The Dunewalkers (Moving In Series Book 2)

by Ron Ripley

Eunice nodded.

  “Then come,” he said. He held out Macbeth. “Step into the book.”

  Without hesitation, and with the blind faith of her youth, Eunice vanished into the book.

  Leo flashed the red beam onto the stairs and then took an involuntary step backward.

  The grandmother filled the stairwell.

  She was tall and enormous, a fleshy ball swaddled in sheets cut to fit her massive bulk. Her face was hideous, a mask of pure hatred reflecting the rotten soul within.

  Her small eyes locked onto Leo.

  “You can see me,” she snarled.

  Leo said nothing.

  “Where is she?” the grandmother asked, looking around the room. “She’s gone? She’s gone!”

  She stepped onto the floor and advanced on Leo. “What have you done with my granddaughter? You cannot take her from me! No one can take her from me! You bring her back!”

  “She wants to leave,” Leo managed to say.

  “I don’t care what she wants!” the woman screamed. “It’s what I want, not her!”

  Leo reached back and found the door latch.

  “And you can’t leave,” the woman said, her voice suddenly low and dangerous. “You cannot leave and take my granddaughter away. Who will cook for me? Who will clean? That wretch owes me everything!”

  The ghost lunged at him, and Leo tried to open the door and slip away, but she was far too quick.

  He felt something close with the strength of a vise on his left arm. She shook it, and the flashlight fell from his hand. The bulb shattered and thrust him into darkness.

  So Leo closed his eyes and fought.

  He focused on his hands and managed to push the dead woman away from him.

  She let out a scream of rage as he broke free of her grasp and he managed to rip the door open. Half running, half stumbling he made it out into the yard, the street lights giving definition to the world.

  And to the ghost chasing after him.

  She seemed to roll towards him, a mountain of flesh bent upon his destruction.

  “No!” Leo yelled as he turned. The woman stumbled back, a look of surprise and horror on her face. “Get away!”

  Her retreat to the front door was involuntary.

  “No,” she hissed at him. “I won’t let you do this. I’ll get you if you take her.”

  Leo looked at her coldly. “No. But I will be back. Tomorrow. I will set you free.”

  “They’ll send me to Hell,” the woman said as she looked frantically from left to right. “Spare the rod, spoil the child, but they’ll send me to Hell for it.”

  “No,” Leo said, “they will not. But I will.”

  Chapter 38: Picking out a Toy

  When Brian had walked into the house, Jenny already had a bath ready for him. She had even helped him cleanup and change the bandages on his injuries too.

  As he walked down the stairs and buckled his belt, he saw Jenny. She had a glass in her hand.

  “Booker’s,” she said, giving it to him as he reached her.

  “Babe,” he said, taking the drink and giving her a kiss, “you are the absolute best.”

  “I know,” she said with a wink.

  He finished the liquor quickly. The alcohol settled into his stomach pleasantly and together they walked into the kitchen where he put the tumbler down by the sink. At the backdoor, they pulled on their winter gear and boots and then went out into the yard.

  The snow was unbroken, marred only by the small prints of squirrels. A cold wind skated along and kicked up white clouds from the ground. A moan came from the barn, and Brian desperately hoped it was due to air rushing through holes in the building than from anything supernatural. He knew it wasn’t though. He just knew.

  The front door to the barn was still open. Neither he nor Jenny had the desire to go near it after Leo and Sam’s death.

  Now, however, there was no choice. They needed to go into it.

  As they neared the structure, Brian felt his anxiety build. He remembered Paul’s grandfather, and Paul himself. The little room in the back corner where Paul’s grandfather had kept the child imprisoned there to keep others safe from him.

  The attempt had failed.

  “Babe?” Jenny said.

  Brian blinked and realized he had come to a stop just in front of the door.

  “Sorry, got lost in some unpleasant memories.”

  She smiled and led the way into the barn.

