314 (Widowsfield Trilogy)

by A. R. Wise

  The world around him was silenced, although he could see the chaos happening without him. He saw Alma on the floor, rocking as she stared at the number, and felt Stephen try to pull at his arm as he headed outside with Rachel. Paul turned to watch Stephen leave, and then saw the flash of gunfire.

  Stephen fell dead as Rachel screamed, though Paul heard nothing but the chattering teeth as time slowed to a crawl. “I’m going to let you see the truth. You’ll know why we have to protect Alma,” said the voice behind the teeth.

  Another gunshot shook the walls, and more blood spilled out across the floor. As the demon held him, Paul saw nothing but death. He watched his friends being murdered. Stephen and Rachel laid on the floor of the cabin, face up, and their clothes rapidly became soaked with blood from wounds that Paul couldn’t see. Then he looked at Alma, and saw that she was staring back up at him. He wanted to reach out to her, but he was paralyzed by the demon whose teeth still chattered in his mind.

  Then Alma’s chest exploded as another gunshot reverberated through the home. She didn’t recoil from the blast, and Paul watched her calmly look back down at the number on the floor as blood poured out of the gunshot wound on her chest. She continued to stare at the number, unfazed by the attack.

  And then Paul’s vision faded as he accepted The Skeleton Man’s truth.

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 1996

  Ben got up to answer the door as his sister stayed on the couch. Terry’s dog, the mangy, one-eyed creature that she insisted was a good dog but just hated kids, was in his cage in the kitchen. The dog barked and growled as someone knocked on the front door.

  “Shush, Killer,” said Ben as went to the door, but his command seemed to incite the dog rather than calm it.

  “Hello?” he asked as he opened the door.

  “Hello there little man,” said the chubby stranger. He was older, with a buzzcut and beady eyes. His lower jaw jut forth and when he talked his lower teeth stuck out like a cartoon of a dumb dog. “My name’s Desmond, and this is Raymond.” He put his hand on the back of a boy that was standing slightly behind him.

  “Hi,” said Raymond, who looked remarkably similar to his father.

  “I’m looking for my daughter, Terry. Is she here?”

  “Who is it?” asked Ben’s father as he descended the stairs. He saw Desmond at the door and exhaled as if disappointed. “Oh.”

  “Hello, Michael,” said Desmond, his tone darker.

  “What do you want?” asked Ben’s father.

  “I need to talk to Terry.”

  “Well, she’s busy.”

  “I’m not trying to pester her, or you. If you two want to rot away in this place, I just don’t have the energy to care anymore. I just need the keys to our cabin in Forsythe. I’m taking my boy out there for a fishing trip. We already paid the fees, but I’d rather not spend the money on a hotel if possible.”

  “Yeah, well, I think she’s already planning on heading out there tomorrow,” said Ben’s father. He stayed on the stairs, and Desmond stayed outside. Ben was caught between the awkward standoff.

  “Well, she’s just going to have to change her plans.”

  Ben’s father smelled his fingers, and then wiped them off on his already dirty t-shirt. “Maybe you’re going to have to change yours.” He put his hand on the wall, where the alcove from the stairs met the ceiling of the first floor. He tilted forward and then back again as he spoke. “We were going to take my kids fishing out there.”

  “No you weren’t,” said Desmond. “All you two ever do is sit in her room and smoke dope. Don’t try to pretend like there’s anything else going on here than that.”

  “You know, you’ve got a big mouth, old man.”

  “Raymond,” said Desmond to his son, “go to the car. We’re going to leave soon, just wait for me.”

  “No, Daddy,” said Raymond. “Can we please just go? We can use the key in the rock, out by the river. We don’t need Terry’s key. Please, Daddy, I just want to go. Let’s go see Grace and have some food. Okay? Can we please go?”

  “Yeah, Daddy,” said Ben’s father with a mocking tone. “Go see Grace.” He flipped Desmond off with both hands as he bit his lower lip.

  “You’re scum,” said Desmond.

