A Haunting In Wisconsin

by Michael Richan

“Come on,” Daniel said, and they turned to leave.

  ●

  An hour later, they were crawling back through the window with a bag of supplies. Eliza also brought the crowbar.

  They worked their way downstairs. Eliza climbed onto the raised surface and walked up to the body; things looked the same. She slipped the blanket the rest of the way off Horace, exposing him completely. She blushed a little when she saw his privates, covered by the netting but amply visible.

  Daniel knelt on the floor by the raised cement surface, digging through the bag of supplies.

  “Promise me you know what you’re doing with that,” she said.

  “I do,” he replied, handing her a small can. “But just to be sure, squirt that on him first.”

  She took the can. It was lighter fluid.

  She uncapped the can and walked next to Horace. She started at his legs, squirting the toxic chemical on the body. The netting melted in response, exposing the body underneath. “It’s reacting to this lighter fluid,” she said.

  Daniel stopped digging through the bag and looked at the man’s feet. The netting was dissolving; the man’s ankles were completely exposed, and the netting was loosening around his calves and thighs.

  “I didn’t realize it would do that,” he said, returning to the bag. “Do you think it’s releasing him?”

  “I think you’d better get the flamethrower ready,” she said. “Now.”

  Daniel pulled a large aerosol can from the bag and searched for the lighter. “Can he…”

  He wasn’t able to finish before Eliza screamed. The man’s arm had broken free, and his hand was wrapped around her wrist, pulling her down.

  “Eliza!” Daniel shouted, dropping the can and racing to her side. He joined her in grabbing at the hand, trying to help her pry it off, but it was firm and unyielding.

  “The flamethrower!” Eliza said. “Burn it, now!”

  Daniel left her and returned to the bag, rummaging through it furiously, searching for the lighter. “It’s in here, somewhere!” he shouted, lifting the bag and shaking it. There was a clink on the floor as the plastic lighter fell and hit the cement.

  “Hurry!” Eliza said. “He’s hurting me!” She tugged at the arm, but its grip was firm, pressing deeply into the skin at her wrist. She felt the tickle of hundreds of tiny legs, as the creatures in the man’s skin transferred to her hand and tried to crawl up her arm. She wanted to scream; instead, she brushed at them, knocking them back onto Horace.

  Daniel fumbled with the aerosol, struggling to get the cap off the top; its child-proof cap had to be squeezed in just the right place, and he frantically tried to find the markings, pulling and tugging on it until it flew off, landing several feet away.

  He positioned the aerosol at Horace and flicked the lighter, trying to get it to start. Sparks flew, but the lighter didn’t take. He shook it and tried again.

  Horace’s legs began to move, stretching back and forth as though they were testing their ability to move. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t; his other arm, grasping the kaleidoscope which was inserted into the recess, wouldn’t release its grip.

  “Now, Daniel!” Eliza cried, still prying at Horace’s hand. She saw the crowbar on the cement a few feet away, and leaned to reach for it.

  Daniel popped the lighter to life, but when he pressed down on the aerosol’s nozzle, nothing came out. He shook the can to build up pressure, and tried again; it didn’t depress.

  “Fuck, it’s not aligned,” he said, detecting a faint red dot on the rim of the nozzle. He grabbed it and turned it so that the nozzle was pointed in the same direction as the dot, and pressed down. Liquid shot from the can, smelling like hairspray.

  He lit the lighter once again, and tried them both in harmony. A blaze of fire shot from him, and he turned the flame, pointing it at Horace’s feet.

  The lighter fuel ignited, and the man’s legs burst into flame.

  Eliza felt the grip on her arm loosen, and she tried to pry it off, but the grip recovered and tightened before she could get free. Daniel moved to shoot another blast of flame, hitting Horace’s lower body, and coming dangerously close to her. He couldn’t aim any higher without risking Eliza’s safety.

  She leaned as far as she could, pulling Horace slightly with her, her fingers grasping for the crowbar. Smoke was beginning to fill the room, and with no way for it to escape, breathable air was diminishing. She felt the tips of her fingers reach the metal of the crowbar and wrap around it; with one quick move she brought it around her and down hard upon the man’s arm, which immediately surrendered its grip.

  Eliza stepped away and Daniel moved closer, sending a huge ball of fire toward Horace’s torso, enveloping the man entirely in flame. They watched for a second as he twisted inside the inferno. Smoke filled the room, and Eliza pulled at Daniel, worried they might not make it to fresh air. Daniel shot a final blast of fire at Horace and then dropped his tools; they stumbled back and toward the wooden stairs, their flashlight abandoned next to the body. By the time they reached the steps, a thick black cloud was filling their lungs. Eliza held her breath as they climbed, not wanting to inhale the foul fumes.

  Emerging out of the cellar door, Eliza turned to shut it behind them, trapping most of the smoke below. She allowed herself to take a breath, and immediately began to cough. Daniel pulled her away from the door, and they stumbled into another room, hacking, trying to inhale the stale air of the house and gain control over their rebelling lungs.

  Once she was able to speak, Eliza said, “Do we need to get out of here? Is this place going to burn?”

