314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy)

by A. R. Wise

  Alma rushed to the stairs, the knife in one hand and her keychain in the other. She could feel the wet carpet beneath her bare feet as she climbed, and she was reminded of the time she’d arrived home to discover her father naked in her bed. Her stomach lurched and she fell to her knees as the memory addled her.

  She could hear her father’s voice beckoning her, “Alma, come here. Sit down with me.”

  She began to wretch, and then vomit. Bile and white foam spewed out over her hands as she crouched on the stairs and heaved. All the pain that Michael Harper had caused came rushing back, causing worse damage to her than any weapon ever could. She was assaulted with the memory of his hand pressed over her mouth as she tried to hum like mommy had told her to. She tried to hum, but it didn’t help.

  “Alma,” said Terry. Alma looked up and saw Terry leaning down and trying to help her stand. Terry looked different than Alma remembered her, healthier and younger than she’d been. Her visage faded as Alma got to her feet. “Don’t let him make you hate Michael. I can help. Bring Ben to me.”

  The hall way was shifting. The floor was carpeted, but then it was wood, as if Alma was flashing between time periods, caught in a dizzying display of reality. She placed her right hand against the wall as she kept the knife tightly in her grip.

  “He deserves this,” said Alma as she remembered everything that her father had done.

  Ben was ahead, and had walked through the door that led to the master bedroom. Alma was taller than he was now, and she realized that she was no longer the child that she’d been in the kitchen moments before. She was an adult again, and she was watching the scene unfold as it had sixteen years earlier.

  This would be her chance to pay Michael back for everything that he’d done. This would be her chance for revenge.

  Ben was walking slowly to the bathroom, the pot of boiling water held steady in his hands. Alma walked up behind him, and he looked back when he heard her coming.

  “Alma, no,” said Ben. “You have to play your part.”

  “Is that for him?” asked Alma. “Is he in the tub? Did you boil that water to pour on Dad?”

  Ben was hesitant to answer. Then he finally nodded and said, “Yes.”

  “Good,” said Alma. “I want to watch.”

  CHAPTER 31 – It Begins Again

  Four fires already raged in Widowsfield, and Stephen was moving on to set the next. He was splattered with blood, but that didn’t matter. He had to finish the job that Rosemary had set out for him.

  Widowsfield had to burn.

  Rosemary and Helen had spent the past year filling the buildings of Widowsfield with flammable items. The decrepit town was already dry and suitable to burn, but the psychometric needed to make sure there would be nothing left of The Watcher’s favorite spots by the time anyone in a neighboring town saw the glow of the flames.

  He entered the Salt and Pepper Diner on Main Street and walked around the counter. This would be the last fire he had to set. This place had been the focus of many of The Watcher and The Skeleton Man’s worst atrocities, and it had to be consumed by flame.

  Stephen went to the bathroom that was boarded up. He grabbed one of the boards and pulled until he was finally able to wiggle it free. He took the ‘Out of Order’ sign off the handle and tossed it aside. He opened the door and saw the tinder within. A gas can was on the floor.

  He uncapped the can, and then splashed the tinder with a generous amount of gasoline. Then he moved out into the dining area to draw a line of gas across the counter. By the time he reached the dessert case near the register, the can was empty. He tossed it aside and then pulled out the lighter Rosemary had left in the bag for him.

  Stephen ignited the fire and then ran out of the diner as the gas quickly ignited.

  From the center of Main Street, Stephen Knight watched the town burn. He marveled at the scene, and watched the sky fill with smoke that was thick enough to blot out the stars. His mission was nearly complete. There was just one thing left to do.

  He took the pistol out of his waistband. He knew there was at least one bullet left. His legs felt like they were losing strength, and he wobbled as he finished his journey. Stephen got on his knees and placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth.

  Widowsfield claimed its final victim as the shot that ended Stephen’s life echoed through the empty streets.

  3:14

  Paul and Jacker ran across the street and into the house on Sycamore.

