The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4) (16 page)

Lyman moved back to the machine where he’d emptied the tube
and released several latches that ran up and down the front of it. Then he
pulled the machine in half. It split open, hinged at the rear, and revealed the
back of a small being, roughly the size and shape of a child. The top of its
head was smooth, and Winn couldn’t see any ears on the sides of its head. He
was shocked to see that the child’s legs were amputated just below the waist.
Tubes stretched from the sides of the machine to the child’s back, and thin streams
of blood rolled down from each insertion point. It was shaking slightly, and at
first Winn thought it was cold, perhaps reacting to the chill in the cave’s air.
As he saw fluid moving through the tubes, he realized it was shaking in
response to whatever was being pumped into it.

Lyman reached forward and slowly slipped his hand inside a
four inch incision in the side of the child’s torso, shoving in deeply until he
was buried up to the wrist. He moved his hand inside it, reaching for
something. When he retracted his hand, it was covered in blood and gore. He
opened his fist, and in his palm were three small pebbles, no larger than
pennies.

Hand me that tray, would you?
Lyman asked Winn, and Winn turned to
find a small metal plate on the table behind him. He grabbed it and passed it
to Lyman, who took it with his free hand. He held the bloodied hand over the
tray, and slowly turned it until the pebbles slid from the surface of his palm
and hit the metal. They immediately began to turn to liquid, and ran together,
forming globs like mercury.

Winn was mesmerized by the process. He watched as Lyman set
the tray down on the table, then returned to the machine and folded its halves
back around the child, securing it inside.

Then he returned to the tray on the table, where several jars
were lined up along the table’s edge. He selected one of the jars, opened it,
and shook some of its contents over the liquid in the tray. The globs slowly
began to change, hardening and then dissolving into a powder. Lyman scooped
some of the powder into a tiny capsule the size of an aspirin. He took the
capsule and placed it in the lower tube of the launcher, and sealed the end
with a substance that looked like wax.

There,
Lyman said, handing the Y back to Winn.
It’s ready.

What is that stuff?
Winn asked.

It’s complicated,
Lyman replied.

Tell me,
Winn said.
If I’m to use it, I should know what it is.

Lyman looked at Winn, staring him down. Winn returned the
look, defiant. He intended to get a little more information from Lyman than he
seemed willing to impart.

Lyman looked over at the Asian man on the chair.
You see
that man? The one I sent into the cave?

Yes.

He was a Khmer Rouge soldier at Tuol Sleng,
Lyman said.
Are you familiar with
the Khmer Rouge?

I remember something about them,
Winn said.
The Vietnam war?

They were Cambodian. Bloodthirsty, ruthless. Committed
millions of atrocities. Tuol Sleng was a prison in Phnom Penh. That man sitting
right there, that frail little body, personally extracted over twelve-thousand
confessions from his fellow Cambodians at that prison. Do you know how he did
it?

I don’t,
Winn said, although he had his suspicions.

By using some of the worst torture committed in the past
century,
Lyman said.
After he tortured a person, and got them to give up all of their friends and
family with false accusations, he would take them out back and kill them by
pounding their skulls in. Wouldn’t shoot them, because the Khmer Rouge considered
it a waste of ammunition. He personally killed thousands, until the gravesites
at Tuol Sleng filled up, and they began to ship them to Choeung Ek, where there
was much more room to kill and bury people. Millions, by the time the Khmer
Rouge was done. Do you know what happens to a mind that performs those kinds of
atrocities, those kinds of sadistic, unspeakable acts, over and over, for
years?

No,
Winn replied.

You don’t want to know,
Lyman responded.
But it’s potent, I assure you.
Evil and sick, but very potent. Far more potent than the cavalry soldier I used
to use. He was very ruthless with the local natives years ago, but in the
eighties I decided to upgrade to this man.
He pointed again to the small
Asian on the chair.
His level of barbarity is much more intense and focused.
Completely, utterly merciless, without a single shred of decency or an ounce of
remorse. You wouldn’t think it, to see him sitting there, would you?

