by Tom Lewis
She searched along the fence till she found an opening in the bars. She was squeezing through when a sound from the old cemetery caught her attention. She turned to look back at it. Trees and statues and gravestones appeared now as dark silhouettes against a stormy sky. She cupped her hands over her eyes to shield them from the rain but couldn’t see anything out there. At least nothing dog-shaped.
A sudden crash of lightning lit the cemetery.
Something was coming toward her.
In the brief flash, she had seen the Shadow floating toward her across the rugged ground.
Cassie’s heart jumped. She spun back to the fence and quickly squeezed through the opening in the bars. In two steps she was on the steep slope, sliding down it on her bottom to the new cemetery below.
She reached the bottom and sprang to her feet. She spotted the dark outline of a crypt not far away and raced across the lawn to it. She ducked around its corner, keeping her body close to the wall to avoid being seen. A narrow eave high above deflected most of the rain.
She waited a moment to catch her breath, then eased over to the corner and peeked around it. It was dark, and the rain made it difficult to see, but it didn’t look like anything was moving.
Then, over the harsh patter of rain and the rumble of thunder, came a distant howl. It was faint, but Cassie would have known it anywhere. It was the howl she used to tease Rex into making. She leaned back around the corner and listened to see if it came again.
It did, from the direction of another crypt maybe fifty yards away.
The rain beat down harder now as she dashed across the slick grass toward that other crypt. She slipped halfway across the lawn, and fell in the mud covering a fresh grave. She hopped to her feet and backed away, brushing the mud from her jeans.
Then she caught the name on the gravestone, and a lump filled her throat.
KATHERINE “KATIE” DUNNE. SLEEP WITH THE ANGELS, BABY GIRL
Cassie stood there panting, unable to take her eyes off that grave. A drenched bouquet of flowers lay at its base, but it was the name that held her focus.
“Why this one, Cass?” came Silvia’s voice. She stood beside Cassie on her right, and Seth and Trish were on her left. Cassie hadn’t heard them approach.
“’Cause she’s the girl we killed,” said Seth, stepping over to the gravestone. He looked down at the small grave and gave the gravestone a mocking pat. “Ain’t that right, Katie?”
“It was an accident,” Cassie muttered.
“You trying to convince us of that, or yourself,” said Seth. “Cause I’m not buying that you believe it.”
“You were the one driving,” Cassie shot back.
“I didn’t hear any complaints.”
“We didn’t tell you to let go of the wheel like an asshole.”
“Trish wouldn’t beer me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Look, guys, everyone just chill,” Silvia cut in. “There’s nothing we can do about it now, so just drop it.”
“Fine. Dropped,” said Seth. “You cool with that, Cass? No more playing blame game?”
Cassie shook her head. “Whatever. So, what are you guys doing here?”
Trish shrugged. “Hanging with the dead. What else?”
“In the rain?”
“It’s when they’re the most restless.”
“What are you doing here, Cass?” asked Silvia.
“Trying to find Rex. He ran off earlier.”
“Geez,” said Seth, shaking his head. “Get a hamster or a mouse already. Something you can keep in a cage.”
“I don’t want a hamster. I want my dog.”
A faint howl arose over the storm. It sounded closer.
“I think your dog just said he wants a new owner,” cracked Seth.
Cassie ignored him. “Did you guys hear where it came from?”
“I think it was over by that crypt,” Silvia said, nodding to the crypt Cassie had been running toward when she slipped.
“Come on, you guys, help me get him,” Cassie hollered back as she raced off toward the crypt.
She reached it and found its heavy iron door ajar. The gap was just wide enough for Rex to squeeze through.
“Rex,” Cassie called in through the gap, “you in there, buddy?” She listened and a faint whine seemed to come from inside.
“Rex?”
She eased the door open a bit farther, and its rusted hinges groaned with a heavy creak. Her friends caught up.
“Wait,” said Silvia. “You’re going in there?”
“Yeah. I think I heard Rex inside.”
“That’s a bad idea, Cass,” said Trish. “You don’t want to enter a crypt during a storm.”
“Why not?”
“Remember what I said about the dead being restless.”
Cassie stopped. She looked at the girls then back at the gap. She tried calling him again, but this time a lot quieter.
“Rex?”
And again came that faint whine from inside. Cassie turned to her friends.
“Shit. I think I hear him. Will you guys watch the door if I go in there really quick to check?”
“Yeah,” nodded Trish. “But I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea.”
“I’ll be quick.”
Cassie squeezed through the opening and found the inside much larger than she would have thought. Its outer walls were built of stone, about twelve feet in height from the crypt’s floor, with stained-glass windows along their top halves. To her left was an inner wall with marble plaques over the vaults where the bodies were interred.
Cassie descended the five stone steps down to the crypt’s floor. There was little light in there from the stained-glass windows, so she flipped on the flashlight on her cell phone and shined it around. The narrow beam cut through the gloom to the far wall, and she could see it was empty.
