Deranged Souls

by Ron Ripley

  Dennis shook his head. “Mostly, I like to think she didn’t know what was going on. That she blew apart whatever spark was in her, and she didn’t feel any pain. But there’s another part, and that one, it speaks up now and again, and it hopes she did feel the pain. It hopes she could hear Lauren wailing away after the baby woke up, and that my wife knew she hadn’t killed the girl.”

  “I’m sorry,” Marcus said softly.

  Dennis smiled at him. “Hell, don’t be. It’s done with. Has been for a long, long time. Besides, Lauren, she came out all right. I didn’t want you thinkin’ it was you, Marcus. My wife, she did kill part of Lauren that day. A part of her that thought she could trust anybody. She was a hard girl. A real hard girl.”

  Dennis shook his head. “I’m goin’ out for a bit. I suspect that when Timmy goes, it’ll be time for me to go, too. Kind of fond of this place now. I’d like to be looking at it when he dies. Last thing I want to see is my boy leave this world. Be good, Marcus Holt, it’s been a pleasure.”

  Marcus could only nod as the ghost turned and left the room.

  For several minutes, he sat across from Timmy. Then, the man’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled weakly.

  “You know,” Timmy croaked in a voice barely above a whisper, “my mom told me that damned story when I was nine and complaining about not getting a new baseball glove. Made me promise not to tell the old man that I knew of it.”

  Marcus shook his head in amazement.

  “Yup,” Timmy chuckled, closing his eyes again. “Dodged a bullet with us, Pop. Just think, you could have been trapped in crazy town for years.”

  Marcus merely smiled.

  I do think about it, Timmy, Marcus thought. I think about it every day.

  Chapter 36: A Walk

  “This is ridiculous!” Ellen threw her arms up in mock exasperation. “Can’t we just pretend we’re delivering pizza or something?”

  Joyce punched the woman playfully on the arm and Tom snickered. Only Victor seemed to take the statement seriously for a moment. Then he smiled shyly.

  “Victor’s a little slow on the uptake when it comes to jokes,” Tom confided in a stage whisper to Joyce and Ellen.

  “Tom is a little slow to remember who controls the wi-fi to all his devices,” Victor countered.

  “Ouch!” Tom laughed. “You cut me to the quick!”

  The four of them stood in a slight depression next to a matching number of new snowmobiles. Ellen had happily purchased the machines, as well as most of the supplies the four of them would need to get close enough to the compound before having to snowshoe in the rest of the way. They were all dressed appropriately, and their cover story, should they be stopped by anyone working for Worthe, was that they were vacationing, riding from New York toward Vermont.

  “Before we start,” Joyce said, holding her helmet in her hands, “I want to make sure we’re all okay with the ‘shoot first’ scenario if it looks like someone’s about to give us trouble.”

  “I’m not okay with it,” Victor admitted, “but I do understand why it’s important. Very much so.”

  “Fair enough.” Joyce glanced at Ellen and Tom, but the two of them merely grinned at her. “Okay,” she said, looking at Victor. “You feel comfortable enough to lead the way? You read all the maps.”

  “I do,” Victor answered. “We’ll have to check every hour or so, just to make sure I don’t get us completely and hopelessly lost.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Joyce shrugged. The others nodded their agreement, and a moment later, the roar of the snowmobiles’ engines rang out through the forest.

  ***

  “Do you want to walk with me?” Alex asked.

  Elaine’s single eye looked at him, focused, and then she nodded. Alex smiled at her, and together, they left the backyard. He walked slowly, unsure as to how quickly she could keep up with him.

  Tears stung his eyes when he glanced at her. Slivers of the dead woman vanished even as he watched, and he wondered how long she would last.

  I hope long enough, he thought. He glanced at the chapel and the gravestones. The warm air had caused a large amount of snow to melt, and in some places, the well-trod paths revealed the pale and yellowed grass underneath. Alex followed a narrow trail through the snow while Elaine drifted along beside him. Occasionally, she dropped back or swung out to the side, but for the most part, she was near him.

