by Amy Cross
After a while, I grab our stuff from the bedroom and head out into the town square, pausing to make sure the doors of the hotel are properly closed. We've only been in Devil's Briar for a few days, but it feels strange to be leaving. Trudging through the snow, I decide to get the team together as quickly as possible; with any luck, we can be back here inside of a week, and hopefully I can pull up enough emergency funding to give us at least a month's window to fully explore and document the site. Meanwhile, it'll be good to get back to Boston and try to unearth a little more information about Devil's Briar.
When I reach the truck, I see that not only has Paula managed to clear away the snow, she's also crawled under the vehicle to patch up the gas tank. Maybe I'm a little old-fashioned, but I'm always kind of surprised and impressed when I'm reminded of Paula's ability to get a job done. I pause for a moment, watching as she crawls out from under the truck.
"All done?" I ask.
"All done," she replies, grabbing the gas can and carefully filling the tank.
"I was thinking about getting a team back up here next week," I say, hoping to get a conversation going. "I thought maybe Ed and a few of the others. I'd like you to come as well."
She shakes her head.
"Paula, this is a huge opportunity," I continue. "Don't be stubborn -"
"I'm not stubborn," she says as she finishes pouring the gas. "I just don't want to come back here."
"You don't want to come back here at all?" I ask. "Or you don't want to come back here with me?"
She walks around to the driver's side. "I'll read your report with interest when it's eventually published," she says, wiping some more snow off the windscreen. "I'm sure it'll create quite a stir."
"You could help write that report," I say.
She shakes her head again. "You ready?" she says, finally making eye contact with me. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."
I pause, thinking about how awkward and uncomfortable it'll be to be cooped up in the truck with her for such a long journey. This isn't the first time Paula has said she wants to leave me, but she seems to be taking it to an extreme level this time. Frankly, I'm starting to get sick of the way she uses the threat of divorce to get concessions out of me. It's as if she thinks she knows how to press all my buttons.
"Bill?" she says. "We need to get going."
I take a deep breath. Getting into the truck with her would seem like an admission of defeat. I've always prided myself on being strong, and sticking to my guns. If I go with her now, she'll think she's won. The last thing I want to do is to be some kind of cloth man, changing direction as soon as the wind shifts. "No," I say. "I'm going to stay."
She stares at me. "Are you serious?"
I nod. "Think about it, Paula. If we go back to Boston, it'll take us weeks to get funding in place for a proper expedition, maybe even months. They won't believe us when we tell them about this place. Even the photos won't do it justice. But if I'm here, someone'll have to come up and take a look, and they might as well bring the right equipment. If I stay, we'll force the board of trustees' hands and make them take action." I shrug at the simplicity of the whole idea. "Tell Ed to get his butt in gear and get up here. Tell him to bring every bit of kit he can fit into his truck. Tell him I'll be waiting." I step over to the truck and put the backpack into the passenger seat. "Tell him to do some research into the names in those documents, and tell him to bring some equipment that'll let us get online while we're here. And tell him to hurry."
"You're insane," Paula says.
"I'm not giving this place up," I reply. "I'm not having someone else decide when and how it gets explored. This is my discovery. I mean... it's our discovery, Paula. Ours, together. We're the ones who get to be in charge. We're the ones who get to uncover the truth about Devil's Briar, and we're the ones who get to find all the answers."
"Stop acting like I'm part of this," she says. "I'm out, and you're mad to think you can stay here. You don't have any equipment. You don't even have any food!"
"I have the canned meat you found, and I don't think water's going to be a problem." I smile. "Tell Ed to get up here as fast as he can. I'm going to go through each of the buildings, one by one, documenting what I find. Good old-fashioned dirty work, like they used to do before everyone got obsessed with machines and computers. You can't change my mind, Paula. I'm staying."
She sighs. "Fine," she says, getting into the truck and pulling the doors shut. She turns the key in the ignition, and the engine stutters for a moment before finally starting up. "You're a fucking idiot," she says, barely even looking at me, "and if you think I'll be waiting for you when you get back to Boston, you're wrong. Good luck with everything." She pauses for a moment. "Goodbye, Bill."
"Tell Ed to hurry," I reply. Stepping back, I watch as she turns the truck around and drives away, the plow doing a good job of clearing the snow in her way. She's set for a long, lonely drive back to the motel, and then the journey on to Boston, but it's important that she gets word back to Ed and the others about what we've found. It shouldn't be more than a week before support arrives in Devil's Briar, and until then I can really get on with some good work. Turning and walking back into the town itself, I realize that I'm quite looking forward to having this time alone. I've always preferred working by myself, getting lost in my work and spending hours and hours exploring a project. Over the next week, I should be able to operate on just five or six hours' sleep a night, which gives me at least a hundred hours of pure, solid, uninterrupted work. Damn it, this actually feels pretty good.
