by A. R. Wise
“Yes,” said Desmond as he approached from behind Grace.
She wasn’t afraid of him anymore. As the glow warmed her, she realized she wasn’t afraid of anything. The rays caressed her skin, as tactile as anything that had ever touched her before. It felt like the warmth was seeping into her, and slowly pulling her in, piece by piece. Dots of sparkling white floated away from her, and up along the path the rays cut through the sky. She felt like a budding flower that was feeling the first rays of a sunrise as it burned away the fog.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?” asked Grace, but not with trepidation. Unlike any moment in her entire life, she was fully aware that death was not something to be afraid of. The realization was equally invigorating and tranquilizing, a sensation unequaled in all of her years on Earth. Human beings live with a constant dread of creeping death – that specter looming large over every other facet of life. Despite any promise that religion holds, or assurance that a pastor gives, an uncertainty about mortality rests deep within. Once that fear was allayed, Grace experienced a burst of joy that could only be rivaled by the deepest love.
“Yes,” said Desmond. “I think we’ve been dead for a long time.”
Grace recognized sadness in Desmond’s voice, and she turned to him, hoping to carry him into the light with her. He was standing in the kitchen, out of the rays that reached down.
“Come with me,” said Grace as she held out her hand.
Desmond shook his head. “Not yet, Gracie. Not without my boy.”
“Are you sure he’s not up here already?” asked Grace.
“I heard him here, somewhere. I know he’s still stuck down here, and I’m not leaving without him.”
“You’ve always been such a good father to that boy, Dezzy.”
“Thanks,” said Desmond with sorrow in his voice. “Hey Grace, I want to tell you something. If this is the last time we ever see each other, there’s something I want to say.”
“It won’t be the last time we see each other,” said Grace. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my whole life.”
Desmond smiled. “Even so, I just want to say thanks. You were always so good to Ray and me. I always…” he looked down, embarrassed, but forced himself to continue. “I guess I’ve always had a crush on you. You’re the prettiest girl I know.”
“Thank you, Dezzy,” said Grace. She wasn’t embarrassed by his admission, and realized that her appreciation was influenced by the sense of enlightenment that flooded her. In life, Grace would’ve been uncertain how to react to an admission of attraction of the sort that Desmond had given. She was married, and was not attracted to Desmond. His declaration would’ve made their relationship difficult, and she would’ve been tempted to change the way she interacted with him. Now, however, she felt wholly appreciative of his love, and wanted nothing but to give him happiness. “I’ll be waiting for you up here.”
“Bye Gracie,” said Desmond as he waved from the cover of the Salt and Pepper Diner, out of the light.
Elsewhere in Widowsfield, similar events were taking place. At the Emergency Services Building across the street, Nancy walked back in to tell Claire and Darryl about the blooming light descending from the heavens. Darryl was slow to rise from his seat, as he normally was, but when the golden hue reached in through the windows he joined his coworkers as well.
They stood at the door, hesitant to leave until the light touched them. One by one, they each accepted their fate. Darryl wept, and Claire embraced him, neither feeling any sense of sorrow – only joy. They had no fear of death, and no concern about leaving loved ones behind. As the rays warmed them, it was clear that life was a stumbling block on a much longer journey. There was no sense that a heavenly father was guiding them on, but rather that they had only temporarily forgotten their place in the fabric of existence, and the connection they each shared. The sparks of their souls danced together in the light, free of inhibition and concern, trauma or pain.
Winnie Anderson was with the UPS driver, Walter, watching from the windows of the used book store as the light finally broke through the shroud of fog that had hidden the occupants of Widowsfield for sixteen years. They were both scared at first, but then Walter dared to reach out to the rays and felt its warm embrace. He pulled Winnie in to share a kiss he’d been meaning to give her for months. As the glow grew brighter and cast the shadows of Walter and Winnie over the wood floor of the book store, they held one another tighter.
