314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (34 page)

“It’s a shame what happened to that girl, but that’s not my fault.”

“It’s not?” asked Rachel with a snort and a laugh. “You’re the one that convinced her to come, and now she’s dead. She’s fucking dead, Stephen. How can you be so glib about all of this when a girl died because of us?”

“She chose to come along,” said Stephen. “No one forced her.”

“No, you never have to force anyone,” said Rachel. “That’s just it. You manipulate everyone into getting what you want out of them. And while we’re on the subject, you and Aubrey might’ve fooled Alma, and you damn near fooled me too, but after I realized that you paid Aubrey to have sex with
Jacker, everything clicked into place for me.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Stephen with a high pitched whine.

“You just happened to run into a hooker that looks like all of your old girlfriends, and she just happens to know all about Widowsfield. How fucking lucky. Right? What’re the chances?”

“Rachel, come on,” said Stephen as he started to walk down the stairs again. “Do you hear yourself? You sound crazy now. The girl lived around here all her life. It’s no mystery that she knew about
Widowsfield. You’re just trying to convince yourself that something’s going on when it’s not. You’ve always been like that; always looking for the secrets other people are hiding. That’s what makes you such a good reporter.”

Stephen tried to put his arm around his wife, but she moved away from him. She glared up at him and asked, “Why don’t you just tell me the truth. No more lies.”

“I am telling the truth,” said Stephen.

“Bullshit.”

“Rachel, listen to me,” said Stephen in a last ditch effort to calm her. “I knew Aubrey was an escort, it was pretty damn obvious, but Jacker didn’t figure it out. The dude’s not the sharpest crayon in the box. You know? But the poor guy’s been dealing with his breakup, and he was feeling pretty down on himself, so I struck up a conversation with Aubrey to try and get her to give Jacker some attention. You know, to boost up the guy’s self-confidence a little. I never intended for it to go as far as it did, but while Jacker was talking to her he mentioned Widowsfield and she told us how she used to come here. That’s when I offered to pay her for a few days of her time. That’s the whole story, I swear.”

“And she just happened to look like all your ex-girlfriends?”

“That’s all in the past. I had a lot of girlfriends before you,” he said with a snide grin. He could see that she was beginning to trust him again.

“And they were all blonde, petite, and with tattoos.”

“And then I met you, and I realized that you were the girl I was looking for my whole life. That’s why I gave you that ring.”

Rachel raised her naked ring finger, the indent still visible, and said, “I don’t have it anymore. Rosemary’s got it.”

“Oh right,” said Stephen as he looked at his own ring-less wedding finger. “I forgot about that. But you get the point. I love you, babe. And the only reason I convinced you to leave your job is because I know you’re better than that. You deserve to be a star.”

“I don’t want to be a star,” said Rachel. “I just want to go home.”

“We’ll make it there,” said Stephen. “I promise. Let’s just get this guy that Rosemary wants, and we can start figuring out how to get home. But first, are you and I okay?” asked Stephen as he again tried to put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. This time she didn’t move away. “Do you trust me?”

“No, but I guess I still love you.”

“I’ll take it,” said Stephen with a wide grin.

“But you’d better not be lying to me.”

“Never, babe.”

They kissed, and then continued down the stairs.

In
Cada E.I.B.’s parking lot

March 13
th
, 2012

6:00 AM

Jacker
heard Ben Harper cackling inside the van. The twisting shadows on the wall of the facility transfixed Jacker, but he managed to reach for the van’s sliding side door and open it to find out what the frail man inside was laughing about. “What’s going on?” he asked without turning to look at the two men in the back of the van. He just continued to watch as the shadows formed tentacles that snaked across the wall.

“He’s coming,” said Ben, his voice was no longer maligned by his weakness like it had been before. He wasn’t coughing and sputtering as he spoke.

“Who’s coming?” asked Jacker.

“The one that knows us.
The one they call The Watcher in the Walls.”

Jacker
finally looked away from the twisting shadows and into the van. “What do you mean by that? How is he coming here? I thought we were in the real world now.”

“They’ve turned the machine back on,” said Ben. “I can feel it. The Watcher’s coming.”

Jacker felt himself beginning to panic. The shifting shadows on the wall terrified him, and he wanted nothing more than to get in the van and drive as far away as the gas tank would take him, but that would require abandoning the only people in his life he could honestly call friends, and he wasn’t willing to do that.

“I’ve got to save them,” said
Jacker.

“You can’t,” said Ben. “You’ll die in there. He’ll tear you to pieces. And if he doesn’t, then the witch will see you dead before this
is over.”

“Go to hell, you twisted little fuck,” said
Jacker as he slid the door shut again. He decided that his friends’ safety was more important than watching over Michael and Ben. He held the salt-pellet shotgun tight as he approached the door. It was dark out, but he could still see even darker shapes slithering on the wall, but they retreated as he approached, as if frightened of him.

“This is crazy, man,” said
Jacker to himself as he prepared to open the door. “Paul, you’d better fucking appreciate this, bro.” He gripped the handle and pulled the door open. It was pitch black in the hall beyond, but he stepped in anyhow. He placed his foot against the door to keep it open so that the sparse moonlight could shine in. The door was on the side of the hallway, and he knew that Paul and the others had gone to the right. They’d been headed downstairs, but he hoped that he could scream loud enough for them to hear. He called out Paul’s name, and then Alma’s, but got no answer.

The hall was pitch black, and he couldn’t see the end of it, but the darkness was shifting. He squinted to try and see, and he thought he discerned movement coming his way. His eyes adjusted, and he finally caught a glimpse of what was coming his way. Hundreds of thin, black wires were sliding across the floor, headed towards him like a nest of snakes fleeing a flood.

