by Ron Ripley
“I’m doing fantastic,” Evie spat. “I’m trapped in here. My girls are trapped in here. I don’t know where my husband is. I don’t know where the rest of the police are. Didn’t you say they’d be here soon? What’s soon to you, huh? Three hours? Six? Tell me!”
“Evie,” Laura said. “They’ll be here as soon as they can. Why don’t you come on back to the couch? Maybe we could play a game with your kids.”
“Maybe we could find out where the hell the cops are!” Evie shrieked.
Merle moved from the rocking chair to the couch, wrapping her arms protectively around both girls.
“Yeah, that’s what we should do,” Evie whispered. “Let’s find out where they are.”
Laura lunged for Evie as she twisted around for the door. Evie grabbed hold of the door knob as George launched himself off the couch. Laura managed to catch Evie’s right arm, but Evie ripped the door open.
Before George reached her, Evie kicked out a section of the rock salt on the threshold.
Cold exploded into the room, a shriek driving a spike of sound into his head. George moaned, clamped his hands up over his ears and dropped to his knees. Evie stumbled backward, her calves hitting him in the head and sending her tumbling over him as Laura let go.
Through cloudy, pain-filled eyes George saw Laura slam the door close, grab the box of salt next to it and refresh the broken line.
The cold lessened, but it wasn’t gone.
Evie had gone silent. Laying on her back beside George. Her eyes were closed, and George could hear one of the little girls whimper. Merle was whispering to them, telling Alison and Rachel that everything was going to be alright.
Breathing hard, George rolled onto his side and got to his feet. Laura leaned against the door, the box of salt still in her hands.
“What happened?” one of the girls asked, and George turned and saw it was Rachel who had spoken.
“Your mom’s really tired,” George said. “And stressed. She just needs to rest for a while.”
“We all do,” Laura muttered. She put the box down and sat back on the floor. Laura took her hat off, massaged her temples and looked over at the still body of Evie. “Is she alright?”
“I think so,” George said.
“Could you check please?” Laura asked.
George nodded, turned and felt for a pulse in the soft flesh of Evie’s neck. He found it, the beat of her heart strong and steady. George glanced at Laura, saying, “She’s okay.”
“Thank God,” Laura murmured.
George looked again at Evie, and her eyes snapped open. The whites were bloodshot, the pupils tight.
Evie smiled at him, her lips spreading wide in an unnatural grin.
George pushed himself away from her.
Evie sat up, twisted her head to the left, and then to the right. Some of the vertebrae cracked, and she chuckled.
“That’s not my mom,” Alison whispered, and the words burned George’s ears.
“No,” Evie said. “I’m not your mom. But you look sweet.”
Evie cracked her knuckles and looked around at everyone. “You all do. And I can touch you.”
Evie got to her feet, holding out both hands to keep her balance.
“Who are you?” Merle demanded.
“Who are you?” Evie asked, raising an eyebrow and snickering. “Well, introductions, huh? I’m Pat. Patrick Nett.”
“How did you get in here?” Merle asked.
“This one?” the possessed Evie asked. She patted her own behind and chuckled. “Weak. Weak. Weak!”
Evie looked around, grinning. “Almost too easy to climb in her head. I wasn’t sure I could. But I did. And here I am! Feels a little different, you know?”
“You need to leave her,” Merle said.
Evie glared at her. “I don’t think so. Besides, I need to get this door open for my friends. We’ve been trying to get in for a while. There’s only a few of you holding out, and you’ve got the most interesting place. A little taste for everyone.”
Evie blew a kiss at her daughters, and there was nothing maternal in the act.
“Well, time to let our friends in, what do you say?” Evie said, and she lunged for the door.
George scrambled after her, but Laura was already there. The State Trooper slammed into Evie, smashing her into the wall, grabbing hold of Evie’s arm and spinning her down onto the floor.
“Grab her!” Laura yelled.
