by J. Thorn
If he’d only gotten there in time, they wouldn’t be gone right now.
It was his fault. They were gone and it was his fault.
He pushed that thought away as they entered the basement. Albert – he was a good kid, one that deserved better than he’d been given in life – hooked up his camcorder to some of the editing equipment he had in the basement and hit several buttons.
A large computer screen lit up. Haunting images flashed: the clocktower hands, blurred too fast. The flash of the ghost that had wandered past the Sheriff’s station in the mist, strange points on its head. The shriek of Jason’s own walkie-talkie.
Albert hit another button, and this time the scene appeared in slow motion. The clock reappeared, still moving fast, but this time clear enough to see that it was moving forward. The shape of the wraith in the mist, moving slower and appearing more solid, but still unrecognizable. The feedback of the walkie-talkie, lower pitched but still sounding like a fork scraping across plates.
Albert typed a bit, and this time the screen showed the clock in super slow motion. It appeared to be moving normally.
"So that’s why all the clocks seemed blurred?" Jason said.
The kid nodded. "The digital clocks were all moving too fast to see. Or better said, we were moving too slow to see them continue to move normally."
"What about the ghosts?" asked Lenore, and Jason nodded. What were they?
Albert clicked a mouse and the scene jumped ahead, to the spot where the ghost walked by. Only in slow motion it wasn’t a ghost.
Jason gaped.
It was a cop. The "horns" were now visible as the points on the officer’s hat. A gas mask was slung around his neck, and the goggles reminded Jason of the large eyes of the phantoms that he had glimpsed from time to time.
Albert stopped the playback with the officer frozen on the screen. "What do you want to bet that on the last day of the Harappan civilization everyone was scared shitless? War, famine, destruction, all the things we are afraid of today. It got to be too much, and their fears came alive to them. To us."
Albert clicked the mouse again and the playback continued. The cop raised his walkie-talkie and Jason suddenly realized why his own device had screeched so often when the "ghosts" had passed nearby: he was picking up on the transmissions of the cops’ walkie-talkies.
"No good," the cop said in a weird voice that Jason recognized was an effect of the time slowdown. "No one in the Sheriff’s station, either. It’s like the whole town just…disappeared."
"We disappeared," said Albert excitedly. "Not them, us. All those phantoms are probably cops, national guardsmen, people come to find out what happened to our town. Because we haven’t completely disappeared. We’re just moving slower than they are, in some parallel universe that just barely touches ours…a place existing solely through our fears."
"I still don’t understand why we would be moving so slow," said Lenore.
Jason cringed internally, remembering the night of the shooting. He had run and re-run the distance a million times in his mind, and each time he was moving too slow. Too slow. Aloud, he said, "Because fear slows down time for us. Anticipation stretches it out."
"And fear lives in that environment, in that place of slow-time," Albert said. "So our time slows down, which means that real time – the rest of the world’s time – passes faster than we can keep up. To them, we disappear."
"Until we die," said Lenore. "Then I bet we reappear to them. That’s why the ghosts congregate around the dead bodies: it’s the cops, investigating a body they’ve found; probably one that just appeared out of nowhere."
A thought struck Jason, and he grew coldly angry. "Then why am I here?" he demanded.
"Because of whatever you fear," said Albert.
"There’s nothing I’m afraid of," said Jason.
"There must be something," said Lenore. "Everyone’s afraid of something." Looking sad, as though she pitied him, the schoolteacher reached out to touch his arm.
Jason wheeled on her. "There’s nothing!" he almost shouted. He pulled something from his pocket: the shining bullet that he always kept there; the bullet he had almost used to blow his own brains out before this had all started. "When all you’ve got left is the bullet you made from the ones that killed everything you ever loved…." His voice trailed off and he felt his eyes glistening. "There’s nothing left to fear when that happens."
Lenore tried to hold his hand. "Sheriff, I’m so sorry."
