The Dunewalkers (Moving In Series Book 2)

by Ron Ripley

  He’s only a teenager, Brian thought.

  They took the teenager as a prisoner.

  Brian and William continued to watch in silence as the Indians bound the young man’s arms behind his back. The warriors prodded him along with light blows from the butts of their muskets against his back and shoulders. Two of the victorious men stayed behind for a few moments. They flipped the boat over and stove it in with quick blows from their tomahawks. Once finished, they robbed the dead of powder-horns and muskets then slipped away into the dunes.

  Brian and William stood alone. The bodies of the dead lay in grotesque positions.

  “Jesus Christ,” William whispered.

  Brian could only nod.

  The world shook ever so slightly before his eyes and then he had to close them against a sudden, bright light. When the light subsided, he blinked and looked around.

  He and William still stood on the beach.

  All evidence of the massacre they had witnessed was gone. The sun stood right above the horizon while the tide eased out.

  “This is your world, William.”

  The voice of a young girl came from in front of them, yet she could not be seen.

  “This is your world, William,” she repeated. “And you cannot leave it.”

  Chapter 25: Leo, October 31st, 1998.

  Leo woke up and found himself in a hospital room.

  The room was dark, light from the hall creating a rectangle on the beige tiled floor. The room stank. Not of body odor or death, but a rank-smelling hospital Leo could remember vividly from when his grandfather had died of cancer.

  I am not dying, Leo told himself. He moved his right hand slightly, noticed an IV and the steady drip from its bag. He smiled at it. I am alive.

  He knew it was true.

  He could feel it was true.

  He didn’t know how long he had been there. Both of those questions bothered him slightly, but he was far more intrigued with the visitor he had.

  The visitor was a man. An old man, tall, thin and clad all in black. He had a white beard, neatly trimmed close to the skin. His white hair was long, brushing the shoulders of the suit coat he wore. Silver rimmed glasses sat upon a narrow nose. He sat easily in the room’s only chair. His feet, clad in black shoes that seemed to glow in the little light afforded by the open door, were placed firmly on the floor. His long, slim hands were clasped on his lap.

  “You can see me,” the man said after a moment.

  “Yes,” Leo answered.

  The man chuckled.

  “It is not often I meet someone who can see us,” the man said.

  “You are dead,” Leo said.

  “I am. And you are not.”

  “Good.”

  “Is the clock yours?” the man asked, nodding to Leo’s left.

  Leo looked and saw his grandmother’s travel clock.

  “Yes,” Leo answered.

  “Your parents were arguing over it.”

  “I stole it from my mother.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “And why did you?”

  “I needed something close to my grandmother.”

  “Why?” the man asked in a low voice.

  For a moment Leo hesitated, but then without quite knowing why, he said “I needed to bind my grandmother to the clock. She was killing people.”

  The man remained silent for a few minutes. He took a pocket watch out of a waistcoat pocket and opened and closed the lid a few times. Finally, the man put the timepiece away and looked steadily at Leo.

  “Did you bind her?” the man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you aware the longer you keep her in the clock, the stronger she’ll get?”

  “No,” Leo said in surprise. “I did not know.”

  “She will,” the man said with a grim nod. “You’ll want to recast your binding spell each night, young man. Preferably at midnight. Midnight is when the wall is thinnest between our worlds.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m impressed, however,” the man said. “Most people aren’t capable of binding a ghost. And if your grandmother had enough strength to kill people, well, it means she is stronger than most.”

  “You are dead,” Leo said.

  “I am,” the man said with a smile. “And you are not.”

  “For which I am thankful.”

  The man’s smile broadened. “My name is Robert.”

  “I am Leonidas Moreland. May I ask why you have not moved on?” Leo said.

  “You may, and I will tell you,” Robert said, grinning. “When I died I did not die alone. There was an accident here in the city, at the train station. The engineer suffered a stroke at the controls, and we came in too fast and jumped the tracks. After the derailment, we struck an inbound freight train. I died here, at the hospital. Many others did as well. I decided to stay and help those who were afraid.”

  “You were not afraid of your death?” Leo asked.

  Robert shook his head. “I was an old man when I died, Leonidas. I was going to be celebrating my eightieth birthday with my daughter and son-in-law. I took the train up from Boston. But I had lived a long time, and I was happy. Others were neither aged nor were they pleased with their lives. Or their deaths. And so I remained.”

  “Oh,” Leo said. Then after a moment, he asked, “Could you teach me how to help people move on?”

  Robert’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Yes. Yes, I could.”

  “Thank you,” Leo said. “Thank you very much.”

  Chapter 26: Déjà Vu?

  Jenny’s cell rang, and she picked it up off of the dining table.

  “Who is it?” Sylvia asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jenny said. “I don’t recognize the number.”

  She answered the call anyway. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Babe,” Brian said. His sounded tired and worn out.

  “Brian!” Jenny said. “Oh damn, are you okay? What happened? Did you know Paul was back?”