No,
Winn replied, swallowing hard.
He did something to whoever is further down
that tunnel?
Winn asked.

What’s down that tunnel is the reason I couldn’t allow Deem
to come in here,
Lyman said.
It’s been a hundred years in the making, and I can’t have her
exposed to it. It’s years and years of potent, compounding evil, building and
building, and only a twisted mind like my soldier over there can deal with it
effectively and without emotion. Only a few people know of it, and you are now
one of them. I was willing to trust you because you’re a blank, so I know it
won’t be unceremoniously lifted out of you when you’re not thinking. I can’t
take that risk with others. It’s unnecessary. And it’s unfair to them, to
saddle them with the knowledge of it, if they needn’t know.

So I can tell Deem about this weapon?
Winn replied.

Yes, but not about anything else.

She’ll want to know more.

Lyman smiled.
I know she will. You will not tell her, the
same way you didn’t tell her about carrying the compass for Sani. There will
come a time when I will need Deem’s help, and that’s when I will share things
with her. Until then, protect her for me. There are many things down here she
is not prepared to learn about. I suspect if she knew about my cage down that
tunnel, it would eat at her, and cause trouble for both her and myself. I have
been laying these plans for decades, and I cannot afford to have them derailed.
You understand?

I understand,
Winn replied, fearing that no matter how he handled it, Deem
wasn’t going to understand.

Deem walked determinedly upstairs, passing by Carma, who
stood in the hallway with her mouth open, about to ask a question, but deciding
not to when she saw the look on Deem’s face.

Once she reached her room upstairs, Deem quietly shut the
door and sat down on her bed.

You’re behaving like a child,
she thought.

You’re nineteen,
began the counter argument in her head.

My mother always said the youngest is the most spoiled, the
one who expects things handed to them. The ones who dislike being told ‘no’ the
most and the ones who excel at making it difficult for their parents to do so.

Thinking about her mother made her even more depressed.

So Lyman has something he will only show Winn, so what?
she thought.
There’s probably a very
good reason.

There’s always a reason,
the counter-arguer said.
Just like at church. The
men get to do certain things, and the women have to do other things, usually
less important and less fun. I’ve been hearing this shit my whole life. I
didn’t think Lyman would do it, too; but then, he is a nineteenth-century
Mormon. What did I expect, really?

She looked at her desk. Sitting next to her laptop was the
box that held Lorenzo’s journal.

Did Carma bring that up here?
she wondered, standing up and
walking to the desk. She opened the box and pulled out the journal.
Another
nineteenth-century Mormon,
she thought.
I’m surrounded by them.

But maybe
this
one will talk to me.

She turned the pages of the journal, stopping on the drawing
of the mirror. She admired the intricate illustration.
He took his time
preparing this,
Deem thought.
He really tried to plan things out. Now
he’s just trapped, unable to do anything useful.

She fell into the River, and the mirror came to life.

Deem?
Lorenzo called.
Is that you?

I’m here,
Deem replied. She saw Lorenzo’s face reappear in the mirror. It was
swollen and deformed, the large boils on his skin discolored and infected.
Definitely
the radiation,
Deem thought.
It changed him somehow, just like it
changed Bingham. But Bingham appeared transformed in the house, unlike Lorenzo.

Perhaps Lorenzo’s arrowhead protected him in other ways, too,
she wondered.

Hello, Deem. I’m delighted to see you again. I was worried
you might be frightened off by my story and you’d abandon me.

No, Lorenzo, we’re not scared off, not yet. But our sick
friend, David, has become comatose, just like Henry. We’re worried about him.

I saw the new house appear,
Lorenzo replied.
And there’s another, not yet
developed, but that will appear soon. I’m afraid that one will take Winn.

We have an idea,
Deem said.
We intend to complete Jacob’s plan. We talked
with someone who knows a little about places like the Blackham mansion. She
told us how to collapse the houses. She also said that Jacob’s father was wrong
about the Creepsis. It won’t die when the houses are collapsed. It has to be
taken out.

