by Amy Cross
As I turn to limp over to the corner where I'm planning to sleep, I glance down at Natalie and see, to my surprise, that she's awake and staring up at me.
"Hey," I say. "Sorry, did we wake you?"
She doesn't say anything.
"You okay?" I ask a little nervously.
"Do you want to break the window open?" she asks suddenly.
"Do I..." I pause for a moment. "Well, yeah, but -"
"Do you want to try?"
I stare at her, and something about her determined stare makes me think that perhaps she's got an idea. I still haven't quite worked out what I think about Natalie, but I guess it's worth listening to what she has to say. Right now, I don't exactly have any other options.
"How do you think we can do it?" I ask.
"The same way we broke the perspex," she continues.
"That was just an accident," I reply.
"No," she says. "It wasn't." Her voice sounds tense now, as if she's scared. Her eyes keep darting across the room, as if she's worried that we're going to be interrupted. I don't blame her. Elizabeth can be pretty intimidating, and Natalie's by far the most timid and nervous person I've ever met. I can't help wondering if she was the same way before she came to the basement, or whether her time down here has changed her.
"Maybe we should think about this tomorrow," I say, starting to think that anything involving Natalie is just going to be a dead end. I don't think I've got the energy to deal with her at the moment. When we broke the perspex the other day, it was probably just a fluke.
She looks across the room, as if she's worried that we might be overheard. "Elizabeth doesn't like me talking about it," she whispers after a moment, "but I know what really happened. We can do it again. I tried before, but I wasn't strong enough. One is weak. Two can be a little stronger. But with three of us, we might have a chance. I really think we can do this if we just focus and practice."
"I don't..." Crouching down next to Natalie, I pause for a moment. "Natalie, what doesn't Elizabeth like you talking about?"
"How the window got broken," she replies, with a hint of fear in her voice. "I know what we did. After you went upstairs, she made me promise not to tell you, but I know how to do it again, not only to the window but to the bars and other things." She leans a little closer. "I can show you how the power works."
Ben Lawler
Today
"You need to knock down the house on Willow Road," I say, standing in Mayor Jefferson Jones' office. "You need to knock it down today, and then you need to put concrete over the top and make sure no-one ever goes out there again."
Sitting at his desk, Jones stares at me with a curious expression on his face. An elderly man with a twinkle in his eye and the easy confidence of someone who wallows in corruption, he seems to find me amusing. I kind of expected this when I demanded to see him today, and I don't really have a plan; I just know that I need to persuade him to get the house destroyed. I hate Jones with a passion, but right now he's the only man with the power to end this nightmare.
"It needs to be torn down," I continue.
"Does it?"
"It should have happened years ago." I wait for him to reply, but he seems content to just stare at me. It's pretty obvious that he's already decided to disagree with everything I say, which just adds to my suspicion that he's got some kind of plan for the house. "It's a disgrace that it's still standing," I continue. "That place should have been demolished as soon as those women were out."
"Well," he says with a smile, "that's certainly one way of looking at it."
"I know this is going to sound a little strange," I say, "but I'm just going to come out and say it. Something's going on out there. Whatever you want to call it, it's killed two girls and it almost got a third. There'll be more."
"Two girls?" he asks, frowning. "I didn't know about two girls."
"Brenda Baynes was found almost frozen out there -"
"The homeless girl?" The smile returns to his face. "Jesus, Ben, you had me worried for a moment. No, it's fine, the homeless girl just died of exposure. There was a coroner's report and everything. I mean, come on, being homeless isn't exactly good for the constitution, is it? It's a miracle she lasted as long as she did, sleeping rough and traveling from state to state by foot."
"She had a cut on her -"
"She died of exposure," he continues, interrupting me. "You're not a medical examiner, Ben, and neither am I. As Mayor, one of my duties is to defer judgment in areas where there are other people who are more qualified to make a decision. In this case, I'm relying on the report prepared for me by medical experts, and I'm not gonna start second-guessing them. If there was anything untoward about the homeless girl's death, I'm sure they would've flagged it up. After all, they've got no reason to cover it up."
"Samantha Briggs was in a bath of ice when I found her," I reply. "There was a deep cut on her leg, and I'm certain that someone removed a piece of bone."
"Aren't you jumping the gun a little?"
"She was in an ice bath," I continue. "Are you suggesting she set it all up herself and then climbed in?"
"I'm not suggesting that."
"Then someone did it to her. Someone put her in that thing, just like someone put those other women in ice baths all those years ago."
"Well, that all sounds a little unlikely," he says. "The monster who kidnapped and tortured those poor women is, thankfully, no longer with us. Unless you're suggesting that there's a copycat -"
"I was there this morning," I remind him. "I saw it. I pulled her out of the damn thing, and when Samantha wakes up, you can ask her yourself. She'll be able to tell us what happened between the moment she went into the house and the moment I found her."
"If she wakes up," he replies. "I've been hearing some very worrying things about that poor girl's condition today, Ben. The doctors aren't as confident as they were before. When the body's temperature drops too far, it's not a simple matter to just get things going again. I'm afraid there's a chance she might never come around."
