So we finally meet. Face to face.
Despite what Jhonnette had told him, he still couldn’t believe the man was his father.
“It’s time,” the ghoul said, pointing above them.
Fear transformed to adrenaline as he followed Randy’s gesture and saw the noose hanging high above his head.
* * * * *
Coral didn’t want to help Randy, but she didn’t see any other option. The moment she laid eyes on her newly disfigured husband, she knew no one was leaving this house alive. The best she could do was try not to anger him, in hopes that he might grant her a swift exit.
“Coral, get over here,” Randy barked.
Coral couldn’t move. Her acute awareness of her impending demise, coupled with her visceral fear of the man she used to love had rendered her frozen and mute.
“Guess I’m gonna have to do this all by myself,” Randy said. “Luc was a lucky bastard. He had a whole mob to help him. And I’ve got…you. Here.” Randy placed a strange gun with a long, thin muzzle inside her shaking palm. “Make yourself useful and hold this.”
She looked at the gun like it was a poisonous spider that would sink its stinger into her if she dared move. Hours earlier, she’d wielded a weapon much bigger than this and shot a man twice. But now, she was utterly paralyzed by fear. It was all she could do to control her bladder.
“You’re fucking useless, Coral,” Randy said, glaring at her. “You know that?” He spat on their living room floor to punctuate his point.
Coral lowered her eyes and saw a molar glistening up from the midst of his bloody saliva. “What…what do you need me to do?”
“One, I need you to stop being so damn skittish. We’re in this together. Two, I need you to go and get Karen.”
Coral almost cried with glee. “Karen? She’s here?”
“Of course she’s here. Now go run and collect her. I’ll have everything setup by the time you get back.”
* * * * *
Karen needed more energy. And more time. She’d already ransacked her room once looking for it. She didn’t dare contemplate what might happen if she couldn’t find it before he came for her.
From her bucking bedroom window, Karen saw a nightmare approaching. A giant funnel of wind and chaos moved across the lake with breathtaking speed. She knew it wouldn’t be long before the tornado borne from the hurricane found its course. Isaac and Melinda were going to destroy everything this time if she didn’t find that damned Sony discman!
Kristopher’s words came swirling out of the past. “There’s a CD already in the player, but you gotta promise me that you won’t play it until I say, okay?”
Karen glanced nervously at the tornado. Was it closer? What if the maid had stolen the discman, or worse, Randy had it?
The Kristopher who lived in her subconscious spoke up. “Stop playing around, kiddo. You know exactly where it is.”
“I’ve looked everywhere!” Karen whined, ready to give up. Then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something blue and circular peeking out from behind her entertainment center.
The discman!
Of course, Karen had listened to the CD as soon as Kristopher gave it to her, but the cryptic message hadn’t made any sense to her. Until now. Now it was the key to everything. Putting the headphones over her ears, she pressed play but got nothing. The batteries were long dead.
Was the damn CD even still in the discman?
Karen opened the CD player. Sure enough, it was empty. Where could she have possibly put Kristopher’s CD? She sat down on her bed pressing her hands to her eyes, desperately trying to remember.
Wait. Hadn’t she listened to it again after her appointment with Dr. Faustus? And hadn’t her father caught her listening to it and she’d…yes, that was it! Karen ran to her dresser and removed the diary she’d begun after Kristopher’s death. Quickly finding the lump in-between the pages, she removed the CD, put it in her combo CD-alarm clock and listened.
Kristopher’s voice came through loud and clear.
Karen had just finished listening to his instructions a second time when her mother barged in.
“Good,” Karen said after they embraced. “Everyone’s here. Quick, we don’t have much time.”
Coral nodded fearfully as Karen explained what they had to do.
* * * * *
Before ascending the spiral staircase with Baker, Randy donned his father’s hood again. Joseph had once told him that the origins of the Klan’s hood and robe could be traced back to ancient European rituals signifying fraternal brotherhood and anonymity in doing good works. Tonight, Randy would perform great work.
He grinned behind the hood, silently lamenting his lack of a robe. The hood also represented a more practical aspect of his task this evening—that of executioner. Randy made sure to separate his personal feelings from the mission at hand. Joseph had been very clear about that point.
Joy would come in the morning; tonight was about solemn duty.
With the gun jammed in Baker’s side, Randy pushed him up the stairs to the second floor landing where his death noose waited. Baker was struggled with his bonds to no avail. Finally, he gave up and stared at the ceiling.
Randy imagined he was praying, which was all right. Even a condemned man deserved a last glimmer of hope. Hadn’t Randy offered the same oration in the seconds before he’d turned the gun on himself? Still, not even God could save Baker from this fate.
* * * * *
The closer he got to the landing, the more Lincoln knew the roof was about to peel away. The wind, which had sounded like muffled whistling from the first floor, was now roaring like the turbines of a 747 engine.
Even castles crumble.
He just prayed he could hold on until this one did.
