The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville

by Brian L. Blank

  "Angie."

  "Think they'll come after us?" Melissa asked, looking back over her left shoulder. The flame of the candle flickered, on the verge of blowing itself out, as we trotted along.

  "I'm sure of it," I said, slowing down to a fast walk. Somewhere along the way I had lost my pocket flashlight, and that candle in her hand was our only source of illumination. Lose it, and we lose our way. Plus, I wasn't anywhere near the shape needed to run the entire distance. Melissa let loose with a pleasurable sigh as she slowed to my new pace, the candle flame becoming more stable. "Most likely they'll wait for a few more minutes." At least, I hoped. Now that we were only walking, they could catch up to us rather easily. "As soon as it crosses one of their pitiful minds that they may end up locked down here forever, they'll come after us in force. Some of them will even risk their own existence to prevent us from escaping."

  The girl began to drift off to sleep in my arms now that she wasn't being jerked around.

  "How is she?" Melissa asked, at length.

  I smiled. "Warm." And I was emphatically glad about that. If she were one of them, I knew I would have had to terminate her--an act that I would never have lived down.

  Melissa chuckled. "You sure picked the perfect day to rescue us."

  "Yes," I replied, "tonight was in your honor."

  "Reed's idea of a marriage ceremony was a bit unorthodox, wasn't it? I mean, first killing me, then bringing me back to life, and the highlight of watching as they replace my blood with that of this four-year-old innocent baby." She stopped suddenly and grabbed my arm. "Maybe if we destroy that mirror, we can lock them in these tunnels for eternity."

  I motioned ahead for us to continue our progress. No telling how much time we had left before the full-scale pursuit began. "Only problem is how," I replied.

  "Sly said to burn the house to the ground." Her voice trailed off at the end of that sentence, and she fell silent.

  Holding the gun out in front of me for her to see, I asked, "How did you get it?"

  She laughed uncomfortably and shook her head. "I almost didn't after you tried to take it from Sly for yourself." She smiled up at me. "You fool. Reed knew Sly had that gun. He thought Sly was converted to his side. I had to watch Reed until he set it down right before the festivities began; then sneak it out from under the eyes of his guards. That, by the way, wasn't all that easy."

  "I bet not," I said. “But that wasn’t Sly’s gun. He had a .22. Where did he get the .357?”

  “Reed didn’t believe Sly’s gun was powerful enough to handle you. He wanted something bigger in case things got out of hand.”

  We both fell silent. I woke Angie, as my arm was weak to begin with, and made her walk between us.

  Soon faint, but excited voices reached us from behind. They sounded distant yet, but I couldn't be sure of the echo effect the tunnels had down here. Melissa looked at me with nervous eyes, and we picked up our pace.

  Ahead, some lights became visible, and we approached the notorious "House of God." The same Beatle's song danced along the walls of the corridor, reaching us in a jerky, but recognizable beat. A few minutes later I heard their laughter mixed in with the music. We slowed our jog when we hit the start of the fluorescent lights overhead, and walked forward into the room with the record player—and with the chart showing the way to see "God."

  "What now?" Melissa asked, as the dancers became visible through the glass wall.

  "Nothing to worry about," I replied. "I know these people." I shoved the gun into the front of my pants and hid the remaining portion by covering it with my shirt. "Maybe they'll even help us out."

  "But who are they?"

  I shrugged. "Actually, I was hoping you'd be able to answer that one."

  Angie’s eyes widened as she saw Eddie and his gang dancing among the ropes in the next room. She obviously didn't know if they were on her side or not. And frankly, after their little fiasco with me earlier, I wasn't too sure myself.

  The record hissed to a stop, and Eddie's girl jaunted into the hallway to restart it. When she spotted us out of the corner of her eye, she hesitated a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile.

  "Hi," she said. "You decided to come back. And with friends this time." She waved to Angie. "Sorry about disappearing on you like that, but Eddie, as usual got us into trouble once again."

  "We're just passing through," Melissa said.

  "Hey, everybody," Eddie's girl yelled to the group in the other room. "Look who's back."

