314 wt-1

by A. R. Wise

  “No, it’s okay,” said Alma. “No more secrets. I don’t care if everyone sees.”

  Stephen nodded and then opened the door. He stepped back to allow Alma the chance to walk in first.

  She only saw the room a few times in her life, but the details were burned in her memory. This was where her father would disappear for days at a time with his girlfriend. They would appear occasionally, staggering down the stairs and to the kitchen for food, but most of their days were spent in this square prison. The chemical smell of their drugs would waft out from under the door, which was one of the reasons why Ben and Alma decided to sleep downstairs instead of in the spare bedroom. They would watch their movies, with the television turned up loud enough to drown out the sound of the bed creaking when their father and Terry were having sex.

  The room was the same as it had been, with a disheveled queen bed in the center, the covers bunched up in the center. There was a dresser with a clock on it, and the time was stuck at 3:14 even though it was much later in the day. The sink was dripping in the bathroom that was attached to the master bedroom.

  There were two mannequins on the floor. One was hunched over the other, with his hands pressed inside the woman’s chest. The mannequin on the floor was battered and painted red. Its chest was cracked open and the male mannequin was reaching inside as if trying to pull the woman’s heart out. His arms and chest were splotched with red paint.

  “I need to get my camera,” said Stephen as he went back down the stairs.

  Alma felt dizzy as she stared at the depiction of murder, or cannibalism. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then the chemical smell of her father’s drugs stung her nose, like a ghost of a scent that seeped in through her frozen memories. She swatted at her nose and fell backward into Paul’s arms. He held her and tried to pull her back, out of the room, as she flailed at the air.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul was frantic. “What’s going on?”

  “Get me out!” said Alma finally. “Get me away from here.”

  “Move!” Paul commanded the others to step aside as he carried Alma to the stairs. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  “Wait,” said Stephen as he held his camera at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t leave yet. We need to wait until dark.”

  “No,” said Paul. “Fuck it. I’m taking Alma home now.”

  “Wait,” said Stephen as he stood in Paul’s way.

  Paul shoved his shoulder into Stephen. The cameraman fell backward and stumbled over the last step of the stairs. He fell and dropped his camera, which hit the floor hard. The viewfinder screen snapped off and skittered across the living room.

  “You mother fucker!” Stephen got back to his feet and was ready to charge at Paul.

  “Stop it!” Rachel grabbed her husband and tried to pull him back.

  Paul set Alma down and turned to face Stephen. “Come on then, little man. Let’s do this.”

  Alma stepped between the two of them. “Stop it, both of you! I’m okay now. I’m fine. I don’t want to leave.”

  “Yes you do, Alma,” said Paul. “Whatever happened up there scared the shit out of you.”

  “I know, but I’m okay now. I’m fine as long as I’m down here.”

  “What about my fucking camera?” asked Stephen, still incensed.

  “You should know better than to get in my way,” said Paul as he cracked his knuckles, still ready for a fight.

  “Both of you stop it,” said Alma. “We all need to settle down.”

  “Hate to interrupt,” said Aubrey from the top of the stairs, “but did you guys look in the bathroom up here? The tub’s painted red, like it was filled with blood.”

  “This place just keeps getting better and better,” said Rachel. “Do you think they’re turning this place into an amusement park? They could call it Fucked-Up-Disneyland and sell group rates.” Her joke lightened the mood and she smiled as she went to pick up the pieces of Stephen’s camera. “It’s like Jurassic Park for ghosts.”

  Stephen took the camera pieces from his wife and groaned as he looked at them. “I can probably fix it.”

  “Sorry, man,” said Paul. “This place just sets me on edge.”

  “The cabin is affecting us. I think we all just need to calm down,” said Alma. “Maybe try to get some sleep. If you guys are going to try and sneak out of here in the middle of the night, maybe you should get some sleep first.”

  “I’m not going if you’re not,” said Paul.

  “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” said Stephen.

