by A. R. Wise
314
( Widowsfield Trilogy - 1 )
A. R. Wise
Alma Harper has been trying to forget what happened in Widowsfield 16 years ago. She has a good life as a music teacher now, and might rekindle her relationship with her one true love. However, the number 314 haunts her, and threatens to bring her back to the day that her brother disappeared. When a reporter shows up, just days before March 14th, Alma realizes that her past is coming back to haunt her. What happened on March 14th, at 3:14, 16 years ago? No one but The Skeleton Man can remember.
A.R. Wise
314
PART ONE: THE SERPENT’S COIL
CHAPTER ONE
It Begins Again
Widowsfield
March 14th, 1996
“It’s going to happen in three minutes.”
Mark Tapper sat on the edge of his son’s bed and tried to comfort the eight-year-old. He considered calling an ambulance, but he didn’t know if what Jeremy was suffering from qualified as an emergency. He decided to wait for his wife to get home, since she’d be there in just a few minutes anyhow. She’d left work early when the school called, but Mark was able to get to Widowsfield Elementary to pick Jeremy up first.
“What’s going to happen in three minutes?” Mark glanced at the clock on the nightstand that displayed 3:11 on the stomach of a Batman figurine.
“I told you,” said Jeremy. The desperation in his voice terrified Mark. “The Skeleton Man’s coming.”
“I don’t know what that means, kiddo. Help me out here.” Mark tried to wipe sweat from his boy’s brow, but Jeremy jerked away as if frightened by contact. “Who’s this Skeleton Man you keep talking about?”
“He’s coming, and then everyone’s going to go crazy. Dad, I don’t want to kill you again.”
The statement was more than a little disconcerting. Mark stood up and put his hands on his head in exasperation as he stared down at his quivering child. He’d tried to stay calm through all of his son’s outbursts, but he couldn’t take it anymore. “That does it. Mom can meet us at the hospital. Do you think you can walk, or do you want me to call an ambulance?” This manic episode confounded the school nurse, and it was getting worse the longer it went on. When Mark picked his son up from school, Jeremy had simply been crying, but now his mania had gone from concerning to disturbing.
“There’s no time. I can already hear his teeth.” Jeremy looked at his father and chattered his teeth, as if he was freezing cold. Then he looked at the clock and they both saw the time change.
3:12
Jeremy put his hands under his pillow and bunched it up so the sides covered his ears. He clenched his eyes shut and continued to weep. “You should just kill yourself. Make it easy. Just shoot yourself in the head and get it over with. You can’t handle what’s coming. No one can.”
Mark was frantic now. His hands were shaking and he rushed out of the room to compose himself. The last thing Jeremy needed to see was his father breaking down. Mark felt helpless and terrified. Something was happening to his son, and he had no idea how to fix it. When he’d been called in by the school he expected to hear that his son had thrown up, or got in a fight, or anything other than this. Jeremy had never shown signs of a mental disorder and Mark was utterly unprepared for what was happening. He broke down after he closed his son’s door, but there was no time to weep. He rushed down the stairs to get the phone and call 911.
The cord on the kitchen phone stretched long enough to accommodate his pacing as he listened to the automated voice tell him that his call would be taken in the order it was received. He glanced at the green numbers displayed on the microwave’s clock.
3:13
“Widowsfield County 911,” said a woman’s voice on the phone. “What is your emergency?” She sounded elderly, and kind, immediately affable.
Mark didn’t know where to start. “Hi, my name’s Mark Tapper.”
“Howdy, Mark,” said the operator. “What’s your emergency?”
He’d been struggling to answer that question himself, and had trouble relaying it to her. “It’s my son, Jeremy. I got a call from his school because he was having a, like, I guess a mental breakdown or something. I don’t really know. I had to pick him up early from school because he was crying and talking about how someone named The Skeleton Man is coming.” He chuckled out of nervousness and felt embarrassed for it.
The clock held steady at 3:13, seconds from the time that Jeremy had been panicked about.
“It’s okay, sir. We can get someone out there if you’d like.”
Mark stared at the clock, dreading the coming change.
“Sir?” she asked after he didn’t respond. “What’s your address?”
It changed.
3:14
Nothing happened and Mark breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t know why he was so scared. “Sorry, what was that?”
The operator didn’t respond.
“Hello?” asked Mark.
She gurgled on the other line, a wet, throaty expulsion of sound, as if the woman had started to choke. Then he heard a shrill scream. Someone else in the operator’s office had become frightened. The gurgling continued.
“Hello?” Mark asked again and looked at the phone as if expecting to be able to see what was wrong. He pushed in the wire that connected the phone to the base on the wall to make sure it hadn’t fallen loose.
He was in the kitchen when he caught sight of the green fog outside. It had been a gorgeous Spring day just moments earlier, but there was no sign of sunlight now. The town had been blanketed in fog that glowed as if illuminated deep within by a pulsing green light. Mark took tremulous steps toward the window above the sink. The phone went dead, and he let it drop to the floor where the cord pulled it skittering backward across the tile.
“Holy fuck,” said Mark as he leaned over the sink.
