A Matter of Time

by Brian Harmon

I KNOW. IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE

  “She was fine this morning.”

  SHE DIDN’T START ACTING WEIRD UNTIL THE GALLERY

  “But nothing happened to her. I was with her almost the whole time. I would’ve known. Wouldn’t I?”

  MAYBE WE SHOULD LET HOLLY TAKE A LOOK AT HER

  “Maybe… But Holly’s acting kind of weird today, too. I mean what’s going on? Are the agents doing something to the town? Is there something in the water?”

  DIANE SEEMS FINE. SO DO YOU AND PAUL

  Paul made his way through the bathroom ahead of him, following the peculiar smell. This room was considerably brighter than the last. The windows weren’t covered. The sunlight drifted through the gaps between the closed curtains. Like the last time he was here, there was no furniture. But amid the litter that was strewn about the floor was something new. A small, glass jar was sitting in the middle of the room. It was stuffed with odd-looking, smoldering leaves. A soft, white smoke was rising from it, filling the air.

  Eric stopped in the doorway as Paul walked over and examined it. “It’s like incense or something. Was someone performing some sort of ritual in here?”

  A ritual? Or a spell? Eric recalled Hector’s letter. The prayer and the dance. The portal. The summoning. Was this a part of all that?

  He recalled what Mistress Janet told him about conducting experiments of her own. Was this one of those experiments?

  He looked down at his phone again.

  I’M STILL NOT SENSING ANY MAGIC

  Paul coughed and stepped away from the jar. “Yuck. This stuff is foul. It’s making my head hurt.”

  Eric took a couple steps back. “Why don’t you get away from that?”

  Paul coughed again and nodded. “Yeah. It didn’t seem so bad at first, but—” Again he coughed.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here. We’ll go out the way we came in.”

  They stepped between the two bathtubs and walked back into the darkened room. The light from their flashlights filled the space, revealing the body of the dead stranger again. But as they approached the closet on their way back to Holly and Kevin, the corpse suddenly sat up.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Both Eric and Paul screamed. It was really the only word for it. The sounds they made couldn’t really be described as a yell or a shout. Nothing so manly. Their voices were shrill and piercing.

  The freshly risen corpse screamed back at them, a mirror image of their own terror.

  Panicked, Paul raised and fired the gun. Wire Ties fell backward, dead again, a fresh bullet hole in one side of his forehead.

  Eric stood there for a moment, stunned, then turned and looked at his brother.

  Paul looked down at the gun, then back at the corpse again. “Aw shit…”

  “What did you do?”

  His features quickly hardened. “What do you mean what’d I do? I killed a fucking zombie!”

  “You don’t know he was a zombie! What the hell are you? Twelve?”

  “You said he was dead! You checked! That makes him a zombie!”

  “I know I checked, but obviously I was wrong!”

  “Or you were right and he’s a fucking zombie!”

  “There’s no such thing as zombies!”

  “There’s no such thing as genies!”

  Eric had to admit, that was a difficult point to argue with. Who was he to say there was no such thing as anything?

  “If he wasn’t a zombie, then he was a fucking vampire!” Paul’s voice was growing shrill. He was panicking. “Either way, I probably just saved our lives!”

  “Just settle down.”

  “I can’t settle down!” Paul shouted. “If I settle down I might start thinking he wasn’t a zombie or a vampire and I just killed some guy!”

  Eric wasn’t sure what the proper response was. On one hand, he didn’t blame him for getting trigger happy. His experiences with the weird had included being attacked by all manner of unnatural things, from imps and ogres to witches and hellhounds. If he’d been armed when the lifeless corpse suddenly sat up, he might’ve taken the shot, too. But on the other hand, how likely was it that he merely made a mistake when checking Wire Ties for a pulse? What if he was only unconscious? He wasn’t a doctor. He wasn’t qualified to declare someone dead.

  Had they just murdered this man?

  Paul rubbed at a sick pain in his belly and cursed.

  “Let’s just get out of here.”