George threw himself onto Evie, landing hard on the woman. Beneath him she squirmed, trying to buck him off. A stream of profanity poured out of her mouth, and she threw an elbow into his ribs. His breath rushed out of him, leaving him gasping and trying to hold on.
Then Laura was there.
“Move,” she said, and George rolled away.
Laura got on top of Evie, put a knee into the small of the woman’s back and with surprising ease had Evie handcuffed.
George managed to catch his breath and looked at Merle. The older woman had turned the girls away from the scene, and she had them pressed close to her.
Laura dragged Evie up and propped her against the wall.
Blood trickled out of the corner of Evie’s mouth, her teeth bloody. Evie chuckled, looking from George to Laura.
“What’s funny, Pat?” Laura asked.
Evie spat on the floor and grinned and said, “What you’re thinking right now.”
“What am I thinking?” Laura said.
“Not just you, Pig. All of you,” Evie sneered.
“Fine,” Laura said, sighing. “Tell me, what are all of us thinking right now?”
“That I’m trapped in here with you,” Evie said. “Trapped in her.”
“And you’re not?” Laura asked.
“Tell me what you think,” Evie whispered.
George watched as Evie closed her eyes, twisted her head to the left, and then hammered it against the wall.
The sound of her neck breaking was loud and horrifically clear. As her body slumped over, the temperature in the room plunged. The air between George and Laura shimmered, then Patrick Nett appeared.
He looked like all the others George had seen. Clad in prison garb, face swollen and green, black tongue protruding from his lips. Patrick was short and wiry, and his voice was thin and reedy when he spoke.
“A pity,” he said. “I had hoped to get a little taste of her daughters. But I’ll have to wait on that, won’t I.”
George snarled, grabbed hold of the fireplace poker and lunged at the ghost.
Patrick moved out of the way, laughing. As George lurched by, Patrick struck him on the side of the head. The touch was colder than anything George had felt before, and he screamed, dropping the poker to clutch at his injured ear.
Patrick’s laugh was cut short, and when George turned around to look, he saw Laura. The trooper’s face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her hands, she held Evie’s cast iron frying pan.
She set the utensil down on the floor, turned to George and said in a strained voice, “Let’s look at that ear.”
Chapter 43: Help Arrives
"Hey, Shane," Frank said.
Shane sat up, rubbed at his eyes and said, "Yeah?"
"Someone's here for you."
Shane blinked, looked around and tried to remember where he was.
Ollie's house, he reminded himself. You're at Ollie's house trying to figure this mess out.
Shane stood up and followed Frank out of the guest room he had fallen asleep in.
"Are you feeling alright?" Frank asked.
"Yeah," Shane said, nodding. "You?"
"Feeling a little off," Frank replied. "Kind of strange, but hey, I'll be better."
They entered the main hall, and Shane saw Mason Phillips.
Mason grinned at him, saying, "God, Gunny, you look worse than I remember."
Shane laughed, embraced his friend and pounded him on the back. "You look healthy. And happy. What the hell has gotten into you?"
&nb
sp; Mason held up his left hand, and Shane saw a gold wedding band on it.
"What?!" Shane asked. "Someone actually married you? Did you come into money or something?"
"Let's go with the something part," Mason said, chuckling. Seriousness replaced the mirth, and Mason said, "Tell me what's going on."
"First," Shane said, "I need to ask you this. Do you still believe in ghosts?"
Mason nodded. "Believe in them. Afraid of them, when it's necessary. Is it necessary?"
"Yeah," Shane answered.
"Tell me what you've got," Mason said, looking from Shane to Frank.
Shane did so, with Frank adding information Shane left out.
After a short while, they had told Mason everything, and the man stood with his arms crossed. Finally, he asked, "Am I the only help you've got?"
"Yeah," Shane said. "I'm afraid so. I've got a call into some other friends in Nashua. Hoping they can help with binding, but I haven't heard back. They usually don't do big cases like this."