  When they reached the chapel, he stopped and faced her. She peered through him, the vaguest hint of a smile on the remnants of her visage.

  “Elaine,” he said gently. The dead woman didn’t react. Instead, she continued to stare at the chapel. “Elaine.”

  She blinked, looked at him, and her smile broadened.

  “Do you know where we are?” he asked her.

  Elaine glanced to either side and then shook her head.

  “We’re at the chapel,” Alex said. “I wanted you to be here. It’s nice here. I like it.”

  He sat down on the granite step, and she remained where she was, a disturbing remnant of the woman she had been. Her feet were missing, and her left leg was completely gone below the knee. Most of her right hip was gone, as was her side. Her face was a mutilated mess, and he struggled not to cry as he looked at her.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, his throat aching.

  She hesitated and then shook her head again.

  “I brought you here,” Alex explained, “because it’s where I first met Marcus. This is my favorite place in the whole Village. It didn’t use to be. And, well, I mean, I like 114 Broad, too, because it was your house, and then ours, but this place, it’s the best. Even with a bunch of mean ghosts inside it.”

  Her eye flicked toward the door, and Alex grinned.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They’re still in there. They don’t like me very much, but they have to do what I say.”

  Alex looked down at the ground, squeezed his hands together nervously, and then lifted his head. “Do you know what’s happening to you?”

  Elaine closed her eye and nodded.

  “I think,” Alex started, unable to stop the tears from spilling down his cheeks, “that you’re going to be gone soon. Like, really, really gone. You won’t come back. I don’t know where you’re going to be afterward, if you’re going to be anywhere. But I do know you won’t be here. Part of me is happy because you’ll be able to rest. A different part is really upset, though. I’m, I’m selfish. I want you to be here all the time, even though I know you can’t be. Elaine, I don’t want you to leave me.”

  Again, the dead woman nodded.

  “I know you have to go,” Alex continued. “Everybody does. Doesn’t matter if they’re living or dead. Nobody can be around forever. It makes me sad. You were always nice to me, Elaine. I know you care, and I care about you. So, um, I think I can do something, which will make this easier for you.”

  She didn’t react.

  “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth,” Alex said softly. “I think you hurt a lot. Whatever is happening to you, it's like acid eating away at your body, and I know that can’t feel good.”

  Elaine looked down but didn’t say anything.

  Alex swallowed nervously, his body shaking with anticipation. He struggled to speak, and when the words finally came, his voice was rough and broken. “Elaine, I think I can make it all stop. Right away. No more pain.”

  She stared at him, the question, How, evident in her eye.

  “I can break you up,” Alex said. “I mean, that’s how I see it. You’d be scattered. I don’t know if it would hurt, but I think, if it did, it would hurt less than what you’re feeling right now.”

  Elaine closed her eye and waited.

  “So, do you want me to do that? Do you want me to try and, um, end it?”

  She nodded once.

  “Okay.” He stood up, his entire body trembling, his mouth dry. Quietly, he took off his gloves and put them in his pockets. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a dark place within h
is heart. It was there, inside the anger and the hurt he kept locked away, that he found the power and the energy he needed. He shuddered as he mentally eased into that place, felt the strength surge through him. He struggled to maintain his grip on it, and when he opened his eyes, the world seemed clearer, every aspect of it in high definition.

  “Are you ready?” he asked. His voice was firm and strong. None of the uncertainty he had felt earlier remained.

  Elaine nodded.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Alex said. “I love you.”

  She opened her eye, a smile graced the remains of her face, and Alex screamed.

  Power exploded out of him. Snow was thrown aside, and several of the headstones cracked, the broken slate and granite falling loudly to the ground. The energy surged forward, enveloped Elaine and compressed her for a split second.

  Then the dead woman was gone.

  Nothing remained. Nothing at all.

  Behind him, Alex heard Kimberly laugh, and a black rage descended upon him. Furious, he turned around and threw open the chapel door. The imprisoned dead glared at him, taking up positions and waiting to see what he would do.