  Paul glanced up at him. He was understandably shaken. “Just leave him here? Can we do that?”

  “What else can we do? Call the police? Try to explain it was an accident? First we’d have to explain the whole unseen motel thing to them. Then there’s the matter of the dead monster we ditched in the first room.” He didn’t even mention the remains of Aiden’s old mentor lying somewhere else in this building.

  YOU CAN’T AFFORD THAT KIND OF TIME, said Isabelle. THOSE AGENTS ARE UP TO SOMETHING AND IT’S GOING DOWN SOON

  Eric found this troubling. “How soon?”

  SOON, she stressed. DON’T YOU REMEMBER THE VISIONS HOLLY DESCRIBED TO YOU?

  Eric felt his heart sink a little. He did remember the visions she described. She saw a number of bizarre things. One of them was a man rising from the grave…

  He stared down at the body.

  IT’S ALL COMING TRUE AND IT’S COMING TRUE REALLY FAST

  He recalled the riddles she saw in the water. The broken clock was a metaphor representing Hector’s letters from the past. The beautiful woman with the devil horns was a slightly less vague metaphor representing that insane temptress at the bungalow. The man rising from the grave was no metaphor at all. That literally just happened. The only things left were for him, Paul and Holly to go to a party and for the city to burn.

  AND FOR YOU TO DIE, Isabelle reminded him.

  FOR YOUR LIFELESS BODY TO BE DRAGGED AWAY

  “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I remember. Thanks.”

  “What’s she saying?” asked Paul.

  “She says we have to leave.”

  “What happens in invisible motels stays in invisible motels?”

  Eric nodded. “I think so.” He glanced over at him. “And lose the damn gun.”

  Paul nodded. “Yeah. Good idea.” He grimaced and ran his hand over his forehead. He was sweating. “I’m feeling a little queasy…”

  “Zombie killing isn’t for the faint of heart, I suppose.”

  “Guess not…”

  They made their way back through the maze of motel rooms and out into the sunshine. Along the way, Paul wiped his fingerprints from every surface of the gun with his shirt and tossed it into a dark corner.

  Eric glanced back at him. “Told you guns complicate things.”

  “I know what you told me,” he grumbled.

  Holly was sitting behind the wheel, the phone still pressed to her ear. As he approached the vehicle, their eyes met and he saw the look of deep concern there. She knew what just happened. She heard the gunshot. Isabelle was telling her everything as it happened.

  The dead had risen.

  The flames were one step closer to engulfing Creek Bend.

  “Hurry up,” was all she said to him.

  Eric walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. Immediately, Spooky jumped out and ran across the parking lot.

  “Oh no!” cried Holly. “Get him!”

  “Get who?” asked Kevin.

  “Forget about him,” said Eric. “We won’t catch him if he doesn’t want to be caught.”

  “Catch who?” asked Kevin. “What’s going on?”

  “Where do you think he’s going?” asked Paul, shading his eyes and squinting after him.

  “Why won’t anybody tell me what’s going on?”

  Eric couldn’t even guess what the cat was up to. He’d already turned up inside the Goss building and the high school, as if he’d intended for them to meet him there. It was…well…spooky.

  But as he watched, Spooky d
idn’t disappear around the building or into the woods as he expected. Instead, he ran up to the old sign near the office at the far end of the building and then sat there, looking back at them.

  “I think you’re being paged,” observed Paul.

  Eric grumbled and slammed the door closed. All he wanted at this point was to get as far from here as possible before something unpleasant happened again. But he hiked across the parking lot to where the cat sat waiting for him.

  “What?”

  Spooky cried at him.

  “I don’t speak cat.”

  He turned his furry head and looked at the sign.

  “This?” He stepped closer. It was an old, portable roadside sign, the kind where you arranged the letters to create whatever message you wanted on it. The letters themselves were all gone now, blown away, perhaps, in countless storms over the years. The yellowed, plastic face had turned brittle and was broken. The hollow interior was exposed.