"Sorry won’t bring them back!" he shouted, throwing her hand off his. Then he wheeled on Albert. "And you, kid: if this is powered by fear, then where’s your fear?" Without waiting for an answer he unplugged the camcorder. "This is crazy. You’re crazy."
Albert’s face went white, but Jason didn’t care. All he could think about was his family, lost forever. He had nothing to fear, because only the living had things to lose, and he had left their ranks years ago.
The boy was mumbling something, clearly trying to come up with words that would help, but Lenore said sharply, "Just leave him alone for a second, Albert." Her worry for Jason was clear on her face.
Albert backed away. Then he screamed.
Jason snapped out of his self-pity instantly, turning to see what new horror could be coming for them. And saw himself.
What? he thought. But it was true: he saw a vision of himself emerging from the shadows. It grabbed Albert and yanked him toward the stairwell. Jason blinked, trying to fathom what was going on. Before he could interpret the strange vision he was seeing, another Lenore stepped out of the shadows, too. Both doppelgangers converged on Albert.
The boy screamed. "No! No!"
Jason went to help him, and felt Lenore close behind. But before they could take more than a few steps, the lights went out, plunging everything into darkness. Albert was still screaming, and Jason could barely make out the shadowed figures of his and Lenore’s twins yanking the struggling kid up the stairs. He ran after them, up the stairs and out into the foyer, but the shadow versions of himself and Lenore were too fast. They yanked Albert out of the house and the door slammed shut behind them.
The mist writhed outside the broken bay window. "No, no, nooooooooooooo!" Albert was screaming. "Don’t do it! Don’t do it, I swear I didn’t mean to do anything, I –"
And then the screams ceased with a cry and a wet gurgle as of a throat being cut. The mist withdrew slightly. Jason got ready to jump out the bay window, but felt a light hand on his arm. It was Lenore. She was crying.
"Don’t bother," she said. "He’s gone."
"How do you know?" demanded Jason. "How can you be sure?"
"Because it was his fear," she answered. "His fear came to get him."
Jason looked out the window. "What fear? What was his fear?"
"That everyone was out to get him. So when we were both angry at him down there…."
"It killed him," said Jason, finishing her thought.
She shook her head. "We killed him."
Jason realized how close to tears she was. "No," he said. "Whatever did this may have looked like us, but it wasn’t me." He took her hand in his. "And it wasn’t you, either, okay?"
Lenore jumped as a phantom passed by the window. Jason laughed wryly. "Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you. It’s just a cop."
The wind billowed, driving some of the mist into the house. Then it withdrew, leaving something behind. A note. Crayon.
yoU R NEXT
Lenore instantly began to shake with fear. "He’s here," she whispered. "Cowles is here."
Jason looked out the window again. The mist roiled and rolled angrily. "No, he’s not," he said, trying to reassure Lenore though he did not feel very safe or certain himself.
"He’s here," she insisted. "He’s coming."
"It’s just fear," said Jason, and felt bitterness rise up inside him. He had no fear. Nothing to live for, nothing to lose. "Fear is just like everything else," he continued. "It dies if you let it." He couldn’t hide the b
itterness in his words, even as he tried to impart a measure of hope to Lenore.
"I want to live, Jason," said Lenore, her gaze whipping back and forth between his face and the mist outside. "He’s here, he’ll find me, he’ll finish me this time."
"No, he won’t," said Jason.
"He will," she insisted.
"No, he won’t," he said again. "I won’t let him." And as he said that, the words bloomed inside him. He did have something to live for, after all. He gathered Lenore into his arms and held her tightly. "I won’t let him."
He felt Lenore go rigid in his embrace for a moment, then she relaxed and melted into him. They gave one another what solace could be given in this terror, and Jason felt life return in some small measure to his heart.
Then the moment ended as Lenore screamed.
Jason looked over. Out the bay window. Cowles’ face was in the darkness nearby. He was smiling.
The mist billowed, hiding him.
But he was out there now. Waiting.
***
TWENTY FOUR
***
Jason drew his gun and aimed it out the window. He pushed Lenore behind him, shielding her from her fear as best he could.
