by Brian Harmon
But then again, Hector seemed to be changing before his eyes. As soon as he came into possession of that book, something began happening to him. That part about him realizing that he wouldn’t choose Sherry over the book was…disturbing.
He itched to find the next letter. He had to know what happened next.
It wasn’t just about Hector. It was like Isabelle said after they dug up the second letter in the cemetery. There had to be a connection between then and now. The answer to saving Creek Bend today was probably hidden somewhere in the Creek Bend of 1962.
YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE BUNGALOW
That seemed to be the only option. It was the last place Hector was known to be and the most logical place for him to have left another letter.
By the way, he thought. You should call Paul and let him know he didn’t actually kill anybody.
RIGHT. HE’LL APPRECIATE THAT
He shifted into reverse and looked up at the rearview as he backed out of the parking spot.
“Where’re we going?” asked Jay.
Eric had almost forgotten about him. He was sitting in the seat behind him, slouched down, weary, watching him. The gun was put away now. He didn’t look threatening anymore. He looked half-defeated. “To see if that tool shed is still there,” he replied.
He and Holly never explored the back yard. After all this time, it might have been torn down or replaced, but it was the only place he knew to go. It was the last place he knew Hector was still alive.
“Tool shed? Huh?” He looked around, confused. “Why are you going backward?”
Eric glanced forward again and stepped on the brake. Rossetter was gone again. He was looking out over the hospital campus and the surrounding streets. There was nothing in front of him and absolutely no reason to be driving backward in this huge, empty parking lot.
And yet, he’d pulled up right in front of the building before he went inside, intentionally parking as close as possible to it in hopes that he wouldn’t lose sight of it again. It should’ve been impossible for him to go forward without driving right into it.
“Huh,” was all he said.
“What?” asked Jay.
“Let me guess. When you found my Cruiser, it was sitting all alone in the middle of an empty parking lot, nowhere near any buildings.”
Jay stared at him in the rearview mirror as if he’d gone crazy. “And you still are,” he reminded him.
He nodded. It made sense, when you thought about it. Clearly the vehicle wasn’t unseen or he wouldn’t have been able to climb inside and hide behind the driver’s seat.
He shifted into drive and left Rossetter and its monsters for what he hoped was the last time. “I’m just assuming you’re coming with me.”
Jay sat up a little straighter, surprised. “I am,” he said. Then, more bashfully, “That’s… That’s okay, right?”
“Not a problem at all. Just…try to resist shooting me. Far as I know, I can die. And I’d rather not just yet.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Jay actually smiled a little. “So what’s a high school teacher doing snooping around empty rec centers, dark tunnels, abandoned motels and hospital parking lots?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’ve been on the road for three years. I could listen to a long story.”
“Three years?”
He shrugged. “Mine’s a long story, too.”
Eric nodded. “Okay then.” He left the hospital parking lot and drove across town. Along the way, he gave Jay an abbreviated version of the day’s events, beginning with Hector’s first letter. He didn’t talk about anything that came before it, mentioning only that he’d had some previous experiences with the agents of the nameless organization. He also didn’t mention Karen, Isabelle, Holly or Kevin. He preferred to keep a few secrets, especially when it came to his friends and family.
He wasn’t sure if the shorter version made him sound more or less out of his mind, but he was telling these things to a man who’d been murdered twice today and was still here to tell about it, so it seemed safe to assume that he wouldn’t be too quick to judge.
“That’s…amazing,” said Jay. He didn’t say “crazy” or “impossible.” That was a good sign, probably. “So you’re just…trying to piece together this kid’s story? One letter at a time?”
Eric nodded. “And trying to understand what it has to do with whatever those agents are up to today.”
He passed the Top-Down Bar and drove straight to the bungalow’s driveway. Both Mistress Janet and the steampunk monk knew he was snooping around. They both knew he’d been here once already. And both of them had let him go. Neither seemed interested in killing him. Not yet, at least. Why waste time sneaking through that littered forest again?
He pulled up to the blue gate with all its no trespassing signs and killed the engine. The gate was locked, of course. A length of strong chain and a heavy padlock prevented anyone uninvited from driving up to the property. But the lack of any fence meant that the signs bolted to the gate were the only thing keeping out anyone on foot.
He nosed the PT Cruiser up to the gate and killed the engine. “We’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way.”
“What is this place?” asked Jay.
Eric left the windows open for Spooky, who was still sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, and closed the door. “It’s…uh…where they entertain guests.”
Jay shaded his eyes and looked down the narrow, winding driveway. “Are you sure about this?”
“What’re you worried about? It’s not like you can die.”
“No… But I don’t exactly want to wake up in a shallow grave or something.”
Eric cringed. There was a horrible thought. “That’s a good point. Come on.”
They pushed their way through the brush around the gate and started down the long driveway.
“So are you going to tell me your story?” asked Eric.
Jay looked over at him. “I… Yeah. I guess that’s fair. I just…”
“You don’t like talking about it.”