Just as I'm about to reach the town square, I see something standing in the street. Stopping, I realize it's a woman. She's wearing old-fashioned, 1920s clothing, and she's staring straight at me with a sorrowful look in her eyes. Feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I stare straight back at her and I realize that she seems to have some kind of injury on her face, like a gash that has cut through the skin. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that she's just a hallucination. It's natural that the human brain, when faced with a mystery, will try to fill in the gaps. In this case, my brain has obviously paid too much attention to Paula's superstitious talk of ghosts, and the result is that I'm imagining this woman standing in front of me. Most people would be fooled, and would run screaming, but I know better and - thankfully - I'm able to quash any panic. Reminding myself once again that the woman is just the product of my mind, I walk straight past her and head toward the hotel. I don't look back to see if she's still looking at me; if I looked back, I'd be allowing myself to consider the possibility that she's real. There's no such thing as ghosts, and I have enough will-power to ensure that I don't 'crack' and start believing in such stupid things. I'm alone here in Devil's Briar, and that's just how I like it.
Epilogue
1925.
"Gentlemen," says Mr. Paternoster, standing next to the door to Mayor Caster's office and addressing the small crowd of a dozen or so dignitaries who have gathered at his request, "it gives me no pleasure to have to call you here today, but I'm sure you all recognize that an untenable situation has developed. Unfortunately, for reasons that have yet to be ascertained, it would seem that Albert Caster is no longer able to function as Mayor of Devil's Briar. We have waited for him to emerge from his delirium, but for the good of the community I feel we must act. To this end, I have asked you all here to witness Dr. Collings' assessment of Mr. Caster, so that we can decide upon our next step together." He turns to me. "Dr. Collings, I'd like to thank you for agreeing to this course of action, especially at such a difficult time."
"Of course," I say, glancing over at Victoria Paternoster. Tomorrow morning, the delightful young lady will begin working for me in my household, and it's hard to keep my mind off the thought that soon I shall be in a position to ask her uncle for her hand in marriage.
"I will now force open the door to Mayor Caster's office," Mr. Paternoster announces. "It seems to have been locked and barricaded from the inside. I should warn you al
l that Mayor Caster himself might be in a state of some disrepair. Anyone of a sensitive disposition should perhaps excuse themselves." He turns to Victoria. "My dear, I do not think a lady should witness such an event."
Nodding politely, Victoria leaves the room.
It takes Mr. Paternoster a few moments to pick the lock on the office door, although he completes the task with suspicious ease. I can't help wondering where he learned to perform such an action, but that is a question for another day.
"Don't come in!" shouts a voice from inside the office.
"We're here to help you!" Mr. Paternoster replies firmly. "Remove the barricade immediately!"
"You can't come in here!" Mayor Caster shouts. "I've told you before! You can't come in!"
"Don't talk nonsense, man," Mr. Paternoster says, trying to force the door. "This situation simply cannot be allowed to continue. For your sake, as well as the sake of the town in general, we must get these doors open."
"No!" Mayor Caster shouts. "I've told him!" he mutters, as if he's talking to someone else.
"Does he have someone in there with him?" asks Andreas Dixon, standing next to me.
"No," I reply. "The man has clearly descended into a type of madness in which he imagines companions. It's a very sad situation, and I can't imagine what has caused him to become so troubled."
"He was once such a strong man," adds David Haynes.
"Can someone help me?" Mr. Paternoster says, turning to us. "I'm afraid this door is proving rather more difficult to get open than I had imagined."
Stepping back, I let some of the younger men move forward and add their weight to the struggle. After a few attempts, they finally manage to get the door pushed open, at which point we are all greeted by the most horrific odor. It's quite plain that Mayor Caster, in his madness, has taken to defecating in his office, and the smell reminds me of the time I visited a patient who lived on a pig farm. It's hard to believe that a man such as Albert Caster could have allowed himself to deteriorate to the point where he acts like a common animal, but there is no escaping the conclusion that he has spent the past few days living in absolute squalor.
"Get him out of here!" Mr. Paternoster calls out, holding a handkerchief to his nose. Moments later, a couple of the men drag Albert Caster out of the office. The old fool is weeping and wailing, and his physical condition is shocking: he is completely naked and covered in his own revolting filth, and he has open sores on several parts of his body. As the men deposit Caster on the floor in front of me, I take a step back, barely able to take in the awful smell.
"Let me back in there!" Caster screams, trying to get to his feet before Andreas Dixon pushes him back down with his foot.
"I can't watch this," says Henry Porter, turning and walking out of the room.
"Dr. Collings," says Mr. Paternoster, "I'm not sure that I really need to ask this question, but for the sake of formality I suppose that I must. Can you give us a pronouncement on the subject of Mayor Caster's physical and mental health. Is he fit to continue his duties as Mayor of Devil's Briar?"
"He most certainly is not," I say firmly. "This man would be best served by being placed in some kind of asylum. Failing that, he must certainly be segregated from the rest of the community for as long as this madness persists."
"Can you give him the treatment he so desperately requires?" Mr. Paternoster asks.
I nod. "I can try to help him, but his condition is so poor that I cannot guarantee that I will have any success."
"All we ask is that you try," Mr. Paternoster says. "Shall I have him taken to your office?"
"Yes," I say, "but first, take him to the edge of town and have him cleaned. I will not tolerate him anywhere near my establishment while he is so utterly filthy."