  Inside was an old liquor bottle, sealed with candle wax.

  Careful not to scrape himself on the brittle, broken plastic, he withdrew the bottle and then looked down at the cat. This was the second time he’d led him to one of Hector’s letters. “How do you know these things?”

  Spooky had no answer. He turned his yellow eyes to the PT Cruiser as Holly drove up beside them.

  “You found another one!” marveled Holly.

  “Another what?” asked Kevin.

  Eric opened the passenger door and let Spooky in, then he dashed the bottle on the concrete and carefully plucked the message from the wreckage.

  Leaving the broken glass here didn’t bother him. The place was already a dump. A dump almost no one could see, even. Besides, he didn’t dare linger any longer than he absolutely had to.

  He sat down and closed the door, then carefully unrolled Hector’s latest letter and began to read it aloud as Holly sped away from the unseen motel.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I didn’t want to sleep last night. I was terrified to even turn out the light. I just knew the nightmares would be unbearable. How could they not be? I couldn’t even close my eyes without seeing that poor woman’s shrieking face.

  And yet, without sleep, without dreams, I wouldn’t be able to see you. I wouldn’t know where to hide this next letter. If I missed a dream, would I miss the answer to stopping the men in the gray suits?

  So I slept. It took a long time. Hours. But for that one chance at seeing you, I risked the nightmares.

  And the nightmares came.

  They came without mercy.

  At first, it was only the memory of that horrible event as I’d witnessed it. I was back inside that closet, peering through the crack between the doors. I saw her so clearly. Her bloody, bulging eyes, her mouth wide open, her jaws tense, the cords in her neck so tight I thought they might snap. I saw her back arched, her hands clawing at her shackles, her feet kicking uselessly on the concrete. It was as if I were being forced to study every horrid detail of her suffering.

  The worst part about it was that it wasn’t a nightmare. It was happening just the way I saw it. The only difference was that, in the dream, I could clearly see the window above her as she was dying. And outside, it was raining dead birds.

  Yesterday, after I crept out the window, I saw several dead birds lying in the grass as I fled across the yard and back to my bike. It was just like in the lot behind the church. But in my dream, I saw them falling by the thousands. I watched them raining down as I listened to that poor woman scream herself to death.

  Then the dream changed. Suddenly, it was not the woman who was being murdered by the fat man, but me. I was screaming. My insides were on fire. I could see him looking down at me, laughing. And then everything turned red as my eyeballs filled with blood.

  I woke up sweaty and trembling. I didn’t think I could go back to sleep after that. I didn’t think it was possible. But I guess I was exhausted because as the sun came up, I nodded off again. This time, I found you.

  I saw you standing in front of that old motel, the one just down the road from the house where the woman died. You were next to the sign by the office, the one that always reads VACANCY. I’ve never seen it say NO VACANCY. Not once that I can remember. Although I suppose that doesn’t mean it never happened. But when I saw you standing beside it, it didn’t say anything. It was blank. It was broken. It looked so very old. It was a stark reminder of just how far away you are, how unobtainable you are. How very alone I am…

  I’m sorry. I need to get to the point. You already know that I saw you finding this letter inside that sign. You wouldn’t be reading this now, if you hadn’t already done it. I saw you take it from there, so I know that’s where I’ll put it, so that you can find it…so that I can dream about you finding it...so I can put it there…

  I wonder. Which of us really came first?

  I’m sorry. It’s hard to focus. I told you I didn’t sleep well.

  I dreamed you found this letter. I’m not sure how it was you came to find it in such an odd place, but somehow you did. And I had no idea yet what I was going to write in it. I hoped desperately that it wouldn’t be like my last letter, that I would never have to witness anything like that ever again, much less record every horrible detail.