  Rachel was inside, and she was startled by their entrance. She’d been crying, and her mascara was streaked across her cheeks. “Who are you?”

  “Rachel, it’s me, Paul.”

  “Who?” She was confounded and frightened by their intrusion.

  “Where’s your ring?” asked Paul. “Put your wedding ring on.”

  “No, I took it off,” said Rachel. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not married anymore. My piece of shit husband is upstairs right now, fucking some whore.”

  “No, Rachel,” said Paul. “You’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to put the ring on.”

  “Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

  “Yes you do,” said Paul. “I know you and Stephen have been having problems, but you’ve got to trust me and put your ring back on. You’re falling into The Watcher’s trap.”

  “I’m not putting that ring back on,” said Rachel as she looked at the ring that was sitting on the counter.

  “Fine, then just hold it,” said Paul. “I don’t have time to argue with you about it. Jacker, get her to hold the ring. I’ve got to go upstairs and find Alma.”

  Paul left them behind as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. He could hear moaning coming from the closed door ahead and he tried to run the length of the hallway to get there, but the walls stretched, and no matter how fast he ran he never seemed to get any closer. He screamed out to Alma, and a woman’s moans of pleasure grew louder each second. The Watcher or The Skeleton Man were trying hard to keep Paul trapped in Rachel’s nightmare, and he couldn’t break free.

  “Rachel,” screamed Paul, “put the ring on!”

  “Fine, God damn it,” she yelled back.

  Paul knew the moment she’d picked the ring back up. The hallway snapped back into shape and the sounds of people having sex behind the bedroom door ceased. Paul was able to grip the handle and open the door.

  Alma was standing across the room beside a young boy that was carrying a pot of something that was steaming. Paul called out to her and she turned in surprise.

  “Paul? What are you doing here?”

  “Get out of here,” said the boy that Paul recognized as Alma’s brother.

  “You have to stop,” said Paul. “You’re going to fall into his trap again.”

  “Whose trap?” asked Alma.

  “The Watcher in the Walls.”

  “Shut up,” said Ben as he tried to walk faster towards the bathroom. The boiling water in the pot splashed over his arm and he cried out in pain before dropping it to the floor. The metal pot banged hard against the carpet as water splashed out at the boy’s feet.

  “Look what you did,” said Ben in fury as he leapt away from the boiling liquid. Ben’s expression contorted in anger, and he screamed out as he began to shudder. His bones crackled, and his skin split. Blood seeped from his wounds as he began to convulse. The bones in his right arm grew suddenly long, carving their way through the skin they’d been hiding within. The Skeleton Man emerged from what had once been Alma’s brother, leaving the shredded skin behind as he grew and shook. His teeth chattered as the black wires rose from the floor and wrapped themselves around his legs like vines around the trunk of a tree.

  Alma stood beside The Skeleton Man, either unafraid or unaware of what her brother had become. “I don’t want you here, Paul,” she said. “We have to pay him back for what he did.”

  “Pay who back?” asked Paul.

  “The daddies,” answered The Skeleton Man.

  “He deserves this,”
said Alma. “Don’t try to save him.”

  Paul saw a hand reach up over the edge of the tub in the bathroom. Michael Harper rose from the bath, naked, wet, and shivering. The belt gag that they’d tied on him in the hotel room in Branson had been placed back over his mouth, and he was crying tears of blood as he stared out at the children that meant to torture him.

  “Alma, you can’t do this. You’re better than this.”

  “No I’m not,” said Alma. “Don’t you get it? This is why I had to come back. This is what Ben was trying to help me do before. The only reason he had to trick us was to try and get out and get to Daddy. He knew that I would never be safe until Daddy was dead. Ben’s the only one that’s ever loved me.” She moved closer to the shambling mass of bones and wire that was standing beside her. The Skeleton Man’s teeth chattered as his sister put her arm around him.

