, and he sagged back into the chair. “You’re right. I had forgotten. Oh thank God, I’d forgotten.”

  Anne smiled.

  A key turned in the lock and then the front door swung open. Ken smiled at them as cold air rushed into the warm house and he stepped aside, and Florence crossed the threshold.

  “Hello Brian,” she said, her voice harsh. “I’m quite surprised you asked to see me.”

  Brian’s heart skipped a beat and the world went black.

  Chapter 47: When Will the King Arrive?

  The air ripped open, and Septimus Rex stepped out of the shadows and into Isabella’s parlor.

  His young mistress was not home.

  The fire in her hearth was dead.

  The tortured in her basement were silent.

  Rage flitted through his thoughts. Someone had robbed him of his woman, his company, the sole soul who understood and obeyed.

  The house felt his anger and the horsehair plaster burst into flame around him. The wooden floor and the rag-rugs scorched and then they burned as he walked upon them. With a gesture from his hand the front door exploded outward. Splinters shot out into the night.

  When the King exited the house, even the bricks began to burn. In the yard, the snow melted at his presence. The old apple tree withered and died as it sank in upon itself.

  Middlebury’s imprisoned dead, his unwilling subjects, cowered along the brick path and filled the street. He smiled at them, a smile which sent many of the dead into terrified sobs.

  Many, but not all.

  A young girl stood at the intersection of the walkway and the asphalt. In one hand she held a stuffed toy. The girl glared at him with hate.

  It pleased him, and Septimus Rex smiled benignly at her.

  “My dear,” he said, stopping a short distance from her, “will you not pay homage to your liege?”

  The girl curtsied and spat vehemently upon the ground.

  “Do you know,” he asked, “how my mistress died?”

  “I do,” the girl answered, straightening up.

  Her hate was pure, and Septimus Rex admired her for it.

  “Will you tell me?” he asked, chuckling.

  “Of course,” the girl said. She smiled at him. “She died by the hands of your watchman.”

  Mirth fled from the King.

  “I have no time for jokes, young lady,” he said sternly. “I do not enjoy them.”

  “It was no joke, Septimus Rex,” she replied, “and, in all honesty, I do not care what you enjoy.”

  Septimus’ rage boiled up, and he pushed it back. “Tell me then, and quickly.”

  The girl paused for a long moment and just as the King was about to speak again she said, “It was the stranger and the watchman.”

  “What stranger?” Septimus Rex demanded.

  “A strange man sent to study Middlebury,” the girl answered. “The watchman went to fetch a box from him and in the box, there was a killer. When the box was opened, well, Isabella died.”

  “And my watchman did this?” Septimus Rex asked, with fury building within him.

  “Yes,” the girl said happily.

  “How did my mistress die?” he asked.

  “Miserably,” the girl said. “More’s the pity. I did like her. I had wished the watchman had killed you rather than Isabella.”

  Septimus Rex snarled, and his anger escaped him. It rolled out in a wave along the path. The dead shrieked as it passed them, for although the rage was directed at the girl the mere closeness of the rage burned them.

  And when his fury struck her, the girl laughed.

  She laughed even as she was ripped apart. Flesh from muscle, muscle from bone, organs desiccated. Although she was dead, she felt every bit of pain as though she was alive.

  A moment later only the stuffed dog and her tattered night shirt remained.

  Septimus Rex looked at the other dead around him. No one met his eyes. No head was raised.

  “I go now to my watchman,” the King said. “To hear if her accusations were true.”

  The bricks cracked beneath his feet as he walked along the path. He paused at the remnants of the girl’s nightshirt and picked up the dog.

  Yes, the King thought, looking at the dog. I will ask my watchman if what this one had said was true.

  With the toy tucked under his arm the King started towards the watchman’s home.

  Chapter 48: With the Watchman

  Fear kept Brian in the recliner.

  He had only been unconscious for a few minutes, enough time to scare Anne. Ken, however, was fully trained in CPR, and he had assured both Anne and Brian. Brian had only fainted. He had not suffered another heart attack.

  Being ashamed of fainting is better than being dead, Brian told himself.

  Ken sat on the couch beside Anne, and all three of them looked to the front door.

  Florence stood there, and a small smile played upon her lips. Anne had read to her from the book that the ghost in the library had thrown at Brian.

  Ken had told her about Clyde in the tunnel, of how they needed to call upon Florence.

  Florence had listened to all of it quietly, and she seemed to absorb all of the information. When Ken finished, a silence had fallen over the house.

  Brian had glanced at the front window once and seen the dead. They pressed close to see them and to see what Florence would do.

