314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy)

by A. R. Wise

  Oliver was scared that Vess was partially fused to the floor, so he didn’t grasp the old man as he got on his knees to inspect him. He kept saying the man’s name and asking if he was all right.

  Finally, Vess opened his eyes and tried to speak, but he sputtered and coughed instead.

  Oliver watched as Vess moved, and felt confident that the old man wasn’t stuck to the floor. He leaned over him and started to help Vess sit up, but the injured man grabbed Oliver’s wet shirt, causing water to roll down his shaking arms and drip from his elbows. He coughed again, but was then able to force out his question.

  “Did it work?”

  Branson

  March 13th, 2012

  Shortly after 5:30 AM

  Jim Broadbent whistled as he walked across the lobby of the hotel to the small dining area where guests would soon begin staggering into, looking for the complimentary breakfast that came with their room. He twirled his keys around his finger as he walked, and the beaded bracelet that the black woman whose car had broken down had given him, spun around his wrist. He got to the counter where the breakfast items would be displayed, and knelt to unlock the cabinet below. There were already boxes of cereal in a plastic case on top of the counter, but he pulled out the Styrofoam bowls and plastic silverware that was locked below.

  Jim had worked the midnight shift at the hotel for long enough to be used to this routine. Setting up the breakfast buffet wasn’t difficult, but if he didn’t have everything ready by 6:00, there would undoubtedly be an early-riser groaning in frustration. However, Jim knew what the most important part of the process was, and that’s why he always came to the cabinet first: coffee. He took out the plastic jug of coffee grinds and hoisted it to the counter before pulling down the old carafes.

  The automatic doors at the entrance hissed open almost perfectly on schedule. Jim only turned as a courtesy, because he knew exactly who had arrived.

  Elvis Jaurez came in with blustered cheeks and his normal wide smile. He didn’t speak much English, but he was generous with his nods and grins. He was the newspaper delivery man, and he had two stacks of bound papers in his arms.

  “Morning, Mr. Jim,” said Elvis as he smiled.

  “Morning Elvis.”

  The short, stocky man waddled over to the wire basket next to the breakfast counter and dropped his load of papers down into it. Then he pulled a box cutter from his jacket’s front pocket and swiftly cut the plastic tie on the top stack. He whipped the plastic out, and then knelt to get the second. After finishing, he nodded to Jim and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Jim.”

  “Bye, Elvis.” Jim smiled back at the man and watched him leave. The automatic door hissed closed, and Jim glanced up at the camera above. He looked for the red light that would indicate it was recording and saw that it was off, just as he wanted it to be. Jim had spent the last half-hour erasing the security footage of the previous night, and had made sure to turn off the cameras for the time being.

  He left the coffee behind and went over to the front desk. Kyle should’ve come up already to help with setting up breakfast, but if he had it would’ve been the first time in months that he’d done it. Despite having the midnight shift for almost a year longer than Jim, Kyle still hadn’t gotten used to the odd hours. Jim knew that Kyle would be asleep in the break room, so he called the phone that was in the room with him, rudely waking Kyle from his nap.

  “Yeah,” said Kyle’s weary voice when he answered.

  “Get up. I need you to get the sausages from the fridge and bring them up to the front.”

  “Yeah, okay,” said Kyle, but his yawn didn’t inspire confidence in Jim.

  “Do it, Kyle. Your review is coming up.”

  “Yeah, yeah, bro. Chill.” With that, Kyle hung up and Jim walked out from behind the front desk and back into the hallway. He looked in the direction of the break room, which was about fifty feet away, and waited until he saw Kyle emerge. The irresponsible employee flipped Jim off, to which Jim smiled and waved.

  Next, Jim went to the door of the ladies room. He knocked gently as a courtesy, but was fairly certain it wasn’t occupied. He looked back down the hall at Kyle and watched as he walked over to the storage room to retrieve the breakfast sausages from the freezer. All of the hot components of the complimentary breakfast were frozen. Even the biscuits that were for the biscuits and gravy came frozen in a package of six that were simply tossed into a microwave for three minutes and then transferred over to the hot plate that was warmed by a sterno placed below it. Once Kyle was out of sight, Jim opened the door to the ladies room.

