"You'll never have to worry about anything again," Barry said. "We'll take care of you, I promise." He tried to hold a measure of warmness on his face, but the maliciousness behind the other demented faces surrounding him gave him away.
"In order to be trapped in the purgatory of this house," Heinz said in his thick accent, "you have to commit a mortal sin." He cleared his throat and looked around at the others as if in reverie. "We've all done it."
Noel's lip trembled. He could barely keep himself from breaking down. He knew he had no way out.
The oldest of the three brothers stepped forward and dropped his knife on the floor. Then he calmly stepped back into the circle without a word.
Noel stared down at the blade. "I... I won't kill anyone," he announced defiantly.
Silence and leers surrounded him. Then finally, almost at a whisper, Heinz stated, "There's only one remaining person alive in this house for you to kill."
Then it dawned on him. Noel was aghast as he realized what they had been trying to do all along. All the scares, all the attacks and torment... they never wanted to kill him; they wanted to drive him to the point of madness so that he would kill himself. That was the only way they could get him to stay for good.
Noel looked at them in horror. He wanted to lash out at them, to shout and scream, but he was frozen. He searched through the crowd for his father, looking to him for guidance. He knew he would make this bad dream go away.
But when he met his eyes, he found that Walter had an uneasy look on his face. "I never wanted this," he started, "but... maybe it would be best."
Noel's heart sank to his feet.
"I screwed up big time. I'll never be able to apologize to you enough for that. But maybe you should stay."
Noel cried. "I don't want to!"
"I know," Walter said. "But I don't know what else to do. I can't help you outside of here. Don't leave me here all alone." There was pleading on his face.
"Do it!" Samantha hissed.
"Take the knife," Mary said sternly.
Barry calmly nodded when Noel glanced at him.
Then he broke down. He couldn't contain it anymore and he let it all out. He dropped to his knees. His face tilted up to the ceiling, stretched into a terrible and wretched mask. He sobbed endlessly, then wailed in despair.
"Shh," Walter cooed. "It's okay, kiddo. They won't be able to hurt you anymore. And I'll look after you. We won't have to worry about anything."
Noel studied him. He seemed sincere. The knife in front of him gleamed.
"It will be quick and painless. Just put the blade to the inside of your wrist and cut down, like this," Walter said, showing him the motion.
Noel picked it up. His hands were shaking so badly, but he managed to put the blade to his wrist just like his father had said. He pressed it against his skin and turned his flesh white as he indented it.
"It's okay," Walter said. "It's okay. It'll be easy. I'm here for you."
The tip of the knife broke skin, drawing blood. Noel stopped. It hurt so bad, and he was so scared.
"It's okay," Walter said.
Noel tried to drag the blade along his skin, but his hand wouldn't move. He couldn't make his body do it. He shook so much that the knife nearly fell out of his hand. The skin around his eyes was puffy and red. He couldn't see through the tears. "I can't do it!" he exclaimed, letting his arms fall by his sides.
Walter stared at him, disappointed. He was sad, but he understood Noel's decision.
But the other ghosts weren't as accepting. The circle began to close in, their faces turning grim.
Noel glanced up and around in bewilderment. He didn't know where to turn. If he wouldn't take his own life, maybe they would take it for him in anger.
Walter jumped in the middle of them, trying to hold them back. "Hey! Hey, come on now! Back off a minute!"
But they didn't listen. Harvey knocked him away with one easy back hand. Walter fell to the floor as the ghosts continued their approach.
He locked his gaze with his son's. "I'm sorry," he said.
Noel wiped his eyes. "I know." Despite all the shocking revelations he'd had, he felt a certain amount of pity and longing for his father. And suddenly he realized he wasn't angry at him anymore. What had happened, happened. There was no going back and he knew that his father loved him, despite his decisions. "I forgive you," he said.
A smile spread across Walter's face for only a second. Then it turned to anguish as he sobbed and grieved helplessly on his hands and knees.
Noel waited for the end. Harvey stood before him and raised his meat cleaver. There was a strange smell on the air, something he couldn't quite place in the confusion. But he thought it smelled a lot like gasoline.
"Noel!" a voice said from somewhere behind the crowd.
He glanced through a narrow space between the grouping of legs and saw Emily in the living room holding a gas can.
The ghosts stopped and turned toward her.
"Get out of there!" she cried. She dropped the can on the floor and it tipped over and dumped its contents across the hardwood and the large throw rug. "Hurry!"
Pilgrimage
Using the opportunity of confusion among the ghosts, Noel found an opening between their legs and scurried through on hands and knees. He got up to his feet and ran around the corner with Emily, his boots splashing in the gasoline.
"Come on!" she urged as they made their way to the front of the cottage. Another gas can was tipped over at the edge of the kitchen, the foul-smelling liquid spilling along the hallway. But there was another scent on the air. It was just as unpleasant, but different. "I pulled the gas line out of the oven, too!" Emily said. "We have to destroy this place."
Noel was humbled by the magnitude of that statement. He looked around then met her gaze again, lost at what to do.
"Matches!" she said. "Help me find some!"
The two of them started rifling through kitchen drawers, trying to find a box of them or something else that could ignite the seeping fumes.