You mean, kill it?
Lorenzo asked.

Yes, kill it. That’s the only way for it to release the hold
it has on David and Winn. And you.

Deem saw Lorenzo look down and away, a wistful expression
passing over him.

Is something wrong, Lorenzo?
she asked.

No,
he replied.
I know he must be used up. Justice demands it, if nothing
else. It’s only that…Bingham’s been the only living thing I’ve known for more
than a hundred years.

He’s hardly your friend, Lorenzo.

No, I know that. He’s not my friend. He is, and always has
been, a murderer, the man who took my life away from me, and Jacob’s life. Yet,
so many years I’ve spent here, hoping he would drift by one of the doors, so I
could see another living, moving thing, and perhaps talk. It has taken a toll,
I’m sure you can appreciate.

Sounds a little like Stockholm Syndrome to me,
Deem said.

Stockholm Syndrome?
Lorenzo asked.

Oh, I’m sorry. It’s a modern reference, after your time. It’s
when a victim begins to defend their captor, and loses sight of the fact that
they were kidnapped.

Oh,
Lorenzo replied.
Well, if you think that is applicable here, I’ll take your
word for it. I’m ready to admit that isolation has probably ruined any type of
objectivity I might have had about my life.

There was a brief pause in the conversation as Deem
considered what to say next.

This mirror is staying connected much longer tonight,
she observed.

I think, since we’ve met, it now has a much stronger
connection. How soon do you think you’ll engage your plan?

It might be tonight,
Deem replied.
You mentioned you have a device that maps
the houses — can you give me directions to where you think Jacob might be? If
we have to wander around forever we might never find him.

I have studied it for as long as I’ve been in here,
Lorenzo replied.
And he must be
in either one of two places.

Deem pulled out her phone and opened a note.
I’m ready,
she said.
Give me the directions to both.

Lorenzo rattled off a series of turns for each destination,
and Deem typed them into her phone, reading them back to Lorenzo to verify she
had noted them correctly.

If you make a wrong turn and get lost,
Lorenzo said,
remember, the most
important thing is to not cross into the house that will trap you. Leave
something distinguishing by each door in the original, something that can’t be
moved the way my rose was moved, something you can easily see. You can always
drop out of the River and start again, but if you become trapped, you’ll have
no way of finishing.

We’ll use something other than a rose,
Deem said, smiling.

Lorenzo smiled back.
So Jacob’s father had it half right?
I guess my plan was doomed from the start.

You realize that when we collapse the houses, you and Bingham
will be trapped in a single house, together.

Yes. I’m rather looking forward to it.

Why?

I intend for him to take me and dispense with me,
Lorenzo said.
I’ve wanted that
for many years now, a way to end things.

Once the collapse occurs, you’ll be free to move on, on your
own,
Deem replied.
You
don’t need him to finish you off.

I’ve been here so long, I’m not sure I even know how to move
on. I feel like a ghost that’s been trapped and can’t figure out how to break
its pattern. Bingham will do that for me, if I can’t do it myself.

You could stay,
Deem suggested.
Haunt the house properly.

Lorenzo looked away. She was afraid she might have said
something inappropriate.

I’m sorry, Lorenzo, I didn’t mean to upset you.

It’s alright, Deem. You’re young. You don’t understand.

Understand what?

Lorenzo turned his head away from the mirror, and stepped
back from it. Then, the light on the page slowly faded, and the mirror once
again turned into the drawing, sitting static on the page.

Deem wanted to slam the book closed, angry that yet another
ghost from the past didn’t see fit to explain things to her.

Instead, she left the book open, trying to understand what
Lorenzo meant, and why her youth would explain her inability to comprehend his
meaning.

