Voices (Whisper Trilogy Book 3)

by Michael Bray

  “You’d never know, would you?” Isaac said, leaning on the handles of the wheelchair.

  “No, you wouldn’t,” she replied. “Not at all.”

  He crouched by the chair, taking her bony hands in his. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just taking a little bit of getting used to.”

  “I know what you mean. It still feels weird.”

  “You know, I’m glad we got to spend some time together before the end.”

  “Hey, don’t talk like that. We still have plenty of time together.”

  She smiled; a wistful gesture that was almost sad. “We both know that’s not true, although I wish it was. Either way, we had more time than I was supposed to. That’s something I’m grateful for.”

  Isaac lowered his head, staring at his feet. “Are you scared?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “No,” she said, smiling at him warmly.

  “Not even a little?”

  “I’m tired, Isaac. Weak. This isn’t going to be a life for much longer. I don’t want to get to the point where I’m just… existing. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I think so,” he said, trying not to show how upset he was.

  “Besides, I miss your father. I’m looking forward to seeing him again.”

  Isaac nodded and looked out over the clearing, the ground already flush with shoots and juvenile plant life where nature had started the long process of reclamation.

  “Emma will be good to me, won’t she?”

  Melody nodded. “When my time comes, she will be your legal guardian. She’ll look after you. She’ll help you. More importantly, she understands what you went through.”

  “I like her,” Isaac said, then cocked his head.

  “Listen.” He stood and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  She followed his gaze, staring out into the trees, her eyes tracing the perimeter of the clearing. Birds sang in a great multi-species chorus, bees drifted lazily around the flowers and plant life that had already taken a foothold in the fresh earth.

  “It sounds… peaceful,” Melody said, still scanning the trees.

  “I know. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  Melody laughed. “I suppose it is.”

  “Is it really safe? That thing underneath the ground…” He let his words drift away and kicked his feet in the dirt.

  “You know, Dane Marshall tells me the hotel is being demolished next month; the remains of the house with it. That place underneath has already been filled with concrete,” Melody said, smiling at him and squeezing his hands. “You don’t need to be scared.”

  “How is Mr. Marshall?”

  “He’s fine. He’s moved back out to California.”

  “Oh,” Isaac said, staring out at the greenery.

  “So that’s it then. It really is done.” Her smile grew as she said it, almost unable to believe it was true.

  “There was one more thing I wanted to do since we’re up here,” Isaac said.

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged out of his backpack and set it on the ground, then crouched and unzipped it. “I have something for you. Well, something for us. It was something I wanted to share with you.”

  He took the jar out of his bag and handed it to Melody. She turned it in her hand, the sunlight diffusing in the glass. Inside was a plant; a thick green shoot already beginning to flower. Melody looked at her son and frowned.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Emma gave me this before everything happened. Now this is all over, I had this idea, but now I’m here, it doesn’t sound as good as it did in my head.”

  “No, go on. I’m interested to hear it,” she said, smiling at her son.

  “Well, it seems to me that we, our family I mean, have been a part of this place for so long that maybe we should continue to be a part of it.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Melody asked.

  “I thought maybe we could plant this. The two of us together; right in the middle there. What I’m thinking is, that in ten, twenty, even a hundred years, when this place is just another part of the forest, our plant will still be here. I just thought it was something we could do… if you want to.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she replied, smiling broadly.

  For a moment, Isaac could see beyond her illness, the radiance of her smile countering her weakened state.

  “Do you feel up to a walk to help me?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  He helped her out of the chair, hooked her arm through his and led her into the clearing. They walked to its center, a place that in the past had brought fear and dread, but was now no different to the rest of the forest.

  “Here?” he asked as they reached the middle of the clearing.

  “Yes, this is good.”

  He helped her to her knees and knelt beside her.

  “I don’t suppose you brought anything to dig with?” she asked, still grinning.

  “Oh, I forgot.”

  “Well, hands it is then.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she repeated.

  They dug together, scooping out a depression in the soft earth. When it was ready, Isaac removed the plant from the jar, roots and all, and set it in the hole before packing the earth back in around it. He couldn’t help but notice how such a simple task had exhausted her. She caught him staring, and smiled.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “I was just looking at you.”

  She knew why of course, as it was harder to hide how drained she was these days, but she didn’t want to ruin such a special moment. She grinned again and turned back to the plant. “It looks good there. It should thrive quite nicely.”

  “Do you think you’ll come back here again?” Isaac asked, watching for her answer.

  She considered the question, face half in shadow. She looked at the plant, then at Isaac. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen what I wanted to see. What I needed to see. I had to be sure it was over. Thank you for agreeing to bring me.”

  “No problem.”

  “Right now, I’m hungry. How about we go find some food?”

  “Now you’re talking. Come on, let me help you up and get you back to the car. Emma will be wondering where we are.”