  Snow had drifted in from the open door as well as having sifted down through holes in the roof. The door to Paul’s cell at the back stood open. As Brian and Jenny moved closer, he saw no animal had dared leave tracks in the small little room.

  Smart, Brian thought. The air around him felt heavy, rank with something foul.

  The remnants of Paul Kenyon.

  Jenny stopped and looked in. Brian joined her.

  It was much as he remembered it. A light coating of snow covered most of it and under the bunk stood some of the boy’s toys.

  Brian gently moved Jenny aside and stepped in. He walked forward a few paces and squatted down. Some lead soldiers caught his eye. A dozen of them were scattered on the dirt floor. One of them looked exceptionally promising.

  Brian reached in and picked the toy up.

  A machine gunner, all of the fine, detailed paint worn off from years of use.

  Of course a machine gunner, Brian thought. Death’s scythe on a battlefield.

  He pocketed the soldier and stood up. He looked out the window of Paul’s cell and stumbled back.

  Suddenly Jenny’s arms were around him as she kept him upright and steady. “Brian, what’s wrong?”

  He could only point at the window.

  “What?” she asked. “What is it? I don’t see anything.”

  Finally, Brian found his voice.

  “Leo’s grandmother.”

  Chapter 39: Redecorating the Beach House

  William’s phone no longer worked.

  The laptop couldn’t find a network to connect to.

  He had torn the doorknob off of the door, taken apart the hinges, yet still he could not escape. The glass in the windows was, as he had assumed, unbreakable. The sashes were frozen in place. He had kicked at the walls only to find more horsehair plaster beneath each layer.

  And when he turned around it had a fresh patch, as though a scab had formed.

  William rationed his cigarettes and his alcohol.

  He sat angrily on the couch, lit a fresh cigarette and smoked.

  “William,” Sarah started from a corner.

  “No,” William said, cutting the girl off. “No. Leave me alone. You all won’t let me leave. Fine. But I will smoke. I will drink. And then I will figure out what I’m going to do about this.”

  “You’re being rude,” Sarah said, pouting.

  William let out an angry laugh. “You guys have me locked up!”

  “It’s for your own safety, William,” Kathleen said.

  William bit back a curse. “Leave me alone, Kathleen. I think I know what’s best for me. And I can take care of myself.”

  “The Abenaki are raiding,” Kathleen said.

  “Are they alive or dead?” William asked.

  “Does it matter?” Andrew asked.

  “Shut up, Andrew,” William snapped. “So, Kathleen. Are they alive or dead?”

  A book flew across the room and narrowly missed William’s head.

  “Nice,” William said, exhaling a cloud of smoke towards the bookcase. “Try again.”

  Andrew snarled.

  “Leave, Andrew,” Kathleen said.

  A book, halfway off of a shelf, fell to the floor between the two chairs.

  William took another drag off of his cigarette.

  “Are they alive or dead?” William asked again.

  “Andrew was correct, William,” Kathleen said. “It does not matter what they are. Alive or dead they can hurt you.”

  “I don’t care,” William said, turning to face whe
re Kathleen’s voice was projecting from. “I really, really could care less. Let me out of the damned house, Kathleen. I want to leave.”

  “You cannot,” she said. “I will not be the reason for your death.”

  William laughed. “You will be, one way or another.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked warily.

  “If you don’t let me out of the house,” he said, “I will eat one last great big meal, and then I will figure out a way to kill myself.”

  Kathleen was silent for a moment. “We won’t let you.”

  “You might stop me a few times, Kathleen, but I can guarantee you I will figure out a way.”

  He finished his cigarette and put the butt out on the floor before tossing it into the fire.

  “William?”

  William smiled and closed his eyes.

  He was going to have some fun.

  Chapter 40: A Cold Caller

  Sylvia fought the urge to check her phone to see what the time was.

  She knew Leo had been gone for a while. She knew he might forget completely to tell her if all was well.

  She had set an alarm on her phone so she would remember to go downstairs to meet Brian and Jenny and Jeannette, but would it be safe?

  She shifted her position in her chair.