  Eddie jumped down from a rope when he recognized me, and sauntered up to us, smiling as friendly as ever. "Hey, buddy." He took my hand and shook it. "What’s happening?"

  The voices from down the tunnel reached us again, much closer than before. "Actually, Eddie," I said, looking back over my shoulder. "We're in a bit of a bind." I turned back around to face him. "Do you think you could help us?"

  Eddie's face wrinkled as he heard the voices from down the tunnel. Then he nodded. "I think I know your problem," he replied, breaking out into another grin. "And since you were kind enough to open the door for us, the least I can do is return the favor."

  "There's a hostile group of assholes chasing us," I said. "They intend to do us most regrettable harm. If you could maybe hold them up for--"

  Eddie waved me off. "Say no more," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know exactly of what you speak."

  A shout from down the tunnel sounded awfully close.

  "You'd better be on your way now," Eddie said, leading us into the next room. "We can surely prevent them from coming through this particular way." He frowned slightly. "But I'm afraid they'll eventually only go around us, using an alternate route. So protect your lady and little girl here and get going."

  Eddie's girl planted a kiss on my unshaven cheek. "Good luck," she said. "And take care."

  I opened the glass door leading to the main tunnel. "Thanks," I replied, picking Angie up in my arms.

  As the door closed behind us, Eddie called his troops around him, and hopefully came up with a plan in our favor. Soon, shouting reached us from behind, and it sounded as if our pursuers were a little bit more than merely upset. Eddie had come through.

  "Who were those people?" Melissa asked as we jogged along. Her candle flickered to the point of going out, burning down to a nub her fingers could barely hold on to.

  "I don't know," I replied. "But they aren't from the outside world, that's for sure. They are right where they want to be."

  Upon reaching the main tunnel out, we quit the jogging and slowed down to a rapid walk. Wax dripping down the side of the candle burned Melissa's fingers, and she dropped it to the floor of the tunnel. Instantly, our surroundings were extinguished and blackness replaced what little we had been able to see.

  Angie whined and shoved her face deeper into my chest. As she quieted only seconds later, the three of us moved on in silence. Speaking seemed, somehow, too much of a risk: we would be heard by the evil around us--though nothing was actually there.

  My own thoughts mutinied against the silence, echoing recent happenings between the walls of my skull. So much had occurred, and I had too little time to digest it all. My best friend lay dead behind me, the fatal blow delivered by my own hand. Sly's body sprawled on the floor next to his, never to crack a sarcastic remark in rebuttal again. Melissa was at my side, true, but how many lives paid for the obsession of one man wanting to have everything? And I wasn't only talking about Reed. Exactly who was his “master”?

  "I see light ahead," Melissa commented several minutes later. "Artificial, or natural, do you think?"

  Instinctively, I looked to my left wrist to see the time, but my watch had been ripped off my arm sometime back at the cross. "That has to be daylight," I replied, somewhat relieved. Wickerman's bedroom couldn't be far away now.

  I wanted to set Angie down and relax my tired arms, but she had fallen asleep and, for the first time since we met, her breathing felt at peace. Waking her would have been a
crime, after all she had endured recently. I left her alone.

  No approaching footfalls could be heard behind us, but when I turned to look I quickly jerked my head back to facing forward. The blackness only brought images of desperate men chasing us, only wishing to zap out our existence. If anyone was there, hiding within his evil element, I didn't want to know. So, I focused ahead, until the rectangle of Wickerman's Mirror became apparent.

  Melissa started to run when she saw it.

  "Hold up," I said. "We'd better make sure we weren't beaten to the punch, and someone is already there, waiting patiently for us to stumble into his clutches."

  She slowed, but I could see her impatience. To her, the nightmare would end when she crossed the threshold back into the real world. I, however, knew of one more door to close.

  Aware that we couldn't be seen through the mirror from the other side, I stepped up to it with confidence, passing the sleeping Angie over to Melissa.

  "Well?" Melissa asked, as I peered as far around the edge as I could without actually sticking my head into the room. She rocked Angie in her arms impatiently.

