by Ron Ripley
Slowly, the man withdrew the needle and held it in front of Lou’s undamaged eye.
Lou watched in horror as the man whistled cheerfully and brought the tip of the syringe ever closer.
And as the metal slowly punctured his eye, Lou found he was able to scream.
Chapter 43: Dan Goes to City Hall
Rye, New Hampshire was several decades behind the curve when it came to technology and local government. While the taxes and other applicable bills were logged into a central system, there was no easy or digitized way to examine property sales and ownership in the town.
Dan was on his second cup of coffee, and the month of July for the year two thousand fifteen.
All of the previous months listed the house at Ten Indian Rock Road as still being in trust to the Montgomery family, although there were no more Montgomerys to own the land or the property.
Dan finished his drink.
July was a bust.
With a sigh, Dan pushed his empty cup away from him, stacked the useless file on top of a pile of the same, and pulled a manila folder labeled, August 2015, in front of him. He made his way carefully through each document. He read the pages and then he stopped on August seventh.
“Ten Indian Rock Road, care, and uptake of property taken over by Miles Cunningham, Montgomery cousin.”
Dan sat back and looked at the entry, and he read it again.
Someone is living there, he thought, tapping on the page. Someone found out what was there.
And he’s dumping it on the rest of us.
Dan took his notebook out and wrote down Miles Cunningham, 10 Indian Rock Road, Rye, NH, into it. He put the papers back in order, and then the files as well. Once he was finished, he put his notebook away, brought the paperwork back to the desk and signed out.
Dan walked out to his car, climbed in and drove over to the First Church. The place was sealed off, locked down.
He pulled into the parking lot and put the car in ‘park.’ Dan picked up the folder with Miles’ name on it and wondered how the man was connected to the Church. What had brought him there in the first place?
Dan grimaced as a headache started at the base of his skull. With a frown, he checked the glove box for aspirin, didn’t find any, and decided it was time to go to the Rye Police Station.
He needed to use the computer to see if Mr. Miles Cunningham, recently of Ten Indian Rock Road, had any sort of priors in the system. And they’d certainly have aspirin there. Dan needed to call Luke, so the blind man could get in touch with Brian.
Should have gotten his number, Dan realized. Oh well, maybe Luke will give it to me. Or his grandson.
With those thoughts in mind, Dan pulled into the Rye Police Station and got ready to go to work.
Chapter 44: Sato Sees and Knows
Sato stood in the sun, imaging he could feel it. Wishing he was home, standing outside of the shrine instead of this foul church.
He watched as the strange automobile pulled in.
Curious, Sato walked up to it and looked in. There was a large man holding a folder, there was English written upon it. Sato squinted, then his eyes widened.
Miles Cunningham.
Sato tried to push himself into the man in the car, yet found resistance. The man was sober, unable to be possessed.
But for a moment, he was able to see where the man was headed.
The police station.
Sato backed out of the man, looked at the house which so recently became part of his domain, and smiled. With his own skull placed in the basement of the church, he could project himself out. How far out, he was unsure, but perhaps he could find out.
Sato went to the new house, looking for a drink.
Chapter 45: Going for a Walk
Jim stood on his porch and listened to the robins as they sang in the yard. Lisa came out of her house, sat down on her front steps and put her face in her hands.
For a moment, Jim watched, and then he walked down his front steps and crossed the narrow strip of grass which separated the two properties.
“Lisa,” he said cautiously.
She looked up. Eyeliner and mascara had run down from the corner of her eyes. Mixed with fresh tears, the black makeup made a mad pattern of twisted roots across her fine cheeks.
“Hey,” Jim said, swallowing nervously, “I’m sorry, but, can I help you with anything?”
She looked at him for a moment and Jim almost took a step back, afraid she might yell at him.
Finally, she shook her head.
“No,” she said, sniffing, letting out a small smile. “No. Timmy White just broke up with me.”
“What?” Jim asked, surprised. “Seriously?”
She nodded.
“Why would he do something stupid like that?” Jim asked.
Lisa smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I guess he doesn’t like me anymore.”
“How can anyone not like you anymore?” Jim asked. “I think you’re great.”
“Thanks,” she said, wiping away the makeup with the palm of her hands. She looked at them, shook her head and then wiped them clean on the grass. “You’re sweet.”
“No,” Jim said. “Not really. I just think anyone who would break up with you is an idiot.”
Her smiled broadened, and she laughed a little. “Thank you, Jim. So, what are you up to?”
“Just waiting,” Jim said. “I might have to go out with my grandfather soon.”
“Where?” she asked.
Jim shrugged. “We won’t know until we get the call.”
“Sounds exciting,” she grinned, and then she sniffled a little.
“It might be,” Jim said. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“To where?” she asked.
“Just up and around the burial ground,” Jim said. “Can’t get too close to the Church.”
“I heard,” Lisa said. “Terrible about the Rev and Mrs. Staples.”
Jim nodded.
Lisa stood up. “I’d like to go for a walk, Jim.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, really,” she said. “I’ve had a tough day, and you always make me smile. And plus it’s really sweet of you to want to take a walk. Even if you don’t think you’re sweet.”