"She..." I pause for a moment. "If she dies..."
"Let's look on the bright side," he continues. "Let's hang together in tough times and have a little hope in our hearts. I don't know about you, Ben, but I truly believe that this community is strong and resilient." He stares at me, almost as if he's trying to figure me out. "You do believe in the strength of our community, don't you? I sure hope you share my faith in the people around here. We will get through this difficult period in our lives, and we will emerge stronger, and healthier, and pointed in the right direction for a prosperous future."
"You sound like one of your leaflets," I say flatly.
"It's just the way I see the world," he replies, flashing me a sparkling grin.
"Why not just demolish the house?" I ask.
He laughs. "You think that'd do the trick? Just knock it down and pretend it never existed?"
"I think it'd be a start. It'd be good not to have the place sitting around as a reminder." I pause, trying to work out what Jones is thinking. It's as if he's got a reason to keep the house standing, but he's not willing to explain himself fully and I can't shake the feeling that he's hiding something. After all, Mayor Jefferson Jones is the kind of man who always follows the money. Something's going on in the background here.
"Let me tell you what I think," he continues. "I think that house is a scar on this community. No arguments there, Ben. None at all. I also think the events that took place out there all those years ago have had a profound and lasting effect on all the people in this town. In a way, some of them are still grieving the loss of our collective innocence. However, I don't think we can accelerate the healing process by just bulldozing the place. That wouldn't be very subtle. Instead, Ben, we need to be smart. We need to go about this the right way, and see if we can take a negative and turn it into a positive. Are you following me?"
"With respect," I reply, "I'm not seeing your point. It's been more than a decade since
those three women were released, and nothing's happened to the house. If you were -"
"Have a little patience," he says, checking his watch again. "These things take time. I'm afraid the wheels of local government move rather slowly at times, but they are moving. Trust me, that house on Willow Road is gonna look rather different this time in a year. In fact, there's a gentleman coming to see me this afternoon who might be able to help us out. If you wanna hang around, you can hear his plans."
"What plans?"
"Exciting plans, Ben. Very, very exciting plans. We're gonna heal this town's wounds, and we're gonna build for the future at the same time."
I pause, realizing that there's definitely something happening behind the scenes. Jones has a plan, and that house seems to be at the center of the whole thing. Knowing Jones, I'm pretty sure I won't like whatever he's cooking up.
"Do you know what I think you should do?" he continues. "I think you should go home and relax. I think you should go put your feet up and forget about this whole thing. I'm sure the police will realize that you didn't do anything wrong, and I'm sure I can help straighten things out with Principal Roberts. I heard he's suspended you. Think of this as a short, unexpected vacation."
At that moment, there's a knock at the door and Jones' secretary leans through to let him know that his next appointment is about to start.
"Come on, Ben," Jones says, getting up and leading me back out into the reception area, "let me introduce you to someone."
As we reach the desk in the front office, I see that there's another man sitting on the sofa. Short, bald and tanned, he gets to his feet and rushes over to shake our hands.
"Ben," Jones continues, "this is Wilson Michaels from Los Angeles, California. Wilson's here to tell me how he's gonna change this town forever."
"It's going to be the movie event of a lifetime," Michaels says enthusiastically.
"Would you mind explaining your plans to my young friend here?" Jones asks. "He's all hot and bothered about our mutual interest."
"Do you like horror movies?" Michaels asks. "Of course you do. Everyone loves horror movies, and the best horror movies are the ones that are based on real life. Things that actually happened. That's why my company is investing fifty million dollars to bring to the screen one of the most horrific true-life cases America has ever known."
"You're not serious..." I say, turning to Jones.
"We're gonna take the story of the house on Willow Road," Michaels continues, "and we're gonna turn it into the scariest, most terrifying film that's ever been made. All the pain and the witches and everything. We're gonna shoot on location in the actual house, made up to look how it looked all those years ago, and then..." He pauses, as if the excitement is almost too much for him to contain. "Once we've finished filming, we're going to refit the house with a state-of-the-art cinema, and that's where we're going to hold the world premiere. Can you imagine seeing a movie based on real events, and actually being in the real location while you're watching?"
"And once the movie's out," Mayor Jones adds, "we'll have the house up and running as a permanent memorial to the events that happened there. People are gonna come from all over the country to watch the movie in the house, and to explore a tasteful, tactful and respectful exhibition dedicated to the awful events that happened. It's my profound hope that by confronting the horror of that house, we can heal our community." He pauses for a moment. "As you yourself have pointed out, Ben, we can't keep hiding from what happened and ignoring it. We have to face it, deal with it, and embrace it."
"I can't name any names," Michaels continues, "but we could be getting some pretty big names to play the three main witches."
"Witches?" I say, shocked that all of this could be happening.
"Well," Michaels replies, "the rumors are part of the story -"
"They weren't witches," I point out. "That was just media bullshit. They were three women who lived through a nightmare."
"I don't think Ben understands how the entertainment industry works," Jones says with a smile.
"You can't make this movie," I say. "There's no way you can go ahead with this. You can't turn that house into some kind of tourist attraction."