  They reached the outer edge of the clearing, and he helped her into the wheelchair before putting the empty jar back in the bag. He was about to toss it over his shoulder when Melody grabbed him by the arm.

  “Look over there,” she whispered.

  He turned back toward the clearing, a small part of him expecting to see something terrifying, then smiled.

  At the edge of the clearing, a small deer gingerly stepped out, nose twitching as it sniffed the air. It regarded them from afar, lifting one foot then lowering it again. It stepped into the sunlight, nosing around the young shoots and keeping a wary eye on them. Isaac shifted position, which was enough to startle it, sending it crashing back into the undergrowth.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” Melody said, giving Isaac’s hand a gentle squeeze. “This is no place for people anymore.”

  Isaac turned the wheelchair and pushed Melody away from the clearing, toward where Emma waited on the other side of the bridge. The wind rocked the trees, birds sang, and nature flourished where death had dominated for so long. Neither Melody nor Isaac looked back at the clearing, nor would either of them visit it ever again.

  AUTHOR NOTES

  Back when the idea for Whisper first presented itself, there was never any intention for it to be any longer than a short story for inclusion in Dark Corners. The initial idea was a story about a newly married couple who move into a house which backed onto a cemetery, and chronicle the weird things that happened to them. I had no idea that the story would go on to not only become a full blown novel, but would also spawn two sequels. I think the inevitable question which might be asked now is about a fourth entry in the series, and i
f one will ever rear its ugly head.

  The answer to that is a resounding no.

  I feel like I have told the story for these characters as well as I can, and feel that this particular world can be left alone whilst I move on to other things. I’ll be the first to admit, however, that knowing I will never write stories for these characters again leaves something of a bittersweet taste. On the one hand, I’m happy to have resolved the story and given it a conclusion which ties up the loose ends (or at least I hope so).

  On the other, it will be with a little sadness that I close the door on this cast of characters for the final time and leave them to their own devices. I look back across the trilogy as a whole story, and like to feel I have done a decent job of telling the tale I wanted to. Sure enough, there were some changes along the way which I didn’t expect. In the first book, Donovan was only ever intended as a minor character to appear in the opening exchange with Steve and Melody as he showed them around Hope House. However, I liked the sleazy prick so much and enjoyed writing him enough to work the storyline to incorporate him more.

  In hindsight, I think I made a huge mistake in killing him off at the end of the first book. There is an existing draft which is vastly different to the final published version, where the roles are switched, and it’s Donovan who survives and Steve who is killed. (That particular draft also has a much darker ending which would have made any sequels impossible.)

  In Henry, I looked to create a Donovan 2.0. He’s essentially the same character with a few minor tweaks.

  I hope those of you who have stayed with the books for the long haul have enjoyed the ride. I have received criticism for some of the decisions I have made along the way which comes with the territory. One was making Melody a little bit whiny and intolerable in the first book (unintentional). I also took some flak for making the town of Oakwell a hybrid of English countryside and American small town (deliberate), and for offing poor Steve at the end of the second book (sorry, but he had to go!).

  I accept this and take it on the chin. This business is one in which it’s impossible to please everyone, and I, as the author, have to be prepared to accept the backlash if it comes. The flipside of that is that the praise is quite nice when it comes and the calls I made in the plot are validated.

  It goes without saying that this book wouldn’t have been possible or as successful without the tireless work of Graeme Reynolds and his team at Horrific Tales publishing. He took a chance on me when I was a wet behind the ears author and helped shape the first book into something I could be proud of. When it reached bestseller status, I was more thrilled for Graeme and Horrific than myself. They really do work incredibly hard, and often receive the least credit. A lot of readers might not realize the level of work that goes on behind the scenes to turn my bloated, typo-filled rambling manuscripts into something worth reading. People like Stu Smith who consistently produces world class artwork for the books, to Lisa Jenkins for her frighteningly brutal but fantastic editing skills (which, incidentally, are yet to take place at the time of writing this), and the equally talented Simon Marshall Jones of Spectral Press, who is a multi-talented individual in his own right. And of course, Kerri Patterson and Vix Kirkpatrick, Horrific Tales wonderful, brutal, beta readers who caused me many sleepless nights during the creation of this book.

  As for the story you just read, I really, really hope you enjoyed it. I wanted to do something different again to the last two books, and had no desire or intention of creating a cookie cutter sequel.

  Lastly, I want to thank everyone who is reading, has read or intends to read (after all we need all the readers we can get) my books, and of course my long suffering family who tolerate the hour upon hour that I spend with my nose buried in my laptop.

  This then, is the end for the Whisper story. Oakwell is far behind us and fading into the dark. That shape up ahead is something new, a different world where I might just have something new to show you. I’ll see you all when you get there.

  7/11/14, Leeds, England.

