by A. I. Nasser
“This is where we part ways,” David said. “Stay here if you want to, I really don’t care. But don’t even think of following me.”
Stanley Turk lay helpless on the ground as David grabbed his bags, tossed the motel room keys onto the table and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
***
The path was almost impossible to find.
Deborah Adams had spent almost an hour looking for it, searching the tree line behind the Cole house in complete darkness while constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure Michael was not coming after her. She had begun to grow frantic, at one point even willing to risk racing through the woods blind and without direction. But, her mother had assured her there was a path, and Deborah knew that without it, she would never make it to the field beyond without getting completely lost.
When she did finally break through the dense foliage onto the narrow trek, she immediately started forward, ignoring the fact that she had no clue as to what it was she was expected to do once she was at her destination. Alan had only told her to find the tree and wait there, nothing more. Deborah could sense there was something he wasn’t telling her, but she had decided not to press for more information. She would have to trust that he knew what he was doing.
The woods enveloped her, the darkness around her lifeless as the cold seeped through her. It was summer, yet the woods seemed to have forgotten and decided to skip the season altogether. Deborah couldn’t shake the feeling that she was in over her head.
Deborah pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and sighed when she noticed she was getting no service. It was almost midnight, and even with a clear night, there was very little light for comfort. She turned her cell phone off, hoping to save whatever was left of the battery for when she would really need it.
For now, she was on her own.
***
Fiona Bright sat solemnly in her office.
The police station was empty, every officer out in the field trying to control the panic that had broken out everywhere in Melington. The telephones would not stop ringing, and Fiona tried to shut the noise out as she stared aimlessly at the empty desks.
Images flashed before her eyes, guns firing, tear gas exploding, and fire raging. The entirety of the past few hours washed over her in waves, crashing down on her like a heavy weight as she tried to cope with the overwhelming feeling of failure. Until now, she could not understand what had come over her out there, the desire to regain control so strong that she had thrown out all sense of responsibility and moral obligations.
There would be an investigation. There had to be. No one could look back at what she had done and not hold her responsible. She shuddered at the memory of the mob making their way to the police line, how the tear gas had failed to stop them and only made them angrier. She had fired the first shot into the crowd, and a volley of bullets had followed from all around her, tearing through the riot as one body after the other fell.
She remembered Alexandra Bail trying to stop her, shouting at her to stop the craziness, but Fiona had ignored her completely. When the officer had grabbed her, Fiona had lashed out at her with such fury, only the sight of blood had stopped her from killing the woman.
Fiona sighed as she massaged her temples, trying to push away the images in her mind, praying for a few seconds of relief so she could recompose herself. She had been asked to leave the scene, clearly incapable of leading the rescue efforts, too overwhelmed by what she had done to be of any use.
The way they looked at her, all those people, and their eyes condemning her actions. She would never forget that.
Fiona buried her face in her hands and wept.
***
Alan had been here before.
Not recently, but once, a long time ago, when he had been younger and the world had made a lot more sense. He recognized his surroundings immediately, standing in the center of the sandbox where his sister had been taken, staring out into the darkness at the empty streets and the looming house he called home.
The house.
Alan felt it calling to him, the dark windows gazing out at him as if asking him what he was waiting for. He could feel its pull, and instantly knew that he would find what he was looking for inside.
Kathrine. His sister was inside the house. He was sure of it.
Alan did not hesitate, quickly making his way to the two-story house as his eyes scanned his surroundings. The woman in red’s warnings echoed in his head, and he was adamant not to let anything take him by surprise. He had a feeling this would be his one chance at freeing his sister, and he would not let his conviction blind him from whatever dangers that might arise.
There was a faint scent of rot in the air, a strong reminder of where he was, and Alan held onto that as he made his way forward. He knew how easy it was to lose himself here, to be overcome by the sense of familiarity that came with the backdrop surrounding him. Everything around him seemed real, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was all an illusion.
Alan stopped at the front door of his house, glancing through the living room window into the darkness within. He could barely make out anything inside; the faint silhouettes of forgotten furniture barely visible. A chill raced through him, and for a split second he forgot why he was here and what he was supposed to do. He couldn’t understand why, but his feet were planted firm in their place, his body refusing to respond as his mind screamed at him to turn back.
Illusions. Only illusions.
Alan opened the front door and stepped inside his childhood home. The darkness dispersed around him, and he sighed in relief as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The air was colder here, and the stench of rot stronger, but Alan knew he had come to the right place. Kathrine was definitely in here somewhere, and he would not turn back without her.
He closed the front door behind him, more on instinct rather than the fear of something following him inside. His feet made a hollow echo in the hallway as he moved forward, slowly, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to make sense of the shadows that welcomed him home.
Alan reached for a light switch and flicked it on, hoping there would be some saving grace in the nightmare he had walked into. The lights flickered on, a bright glow filling the rooms and washing around him, and Alan instantly wished he had kept them off.