  “Well,” said Aubrey as she came down the stairs, “sorry to bust up the party, but I’m out of here as soon as the sun sets. Fuck this place.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Jacker. “Then I can go get my van.”

  “You can’t do that,” said Paul. “Even if you make it out, what if they’re watching the van? You’ll get busted.”

  “That’s the point,” said Jacker. “I need to step up and face the music. I screwed up, and I can’t run from it forever. You guys don’t need to get dragged down with me. I’ll go out there, get the van, and tell the security that I was the only one here. If they call the police, then I’ll be the only one they charge with anything.”

  “Wow, man,” said Stephen. “Thanks.”

  “Come upstairs with me,” said Aubrey. “Let’s try to get some sleep in the spare bedroom before we head out.”

  The blonde bartender went back up the stairs as Jacker followed. He looked at Paul with a wide smile and a wink. Stephen patted Jacker on the back as he passed and said, “Go get her, big guy.”

  “I still owe you for this, buddy,” said Jacker to Stephen.

  “Not anymore,” said Stephen. “If you’re taking the fall for us, then we’ll call it even.”

  Alma watched Jacker go up the stairs to sleep with Aubrey. Inside of her, a memory of her childhood was screaming in hateful terror. How many times had she watched her father ascend those stairs, ready to cheat on Alma’s mother? How many times had he forced Alma to promise never to talk about what happened in Widowsfield?

  “I’ll kill you and your brother if you ever say anything, Alma,” he used to tell her. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you both.”

  “Are they seriously going to go up there and fuck?” asked Rachel. “In the middle of all this shit, they’re going to have sex up there? Are they insane?”

  Alma looked at the stairs as the hallway light shined down. “It’s not their fault. This place is trying to manipulate us. It’s putting emotions in us that were here sixteen years ago. It’s trying to complete the circle.”

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 1996

  “What did you see?” asked The Skeleton Man. He was hiding across the street, in front of a house where a little boy had just found his mother’s body fused to the floor under his bed. The child’s screams of terror were hard to ignore as Raymond stood in the yard.

  Fog swirled around the demon, and the creature hid within it, staying a blur and lurking far enough behind the veil to shroud his features. His chattering teeth never ceased.

  “I saw a little girl and boy,” said Raymond. “I met them once before. Their father is one of my sister’s friends. The boy was going up the stairs.”

  “No, no,” said The Skeleton Man. “You’re looking at the wrong moment. You have to look beyond.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Raymond. “You asked me to look in there, and I did.”

  “Go back, look again,” The Skeleton Man growled. “But this time forget what’s always been there. Look at what’s new.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Raymond.

  The demon’s rage was revealed by the crackling electricity in the fog around him. The green light snapped at the tree in the front yard, which caused the bark to sizzle. “Fine. Come with me then. Just keep an eye out for your sister. I can’t be near her. You have to keep her away. Do hear me? Keep her away.”

  They went back to the cabin, and t
he fog pressed up against the window. Raymond tried to peer in, but the electricity crackled around him and he flinched in fear of it.

  “She’s here,” said The Skeleton Man. “I can feel her, but I can’t find her. There’re too many others. Who did she bring?”

  Raymond looked in through the window again, but all he could see was a little girl crying in the kitchen. The boy was talking to her from the stairs as he carried a pot up with him.

  “He’s not here,” said The Skeleton Man.

  “Who?” asked Raymond.

  “The one that burned us. The one your sister is waiting for.”

  Dogs ran through the fog behind them, growling and snapping their jaws as they fought with one another. Raymond was frightened of them, but knew he was safe as long as he was with The Skeleton Man. He wondered what was happening to the other children now that The Skeleton Man was fixated on the cabin. Surely they must be dead already.

  He took The Skeleton Man’s hand and felt the wetness of the demon’s flesh sliding off the bone.

  “I need to know them all,” said The Skeleton Man. “I need to see if she’s replaced me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Brother’s Parting

  March 12th, 2012

  Jacker was in an alley, though he didn’t know how he’d arrived there. His skin was itching, as if bugs were crawling on it, and he scratched at his arms as he walked. There was a man beside a dumpster, smoking a cigarette. It was a young man, thin and fit, with shoulder length blonde hair. Jacker knew who he was.

