by Michael Bray
He had been contemplating killing himself for almost two years. With all their money lost when Hope House went up in flames, his first thought was to take out a sizable life insurance policy on himself and just disappear. When he was presumed dead, Melody and Isaac would get a nice payout to see them comfortably for the rest of their lives.
The idea was put on ice because no insurance company would touch him. Since the fire and the injuries he’d sustained, he wasn’t seen as a viable candidate.
As he always did on nights like this when his sleep was broken, he sat in his chair, the one only he used, stiff-backed and uncomfortable, but which made it easier for him to get up and down without assistance. He would sit there in the gloom, unable to sleep, desperate for a little respite from the constant pain plaguing his waking hours. Now, he closed his eyes and listened to the constant honk and grind of the city traffic.
II
Six year old Isaac Samson kicked his football around the garden, whooping with delight as he ran with tireless energy. Inside the house, Melody watched her son, feeling like an absolute failure.
“Everything okay?” Rebecca said, setting a cup of coffee down in front of her sister and joining her in watching her nephew.
“I’m fine, just… I don’t know. I hate how he gets this excited about playing in a garden. This shouldn’t feel like a special privilege to him.”
“After everything you said happened, it’s understandable – you didn’t want a garden of your own.”
“What I say happened?” Melody said, watching her younger sibling carefully.
“You know what I mean, all that… paranormal stuff.”
“You still don’t believe me, even after all this time?”
“What I believe doesn’t matter,” Rebecca said. “You and Steve survived. Everything else is unimportant.”
“I didn’t lie, Becca. Everything I told you happened, actually happened.”
Rebecca chewed her lip, and glanced out of the window, then turned back to Melody.
“Look,” she said, choosing her words with care. “Even if the things you say are true—”
“—They are,”
“—Even so, even if it was as you say or a combination of stress or taking on too much, the fact is a man came into your house and tried to kill you. Then with the fire… well, we’re just grateful you’re alive. You should be, too.”
Melody made no outward reaction. Inside, she screamed. Flashes from the past came with cruel clarity, their memory refusing to fade with the years.
“I am, really.”
Even as she said it, she could smell the forest, and could hear Donovan, his panting breath growing closer as he charged through the brush after her. She recalled the words he had said to her just before she’d managed to flee.
“They want me to show you, they want me to
teach you a lesson.”
That’s when he’d unbuckled his belt and tried to push himself onto her. There was something in his eyes, something beyond human as he grunted at her while she lay on the floor.
“You had this coming, don’t try to deny it.”
She suppressed a shudder, and stared at her son out of the window. As frustrating as it was, she no longer got angry – their account of what happened hadn’t been believed. Soon after the accident, whilst waiting in the hospital for Steve to come out of surgery, she broke down and told Rebecca everything. Although she listened without comment, it soon became obvious she didn’t believe a word of it, either. Since then she’d barely spoken of it, and hadn’t told the truth to anyone since.
“Hey, Mel… I’m here for you, you know?”
The sisters locked eyes, and Melody nodded.
“I do, it’s just… It’s hard, you know?”
“I can only imagine. How’s Steve?”
“Pretty much the same. He still won’t leave the house.”
“Maybe there’s someone you could talk to…”
Melody shook her head. “No, he has his reasons. I have to give him time.”
“It’s been years, Mel. He’s missed birthdays, Christmases, pretty much every family get-together since the accident. It seems unfair to leave it all on you.”
“You have no idea what he did for me,” she snapped, feeling the color flush into her cheeks. “He gave up everything to save me, and I won’t have a bad word said about him.”
“Hey, okay, just relax. I didn’t mean anything by it. All I’m saying is he could do more to help you with Isaac.”
Any further conversation was halted by the sound of the door slamming off the wall, and Isaac charging down the short hallway.
“There’s a man here!” he exclaimed as he entered the room.
“I’ll go see who it is,” Rebecca said.
“No, not for you, aunt Becca, he asked to talk to you, mommy.”
“Are you sure?” Rebecca said.
“Yes,” Isaac confirmed. “He asked to speak to Melody Samson.”
Melody’s stomach tightened and she glanced at her sister, who picked up on the signals sent without a single word having to be uttered between them.
“Hey, junior, how about you and I go make a sandwich?”
Isaac frowned, perhaps sensing the discomfort, then grinned, nodding his head.
“Yeah, can I have cheese?”
“You can have whatever you like,” Rebecca answered, ruffling Isaac’s blonde hair.
“Come on, you can butter the bread whilst I cut the cheese.”
Isaac charged away and grabbed the bread as Rebecca looked at Melody.
“Does anyone know you’re here?” she said quietly.
“No,” Melody said, shaking her head. “Nobody even knows where we moved to. We didn’t want to be found.”
“Want me to go and get rid of them?”
“No, whoever it is knows I’m here. I’ll deal with this.”
“Are you sure? I can come with if you need me to.”