Everything was wrong here. The walls were covered in mold, the wooden floors bent out of shape and places breaking with rot. The furniture had been eaten away, as if a horde of mice had ransacked the entire house and had fed on the upholstery. Picture frames hung on the walls, but the faces of his parents were bent out of proportion and looked more like screaming wraiths than anything else. The paint on the walls were cracked, and where there was wallpaper, flaps hung down in long arms to reveal the rotting wood behind them.
Alan felt his stomach turn, and he quickly looked away from the scene before him in an attempt to get a hold of himself. No wonder the lights were out. He could only imagine what his sister must have felt every time she saw this.
Kathrine.
Alan frowned in renowned conviction, motivated to move forward as he took in the rest of the horror that was once his home. He had to get Kathrine out of here, no matter what. He could not leave her here anymore.
Alan quickly made his way to the stairs, calling out to his sister as he took them by twos. He could hear movement above, and as he reached the second floor landing, a loud screeching sound came from behind a closed door at the end of the hall. Alan glanced at the other rooms, their doors wide open to reveal more of the same horrors within. The screeching came again.
The lights flickered above him and went out.
Alan froze as he heard the familiar sound of distant chuckling. The darkness around him seemed to grow thicker, and he could almost sense a heaviness about him that threatened to suffocate him under its weight. He raced forward, quickly making his way to the closed door, fumbling with the handle as he tried to push it open.
The door slammed agai
nst something heavy behind it, and Alan immediately realized what the screeching sound had been. Someone had tried to block the door.
“No!”
The scream pierced through the darkness.
“Kathrine!” Alan called out, desperately throwing his weight against the door, feeling the heaviness behind it give way. “Kathrine, it’s Alan!”
“Stay out! You can’t come in here!”
Something brushed past Alan in the dark, and he quickly felt his skin crawl. He turned around, trying to make out anything, but his eyes were failing him. The darkness was too thick.
“Kathrine, let me in!”
“Stop it! Stop doing this to me!”
Alan pushed harder against the door, and when he felt the brush of dead skin against his, he lashed out at the darkness. His arm swung through the air aimlessly, connecting with nothing, a raspy chuckle rewarding his failed attempts.
“Kathrine, dammit!”
“You won’t trick me again! I know who you are!”
Alan took a few steps back and threw his weight against the door, once, twice, each time feeling the door open a little bit more. The stench around him thickened and filled his nose with the rotten smell, and as he pushed against the door, a finger traced a line across the nape of his neck and forced goose bumps through his body.
Alan turned to the darkness, his back against the door, his breathing heavy and his heart threatening to burst from his chest. The chuckling came again, low and menacing, and Alan could hear the monster’s heavy breathing only a few feet away.
Alan stepped away from the door and quickly threw his weight against it again, opening it with enough room for him to slide through. He pushed his way into the narrow crack, forcing first his head through as he frantically reached for a hold to pull the rest of his body in. A hand latched onto his arm, grasping tight, and Alan kicked out in an attempt to break free, feeling his leg hit at something hard.
The chuckle broke out into a loud laugh, manic and crazed, as if Alan’s pitiful attempt amused the thing in the dark so much that it could not hold back its merriment. It let go of his arm, and with a final cry, Alan forced the rest of his body into the room and kicked the door closed.
Alan jumped to his feet and quickly pushed against the large dresser he had been battling with, forcing it tighter against the door. He staggered back, his eyes resting on the wooden barrier between him and whatever it was that was outside, fists clenched as he waited to see if it would break through.
The lights came back on, and the closed door had materialized into a wall before him.
“Alan?”
Alan turned around, and on a small bed to one side of the room, Kathrine Carter stared at him in shock.
Chapter 13
Michael Cole opened his eyes to a raging pain in his head. He reached over to where the throbbing was greatest and winced as he touched the caked blood on the side of his head.
Deborah. He was going to kill her.
Michael slowly pushed himself to his feet, glancing at the broken shards of the vase she had smashed against him. He felt the anger swell within him, and he immediately stumbled towards his father’s study. Staggering to the large oak desk, he opened the top drawer and pulled out the gun his father kept there.
He checked to make sure it was loaded and pushed it into his belt, already imagining the many ways he would make Deborah suffer for what she did. If there had been an ounce of admiration left inside him, it was all gone now, replaced by an even deeper hatred for her and Alan Carter. The two of them had ripped his world apart, and he was going to make damn sure he returned the favor.
Michael grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house, making his way towards the back and the woods beyond. He knew where she was going, and if luck were on his side, he would be able to reach her before she finished what she had come to do. There was no doubt in his mind that he would find her, and once he had his hands on her, he would make sure her screams reached far beyond Melington.
***
“Alan, is that really you?”
