The new and not necessarily improved Cayle family.
Christine crawled forward on the bed like a serpent. She was doused in blood, her face twisting and writhing, mouth panting and full of foam. Jessica staggered up, adjusted her cotton nightie which had bunched up around her chest, then leaped up on the bed, joining her mother. She giggled in her little girl voice and licked the blood from her fingers, as did the baby beast, which also climbed the bed to be with its family.
"Jessica..." I managed. "No, honey..."
She giggled and playfully tossed herself down on the blood-soaked bed.
Christine looked back at Jessica and ran a gentle hand through her blond locks. When she pulled away, a stark bloody streak marred the previously untainted curls.
"Christine...what in God's name are you doing? You're hypnotized! Shake it off!
Shake it off!
" I sat there, stupefied, surveying the evil scene before me, convinced for these futile moments that all I had to do was convince them that it was all some form of mind control at play here, and that once they realized this—as they did in Old Lady Zellis's basement—we could get the fuck out of here while the Isolates were still out of commission.
But there would be no Cayle family exodus—that much made itself very clear in the following seconds; in my mind heinous images played out, Lauren Hunter's forewarning in the moments of her death, Phillip Deighton's head exploding beneath the swinging arch of the baseball bat, and then the great horned beast in the woods who'd sent me a message in my swoon, telling me that the fight was unwinnable, and that no matter what I did to knock his children down, he'd be there stronger than ever to pick them up again.
I pictured the thing with its spectacular erection, mounting my wife.
And then, I thought back to a brief moment in time five months ago when Christine and I were talking in the kitchen, she revelating about the pregnancy, me saying,
Damn it, Christine, I wore a condom,
and I realized now that the great beast had already been upon her at that time, and that the grinning, walking, scowling Isolate baby on the bed with my family had no genes of mine in it, but those of its father in the woods. It would grow up a mix breed like Old Lady Zellis, and perhaps assume her position as Ashborough's spiritualist leader.
I went to stand, and in this moment became terribly aware that it wasn't just hypnosis or some form of mind control that'd had my family stricken. It was much, much more than that.
I looked at Christine and Jessica, bloodied and on the bed, now gleefully cradling the newborn beast in their hands. I collapsed back down to the floor, disbelieving at what had become of my wife and daughter.
They both looked up and smiled at me.
Their eyes were glowing gold.
I could do nothing but stay there defeated, staring at the utter evil before me. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Nothing except give in. I crumpled to the floor and pulled myself into a ball, trying to make myself as small as possible. I cried hysterically, hoping I'd disappear from this world forever and ever.
Quite soon, I did.
"W
hen I awoke, many hours later, Christine, Jessica, and the baby-beast were gone. I never looked for them. I knew they weren't in the house...gut feeling, I suppose. Perhaps I didn't care. I went downstairs. The bags were still by the front door. I'd considered taking one and walking out the front door to see how far I'd get before they pulled a Neil Farris on me. Trying to leave meant certain death, you know that already, and to be frank, I didn't really care at the moment if I died, I just didn't want to give them the benefit of doing so. So I washed up and went back to sleep for many hours.
"When I awoke, I went into my office, grabbed the things I needed, along with whatever food was left in the house, and locked myself down here in the basement, where I remain to this day, perhaps two weeks after my family disappeared.
"It has been my intention to chronicle the events taking place here at 17 Harlan Road. I feel that with these tapes, I have adequately done so. I do hope that the recordings on these tapes find the ears of an impartial listener, although it is highly doubtful that once you find your way into Ashborough, that you will find your way out.
"My work, for now, is complete, dear listener. I have only one decision left to make. If I am nowhere to be found, then I have decided to look for Christine and Jessica and I have perhaps fallen victim to the great demon's plague, although he perhaps won't allow me such an escape, since I'd murdered a great many of his progeny. It is my assumption that he wishes me to suffer for as long as possible, and by leaving me alone, he is doing just that. Either that, or I have indeed escaped the bonds of Ashborough, although that is highly improbable.
"My only other alternative is to take my own life, which I have planned for should that decision become conclusive. On the table, before me, sits a needle. In it, hantavirus tainted blood. If you find my body alongside these tapes, then you know the decision I have made and I wish you more successful results in your quest to escape the guard of the Isolates.
"At this point, I bid you farewell dear listener. Thank you for your time and your ears. For that, I am truly grateful.
"Good night."
D
ark basement.
Heavy breathing.
The grainy shuffle of feet on a cement floor. Edgy fingers tapping a table's rough surface. The reek of things moist and damp.
Somewhere upstairs a clock chimes. A useless breeze sweeps a single candle's flame.
A hand moves to a small tape-recorder, sitting on the table top.
One hesitant finger seeks out the stop button. Presses it.
Ten seconds of deep, labored breaths. Then, a hand moves to grab the needle...