Latham's Landing

by Tara Fox Hall

  “I’m sorry,” Mac said, contrite.

  “No matter,” the figure said in rumbling tones with a wave of its clawed hand.

  “I’ll get the women,” Mac assured him. “They won’t leave—”

  “Go now,” the figure intoned sharply.

  Mac scrabbled to his feet. Grasping his rifle, he charged out of the house.

  Helter was dreaming.

  He was in a forest, hunting with his father, a large deer in his sights. But when he fired, the deer ran without faltering, its coat unbloodied.

  “There is much game here to hunt,” a feminine voice intoned.

  Helter shifted, the dream changing. He was in a new house with his mother, his aunt’s house. They were hiding from his father.

  “He won’t let me go,” his mother sobbed, as his aunt comforted her. “Everyone thinks he’s wonderful, but he’s a monster. Everyone respects him but they don’t know what he is—”

  “Shh…you’ll wake Harold Jr.—”

  “He treats me like a slave—”

  There was a roar as the front door was hit with a sledgehammer, the wood buckling in. His mother screamed, and his aunt ran for the phone. Then his father was there, dragging his mother out by the hair, yelling for Harold to follow.

  At home, his mother fixed dinner, her eye blackened, her lip still swelled and bloody. Harold finished as fast as possible, walking on eggshells as he tiptoed up to his room. His father was drunk when he was happy, and deadly when he was hungover.

  The police arriving, asking to search the house, his father belting one, and then going for his gun…

  Harold bit his finger in the dream, the nightmare of his youth dissolving to the walls of a library, books stretching up to the ceiling.

  “You’re intelligent,” a voice rumbled. “There are not many who can break our visions with will alone.”

  “The house was too big,” Helter said slowly, blinking in pain as he sat up. “That’s how I knew it was a dream. There is always something off a little bit in my nightmares.” He stared at the cloaked figure across from him, its red eyes watching him. “What are you?”

  “We are all that remains,” the demon said, with a ghastly smile. “We are eternal.” The tone turned mocking. “Burn us and we will rebuild. You cannot harm us in any meaningful way.”

  Helter narrowed his eyes. “But you can’t kill me, or I’d never have woken up.”

  The demon shook its head. “We see possibilities with you, Helter.” The thing spread its hands. “Our current provider is becoming unsatisfactory—”

  “The man in the helicopter,” Helter supplied.

  “Yes,” the thing rumbled, its tone annoyed. “You’re better.”

  “Better how?”

  The cloaked demon paused, its words coming with effort. “More intelligent. More cautious. So we offer you this deal. Go now, and return with others.”

  “You want people to come here and die,” Helter stated.

  “More must come,” the demon said, its need palpable. “We must finish the building.”

  Why was that so important, Helter thought, if they could always rebuild Latham’s Landing? “Say I left,” Helter ventured. “What if I never came back?”

  The demon laughed, its rasping cough of a chuckle ghastly. It pointed its finger toward him. “You could not stay away. No one is that strong.” Its smile was ghastly.

  “And the women?” Helter asked.

  “They must stay,” the thing said. “That is the deal.”

  There was no choice. Caroline’s God, please bless me. Helter fired at the creature. The bullet tore into the demon. With a shriek, it ruptured, becoming wisps and whirls of shadows. The impact blasted Helter back to the floor.

  He struggled to get up, shaking his head. He was back in the basement, sitting in brackish water. The far wall was gone, in its place darkness and a corridor of shadows and algae. The bag of weapons was also missing.

  Helter looked up frantically, eyes searching for his explosives.

  The timer and charges were there on the far wall hooked to a wooden beam where he’d placed them, the water slowly seeping toward them as it rose. An hour and a half had passed, the time to detonation now thirty-five minutes. The small gold cross was gone, a gleaming pile of melted gold shining in the dirt below the timer.

  There was a splash from the corridor, as something pale gleamed briefly in the darkness before submerging again.

  The timer was waterproof. But whatever was in the water would reach the timer before it went off.