Alan fell to his knees, every muscle in his body suddenly giving out as he stared at his sister curled up in a corner of her bed. She hadn’t aged a day since he had last seen her, and Alan felt an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and cry.
He had found her. After twenty years of agony and emotional turmoil, of being analyzed by countless doctors and medicated into admitting that what he had seen had all been in his head; after countless nightmares of replay and her screams for help resonating in his head, Alan had finally found her.
Kathrine stared at him in shock, her eyes wide as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. She fought the fear that this could all be another illusion; that Alan really wasn’t actually on his knees in her room, gazing at her with tear drenched eyes. He was older, of course he was, and his hair was different, but there was no denying it. It was him; it was Alan.
Kathrine scurried off the bed and raced to him, throwing herself in her brother’s arms, wrapping her own around his neck as he held her tight, pressing her close. Her tears came at once, her sobs shaking her entire body as she finally found the courage to let go. For the first time since she had woken up in this dreadful place, she finally felt safe.
“I knew I’d find you,” Alan whispered in her ear. “I always knew I would.”
Kathrine tightened her grip around her brother’s neck, afraid to let it go lest he disappear forever.
“I called for you,” she whimpered. “I called for you every day.”
Alan nodded vigorously, holding her back so he could look at her, smiling through his tears as he gazed into his sister’s eyes. She looked so frail, as if this place were draining the very life out of her, feeding off of her. Still, he could not shake how beautiful she looked. He shuddered and hugged her again.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” he said.
Kathrine suddenly pulled away, shaking her head. “We can’t,” she said urgently. “I tried running away before, and he found me. He always finds me, and every time he does, this place gets worse.”
Alan tried to calm his sister down. “Not out into the corridor,” he said quickly. “Out completely. Out home.”
Kathrine frowned. “There is no way home,” she said.
“I’m here, right? How would I be here if I didn’t know how to get out?”
“He found you, didn’t he?” Kathrine frowned. “Like he did that other man, the one with the white hair, and that lady with the nose ring. He doesn’t take children only. He takes everybody.”
Alan nodded. “I know, but I escaped,” he said. “There’s always a back door.”
Kathrine cocked her head to a side. “You speak funny,” she said.
Alan laughed, looking around the room as he tried to figure a way out. “I grew up,” he said. “Things change when you grow up.”
Alan’s eyes fell on the bed, and he frowned at the empty space beneath it. The room was fully lit, and there was not an inch uncovered with the bright red glow of the Barbie lamp hanging from the ceiling. Except there, beneath the bed, where the darkness was so thick, Alan couldn’t see anything there.
He pointed at it, and Kathrine turned to look at where he was gesturing. She turned back to him with a frown.
“There’s always a back door,” Alan smiled.
“That’s not a door.”
Alan was about to reply when the light above their head went out and a loud crash echoed through the room. Alan heard the wall behind them give way, and before he knew what was happening, a thick stench filled the room, followed by a raspy chuckle.
“Carter.”
***
Deborah sat a safe distance away from the maple.
The air was colder out in the open where the wind hit her from all sides, brushing through her hair with invisible fingers as she kept her eyes fixed on the grotesque looking tree. She had no idea what she was expected to do, her only instructions being to wait, and she was s
tarting to get restless. The field was far too quiet for her liking.
Just then, her eyes caught movement in the darkness. She squinted, concentrating on the ground below the tree. The earth moved, a quick wave that could have easily been missed if she hadn’t known where to look. It was as if something were burrowing its way out of the ground, pushing the earth forward.
She pushed herself to her feet, slowly, her eyes fixated on the moving earth as it heaved and fell, as if breathing. She inched closer to the tree, unwilling to make any sudden movements, unsure as to what it was she was witnessing, but knowing that this was why she had been sent here.
Deborah cried out when a hand burst through the earth, reaching upwards and clasping at nothing but air. It was a small hand, slender like that of a child, and a sudden realization hit Deborah. She raced forward, falling to one knee, clasping onto the hand and heaving. Deborah pulled, feeling the earth beneath her break as the rest of the child’s arm began to appear.
A second hand burst out from beneath the surface and grabbed onto Deborah’s arm, clasping onto the woman for dear life as she continued to pull with all her strength, her eyes closed under the strain. The ground suddenly began to give way, and Deborah fell back. She looked up in shock at the little girl crawling the rest of the way out of the ground, her hair caked in mud and falling in heavy strands across her face.
Deborah suddenly felt fear race through her body, and she staggered away from the child.
If it looks at me, I’ll scream.
When the little girl did look up, Deborah didn’t scream, her jaw dropping as she realized who it was she had pulled out of the ground.
She was staring into the eyes of Kathrine Carter.
***
Michael Cole could not believe what he was seeing.
He had broken through the tree line and into the large field as Deborah pulled the little girl out of the ground. He recognized the child instantly, and in the few seconds it took to convince himself that what he was looking at was actually real, he felt his mind shatter into a million pieces.