by J. Thorn
“We only got time for a drop,” Fred said.
“I know,” Singleton said. “We’ll have to clear some room for him.”
“There’s always plenty of room in the Brainard crypt. Plenty of room...”
Chapter 35
Fred parked the delivery truck in the back of the observatory. He kept the lights off and killed the engine coming down the driveway, allowing the truck to coast to a stop at the bottom, where the opening in the fence would allow them into Lake View Cemetery. They both sat there, waiting for the other to move first.
“It's not going to be easy for the two of us to get his body down the hill to the crypt.”
“At least its downhill,” Singleton said. “We’ll be able to drag him most of the way.”
Fred looked at his watch.
3:15 a.m.
“The witching hour. Let’s hope there aren’t any teenagers running through the headstones.”
Singleton chuckled but only for a moment.
“It's too cold. And it's a school night. If we can get in and out of here within an hour, I think we’ll be fine, Fred.”
Fred looked into the night and then back over his shoulder into the rear of the delivery truck. He stood and turned sideways to climb back there. Singleton followed.
Fred unfolded the blue tarp and grabbed a roll of duct tape left on the floor. Singleton snatched Johnny by the pant leg and shirt collar, rocking him forward enough for Fred to get one edge of the tarp underneath him. George let the body drop and grabbed the dead man’s clothes from the other side, rolling him over so Johnny was face down in the middle of the tarp. Fred ripped an edge from a roll of tape with a sharp, cracking sound.
Singleton held the edges of the tarp in place while Fred circled it in silver tape. They stood up, trying not to step in the blood on the floor of the truck.
“Open the back,” Singleton said.
Fred went through the cab, out the driver’s side door and walked around back. He yanked the doors open and reached up to take hold of one end of the tarp. He pulled it forward while Singleton pushed from the other side. The body slid over the edge of the truck’s floor and dropped to the frozen ground with a thud. Fred shut the doors and Singleton appeared on his right.
“Let’s go through the trees. I think the tarp will slide better on the leaves.”
“Agreed,” Fred said.
They each grasped one side of the tarp and pulled the unwrapped edge. It crinkled and cracked like a cheap plastic radio as it slid down the hill toward the crypt at the bottom. Neither man spoke as they navigated the cemetery’s trees in the darkness. The cloudy sky hid the moon and stars, reflecting a tinge of orange from the city lights of Cleveland. By the time they reached the bottom, the men had to sit, taking huge gulps of the clear, cold air.
“Is he going to do it?”
Fred looked at Singleton. He was breathing heavy and not ready to answer the doctor’s question.
“Is he going to summon her?” Singleton asked.
“I don’t know,” Fred said. “It's honestly fifty-fifty at this point.”
“The world of probability is always fifty-fifty. Things happen or they don’t.”
Fred smirked at Singleton and waved a hand at him.
“Are you ready yet?”
Singleton stood and brushed the leaves and dirt from his pants. He looked down at the blue tarp, a shocking mass of color in a grayscale universe.
“Will Brainard open?” the doctor asked.
“We’re about to find out,” Fred said.
They grabbed the tarp and pulled the body the last twenty yards until they stood in front of the crypt.
“We coulda just chopped the body up and thrown it in the lake.”
Singleton laughed despite the pit growing in his stomach. He could see the mortar on the stone behind the crypt’s gate beginning to fade.
“It's going to be a whole lot harder getting rid of the truck than it is this body. I know of an abandoned factory on East 55th where we can hide it until we decide what to do.”
“Enough stalling. Let’s get on with this,” Fred said.
A sullen, yellow light broke through the mortar and the brick fell away, leaving a black doorway. When the single candle sparked to life deep inside, both men pulled the tarp through the entrance.
Chapter 36
Two Weeks Later (December 5, 2014)
As November crawled into December, Hank found it more difficult to make it to class. He was only teaching one course at Case as an adjunct professor, yet he couldn’t hold it together. Most days his teaching assistants picked up the slack, but when the end of the semester neared and he hadn’t graded a single paper, Hank knew what the university’s response would be.
When he received the email, Hank packed up the few personal items at his desk and dropped them in the bed of his truck before going to his mandatory meeting with the Dean.
The receptionist gave Hank a smile without making eye contact. She picked up the phone and buzzed the Dean. After a silent pause, she nodded her head and placed the phone back down.
“She’s waiting for you.”
Hank walked past the receptionist. The Dean’s office door opened as Hank approached. She stepped to the side and waved Hank in.
“Thanks for coming,” she said.
Hank nodded. He sat in a chair across from her. The Dean’s office was lined with bookshelves and smelled of dried coffee.
“I know why I’m here,” Hank said.
“I don’t think you do,” the Dean said.
She removed her glasses and let them sit on her bosom where the chain held taut. The Dean pushed a strand of silver hair out of her face and her lips tightened.
“I haven’t been to class.”