Jacker leapt out of the door and back towards the van as he cursed. The door was closing slowly, but then the black wires reached out and wrapped around the door’s bar handle. They pulled and the door shut with a thunderous bang. Jacker continued to back away until he collided with the van, cursing in fright the entire time. His hands were shaking, and his heart was beating so hard that he could feel its fast rhythm in eardrums.

“Paul,” said
Jacker as he gripped the shotgun close against his belly. “I’m not going to give up on you, brother.”

Despite what he said,
Jacker ran to the driver’s side of the van while fishing the keys out of his pocket. When he opened the door, Ben was quick to say, “Good, Hank. Get us away from here. Don’t let The Watcher find us.”

“You can go ahead and shut the fuck up, weirdo,” said
Jacker as he turned the van on. “I’m not running this time.” He put the van in reverse and sped backward into a quick, jarring two-point turn. Then he drove out of the parking lot on the side of the building.

“Get us out of
Widowsfield,” said Ben. “You have to get us away from The Watcher.”

“I thought I told you to shut the fuck up.”

Jacker drove along the front of the Cada E.I.B. building and then slowed down. The front of the facility had a small courtyard area that preceded the flat, glass entrance. It was a fairly standard looking edifice, and didn’t even have the company’s name on the front of it. To anyone passing by it would look like a generic office building, and certainly didn’t hint at its expansive size.

Jacker
drove up over the curb so that the van was facing the glass entryway.

“What are you doing?” asked Ben.

“You’ve gotta figure a place like this has got some sort of an alarm system on a back-up generator. Right?” He looked in the rear-view and winked at Ben. “We’re about to find out.”

Jacker
moved his seat’s base back as far as it would go, and then pulled the lever that would let him recline. He leaned back until his seat was pressing into Ben, who squawked a protest.

“Get ready,” said
Jacker, “cause this might hurt.”

He stepped on the gas with the van pointed directly at the entrance to the
Cada E.I.B. building.

Widowsfield

February 23rd, 2007

Rosemary was standing on the cliff overlooking the Jackson Reservoir with her friend, Terra, who’d come with her to assist in rebuilding the town. When they’d first left Chicago to come to this town in the Ozarks, neither of them had expected to be gone for more than a couple days. Rosemary had always known that she possessed a unique gift, but she’d always wondered if it was more of a curse. Now she was sure of it.

“What are we doing here?” asked Terra. She was still upset with Rosemary about a trick that her friend had pulled by infusing false memories into a ring and then giving it to her.

Rosemary was knelt near the edge, beside a guard rail that had been broken and was bent outward. The rail was rusted from where the accident had peeled away its protective coating, and Rosemary set her finger on the jagged, rough metal. She was trying to concentrate as Terra stood behind her, complaining about the chilly air that swept up over the cliff.

“Can we go?” asked Terra. “I just want to go home.”

“I don’t think we should go home,” said Rosemary.

“What?
Why the hell not?”

“Because they’re going to be looking for us.”

“I thought you said you took care of all that,” said Terra.

“I did my best, but I’m not sure how long it’ll work. I’m new at this stuff.”

“Then where the hell are we supposed to go?”

“We can cash
our checks and just go…” Rosemary paused and shook her head. “I don’t know. We can go to Vegas for a few weeks or something. I don’t care where. Give me a minute here, I need to concentrate.”

“On what?” asked
Terra. “What in the hell are you doing?”

Rosemary pressed her hand against the railing and closed her eyes again. “I’m trying to protect Alma Harper.”

“Who?” asked Terra.

“The girl that this town wants back.
The whole time we’ve been here, I could tell that that creature, The Skeleton Man, has been trying to find her. He lost her, and he wants her back. So I’m going to try and make him think she’s dead. If he thinks she went over this cliff and died with her mother, then maybe he’ll stop looking for her. Then, after I’m done with this, we’re going to cut ourselves and spread our blood all over the place.”

“What the fuck?” asked Terra with comical
shock. “I’m not cutting myself up. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“We have to make it look like two people got shot in the head here, Terra. Come on, work with me. I’m trying to save our lives.”

“All you’ve been trying to do is ruin mine. You can cut the shit out of yourself. I’m through letting you fuck with me.” Terra walked away, and headed back to the car they’d stolen from the Cada E.I.B. parking lot.

Rosemary knew her friendship with Terra had been frayed, and would likely never recover. She wasn’t that upset about it, and would be content parting ways once this was over.
Rosemary’s abilities had become so strong over the past month that she wondered if she would ever be able to have friendships again. Now that memories constantly flowed into her head, it would be difficult to ever trust anyone. Rosemary hoped that when they left Widowsfield, her ability would fade. She hoped that the reason she’d become so powerful was because the town itself was trying to speak to her. If that wasn’t the case, then she would be tortured by these memories until they finally drove her insane.

She was terrified of what might happen if her powers didn’t fade and she was forced to suffer with this curse forever.

Inside
Cada E.I.B.’s facility

March 13
th
, 2012

Shortly before 6:00 AM

“It hurts,” said Rosemary, but her voice was barely a whisper as she lay on the gurney. She was holding Alma’s hand, but her grip was growing weaker as her hand turned cold.

“It’s okay,” said Helen as she continued to dress the woman’s wound. She’d pulled the knife out, and they’d done their best to clean Rosemary off after Helen stitched her up, but the old nurse insisted it was best not to move her too much. “You’re going to be all right.”