  Seething, Alex made his decision and stepped into the chapel.

  Chapter 37: Audio Discrepancy

  Marcus looked up from his book, frowning.

  “Yeah,” Timmy whispered. “I heard it, too. Sounded like someone throwing a fit.”

  The house shook, and Marcus felt nervous suddenly.

  “Alex is out there,” he said. Timmy looked at him, the dark circles under his eyes highlighting his frailty.

  “Damn,” Timmy whispered. “He is.”

  As the last word left his mouth, Timmy gasped and coughed violently. His eyes closed against the pain, and blood spurted from his mouth. Marcus got to his feet and brought a scrap of cloth to his son, hovering near him until Timmy ceased his coughing. With shaking hands, Timmy accepted the cloth, wiping the blood from his mouth without looking at it.

  “Get out of here,” Timmy hissed. “Make sure the kid’s okay.”

  “You can’t die yet,” Marcus said roughly as he grabbed the rifle, slamming a magazine into the weapon and chambering a round.

  “Sure I can.” Timmy smiled weakly. “But I’ll try not to, Pop.”

  “I’ll take it,” Marcus whispered and hurried out of the house.

  Timmy began to cough again, and the sound followed Marcus out into the street, quickening his steps.

  ***

  Of the three, only Kimberly looked worried.

  You shouldn’t have laughed, Alex thought. He felt energy and electricity rippling through him. Alex could hear everything. He could see everything. The world, all of it, was his.

  “Come on,” Alex snarled. “You wanted to try to hurt me. I know you did.”

  “We’re not fools, boy,” the teacher snapped. “You have bound us in some way, and we believe it. If one attacks, it is the death of all.”

  “Okay,” Alex whispered. “Then nothing’s going to happen if you attack.”

  Kimberly was the first to test the theory.

  She threw herself at him, and when the other two saw her action, they attacked as well.

  Alex punched her in the chest, sending her spiraling backward and through the teacher. Christopher snatched up his bayonet and lunged at Alex. Ducking beneath the blow, Alex punched the dead man as hard as he could. His fist struck Christopher’s knee, and the dead man screamed, dropping the bayonet as he fell.

  Before either of the other two ghosts could react, Alex remembered something Timmy had taught him and dug his thumbs into Christopher’s eyes. The dead man let out an agonized scream and Alex did the same as the effort to destroy Christopher sent bolts of pain up his arms. Gritting his teeth, Alex pushed his thumbs in deeper.

  Around Alex, the chapel shook, and the dead man vanished. The bayonet flashed a bright blue, and then was nothing more than a dull and meaningless instrument of war.

  Both the dead teacher and the dead teen stared at Alex.

  Silently, they walked apart, each picking a side of the room.

  They want to trap me, Alex thought grimly. They still think they’re stronger. There’s no chance, but they don’t believe that, no matter what they see.

  He smiled angrily and glanced at Kimberly. “You’re stupid.”

  She rolled her eyes and sneered, “Lame. Can’t you come up with something better?”

  “You hate it when people talk about you,” Alex said, keeping an eye on both of the ghosts. “I talk about you all the time. Every night. I tell Marcus how stupid you are, and I write letters about it, too. One day, I’ll mail them, and then everyone, absolutely everybody, will know how stupid you are.”

  “Foolish girl,” the teacher mocked. “You’re letting a child enrage you?”

  “Shut up,” she snarled at the dead man. Kimberley looked at Alex. “If you’re so smart, why did you set us free to hurt you?”

  “Because,” Alex whispered, “I want you to try and run. It’s more fun that way.”

  Her eyes widened, and Alex attacked the teacher. The assault took the dead man by surprise, and Alex drove him back. He remembered every punch and kick Timmy had shown him. His anger and his sorrow fed him, gave him strength he didn’t normally possess. Every punch he landed sent the dead man stumbling backward.

  “Help me!” the teacher screamed.

  From the corner of his eyes, Alex saw Kimberly lurch toward him, hatchet held high.

  “Stop,” Alex spat at her, and the dead teen stopped, the hatchet frozen in its arc.