  I dreamed about the things you’re doing in your time. I saw you exploring Creek Bend. I saw you searching for my letters. I saw you talking to someone about the men in the gray suits, about what they might be up to. I didn’t catch it all, but I could see that you were concerned. You think they’re going to do something bad, too. Something worse than bad. Something disastrous. And I saw that you have your own men in gray suits. Except your men in gray suits don’t wear gray suits. They’re something different. But they’re one and the same, aren’t they? They come from the same place. They have the same evil goals.

  I dreamed that you went to the activity center. I recognized it. It was the same as when I went there, but it was like the motel. It was much older. It was deserted. It was dark. And there was something lurking there, something unnatural. Something monstrous.

  You were in danger.

  Will that happen before you read this letter? Or after? I can’t be sure.

  I didn’t get to see what happened next. My mom woke me for school at that moment.

  I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re Mr. Future. This is the sort of thing you do.

  Right?

  I’m sorry. I’m rambling again. Enough about the stupid dreams I had last night. I don’t have much time and I need to tell you what happened after school today.

  My dreams showed me where to hide this letter, but not what I should do next. I spent the day wondering if I should wait for them to show me the way, or if it was more important that I not waste time. I mean, the suits have already murdered that woman. They’ve probably murdered lots of people. How many more will they murder before they’re stopped? And how many of those will be on my conscience if I don’t do something?

  I made up my mind.

  I had no idea where to find the men in gray suits, but I knew where Zachery and his friends should be. As soon as school let out, I ran straight to the high school.

  I remembered how nobody paid any attention to me when I walked into Goss, so I just acted like I belonged there. As I expected, no one seemed to even notice me.

  But I ended up standing in the hallway, looking around, wondering what I was even doing there. I had no idea where Zachery or his friends might be. They’d probably left as soon as the last bell rang. As afraid as he was of the fat man—and I didn’t blame him one bit—he might not waste time lingering at the school.

  I began to think that maybe I should go back to Goss. Maybe that’s where they always met. But then someone said my name.

  It was Sherry. She was walking down the hallway, straight toward me. “What’re you doing here?” she asked.

  What was I doing there? I stared at her, my mouth half-open, searching my brain for an answer that made any kin
d of sense, but I simply couldn’t think of one. I had nothing.

  She stopped right in front of me. I’m not sure if I mentioned just how pretty Sherry Jolinger is. She has these big, incredible brown eyes and this sweet, round face. All her features are little and cute and flawless. I’ve never seen a blemish on her skin. I was always a little in awe of her back when she used to babysit me. So yeah, she was a little bit distracting. But at that moment, it wasn’t her beauty that I found distracting. For that one, horrible second, all I could think was that she’d know I’d been spying on her. She’d tell Zachery. Zachery would tell the men in the gray suits. And then they’d know who I was and where I lived.

  I know it was irrational. I was standing in the high school hallway. It wasn’t as if she’d caught me in the act of spying on one of their secret meetings. But at the time, I couldn’t think straight. I was caught completely off guard. I hadn’t thought to prepare an excuse for being at the high school.

  “Don’t tell me you’re trying to see if that stupid rumor about Edna Lufney is true.”

  I’m pretty sure I looked like a complete idiot. The only thing I could think to say was, “Huh?”

  “You’re cute when you play dumb,” she laughed.

  I don’t mind that she thought I was cute, but I wasn’t playing. I was just plain dumb.

  “It’s a lie. Her little brother made it up and spread it around. So you and all your dirty little friends can stop snooping around here every day after school.”

  I still didn’t know what she was talking about. I hadn’t heard any rumors. I didn’t even know who Edna Lufney was. But I said, “Okay,” and nodded.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” she warned me. “Go on home.” And with that, she turned and walked away. I didn’t even get to hear the rumor. It sounded like a good one, too. I’d have to ask around about it.

  But right now there were more important things than rumors. And as I watched her walk away, that image of her lying still and lifeless at Zachery’s feet flashed through my mind. Panicked, I called out to her.

  She turned and looked at me.

  I almost told her that I knew what she’d been up to. I almost told her she’d die. But I held it back somehow. Instead, I asked, “Do you know where Zachery is?”