Finding no handholds of any type, Katie scooted to the side of the platform and gripped the metal lip protruding from the outer edge. Instead of trying to do the same thing, Julie clung to her friend. With a nod of her head, Katie let Brian know they were as ready as they would ever be.
Closing his eyes, Brian let out a sharp breath then jerked the lever backward. The platform lurched forward like a roller coaster climbing its initial rise before dropping down the first incline. The only difference was the sickening crunch of bones beneath the large, metal wheels, and the disgusting squishes of the liquefied corpses of the tiny, demonic creatures littering their path.
After a few seconds, the rail-car nearly threw them from the platform as it rounded the first corner. The three of them took a collective breath of relief when they noticed they were all still aboard. Their temporary elation was interrupted moments later as the car tilted forward at a steep angle and they began to plummet down the hill.
Chapter 13
So far, there was no indication that the younger version of George would carry out his demands. The Black Knight had waited impatiently near the top of the stairs, masking himself in the shadows of the house’s upper floor. As the first hints of a new day began to lighten the window at the end of the hall, the demon growled his contempt. I’m beginning to think this may have been a fool’s errand, he thought, slowly drifting downstairs and contemplating an alternative solution. He stopped in the main hallway on the first floor, throwing a hesitant gaze between the front door and the bookcase that masked the stairway leading to George’s secret torture chamber, trying to make up his mind. Blowing out a long breath through his clenched teeth, the Black Knight decided he would give George one last chance. “You better not fail me this time,” he muttered as he slipped into the hidden passage. “If you do, it will be you who dies.”
***
The incessant bray of the alarm clock on the nightstand awoke George. Reaching over to silence it before the foul thing gave him a headache, he missed the button. Instead of turning the alarm off, he succeeded in knocking the clock to the floor, causing it to buzz erratically and sound like a malfunctioning robot. The temptation to sit up and crush it under his foot was almost overpowering, but he closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself before bending forward to pull the cord from the wall. The ensuing silence was bliss to his head. Normally he woke in the morning with a caffeine withdrawal headache, and today was no different. Usually he could turn off the alarm fast enough that it didn’t aggravate his throbbing brain, but not this time. The extended wailing of the alarm made his head hurt so much that he was nauseous.
Hopping up from the mattress and making a beeline to the bathroom, Jen noticed her husband sitting on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers firmly against his closed eyes. “Are you all right?” Moving closer, she put a hand on his shoulder.
“Not really.” He grimaced, her voice sounding as if she were yelling at him, even though he knew she wasn’t. “Can you grab some aspirin for me on your way back from the bathroom?”
“Sure, baby. I’ll be right back.” Before leaving the room she bent down and kissed the top of his head lightly.
When her soft footsteps faded into the hallway, he opened his eyes a crack and swung his legs back onto the mattress. He almost kicked his sleeping daughter because he had forgotten she had spent the night in their bed. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on her side and gently shook her. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
With a yawn so wide it looked as if her jaws had unhinged like a snake devouring its prey, Cassie rubbed her eyes and attempted a smile. “Morning, Daddy,” she mumbled. Blinking her eyelids to help her focus, she glanced into her father’s pained face. Her happy expression evaporated when she realized she wasn’t in her own room. “Why am I in here?”
“You had a nightmare, sweetie. Don’t you remember?” Peering at her face, George could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to recall the memory.
Suddenly, her pale blue eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets, her eyebrows looked as if they were scaling her forehead to hide under her mop of blonde hair, and her bottom jaw fell open. “The scary clown,” she whispered in a frightened tone, as if she thought talking about it would somehow cause the monster to reappear.
“You want to know what I think?” Cassie nodded her head hesitantly. “I think it was that little boy who came in to use the bathroom last night. He was wearing a clown outfit. I think his name was Bradley, or something like that.”
Now she shook her head vigorously, her blonde locks flinging wildly. “It wasn’t Brady, Daddy. It was a monster!”
“Sweetie … monsters aren’t real,” he lied, wondering if the creature he spoke to last night was still hanging around. He hoped it had left, but he would have to check the house after Cassie went to school and Jen went to work.
As if the mere thought of his wife had summoned her, Jen held out her hand and dropped a couple of aspirin into his palm. Grabbing the partial bottle of Mountain Dew from his nightstand, George popped the pills in his mouth and washed them down, hoping the caffeine in the beverage would speed the effectiveness of the medicine. “Thanks, baby,” he smiled, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
Reaching out, Jen grasped her daughter’s hand and pulled her toward the edge of the bed. “Let’s go, pumpkin. Time to get ready for school.” She hesitated in the doorway, turning to face George for a second. “I’ll start the coffee pot in a minute.”
“No rush. I don’t think I’m going to go to work today. I feel like crap.”
With a thin smile, Jen turned away and led Cassie to her room.
***
His wife and daughter had left the house a couple of hours ago and the infusion of coffee was beating his headache into submission. Feeling better and having the place to himself, he allowed his thoughts to wander. Perhaps he would finally be able to take care of the unfinished business in the basement. It wasn’t exactly his style to keep one of his victims hanging around for such a long period, but with all the free time he would have while his family was away, he would have ample opportunity to rectify the situation.