  Brian let out a happy laugh. “As for right now, Babe, yeah, I’m okay. As for what happened, well, we’ll have to wait until I see you two in person. Way too long for me to tell over the phone right now. And yes, I am well aware of Paul’s return. How did you know?”

  “He answered your phone when I called you last night.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” Brian muttered. “How the hell did he answer my phone?”

  “No idea,” Jenny said. “Are you heading home yet?”

  “About five minutes,” he answered. “I’m just wrapping some stuff up here with William, the man who called, and then I’ll be on the road. Where are you?”

  “Sylvia’s,” Jenny said. “We’re talking with a woman who might be able to help us get a handle on the whole Paul thing.”

  “Awesome,” Brian said, relief filling his voice. “Okay. I’ll meet you at Sylvia’s in about two hours, alright?”

  “I’d prefer if you were here now,” Jenny said with a sigh. “But yeah, alright. I’ll see you in two hours.”

  “Cool. I love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Jenny said, and she ended the call. She smiled at Sylvia and Jeannette. “He’s on his way home.”

  “Excellent,” Sylvia said. “I was worried.”

  “Your husband?” Jeannette asked.

  Jenny nodded.

  “I am glad,” the older woman said, smiling. She reached out and patted Leo’s journal. “So, you have learned how Leo bound his grandmother, and how he met Robert in the hospital?”

  Jenny nodded.

  Sylvia asked, “Jeannette, how well did you know Leo?”

  The older woman’s smile faded. An air of melancholy slipped around her, and she said, “I think I knew him fairly well. He did not, as you know, Sylvia, confide in many people. Robert, from what Leo told me, and you. And me, on occasion. His grandmother, of course, had been his greatest confidant. It was the reason why his task was so difficult. His accomplishment all the more impressive.”

  “Have you ev
er had to bind someone?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes,” Jeannette said. “I was not successful, however.”

  “What happened?” Sylvia asked.

  Jeannette was silent, and for a moment, Jenny didn’t think she was going to answer. Then the older woman reached up to the top button of the blue blouse she wore and undid it, as well as the next three. Beneath the first shirt was a white undershirt and Jeannette carefully pulled down the collar.

  A large scar covered all of the flesh revealed.

  For a moment, Jeannette let them look at it. Then silently she redid the buttons.

  “I had the good sense,” the woman said, picking up her teacup with a trembling hand, “to try it first with someone far more accomplished than myself. The ghost would have killed me had my teacher not been with me.”

  “Who was your teacher?” Jenny asked.

  Jeannette took a sip of her tea, smiled sadly and said, “Leo’s grandmother.”

  Chapter 27: Day Release

  William drove to the Wells Library as soon as Brian left.

  Helen, Jeremy’s mother, worked as a librarian. And, from what William remembered, she was also a board member of the Wells Historical Society. He desperately hoped she would be able to shine a little light on the whole Kathleen situation.

  A few minutes after leaving the house, William pulled into the nearly empty parking lot for the library. He recognized Helen’s yellow, Volkswagen Jetta and parked beside it. A cold wind struck his face as he got out of the truck. He smelled snow.

  I need to stop at the grocery store before I go home, he thought as he climbed the steps to the front door. Doubt the plow truck will think of the Coast Road as a priority if we get snowed in.

  Opening the door, William walked into the warmth and comfort of the library. He could smell books and coffee, and he smiled. He passed through the vestibule and came to a stop in front of the circulation desk. A moment later, Helen came out of an office and smiled at him.

  “William!” she said happily, stepping around the massive piece of furniture to give him a hug. The small, petite woman was exceptionally strong, as her son had been.

  “Hello, Helen,” William said. “How are you?”

  “Oh good, good,” she smiled, taking a step back. She frowned. “You look pale. And tired. Are you eating enough?”

  “Yes,” he grinned.

  “And the right things?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you drinking?” she asked, looking over the top of her black framed glasses at him.

  “Most certainly,” he smiled.

  She shook her head. “My husband says it’s as normal for a Marine to drink as it is a priest to pray. I still don’t like it, though.”

  “Well,” William said, “let’s not talk about it then.”

  “Fair enough,” she said with a nod. “Anyway, tell me what brings you all the way out here to see me, if you are here to see me.”

  “I am,” William said. “I was wondering if you could tell me anything about the house.”

  Helen looked at him for a long time before saying, “You’ve met Kathleen.”

  The statement surprised him more than he thought it would have.

  “Um, yeah. Yes, I did.”

  Helen nodded. “And you want to know who she is and why she’s there.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fair enough,” Helen said. “First, let me say I didn’t think she would have made herself known to you. I lived in the house for months right after I divorced my first husband. Kathleen didn’t show up until six weeks after I had moved in. Over the years, I’ve spoken to her occasionally. Just enough to go digging into my family’s past and find out what the heck was going on at the beach house.”

  “Okay,” William said. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m not even sure,” Helen said with a tired smile. “I can tell you what I found out. Kathleen Sullivan is the ghost or entity who lives in the house. The house, though, it’s not the original.”