  Without any hesitation, he went to the paper towel dispenser and unlatched it. A pistol was resting on top of the folded brown paper, and he took it out so that he could do as he’d been told.

  Jim walked back out of the bathroom and saw that Kyle had already brought out the plastic bag of sausages and was transferring a batch into the microwave. He looked tired, as always, and even though he glanced in Jim’s direction, he didn’t see the pistol in his hand.

  Jim Broadbent raised the gun, and without a moment’s thought, he pulled the trigger. Kyle’s head burst open like a ripe watermelon dropped on a sharp rock. Blood and brains splattered the plastic case where the miniature cereal boxes were kept, and Jim saw a chunk of hairy scalp hanging from the edge of a Styrofoam bowl.

  Jim vomited into his hand and then flung the liquid off to the side as he ran out of the hotel. He still had to kill someone else before he killed himself. There was just one person left that had been present when Michael Harper arrived. Tonight, they all had to die.

  He could feel the gift that the black stranger had given him rattling against his wrist as he ran to the room where Charles Dunbar was staying. He had to hurry. The other guests would certainly discover Kyle soon, and the police station was only five blocks away.

  The hotel had a central tower where the standard rooms were located, but also had suites that ringed the outdoor pool. These rooms were larger than the others, and featured a small kitchen. Mr. Dunbar had been given one of the suites because none of the other rooms were available when he called.

  It was a cool March night, and Jim’s breath turned to mist as he jogged along the sidewalk that led to the suites. He smelled gasoline before he even turned the corner.

  There was a man wearing only a t-shirt and boxer shorts walking ahead, and he was carrying something, but Jim couldn’t see what it was from his vantage. Jim thought this was the man he was looking for, but wasn’t certain. He hid the gun behind his back before asking, “Mr. Dunbar?”

  Charles turned and Jim saw that the guest was carrying one of the hotel’s ice buckets in his arms. Liquid sloshed inside of the bucket as Charles turned in response to his name being called.

  Jim raised the gun.

  “Wait, I’m with Rosemary,” said Charles. “She needs us to finish one other thing before we die.”

  Jim was confused, but the man’s use of the name ‘Rosemary’ gave him pause. “I’m supposed to kill you.”

  “I know,” said Charles. “She gave me a gift too.” He raised his head, straining his neck so that Jim would see the necklace he was wearing. “She needs me to burn down the evidence in Michael’s room. When she gave you your bracelet, she didn’t know she’d need to do that. It took me longer than I expected to syphon the gas out of my truck.”

  Jim nodded and said, “Okay, we have to hurry. The cops will be here soon.” Jim used the pistol to point at the room where Michael Harper had been staying. Charles went first, and Jim followed behind.

  When they got in the room, Jim understood why it had to be burned. There was blood everywhere. “What happened?” asked Jim.

  “I stabbed her,” said Charles as he began dumping gas onto the bed. The room already stank from the fluid that had been spread on the carpet, and Jim guessed that this was Charles’ second trip back to the room with a bucket of gasoline.

  “Why’d you stab her?” asked Jim, concerned that he was being t
ricked. He kept the gun at the ready just in case.

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember,” said Charles as he splashed the gas over the blood soaked sheets. “It’s all a blur. I just know we’ve got to burn the place down.”

  They heard police sirens in the distance.

  “Oh shit,” said Charles. “We have to burn this place down.”

  “What about the sprinklers?” asked Jim.

  Charles pointed up and said, “I’ve already taken care of the one in here.”

  Jim saw that Charles had tied a towel around the sprinkler on the ceiling. The towel hung down, and Charles had placed a bucket on the bed under it. Jim realized that the towel wouldn’t stop the flow of water, but would direct it down to the bucket, allowing the fire in the room time to spread and burn away the evidence before the sprinkler could put it out.

  “Do you think we’ve got enough gas in here?” asked Charles.