  “That room?” Daniel said. “No way. Metal and cement, and nothing to burn other than Horace. The fire will die out as the air goes.”

  “Then we wait,” Eliza said.

  “Yes,” Daniel replied. “I don’t think it’ll take long.”

  Daniel sat on the ground in the dark room, his back against a wall. Eliza walked to him, leaned against the wall, and slowly slid down. When she hit the ground, she reached out and took Daniel’s hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “No problem,” he replied.

  They waited.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “That’s it?” Milton asked, looking at the small bag on the kitchen table.

  “Yes,” Eliza replied.

  “That’s not the bag it was in when we dug it up,” Milton said.

  “No,” Daniel replied. “I made this one. The original disappeared with Robert.”

  “The bag keeps it secret,” Eliza added. “As long as it stays in there, I don’t think we have to worry about being tracked down.”

  “Tracked down by who?” Milton asked. “The characters who killed Granger?”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied.

  They stared at it.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Milton finally asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Eliza replied. “I knew I couldn’t leave it there, with him. It would have felt like letting him win.”

  “Even with him burned to a crisp?” Milton asked.

  “Yes,” she replied. “He wanted it; even as he died he wouldn’t let go of it. I had to pry it from his fingers.”

  “But now you have it,” Milton said, looking at the bag.

  “Yes,” Eliza replied. “Maybe I should bury it somewhere.” Milton suddenly looked alarmed. “Not here, Milton. Somewhere it can’t cause trouble.”

  “It must be very important, all the effort he went to to get it back,” Milton replied.

  “Seems like it,” Daniel said. “We still don’t know exactly what it does, but we know we kept him from using it.”

  “Something evil,” Eliza said. “That’s what we were told. It would have been something evil, had we not stopped it.”

  “Well, as far as I’m concerned, you won,” Milton said. “Look at things now; we’re nearly full. You saved me from financial ruin, and you fulfilled Martha’s goal by thwarting his plans. You liberated Wanda. I say you
’ve done a pretty good job.”

  “Thanks, Milton,” she replied. She appreciated that he didn’t mention the loss of Granger and Robert, but she knew they were all thinking it.

  “You can always just keep it,” Daniel said. “Tuck it away, start a collection. I’ve got several items stored that I only half understand. You may find some use for it down the road. It might be really valuable. Probably is, given what Horace was willing to do for it.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that,” Eliza replied. “As long as you’re sure it’s safe.” She thought of Granger.

  “I’ll warrant my bag is better than the one it came with,” Daniel said with confidence. “No one will detect it through that!”

  She thought of Aceveda’s 99.9 percent rule. Maybe it’s something Aceveda will want to store in the sensitive room, she thought. No, that won’t work…she’ll just be pissed off by it. She said to steer clear of this thing. I’m better off just hiding it away somewhere.

  “What now?” Milton asked.

  “Well, I’ve got two more days off,” Eliza replied. “I was thinking maybe…” She paused.

  “Yes?” Milton asked.

  “Maybe I’d just relax. You know, the plan when I first came here. You don’t have any ghosts left for me to deal with, do you, Milton? Can I have a couple of carefree days, do what I want, or maybe just have a drink and not do anything for a while?”

  Milton got up and walked to the refrigerator. He returned with a fat bottle. “I normally save these for couples who are celebrating an anniversary. Here, have it and enjoy.”

  Eliza took the bottle and examined it. Champagne — and it looked fancy. “Any reason not to open it now?” she asked.

  Milton shrugged. “Not that I can see.” He went for glasses while she removed the top and popped it open. She poured it for each of them, and Daniel offered a toast.

  “To relaxing for a while,” he said.

  “Hear, hear!” Milton replied.

  Eliza tapped the edge of her glass against Daniel’s and then Milton’s, then raised it to her lips.

  ●

  Three days later, she stopped as she unpacked her suitcase and looked into the mirror that hung from her closet door.

  I guess I look more relaxed, she thought. Two days without any ghosts. Works wonders on your stress levels.

  Stress — it made her think of Don. She and Daniel had visited him at his home, sharing with him the final details of the story. He was recovering from his stroke nicely; it was encouraging to see him almost fully functional. There was a slight sag to the left side of his lips when he spoke, but he said the doctors felt that might go away with time. He’d been quite excited by the events with Martha, and saddened by the news of Granger.

  She pulled out the remaining clothes and tossed them into the laundry hamper, revealing the last item resting in the bottom of her suitcase…Daniel’s newly fashioned bag, and the lump inside: the kaleidoscope. She picked it up and held it in front of the mirror.

  Should I keep this thing? she wondered. I could bury it somewhere outside. She thought of Sydney, buried in an unmarked spot in a wooded area of their homestead. No, can’t keep burying things I want to avoid. Daniel said it’s protected in this bag, that it’s more insulated than the one Horace used. If that’s the case, it can’t be detected. Granger removed it from the bag to test it; that must have been how Horace zeroed in on him. With Horace gone, there’s no one searching for it.

