314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (43 page)

“I’m scared.”

“I know, buddy,” said Desmond. “But you don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here for you.”

“I did something bad,” said Raymond as he felt his eyes begin to tear up. “I watched Terry…”

Desmond hushed his son and pulled him back in for another hug. He cradled the back of the boy’s head as he said, “It doesn’t matter, buddy. None of that matters anymore. We’re free now.”

Desmond stood and took his son’s hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

Raymond and his father walked through the hall and to the front door. A storm was raging outside, but it sounded as if it were passing. The thunder took its time following the flashes of green lightning.

Sunlight was cascading through the storm clouds, and reflecting off the dew on the grass in their yard. Raymond lifted his arm to shade his eyes from the light, but his father pulled him forward. They went out into the yard and approached the beam of light.

“Come on, Ray,” said Desmond. “It’s time to go.”

Together, Desmond and Raymond walked into the warmth of the sun that pierced The Watcher’s storm.

3:14

“Is it boiling yet?” asked Ben of his little sister.

Alma looked in the pot on the stove and nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, good,” said Ben as he slipped on the oven mitts. He pointed over to the butcher’s block and said, “Get the big knife out, and wait until you hear me call you. Then come up and do your part.”

Alma nodded as she watched Ben gingerly lifting the overflowing pot of water. Ben had filled the pot too high before putting it on the stove, and the water had been bubbling over the side and hissing as it hit the stovetop. He cringed as some of the water sloshed over the side and hit his arm.

“Do you want help?” asked Alma.

“No,” said Ben. “Just do what I told you. Okay?”

Alma agreed, and watched as Ben took slow, steady steps towards the stairs with the pot held carefully with both hands. She could hear a dog growling, but Killer’s cage wasn’t where it was supposed to be. She looked around the room, and noticed that it looked different. The window was broken, and she wasn’t sure how that had happened. There was carpet on the stairs, and she was certain that it hadn’t been there before. And the loveseat that had been under the
window was now moved across to the other side of the room. It was as if she was in a dream and the sleeper hadn’t gotten the details of reality right.

She felt something in her pocket, and reached down to see what it was that was jabbing into her thigh. She pulled forth a teddy bear keychain, and then she heard a woman’s voice call her name.

“Alma,” said the familiar voice. “You have to stop him.”

“Who is that?” asked Alma as she searched the room. “Terry, is that you?”

“Yes,” said Alma’s father’s mistress. “You have to stop Ben. He’s not doing what he’s supposed to. He’s going to let The Watcher keep him here if he doesn’t stop.”

“I don’t understand,” said Alma as she searched for the source of the ethereal voice.

“Ben’s giving in to hate. He’s going to fall right back into The Watcher’s web. You have to stop him.”

Alma rushed to the stairs, the knife in one hand and her keychain in the other. She could feel the wet carpet beneath her bare feet as she climbed, and she was reminded of the time she’d arrived home to discover her father naked in her bed. Her stomach lurched and she fell to her knees as the memory addled her.

She could hear her father’s voice beckoning her, “Alma, come here. Sit down with me.”

She began to wretch, and then vomit. Bile and white foam spewed out over her hands as she crouched on the stairs and heaved. All the pain that Michael Harper had caused came rushing back, causing worse damage to her than any weapon ever could. She was assaulted with the memory of his hand pressed over her mouth as she tried to hum like mommy had told her to. She tried to hum, but it didn’t help.

“Alma,” said Terry. Alma looked up and saw Terry leaning down and trying to help her stand. Terry looked different than Alma remembered her, healthier and younger than she’d been. Her visage faded as Alma got to her feet. “Don’t let him make you hate Michael. I can help. Bring Ben to me.”

The hall way was shifting. The floor was carpeted, but then it was wood, as if Alma was flashing between time periods, caught in a dizzying display of reality. She placed her right hand against the wall as she kept the knife tightly in her grip.

“He deserves this,” said Alma as she remembered everything that her father had done.

Ben was ahead, and had walked through the door that led to the master bedroom. Alma was taller than he was now, and she realized that she was no longer the child that she’d been in the kitchen moments before. She was an adult again, and she was watching the scene unfold as it had sixteen years earlier.

This would be her chance to pay Michael back for everything that he’d done. This would be her chance for revenge.

Ben was walking slowly to the bathroom, the pot of boiling water held steady in his hands. Alma walked up behind him, and he looked back when he heard her coming.

“Alma, no,” said Ben. “You have to play your part.”

“Is that for him?” asked Alma. “Is he in the tub? Did you boil that water to pour on Dad?”

Ben was hesitant to answer. Then he finally nodded and said, “Yes.”

“Good,” said Alma. “I want to watch.”

Four fires already raged in Widowsfield, and Stephen was moving on to set the next. He was splattered with blood, but that didn’t matter. He had to finish the job that Rosemary had set out for him.

Widowsfield
had to burn.

Rosemary and Helen had spent the past year filling the buildings of
Widowsfield with flammable items. The decrepit town was already dry and suitable to burn, but the psychometric needed to make sure there would be nothing left of The Watcher’s favorite spots by the time anyone in a neighboring town saw the glow of the flames.

He entered the Salt and Pepper Diner on Main Street and walked around the counter. This would be the last fire he had to set. This place had been the focus of many of The Watcher and The Skeleton Man’s worst atrocities, and it had to be consumed by flame.

Stephen went to the bathroom that was boarded up. He grabbed one of the boards and pulled until he was finally able to wiggle it free. He took the ‘Out of Order’ sign off the handle and tossed it aside. He opened the door and saw the tinder within. A gas can was on the floor.