  Biting his lip, Helter reluctantly removed the rosary from around his neck. “Thank God for plastic.” Placing it around the device, he climbed the stairs as fast as he could.

  “Come on,” Barb said. “It’s not that much farther, and it’s all downhill from here.”

  “If it’s the same as this morning,” Caroline said darkly.

  They both crouched as a man burst out of the darkness, running for the shore.

  “He’s going for the boat!” Barb cried. “He’ll take it first!”

  “No, he won’t,” Caroline said murderously. “Stay here.” She took off running after the man.

  Barb sank down to the ground, her legs weak. Who knew gunshots could hurt this much?

  There was a noise, then a chuckle.

  Barb looked up with horror to see a stranger dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt looking down at her. His dark eyes were maniacal, his days growth of beard scruffy.

  Mac drew his knife, then threw it up in the air and caught it. A pulsating rock beat began from somewhere in the depths of the house, reverberating with hidden horrible meaning.

  “Now the music’s on,” Mac said, his knife gleaming as he approached Barb. “Dance with me, pretty lady.”

  Barb whimpered, then retreated into the recesses of the house as fast as she could, Helter’s gun forgotten in her pocket. Whistling his favorite tune, Mac sauntered after her.

  Lease slipped and slid down the incline, hurrying as fast as he dared. Screw Mac and everything else, he was leaving now!

  Lease looked behind him and then slammed into a man standing there. He scrambled up, staring at him.

  “Pardon,” the man said politely, his eye sockets both empty, bloody holes where maggots played. “But I need some assistance.”

  Lease’s eyes bugged out. He scrambled back.

  “I need your eyes,” the ghoul said pleasantly, extending a bony hand. “Be a good soul and give them to me—”

  It bared needle teeth at him.

  “—or I’ll have to take them—”

  A gunshot rang out, striking the ghoul in its head. It reeled back, falling to the ground.

  Lease brought his gun up to see a woman approaching him. He quickly dropped it, when he saw her point her gun at him.

  “Police officer!” he shouted. “Please, I’m on your side.”

  She ran up to him. “I’m Caroline. Did you get Barb’s message?”

  Lease cast his mind back. “A woman called in two snowmobilers who fell through the ice.”

  Caroline looked him up and down. This was one of the cops that had come with Bowman, the night her stepmother had been murdered. She couldn’t remember his name. Why would a homicide cop go on a rescue mission in the middle of the night? “And they sent you?”

  Lease nodded. “Me and two others. They’re dead. That man who came in the copter shot them.”

  “What’s your name?” Caroline asked.

  What had Chung Lai told them? “Detective Bowman,” Lease lied.

  Caroline’s memory unfurled with his pronunciation of Bowman’s name. Lease.

  “Come with me,” Lease said, offering his hand. “We’ve got to go—”

  Caroline raised her gun and shot him in the chest, knocking him sprawling onto the ghoul’s corpse. “No, you’re not Bowman,” she said. “You’re Lease.”

  Lease clutched his stomach, blood spilling through his fingers. “Please—”

  “You ca
me to my house that night, with Bowman and that other one,” Caroline said coldly. “You don’t remember, of course. I was nothing to you, the way most women are. The way Chung Lai probably was.” She moved past him. “You’re not worth a bullet.” She smiled bitterly. “Especially here.”

  A white hand reached around, grasping Lease’s shoulder. He looked back in terror into the gaping eye sockets of the smiling ghoul.

  Caroline ran down to the boat, Lease’s screams, and wet crunching echoing behind her.

  Helter stopped, unsure. He’d come in the house easily, taking two minutes tops to get to the basement. Why was it so hard to find a way out? Ten minutes had already passed, ten minutes he didn’t have. God, please, please send me help. I’ve got to get Caroline, Cooper, and Barb and get out of here.

  “You asked for help?” a sepulcher tone uttered.

  Helter raised his gun, confronting the dark skinned man in front of him. “Who are you?”

  “She called me here to end the curse,” the man said sadly. “To combat the evil here with my magical help. I was of the blood, and thought I could handle anything.” He raised his bony hand, several fingers ragged stumps. “Instead we both were drawn in to become ghosts to haunt this isle.”