“Cass, it’s closing!” Silvia called down, and Cassie heard the heavy door groan on its hinges. She bolted back up the steps and reached the top just as it clanged shut. She threw her weight against it and pounded.
“You guys, this isn’t funny!” she hollered through the door.
“We didn’t do it, Cass,” came Silvia’s muffled voice from the far side. “It closed on its own.”
“Shit!” Cassie swore and pressed against it again. “It won’t open. Can you guys all try tugging on it.”
She waited for a response... but none came.
“Silvia. Can you guys try tugging on it, while I push?”
Again, no response came.
“Silvia? Seth? Are you guys out there?”
She pressed her ear against the door and listened, but all she heard was the storm.
She looked at her cell phone, and there were no bars. Shit. She was so screwed. She looked up at the stained-glass windows, and they seemed to be the only way out. She could see they were set back in the wall about six inches, so there was just enough ledge for her to grab onto.
The window was about a foot beyond her reach, so she leaped up and her fingers caught on the ledge. She chinned herself up, and was placing her forearm on the ledge, when she slipped and fell.
Shit. She leaped up and tried again... and again she slipped off.
A third try ended the same way. As she was preparing for a fourth try...
A sound came from behind her.
It was something clinking against marble. But the only marble in the crypt was the plaques covering the vaults.
Cassie turned to face the wall of vaults and shined her cell phone’s flashlight along their marble plaques. As the light reached the end, a knock came from behind a plaque.
A rush of panic gripped her. She turned back to the windows and leaped up, this time clinging to the ledge with every ounce of muscle she had.
Another knock...
She braced her left forearm on the ledge to hold herself in place, then swung her cell phone against the window.
The force knocked her grip lose, and she fell back to the floor
.
Another knock came from the plaque at the end of the hallway.
She leaped up again and braced her arm on the ledge. It was probably killing her ribs, but she was oblivious to everything except getting out of there.
Knock... then a clink...
It was the sound of a marble plaque hitting the floor.
One of the vaults was unsealed.
Cassie hit her phone against the window with all her strength. Then she hit it again and again. It finally cracked.
Something was moving behind her...
Cassie pressed her palm against the cracked glass, and a large shard peeled lose. She shoved it out, then grabbed the glass next to where it had been and broke it off.
A soft thud hit the floor at the end of the hallway...
Cassie didn’t dare look behind her. She frantically peeled away those broken shards and tossed them onto the lawn till she had made an opening wide enough to squeeze through.
Bracing herself on her elbows, she pulled her body up the wall then eased her torso through the window...
Something grabbed her foot.
Cassie screamed! She squirmed and kicked with her free foot and felt it connect with something. The grip on her foot released. She grabbed the outer rim of the window and pulled herself through.
She fell to the grass below and the air knocked from her lungs. For seconds she could only lie there helpless.
Something was coming toward her across the lawn.
She caught it from the corner of her eye. She spun her head to look in its direction, but it was gone.
It had been the Shadow. The one she had seen in the car the night she died; and then earlier in the cemetery that night. Each time she saw it was from the corner of her eye. This reminded her of an old saying she heard as a child — “Evil hides in the periphery.”
Her breath was back now, and she struggled to her feet. She cupped her eyes and looked around the cemetery, but as far as she could see, she was all alone.
She raced off across the cemetery toward the road. From all around her came new sounds, mixed with the wind and fury of the storm. These were sounds of ghostly wailing, and moans, and terrified screams.
As she finally reached the road, and raced off down it toward the town, one final disturbing sound carried over the storm...
It was a low moanful howl.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Voices
It was the morning after Rex had run off. The storm had passed, but a dreary gray sky clung over the town. Cassie rose from bed with an aching groan. She was crisscrossed with bruises and cuts, and her ribs hurt like hell, but none of that mattered as she raced downstairs to see if Rex had come home during the night.
He hadn’t.
Her mom was still asleep when Cassie trudged back to the cemetery. The grass was damp, and the frosty morning air drilled into her sore joints, but she still combed every inch of the new cemetery.
While it wasn’t as scary in the daylight, it still retained a disquieting air, especially in the eerie silence that seemed to hang over it. There were no calls of birds, or insects, or even the wind — nothing that gave a place life.
It felt dead.
She stopped at the crypt she had fled from the night before and saw the glass shards spread across the lawn. There was also the indent where she had landed.
It hadn’t been a dream.
She spent one more hour retracing the grounds, but without any luck. She returned to the road and took it over to the old cemetery. She stood outside its wrought iron fence and peered through the bars. The eroded turf would be like quicksand from the rain, so it was too dangerous to go inside.
As she swept her eyes across those crumbling monuments and gravestones, she felt a forlorn emptiness hanging over the ancient grounds. It was the quiet stillness of names and families long forgotten.
“Rex?”
She waited... but there was nothing. Nothing moved on those desolate grounds.
She returned home shortly after her mom left for work. She pulled up some old photos of Rex from her cell phone’s camera and pasted them onto “missing” fliers she designed on her laptop. She offered a twenty-five-dollar reward. She knew it was measly, but it was all she had.