  “Get the fuck off Terry’s property,” said Ben’s father as he kept his middle fingers raised.

  Desmond walked away, and Ben closed the door while Killer continued to bark. “Sorry about that, Daddy,” said Ben.

  “What did I tell you about answering the door?” asked his father.

  “You never told us not to answer the door,” said Alma from the couch. She put her hands over her mouth after daring to speak up. Their father glared down at them both, his eyes wide and his fists clenched.

  “Do you guys want me to make you walk the dog?” he asked with a malicious grin.

  “No,” said Ben as he looked at the growling beast behind the bars. “He bites us.”

  “Then don’t disobey me again,” said their father. “And don’t come upstairs. Terry and I are busy. Understand?”

  “Yes,” said Ben.

  “Yes what?” asked their father.

  “Yes, sir,” said Alma and Ben simultaneously.

  “You’d better understand,” he said as he slowly went back up the stairs.

  They waited for the bedroom door to close, and then sighed in relief.

  “I hate him so much,” said Alma.

  Ben went back to the couch where they had a hoard of snacks and empty juice boxes. He hopped on the cushions and a mess of pretzel pieces flew into the air. “Don’t say that,” said Ben. “He’s our Dad. You only get one Dad.”

  “Well, I wish we got a different one.”

  Ben reached across their mountain of wrappers and juice boxes to take his sister’s hand. She was younger than him by two years, and suffered their father’s rage more frequently than Ben. Over the years, he’d tried to protect Alma, but their father seemed intent upon scrutinizing the girl’s every move. Nothing Alma ever did was good enough for their father, and Ben was always trying to convince the eight-year-old that she wasn’t worthless like their father said.

  “You’ll always have me.”

  “Thanks, Ben.”

  Killer continued to growl as he spun in his cage, trying to get comfortable on the worn towel that he was given as a blanket. Ben looked cautiously over at the cage and muttered, “I wish we could get rid of that dog.”

  “We should just open the door and let him go,” said Alma.

  Ben chuckled and said, “Yeah right. Then he’d go infect everyone with rabies or something.”

  “What’s rabies?” asked Alma.

  Ben didn’t know, but lied anyhow, “It’s a disease that dogs get. It makes them real mean and they go around biting people and giving them rabies too. It’s real bad. I think it’s kind of like what causes werewolves. I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.”

  “Do you think he’s got rabies?” asked Alma as she dared to look over at Killer’s cage.

  Ben shrugged. “I dunno, but there’s something wrong with him.”

  “Well, we can’t let him out if he’s a werewolf,” said Alma as she pulled her knees up to her chest while sitting on the couch.

  “Do you want to watch Toy Story again?” asked Ben, wanting to change the subject.

  “Sure,” said Alma, forlorn and distant.

  “It’ll only be forty five minutes until the school lets out,” said Ben. “Aren’t you happy about that?”

  “I guess so,” said Alma.

  “I wonder if Jim and Laura are going to be holding hands,” said Ben as he got the video tape out of the basket beside the television stand.

  “You don’t even know if that’s their real names,” said Alma.

  Ben always knew when Alma was upset by the way she refused to play along with his games. Their annual vacation in Missouri was a boring exercise for them, spent watching the same movies over and over whil
e their father stayed upstairs with the red-haired girl named Terry.

  “What’s bugging you, Alma?” asked Ben. “You’re acting weird.”

  “I’m just sick of it,” said Alma. “I hate him so much. I’m going to tell Mom that I don’t want to come out here anymore.”

  Ben finished loading the VHS tape and returned to the couch. “No, Alma, you can’t do that. You know what he’ll do. You can’t tell Mom.”

  “I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care if he does kill me.”

  “Don’t say that.” Ben pushed the garbage off the couch between them and scooted over to sit beside his sister. He put his arm around her and set her head on his shoulder. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to survive in our crazy family. We have to protect each other. I need you, little sis.”

  “I need you too,” said Alma as she hugged Ben.