* * * * *
Karen entered the great room and saw her father fixing a noose around Lincoln Baker’s neck. Through the bay windows, she could see the beastly funnel was closer than ever. Karen fought to stay upright, her frayed nerves nearly overloaded. She honestly didn’t know how much energy she had left, but it would have to be enough.
One way or another, it would all be over soon. She just needed to summon the strength and courage to follow Kristopher’s instructions. But first, she had to set Brandon free. She was going to need his help.
* * * * *
“Hey kiddo,” Kristopher opened the recording. “You just couldn’t wait, could you? It’s okay though. I probably couldn’t have waited either at your age. I really hope that after you hear what I have to say, you can call me in my dorm or apartment and we can have a good laugh at my expense. But something tells me that by the time you hear this, I’ll be long gone. Either way, I need you to know what I know. The curse Abby told us about is very real, very alive, and very dangerous. If you don’t do exactly as I say, when you turn eighteen, Isaac and Melinda will come for you, too. I’m not saying this to scare you; I’m saying this to prepare you. Now this next part is going to sound crazy, kiddo, but it is absolutely essential. You have to destroy that tree—Melinda Weeps. It’s the anchor that holds the curse in place. If you’re hearing this, chances are I didn’t make it back from Simmons Park, which means the tree is still standing. You have to burn it to the ground, kiddo. Your children and grandchildren are all counting on you…”
Kristopher went silent for a few moments and then abruptly said, “One last thing. And I wish there was an easier way to say this, God I do. If you have already turned eighteen by the time you hear this, destroying the tree alone won’t save you. You have to kill Dad. That’s the only way to break this cycle for good. I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but I need to prepare you for all the possibilities. I’m so sorry to burden you with this. I love you… Oh, and before I forget, I left you supplies. Check behind the secret panel in my closet. Everything you need is there.”
* * * * *
Randy wasn’t the only Lafitte great at keeping secrets. Staring at the homemade bombs stockpiled inside Kr
istopher’s closet, Coral wondered what kind of lunacy had possessed her son’s mind in his last days. Karen insisted there was no time for her to listen to the recording; she was going to have to trust her.
Coral picked up two makeshift bombs and looked at them skeptically. Then she noticed four large kerosene canisters.
I don’t even know how this stuff works.
* * * * *
“Duck your head, boy,” Randy said. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
They stood at the summit of the stairs. Randy held the noose with one hand and urged the shuffling nigger forward with the other. Baker resisted the noose with all his might. Damn he was strong.
“Either you put your head in this here rope, or I shoot your friend down there,” Randy said. That did the trick. Baker stopped fighting. His head was almost in the noose when Randy abruptly let go of the noose and slapped his thighs. “I knew I was forgettin’ somethin’!” He went to a chair in the hallway behind him and picked up a serrated butcher knife he’d left there for this occasion. Brandishing it before Lincoln’s wide eyes, he said, “Sometimes I can be too impetuous.”
He gazed down on his father’s portrait and steadied his grip on the knife’s hilt.
* * * * *
Setting foot outside, Coral realized Kristopher had given them an impossible task. Staring at the two canisters of kerosene by her feet, she held onto the staircase railing for dear life. She was afraid that if she let go, she’d go flying off into the turbulent night.
For her children’s sake, she had to make it to that tree. No matter how much the raging wind sounded like some giant, tentacled langolier with a jagged-toothed black hole for a mouth.
“I’m with you, Mom,” Kristopher’s voice spoke up in her mind. “You can do this. You have to.”
Coral took one shaky step away from the railing’s security and then managed another and another, until she stood beneath Melinda Weeps. At least the old tree provided some respite from the rain and wind.
God it was dark under here. Coral unscrewed the top of one canister of kerosene as leaves rained down on her. In moments she was buried up to her calves, the canister lost in a bog of soggy foliage. She heard something other than the wind and swishing leaves. It sounded like an angry mob.
Who would be crazy enough to be out in this kind of weather?
The noise was undeniable. Coral whipped her head left and right but saw nothing.
“Hurry up, Mom,” Kristopher screamed urgently in her head.
Coral doused the base of the tree with the pungent liquid. She’d successfully soaked the roots and base of the tree when abruptly night became day.
She was now standing, not underneath, but in front of a large crowd gathered before Melinda Weeps. Her confused eyes landed on Randy standing a few feet away, dressed in an odd military uniform. He held a parchment in his hands. Behind him, a badly disfigured Lincoln Baker sat atop a large horse with a noose around his neck.
“Too late, Mom,” Kristopher said from right next to her.
Coral stared at her son with tears in her eyes. “What’s happening here, Kristopher?”
“This is how it all started,” he replied sadly.
“We have to do something,” she cried.
“They’re too strong,” Kristopher replied. “I thought I’d found a way to beat them, but I was wrong.”
Coral refused to believe his words.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. It’s night. I’m outside under the tree with leaves around my ankles!
Just like that, Coral could feel the rain and wind again. She felt split between two worlds but kept up her mantra.
The kerosene is in my hands. It’s heavy.