But it was no use. The force that powered Cowles’ existence did not center on him, it centered on Lenore. So when she moved behind Jason, the thug appeared there suddenly, grabbing her away and then yanking her out into the mist before Jason could react. He wanted to shoot the man, but the struggling form of Lenore was in the way and he didn’t want to hit her.
So he leapt out the window after them, running headfirst into the mist that had thickened even further. He could hear Lenore screaming, an aural beacon in the fog that he followed as rapidly as he could.
He saw shadows all around, but no Lenore. Then…there! A kicking foot, reminiscent of another kicking foot, dragged into an alley.
Jason threw off the cobwebs of memory and pursued Lenore and her kidnapper.
"Help, Jason!" screamed Lenore. "Hel –" And then her voice cut off and she was silent.
Jason had no time to despair; no time to think what he could do. In the instant that Lenore went silent, a pair of shadows moved out of the mist. Only these were not the police or guardsmen who were patrolling the empty town of Rising. It was a woman and her child, a mother and her son.
They were beautiful.
"Elizabeth," he said. "Aaron."
He reached out a trembling hand and touched his wife’s face, her lovely face. "We’re here, Jason," she said.
"Hi, Daddy," said Aaron.
It was too much. All thoughts of Lenore fled in an instant as he engulfed his family in an embrace. He smiled, lost in his wife’s loving eyes, then tousled his son’s hair.
"I’m sorry," he said. "I’m so sorry."
Elizabeth shook her head. "Shh. It’s all right, sweetheart."
She kissed him, long and deep…and then Jason pulled away. He looked at her deeply and said the hardest words he had ever said: "You’re not real."
"We could be," said Aaron, and the little boy’s voice, while still Aaron’s, now carried an undertone of madness and despair. A voice from Hell that tried to masquerade as a small piece of Heaven.
And why not? thought Jason. Why shouldn’t I get comfort in this fashion. It’s more than I deserve, for letting them die.
"Please, Daddy," said Aaron, and reached out to touch Jason’s arm with a small hand that was half-human, half-monster. A gnarled hybrid of innocence and destructive evil that flickered before Jason’s eyes, as though trying to decide whether to appear as salvation or damnation.
Lenore screamed in the distance, barely audible.
Jason left his wife’s embrace and turned to the sound. He stepped away from the ghosts of his past.
"Don’t," shouted Elizabeth – or the thing that Elizabeth had been.
Jason shut his eyes. He kept moving away.
"Daddy!" shouted Aaron. It was too much. Jason looked back at his family, weeping openly.
The mist billowed around them, strange and deadly.
Jason saw a hand push out of the mist: a gun, pointed at the back of Elizabeth’s head.
No, he thought. I never saw it happen, not even in The Dream, not ever, please, God, don’t let me see it happen.
"Save us," said Elizabeth. "You can save us. You just have to let go."
"Don’t let me die, Daddy," said Aaron.
Jason closed his eyes. "You’re already dead," he said. "And I have to save Lenore."
He turned away. Two shots rang out. Jason fell to his knees. "No!" he screamed, and all the terror and anger and anguish and loneliness of the past years were packed into the scream. It was so loud that his voice grew hoarse and raw and he could only sustain it for a few seconds. A few seconds of eternal hell, reliving his family’s death again.
And perhaps worst of all, Lenore was no longer screaming. She was gone.
***
TWENTY FIVE
***
Lenore had screamed as long as she could, but finally Cowles – or the demon that was pretending to be Cowles – hit her on the head with his gun and she fell insensible to the ground.
She woke in a dark place. Bound and gagged, and she couldn’t see where she was. She glanced around and then screamed around her gag as she saw Cowles, staring at her. The man pressed his knife on her cheek, and leered. "Don’t worry," he said. "I won’t kill you…yet." He licked his lips again with that strange, black, diseased tongue. "Like you all said, waiting is part of the fear. Knowing what will happen. It makes you…delicious."