Melody smiled, the expression tired and without humor. “I’m not as weak as I used to be, Becca. I can handle this. You just keep an eye on Isaac for me.”
Rebecca hugged her sister, clutching her tightly.
“When the hell did you get so damn strong?”
Melody beamed as she pulled away. “I had no choice. Everything that’s happened…”
“I get it,” Rebecca said with a smile. “You don’t need to say anymore.”
“Aunt Becca, come on!” Isaac yelled from behind them.
The sisters smiled at each other, then went their separate ways, Rebecca to the kitchen, and Melody outside to see her mystery visitor.
III
The man stood outside the gate in front of a black Mercedes. He was tall and thin, and clad in a cheap-looking suit which, even at a distance, Melody could see was a bad fit. She approached, remaining cautious. Whoever this man was there was a very official vibe about him. Melody stopped five feet short of the garden gate and looked at him. He looked back, his gaze cool and blue as he watched her.
“Melody Samson?” he said, his tone as expressionless as his features.
“Why do you want to know?”
“It depends.”
She shuffled her feet, and looked the man in the eyes, which seemed to be the only part of him with any semblance of life. There was a shifty brilliance to them. He snorted, a short bark of laughter.
“Let’s just cut to the chase. I know you are who I’m looking for, I was just being courteous.”
She was careful not to confirm or deny anything.
“Who are you?” she asked, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
“My name is Goodson. I represent Henry Marshall.”
“Never heard of him.”
“No, I don’t expect you have,” Goodson said, a small smile forming on his lips. “You didn’t stay in our town long enough to become acquainted.”
Her stomach plummeted, and she subconsciously balled her fists.
“You’re from Oakwell?”
“Me personally? No.” he said, shaking his head. “As I said, I’m just here in representation of Councilor Marshall.”
“I haven’t lived in Oakwell for almost eight years.”
“Indeed, I’m led to believe your stay was only short before you left.”
She chose not to respond directly. The line of questioning seemed to be leading her in a direction she didn’t want to go. Instead, she decided to go offensive, something the meek, timid Melody of old would never have done.
“What do you want? More to the point, how did you find me?”
“My client wants to discuss a business proposition with you. As to how I found you, well, let’s just say it’s my job to find people. Even those who don’t necessarily want to be found.”
She shook her head. “Tell Mr. Marshall I have no interest in any proposition, business or otherwise. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Goodson frowned, then morphed the expression into a smile.
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet. I have driven a long way to find you.”
“I’m not interested. As I said, sorry for wasting your time.”
“It would be in your own interests to hear me out, especially taking your … financial difficulties into account.”
She strode to the fence, now standing just a foot away from Goodson who, up close was much smaller than he first appeared.
“I have no idea where you get your information from, Mr. Goodson. I can assure you any idea of financial difficulties is untrue.”
“Really?” he said, his smile telling her he saw through her lie. “I could go into detail if you like?”
“I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Goodson. However I don’t appreciate these borderline threats.”
“Threats? I apologize if I was rude, Mrs. Samson, it wasn’t my intention. I just think it’s important we stop beating around the bush.”
“Frankly, whatever it is you think you know doesn’t change the fact I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”
“You should be. I know the fire at Hope House left you in a… difficult position financially. It would really be in your interest to listen to what I have to say.”
She shifted her gaze to the envelope in Goodson’s hand.
“What is it you want?”
Goodson smiled and handed the envelope to Melody. “Everything is explained in there. You and your husband should discuss it together. If…”
She tore open the envelope as Goodson looked on and pulled out the paperwork inside, leafing through them. There was a glossy mock-up of a medium-sized hotel and two contracts along with a letter direct from Henry Marshall. As she read, she was filled with a mixture of dread and anger.
“You can’t do this, you can’t build there…”
She swallowed hard, knowing her voice was wavering.
“I know this is a shock, which is why I suggested you and your husband read this together. However since you have already opened the package, let me assure you Councilor Marshall is prepared to offer you a very generous financial compensation for your endorsement of the hotel.”
“Are you people insane? You know what happened there?” She screamed, hating the fact she must sound completely crazy, which was supported by the smug look on Goodson’s face.
“I understand the fire and the resulting injuries to your husband had a severe emotional impact on your lives, which is why, if you check page six of the document, Mr. Marshall is also prepared to settle all of Mr. Samson’s outstanding medical bills if you agree to participate. As I understand, they are quite substantial.”
“You don’t understand. Tell whoever’s in charge they can’t build there, it’s not safe.”
“I appreciate the claims you and your husband are said to have made about certain paranormal events—”
“It’s a fact. Check the history of the place.”
“However,” Goodson continued, “we found no evidence of anything on the site to suggest anything other than a fire caused by an intruder which, incidentally, is concurrent with the statements given to the police by both you and your husband.”
Melody glared at Goodson and tossed the envelope at him, watching as the papers fluttered around his feet.