Jim smiled. “Okay. Cool. Want to loop around, so we don’t have to get too close to anyone’s house, or possibly upset the police?”
“Sounds good to me,” she said. “Do you need to tell your grandfather?”
“No,” Jim said. “I told him earlier I might take a walk. Plus, I have my cellphone. If there’s an emergency, he’ll get in touch with me.”
“I’m amazed your grandfather can do as much as he does,” Lisa said. “I know he’s been blind for a while, but still. It’s crazy he can do all those different things.”
“Yeah,” Jim said proudly, “my grandfather’s pretty awesome.”
“Lead the way, Jim,” Lisa said, smiling.
He did so. They walked quietly for a while. Together, they enjoyed the afternoon sun. Birds sang and occasional cars passed by. Neither of them spoke, and Jim waited patiently for Lisa to break the silence.
The walk really was for her. He knew it helped him leave the house and wander, so he figured it might do the same for Lisa.
Eventually, they came to “Mirkwood,” the path named for Tolkien’s Middle Earth. It cut through a few acres of woods, which ran up to the back of the burial ground. They turned off the sidewalk and onto the worn dirt trail. Trash littered the ground every few feet, each item a reminder of how the path was about as far from “Mirkwood” as one could get.
“So,” Lisa said, “who was the man you and everyone met with the other night?”
Jim paused before he answered. “Do you promise not to laugh?”
“I promise,” she said.
“He’s a ghost hunter,” Jim said. “Did you hear about the ghosts in the First Church?”
Lisa looked over at him, as though to make sure he wasn’t being si
lly. When she saw, he was serious, she said, “I had heard a rumor about a ghost being seen. Then Matt and Carlton got hurt, and the police officer died in there. Plus, the … the bad stuff with Mrs. Staples and the Rev.”
Jim hesitated for a moment, and then he said, “It’s the ghosts doing it all.”
Lisa stopped and turned to face him.
“Are you serious?” she asked.
Jim nodded. “There are three ghosts in the Church now. Dead Japanese soldiers. They like to hurt people.”
“Ghosts can’t hurt people,” Lisa said, shaking her head. But when Jim remained silent she asked in a low voice, “can they?”
“Yes,” Jim answered. “They hurt me.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “How?”
“They shot me,” Jim said.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jim said, blushing slightly. “Um, do you want to see it?
“Is it … is it gross?” Lisa asked hesitantly.
“No,” Jim said. “A little scar showed up hours after it happened.”
“Okay,” Lisa said. “As long as it isn’t nasty looking.”
Jim pulled his arm back into his sweatshirt and then freed his shoulder. Where the ghostly bullet had penetrated was a small, dime shaped scar. It was bluish in color and cold to the touch. His arm ached occasionally as he moved it. A reminder of what the dead could do.
“Oh my God,” Lisa said, leaning closer.
Jim’s heart skipped a beat as a sweet, delicate smell slipped over him. Lisa wore some type of perfume, the scent rich and enticing.
“Did it hurt?” she asked, looking up at him.
Jim nodded, swallowed drily and added, “It still hurts. What’s really strange is how cold it is.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, straightening up.
“The scar, it’s cold when I touch it,” he said.
“Oh wow,” she whispered. Then Lisa looked at him and asked, “Would it be okay if I touched it?”
“Yeah,” Jim said.
Cautiously she reached out and touched the scar.
The feeling was electric. There was pain at the slight pressure, but chills raced along his spine and goose bumps rose up on his arms. His heart skipped a beat.
“It is cold,” she whispered. Her fingers lingered for a moment and then she drew her hand back.
She smiled shyly at him. “You said they shot you?”
“One of them did,” Jim said, trying not to sound as excited as he felt. He put his arm back in his sleeve and tucked his undershirt in. “He pointed a gun at me and fired. Whatever it was, it hit me. When he went to shoot again, the second ghost stopped him.”
Lisa reached out and took his hand.
They started to walk along the trail again.
After several moments of silence, she asked, “Is it safe to be on the other side of the burial ground?”
“I think so,” Jim said, but doubt suddenly flooded him. “I mean, they didn’t come out of the Church to chase me or anything. They stayed in the doorway. Why?”
“I just remember reading, somewhere, how ghosts can haunt more than a building,” Lisa said. “I mean, they can haunt places and stuff. And I was thinking how the Church owns the burial ground.”
“And it owns the woods here, and Mirkwood, too,” Jim said softly.
“Oh wow, yeah, it does,” Lisa whispered. “Do you think we should go back?”
“I think,” Jim said, “since we’re almost at the burial ground, it’ll be better to get back home by going around the Church. I don’t want to have to run from anything in the woods.”
Lisa nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t want to be running from something through the woods either.”
The trees thinned out, and the stones of the small graveyard behind the First Church came into view, as did the back of the building.
“Oh my God, Jim,” Lisa said. She pointed with her free hand and said, “Look!”
Jim followed the line of her finger and saw a body.
An older man stripped naked.