  The room was empty, save for two sets of footprints on a dusty floor leading to my own feet. "All clear," I replied. I turned around to face her. "But keep on your toes and expect the unexpected."

  She blew a strand of hair from her vision.

  "You go on ahead," I said. "I want to wait here for a couple of minutes to make sure our friends aren't right behind us."

  "But--"

  "Sly's car is down the road at the Country Bar and Grill. The keys are under the seat. Run and drive the car back here and pull into the driveway. If I'm not outside five minutes after you get back, I want you to take the little girl and get the hell out of here."

  "No, I--"

  "For her sake, then." I nodded to the sleeping girl in her arms.

  Melissa shook her head in mock anger. "You'll be out," she said, confidently. After leaning forward and kissing me firmly on the mouth, she stepped through the mirror and into the real world. She stopped half way to the door out of the room, turned to me, and wriggled her fingers, waving. She then bolted forward into the hallway, and out of my sight.

  I moved to the right of the opening, so I wouldn't be so vulnerable a target to anyone who might be approaching from the depth of the tunnel behind me, and stood quietly facing that direction. "Don't come," I whispered to myself, feeling the silence begin to overwhelm me. A slow, methodical drip echoed from somewhere down the tunnel in reply.

  Time stood still, and I couldn't be sure if my five-minute wait here was up or not, but enough was enough, and I jumped over the bottom edge of the mirror and into the rear bedroom of Wickerman's. My heartbeat was, surprisingly, almost normal--quite a difference from when I stood here just hours ago. A minute later I was waiting impatiently outside at the end of the driveway for Melissa to show with the car--and the world-saving can of gasoline on the floor in the back. That was, if she got here in time.

  When Sly's rented Buick appeared over the top of the nearest hill, I could have cried with joy. "Hurry, hurry," I said as she turned on the blinker before the driveway. No telling how much time I had before our pursuers arrived from the "alternate route" Eddie had warned us about.

  As she skidded to a stop next to me, I stuck my head in the passenger window. Angie sat there, yawning, but breaking into a smile when she recognized me.

  "See Mamma?" she asked.

  "Soon, honey," I replied, unlocking the back door. "Melissa, push in the cigarette lighter." I reached down and pulled out the gas can. "Hand me some of that scrap paper lying on the floor."

  The lighter popped out, and she handed me both. Once I had paper folded into a funnel and its edge burning on its own, I handed the lighter back to Melissa. "Keep it hot," I told her, "in case I need to come back." I turned to run to the foot of the house, but stopped. "And keep your eyes pealed on the windows and exits," I added. If anyone comes out of that house other than me, I want you to drive your ass out of here as fast as you can. Understand?"

  "You'll be back," she said, but nodded in reply anyway.

  I ran toward the house.

  "Be careful," Angie called after me.

  Taking steps three at a time, I soon found myself once again staring at my ghastly reflection in the mirror, while the paper funnel burned half way down in my right hand. "No time to waste, Stephen," I said aloud, setting the gas can at my feet and unscrewing the cap. Before pouring the gas, without giving time to talk myself out of it, I stuck my head through the mirror to check if anyone was getting close. Darkness and silence stared back at me; if they were down there somewhere, I wouldn't have seen them anyway.

  I rapidly began to soak the area around the mirror with gas, slopping some on the wall, enveloping it, and tossed the burning paper on the floor. A fire exploded on impact, swallowing the mirror within its grasp. I could only hope that an inferno would destroy it, imprisoning the malevolent world beyond.

  Pulling the gun out of the front of my pants, I waited at the door of the room in case anyone charged through the fire before it could complete its task. When the entire wall was engulfed, I took a deep breath, muttered a brief prayer, and bolted back down the stairs and out the front door. Opening the passenger door of the car, I scooted Angie over, and slid in.

  "Park on the road in front of the house," I told Melissa, not taking my eyes from the upstairs window. "We're going to have to sit here and watch patiently until Wickerman's is a pile of smoldering ash. We can't allow anyone to exit that house alive."