  “That’s not true,” said Paul. “I love you, Alma. And I know that…”

  “You don’t know anything!” Alma’s sudden fury shocked Paul into silence. “You don’t know what he did.” She pointed back at the shivering man in the tub behind her. “You don’t know what sort of things I’ve had to live through. If you really loved me, then you’d be standing here with me, helping me torture this piece of shit. You’d be the one sticking the knife in and cutting him open. You’d be the one pouring the water in.”

  “No I wouldn’t,” said Paul. “Because I know you’re better than that. Alma, you’re better than me. You’re better than him,” he pointed at The Skeleton Man. “You’ve always been a good person, and there’s no way I’ll ever believe that you want to torture someone, no matter what they did. That’s not the type of person you are.”

  Paul stepped forward and felt his boot hit wood instead of carpet. He looked down and saw the hole that Alma had cut away in the carpet, revealing the spot where Michael had stabbed Terry to death. The gouges in the wood were healing themselves, and he stepped back, uncertain what was happening.

  “Alma, where’s the keychain I gave you?” asked Paul while still staring at the floorboards.

  “Here,” said Alma as she lifted her left hand.

  Paul looked up and saw that she was holding the keychain in one hand and a butcher knife in the other. “Okay, then drop the knife. You don’t need it. Drop the knife and just concentrate on the keychain.”

  “What are you trying to do?” asked The Skeleton Man as he took a step forward. “Just leave. She doesn’t want you here.”

  “Please put down the knife,” said Paul as he backed away another step. The Skeleton Man drew nearer, and he was growing larger with each step. The cords had now begun to cover his entire frame, and were weaving between his bones to craft a mockery of a human being.

  “The daddies have to die,” said The Skeleton Man.

  Alma watched The Skeleton Man as he approached Paul, and despite how much she wanted to punish her father for what he’d done, she wanted to save Paul more. She loved him, and so she dropped the knife.

  As the butcher knife hit the floor, a woman’s arm grew forth from the spot where Terry had been murdered. Paul saw the ghost of Michael’s mistress rise from the floorboards and reach out to try and grab Ben.

  The Skeleton Man reeled back and avoided the ghost’s grasp. He backed into Alma, and she held him steady as the ghost of Terry continued to try and crawl free.

  “We have to run,” said The Skeleton Man, although his voice sounded more like Ben’s now. “We have to get away.”

  Alma looked at Paul as she gripped the keychain. She understood what she had to do.

  “No, Ben,” said Alma. “It’s over.”

  The Skeleton Man turned on her and yelled in fury. The walls shook and began to crumble, revealing the wires within. Alma pushed at The Skeleton Man, but the cords shot out from the walls and tied themselves to their demon, refusing to let him fall into the grip of the red-haired woman.

  Paul rushed over to help. He wrapped his arm around The Skeleton Man’s neck and felt the twisting cords pinching the flesh on his arm as he pulled backward. The cords snapped free as The Skeleton Man cried out in anger and fear. One by one, the cords seemed to abandon Ben. They broke away from The Skeleton Man and shrank back into the deteriorating walls, making it easier to drag the creature closer to Terry.

  “Alma, no,” pleaded Ben’s voice as they pulled the creature down to the floor.

  Terry’s arms reached out and gripped The Skeleton Man. She pulled him down with her, and golden light burned in the space where the carpet had been cut. Terry continued to drag him down until the only thing sitting above the pool of gold was The Skeleton Man’s chattering jaw. Then Terry’s hand reached up and covered his mouth before dragging him down, silencing The Skeleton Man for good.

  There was no peace after Ben vanished beneath the floor. As soon as he was gone, Michael screamed out in pain from the bathroom. They looked up to see that he was being attacked by the wires that were breaking forth from the walls around them. His skin was being lacerated, and the weapons of The Watcher were snaking into the wounds.

  “Come on,” said Paul as he took Alma’s hand. They ran to the hall and slammed the door shut behind them. It sounded like the lid of a coffin, heavy and final.

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 2012

  Alma woke up, cold and shivering on the kitchen floor of the house on Sycamore. Nothing made sense to her anymore, and she gazed up at what looked like fog floating near the ceiling. Her heart sank as she feared that she was still stuck within The Watcher’s fog; lost somewhere in his nightmare.