He uncapped the can, and then splashed the tinder with a generous amount of gasoline. Then he moved out into the dining area to draw a line of gas across the counter. By the time he reached the dessert case near the register, the can was empty. He tossed it aside and then pulled out the lighter Rosemary had left in the bag for him.

Stephen ignited the fire and then ran out of the diner as the gas quickly ignited.

From the center of Main Street, Stephen Knight watched the town burn. He marveled at the scene, and watched the sky fill with smoke that was thick enough to blot out the stars. His mission was nearly complete. There was just one thing left to do.

He took the pistol out of his waistband. He knew there was at least one bullet left. His legs felt like they were losing strength, and he wobbled as he finished his journey. Stephen got on his knees and placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth.

Widowsfield
claimed its final victim as the shot that ended Stephen’s life echoed through the empty streets.

3:14

Paul and Jacker ran across the street and into the house on Sycamore.

Rachel was inside, and she was startled by their entrance. She’d been crying, and her mascara was streaked across her cheeks. “Who are you?”

“Rachel, it’s me, Paul.”

“Who?”
She was confounded and frightened by their intrusion.

“Where’s your ring?” asked Paul. “Put your wedding ring on.”

“No, I took it off,” said Rachel. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not married anymore. My piece of shit husband is upstairs right now, fucking some whore.”

“No, Rachel,” said Paul. “You’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to put the ring on.”

“Trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“Yes you do,” said Paul. “I know you and Stephen have been having problems, but you’ve got to trust me and put your ring back on. You’re falling into The Watcher’s trap.”

“I’m not putting that ring back on,” said Rachel as she looked at the ring that was sitting on the counter.

“Fine, then just hold it,” said Paul. “I don’t have time to argue with you about it.
Jacker, get her to hold the ring. I’ve got to go upstairs and find Alma.”

Paul left them behind as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. He could hear moaning coming from the closed door ahead and he tried to run the length of the hallway to get there, but the walls stretched, and no matter how fast he ran he never seemed to get any closer. He screamed out to Alma, and a woman’s moans of pleasure grew louder each second. The Watcher or The Skeleton Man were trying hard to keep Paul trapped in Rachel’s nightmare, and he couldn’t break free.

“Rachel,” screamed Paul, “put the ring on!”

“Fine, God damn it,” she yelled back.

Paul knew the moment she’d picked the ring back up. The hallway snapped back into shape and the sounds of people having sex behind the bedroom door ceased. Paul was able to grip the handle and open the door.

Alma was standing across the room beside a young boy that was carrying a pot of something that was steaming. Paul called out to her and she turned in surprise.

“Paul? What are you doing here?”

“Get out of here,” said the boy that Paul recognized as Alma’s brother.

“You have to stop,” said Paul. “You’re going to fall into his trap again.”

“Whose trap?” asked
Alma.

“The Watcher in the Walls.”

“Shut up,” said Ben as he tried to walk faster towards the bathroom. The boiling water in the pot splashed over his arm and he cried out in pain before dropping it to the floor. The metal pot banged hard against the carpet as water splashed out at the boy’s feet.

“Look what you did,” said Ben in fury as he leapt away from the boiling liquid. Ben’s expression contorted in anger, and he screamed out as he began to shudder. His bones crackled, and his skin split. Blood seeped from his wounds as he began to convulse. The bones in his right arm grew suddenly long, carving their way through the skin they’d been hiding within. The Skeleton Man emerged from what had once been Alma’s brother, leaving the shredded skin behind as he grew and shook. His teeth chattered as the black wires rose from the floor and wrapped themselves around his legs like vines around the trunk of a tree.

Alma stood beside The Skeleton Man, either unafraid or unaware of what her brother had become. “I don’t want you here, Paul,” she said. “We have to pay him back for what he did.”

“Pay who back?” asked Paul.

“The daddies,” answered The Skeleton Man.

“He deserves this,” said Alma. “Don’t try to save him.”

Paul saw a hand reach up over the edge of the tub in the bathroom. Michael Harper rose from the bath, naked, wet, and shivering. The belt gag that they’d tied on him in the hotel room in Branson had been placed back over his mouth, and he was crying tears of blood as he stared out at the children that meant to torture him.

“Alma, you can’t do this. You’re better than this.”

“No I’m not,” said Alma. “Don’t you get it? This is why I had to come back. This is what Ben was trying to help me do before. The only reason he had to trick us was to try and get out and get to Daddy. He knew that I would never be safe until Daddy was dead. Ben’s the only one that’s ever loved me.” She moved closer to the shambling mass of bones and wire that was standing beside her. The Skeleton Man’s teeth chattered as his sister put her arm around him.

“That’s not true,” said Paul. “I love you, Alma. And I know that…”

“You don’t know anything!” Alma’s sudden fury shocked Paul into silence. “You don’t know what he did.” She pointed back at the shivering man in the tub behind her. “You don’t know what sort of things I’ve had to live through. If you really loved me, then you’d be standing here with me, helping me torture this piece of shit. You’d be the one sticking the knife in and cutting him open. You’d be the one pouring the water in.”

“No I wouldn’t,” said Paul. “Because I know you’re better than that. Alma, you’re better than me. You’re better than him,” he pointed at The Skeleton Man. “You’ve always been a good person, and there’s no way I’ll ever believe that you want to torture someone, no matter what they did. That’s not the type of person you are.”

Paul stepped forward and felt his boot hit wood instead of carpet. He looked down and saw the hole that Alma had cut away in the carpet, revealing the spot where Michael had stabbed Terry to death. The gouges in the wood were healing themselves, and he stepped back, uncertain what was happening.