The ghosts came around the corner in a mob.
"There's none here!" Noel said.
"Check the pantry!"
Noel turned and stared at the door. He gulped, remembering the last time he had been inside and seen that hellish vision. He took a step toward it, then he stopped and turned around. "What's going to happen to you?" he asked.
"Never mind about that!" she cried. "There's no time!"
Taking a deep breath, Noel opened the door and yanked on the pull string. The dim bulb came on and for the first time he could actually see the contents of the pantry. It was a small space, and two shelves lined each side of the room, each half-filled with old boxes, jars and tins. His eyes scanned along the shelves, looking for something that would resemble matches.
"Hurry!" he heard behind him.
He caught sight of a small beige box next to a package of spaghetti noodles. Stretching up on his toes, he grabbed it and slid it open to find two dozen of the most beautiful little wooden sticks with red tips he'd ever seen. "I found them!" he cried, running back to the kitchen.
A knife sailed by his face and buried itself into the wall next to him. He glanced over and saw the oldest brother with the mustache leaning forward with his arm outstretched.
The mob was at the edge of the kitchen.
Emily yanked Noel behind the kitchen island away from them. "Light one!" she instructed.
Noel fumbled with the box, plucking a match out with a shaky hand.
"Drag it against that strip there!" she said, pointing.
He did as she said and a small flame was produced. Right as he beheld the alluring spark of orange, a cold hand wrapped around his wrist.
Samantha leaned around the island, a twisted smile on her face. She blew cold air on the flame, extinguishing it. And before Noel could get away from her, she slashed his palm with her scalpel.
Noel screamed and yanked his hand away. He scuttled away from her, pressing his back aga
inst the cabinets.
"No!" Emily cried. She stood up and ran to intercept Samantha. The two of them struggled as Emily tried to push her away. "Noel, light another one!"
The box of matches lay on the floor in front of him. He rushed for it and pulled another one out. He dragged the head along the striker strip, but he struggled to ignite it.
Harvey came into view, towering over the kitchen island. There was nowhere Noel could hide. He took a stride forward and swung his cleaver at him.
Noel scooted under the arc and the blade buried into the cabinet door behind him.
"Do it!" Emily pleaded.
Noel stood up. Harvey yanked his blade out and turned to face him. Samantha shoved Emily out of the way. He struck the match and a flame popped into life. But he held onto it, looking to Emily.
She saw his hesitation. "What are you waiting for?"
"I... I..."
The panic on her face softened. "Noel, you have to do it."
Her reassurance emboldened him. He tossed the match forward and everyone seemed to watch in slow motion as it twisted end over end in the air. Samantha dropped her scalpel and dove for it, stretching her hands out. But it was just out of her reach.
The flame hit a trail of gasoline on the floor and the entire hallway went up in flames. The fire spread quickly to every area the gasoline had splashed, and Noel watched as the fire made its way to the living room and the rug went up in a tall blaze.
Samantha was enveloped by the fire. She screamed and rolled around on the floor in agony. Whether it was out of pain or fear of her demise, Noel couldn't tell.
Emily opened the front door of the cottage and yanked Noel toward it. "Go!" she yelled and pushed him outside.
He fell into the snow and the door slammed shut.
A moment later, the windows on the ground floor burst outward as a large plume of rolling fire and smoke erupted out of them.
Noel shielded his face as glass and wood rained on him. Cries of anguish could be heard inside the inferno. Tears stung his eyes as he watched the burning building, knowing Emily was in there, too.
A hand fell on his shoulder.
He turned and saw Emily standing behind him. "Emily!" he cried. He got up to his feet and hugged her. "You escaped!"
But she didn't share his enthusiasm. "I didn't," she said. "I can't stay here long. But I can for a little bit."
Noel's face fell. "Oh."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I can't come with you. I'm... I'm going to a very bad place."
"I know," Noel said.
She grabbed his hand and looked at the wound that Samantha had inflicted. The slice was long, but shallow. He winced as she handled it. "That'll be okay," she said. "Just try not to use it for a while."
He nodded sullenly, not able to look in her eyes.
"Noel, I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know your dad was dead. I had my suspicions, but he didn't act like most people do when they find out. It was like he was playing along. I guess he didn't want you to find out. If I knew, I would've told you."
"It's okay," Noel said.
She hesitated, like she was afraid what she was about to tell him might offend him. "Try not to be too hard on your dad, okay? The loneliness you feel as a ghost can be really hard on you. It makes you do things you wouldn't normally do." She turned her head away.
"Yeah," he said. "I don't care anymore. He wasn't a good daddy, and I don't like him. But... I'm going to miss him." He tried not to cry, but his face ran wet anyway.
Emily hugged him.
"I guess this is goodbye," he said.
She tried to force a smile. "Yeah, I guess it is. It was nice to—"
Her figure suddenly ignited into flame from her feet to her head, her body dissipating just as quickly as it had been immolated. And then she was gone.
Noel was in shock. He stared at the spot where Emily had stood, unable to believe she was gone. His heart grew heavy as he thought of the place she was going. It was the same place he'd seen in the pantry; full of fire and pain.