She waved a hand at him and shook her head. “Right. Yeah, you’re fired. Of course. That’s not why we’re meeting.”
Hank sat back and waited for her to speak again.
“This is about what’s happening in less than two weeks. You have no idea how far the Order stretches and how many people are invested in it. What you’re considering would be suicide for you and would endanger the rest of us, including your son.”
Hank turned his head sideways, gazing at her with his mouth open. He shook his head as if tossing off the shock to move to outrage.
“You don’t know that,” Hank said. “There isn’t enough data to prove she’ll absolutely turn. You have no right—”
“I have every right, Professor Ferrence. I’ve spent decades working with Singleton to preserve our thin line of existence. I can’t expect you to understand the frailty of life as we do, living so close to the portal.”
“I grew up here.”
“No, you didn’t. You grew up in the area, not in Cleveland Heights. You didn’t grow up in the shadow of Lake View Cemetery, so don’t pretend for a minute you understand any of this.”
Hank sat back and exhaled.
“I just—”
“Shut up. This is serious, not something trivial like getting fired from your adjunct position. This has major implications, cosmic ones.”
“You’ll mail my last paycheck?” Hank asked.
“Did you hear—?”
“Great, you will,” Hank said, taking his turn to interrupt her. “I’ll expect it at the end of the month.”
“Hank, please,” the Dean said. Her tone dropped and was now loaded with a weight of vulnerability. “You have to think about what you’re planning.”
“Thanks for the opportunity, Dean. I appreciate you allowing me to be part of this historic institution.”
Hank turned and left, never looking back. He spent the better part of the day sitting alone at a table in the Winking Lizard, arriving as they opened for lunch and sipping a single beer throughout the afternoon. By the time Lori arrived, the India Pale Ale had gone warm and flat.
“Hey,” Lori said.
“Hi.”
The waitress arrived with two glasses of water, her eyes shift
ing from Lori to Hank.
“I’ll come back in a few minutes,” the waitress said.
Lori smiled and waited for her to walk back to the bar.
“You don’t have to add an exclamation to your text message to get me to show up.”
Hank ignored her comment and slid his glass to the side to eliminate anything between them.
“I need your help.”
“No, Hank. I can’t.”
“But you said you would help me.”
“I know what I said, dammit.”
The waitress looked at their table as Lori slammed her glass down. Hank smiled, trying to diffuse the awkward moment. Lori’s eyes never left his. Her skin was pasty and it appeared as though she had not washed her hair in days. Lori had lost weight in her face, making her look sick rather than fit.
Hank sat across from her with his hair pulled back and a full beard threatening to engulf his mouth. He wore a stained white T-shirt.
“You said you would,” Hank said again, this time barely whispering. He hoped Lori would take his social queue and calm down.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m a fucking mess. Ever since we left that place, I’ve been a wreck. I can’t sleep. I hear conversations, people talking, but I can’t tell what they’re talking about. I’m losing my mind.”
Lori buried her head in her hands and Hank leaned back in the booth. He tightened his ponytail and looked around the restaurant.
“The university let me go.”
“You got fired?” Lori asked, raising her head.
“Yeah, but whatever. Listen. The Dean. She knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Everything. She knows all about the portal and Lake View and the observatory.”
“Why does that surprise you?” Lori asked. “There are a lot of people in this town who know about it. Some of them, like your in-laws, are part of the Order. It ain’t no big secret.”
“I think it is. Everyone talks about this shit in hushed tones, like they’re trying to hide something.”
“You stupid fuck. They’re not talking that way because they’re hiding something. They talk like that because they’re scared of it. We’re living on top of a missile silo and everyone can feel the shit about to go nuclear.”
Hank took a sip of water while Lori sighed.
“My head is killing me. My kids know I’m sick but I can’t explain why. I need to rest. Michelle’s anniversary is in a week and I don’t think I can go through with it. Bringing her back, a summoning. It doesn’t feel right.”
“I need her. Corey needs her. We all need her. We can do this, I know it. We’ll bring her back,” Hank said.
“Please don’t make me. I don’t have the will to walk away, so please don’t make me do this.”
“It’ll be like old times. You and Michelle can hang out when the kids come over to play. We’ll be happy again.”
“I can’t.”
Hank watched as Lori climbed out of the booth and reached for her coat on the hook. She wrapped a scarf around her neck.
“I’ll call you next week and we’ll go over the plan. I’ll need help with the death map,” Hank said.
Lori turned and left. The waitress came over and stood next to the table.
“You all done?”
“Can I ask you something?” Hank asked.
The waitress cracked her gum and rolled her eyes.
“What?”
“If you could save the person you love, the most important person in your life, would you do it?”
“I’m single,” she said. “So, yes. I would save myself.”
She left the check on the table and walked toward the kitchen where the chef rang the bell for an order ready to be served.