***
Jason wandered, lost among the mist-wraiths that moved all about him. He reached out to touch one of the ghostly apparitions. The shadow passed right through him, or he passed right through it. One or the other.
"Lenore," he shouted. But it was no use. He had lost her.
A dark shape blossomed ahead of him, and he realized that it was the general store. The destroyed window and his truck were still there. One of the signs that had been affixed to the window flapped gently in the slight eddies of mist that whirled around the window.
It was a child’s sign. Written in black crayon.
go BaK to THE BegINIng
Jason stared at the note for a long moment, then realized what he had to do.
He got in his truck, praying it would still start. It did, and he pulled it out of the store with a screech of ruined gears and growls from a shredded chassis, then began to drive.
***
Cowles grinned at Lenore. He touched her bound arm. Caressed it. "Almost time, my beauty," he said, and again pressed his knife against her face. This time, however, he broke skin: she could feel a trickle of blood drip down her cheek.
"Almost time."
***
Jason rushed dangerously through the mist. He knew where he had to go, but did not know if he could find it.
Ahead of him, two shapes appeared in the mist. A small shape holding hands with a larger one. A voice whispered, "Please, Daddy."
Jason closed his eyes and drove right through the apparitions.
Two shots rang out.
He refused to be deterred, though, driving until he reached the house. Little Sean Rand’s house. The place where this had all started. The beginning.
He got out of his truck and went into the house, his gun drawn.
He knew he was in the right place: he could hear muffled screams somewhere.
He followed the sound into the kitchen.
***
Cowles licked the blood – her blood – off the knife. "I think you’re scared enough to eat," he said.
He fumbled with his pants.
Lenore screamed.
"No?" asked Cowles in mock surprise. "No loving, my dear?" He raised the knife high over his head. "That’s all right, I guess. You taste fine as you are."
And he plunged the knife down.
***
Jason rushed down the stairs in time to see Cowles stab at L
enore with the large knife he held.
"No!" screamed Jason, and shot. Cowles jerked once, the knife missing Lenore and embedding itself harmlessly on the wooden work bench he had tied Lenore to.
Cowles, bleeding but still smiling, pulled the knife free and raised it to again attempt to skewer Lenore.
This time Jason took no chances. He emptied almost his entire clip into the rapist’s body, the demon’s body. "You…can’t…have her!" he shouted. Cowles jerked and jittered, a marionette with cut strings.
The madman took a step toward Jason. Another. He held the knife high.
"I will have her," said Cowles.
"No," said Jason, and shot again. The man fell. Jason went and stood over him, then fired one more time, point blank into the rapist’s face. "I won’t let you," he said as the clip popped, the last bullet spent.
Jason pulled his pocket knife from his belt. Lenore was shaking in clear terror at how close she had come to dying, shaking her head in denial.
"It’s okay," said Jason as he sliced off her cords. "It’s okay, you’re safe now." He removed her gag. She was still shaking her head.
"No," she finally managed as soon as the gag was off.
"It’s okay," Jason repeated. "I got him this time."
"No," said Lenore, and looked at him with shining eyes. "You can’t kill my fear."
And as soon as she said that, Jason heard Cowles rise up again behind him. Jason spun and shot, but the gun simply clicked on a dry chamber.
"Out of bullets?" said Cowles in mock pity. "So sad." And he stabbed Jason. Nothing fancy, just directly into his chest, an upward stab that reached through his body cavity and pierced Jason’s heart.
Jason had only a moment to be surprised before he fell.
***
TWENTY SIX
***
Lenore watched Jason fall and screamed. Then she screamed again as the stricken sheriff grabbed at her leg from where he had fallen.
"Run," gasped Jason, then closed his eyes and was silent.
Cowles again licked the blood from his knife. Lenore rushed past him, screaming, and the demon laughed. "Run all you like, sweetheart." She turned in time to see Cowles stab Jason again, then kick him hard. Jason’s blood spilled, mingling with the bloodstains that were already on the floor. It must be Sean Rand’s house, she realized with terror. This was where the monster was born.