  The movie started and they settled into their seat. They’d seen the movie far too many times already, but it was the only new movie in the basket this year. All of the others had been here the last time they were forced to camp on the couch for a week, and they’d watched all of them more times than they cared to remember.

  Ben tried to keep Alma focused on the movie, but his sister became bored while watching it. She continued to stare out the window, as if hoping something interesting might happen outside. Alma was the first to notice the fog.

  “Ben, look,” she said and got off the couch.

  She went to the window and climbed onto the loveseat that was pushed up against the wall beneath. Ben glanced out to see what she was looking at. A thick smoke was billowing forth from something down the street. It was a light grey cloud, but swelled as if made of foam or liquid. Then the cloud flashed with green light and the hair on Ben’s arms stood straight up as if he’d been shocked. “Alma, get away from the window.”

  “What is that?” she asked, still perched on the loveseat in front of the window.

  “I don’t know, get away from there.”

  “Do you think it’s a fire?” asked Alma as she continued to ignore her brother’s command.

  He grabbed the back of her dress and pulled her off the loveseat. The fog swept over the street and started to blot out the sun, causing the cabin to grow dark. Green lightning flashed within the cloud, and it crackled along the frame of the cabin.

  Soon the fog enveloped the house, blocking out all of the light except for what was coming from upstairs. Killer yapped furiously and spun in his tiny cage.

  Ben gazed at the stairs, transfixed upon the light beaming down.

  “I need to go tell Dad,” said Ben.

  “No!” Alma took her brother’s arm with both of hers. “You know you can’t. You can’t go up there.”

  “I have to. I have to make sure he knows what’s going on.”

  “He’ll kill you, Ben. Please don’t go up there.”

  He pulled out of her grip and went to the stairs. The green electricity continued to flash and illuminate the living room, casting wicked shadows on the walls. He reached the bottom of the stairs as Alma continued to plead with him to stop, but he knew that he had to tell their father what was happening. Ben raced up, choosing to face his fears without hesitation. The light in the upstairs hallway was still on, but it flickered as he made his way to the master bedroom door.

  He knocked, but heard no response.

  He tried again, and thought he heard someone in the room choking. Ben put his ear to the door, and was certain of what he heard. “Dad?” he asked and knocked again. The choking persisted, and no one answered him.

  Ben pushed the door open.

  Terry was on the floor, nude, and her hands were shaking as her head flopped back and forth. Her red hair was mopped with sweat and her eyes were aflame with red veins. She turned and stared at Ben and white foam formed on her lips as she tried to speak. The foam fell from her mouth and dripped to the floor as she reached out to him.

  Ben’s father appeared in the master bedroom’s bathroom. He had a cup of water in his hand and stopped when he saw Ben. “What did I tell you?” He screamed and dropped the cup of water. It bounced on the floor at his feet and water spilled out as the furious man charged through the room.

  “What happened?” asked Ben, terrified.

  “You little mother fucker, I told you not to come in here.” Michael Harper grabbed his son by the arm and slapped the boy across the face. Then he slammed Ben’s head into the door as he continued to curse at him.

  Tears sprang to Ben’s eyes as he screamed an apology. He could hear Alma crying at the bottom of the stairs, pleading with their father not to hurt Ben.

  “Get in here, you little shit.” He pulled Ben into the room. “Alma, shut up and stay down there.”

  “Daddy,” said Alma. “There’s smoke outside.”

  “I don’t give a fuck if the Devil’s at the door, girl. You shut up and watch your movie. If I hear one peep out of you, I swear to God I’ll kill you.” He slammed the door and then turned to Ben. “Well, kid, you did it now. You fucked up for real this time.”

  “What’s wrong? What happened to Terry?”

  “She’s dying, that’s what’s wrong. The bitch OD’ed.”

  “Should we call an ambulance?”

  “No,” said his father. “No, that’s not what we’re going to do. You’re going to help me get her up.”

  Terry started to convulse and her arms slapped against the floor as her head bounced. The white foam spewed from her mouth, followed by a putrid yellow fluid that splashed on her cheeks.