"Don't blame 'em," Mason said. "This is a nightmare. That being said, how do you want to do this?"
"We want to get them all back into Kurkow Prison," Frank said. "Which means we've got to secure the facility, and then hunt down the others that have gotten out."
"Do you know why they're out?" Mason asked.
Shane frowned and looked at Frank.
"No," Shane said. "I mean. I figured it was just to wreak havoc. You know, bottled up in the prison for all that time."
"Might be," Mason said. "Maybe we can find out if that's all it is, or if they're after something more."
"I think there is," Ollie said from the kitchen.
They turned to look at him. Ollie was in the doorway, Pete lurking behind him.
"What is it then?" Mason asked.
"Pete said there were a lot of calls about Mulberry Street in Gaiman," Ollie said. "Almost exclusively so. Sure, a few other accidents and stuff. Those can be explained away by the weather. The only fatalities, other than the murder of the three women in Kurkow itself, well, were on Mulberry Street."
"Can we bind the prison again with iron chains on the doors?" Frank asked.
"I think so," Shane said.
Mason looked at him. "What about the broken windows?"
"The windows have iron bars on them, or in the frames," Shane said. "They couldn't have come out from there. Otherwise the dead would have been causing trouble a long, long time ago. No, it was when the iron was stripped off the doors that did it. The dead came out of them, one right when the inner chains were cut off. There was something about the doors being locked with those chains."
"Alright," Mason said. "We need to get to Mulberry Street."
Frank turned his attention to the Dawson brothers. "Any luck with the hotel?"
Pete shook his head as Ollie said, "Guess his ex isn't in the office yet."
"Keep trying," Frank said.
"What about Asa?" Shane asked. "And the girl, Emma?"
Before Frank could answer, a cold, powerful blow struck Shane in the chest, knocking him backward. He gasped for breath, stumbled, tripped over his own feet and crashed to the marble floor.
His head struck stone, and he grunted, rolling onto his side. A dull roar filled his ears, and beneath it, Shane heard shouts. Pushing himself up, Shane tried to focus. He saw Courtney standing in front of him, her fists clenched at her sides.
"Why are you concerned about Emma?!" she shrieked, and struck him again.
Chapter 44: The Situation Begins to Change
Edmund was becoming anxious.
From every window of his house, he could see the dead. They were not merely gathered around his house but pressed against it. Edmund could no longer see his yard or anything else for that matter.
His heartbeat quickened at the sight of them, so he went around the rooms and closed all of the blinds. With each window sealed off, the dead began to pound on the walls again.
And they didn't let up.
The doors to the kitchen cabinets popped open, and dishes fell onto the floor, shattering on the worn linoleum. Canned goods fell out of the pantry, the windows rattled in their frames. From beyond the walls, he heard the siding crack and splinter. A crash shook the rear of the house and Edmund realized the ghosts had ripped the porch down.
If they keep this up, Edmund thought, they might rip the house down around my ears.
He shook his head, picked up his pistol and walked with it into the television room. Edmund sat down in his chair and looked at the blank television set. The clock on the wall above the couch read eleven thirty.
I should be watching a rerun of Antiques Roadshow, he thought. Anger flared up. He hated the disruption of his schedule.
Someone pounded on his front door.
For seventeen minutes, they hit the door until Edmund finally stood up and stalked over to it. He threw back the deadbolt and ripped the door open.
Jean Claude stood there.
The dead ceased their assault upon his house.
"Edmund!" Jean Claude said in mock surprise. "Why I didn't realize you were home!"
"What do you want now, Sergeant?" Edmund asked his voice sharper than he wanted it to be.
"Do you know you only have a few neighbors left alive?" Jean Claude asked.
"I did not know any of them were still alive," Edmund replied.
"There are. Five of them now. Two of them," Jean Claude said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone, "are children."
"Are they?" Edmund asked, wondering what the point of the discussion was.
"They are," Jean Claude said, nodding. "We should be in the house soon."