"We have all the rights signed up," Michaels replies. "Obviously we'll be changing a few names in order to avoid lawsuits from the women, plus we'll be adding some tasteful, contextualized scenes of horror, and we'll be exploring some of the rumors concerning the events that took place, such as the alleged witchcraft and the possible lesbian elements of the -"
"Are you serious?" I ask, interrupting him. "There was no witchcraft. No-one's ever suggested any kind of lesbian or sexual elements. You're turning this into a horror movie!"
"Well... that's the plan," Michaels says, "but it'll be very tasteful."
"Ben," Mayor Jones continues, "I'm not sure you're in the right frame of mind to be discussing this right now. Perhaps you should go home and take some time to reflect. I need to have a private discussion with Mr. Michaels regarding the details of the deal, but maybe we can pick up our discussion some other time. And I can assure you that I'll be speaking to Principal Roberts later today, in order to impress upon him my absolute respect for the work you do at the school."
"This isn't going to happen," I say firmly. "You're not going to turn this into some kind of theme park." Turning, I head over to the door. I always knew that Mayor Jones had a mercenary side, but I never thought he'd actually attempt to exploit the house on Willow Road, not like this.
"Stay in touch, Ben!" Jones calls after me. "I'd really like to hear your thoughts once you've calmed down a little!"
Without replying, I head outside. Once I'm on the sidewalk, I take a deep breath and try to calm down. The thought of that house becoming a tourist attraction is horrifying, and I can't even begin to understand how Jones thinks he can get away with this. He's going to take the events that happened out on Willow Road and turn them into some kind of tacky movie, and then he thinks people are going to flock to the town so they can pay to go into the house. The worst part is, he's probably right.
Holly Carter
15 years ago
"Are you sure she's still asleep?" Natalie asks for the tenth time, glancing nervously over her shoulder.
"I promise," I reply, getting a little tired of her paranoia. So what if Elizabeth knows what we're doing? She's not in charge of everything we do down here.
"Yeah, but -" She pauses for a moment, still gripped by fear. It's as if she's scared that she might get caught, not by the guy upstairs but by Elizabeth. I guess Elizabeth has been the dominant personality down here in the basement for a long time, so it's only natural that someone as timid as Natalie would become submissive. Still, her fear seems to be bordering on paranoia.
"Natalie, show me," I continue. To be honest, I'm pretty sure that this is a waste of time, but right now I'm wired and wide awake, and Natalie's the only show in town.
"I made Elizabeth try this with me once," she says, speaking fast and letting the words tumble from her mouth. "She didn't want to do it, but I made her. It worked, too, and that's why she'd never let us talk about it again. She's scared. She saw what you're about to see, but she couldn't handle it." She takes a deep breath, her big, round eyes still fixed on me. "You're not like her, are you?"
"Me? Like Elizabeth?" I smile. "No. I hope not, anyway." I take a look back over at the other side of the basement, where Elizabeth seems to still be fast asleep. "I'm sure she was okay before she came here."
Natalie turns to look up at the window. "The perspex came loose because of the power," she says after a moment. "Not the power of people doing stuff. The power of people thinking stuff. It works better when people are angry, 'cause that's when their emotions are heightened."
"Uh-huh," I reply, starting to feel as if Natalie is simply babbling.
She glances back at Elizabeth again. "She hates it when I talk about the power, but it's all true. It's real. I knew about it before I came here, but
I've been practicing."
"Natalie -"
"Do what I do," she says suddenly, holding a hand up toward the window.
"Natalie, please -"
"Do what I do!" she says again, this time more firmly. It's clear that she believes everything she's saying.
Sighing, I hold a hand up toward the window.
"I don't understand it completely," she continues, "but watch. Just focus on the bar on the left side of the window. Focus on that bar and imagine it being pulled away."
"This is crazy," I reply. I guess I was an idiot to even entertain the notion that Natalie might be onto something here. I've only been in the basement for a day, and I'm already starting to crack up. "Natalie, maybe we should get some sleep. It must be past midnight."
"Just try it!" she hisses, looking back yet again to make sure that Elizabeth hasn't stirred. "Please, just try it once. Focus on the bar turning and flexing. Think about it being pulled out of the stonework."
Realizing that Natalie has lost her mind, I decide to just play along for a moment. After all, I guess it's not my place to start dashing her dreams, even if those dreams seem to be based on some kind of bizarre belief that we can break a set of iron bars simply with the power of our minds. I guess the incident with the perspex fed into her delusion and gave her the confidence to keep trying. I just wish I could make her see reason.
"You're not trying!" she says after a moment.
"I am!"
"You're not! I can feel it! You're not really, really trying! This'll only work if you promise to focus as hard as you can!"
Sighing, I try to concentrate on the bars. I feel kind of stupid, but the whole thing is a welcome distraction from everything else that's been happening. I just hope that I don't end up losing my mind the same way that Natalie seems to have lost hers. After five years of -
Suddenly there's a scraping sound from the bars, and I swear one of them actually seems to move slightly. Not a lot, but just enough to be noticeable.
"Did you see?" Natalie asks excitedly.