She caught the bus down to the print shop and had a stack of fliers printed. She then spent the afternoon stapling them to telephone poles around town.
She returned to school the next day and taped a dozen fliers around campus. They listed her cell number to contact her.
Less than an hour later, the texts started coming in.
The texts that flooded her cell came from anonymous numbers, and many of them had grotesque photos of dead dogs and animals attached. The messages were equally cruel, and one in particular hit her like a punch in the gut: “First you killed a child, now you killed your dog. Would you just die already.”
****
Cassie’s last class was English literature, and by that time she’d been beat to hell by all the texts. Not a single one had expressed sympathy or offered to help; they just vented their hatred toward her.
Hate them back.
It was a small voice in her head that came from out of nowhere, but it clicked — if they hated her, it gave her license to hate them back.
Hurt them.
It was another thought that came from out of nowhere, but it gave her an odd pleasure. She looked across the room at Becky Styles, who Cassie was pretty sure had sent that last text about her dying. Becky had always been a bitch to her, even before the Disturbances, and Cassie imagined her slipping in the shower and bashing her brains out on the tile floor. Or Justin’s buddy Daryl, the asshole who’d always made her life hell, she could see him being crushed by a car.
And Molly Daniels. English lit was Cassie’s only class with Molly, who sat with the popular girls across the room. Cassie was pretty sure Molly hadn’t sent any of the texts, but she still hated her because Justin liked her. Would Molly still be queen bee if those tanned legs and flawless face were covered in deep scars?
Why am I thinking this?
Cassie froze at the sudden realization that these weren’t her thoughts. They came from outside of her. Something wanted her to hate, and it worried her that she had indulged in it so willingly. She tried to shift her focus away from them and onto happy thoughts — memories of hanging out with her dad, and playing with Rex...
Rex is dead.
No! He isn’t! Cassie shook her head.
Then why didn’t he come when you called?
It was like the lighthouse all over again — no matter how hard she tried to shut out those outside thoughts, they kept forcing their way back in...
A scream from across the classroom snapped Cassie from this turmoil. She looked over and saw that everyone had scooted their desks away from Becky Styles. Cassie leaned forward to see what happened, and she almost puked. Becky’s head lay on her desk in a pool of blood, with a ballpoint pen stuck in her eye.
****
Paramedics loaded Becky Styles into the back of an ambulance while Cassie and dozens of students watched from the parking lot. It didn’t escape Cassie that this had happened to Becky just moments after her revenge fantasy.
Nobody had seen Becky do it, so speculation ran wild. And Becky hadn’t made a sound either — she’d jabbed a pen in her own eye, and didn’t make a sound. It had been Jenny Scanlon’s scream that everyone heard.
A new concern troubled Cassie as she looked around at all the grieving students — she felt no pity for Becky. Becky got what she had coming.
Karma’s a bitch, Becky.
She saw students crying in the parking lot...
Becky didn’t give a shit about you.
Others hugged each other. She even saw the old priest consoling some students by their cars.
Did Becky even know your names?
She looked back at the school and saw several girls on the steps outside the entrance crying into each other’s shoulders. But all Cassie felt w
as satisfaction at their grief.
And it terrified her.
Across the parking lot, Molly held Justin’s hand while she explained what happened. Nobody had any idea why Becky did it. She never seemed depressed or anything and had been laughing with Josh Taylor just a few minutes earlier.
A few people tried to explain it away as an accident, but seriously? Someone accidentally had a pen aimed at their eye, then accidentally jabbed it in without making a sound? Molly didn’t buy it.
As Molly’s eyes skimmed the parking lot, she spotted Cassie standing on the far side near the school’s main building. She was alone, and it looked like she was watching several girls on the steps outside the building.
Molly had never really talked to Cassie beyond an occasional “hi” as they passed in the hallway. She knew Cassie’s dad had coached PE at one time, and Cassie had seemed normal enough back then. But after that she had gotten weird, and then outright creepy earlier this year. Molly had never experienced the Disturbances firsthand, but several of her friends said they had, and that was enough to make Molly avoid Cassie whenever possible. She had no idea if Cassie was still that way, but as she watched her watching the girls on the steps, she felt something was off.
“How well do you know Cassie Stevens?” Molly asked Justin.
“Pretty well, I guess.” He shrugged. “Why?”
“Just be careful. There’s something really wrong with her.”
****
Like most Catholic churches, St. Matthew’s held confessions inside a small room that sat off to the side of the main church sanctuary. The confessional had two doors that led inside it, one being for the priests to enter by and the other for the penitents, to allow them anonymity.
Inside, it was a little larger than a closet and divided into two halves by a wall. There was a mesh window in the wall that let the penitents speak to the priests while maintaining their privacy.
Father Jenkins and Father Sean rotated days on which they heard evening confessions, and that day had fallen on Sean’s rotation.
They had opened the confessional early that day on account of Becky Styles’ “accident,” and several students had already come in to discuss their distress over it. Sean did what he could to counsel them.