  Brian was curious about her next decision as well.

  He figured his chances of leaving the house alive were pretty slim.

  “You know, Brian Roy,” Florence said, her voice carrying with it a note of grim determination, “there are things in this world and the next that are far greater than either of us. Far more important than either of us can truly understand.”

  Suddenly Florence looked to the left, her eyes took on a faraway look, and a small, pleased smile crept over her fac
e.

  “Ah,” she said, turning to look at them again. “The King approaches.”

  A burst of fear punched Brian in the stomach, and he nearly doubled over from the pain of it. He saw Anne’s face go white and her throat convulsed. Ken stood up and walked around the room anxiously. Finally, the man turned and looked at Florence.

  “Florence,” Ken said respectfully, “will you be able to handle the King?”

  “Alone?” she asked. “Possibly. With you, undoubtedly.”

  Ken looked confused. “With me?”

  “Yes,” Florence said, looking at him piercingly. “With you. You are the Watchman, Kenneth. And I ask you this, who were you watching over all these years?”

  “The residents and staff of Middlebury, when there were residents,” he said.

  Florence smiled at him. “Kenneth, there are residents still. You know it to be true, and thus, you remained to continue to watch over them. Now I ask you this, were you watching over the residents for the benefit of the King?”

  Ken shook his head.

  “And why do you not serve the King?” Florence asked gently.

  “Because the King keeps them here,” Ken said. “He keeps them all here.”

  “Exactly,” Florence said, nodding her head with approval. “Exactly. Together the King is ours, Ken. The fight will not be easy. But he will be ours. Do you believe me?”

  “I do,” Ken whispered. “I do.”

  “Come then, Kenneth, Brian, and Anne,” Florence said. “Let us prepare to meet the King.”

  Chapter 49: Embracing Destiny

  Ken had been afraid before.

  He had made it through Vietnam, after all. He had an airstrike medal with four clusters. Ken had even survived a helicopter crash and landed in zones so hot he thought he wouldn’t see home again.

  So yes, Ken knew fear.

  But he hadn’t known fear like this.

  Beyond his own front door, the king approached.

  Septimus Rex. An untouchable murderer.

  Septimus Rex, who came to claim Ken as his own.

  “Should I get my shotgun?” Ken asked Florence.

  The dead woman looked at him, smiled and shook her head. “No, Kenneth. Such a thing will not work on the King.”

  “What will?” Brian asked.

  The look Florence gave made Brian nervous.

  She hated the man.

  Brian looked down at his own feet.

  Florence turned back to Ken.

  “You’ll know what to do, Watchman. Have no fear,” she said. “Come now, all of you. It won’t be safe in here.”

  “Can they get in?” Anne asked, clearly reluctant to leave the house.

  “No,” Florence said. “But they can destroy it.”

  “Oh,” Anne said, standing up. “Okay then.”

  Ken watched Brian stand up as well. Ken turned to Florence and said, “I’m ready.”

  “Good,” she said, and she opened the door.

  At the end of his walkway, Ken saw the King.

  Septimus Rex was a monster. Perhaps seven feet in height and proportionately built, the King wore a massive gray robe which looked to be the tattered remains of a hospital gown. His feet were wrapped in burlap sacks, and his hair was white and tufts of it clung to a nearly bald head. His face was fat, his eyes a bright blue. The teeth in his head were yellow with wide gaps between them.

  And in a massive hand, he carried Francine’s dog.

  The stench of death permeated the cold air, and the King licked his lips with a vividly red tongue.

  Florence stepped to one side, and Ken did the same. Anne and Brian followed close behind.

  “Who summoned the woman?” the King asked, and his voice was deep, painful to Ken’s ears.

  “I did,” Brian answered.

  “I hate you,” Septimus Rex said, and Brian screamed.

  Ken turned to look at the other man, and he saw Brian was on fire. His clothes burned brightly as Anne slapped at the flames.

  “Enough!” Ken yelled, and the flames went out.

  The King looked surprised.

  “Stronger than you thought, Septimus?” Florence asked.

  The King stared angrily at her. “Keep your mouth closed, woman.”

  Florence laughed. “And what will you do, Septimus?”

  “Septimus Rex!” the King screamed. “Do not forget my title!”

  “Earn it,” she said.

  “I have earned it!”

  Ken’s house exploded, and the force of the blast threw him forward. Over the sound of the flames and of things popping in the sudden heat, Ken heard someone yell. He pulled himself up and looked around. Brian was on his knees, head down. From the man’s shoulder, a large piece of wood, perhaps a foot long and an inch in diameter, protruded. Blood ran down Anne’s face as she tried to help Brian to his feet.