  Melissa only nodded in reply, and backed out of the driveway, stopping on the other side of the county trunk, opposite the house. Angie crawled onto to my lap and climbed up my chest until she was eye level with me. "See Mamma soon?" she asked, her big brown eyes boring into mine.

  "Soon," I replied, tapping the butt of the pistol on the outside of the car through the open window. "But first we're going to watch this fire, OK?"

  She nodded, turned around in my lap, and watched the burning house beside us.

  Flames shot out of the bedroom window, licking eagerly at the overhanging roof above. I was just about to comment to Melissa that I thought we would be here quite some time, when a roaring whooshing sound arose from within the house and pierced the early morning country silence, as though an abrupt windstorm was taking place inside. A loud cracking of wood soon joined the roar, and a giant spider web of cracks inched across the outside of the house. The visible outside walls then slowly bowed inward, creaking and groaning, sounding like a suspension bridge on the verge of breaking apart during a strong wind. The wood cracked and stretched as far as it could, until the entire house exploded, or rather imploded, in a sudden torrent of flying splinters of wood and roof. Every single piece flew inward, in what I expected was a direct line to the mirror in that far upstairs bedroom. A whirlwind sucked the torn-apart house into the shape of a small tornado, the point leading right into the mirror itself, which hung in the air as though suspended by strings from the cumulus clouds above. A myriad of small explosions rattled the air around as each board entered into the other side of the world. The tornado methodically, but quickly, lessened in size, until finally the last piece of the house exploded into nothingness. The mirror floated alone now, though entirely surrounded by flames from the fire I had set. Other than a lingering smoke in the air, no proof that Wickerman's house ever existed was visible. Only the rectangular shape of the basement at ground level remained.

  The roar of the sucking windstorm continued, seemingly picking up in intensity, engulfing the smoke around the mirror. Seconds after the last board disappeared, the bellowing turned into a piercing whistle, sharp enough to make us cover our ears and squint. Then, without warning, the mirror imploded instantly within itself, disappearing completely. The piercing roar died abruptly, and we all three stared at the spot where the mirror last was visible. Only whiffs of smoke drifted away in the early morning breeze.

  I turned to Mel
issa, who broke out into a wide grin. "Let's go," I said, nodding in agreement. The nightmare had just ended before our eyes. "Let's get this little girl back home to her mother, where she belongs."

  Melissa placed a hand on her forehead, leaned backed against the seat, and sighed. "Is it really over?"

  "Yes."

  She sat upright, turning to face me. "I mean, is it really over?"

  I smiled. "It's really over." Somewhere, smoldering there in the depths of my mind, a doubt started to rise. Could I ever be thoroughly and resolvedly positive? Was there another way besides Wickerman's mirror, or was one of them left, here on the outside, with the ability to develop Reed's powers? What about-- "Enough," I said, shaking my head. "Let's get the hell out of here?"

  Melissa smiled, and the expression on her face told of a great weight having just been lifted off her shoulders. "Sure thing," she said, sticking the gearshift into drive. "Whatever you say."

  I didn't bother giving Wickerman's another glance.

  The little girl's complete name was Angie Turner, and now that I had my mind clear enough to take a good look at her, she seemed somehow familiar--a distant face from my past. When she told Melissa her address, whipping off the words slowly and deliberately (as if she had been forced to rehearse them more than a few times), I realized why: her street address was the same as mine when I lived here a half a lifetime ago. She was that same little girl I saw playing in the front yard when I walked past my old home my first day back in Dodsville.

  As we entered the city limits and Melissa pulled the car to a stop minutes later in front of the Turner's, I noticed the drape of the picture window part slightly in the middle. I slid out of the car, with the bouncing Angie still secured in my arms, and started up the walk to their front door. The drapes shut abruptly, and almost immediately after, the front door opened and Angie's mother took one step onto the porch and stopped. She stood there in her ragged bathrobe, staring wide-eyed at the girl in my arms for a few seconds, as to make sure her mind hadn't just conjured up what she so desperately wanted to see, then she sprang down the steps like someone had just kicked her forward from behind.