She could feel the weight of the canister.
Randy looked at her, alarmed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What I have to do!”
Randy, Lincoln, and the mob disappeared.
“Quick, Mom. Quick. The matches.”
Coral dug in her pockets and found them. They were soaked. She collapsed to her knees sobbing as a voice said, “Ladies and Gentlemen…”
Coral looked up and saw Randy addressing the mob. “Don’t do this, Randy!” she screamed.
He ignored her pleas and continued, “This slave has been accused of raping my beautiful daughter, Melinda. As the owner of this land and founder of this township, I am exercising the authority vested in me by God, and am hereby punishing him to death by hanging for his crimes.”
* * * * *
Lincoln stared into Randy’s eyes, noticing for the first time the similarity with his own. The ache at this realization somehow hurt more deeply than the gaping gash in his gut where Randy had stabbed him. Lincoln could barely focus. The pain was excruciating. He might bleed out if he didn’t get pressure on the wound soon.
The rough twine of the noose scratched his neck as Lafitte encircled his head with the rope. Then the mansion fell away in a disorienting blur. One reality melted away, only to reveal another right behind the curtain. In this reality, Lincoln sat astride a horse, his hands tied behind his back. The heat was stifling. He and the horse were underneath the shade of a large tree in the front lawn of an antebellum plantation house, the mid-morning sun blinding him.
He looked at his naked body. The damage he saw took his breath away. He was mired in a screaming chorus of swollen insect bites. There was a circular wound of cauterized flesh where his manhood had once been. Lincoln nearly fell off the horse, the pain emanating from his groin was so profound.
What did I do to deserve this?
Lincoln couldn’t remember.
He raised his head and looked upon an angry mob. Their eyes screamed for the sort of retribution only bloodshed could bring. Before them, Randy Lafitte stood with his back to Lincoln, reading from some strange rolled up paper.
Please God, let them hang me and be done with it!
A wave of lightheadedness overtook him as his eyes fell on Coral Lafitte kneeling for some reason in a pile of wet leaves. She held a match. Irrational hope consumed him.
Light it, Coral! Blast this tree to fucking hell!
But Coral cowered as her husband turned to Lincoln and said, “Do you have any last words?”
Lincoln was struck by déjà vu. He’d been here before. He knew what he was supposed to say, but seeing Coral gave him pause.
* * * * *
Karen struggled to get to her feet. To her surprise it was daytime. Light streamed into the house from all angles.
Is it over?
She gazed around, hope turning into despair as she recognized where and when she was. They were too late. Something shifted within her abdomen. There was a kick. Karen looked down, mouth wide.
A baby!
She cradled her protruding belly in wonder. This wonder became dismay as she heard shouting from outside. She went to the open door and saw a crowd of people standing around the tree. A black man sat on a horse wearing a noose around his neck. Her father was addressing the crowd.
I’m not too late! I can stop this!
Karen ran up the stairs with purpose. She made her way into the attic and climbed out the one window, nearly breathless. She stepped out onto the ledge and prepared to jump. Then a voice spoke up from behind her.
“I’ve got you, Karen. Don’t worry.” Arms enfolded her waist pulling her away from destiny.
“No!” she screamed. “I love him. He can’t kill him!”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, girl, but we gotta get out of here.”
Karen turned to see Brandon holding her upright. But that didn’t make any sense. How did he get here?
She looked around and realized they were standing in the living room. She looked up to see her father push Lincoln off the landing.
The first explosion rocked the house as gravity took hold of Lincoln’s body.
* * * * *
Lincoln was cast out into space. He felt the freedom of weightlessne
ss before invisible anchors tethered to his ankles began jerking him to his death. He wondered if the noose around his throat would snap his neck (bringing instant mortality), or slowly strangle the life out of him.
He’d rather go quick.
Everything morphed again as he fell. The great room gave way to the outdoors and the screaming mob. Then the full weight of his body was snapped rigid by the rope around his neck. The noose cinched tight against his jaw, creating an excruciating burning sensation. His already raspy breath was sucked from his lungs, as his neck muscles stretched to the breaking point.
But his neck did not snap.
Inertia swung his body in a semicircle, around to where he knew Melinda and their love child lay dead.
At least we will go together.
But Melinda hadn’t jumped and something was burning. The darkness called to him and Lincoln followed. It felt like falling.
* * * * *
Coral had given up hope when, miraculously, her second-to-last match lit. If she’d been outside the protective canopy of the trees leaves there’s no way the match would have caught fire. Clearly, someone or something was helping her. Unfortunately, it had a very short fuse. Before she could properly light the kerosene-soaked leaves, the fire was nipping at her fingertips. She dropped the match with a cry and was nearly blinded by a greedy burst of flame.
She shielded her eyes and fled from beneath Melinda Weeps, back out into the elements. Behind her, the ancient tree roared in agony. Coral was almost to the front door when an explosion from inside the house tossed her back into the night. Her home was torn open by brilliant bursts of fire.
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