  “Help me, please,” Helter said.

  The man pointed up. “Through that trapdoor. Hurry, before it changes again.”

  Helter hurried to the ladder, moving quickly up it. He burst through into the main floor of the house, bolting past the roaring fire towards the already shimmering door. The man below smiled sadly, then faded away.

  Barb pushed through the door, out onto a veranda at the back of the unfinished house. She moved to the ornate granite wall, looking out over a drop fifty feet into the churning waters of the lake, where large waves hit onto sharp rocks.

  She was trapped.

  “I thought that the dock was gone,” a voice said from behind her, impressed. “I had no idea this was here now.”

  Barb turned to face the man with the knife. He moved toward her. Wait until he gets close. “Why are you doing this?” she pleaded, her hand on the gun. “I never did anything to you.”

  “You came here,” he said simply. “That means you’re mine.”

  “Please, don’t,” she whispered, backing up to the granite wall. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Mac lunged with the knife, slicing into her. Barb cried out, feeling the blade slide deep into her side. She twisted, pulling the weapon from his grasp as she fell, her shot missing him and taking a stone chunk out of the side of the house.

  “Bitch,” Mac said with a frown. He pulled his gun from his belt, pointing it at her head.

  A gunshot split the night, knocking the gun from Mac’s hand. He turned, just in time to get another to the chest. He fell back against the wall with a surprised expression, sliding down to sit with legs askew.

  Barb looked up to see Helter, a hand extended. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We’ve got twenty minutes to get to the shore.”

  Gratefully, she took his hand, then tried to stand. With a cry, she crumpled. “Leave me,” she panted, looking down at the spreading bloodstain at her side, and the protruding knife handle. “Take your gun…in my pocket…”

  Helter picked her up in his arms, hurrying fast back the way he’d come, as thunder suddenly rumbled in the distance. At the doorway he stopped, overcome, instead of open space, there was now a long hall, and many doors.

  Helter looked back at the veranda. The dark-skinned man who had helped him before was there, looking out at the rising storm. “Help me, please,” Helter begged.

  A hiss sounded at his feet. A huge white fluffy cat stalked there, hissing and growling at him. An old woman stood there behind it, between the man and Helter, her eyes angry.

  “Help us,” Helter pleaded again.

  Her black eyes were solid as onyx. “Mind your business,” she said sharply over her shoulder to the dark-skinned man. “Say nothing. Or you know what will happen.”

  There was a clicking noise. Helter turned, in time to kick at a human head with spider’s body cavorting over the floor. It lunged at him then retreated, furry legs quivering, human teeth bared in a rictus grin.

  “Third door on the right,” Barb whispered weakly in Helter’s ear.

  Helter ran toward that door, outdistancing the spider thing scuttling after him. He burst through into the night, running down into the grass. Emerging, he slid to a stop.

  “Cooper?” he said.

  Barb’s dog stood before him. But its expression was menacing, its hackles raised.

  “No,” Barb breathed. “Not Cooper…”

  The dog withered before Helter’s eyes, becoming a skeleton dog with skin. It snapped its large teeth, its fur glowing white as its eyes morphed into lined black holes. “Ours,” it said in a wavering moan, its tongue slavering. “Give her to us.”

  Helter raised his gun and shot it with his last bullet. This time the dog wavered as the bullet passed through, then reformed, grinning, its tongue lolling. “I learn,” it chuckled, taking a step to spring. “Now I’m coming for you—”

  Helter turned and ran down the slope, the dog snapping at his heels, cavorting in glee.

  “I’m coming for you!” it bellowed.

  “Helter!” Caroline cried from the dock.

  “Shoot it!” Helter yelled.

  Caroline took aim and shot at the dog as it launched itself at Helter and Barb. The monster let out a human shriek of pain as it ploughed into Helter, knocking him sprawling.

  Caroline hurried to Helter’s fallen form, turning him over. A sudden growl sounded from behind her.