  Something clicked off in a corner near the door.

  Sylvia turned to look at the entrance.

  The doorknob turned to the left and then to the right.

  She had the only key though so --

  The door swung in.

  The dimly lit hallway was revealed.

  Pale walls and tiled floor. A fluorescent light flickered down the hall.

  “Leo?” she asked.

  “Shh,” a voice in the doorway said. “We’re playing hide and seek.”

  Sylvia swallowed nervously. “Who are you?”

  “Me, Sylvia?” the voice asked, and she realized it was a young boy speaking. “No, we haven’t really met, have we?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No. How rude.”

  Suddenly a form took shape and in a moment she looked upon a pale youth. He wore pants and a baggy sweater. On his head was a battered newsboy hat, tilted back in a way which could only be described as rakish.

  “Sylvia,” the boy said, grinning. “I am Paul Kenyon. Won’t you invite me in?”

  Sylvia noticed he stood right outside of the doorframe.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t believe I will.”

  His grin faded. “You’re not being nice.”

  “I suppose I’m not,” she responded. “Would you like me to help you move on, Paul?”

  He frowned. “Why? Why would I want to? I have so much fun, and besides, I need to speak with Brian in person before I go anywhere.”

  “Why are you hiding from Leo?” she asked.

  “He’s a bully,” Paul spat. “He’s trying to make me go. I’m not going to go. His stupid grandmother made me go. She’ll make him go, though when she gets here.”

  “She’s coming?”

  A wicked smile spread across the boy’s pale face. “Oh yes, Sylvia. She’ll be here soon enough. I won’t be, though. Oh no. Not with those two bullies around. I wanted to come in and have a talk with you. Don’t you want to talk to me?”

  “I am talking to you,” Sylvia answered.

  “I mean closer. Don’t you want to hear me better?”

  “I hear you fine from where I am,” Sylvia said, and then she had an idea. She grinned. “I do have one thing I would like to say, though.”

  Paul clapped his hands and jumped up and down excitedly. “What? What is it? Is it something interesting?”

  Sylvia nodded, opened her mouth and yelled, “Leo!”

  Paul howled in rage, and fury rippled across his face.

  Yet before he could speak, a crash sounded and the walls of the apartment seemed to shake. Something hurtled past her, and she saw Paul vanish. A light exploded in the hallway and the door swung closed, bounced off of the latch and sprang back to crash into the wall.

  Sylvia found herself breathing heavily.

  She tried to get a grip on her breathing and then her heart nearly leaped into her throat as the alarm on her phone went off.

  “Go downstairs.” It was Leo, his voice faint. “Tell the others what’s going on.”

  Chapter 41: The Postal Service Delivers

  A knock sounded on the front door, and Brian turned so quickly his neck hurt.

  “Calm down,” Jenny said gently, putting a hand out onto his arm. “She wouldn’t knock.”

  Brian nodded. “Sorry, Babe. Little gun-shy right now.”

  She smiled at him and went down the hall and opened up the door. Brian could see a small white package secured with the red, white, and blue of the US Postal Service’s priority mail packing tape.

  “Thank you!” Jenny called, waving. At the end of the walkway, the postwoman paused to return the wave before she got back into her mail truck.

  “This is for you,” Jenny said as she brought the box inside and closed the door.

  “From who?” Brian asked, walking over to her.

  “Hmm, Moran Metallurgy?”

  “Oh, that is fantastic!” Brian said, a surge of relief and joy flooding through him.

  “What is it?” she asked, handing it to him.

  “Follow me,” he said, smiling. He led her into the office, took a letter opener off of the desk and cut the tape. Within a few moments, he had the bubble wrap out and on the floor and a clear, Ziploc bag in his hand. Inside of the bag were half a dozen small items wrapped in brown paper and taped up.

  Brian opened the plastic container and shook the contents out onto the desk. On each piece, a number was written. He saw one with the number ‘7’ on it and handed it to Jenny.

  “Here,” he said. “Open it.”