"Mine or theirs?" Edmund asked.
"Theirs."
"Ah," Edmund said, and he went to close the door.
"Edmund," Jean Claude said. "Do you remember that some of the prisoners enjoyed children?"
"Yes."
"And what do you think they will do when we breach the walls of that house?" Jean Claude asked.
"Why do you think I care?" Edmund asked.
Jean Claude didn't reply.
Edmund shook his head and said, "You confuse me, Sergeant."
"You don't care?" Jean Claude asked in a shocked voice.
"I do not care," Edmund affirmed.
"Then why were you a guard?" Jean Claude snapped.
"I needed a job," Edmund answered, and he closed the door.
The dead assaulted his house again as Edmund sat back down in his chair. He looked at the clock, then at the television and sighed.
I'm missing reruns of Hill Street Blues.
Chapter 45: Madness Reigns
Ollie wasn't quite sure what happened, but he knew it wasn't good.
For a moment he and his brother stood in the kitchen, confused as to what to do next. Mason, Shane's friend, was off to one side, and Frank was close to Shane.
Shane had been laid out on the hall floor with the female ghost standing over him.
All of that, Ollie felt certain he could handle.
When she turned and attacked Frank, he felt immobilized.
"Why is she so important, Shane?!" she shrieked, striking at him.
"Calm down, Courtney," Frank said, ducking.
But she didn't calm down, and it was only when Frank had backed down the hall towards the game room that Ollie felt able to move again.
Ollie rushed out into the hall towards Shane and Mason. Mason, in turn, had gotten down on his knees and was pulling Shane into a sitting position.
"Shane!" Mason snapped. "Gunny!"
At the second word Shane's eyes flickered open, and as Ollie reached them, he could see Shane's eyes. They rolled madly in opposite directions.
"Gunnery Sergeant Ryan!" Mason said, his tone powerful. "Who's the female, Gunny?"
"Courtney," Shane whispered.
"How did she get here?" Mason asked.
"Tags," Shane mumbled, and then his eyelids closed, head lolling to one side.
As O
llie watched, Mason reached into Shane's shirt, pulled out a chain and removed a pair of dog tags. He slid them over Shane's bald head, lowered the man gently to the floor and shot a look to Ollie, asking, "Do you have salt?"
"Yeah," Ollie said, confused. "How much do you need?"
"All of it. And hurry up," Mason ordered. There was no give in the man's tone, a promise of violence in his words.
Ollie turned, saw Pete still skulked in the kitchen and yelled to his brother, "Hey, get the salt out of the pantry!"
Pete hesitated and Ollie shouted, "Now!"
Ollie had no idea why Mason wanted it, but from what he had witnessed in his own house, Ollie wanted to make certain the man had it.
Frank reappeared a moment later, disheveled, breathing hard.
"Where is she?" Mason snapped.
"She should be back in the tags," Frank replied. "I had to hit here."
The former monk held up his hands and showed the dark rings on his fingers.
"What?" Ollie asked, confused.
"Iron," Frank began, but he was cut off as Courtney materialized and launched herself at him.
Frank staggered back, caught himself and thrust his hand through her mid-section. Courtney disappeared, and Mason shouted, "Where is that God damned salt?!"
Pete came jogging down the hall a moment later, a large container of Morton's Salt in his hands. Mason reached out, snatched it from him and tore the container open. He threw the top off to one side and stuffed the dog tags into the salt until nothing could be seen of them.
Only then did Mason seem to relax. He sat down on the floor, set the container on the tile beside him and sighed.
"What the hell just happened?" Ollie asked after several seconds of silence.
Frank plodded towards them and sank to the floor. "Courtney went a little crazy."
"I hope to God it doesn't happen again," Pete whispered.
"It won't," Mason said, nodding at the salt pile. "Not as long as she's in there."
Chapter 46: Unfortunate News
When Shane woke up with a headache worse than any hangover he had inflicted upon himself, it was not to any smiling faces.