Their nightmare was finally over. But not all of Widowsfield had been set free.
Widowsfield let the souls of the dead leave, but only because The Watcher had discovered new horrors left in the minds of the residents that still slept. The new Widowsfield had lost the girls that the witch led into the water, and now The Watcher released the souls of those who’d died years earlier. The fog was less crowded, but The Watcher was delighted by the fear it clung to – those souls in the mist, anchored to Widowsfield by the husks that slept at the Cada E.I.B. facility.
In the sixteen years after the event in Widowsfield that traumatized the residents of the town, several of them passed on. Some of the sleepers died of natural causes, from things like heart attacks and aneurisms. The Watcher and The Skeleton Man had caught their energy, what a religious person would refer to as their souls, in the web of lies that they’d created out of Widowsfield, and used them to help create the nightmare. They’d hidden away the light of heaven with the fog of nightmares.
The Widowsfield where The Watcher lurked existed between two worlds, a layer between heaven and earth. In one world, the denizens of Widowsfield had fallen unconscious, and were kept at the Cada E.I.B. facility; they were the sleepers. The other world was where the souls of the dead tried to reach, but The Watcher’s web caught them, forcing them to exist in his nightmare. Now that The Watcher had been forced to retrace his steps, and to recreate a new nightmare, he released the souls of the sleepers that had already died on Earth.
The girls of Widowsfield that followed the witch to the Jackson Reservoir and leapt in were thrust back into their bodies on the gurneys inside Cada E.I.B.s facility. Their souls were free, but still trapped by their living shell. The sleepers that hadn’t awoken were the ones that were still anchored to earth, but existed in The Watcher’s grasp.
Raymond was among the sleepers that still clung to life, and The Watcher focused on the boy’s worst moments. The Watcher craved the fear the boy felt when he was discovered in Terry’s closet by Michael Harper.
The Watcher in the Walls longed to know Michael again. He was creating new terrors based on the phantom of Michael, and he fantasized about what nightmares he could weave if Michael returned. The Watcher craved new sacrifices to torture, but he only had another day to wait. Vess would come back soon to turn on his machine. Then new souls would be sent back into The Watcher’s hell.
Widowsfield
March 13th, 2012
3:10 AM
Alma Harper stared at Widowsfield through the tinted windows of the Cada E.I.B. security van. Paul was sitting beside her on the long, single seat. He held her hand, but neither of them seemed capable of expressing emotion of any sort. Paul was exhausted, and Alma’s time in the clutches of The Watcher had left her mentally and emotionally drained. Too many thoughts clouded her mind, and it was impossible to settle on a single thing to worry about.
She whispered, “I wish I never came back here,” as she looked out at the dead town.
Paul squeezed her hand and scooted closer to her. He put his arm around her and said, “You had to.”
“No I didn’t,” said Alma. “I avoided this place for most of my life. I should’ve kept avoiding it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with trying to face the skeletons in your closet,” said Paul. “And there’s no way you could’ve known what was actually going on here.”
“I don’t know,” said Alma. “I think I should’ve expected this.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Rosemary from the passenger-side
seat.
Jacker stopped the van at an intersection to give Rosemary a chance to get out and touch the pavement ahead, like they’d been doing since leaving Cada E.I.B., but Rosemary was interested in what Alma was saying. She didn’t get out.
“I’ve always been afraid of this place,” said Alma.
“Right, of course,” said Rosemary, disinterested with Alma’s fear of Widowsfield. “But you said you should’ve expected this. Why would you say that?”
Alma felt like she was being put on the spot, and glanced helplessly over at Paul. “I don’t know. The things I remembered about this place were awful. I should’ve known not to try and come back here.”
Rosemary continued to stare at Alma, causing her to become increasingly uncomfortable.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Rosemary shook her head slowly and then said, “I just had a horrible thought.”