  Florence alone remained on her feet.

  “Pretty,” Florence said, and she made a small gesture with her hand.

  The night, illuminated by the flames as they devoured Ken’s home, rippled.

  Septimus Rex stumbled back, shock clear on his face.

  And for the first time Ken saw a flicker of fear cross the King’s face.

  “Did you think, Septimus,” Florence said, taking a small step forward, “I would grow weaker, with the passage of time?”

  She made the same gesture and again the King stumbled back. He dropped to one knee and then forced himself to stand again.

  “Do you not realize, Septimus, I am no longer among the living?” She made a harsh cut in the air with her left hand, and the King screamed as he fell back.

  When he got to his feet once more, Ken saw the King bled from a cut down one cheek.

  Septimus howled in fear and rage, and Ken fell backward.

  Anne screamed, and Brian let out a pained howl.

  And Florence laughed.

  “Come, Septimus, let us discuss this better.”

  Florence started to walk down the path towards the King.

  Chapter 50: Fear is Motivation

  Brian threw up.

  Down the front of his shirt, over the piece of wood which had pierced his shoulder from the back to the front, and he felt the sting of his flesh burned by the King.

  Anne lay on the path, blood seeping from damaged eardrums.

  Behind them, the flames devoured the house. Ahead of them, the King stepped back nervously, and Ken crawled forward.

  Florence walked down the path towards the King.

  Brian watched as the dead scattered. They ran from the scene. The street emptied quickly, and Brian saw the King drop the stuffed dog the little girl had carried with her.

  Brian tried to move his right arm, but the effort caused him to scream.

  He gasped for air and managed a weak, “Anne.”

  The sound of Ken’s home as it burned drowned out Brian’s voice, so he repeated her name, only louder.

  She managed to look up at him. “What’s happening?”

  “They’re fighting,” Brian said. “And we need to leave.”

  Anne nodded and sat up. She blinked, shook her head and then she pushed herself to her feet. Brian tried to do the same but he couldn’t.

  Anne took him by the left arm and helped him up. Ahead of them, Brian saw Ken get to his feet and stagger towards Florence. Florence walked steadily towards the King, who retreated.

  The King screamed and clapped his hands together. Trees were torn up from the road and hurled at Florence, who merely passed through them while Ken scrambled around the upturned roots.

  “Septimus,” Florence said, laughing, “what do you think such things would do to me? When I was flesh and blood, innocent and unwary, yes, your tricks did their damage. Even then I won out.”

  She snapped her fingers, and the King was thrown a dozen feet down the road.

  “Perhaps not you,” Septimus snarled. “What of the others?”

  The King looked to Brian, made a fist and pulled his hand ba
ck violently.

  Brian screamed as the wood in his shoulder was jerked out from back to front.

  Florence chuckled. “What is he to me but meat? I will kill him myself when I am done, Septimus. You do nothing except save me time.”

  “No, Brian!” Anne said as he dropped to the ground.

  He sat down, the pain intense. Anne hurried to him, shrugged her coat off and quickly pressed it on the entrance and exit points of the wound.

  Ken looked back at them.

  “Get out!” the old man shouted. “Get out now!”

  “Can you stand up, Brian?” Anne asked.

  Brian could hear the fear in her voice. She might lose what little control she had left.

  “I have to,” Brian said, and with Anne’s help, he got to his feet once more.

  Chapter 51: Septimus Rex Forces the Issue

  Ken could hardly think.

  The pain was tremendous. Agony as some great device sought to break the fused seams of his skull.

  “Traitor!” the King screamed. “Betrayer! I’ll see you pulled apart and twisted inside out, you foul thing!”

  Ken groaned, yet he continued to stumble forward with determination.

  “Leave him be, Septimus,” Florence snapped.

  “Harlot!” Septimus shrieked. “Shut your mouth, harlot!”

  As the last word escaped his lips, the maintenance building exploded. Debris rushed down from the night sky, and flames shot upwards. A brick struck Ken in the right shoulder and his collar bone shattered with the ease of an old branch.

  Ken snarled and his rage buried the pain of his collarbone deep within itself. Suddenly an image flashed before his eyes.

  Ike Fenton being thrown out of the window.

  And then his friend was there.

  Ike Fenton dressed as he had been the day he died, in his uniform. His friend ran to the King and slammed into him.

  The scream ripped out of Septimus Rex’s mouth made Ken’s eyes pulse with pain, but Ken enjoyed it.

  Ike landed punch after punch, until finally the King rounded on him, grasped Ike in his massive hands and tore him in half.

  Ike vanished, and the King panted.