  “Kyle,” said Jacker as he approached. “Kyle Beckner?”

  “That’s me,” said the kid as he flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. He was wearing an apron with the logo of the grocery store on it. “What can I do for you?”

  “You’re the one that Debbie’s been fucking,” said Jacker.

  The kid stiffened, fearful, and started to reach for the back door of the grocery store. Jacker slammed his hand against the door to keep it shut. “She’s my girlfriend, you asshole.”

  “Look man,” said the kid as he stepped back, “I didn’t know she was with anyone.”

  “Bullshit,” said Jacker. “I met you at the Christmas Party.”

  “Back off, asshole. Maybe if you could please your bitch, she wouldn’t go looking for stray.” He flicked his cigarette at Jacker and it bounced off the big man’s jacket.

  Kyle’s bravado was reliant on Jacker backing off. There was no question who would win this fight, but the kid assumed Jacker was too scared to fight. He was wrong.

  Jacker pushed Kyle off the stoop, and the kid fell into a pile of trash in the alley. He scrambled to stand up and threw a bottle at Jacker as he did. The bottle hit Jacker in the shoulder, but didn’t faze him.

  “You want to fight?” asked the kid as he started to hop around with his fists up. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Big mistake.” Jacker advanced, and Kyle threw a couple punches that connected, but delivered no sting. Jacker was too large, and too high, to feel any pain that this puny man could inflict.

  Jacker grabbed the side of Kyle’s head and slammed it into the brick wall on the other side of the alley. Kyle fell, dazed, as blood broke free from the side of his head, like oil seeping from dry earth. Jacker stared down at the beaten boy, and should’ve walked away.

  “How’d that feel?” asked Jacker.

  Kyle couldn’t answer. He was on his knees, wavering as if drunk, and staring up as the blood gushed down his left cheek. The gash on his brow was already swelling, and it looked like a golf ball was trying to burst through the boy’s skull.

  The fight was over, and Jacker knew he should’ve walked away, but then he made the worst mistake of his life: He imagined this blonde haired teenager having sex with Debbie.

  Jacker lifted Kyle up by the throat, and then slammed the boy’s head against the wall again. More blood gushed forth, and Kyle’s lip split open. Jacker hit the boy’s head against the wall again, and then again. This was the part where the boy’s eyes were supposed to roll back in his head. He was supposed to start gagging on blood, and Jacker was supposed to drop him and run. That’s the way this was supposed to go, but everything had changed now. This wasn’t a memory, but a nightmare.

  Kyle looked at Jacker and smiled. A flash of green light illuminated the night sky as Kyle started to laugh. “I see you now, Hank Waxman.”

  Jacker slammed the boy into the wall again and heard his skull split. Dark red blood sprayed out of the gaping wound on the side of Kyle’s head, but the boy still laughed.

  “I see you, Hank Waxman!”

  Again, Jacker crushed the boy’s skull against the wall. Again, the boy laughed. There were specks of white bone in the pulp of flesh on the side of Kyle’s head now, and Jacker sent the boy’s skull into the wall to do even more damage.

  “I see you, Hank Waxman!”

  Kyle’s voice was marred by the flaps of skin that drooped off the side of his head. Meat and bone, broken teeth and a swollen tongue, teeth and blood, and two eyes still staring up at him.

  “I see you, Hank Waxman!”

  Jacker backed away.

  “I see you, Hank Waxman!”

  Kyle crawled toward him, his head broken and dripping, his brain pulsing beneath the gore. He reached out for him, but Jacker turned and ran.

  “I see you, Hank Waxman!”

  Jacker awoke, his head mopped with sweat, and struggled to breath. He gasped and clutched his throat, then reached down to wake Aubrey. She was startled and turned to see what was wrong.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Jacker. “Now. Right now.”

  “Has the sun gone down?” she asked and looked over at the drawn shade.