Someone had cut out his eyes and crucified him on a stone cross. The man had been flayed as well. Strips of his skin were hung over stones, and dried blood was splattered across the same.
“We need to leave, Lisa,” Jim said, squeezing her hand. “We need to get home, now! I have to tell my grandfather!”
Lisa nodded, and then she gasped.
A trio of men appeared in the open doorway of the Church.
Each of them carried a long knife and the one in the center pointed his at Jim and Lisa. The man spoke, and his comrades laughed.
The one on the right started down the stairs.
“Run!” Jim yelled.
He kept his grip firm on Lisa’s hand and ran with her.
The men yelled as Jim and Lisa sprinted towards the Hurlington House.
Several shots rang out, and trees just beyond them exploded. Wood shards ripped through the air. Jim hissed as one tore into his cheek and slammed into his teeth.
And then they were behind the Hurlington House.
Screams of rage and fury chased after them.
Jim didn’t look back, he and Lisa continued to run, straight for his porch and the safety of his grandfather’s apartment.
Chapter 46: Luke Drinks Tea
Luke sat in the perpetual darkness which was his life.
He had a cup of tea in his hands, and he chased away thoughts of his ex-wife. Occasionally, it bothered him, the fact she had abandoned him and their daughter. How she had never known James and how wonderful he was. He couldn’t understand how she had thrown all that away.
Luke sighed, brought the cup of tea to his mouth and blew upon the hot drink before he took a cautious sip.
I’m nearing my end, he thought.
The realization was sharp and sudden, but it was not painful.
Death was part of life. A new beginning, if the teachings of the Church were true.
He hoped they were, but he didn’t worry too much about it. Either Luke would go to Heaven, if there was such a place, or he would not. If he dwelled on it, he would go mad.
So like the thoughts of his ex-wife, he pushed those of the afterlife away.
He relaxed and listened to the sounds of his house. Each noise comforted him, soothed him with its familiarity. Some nights he dreamed he could still see. But he was always back in Vietnam. Always on the morning when the sniper would rob him of his sight.
The door to the hallway on the first floor slammed and interrupted Luke’s thoughts.
Two pairs of feet thundered up the stairs, and he recognized one of them as his grandson’s. The other person was lighter.
A moment later, James knocked loudly.
“Come in, James,” Luke said. He put his tea cup down as the young teen hurried in, his companion close behind him.
“Are you two alright?” Luke asked.
“Yes,” James said, panting. “We’re okay.”
“Please, sit down,” Luke said. He inhaled through his nose and caught the distinct scent of perfume. “And you as well, young lady.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
Luke recognized her voice.
He smiled. “It is not a magic trick, Lisa. I’ve simply had a long time to learn how to use my other senses.”
He heard the two of them sit on the couch.
And close together, he imagined.
“Now,” Luke said, “what has brought the two of you thundering up into my room?”
“The ghosts,” James said quickly.
“James,” Luke said sharply. “Did you go into the Church?”
“No, sir,” James answered. “We took a walk through the woods behind the Church and came in behind the Old Burial Ground. We found a body. I think the ghosts tortured him to death. And then they came out of the Church, and they chased us to the edge of the property.”
“To the edge of the property?” Luke asked, shaking his head. “They left the Church?�
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“Yes, sir,” James said, and Luke could hear the fear and exhaustion in his grandson’s voice.
“Well,” Luke said, forcing himself to smile. “You’re safe now, James. You’re here with me, and nothing is going to happen to either one of you, alright?”
The two teenagers answered ‘yes’ in unison.
“Good, good.” Luke folded his arms across his chest and said, “Now, there’s a fresh body, someone the ghosts killed?”
“Yes, sir,” James said miserably. “It was terrible.”
“Yes,” Luke said softly, “I imagine it was, James.”
Luke reached down to his left, found his cellphone and pressed redial. A moment later, Detective Dan Brown answered.
“Mr. Allen,” Dan said cheerfully. “A pleasure. Everything alright?”
“I’m afraid not, Detective,” Luke said. “My grandson just came in, and he has informed me that there is a mutilated body in the burial ground behind the First Church.”
“Jesus Christ!” Dan snapped. He closed his eyes for a moment, then he opened them and said, “Okay. Alright, I’m in the Rye Police Station right now. I’ll pass the word along. Is he alright?”
“Yes, thank you,” Luke said. “Have you had any luck in regards to George Montgomery’s house?”
“I have,” Dan answered. “Turns out a cousin of his by the name of Miles Cunningham moved in recently. I’m going to do a little bit of digging to see if the man has any sort of record. Should only take about an hour or so. How about I meet you at your place at four o’clock?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” Luke said.
“Will you do me a couple of favors?” Dan asked.
“Certainly,” Luke replied.
“Could you make sure your grandson stays with you? More than likely, there should be a police officer at your house long before I get there to take your grandson’s statement.”
“I will. And the second request?” Luke asked.
“Contact Brian Roy, see if he can meet us at your house as well,” Dan said. “I’d rather not meet in the Riverwalk and have anyone overhear our conversation.”
“I agree,” Luke said. “I’ll have my grandson find Brian’s number after this and give him a call.”