“Right. I…” He sighed and looked down at his own feet. “God, I was stupid.”
“We all do stupid things. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
They walked on in silence for a moment. Then, finally, he said, “It was about three years ago. I was a freshman at college in Indiana. Me and my best friend were roommates. We went to this party and she was there.”
The woman. Mistress Janet, as Eric called her.
“It was so stupid… She…” He groaned.
Eric didn’t interrupt him when he fell quiet. Whatever this was about, it was clearly very difficult to relive. He walked on in silence and waited for him to go on at his own pace.
Finally, he said, “Robbie. That was his name. My best friend.” He shook his head, embarrassed. “She said she was… She told us she ran an adult website. That she was an internet porn star.”
“Oh.” Eric immediately understood the young man’s embarrassment. He could clearly see where this was going.
“Yeah. She offered to let us make videos with her. Said she was looking for attractive young men to…”
“I get the gist,” Eric assured him.
“Right. Stupid, I know. Too good to be true, I guess…”
It wasn’t even remotely difficult to imagine Mistress Janet luring two young, naïve college boys to their doom. That was probably a typical Saturday night for her.
“I was such an idiot. We jumped at the chance. We thought she was so hot… It seemed like a dream come true at the time. We followed her to her car and she drove us to an old office building across town. Looked deserted. Should’ve been our first clue that things weren’t right, but we didn’t care. She just kept flashing those huge boobs at us and we just followed her around like a couple of lovesick puppies.”
“These people are masters of manipulation. Especially her. It’s not your fault.”
Ja
y shook his head. “I should’ve known better. She gave us alcohol. The better to keep us from catching on that the whole thing was stupid, I guess. She took us upstairs to her studio. All these lights were strung up. She had an expensive-looking camera. It really did look like a set. In the end, she took off all her clothes, stripped us down and handcuffed us to the furniture. We thought it was all fun and games. Kinky stuff, right? Then she pulled out a knife and slashed my throat.”
Eric cringed a little at the mental image. It was far too easy to picture Mistress Janet doing just that. The woman was a psychopath.
“She didn’t say a word. It happened just that fast. The last thing I saw was my own blood spraying across the room. The last thing I heard was Robbie screaming for help.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It was. But not as terrifying as waking up again. I sat up, gasping. It wasn’t like waking up from a sleep. It was so much deeper, so much…colder. And I had this horrible feeling that I’d seen things I couldn’t remember, things no living person should ever see.”
Eric had to repress a shudder. What kinds of things did one see during a temporary death? Heaven? Hell? Something else altogether?
“The first thing I did was reach up and feel my throat. It was fine. I wasn’t even hurt. I was still naked, but otherwise it was like it never even happened. Except I could still see where my blood had sprayed across the wall.” He took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. “I was covered in it. I’d been lying in it for a while, I guess. It was tacky. Cold.” He shivered at the memory. “The handcuffs were gone. So was the camera. And the lights. Instead, there were all these candles around the room. Dozens of them. It was freaky. Then I looked over and saw Robbie.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this part, but he didn’t stop him.
“She killed me first. And she killed me fast. But it was obvious that she didn’t do him the same favor. She took her time with him. He was flayed open. Gutted. Parts of him were missing. I could see where the handcuffs had carved into his wrists as he struggled to free himself.”
Eric recalled the ghost woman in the bungalow’s basement. The brutal bruises on her wrists from the shackles that had bound her to the wall while they tortured her to death. The similarities were chilling.
“It was like some sort of demonic ritual. There were these symbols drawn on the walls in our blood. It smelled like something had been burning. It looked like a scene from a cheesy horror movie, except it wasn’t cheesy at all. It was terrifying.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why I came back but he didn’t. I’ve never been able to understand it.”
“Jesus…” said Eric.
“I still couldn’t seem to scream. And it was a good thing, too, because that’s when I heard her voice again. She was somewhere down the hall. I was so freaked out I just…froze. I sat there, in my own, congealed blood, my heart pounding in my chest when it should’ve been cold and still, and I listened. She was on her cell phone, talking to someone. I heard her tell someone to meet her in Detroit. She gave them a date and a street address. Then she hung up and I heard her walk away.”
Eric recalled that he mentioned something about the men from Detroit during their conversation in the tunnel.
Jay took a breath. There were tears shimmering in his eyes. “That’s how I became…” He gestured at his body. “Whatever this is now. I sat there in that room for a long time, trying not to gag on the thick smell of blood. I don’t know how long. It felt like hours, but it was probably only ten or fifteen minutes. Then I finally made myself move. I gathered my clothes up and got the hell out. I didn’t even put them on. I ran right out the door naked and covered in blood. I only stopped to figure out where I was, so I could tell the police where Robbie’s body was…but when I turned around, the office building was gone. Like it never existed.” He looked at Eric again. “Just like that motel.”
Unseen. Another of Mistress Janet’s obsessions, it seemed. “Did you tell the police?”