  She walked to the cedar chest at the foot of her bed and opened it; inside was the old legend shelf Aceveda had given to her to experiment with; it was humming along, its lines glowing dimly. She hoped it was still protecting the house and her property. She intended to set one up for Granger and Robert months back; they had made arrangements for a special model that Granger wanted, but it was still on order. Maybe if it had been set up, Granger would have been shielded from Horace, and be alive today.

  She placed the bag next to the legend shelf and looked at the two items, side by side. Daniel said he has a collection of things. I guess I’m starting one. The more she looked at the two items, the more she felt a sense of calm, and she interpreted that to mean there was no threat from keeping the bag.

  It’s kind of like a trophy, she thought. I don’t like that. I don’t want a trophy. Horace Lyons’ words reentered her mind: you don’t understand loss.

  I lost Robert and Granger, she thought. I lost them in a way that tells me I’ve lost some naiveté, too. This item will always remind me of them. So, not a trophy. More like a memento.

  I lost them, but I gained Milton, she thought as she closed the lid of the chest. And Daniel.

  Perhaps Martha and I didn’t lose as much as Horace Lyons hoped.

  She heard the front door open downstairs; David was getting home from school. She left her room, heading down to find something they could share for dinner.

  ###

  Michael Richan lives in Seattle, Washington.

  The adventure continues!

  Receive a free River novella!

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  ●

  The Dark River: dare to enter the place so many gifteds will not!

  Free sample chapters included at the end of this book!

  ●

  Also by Michael Richan

  The Haunting of Pitmon House

  The Haunting of Waverly Hall

  The School of Revenge

  The Dark River series:

  A

  The Blood Gardener

  The River series:

  The Bank of the River

  Residual

  A Haunting in Oregon

  Ghosts of Our Fathers

  Eximere

  The Suicide Forest

  Devil’s Throat

  The Diablo Horror

  The Haunting at Grays Harbor

  It Walks At Night

  The Cycle of the Shen

  A Christmas Haunting at Point No Point

  The Port of Missing Souls

  The Downwinders series:

  Blood Oath, Blood River

  The Impossible Coin

  The Graves of Plague Canyon

  The Blackham Mansion Haunting

  The Massacre Mechanism

  The Nightmares of Quiet Grove

  All series are part of The River Universe, and there is crossover of some characters and plots. For a suggested reading order, see the Author’s Website.

  ●

  Patron Thank You!

  Michael would like to thank his Patrons,

  Carol Tilson

  Edric Vanderstorm

  How to become a Patron and receive titles before they’re released on Amazon!

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  Complimentary sample from The Dark River: A

  Chapter One

  Derick sat back in his chair and looked at the woman. Something’s not quite right, he thought. She looked like a mother and sounded like a mother, but there was something distinctly un-motherly about her, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “How long ago did she go in?” Derick asked.

  “Yesterday,” the woman replied. “I contacted you immediately. You came highly recommended as someone who could get her out. They say you have ways to make it happen.”

  Derick wiped his hand over his face. This would be the third extraction this year. He was getting tired of it, just as he seemed to be getting tired of everything in his life, and his first impulse was to decline the offer. Still, he had debts — serious debts. And she’d mentioned something on the phone about a large payment.

  “Exactly how much do you know about the Dark River?” he asked the woman.

  “Enough to know I’ve got to get my Anna out of there,” the woman replied. “That’s the most important thing. I always told her to stay away from it. Nothing good ever came from there. But, you know kids — they do what they want, and after a certain age yo
u can’t control them. I can’t just abandon her, even though she’s gone there against everything I ever taught her. I have to try and get her back.”

  “Have you ever been to the Dark River?” he asked.

  “Me?” she replied, shocked, raising a hand to her cleavage. “No, never. Of course not. The place is for sickos, addicts, and degenerates. When I discovered that she’d gone in, I was horrified. I’ll do anything to get my baby girl out.”

  Maybe she’s sincere, Derick thought. She’s not the first mother who tried to save her daughter from the Dark River.

  “If you’ve never been there, you’re operating off what, rumors?” he asked. “Things your parents told you?”

  “I know a few things,” she replied.

  “Like what?”

  “Like, if I don’t get her out, she’ll become trapped there, addicted to the place. Then I’d lose her forever.”

  “Why did she go there?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. Why do any of them go there?”

  “Some go there for the pleasure,” he replied. “Some to hide, to get away from something here in the real world. Some go there to leech off the misery of others. Some just hate this life and want another. Which is your daughter?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t. She was always a normal child, very conservative with the gift. I never had any trouble with her. When I learned she’d gone to the Dark River, well, I was beside myself. I can hardly believe it now. So, honestly, I don’t know why she went. I only know I have to get her back. She means everything to me!”

  Again, something’s not right, he thought. She was saying all the right words, but the inflection seemed a little forced, as though she was trying too hard.

  “It’s not an easy thing to do,” he said. “I have to limit my time there, or risk infection myself. And forcing her to come back against her will is even tougher.”

  “I’ll pay you,” the woman offered. “Isn’t fifty thousand the going rate?”

  How does she know the going rate? he wondered, then quickly turned his mind to the number of debts he could erase with 50k. It’d take care of a sizeable chunk. Nowhere near all of them.