"Very good," Mr. Paternoster replies. "Mr. Dixon, would you be able to do as Dr. Collings asks?"
"Of course," Dixon says, and he and two other men start dragging Albert Caster out of the room. It's quite appalling to see the state of the man, and to hear his muttering and moaning. He has quite lost his mind, and although I am always keen to embrace a challenge, I feel that his salvation is beyond the means of any man. The most that can be said of Albert Caster at this particular point in time is that he will make a useful subject for some experiments. I have long been fascinated by mental illness, and I fully intend to perform some psychiatric tests on him before - if necessary - cutting into his head in order to test out a few theories that I have developed on the matter.
"Gentlemen," Mr. Paternoster continues, "I shall have this office scoured until it is clean again. In the meantime, although I am a little reluctant to do so, I am proposing that perhaps I should assume Mr. Caster's responsibilities for a short period before a proper election can be held. I am loathe to presume such a position, but I fear that the town would suffer if anyone else were to take the role. Dr. Collings, you would be the best choice, but Devil's Briar cannot afford to lose its only doctor."
"I second the appointment of Mr. Paternoster," I say. "I also propose that elections are held within one month."
"Are there any objections?" Mr. Paternoster asks. He pauses for a moment, and is met by silence. "Then I shall humbly accept this temporary position," he says, "and I shall promise to fulfill the role to the absolute best of my abilities. I can assure you that I do not take these responsibilities lightly, nor do I want anyone to think that I will lack enthusiasm. I have only recently arrived in Devil's Briar, but I intend to call the place my home and I believe that every man should give more to his community than he takes."
"I shall prepare my office for Caster's arrival," I say, turning and walking out of the room. To be truthful, I do not think I can stomach any more of Mr. Paternoster's sanctimonious drivel. The man talks far too much, but he does at least seem to have a sense of propriety. While I pursue his daughter, I shall endeavor to keep on his good side.
Stopping suddenly as I'm about to step outside, I see a figure standing in front of me. My dear, late daughter Catherine stares into my eyes, and I realize I am in the presence of some kind of specter. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that such things are trifling fancies, and that no man of intelligence would ever believe such visions to be real. Ignoring the spirit's attentions, I turn and walk across the town square, stepping carefully through the snow. Finally, I glance back and see that the image of Catherine has disappeared. Feeling a sense of relief, I realize that the whole thing must have been merely a product of my imagination. The girl is dead, and her soul is burning in Hell. Resuming the journey to my office, I realize that the day has turned out rather well: not only do I have an attractive new housekeeper coming to work for me, but I also have the opportunity to study the mind and body of a man who has become quite insane. Surely, the Lord is smiling upon me today and the future is bright.
Book 4:
Fingernails
Prologue
The man was here again today. I don't know what he's doing, but he seems interested in sifting through all the dirt and dust. What does he hope to find? I stand and watch him, but mostly he ignores me. It's almost as if he doesn't know that I'm here, except... occasionally his eyes dart briefly toward me, and I know I'm in his field of vision. He wants to ignore me, but he can't quite manage to do it. Sometimes I even reach out a hand and touch his shoulder, and I'm quite certain he feels it, but he refuses to look around and acknowledge me. He wants to pretend that I don't exist, or that I exist only in his mind, and he'll go to great lengths to maintain this illusion. I suppose he thinks that, by doing so, he can save himself from going mad. And so he continues with his work, pretending all the while that he is alone in this place, when we all know - and even he knows, in the back of his mind - that he is among the dead.
Chapter One
1925
"I like my breakfast to be ready for 8am," Dr. Collings says, standing in the doorway as I look around the kitchen. "Eggs are acceptable, with a strong coffee. Lunch should be some kind of sandwich, while dinner s
hould be meat and vegetables. I also like to have a whiskey prepared and waiting for me when I return from my duties at around 5pm every day. There are other rules, but we shall get to those in due course. I hope for now that my requirements are clear."
Smiling, I run my hand along the surface of the table, finding it to be rather coarse. The kitchen, like the whole house, is small and dark, with very little natural light coming in through the window. As I continue to get used to my new surroundings, I'm very aware that the doctor is staring at me.
"Victoria?" Dr. Collings says. "Did you hear what I said?"
"Of course," I reply, turning to him. I must remain focused on my work. "I'm a very quick learner, Dr. Collings, and I'm sure I'll have a good understanding of your schedule within a couple of days."
"That will be fine," he says. "I don't expect immediate perfection, but I would like to see that you're making an effort. After all, your current role is in some ways an audition for any other positions that might arise in my household."
"Other positions?" I ask. "I wasn't aware of any other positions..."
"Never mind," he says, smiling. "For now, please busy yourself with the work of finding your way about. Between meal-times, you can of course get on with cleaning the place, and there will also be a need to go to the shop for supplies. On Mondays, I like to take a bath, but I can explain that procedure soon enough. There is also..." He pauses, as if he has an awkward matter to broach. "For the moment," he continues, "Catherine's body remains in the pantry. I am still making arrangements for her burial in an unmarked plot just outside of town, so she should be gone within a day or two. There is nothing to worry about, though. You can merely leave the coffin alone. It does not require your attention."