He wept, falling into the snow as the gravity of everything that had happened over the last couple weeks weighed down on him. When he felt a little better, he stood and looked around. The sky was clear and almost seemed peaceful. So did the landscape, but it was all a frozen wasteland. There was nowhere to go.
The sedan still sat buried in the snow bank where he'd left it, in no shape to drive. He remembered the long road stretching past the bend and knew he wouldn't be able to make it anywhere before he froze to death. He craned his neck and peered at the lake behind the cottage. He remembered the boathouse and how Emily told him that she used to go out on the water when she lived here. It was his only hope.
As the cottage burned, Noel made his way around it, steering clear of the intense heat. He trudged through the field, the snow nearly insurmountable for him. When he got a good distance from the cottage, he turned and looked back at it.
Billowing clouds of black smoke climbed up into the air, scintillating flashes of orange feeding it. Even from this far back he could feel the heat. And as his eyes scanned the ruin, they fell on something standing at the back door.
Walter pressed his hands to the glass from inside. He stared at Noel with sadness in his eyes. Then he gave what looked like a little wave and he turned and walked away from the door, disappearing into the smoke and fire.
Noel was affected more than he thought he would be. His tears returned, worse than ever. As he turned and continued for the lake, his chest couldn't stop heaving. Ugly noises escaped his throat. And something that seemed more insidious than any of it was nestled inside him: the realization that he loved his father. Despite everything that happened, despite what Walter had done, Noel loved him, and he would miss him terribly.
He journeyed across the field, turning his back on Winterlake for good. He stopped at the shed, knowing that the boat would be tied down. Wiping the snot dripping from his nose with the back of his coat sleeve, he found a knife on one of the shelves and carried it with him to the water. An old, sad-looking wooden boat bobbed gently in the water inside the dilapidated boathouse. A paddle lay inside, looking like it would snap in half from age if he used it too hard. The boat was tied to a post in a tight knot. He tried to undo it with his fingers, but they were too cold and were already halfway numb. Instead, he held the rope steady and sawed at it with the knife. It seemed to take forever, but slowly the rope frayed apart into tiny bundled cords. When the boat was free, he carefully stepped inside and set the knife down on the seat next to him. He grabbed the paddle and dipped it into the water, pulling himself and the boat onto the lake.
The layer of ice covering most of the lake was thin and broke up as the boat made contact with it, creating a constant cracking and grinding sound as Noel watched the frozen chunks float past him.
The wind picked up on the open water and scorched his cheeks. He braced himself against it. As he stared at the distant shore at the other end, hoping beyond hope that there was something behind it, he promised himself that he wouldn't look back at the cottage. He heard the wood sizzle and pop behind him, like it was urging him to take a peek. He made it to the center of the lake when he finally gave in and twisted around.
The three brothers sat on a bench at the back of the boat.
Noel yelped and scurried away from them, pressing himself against the very bow of the old vessel.
Their gazes pierced him like ice. The eldest brother looked down at something on the bench in the middle. Noel's gaze followed his and saw that he was looking at the knife. He was trapped over open water in the same spot where the three brothers had stabbed each other to death.
The brothers' eyes flicked from the knife to Noel and back again.
Noel wondered if he should go for it. But then he wondered what good it would do against the dead. He glanced at the water, but all he saw was an icy grave.
There was a hiss of smoke as the three brothers turned to flame in front of him. The fire stretched up
their bodies, dematerializing everything in its path. Their haunting eyes remained the last thing he saw before they were gone.
And then Noel found himself alone in the boat as it rocked gently from side to side.
Composing himself, he dipped the paddle back into the water and quickened his pace, trying to settle his heart and not think about what just happened. His arms grew tired, but he made it to the other shore. Another field of snow, seemingly much larger than the one behind the house expanded ahead. The snow was just as high, but he would try his best. He grabbed the knife and left the boat behind as he waded through the tall whiteness.
Minutes went by, or maybe they were hours. He replaced one lake for another; unending white drifted by all around him, like he was a ghost floating through purgatory. He became colder and colder, his coat doing nothing to keep his bones from chilling. He was slowing down. He was getting tired. But then, looking upon the horizon, he thought he saw something.
Hurrying his gait, he trudged through the snow, trying to stretch up on his toes and see what was there. And his heart sank when he saw that it was nothing but an empty road. He waited for the sound of a car engine buzzing by in the distance, but nothing came.
Noel's legs were fatigued and he stopped. He had to decide whether to keep going or collapse where he stood. But before he could make that decision, something growled.
A wolf came out of the woods nearby. It stopped and bared its teeth at him. The animal struggled to get through the high snow itself, but it was far more adept at it than Noel; he didn't have a hope of running away. All he had was the knife, and the beast was easily two or three times his size. He would be no match.
The wolf quietly gnashed its jaws, holding its head low and slinking closer to him.
There was only one other option available to Noel.
He looked at the knife in his hand, wondering how painful it would be if he slashed his throat with it. Much less so than being ripped apart by a wolf, he thought. He was rigid and white with fear, making it hard for him to decide anything. But he couldn't let himself go out like this.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 36