  “Alex,” the dead man hissed.

  “Shut up,” Alex said. “Just shut up.”

  He slammed his hands on either side of the dead man’s chest, grabbed hold and squeezed. With a shout, Alex pushed as hard as he could and was thrown back several feet when the dead man exploded. Kimberly was hurled across the chapel. Cracks rippled through the walls and formed in the glass. Roofing crashed down, and Kimberly tried to escape.

  Alex caught her by the ankle as she raced past him for the door.

  “How?” she screamed. “How can you do this?”

  “Because I can,” Alex answered. “Throw it.”

  Kimberly howled with fury as she threw the hatchet out into the graveyard. She clawed at him, but her hands passed through him ineffectually.

  “No,” Kimberly whimpered, her shoulders sagging. “This isn’t right. You can’t have it both ways. It’s not fair!”

  Alex squeezed her ankle, and she shrieked. He watched, curious as it collapsed beneath his hand, her foot vanishing.

  “This is what you did to Elaine,” Alex whispered, grabbing a chunk of Kimberly’s hip and ripping it away. The dead teen screamed and tried to twist away. “This is what you did to my friend.”

  He took hold of her face, dug a thumb into her eye, and popped it out.

  “Stop it!” Kimberly howled. “I don’t want to hurt anymore!”

  “You hurt her so much,” Alex whispered. “You hurt Elaine. I loved her. She was my friend. Did you know that?”

  “Shut up!” Kimberly spat.

  Alex tore out her other eye.

  “I loved her,” Alex continued, “because she was nice. She knew, just like Marcus knows, what it's like to be hurt. And now you, Kimberly, you’re going to know what it’s like to be hurt, too.”

  Kimberly opened her mouth to yell at him again, but he grabbed her tongue and ripped it out by the root.

  Her mangled screams continued as Alex tore off more pieces, and the chapel slowly fell apart around them.

  Chapter 38: A Meeting

  Marcus’ eyes scanned the fence and the few towers which still stood. As far as he could see and hear, there weren’t any guards. The ground shook, and he looked around frantically. His eyes locked on the chapel.

  Some of the shingles were gone, and several of the windows shattered, the door destroyed. Even the stones appeared to have massive cracks in them. A wide swath of snow was push
ed aside, and the headstones in the barren path were broken.

  From the right, Marcus saw a shape moving.

  Gwen, he thought.

  The dead woman, making a beeline for the chapel, saw him and changed her course. She moved toward him. Marcus slipped the rifle off of his shoulder, realized it was loaded with standard ammunition, and dropped it to the snow.

  The weapon was nothing more than a useless crutch. Relying upon it would be a death sentence.

  Marcus winced as he made fists. His entire body ached. He was old and wounded, a man watching his son die and understanding a boy was going to be trapped with the dead with a madman as the warden.

  “You don’t wear a helmet,” Gwen said, stopping less than ten feet from him.

  “I don’t have a helmet to wear,” he answered. His heart sank when he realized there was no sign of recognition in her eyes. I am a stranger to her.

  “Why?” she asked with a smirk. “Is your head protected in some way I can’t see?”

  “No,” Marcus replied.

  “Then, you don’t need one?” Gwen asked, taking a step forward. There was a strange, hungry look in her eyes. It sent a shiver of fear through him, and Marcus straightened his back to keep from moving away from her. He wanted to call out to Alex to be certain the boy was well and to gain assistance from him.

  “I’m not riding a motorcycle,” Marcus said, trying to keep his voice light. “Nor do I believe I’m entering into combat. So, no, I don’t think I need one.”

  “I think you do,” Gwen said, her voice suddenly low and angry. “I know it. Because I’m going to put my hands right through your brains. I can feel them freeze, you know. When I kill someone that way. It’s good. It feels nice.”

  She shivered and smiled, half-closing her eyes as she did so. “Yes, it feels so good.”

  “Gwen,” Marcus said, keeping his voice firm. “I’m going home now. I suggest you do the same.”