314 (Widowsfield Trilogy)
Page 30
“Take my hand,” said Alma as she reached out for Aubrey.
“No!” The spirit lunged from the walkway, lashing out at Alma. “She’s mine now. I’ll use her to watch you.”
Alma fell back as the spirit pulled Aubrey further down. The young bartender was lowered to her waist, trapped within the cement, and succumbed as the woman pulled her even further. Aubrey tried to speak, but blood came from her mouth instead of words, spilling out onto the walkway like vomit, and chunks of meat and flesh were mixed in the puddle. A strip of pink flesh hung from her lips, still attached to some part of her innards, and her mouth continued to open and close as if she was trying to tell Alma something.
The woman below pulled Aubrey even further down, sinking the girl to her chest as Alma backed away in terror.
“I’m so sorry,” said Alma as she watched Aubrey’s head bob. Gore flowed from the girl’s mouth, adding to the pool of blood and flesh on the sidewalk. Then the spirit’s hand rose to grasp Aubrey’s face, and her finger sunk into the bartender’s empty eye socket before tugging her below. The pool of blood rippled where Aubrey had been.
“Oh God,” said Alma as she tried to stand up. She knew she should run, but she was nearly too weak to move. The pool of blood seemed to slither across the pavement, running in thin streams towards her like a squid’s tendrils.
“Ma’am,” said a young boy’s voice.
Alma screamed out in terror and clasped her hand over her heart as she looked back toward Main Street where a group of children had gathered. There were at least twenty of them, wearing thin coats and backpacks over their shoulders. She’d never seen them before, yet they were still familiar. They were all boys, some older and taller than others, but all of them were elementary age.
“What are you?” Alma screamed her question. She was still seated, and crawled backward, away from the mob of school children. Her hand slapped into the pool of Aubrey’s blood, which initiated another cry of horror from her. “What do you want with me?”
“We’re alone here now, but we don’t have much time,” said the boy at the front of the group. He was chubby, with blue eyes and a buzzcut. There were red speckles on his cheeks, and he held a knife in his right hand that was dripping blood.
“Don’t have time for what?” Alma was frantic as she cowered from the children.
An alarm roared over the town, and the children were startled by it. It sounded like a tornado warning, but with a lower tone and far more ominous. Each time the alarm sounded, it seemed to grow louder until it was shaking the ground, causing Aubrey’s blood to splash.
“You have to go where the witch was.” The boy tried to scream over the alarm.
“What?” asked Alma, unsure that she heard him correctly.
“Go where the witch was! Where the girls are headed.”
“Who’s the witch?” asked Alma, but the boy couldn’t hear her anymore. The alarm was so loud now that it hurt their ears. The children winced and covered the sides of their heads. Alma did the same, but kept yelling out her question until the pain from the alarm was impossible to overcome. She closed her eyes and fell to the ground where Aubrey’s blood wet her cheek.
Then it was over, and Alma felt her stomach lurch, just like it did when she descended the hill on her way into Widowsfield.
* * *
Jacker was driving the van as they left Widowsfield.
Stephen was in the passenger seat and was toying with his camera. Rachel, Alma, and Aubrey were in the back, crunched together on the middle seat. The entire rear seat of the van was loaded with Stephen’s equipment, which required the girls to all sit together.
“I can’t wait to get home,” said Rachel. “I’m going to sleep for, like, twelve hours straight.”
Alma had her hands in her coat pocket and was rubbing her thumb against a small piece of soft fabric on her keychain. The sensation soothed her.
“My eye won’t stop watering,” said Aubrey. “And I’ve got the worst stomach ache.”
“Stop the van!” Alma’s sudden outburst scared everyone in the vehicle. She leapt from her seat between Aubrey and Rachel and grabbed at Jacker’s shoulder as she pleaded again, “Stop the van!”
Jacker hit the brakes and the van skid to a stop on the road leaving Widowsfield. It was foggy out, and there was a heaviness to the air that hinted of rain. Alma felt lost for breath as the others asked what was wrong.
A car honked from behind them, and then swerved to go around. The car’s tires squealed as it passed on the wet road and Alma caught a glimpse of the driver.
It was her father.
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