Draining the last of the coffee from his mug, he set the cup on the kitchen counter. Less than a minute later he was walking into the space behind the secret panel disguised as a bookshelf and descending the stone steps to his torture chamber.
Methodically, he opened and closed, first the outer door, then the inner panel. Both were constructed of thick steel with a core of styrofoam, designed to muffle the sounds from the secret room and keep them from reaching other areas of the house. As he stepped into the chamber, closing the door behind him, George sensed something was wrong. The single, bare light bulb in the room cast eerie shadows in every corner, but that wasn’t what bothered him. The bulb was only there to conveniently afford him a view of his victims, the fixture hanging from the ceiling directly above the place where his current prisoner was chained in place.
Tilting his head curiously, George realized something was different about the woman. He scanned her naked body in an attempt to determine what was not as it should be. His eyes roamed over her body, starting at her feet and drifting up her slender legs, noting that the shackles around her ankles were still firmly attached. As his gaze moved over her torso, his eyes settled on her bountiful bosom. He couldn’t help himself; he had a thing for big breasted women. Saliva rapidly began to form in his mouth at the thought of ravishing the woman before he killed her, but then his mouth suddenly became as dry as a desert. Her boobs should be heaving with each frightened breath she takes, but they’re just hanging there lifelessly! Quickly, his eyes darted upward and that’s when he noticed her gag and blindfold had been removed.
Suddenly unsure of himself, George took a hesitant step toward his prisoner. As he got closer, he knew it was not a trick. The sickly greenish-blue pallor of her flesh reminded him of the dead woman in the bathtub scene from The Shining. As absurd as the thought was, the expressio
n on her face suggested that she had been scared to death. Anger began to boil underneath the surface of his mind, suddenly feeling as if he’d been robbed of the ultimate pleasure of ending the woman’s life.
A low growl formed in his throat as his rage continued to grow, but it was quickly silenced. The woman’s eyes suddenly sprang open. The whites of them were now cloudy and yellowed, as well as bloodshot, and her pupils seemed to have swallowed her irises, making her eyes look black. As George took a backward step, the woman’s mouth swung open. The foul stench of decay wafting from the orifice brushed against his cheek like a lover’s kiss.
“You have one last chance to do my bidding,” the corpse hissed, its swollen organ lolling from its mouth like an overstuffed sausage, split in the middle like a serpent’s tongue.
“W-w-what if I refuse?” George stammered, taking another step back.
The Black Knight forced the corpse’s cracked lips into a hideous grin. “Then you will share the fate of the pathetic creature before you.”
***
The demonic entity’s warning weighed heavily on his mind for the remainder of the day. A brooding silence surrounded George that neither Jen or Cassie could lift. After several failed attempts, his wife threw her hands in the air in exasperation and sighed. “Fine. Don’t tell me what’s bothering you, then!” Her frustrated tone was borderline hostile as she got up from the dinner table and stormed out of the room. Pouting, with tears forming in her eyes, Cassie quietly hopped down from her chair and slipped upstairs to her bedroom. The vacant expression on her father’s face gave her the impression that he was upset about something. She hoped whatever was causing his silence was not her fault.
An hour passed before George was finally able to shake off the daze. Rubbing his temples, he exhaled softly as he saw the half eaten plates of food. Taking a thoughtful bite of his own dinner, though he wasn’t really hungry, he spat it back onto his fork with a grimace. How long have I been sitting here? Normally he loved it when Jen cooked for him, but his dinner was now cold and tasted horrible.
Pushing his plate away in disgust, he turned his head toward the hallway and cocked it slightly. Straining to hear the voices of his family, the only sound he heard was that of the fall breeze outside, the winds causing the gutters to scrape and rattle against the side of the house. As George scooted his chair away from the table in preparation to check on Jen and Cassie, the Black Knight’s warning resounded in his skull with the echoing intensity of a church bell in the fog. “Kill them, or suffer my wrath,” the voice boomed, causing George to cringe.
As the words faded from his mind, he turned his red-rimmed eyes toward the kitchen window. The wind outside continued to pick up, blowing dead leaves and debris against the window panes. To George, the tiny scratching sounds were like fingernails on a chalkboard. Rising from his chair, he quickly exited the room and left the noise behind before it drove him mad.
His footsteps thumped heavily upon the carpeted stairs as he made his way to the second floor. As he attained the landing, he turned to climb the final few steps and saw Jen standing at the top with her hands on her hips. An angry fire seemed to light her normally soft, blue eyes. “Did you finally decide that you’re ready to talk?” Her harsh tone gave her words a venomous quality, as if she were a viper about to strike.
Glancing up to meet her gaze, George tried to look as innocent and passive as he could manage. “I’m sorry, baby. I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to ignore you earlier,” he apologized, unsure if what he said had any real bearing on the current situation. Hell, for all I know, it could have been something else that set her off.