  CHARACTER CONTEST

  During the closing stages of the editing process of the book, I ran a competition on my Facebook page for two people to be immortalized as characters. Although there were only a few places, a lot of people put forward. Here are the names of those who suggested their names. Thank you all for taking part! The eventual winners are in bold! :-)

  Craig Michael O Connor, Theresa Brennand, Mellissa Kilby, Rachel Hobson , Nadine Johnson, Jimi Hayes, Bradley Burris, Myles Fell, Rosemarie Crespin, Brian Ruden, Carola Hohenstein, Judith Jackson, Karen Paul, Ryker Robinson, Natalie Noble, Catherine Hanna, Brittany Smith, Nicola Higgins, Shari Parham Thompson Monroe, Aurelio Rico Lopez III, Sara Kinsella, Christopher Hood, Gary Williams, Paul Villarreal, Robbie Turner, Julie Washington, Jeannine Langston, Barbra Higgins, Evelyn Crawford, Pam Clarke-Hirst, Jo Ainley, Karen Eighner, Christi Thompson, Kelly Bernard, John Stagman, Katrina Foreman, Collette Noak, Vanessa Ward, James Demain, Hilary Lockman, Anthony William, Derek Mcallister, Vicky Mcpherson, Mandy Sandiford, Amber Keith, Rosie, Diane Griffin, Tara Bersano, Samantha Harrison, Donna Sharples, Mark Denniss, Gino Alfonso, Megan Ingram, Suzanne Delaney, Sandra Schneider, Andy Scobie, Tiffany Hayles Flowers Crosby, Manda Banks, Cindy Kinney Ahlgren, Debby Demain, Gary Mills Millington, Desiree Peterson, Barry Smith, Carmen Pescod, Lori Anderson Mills,Warren Bush, Ruth Brook, Marianne Spitzer, Natalie Noble, Christopher Curtis, Tiffanie Leach, Amanda Wimer, Rebina Henderson, Yolanda Lamas, Amanda Doherty, Bonnie KB Ryder, Matty bob Cash, Andrea Figard, Alissa Barber, Jessica Ann Mineard Held, Angela Lockwood, Paul Blanchfield, Dana Marie, Shaun Hupp, Tracy Wharton Beattie, Genevive Scholl, Linzi Foley, Emma Jane Law, Stacey Krlic, Tyrone Bleakley, Dianne Hunt, Michelle Louise Smart, Jimmy Kerr, Mariah E Wilson, Jonny Martin, Todd Barselow, Mal Dybevic, Tanya Gaunt, Oli Clarke, Andrea Harwood Young, Kim Shown, Becky Muth.

  THANK YOU FOR READING

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  THE HORRIFIC TALES PUBLISHING TEAM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Michael Bray is a Horror author based in Leeds, England. Influenced from an early age by the suspense horror of authors such as Stephen King, and the trashy pulp TV shows like Tales From The Crypt & The Twilight Zone, he started to work on his own fiction, and spent many years developing his style.

  In May 2012, he signed a deal with the highly reputable Dark Hall Press to print and distribute his collection of interlinked short stories titled Dark Corners, which was released in September 2012. His second release was a Novella titled MEAT which was initially self-published before being picked up by J. Ellington Ashton Press. His first full length novel, a supernatural horror titled Whisper was also initially self-published, and following great critical acclaim, was sold to Horrific Tales publishing - his first advance paying sale.

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  Also from Horrific Tales Publishing

  When John Simpson hears of a bizarre animal attack in
his old home town of High Moor, it stirs memories of a long forgotten horror. John knows the truth. A werewolf stalks the town once more, and on the night of the next full moon, the killing will begin again. He should know. He survived a werewolf attack in 1986, during the worst year of his life.

  It’s 1986 and the town is gripped in terror after the mutilated corpse of a young boy is found in the woods. When Sergeant Steven Wilkinson begins an investigation, with the help of a specialist hunter, he soon realises that this is no ordinary animal attack. Werewolves are real, and the trail of bodies is just beginning, with young John and his friends smack in the middle of it.

  Twenty years later, John returns to High Moor. The latest attack involved one of his childhood enemies, but there’s more going on than meets the eye. The consequences of his past actions, the reappearance of an old flame and a dying man who will either save or damn him are the least of his problems. The night of the full moon is approaching and time is running out.

  But how can he hope to stop a werewolf, when every full moon he transforms into a bloodthirsty monster himself?

  "Graeme Reynolds has written a real-deal werewolf story. In these dull days of nice, friendly lycanthropes, it is refreshing to see some brutality and animal instincts in what is a very fine British horror novel. Reynolds draws vivid pictures with words. His descriptions of High Moor the town is excellent, portraying an area in decay, one that suffered during the 1980s, and has yet to recover into the 21st century. The transformation scenes, where humans become wolves, are brilliantly done, and you can feel every crack of bone, every tear of flesh. High Moor is a worthy addition to the werewolf canon. - Thomas Emson, Author of Maneater, Prey, Skarlet, Krimson, Zombie Britannica"