Hank leaned back in the booth and thought of Corey. He had to talk to his son. Soon. Corey might have to help with the preparations, get ready to welcome his mother home. They were going to be a family again and whatever it would take to make that happen would be worth it.
Chapter 37
The Next Day (December 6, 2014)
Lori hadn’t planned on suicide a few days before the first anniversary of her best friend’s death. She never thought of killing herself before. She had rough spells and bouts of depression, but death was never on the table.
Lori harbored a mild disdain for those who took their own lives. She thought they were selfish and short-sighted.
The inaudible whispers in her head turned into coherent words after her last visit with Hank, after he tried convincing her—again—that bringing Michelle back was the right thing to do. Lori heard things while she slept and she could feel a cold breath on her neck in dark rooms. It wasn’t until she could understand what the voices said that she knew she’d kill herself.
Summon her.
Those two words, like a breathy whisper from a forbidden lover, started it. Other commands and phrases were spoken, but the one that forced Lori’s hand was a call from the dark to summon her best friend. Whatever powers lay beyond the observatory and the cemetery, whatever cosmic forces were about to rip open their world and flood it with evil, Lori was not interested in joining or helping, which left one option.
She thought of Dom and the kids and it gave her pause. She knew what it would do to the family, yet she understood how filthy their world would become if she remained. Lori knew the dark powers were strong enough to convince her. In a matter of days, she would be twisted by love and loss. And they would be responsible for bringing the wretchedness back, practically welcoming it inside like an old friend.
That left her the option of removing herself from the environment in order to protect her weakness. Otherwise, her family, the town and possibly the entire world would be consumed.
Summon her.
The words came at random times and each one burrowed into her soul, making it porous and weak, allowing all of the emotion to filter through. Lori heard it while driving the kids to school or doing laundry. She was unable to hold the commands off, keep them at an intellectual level.
She decided tonight was her last. She’d tuck her kids into bed, have sex with Dom and wake up tomorrow knowing she’d be dead by twilight.
“BYE,” DOM SAID. HE planted a kiss on Lori’s cheek. “Last night...”
She winked at him and felt her heart cracking inside her chest.
“Maybe we should do that more often,” he said.
Lori looked down and folded the shirt from the clean laundry basket.
“I love you, hon,” she said.
“I love you too, babe.”
She tried not to look at him leaving, tried not to think about what he would find when he came home.
“Let’s go, guys,” Lori said, tossing her words up the steps from the laundry room in the basement toward the kitchen.
Lori’s hands shook and she felt tears welling. She began to think maybe she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She started to rationalize her inaction but she knew helping Hank would cause more harm to her children than her own suicide. They could lose a parent, but they couldn’t afford to lose their soul.
Summon her.
The voice in her head, she knew it would be a relentless demon, badgering her until she had no strength to resist the call.
Lori walked upstairs where her boys, David and Danny, sat at the kitchen table arguing over a box of cereal. She snagged it from their clutches and set it on the counter.
“You’re going to be late.”
“You all right, Mom?” Lori’s oldest son, David asked.
“You crying?” Danny asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just not feeling well.”
David and Danny grabbed their book bags and coats while jostling each other to be first out the door. Lori grabbed her purse more out of habit than necessity. She stepped into the frigid December morning wearing her ski jacket and snow boots. The boys were already in the backseat, waiting.
Lori drove down the same streets she had driven for years, each house like
a living memory from her past coming back to greet her at the end. She remembered kissing Jeffy McAlister in front of 1480 Winston. She drove past Springdale Elementary where she learned how to read and write. She couldn’t look at her sons in the rearview mirror.
She pulled up in front of their school and before they could jump out and race to the front door, she locked the doors and spun around to face them.
“Guys, I want you to know something.”
They stopped talking and fidgeting, sensing the pain in their mother’s voice.
“I love you both more than anything in the world. I would do anything for you. I would die for you.”
“Mom, what are you doing?” David asked.
“I want you to know that everything I do, I do for you two. You’re my world. I love you with all my heart.”
“Whatever—”
“Danny, please,” Lori said, interrupting him while tears streamed down her face. “I want you both to know I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom,” David said.
“I love you, Mom,” Danny said.
“You guys go and have a great day,” Lori said, spinning around in the driver’s seat and hitting the power locks to unlock the door. “I love you,” she said again, unable to look into their faces.
The boys bounded from the car, then turned halfway to the front door and waved at Lori. She had already pulled from the curb and drove away.
She used her left hand to wipe away the tears while using her right to steer. Lori pulled into her driveway, walked around to the back door and into the middle of the kitchen.
Even though the house was empty, it was occupied. The voices came faster now, louder, as if sensing what Lori was about to do. They swirled in the air, swelling and amplifying and bouncing off of the walls.
Summon her. Summon Michelle.
They called Lori’s best friend by name, twisting the knife deeper into her wounded psyche.