▪
▪
▪

Deem took a long sip from her Big Gulp and set it back in the
Jeep’s cup holder. Winn hadn’t said much as they packed up. He’d raided Carma’s
shed for tools, and he loaded up three large cinderblocks that had been stacked
by the side of the shed, left over from a project so old Carma couldn’t
remember what it was. Deem checked on David and packed fresh flashlights. She
received two rocks from Carma along with instructions on how to use them to
produce elemental fire. Then she re-loaded a spent Big Gulp cup with fresh ice
and Diet Coke from Carma’s refrigerator, hoping the caffeine would help keep
her frosty once they reached Paragonah. It was almost 1 AM.

The ride had been quiet, but as they passed Toquerville, she
had enough.

“Are you going to tell me?” she asked.

Winn sighed. “Why do you think he asked you leave?”

“I don’t know. He has a thing against girls.”

“Highly doubtful. I personally think he’s in love with you,
but knows there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“So he sent me upstairs for love? Please. What did he tell
you?”

“I can’t say, Deem.”

“Look, we’re going into this together. I need to know what
you’re planning to do, or I’m just running around in the dark. That’s
completely unacceptable.”

“Once we collapse the houses, I’ll take care of the
Creepsis,” Winn replied. “Just leave that to me.”

“Ah, yes, you’re so big and handsome; you’ll ride in like Vin
Diesel and save me from the monster, will you?” Deem said, feigning a southern
accent.

“If you want to look at it that way, yes,” Winn replied. “Lyman
gave me a weapon, and showed me how to use it.”

“What is it?”

Winn removed the Y shaped pipe from his jacket and handed it
to Deem. She took it and looked into the two open ends, then shook it. It
rattled.

“Please don’t do that,” Winn said, cringing. “Here, give it
back to me.”

“How does it work?” she asked, not handing it over.

“I’ll aim it at the Creepsis, and drop something into one of
the other openings.”

“Drop what?”

“This,” Winn replied, removing the rock that looked like
coal.

“Let me see,” Deem said, reaching for it.

“Nope,” Winn replied, tucking it back into his jacket. He was
pleased to see it didn’t rub off on his fingers. “You’ll trigger the thing.
You’re not trained on it.”

“You drop that black rock into it, and what happens?”

“Something comes out the other end. I’m supposed to point it
at the Creepsis, drop in the rock, and wait for a combustion to take place.
It’ll take a few seconds to work, so it’s important that the Creepsis not see
what I’m doing and figure it out before it happens.”

“Is that why Lyman wouldn’t tell me about it? He was afraid
I’d spill the beans?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Winn replied, wanting the conversation to
end. “He was afraid you’d give us away. Since I’m a blank, I can handle it.”

“Oh, the blank thing. People sure are taking advantage of
your blankness, aren’t they?” she asked sarcastically.

“Listen, Deem, can we stop this? I’ve got this piece of it
handled, trust me. We need to collapse that house, and we’ll do it together.
Then, stand back and let me do my thing, alright?”

“Just tell me one thing.”

“What?” he asked, exasperated.

“Tell me there’s a really good reason why I can’t know.
Because the blank thing is total bullshit.”

Winn sighed. “Yes, there’s a really good reason.”

“He told you what that reason is?”

“It was obvious to me. And yes, trust me, it’s really good.
Very
good.”

She folded her arms in front of her, aware that it was making
her look like she was pouting. She wanted Winn to know just how peeved she was
with being kept in the dark.

“OK,” she said. “I guess my life is in your hands. When the
Creepsis shows up, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks.”

“Be sure to take care of it fully and completely without any
help from me.”

“I will.”

Deem paused. “A really good reason means you think it’s
something I shouldn’t know. Or can’t handle knowing. Which is it?”

“Deem,” Winn said, “I’m not even sure
I
like knowing.
In fact, if I could erase it from my memory after this is done, I’d do it.”

“That bad?”

“Yes, that bad.”

She sat back in the seat, and unfolded her arms. She could
tell Winn meant it.

“You were attacked by the Creepsis, just like David,” Deem
said. “If things go for you like they did with David, you’re going to be
passing out like he did. That’s the last thing we need at the moment of truth.”