  “No?”

  Helen shook her head. “No. Not at all. There was a garrison built on the site, but that burned down in the late seventeen hundreds. Anyway, Kathleen lived there for a short time. Maybe a month, if that. The dates, not surprisingly, are kind of iffy.”

  “What happened to her?” William asked.

  “There was a raid by some Native Americans. I think they were Abenaki, but I’m not sure. This took place in the late sixteen hundreds. She was killed. Her body mutilated. She was protecting her sister-in-law, a woman who was my many greats grandmother. The property has remained in my family since it was originally claimed.”

  “Wow,” William said after a moment. “That’s a hell of a long time to own something. I’m surprised no one tried to buy your family out, what with all of the beachfront you own.”

  Helen nodded. “They have tried, and they continue to try. So long as we pay our taxes they can’t do anything to us. We have a trust set up, and the taxes are paid each year.”

  “So,” William said, rubbing the back of his head, “why is she still there? Why are there so many damned people there? How the hell can so many people fit in the damned place?”

  Helen smiled. “All questions I asked myself, William. I’ll tell you what I found out.”

  “I am all ears.”

  “Most of what I learned came directly from Kathleen, and occasionally she would bring in another to speak. But the answer to your first question is Kathleen has no choice but to be there. She’s essentially guarding the spot. The family’s section of beachfront serves as a magnet of sorts. The spirits of people who die near it are drawn to it. Kathleen is there to help those who want to move on, well, to move on. And for those who don’t wish to, she offers a place to rest. Some don’t even realize they’re there. Others do.”

  “Are the dune walkers included?” William asked.

  Helen looked at him sharply.

  After a moment, she asked, “How many of the dune walkers have you seen?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’ve seen shapes and such, but the only definite walker was one I saw on my first day in the house.”

  “Well, the short answer to the dune walker question is ‘yes.’ Many of those don’t realize they’re dead.” She took her glasses off, cleaned them with a piece of tissue from her pocket, and then put them back on. “Now, in regards to the number of people, William, a lot of people die. Seeing how most of Wells is on the coast, and how so many people make their living on the water, it shouldn’t come as any surprise as to how many dead people can linger.”

  “Okay,” William said. “Fair enough. But how are they all in there?”

  Helen smiled. “They’re not really in the house you’re seeing.”

  “What do you mean?” William asked. “Where else would they be?”

  “She brings them into the garrison.”

  “The garrison. But the garrison’s gone,” William said. “Wait. Why do I have a problem with a house which isn’t there? There are ghosts. Ghosts everywhere.”

  “Yes,” Helen said. “There certainly are. Unfortunately, I don’t know much more, William. My interactions with Kathleen were always good, though. She never treated me badly. I haven’t spoken to her in a terribly long time. What has she said?” Helen asked, leaning forward, her voice full of excitement.

  “She told me I can’t leave the house,” William said, suddenly tired. “She said they’re not going to let me leave.”

  Chapter 28: Leo, November 4th, 1998

  It was midnight, and Leo had left his hospital room.

  The IV had been removed from his hand. He now could move easily about the hospital. He had quickly learned the layout of the building with Robert’s help.

  The facility was thinly staffed on third shift and Leo discovered he could be exceptionally quiet. A skill he didn’t know he had possessed.

  And while he was supposed to be resting, Leo made his way towards the dead.

  The hospital was f
ull of them.

  The dead tended to stay in certain places, but others, much like Robert, had been in the building for decades. These ghosts moved from room to room, hall to hall as they pleased. A few of them had seen Leo and avoided him. Others followed, the sense of malignancy making Leo nauseous.

  Leo didn’t let them know he could see them.

  Instinct told him this particular breed of ghost would try to hurt him. He was not confident in his abilities to defend himself.

  Yet this night, his third on his own, was remarkably free of the harmful dead. Which was good. Leo was hunting.

  He had heard crying when he first slipped to the fifth floor from the stairwell. This level was darker than the others. Despondency dulled the lights and clouded his vision.

  Leo paused beside a fire escape map posted near the door. The laminated paper boldly stated, “You Are Here!” with a red dot in a hallway. Above the words, he read another, much smaller line.

  Fifth Floor, D Wing, Psychiatric Care Facility.

  The crying continued.

  Ahead of him were a set of doors which blocked the entrance into the rest of the unit. The doors looked heavy and were painted a dull white. From beyond them came the sound Leo followed.

  Leo walked slowly forward and put his ear to the cold steel. He closed his eyes and listened. He could hear bad seventies disco playing from a desk. Someone was speaking into a phone, chuckling at every other word.

  In a low voice, Leo said, “I can hear you crying.”

  The sobbing stopped.

  For a moment, there were only the sounds of music and the phone call.

  Then the lamentations began again.

  “I can hear you,” Leo repeated.

  And the crying stopped.

  Leo heard footsteps which he knew no one else could.

  They were soft, light steps, as though the person was young and wore slippers.

  “Can you really hear me?” a young man asked.