The fog was thick enough to cloud his view of the houses across the street. Even the Oak tree in the front yard was hazed. Waves of green light flashed within the fog, as if he were watching electricity roll out from some machine within. It crackled and coursed along metallic objects, giving shape to things lost in the mist.
Then he saw a man lean out from behind the tree. The fog was too thick to see any details, but the stranger was very tall and thin, and he retreated back behind the tree as soon as Mark saw him.
“Dad,” said Jeremy from upstairs. He didn’t sound panicked anymore.
“Yeah, Jeremy,” said Mark as he backed away from the window. He wanted to go out and confront the stranger, but was afraid of the mist and still concerned for his son. “Are you okay?”
Jeremy didn’t answer.
He heard small, light footsteps running across the floor upstairs, headed down the hall from the bathroom to Jeremy’s room.
Mark stopped staring out the window and ran to reach Jeremy. He bounded up the stairs and was confronted by his son at the threshold of his room.
“Jeremy,” said Mark as he paused at the top of the stairs. “Do you know what’s going on?” He asked as if afraid his son was somehow responsible for what had happened outside.
“I tried to warn you.”
Jeremy held a straight razor to his own throat.
“Buddy, put that down.” Mark took a tentative step, like a cop approaching a suicidal man.
Jeremy looked at the blade and smiled. “This isn’t for me, Dad. It’s for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Skeleton Man’s here, and he taught me how to hate.”
“Put the razor down, Jeremy.” Mark’s authoritative tone was beleaguered by fear.
The razor reflected green light from a nearby window. “We’re going to try something new this time. The Skeleton Man saw something that he wants t
o try on you.” Jeremy giggled, as if talking about something cute a puppy had done. “He’s so excited. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but if you take another step then we won’t have a choice. He’ll slit my throat just to watch you cry.”
“What’s going on, Jeremy? Who’s the Skeleton Man? How did you know that something was going to happen at 3:14?”
“I think we’ve done this before,” said Jeremy. “I think we’ve been doing it for years.” He seemed confused, but then shrugged off his uncertainty. “We’ll keep doing it until we get it right, I suppose. Do you want to hear what we’re planning for you?”
“I just want you to put the razor down.”
Jeremy looked down at his father’s feet and pressed the razor harder against his own throat. “Don’t do it, Daddy.”
Mark retreated a step and held his hands out. “Okay, Jeremy. Okay, I’m backing up. Now just put the razor down. Can you do that for me?”
“Dad, I told you, this isn’t for me. It’s for you. He’s only going to hurt me if you don’t do what he says. Don’t you get it?”
“No!” Mark’s terror overwhelmed him. “I don’t get it, Jeremy. Please tell me what’s going on.”
Jeremy nodded, his cherub visage turned wicked by the blade he held to his own throat. “The Skeleton Man wants me to put you in the bathtub, and then we’re going to pour boiling water over you until we can peel your skin off.”
“What?” Mark’s question escaped as a whimpering whisper.
“And if you can stay awake, then we’ll pour the chemicals on you.” Jeremy grinned. “It’s going to be a lot of fun, Dad. And you want to know the best part?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “You’re going to let us do it. You know why?”
Mark didn’t know what to do other than comply with his son’s insanity. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t then I’ll slit my throat. You can either die like we want you to, or watch me kill myself. Daddy, I don’t want to die; I know how much it hurts. So you’re going to have to do what we tell you. Okay?”
The front door opened. Mark didn’t want to turn and look, fearing that if he took his eyes off Jeremy then his son might hurt himself. He hoped that his wife had come home, or that the 911 dispatcher had been able to track the location of the call and send police. Instead, he heard several light footsteps running through the house, followed by the happy chatter of children.
“My friends are here,” said Jeremy. “They’ll start boiling the water. Are you ready for your bath?”
“What the hell is going on?”
“My best guess,” said Jeremy as he glanced up. “God gave up on us.”
Mark thought about rushing his son to steal the razor from him, but Jeremy seemed to anticipate this and pressed it harder to his throat. The blade sliced the boy’s skin and Jeremy winced as blood coursed down the black handle.
Jeremy’s eyes welled with tears. “Please don’t kill me, Dad! I told you, I don’t want to die. All the Daddies hate their babies!”
“Put the razor down!”
“Don’t come any closer,” said Jeremy. Blood dripped off his knuckles. “This hurts! I’m scared.” It was as if it were someone else holding the knife to Jeremy’s throat.
“Okay! Okay!” Mark backed up a step.
Jeremy relaxed the blade, but the small cut continued to bleed as the boy cried. “You need to go get in the bathtub. Please? Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
“This is insane,” said Mark. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s what The Skeleton Man wants.”
“Who the hell is The Skeleton Man?”
Pots and pans rattled as they were taken out of the cabinets downstairs. Mark could hear the children laugh as they filled them with water. He heard them trying to work the microwave as well.
“He’s the man in the mist,” said Jeremy. “He’s the one that keeps the children safe. He’s our only friend. Without him, we’d be as lost as you, and none of us want that.”
“Safe from what?” Mark was in the bathroom now, edging backward as his son stayed out of arm’s reach.