“Forget it,” she said as he scrambled to pick them up. “You can’t buy us. We won’t get involved with this. First thing tomorrow I’m going to set about opposing the building of this hotel; it isn’t safe.”
Goodson actually showed a brief flicker of anger, hissing at Melody as he snatched the papers out of the dirt.
“This is a chance to drag yourselves out of the gutter. It’s a chance to stop living without knowing what tomorrow will bring. Don’t let pride get in the way of an opportunity like this.”
She was angry now, and as much as she hated letting Goodson see her weakness, she began to cry.
“Don’t you think we’ve suffered enough? You seem to know everything already. If not, let me tell you. My husband is unwell. He’s been struggling to cope with the fallout from the fire for the last eight years, and all the money in the world couldn’t make me burden him with this.”
“If you don’t, you won’t get another opportunity like this. It’s a chance to re-join society. Don’t be hasty.”
“We don’t need money, Mr. Goodson. We may have struggled to get by, a lot of people do. However we do it, we manage. Our rent is always paid, and food is always on the table. Sure enough, we can’t afford expensive holidays or luxury cars like yours, and it doesn’t matter. We’re happy. We just want to be left alone.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, however I can’t help wondering if that’s how you really feel when you’re sitting up into the night wondering how you’re going to feed your son the next day?”
“Get out of here. Leave us alone. Tell Councilor Marshall I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this hotel never gets built.”
Goodson nodded, and stretched his lips into a smile of sorts, then walked to his car.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said as he opened the door and tossed the screwed up papers onto the passenger seat. “There is one thing you should know. Trying to stop the build just won’t work. It’s already done.”
Melody felt her stomach plummet into her feet, then rocket back up to her throat.
“It’s built?”
“As near as,” Goodson said, apparently reveling in her reaction. “Whatever you decide, it will open. There is nothing that can be done to stop it. While it’s true we’d like you to be involved, we don’t need you. We will open to the public with or without you. Do yourself a favor and think about it.”
“Mr. Goodson, please. If you go ahead, you risk putting everyone involved with it in danger.”
Goodson snorted and smiled. “I don’t believe in ghosts, Mrs. Samson. Real life is horrific enough as it is.”
Melody watched as he climbed into his car and drove away. As the dust thrown up by the vehicle shrank into the distance, she felt Isaac’s hand grasp hers.
“What did the man want?” he asked, squinting against the sun.
“Nothing, he was looking for something.”
“Did you help him find it?”
“No, not this time,” she mumbled, then turned to Isaac and smiled. “Come on, let’s go inside for a while.”
“I want to play outside,” he whined.
“Maybe later, it’s getting cold. Come on, maybe Aunt Becca will let you watch cartoons for a while?”
“Yeah!”
Isaac raced ahead with Melody following, trying to convince herself the reason for making her son go indoors wasn’t because of the sound of the wind moving through the trees.
CHAPTER 6
The videos Scott & Cody had shot at the Hope House site became a viral sensation on the internet; at least as far as their respective school friends were concerned. They were all at the town hall where, twice a week during the evenings, the councilors went home, and the hall acted as a youth club o
f sorts; somewhere for bored teenagers to get together and socialize. This particular Tuesday evening, there were around twenty in attendance, the bulk of which were comprised of Scott and Cody’s group. Although the two boys made a show of enjoying their recent burst in popularity, they were uncomfortable talking about what had happened that afternoon, and neither particularly wanted to go along with the plan of their friend, Alex Brett, who was a year older than both of them. Their other friends looked on, a collection of perpetually moody misfits and gothic types with haunted eyes and pallid complexions. Cody still wasn’t quite sure how they became involved with this group at all, then his eyes found Emma, and he remembered. He had been flirting with her on and off for the last few months, and although initially unresponsive, he noticed more and more the attention she was paying him. He caught her looking again, quickly averting her eyes when she saw he’d noticed.
“What’s the matter, you scared?” Alex said, grinning his mouthful of crooked, ugly looking teeth.
“Don’t be stupid,” Cody countered, feeling confident knowing Emma was watching. “Why would we be afraid? I just don’t see the point. We’ve been up there before.”
“Yeah, not at night though.”
“Night or day, the place is creepy,” Scott cut in, locking eyes with Cody for a split second.
“Which is exactly why we should go!” Alex replied, feeding on the attention. “Just imagine it. A couple of tents, a few beers and some weed. We can make a night of it. Camp out there where it all happened.”
Cody shrugged and shook his head, even as inside he recoiled at the thought of being there after dark. “I really don’t think there’s any point. There’s nothing else to see up there.”
“Come on man,” Alex said, looking to the others for support. “Everyone knows it’s gonna be different after dark. Any pussy can go up there during the day, hell, especially now with the hotel being built. After dark though… that would be a different story.”
“I just don’t see the point.”
“Come on, grow some balls. Have you seen the YouTube comments on the last video you posted? Do you know how many people have begged you to go back and film some more? Can you imagine how cool it will look as a night shoot? Come on man, this will be amazing!”