He shook his head. “Even if I left out the part about getting my throat cut and then coming back to life, I had no evidence. The whole building just vanished. I figured they’d just think I did it. I put my clothes on and ran all the way back to the dorms. It was late. And I was lucky. Nobody saw me. I showered. I got rid of my bloody clothes. I hid in my room for three days, terrified that she was going to come looking for me.”
“But she didn’t.”
Jay shook his head.
“You went looking for her instead. In Detroit.”
He nodded.
“Did you find her?”
“I only caught a glimpse of her. Things got…complicated…in Detroit. She got away. I’ve been searching for her ever since.”
“And now she’s in Creek Bend.”
He nodded. “I finally caught up with her again today. After I…left you in those tunnels…” He sounded genuinely regretful now. It was a considerable improvement. “I went back to the rec center. I didn’t know what else to do. Nothing makes sense here. I was out of ideas. You said something about monsters. I figured you were full of shit. You were trying to confuse me or something. But I saw one. It charged me. I shot it. Killed it. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some stuff. Believe me.”
“They’re wendigoes,” said Eric. “Apparently.”
Jay stared at him for a moment and then turned his attention to the driveway in front of him again. “Whatever you say. I killed it. I made sure it was dead before putting my gun away. Then I turned and saw her standing in the shadows. That’s when she killed me again.”
“And the next thing you knew, you were in that motel and my brother…”
“Killed me again. Yeah.”
“I said I was sorry about that.”
Jay shrugged. “I don’t even care anymore. What gets me is that murdering bitch. I don’t think she even recognized me.”
She probably didn’t. Eric didn’t think that agents spent all that much time dwelling on the faces of the people they murdered.
They reached the end of the driveway and the bungalow came into view. There were no cars parked in front of it. Unless the agents had some very unconventional means of transportation, neither of them seemed to be here.
With any luck, they wouldn’t run into anybody.
But Eric never seemed to have any of that kind of luck.
Chapter Forty-Four
He made his way around the building and into the back yard. There, on the far side of the lawn, where the trees crowded in, was a small structure with a slanted roof and a single window looking back toward the bungalow.
Like the house itself, it seemed to have been well taken care of over the years. The only difference between what he was looking at and what Hector described was that there was no bush beneath the window. It had long since died or been pulled up. Instead, the little building’s foundation was surrounded by a border of landscaping stones.
It was a nice little shed. It didn’t look like the kind of place he was likely to find a fifty-four-year-old skeleton of a twelve-year-old boy.
DON’T THINK LIKE THAT, said Isabelle.
“You’re right,” he muttered.
“What?” asked Jay.
“Huh? Nothing. Sorry. Just…texts from my wife.”
“Your wife? Was she the one at the rec center?”
Eric shot him a dirty look.
“Right,” said Jay. “Sorry. None of my business.”
He turned his attention back to the tool shed. He was almost there. And with each step, he felt a sick dread growing in his gut. He kept telling himself that Hector was fine, that he couldn’t have been fated to simply die after all those letters. But at the same time, he couldn’t comprehend how he could’ve possibly escaped that situation.
The door had a latch for a padlock. But there was no lock on it today.
He opened the door.
Nothing.
The inside was clean. There were gardening
and landscaping tools hanging on the walls. Bags of concrete mix and potting soil were stacked in the corners.
It looked as if they used it as a garden shed these days, rather than a prison cell and torture chamber for adolescent thieves.
So what happened to Hector? Did he escape?
Not that he ever expected to find his body in here. Even if they did kill him, they wouldn’t have just left him here. But he’d hoped for a clue of some sort.
What was he supposed to do now?
This was the right place. Hector was here in 1962. He sat right here on this floor and wrote that last letter. Then he tossed all the pages out the window. Eric couldn’t even begin to understand how they ended up in two manila envelopes in front of an unseen Rossetter Psychiatric Hospital fifty-four years later.
Was it really the gas station attendant? Did he arrange that special delivery?
Did he arrange everything? Was he the reason they were caught in this strange loop of time and dreams and letters?
He looked out the window and across the neatly mown lawn. He could almost imagine the little man scampering around out there, gathering up those pages.
There was something about that man. When Eric asked him if he was God, he replied that he wasn’t, but he certainly wasn’t mortal, either.
Was he an angel?
“So why are we here?” asked Jay.
Eric stood staring out the window. The truth was, he had no clue. He was running out of ideas.
“Are you sure this kid’s even real?” he asked. “I mean, what if it’s just these agents screwing with you?”
“Not possible. He knew things the agents couldn’t know.”
“Are you sure?”
Eric glanced over at him. “I’m sure.” But was he? Who was he to know what these agents were capable of? Maybe they did know everything about him. Maybe they’d always known. Maybe they’d been using him somehow.
He looked back out at the yard, distracted.
“I’m just saying…”
Then something on the wall next to the window caught Eric’s attention. It was a small arrow, carved into the wood.
There was another arrow carved into the boards on the other side of the window, now that he was looking. They both appeared to be pointing toward the window between them.