  Caroline turned as the dog launched itself at her, firing directly into its wide-open jaws. It screeched and vanished, a sulphur scent pungent in the air.

  “Come on,” she said to Helter. “We’ve got to get in the boat,”

  “Not all of us,” Helter said sadly, taking his hand away from Barb’s neck. “She’s gone.”

  “Lift her in the boat,” Caroline said roughly, blinking. “She’s not staying here.”

  Helter lifted Barb’s body into the boat, setting her down gently in the bottom. As he straightened, a razor tip arrow punched through his chest.

  “Helter!” Caroline screamed. She raised her gun to the rise as a low appreciative whistle sounded.

  A scruffy man in a plaid shirt and jeans stood there, staring down at them triumphantly with glowing red eyes, a compound bow in his hand. He whistled once more, in appreciation. A yellow-eyed creature hopped at his feet, leering at Caroline, and stroking a dagger.

  “Mac,” Helter gasped out, his lips bloody. “He’s one of them now.”

  Others joined the man on the ridge with vacant stares, all of them looking down at Caroline. Lease was among them. Then slowly, they all began to walk down the incline, as Mac fitted another arrow to his bow.

  “Get out of here,” Helter said, pushing Caroline toward the boat. “Get out of here.” Another arrow hit him in the back, and he went to his knees, swaying.

  “Not without you,” Caroline cried, pushing him into the boat. Helter fell into the bottom onto Barb with a groan as another arrow thudded into the boat’s side. Caroline turned and fired until her gun clicked empty, her shots scattering Mac and the others on the ridge. Turning back, she discovered a stone snake, coiled on the dock near the knotted rope. It reared up, ready to strike, water dripping from its algae covered scales.

  As it tried to bite her, Carolyn grabbed hold of the slippery writhing form, then threw it up on land.

  A beeping sound emitted in strident tones from the boat.

  A huge explosion rocked the main house of Latham’s Landing, engulfing the dry wood in flames. Several additional smaller explosions dissolved the smaller surrounding buildings, their fires adding to the conflagration. Crackling, the flames rose higher, spreading to the other buildings and trees quickly. With a satisfying boom, the bell tower fell, as Mac’s helicopter exploded from inside.
r />   There was an inhuman shriek of pain and suffering. The wind rose, dark clouds beginning to form. A fog rose from the lake, reaching up like a wall, obscuring the burning house.

  Caroline untied the boat, then went to push off.

  A loud appreciative whistle sounded from behind her.

  Caroline turned slowly, willing herself to see rubble. Instead, Latham’s Landing still stood, the fog parting to reveal the main house glowing white as bone in the darkness, the flames that had engulfed it slowly ebbing into smoke. The new house, the many verandas, and the belltower were gone, as if they had never been. From behind the house came light bright as daylight, the far off Sea Room a pulsating globe of light far away on the water.

  “No!” Caro screamed, falling to her knees beside the boat. “No!”

  Figures materialized out of the fog near the house, watching.

  Caro remained huddled, weeping.

  A lone figure approached her, its form becoming more and more like a man dressed in a smoking jacket and trousers. As it reached down for Caroline, she erupted suddenly, her wrist flicking the vials of holy water at the figure.

  It rippled, disappearing instantly, the holy water scattering on the earth and rocks, where it began to smoke and steam.

  “Damn you!” Caro screamed viciously. “Damn you to Hell!”

  “Not Hell,” a low voice chuckled. “Though you are damned.”

  Caro spun to face the man, her face sneering. “I’m not afraid of you, ghost. I’m here to end you, Latham!”

  “There is no ending,” the figure replied, his tone both tired and old with the weight of years. “And the fire within you, Caro, will fan our flames.”

  Caro went still. It knew her name.

  “He waits for you,” the figure said temptingly. “Come and be with him.”

  “No,” Caro said, shrinking back. “This is a trick—”

  “No trick,” the figure said chidingly. “His soul is captive here forever, as is yours. Make the most of that, Caro—”

  The figure’s hand clamped onto hers, the shock of the cold and damp making her gasp.