  “Clean the shit out of her mouth,” said Ben’s father. “I’ll get some more water for her.”

  “Daddy, she’s naked.”

  He looked at Ben as if disgusted. “So what? You’re the one that came in here when you weren’t supposed to. It’s time to grow the fuck up, Ben. Now scoop that shit out of her mouth.”

  Ben moved on his knees over to the shaking woman. Her breasts flopped around as she shook, and he was ashamed to look at her. The veins in her chest and neck were blue, engorged, and easily visible through her pale skin. He tried to put his hand on her head to hold her down and clean the foam out of her mouth, but the contact of his hand alerted her to his presence. She reached out and clawed at his head and shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him down.

  “Dad!” Ben screamed as the woman grasped at him. “Help!”

  His father ran back in the room, but Terry’s arms fell suddenly limp. They hit the floor and only had the strength to twitch. Ben fell backward and scooted away as he wiped foam and bile from his shirt.

  “What did you do?” asked his father.

  “Nothing. I tried to help, like you said, but she grabbed me.”

  His father bent down and placed his fingers on Terry’s throat. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ben. You killed her.”

  “I didn’t, Dad. I swear!”

  “Well she’s dead. She’s dead, Ben. She’s dead now!”

  “I didn’t do anything.” Ben started to cry. “I was trying to help.”

  “Well, now we’re fucked. You killed her.”

  “Dad,” said Ben. “You have to believe me, I didn’t do anything to her.”

  “Stop panicking,” said his father. “We’ll figure this out. I’m not going to let you go to jail. Okay, Ben? I’ll protect you.” He stood up tall and started to look around the room with his hand on his chin, as if surveying the scene in search of clues.

  He snapped his fingers and pointed at Ben. “I’ve got a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “Okay,” said Ben. “What do you need?”

  “Go downstairs and start boiling some pots of water. Then get all of the cleaners from under the sink. Don’t ask questions, just do what I say.” He bent down and put his arms under Terry as he started to drag her toward the bathroom.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He dropped Terry and her body thumped on the floor as he stood and glared at Ben. “What did I just
say? No fucking questions. Go do as I say or they’re going to put you in jail for this.”

  Ben wiped his tears away and ran back downstairs.

  “What happened?” asked Alma, but Ben ignored her as he went to the kitchen. She followed and asked again, “Ben, what happened? Did you tell him about the smoke? Ben, talk to me.”

  “I can’t, Alma.” He got a pot out and started to fill it in the sink.

  “The smoke is getting thicker, Ben. What are you going to do with that water? Ben, stop ignoring me. What happened upstairs?”

  “Alma, shut up,” said Ben, and the verbal assault stunned his sister. “You’ve got to just shut up and go watch your movie. Dad and I are doing adult things. Okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay. Why are you being mean to me?”

  He put the first pot on the stove and turned the burner to high. Then he went to fill another. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “I’m going upstairs,” said Alma in defiance.

  “No!”

  “Why not? You went up there, and Dad didn’t kill you. I’m going up there too.”

  Ben grabbed his sister and threw her to the floor. “You do as you’re told! Stay down here.”

  “Stop being mean to me,” said Alma, and her voice cracked as she started to cry. Her tears broke Ben’s heart, but he had to do everything he could to keep her downstairs.

  “Do as you’re told, Alma.” Ben set the second pot on the stove and then started to gather the cleaning supplies. He went back upstairs with his arms full of various bottles for his father.

  Ben found him in the bathroom. Michael had dragged Terry into the tub where she looked almost alive, her head drooped to the side as she sat against the porcelain. Ben’s father took the bottles one by one. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaking as he inspected the cleaners. He was biting his nails down too far and had caused a few of his fingers to bleed. Ben was terrified, but stayed stoic, hoping to impress his father.

  “All right,” said his father as he continued to chew his nails. “This is what we’re going to do. This bitch is dead, and we’re going to have to get rid of her body. I know we can do it. Okay?”