  “I don’t care. We have to go, right now.” Jacker got out of bed and started to put his clothes on.

  Aubrey was nude, and pulled the cover over herself. “What’s got you so spooked?”

  “This place,” said Jacker. “We’ve got to go. I’m going with or without you.”

  “Okay, for crying out loud. Give me a second to get my clothes on.”

  “Hurry up,” said Jacker as he left the room.

  He went downstairs and found the others. Paul and Alma were in the living room, while Stephen and Rachel were in the kitchen.

  “Hey big guy,” said Stephen. “Did you unwrap your present up there?”

  “I’m leaving.” Jacker wasn’t interested in Stephen’s banter. He grabbed his wallet and keys, which he’d left on the counter, and headed for the door.

  “Jesus,” said Rachel. “What happened.”

  Jacker stopped and looked at Alma. “You need to leave.” Then he looked at the rest of them. “You all need to leave. Don’t stay here. You don’t want to be here when he comes for you.”

  “Who?” asked Paul.

  “I don’t know!” Jacker was still sweating and swiped his brow. He was panicked, and his heart thumped hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.

  Paul came over to him and pointed to the door. “Go outside with me. I want to talk to you.”

  “Be careful, guys,” said Stephen. “The sun’s not all the way down. Don’t get caught.”

  Paul walked with Jacker out into the yard. Then he took his friend by the arm and spun him around in anger. “What have you been using?”

  “What?” asked Jacker.

  “You’re high. What did you and that slut do up there?”

  “I’m not high.”

  “Bullshit,” said Paul. “I can fucking smell it. What was it? Meth? Were you two smoking meth up there?”

  “Get the fuck off me.” Jacker pushed Paul away. “I’m not high.”

  “Do you think I’m fucking stupid? I can smell it. I smelled it ever since you went up there. I know you were cheating with her.”

  Jacker was confused and angry. “I’m not high.” He took Paul’s sobriety coin out of his pocket and threw it at his friend.

  Paul caught the token and clasped his fist ar
ound it. “You’re a cheater.”

  “I had some drinks with Stephen,” said Jacker. “There. You happy? You caught me. I’m a fucking drunk, but I’m not high.”

  “I’m not talking about drinking,” said Paul. “You fucking cheated on her.”

  “On who?” asked Jacker, abashed.

  Paul stopped and his posture relaxed. “I don’t know,” he admitted as if worried by his own addled thoughts. He put his hand on his head and backed away as he repeated, “I don’t know.”

  “It’s this place, man,” said Jacker. “I don’t know what’s going on in there, but it’s not good. That place fucks with your head. Do yourself a favor and get as far away from it as you can.”

  “I’m not leaving Alma,” said Paul.

  “Then you’re going to have to figure out a way to get her away from here. You’ve got to. You’re not ready for what’s happening here. No one is.”

  The front door opened as Aubrey came out. “Everything okay?”

  Jacker chuckled and shook his head. “No, not at all. Come on, we’re leaving.”

  Paul grabbed Jacker’s shoulder. “Come here, man.” They embraced, and Paul placed his sobriety token back in Jacker’s hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Be careful out there. I love you, man. I need you safe and sound, and sober.”

  “Thanks brother,” said Jacker. “I’ll be fine.”

  Aubrey took Jacker’s hand as they headed up the hill, away from the cabin. Jacker saw Paul going back inside, and felt sorry for him. As much as he wanted Paul safe, he knew that his friend would never leave Alma. He’d worked too hard to get her back, and loved her too much, to leave her here.

  Aubrey and Jacker ran back toward the elementary school. Aubrey said that she knew a different way out, through a sewer on the south side of town, but they would have to get past the middle school and the high school to get here.

  They stayed quiet as they went, and reached the middle school quickly. They weren’t worried about the figures in the building now that they knew someone had set up mannequins around town. They stayed close to the school to use it as cover as they snuck toward the park on the other side of the high school. A few security trucks passed, still blaring the warning to Hank Waxman about involving the police, and about how they knew he was a wanted man.