  She looked at him with a confused smile, but she opened the paper. “It’s a ring.”

  She held a smooth, wideband black ring up for him to see.

  Brian nodded happily. “Try it on, Babe. Right index finger.”

  Jenny slid it on and opened and closed her hand. “It’s a little tight, but I could get used to it. What’s it for, and why are there so many of them?”

  “They’re for ghosts,” Brian answered. “Those rings are made out of iron. Not steel. Not aluminum. Pure iron. I got tired of lugging a piece of flat iron around, and I thought it would be easier to wear these. And as for why so many, there’s one for each hand. Two for you, two for me, and two for Sylvia.”

  “And how did you get Sylvia’s ring size?” Jenny asked with a grin.

  Brian smiled. “She took off one of those god awful baubles she’s always wearing one night, and I measured it. I was lucky. I had just decided to try and get them made, and it was the night you two stayed up until two in the morning making Russian tea cookies.”

  “Pretty sneaky, Babe,” she said, shaking her head and laughing.

  “Right,” he said, grinning. He sorted through the wrapped rings, found the other ‘7’ for Jenny, then a pair of ‘5’s. “Do you want to hold onto Sylvia’s?”

  Jenny nodded and took them from him. Brian hummed to himself and picked up the two remaining rings, a pair of ‘9’s. He quickly unwrapped them, slid them onto his index fingers and sighed with satisfaction.

  “Feel better?” Jenny asked.

  Brian nodded.

  “Me too, Babe. Come on, I’ll drive,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “We need to meet up with Sylvia and Jeannette.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Brian said with a sigh. “Sounds good to me.”

  Within a few minutes, they were in Jenny’s car. As Brian buckled his seatbelt he shivered. “Damn. It’s cold in here.”

  “Right?” Jenny said. She turned up the heat. “I swear it’s colder in here than it is outside.”

  “Too damn cold in here,” Brian muttered. He flexed his hands in his gloves, felt the comfort of the new rings and tried to relax.


  Chapter 42: Leo, May 6, 2005

  “I would like to purchase a shotgun, please,” Leo said.

  The older man behind the counter of Ricard’s Ron and Gun Shop looked at him with a bemused smile.

  “Is there a particular model you have in mind, son?” the man asked pleasantly.

  “Yes, please,” Leo said. “I looked at your website, and I saw you have for sale a JW-2000 Coach model side by side barrel Century shotgun. It is equipped to fire 3 inch and 12 gauge shells. The barrel is 18 inches in length and the price you have it listed for is $275.99.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “That, son, is some impressive recitation.”

  “Thank you.”

  The man chuckled and shook his head. “You’re a little different, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fair enough,” the man said, laughing. “Fair enough. The world would be a boring place if we were all the same. Well, I suppose since you read all about the weapon you read all about the laws?”

  “Yes, I --”

  The man held up a hand, chuckling. “No need to repeat them to me, son. I make my living by them. Let’s start with all of the basics, alright?”

  “Yes.”

  For the next half of an hour, Leo filled out paperwork, paid in cash for the weapon, and purchased 12 gauge shells filled with rock salt.

  “Raccoon problem?” the man asked, putting two boxes of shells on the counter.

  Leo had prepared for this question. It had been difficult for it was not in his nature to lie. He knew, however, if he told the man what he really wanted it for then the weapon would not be sold to him.

  “Yes,” Leo said.

  “Rock salt’s good for them,” the man said with a knowing nod. “Especially if you don’t want to kill them. Not their fault there’s so much trash around.”

  Leo nodded.

  “Now listen,” the man said in a friendly tone, “you take this to a range and get used to it before you try scaring off any of those raccoons, okay? She’s got a kick to her, and it will leave you sore as hell if you don’t know what you’re doing. Now Boylan Firearms, up in Manchester, they run a nice little shop with an indoor range. Father and son deal. I’ve known Bob and Evan for years. Tell them Matthew Ricard sent you up and they’ll take care of you.”