  Then she smelled the smoke.

  “Fire,” said Alma with a groggy croak as she sat up. She coughed and then yelled louder, “Fire!”

  Paul was beside her, and she pushed at his arm to wake him. She was beginning to panic as she saw what was happening, and realized that she might not be able to wake Paul up. She could see Jacker and Rachel lying nearby, but Stephen was missing.

  Paul groaned and muttered, “Let me sleep.”

  Alma slapped him hard on the cheek and yelled, “Get up.”

  “Jesus, Alma,” said Paul as he opened his eyes. At first, he seemed annoyed with her, but then he quickly realized what was going on.

  “Help me get Jacker and Rachel up,” said Alma before the smoke caused her to begin coughing.

  Paul wasn’t concerned with being gentle. He slapped Jacker much harder than Alma had hit him, and Jacker yelled out in protest, “What the fuck?”

  “Get your ass up,” said Paul. “The house is burning.”

  Alma was able to get Rachel up without striking her, and she guided her to the door as Paul and Jacker followed. She tried to open the door, but then discovered it wouldn’t budge.

  “There’s something blocking the door,” said Alma.

  “Let’s go through the window,” said Rachel.

  “Hold up,” said Jacker as he moved the others out of the way. “This is my specialty.”

  Jacker charged the door and bashed his shoulder into it hard enough to crack the threshold and send the door swinging wide. He fell hard to his side outside and the others quickly followed behind. Rachel helped Jacker to his feet as Paul inspected what had sealed them in.

  “Someone nailed boards over the door,” said Paul.

  “Where’s Stephen?” asked Rachel.

  “He wasn’t in there,” said Alma as she backed away from the house. She saw that the roof was on fire. It looked like whoever had tried to kill them had set the fire outside, probably after boarding up the door. The far side of the house was engulfed, as was part of the yard that separated Terry’s cabin from her neighbor. As Alma watched, part of the roof collapsed over where Terry’s bedroom had been. The windows shattered and a spout of flame erupted forth as the house began to collapse.

  “Holy shit,” said Jacker as they all moved out towards the street.

  “Look over there,” said Rachel as she pointed in the direction of the school. They all looked and s
aw that there was a fire there as well. It seemed that several buildings in Widowsfield had erupted in flames.

  “Come on,” said Jacker. “The van’s parked up the street. Let’s get the fuck out of here once and for all.”

  They ran up the street, but Jacker slowed down and finally stopped. He was patting his pockets as if searching for something before he cursed.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Rachel.

  “My keys are gone. I must’ve left them in the cabin.”

  “Well, fuck it,” said Rachel. “There’s no going back now.” They all looked down the hill at the raging fire that was consuming Widowsfield.

  “I might be able to jump the van,” said Paul.

  Jacker groaned in disapproval, but they didn’t have any other option. They knew that if the keys were in the cabin that they would never be able to get them.

  Shortly after, as they made their way up the street, Jacker stopped and cursed again.

  “What’s wrong now?” asked Paul.

  “This is where we parked,” said Jacker as he spun in a circle. “That mother fucker.”

  “What?” asked Alma.

  “Stephen stole my van, that’s what. That’s why my keys aren’t in my damn pocket, because that piece of shit stole them off me and took off.”

  “Where’s the security van? Can we take that?” asked Alma.

  Jacker pointed in the direction of the burning town. “It’s back at the field where we first came in. I don’t think we can get there from here without going through the fires.”

  “Great,” said Rachel. “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

  “Keep walking,” said Alma. “That’s what. We’re going to keep walking until we get out of this town, and I’m never looking back.”

  They all agreed. Each of them was eager to leave Widowsfield behind for good.

  Sycamore Street proved to be an arduous walk. It was steep, and didn’t level out until it t-boned at the road that curved a path around the Jackson Reservoir. If they turned right, they would end up headed back down into the town they were escaping, and if they turned left they would make their way up to the rest stop where Amanda Harper had driven off the cliff.