Her piercing glare softened, but only a fraction. She seemed to be contemplating his words, as if she were lightly swishing a fine wine in her mouth to savor every nuance of its flavor. It was nearly a minute later when Jen finally spoke again. There was still a tense edge to her words, but they were nothing compared to the hostility and sarcasm she first addressed him with. “I forgive you, but you really do need to tell me what’s bothering you.” She eyed his expression as he climbed the remaining steps, then took his hand in hers and led him toward their bedroom.
***
Restless and unable to sleep, George rolled his head toward his lightly snoring wife. Though his pillow partially blocked his view, a sliver of moonlight from the bedroom window illuminated the part of her face that wasn’t buried beneath her dark, wavy hair. She looked peaceful, which made what he knew he must do that much harder to fathom. He loved her dearly, or perhaps the idea of love was an endearing notion he could only hope to achieve in his lifetime, but had made up a story about what was bothering him to quell her anger. As repulsive as the thought was, deep down inside him George knew what he had to do. The Black Knight had forced his hand, putting him into survival mode. Kill, or be killed.
Turning his gaze toward the ceiling, he saw shadows dancing across its stark white surface; the moonlight filtering through the barren oak in the front yard causing them to appear as withered arms, flailing before his eyes as if they were reaching out for him. Closing his eyelids, George tried to block them out. Out of sight, out of mind. Trying to convince himself that this old mantra would work, he soon discovered otherwise. Even with his eyes shut tightly he could feel the shadows attempting to scratch their way into his mind.
Frustrated that he couldn’t block them out of his head, George opened his eyelids. The disfigured shapes, which had crept across the ceiling moments ago, were gone. For a few seconds he considered the idea that he might have dreamed they were there in the first place, but he didn’t honestly believe that.
The Black Knight’s seething voice suddenly hissed in his head. “It’s time.” George clapped his hands over his ears as if he could mute the sound, but was rewarded with the demon’s cackling laughter ricocheting through his mind. Emitting a soft sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, knowing there was only one way to shut the foul creature up.
Quietly, he crossed the room to the partially open closet. Sweat began to dot his brow as he grasped the knob, hoping the door would not creak as he pulled it open. Noiselessly it swung wide, the ambient light in the room glinting off the object leaning against the back wall. Gathering his resolve, George reached for the cold steel of the Mossberg, pump action, 12 gauge shotgun. Soundlessly, he plucked the weapon from its resting place and cradled it in his arms like a newborn baby.
His bare feet whispered across the carpet as he quietly walked to the foot of the bed he shared with his wife. Closing his eyes, George took a deep breath and let it out slowly. After a few seconds, his eyelids fluttered open, his lips pressed together, and his brows drew down as he focused on what must be done. Sliding the stock back and forth, he chambered a shell, the sound shattering the silence and startling Jen awake.
For a brief moment, as her eyes shot open, she didn’t see her husband. When she finally did catch a glimpse of him, she thought she was in the throes of a nightmare. “This isn’t real,” she insisted, her whispered voice cracking. A second later, Jen realized that nothing could be further from the truth.
Like a scene straight out of the Amityville Horror, George squeezed the trigger. The shotgun blast was deafening in the enclosed space, making everything sound as if it were underwater, and the quick burst of fire that licked from the end of the barrel blinded him for a moment.
“Why?” Jen’s eyes pleaded with him as the life rushed out of her body and blood began to saturate the sheets and blankets.
Not deigning to dignify her dying question with an answer, George turned and walked out into the hallway. Focused on his next target, he didn’t notice the glowing, yellow eyes watching on from the darkened corner of the hall. As he chambered a second shell, Cassie stepped out of her room. “Daddy? Is that you?” Her voice trembled and she cried; it took every ounce of courage she had to not run back into her room and hide under her bed.
Before George could pull the trigger again, Cassie saw the yellow glow of th
e monster’s eyes behind her father. Her screams only lasted for a fraction of a second, though. The shotgun roared to life once more, sending chunks of bloody flesh and bone against the wall behind Cassie, leaving only a mangled flap of mutilated skin where her head and neck had once been. Her tiny body twitched for nearly half a minute, as if it didn’t realize the girl was dead, then fell to the floor.
“That was beautiful,” the Black Knight hissed with glee, clapping his bony hands together. “Now, it’s time to move on to bigger and better things.”
Chapter 14
As the platform neared the bottom of the hill, its three riders braced themselves for the sharp bend in the tracks ahead. Katie had a brief flash of a roller coaster she had ridden at Cedar Point ages ago. Once, when she had rode the Demon Drop with her friends, they had told her about a neat trick. “If you put a penny in the palm of your open hand as the ride plummets you to the bottom, the coin will float in the air.” The words of her friend forced her to recall the time she had attempted the very same trick. The one thing her friend didn’t warn her about, though, was that you needed to be careful at the end of the ride when the car quickly sloped from its vertical descent and rolled up the tracks horizontally as the brakes were applied. The result of the omission had given her a considerable welt on her forehead. When the momentum of the ride changed, the hovering coin had smacked her in the head right between the eyes.
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