“All the ones that came with him. The ones that will poison you unless we stop it from happening. You’ll turn evil, like you did all the other times. We can’t let that happen. The Skeleton Man showed us what the Daddies do.”
“What other times?” The bathroom was small, with a porcelain tub that took up the opposite side. The toilet and sink sat between the tub and the door where Jeremy stood with the razor still pressed against his neck. Mark backed into the tub and staggered. He grabbed the plastic shower curtain to steady himself and two of the rings that held it up snapped loose. He fell to a seated position on the edge of the tub.
Jeremy shook his head as if he felt sorry for his father’s ignorance. “All the other times we tried to save you. You’re one of the dead ones. There’s no saving you, but you can still save me.”
Mark felt helpless. He was a big guy, over 220 pounds, and he worked out in the basement every night. His job kept him fit as well, and he prided himself on his physique. However, none of his strength could help him now. He often said that he loved his son more than life itself, but now he was being forced to prove it.
“You’ve lost your mind, Jeremy. Something’s wrong with you. Trust me, I’d never hurt you.” He started to stand back up and reach out to his son.
Jeremy reacted as if his father was threatening to strike him. His eyes grew wide and he moved back as he yelled. “You’re hurting me now! Can’t you see that? Look at my blood, Daddy! You’re killing me.”
“Stop it, Jeremy.” Mark cried out, but didn’t dare to move forward.
Jeremy dug the blade into his neck and cringed in pain as he shouted for mercy. “Daddy, don’t hurt me like this! Please don’t hurt me.”
“Okay, Jeremy, tell me what I have to do. Tell me what you want.”
“Get in the tub, Dad!”
Mark stepped into the bathtub with his arms outstretched as if to ensure Jeremy that he was being submissive. “Okay, I’m in. Now put the razor down.”
“Take your shirt off,” said Jeremy with the razor still pressed to his bleeding throat.
Mark did as he was told and tossed the shirt to the floor. A chill came over him as a waft of green fog trailed across the hallway behind Jeremy.
“You can’t expect me to just sit here and let this happen,” said Mark.
“If you don’t, then the Skeleton Man is going to make you watch me kill myself. Is that what you want?”
“I’m not going to let that happen,” said Mark. He got angrier the longer this went on.
Jeremy stepped back and leaned to the side as if listening to someone in the hall. Then he came back into the bathroom. “If you step out of the tub, or try to knock away the pots of water, then I’m going to kill myself. It’s important that you know that. You have to do as you’re told, Dad. Okay? Do you understand?”
“No, God damn it! No, I don’t understand, Jeremy. Why are you doing this? Please just put the razor down.”
“We’ve tried to let you live before, but The Skeleton Man was right about you,” said Jeremy. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his elbow. “This is the only way we can save the children. It has to start with the Daddies dying.”
“Then why are you going to boil me? Why did you say that you’re going to strip my flesh and pour chemicals on me? Don’t you think this Skeleton Man is the evil one? Buddy, I’m your Dad, you’ve got to trust me.”
“No,” said Jeremy. “I’ve made that mistake before. There’s only one person that I trust now, and we’re going to do this the way he wants.”
A pair of cautious footsteps came from the hall. Mark heard water slosh over the side of a container and hit the floor as two children yelped in surprise.
“Be careful,” said one of the high pitched voices.
“I am, you be careful,” said the other.
Jeremy stepped into the hall so his friends could come in. Mark recognized the two boys that carried the water. They lived in the neighborhood, although he didn’t know their names. They wore oven mitts and carried a large Pyrex bowl filled with steaming water between them.
“We got this one from the micowaver,” said the younger of the two boys. His childish wording belied his horrific intention as he waddled into the room. Water spilled over the side and the boy swiftly moved his barefoot to keep the water from burning him. Both of the boys had muddy feet that left tracks across the linoleum as they approached.
“Don’t you dare,” said Mark. He backed into the corner of the tub and knocked over a bottle of shampoo as he did. “You get away from me with that.”
The two boys stopped and looked back at Jeremy as if to ask what they should do. Jeremy looked at his father, disappointed. “Don’t fight this, Dad. You need to sit down and let them pour the water on you.”
“Fuck that,” said Mark. He tried his best to avoid cursing in front of his son, but the current situation absolved that concern.
“You want to watch me die?” asked Jeremy.
“No, of course not,” said Mark. “But I’m not going to sit here and let your little friends pour boiling water on me either. This is crazy.” He stared at the bowl instead of looking at Jeremy. The water wasn’t bubbling, but he had no doubt it was searing hot. He was familiar with how water heated in a microwave doesn’t bubble, but can still get hotter than water boiled on a stove.
“What happens if you die?” asked one of the boys of Jeremy. Then he looked at Mark and added, “What if he tries to fight back?”
“Then the Skeleton Man will slaughter all of us and start over.” Jeremy spoke with utter certainty, as if this was a possibility he’d known for years and had come to accept. “My Daddy will have killed us all.”
“Fuck this, Jeremy,” said Mark. “You’ve gone insane. This is crazy!”
“Just throw it on him.” Jeremy spoke like a callous war criminal instructing his soldiers to execute a prisoner.