“Great,” said Jacker as he sunk down into his seat. He sighed and put his hand over his face as he groaned. “What’s your horrible thought?” He was clearly sick of horrible thoughts.
“That we’re all stuck in a different Watcher’s lies,” said Rosemary. The rest of the occupants of the van stiffened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Paul.
“It’s sort of pointless to worry about,” said Rosemary as she glanced away in thought. “But what if we’ve always been stuck in an illusion a Watcher created?”
Paul leaned his head back and groaned loudly, and then he started to laugh. He shook his head, sighed, and said, “Then tell the mother fucker I want out.”
Jacker chuckled in agreement. “Amen, brother.”
“You’re right,” said Rosemary as she started to open the door. “It’s silly to worry about…”
“Wait,” said Alma. She was the only one in the car that was still taking the conversation seriously. “I used to dream about him.”
Rosemary sat back in her seat, and closed the door again. “About who?” she asked as she turned to Alma.
“I thought it was Ben,” said Alma as she became increasingly concerned. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“What were the dreams?” asked Rosemary.
“I have this recurring dream about my teeth falling out, and children laughing at me. And sometimes I’d hear the teeth chattering.”
“The Skeleton Man,” said Paul, apparently recalling how the creature’s teeth would constantly clack against one another.
“But there were also black wires in the dreams,” said Alma. “I never really thought about them before, but in all of those recurring dreams there were these black wires around. Sometimes they just made up the strings on a harp, and other times entire walls were made up of them.”
“The Watcher in the Walls,” said Rosemary. “I’ve only ever gotten glimpses of him.”
“I met him,” said Alma. “He was a mass of tentacles or wires, all coiled up and turned into the shape of a man. He was part of the fog, but he was also connected to the cabin. Does that make sense?”
“The Watchers live inside the walls,” said Rosemary before she slapped the headrest beside her. “They live in these inanimate things. I think my gift, the psychometry, is just an ability to tap into what they know. Like they’re allowing me to see the things they remember.”
“Maybe that’s what my dreams were,” said Alma. “Maybe they were trying to talk to me?” She phrased the statement like a question.
Rosemary nodded, and bit her lip as she considered what Alma had said. “I just don’t understand why The Watchers everywhere else are so docile, while the one here in Widowsfield is so malicious.”
“Maybe he’s an insane one,” said Jacker. “Like a serial killer or some mental case like that.”
“Well, we know that Oliver’s company had something to do with it,” said Paul. “Right?”
“Yes,” said Rosemary. “But I still don’t know how or why. It had something to do with a warship that was in the reservoir on March 14th, 1996. I looked into it, but all I could find out was that a replica of a Greek ship had been built in the reservoir to attract tourism.”
“Wait,” said Alma as she sat up straighter. “I’ve heard of that before. I used to get all sorts of insane conspiracy theorists calling me each year about what happened here. I remember someone talking about a boat before. They mentioned specifically about it being a Greek boat.”
“Maybe Stephen and Rachel could find out more,” said Paul. “Let’s give them a call and see if they can start using their reporter tricks to snoop around the net a little.”
Rosemary agreed, but said, “The most important thing is to find Michael and Ben, let’s not put their focus on something else until after that.”
“Hey guys,” said Jacker with a tone of uncertain humor. “Not to be a jackass or anything, but check out the time.”
It was, of course, 3:14.
CHAPTER 6 – Practice Makes Perfect
Philadelphia
June 13th, 1943
“Vess,” said a deep voice from behind them, interrupting the discussion Lyle had been having with his new employer. They turned to see a large man, both in stature and width, in a beige Army uniform that distinguished him from the rest of the Marines on the ship. The man stood as tall as Vess, and a smile of greeting came easily to his face, but disappeared just as quick. He had a full head of hair that was greased with an ample amount of Pomade that caused the silver streaks to gleam, just as the grey whiskers did in his mustache. He wasn’t a thin man, and wore his belt high over his belly, squeezing his girth in an almost comical manner, like a sausage tie that had come undone and allowed the link to slowly expand.
“Leslie,” said Vess when he turned and recognized the man. “How are things in New York going?” The two men shook hands.
The man named Leslie grimaced and grunted as he shook his head. “I haven’t been back to the office for a few weeks, and I think I’d be safer staying away for a few weeks more. I’m on my way back to Washington, coming back from New Mexico.”
“Setting up the project?” asked Vess.
“Doing more than that,” said the gruff man. “We’re full-steam ahead now. Oppenheimer’s getting about ten times the staff, and we’ve been struggling to keep the spies out. Easier said than done.”
Vess smirked wryly and said, “I can’t believe you’ve got a Communist working on the project. I don’t imagine Byrnes is too happy to hear that.”
“He’s the right man for the job. Byrnes will have to bite his tongue and pout for a bit. If Oppenheimer can get the job done, then I’ll be damned if he’s not the one heading it up.” Leslie had a clear New York accent, but his speech was languid and easy, similar to how a southerner spoke, taking time to savor the words. “Unfortunately, the guy’s got Commie friends all over the damn place. There’s a rumor he’s got some teaching buddy who’s been trying to get him to send information over to Stalin about what we’re up to out in the desert. God forbid that ends up being true.” Leslie grunted and shrugged his shoulders. “But we’re not dropping bombs on the Soviets – at least not yet.”
“Give us time,” said Vess, but the other man was clearly uncertain how to respond.
Leslie took a deep breath, his massive chest expanding and testing the soundness of his buttons, and then he expelled his next sentence with plenty of air, “But who am I to judge Oppenheimer? Here I am spilling national secrets in front of a man whose name I haven’t even bothered to ask.”
Vess regarded Lyle and said, “My apologies, let me introduce my new assistant, Lyle Everman. Lyle, this is Major Leslie Groves, he’s the man in charge of our little outing today.”
The Major gripped Lyle’s hand tight, easily swallowing the smaller man’s hand within his own. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Lyle meekly said, “Pleasure’s all mine, sir.”
“Lyle scored higher than any previous applicant on the Cording Exams,” said Vess.
“Glad to hear
it,” said Groves. “We’ve been waiting for a man like you.”
Lyle laughed uncomfortably and looked back and forth between the two, taller men. He felt like a child being lauded by a parent and a teacher for something he didn’t quite understand. “Happy to help the war effort any way I can, although I have to admit, I’m not sure what that exam has to do with anything. It was just a bunch of silly questions about my childhood while men in white coats played around with wires and machines.”
“It was important,” said Groves. “You can be sure of that. We’ve been looking for someone like you for quite some time.”
Vess spoke before Lyle had a chance to. “Why’s Einstein leaving? I thought he was going to be observing today’s test.”
“He is,” said Groves. “I’m going to be joining him on a second ship.”
Vess appeared surprised and a little concerned. “A second ship? I know I said I wanted this room empty of onlookers, but there’s no need to leave the ship.”
“We’ll have a couple tugs out there, just in case,” said Groves. “I’ll be on one of them with Al.”
“Is he concerned about the machine?”
“Concerned isn’t the right word,” said Groves. “I’d say cautious better explains it.”
“Should I be ‘cautious’ as well?” asked Vess.
“Don’t take it too seriously,” said Groves. “I’ve just got to be extra careful about everything these days. For crying out loud, I was told to draft up a letter to Oppenheimer about how he should consider not flying or driving long distances anymore. With as much money as they’re throwing at these projects, we’ve got to be mighty careful with the lives of the men running things.”
“I guess it’s good to know my place then,” said Vess, his sarcasm evident.
“Don’t go being sensitive, Vess,” said the Major as he clopped his mighty hand on the frail man’s shoulder. “You know as well as anyone how hard your brand of, uh, ‘science’ is to get the folks in D.C. to take seriously.”