  “It’ll have to be,” said Jim. “I already took care of the computer’s record of who was here, so if we kill ourselves and burn the blood then there shouldn’t be any trace of Michael or Rosemary.”

  The flashing red and blue lights of the approaching squad cars lit up the room. Jim closed the door, and Charles tried to find the cord to the blinds to shut them as well, but the cord seemed to be missing. He pulled the curtain shut, hiding them from the police that had started to fill the parking lot.

  “Let’s move the dresser against the door,” said Jim, and the two worked together to make sure it wouldn’t be easy for any firemen to get into the room. Jim hoped that the police would be preoccupied with the murder scene, but he hadn’t thought about the trail of gasoline that Charles had left behind. Two officers followed the trail, and by the time Charles and Jim had moved the dresser, the police were already at their door.

  They pounded on the door and commanded, “Open up.”

  Charles cursed and backed away.

  “You’ve got a lighter, right?” asked Jim.

  Charles nodded. The color had faded from his face, leaving him looking ghost-like as he stared at Jim. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Do it. You’ve got to light it. Now.”

  The police knocked again, harder this time.

  Charles picked up a lighter from the nightstand. His breath came in sharp succession as he held the lighter over the bed.

  “Do it!” Jim pointed the gun at the frightened stranger.

  Charles rolled the thumbwheel, sparking the flint. Jim expected Charles to have to lower the flame to the bed to ignite the gas, but the fumes burst into fire immediately, engulfing Rosemary’s arsonist. Charles screamed out in shock and pain, and his arms flailed as he spun. The police outside stopped knocking, and started to force their way in. They kicked at the door, and the frame cracked. The dresser was pushed forward as Charles continued to spin in pain and fear, igniting the puddles of gasoline on the floor and the bed in the process.

  Jim tried to aim, but Charles was moving too fast. Jim’s first shot grazed Charles’ face, but didn’t kill him. Jim shot two more times, this time aiming for the other man’s chest. Charles fell, but didn’t die. He was still screaming and swiping at his burning face until Jim shot him dead.

  The police were screaming outside as Jim retreated to the bathroom. The room was already filling with black smoke as Jim closed the door and climbed into the tub. He felt his legs growing numb, as if they threatened to stop carrying him any further even if he wanted to run. He lay flat as the fire continued to grow, engulfing the room outside of the bathroom door.

  He heard the fire alarm trip, and the sprinkler in the bathroom turned on, raining water down on him as he put the gun in his mouth.

  Jim Broadbent pulled the trigger, and ended his servitude to Rosemary Arborton. The witch had won. No one would ever know that Rosemary, Michael, or Ben had ever been to this hotel.

  CHAPTER 18 – An Offering

  Widowsfield

  March 14th, 1996

  “Yes, it worked,” said Oliver as he helped Vess up. “I saw the whole ship disappear. There was a burst of green electricity, and then I watched as it followed the underwater cord back to shore…”

  “The what?” asked Vess.

  Oliver pointed over to the stopgap mechanism and said, “That device is connected to an external power source.”

  Vess glanced over at the orange box, and then back at Oliver. His eyes were growing wider and his grip on Oliver’s arms got tighter. “It’s connected to shore? Physically connected?”

  “Yes. It’s hooked into the local power grid to make sure the CORD doesn’t lose power if…”

  “You idiot!” Vess shook Oliver. The old man’s face contorted in anger as his ears turned red. “You didn’t follow Tesla’s notes.”

  “I did exactly what The Accord told me to. We followed their directions exactly.”

  “The notes said not to allow the device to be connected to anything. That’s why we wanted it in the water, you idiot!”

  “It’s not my fault,” said Oliver. “I followed The Accord’s notes.”

  “And you saw the energy source itself?” asked Vess.

  “Yes,” said Oliver. “After the Eldridge vanished, we saw the cord beneath the water glowing green. It was vanishing too, just like the boat, but then it got to shore. That’s when the ship reappeared.”

  Vess stopped squeezing Oliver’s arms, but his jowl was still contorted in anger, as if he were forcing himself not to scream. Then he pointed at the CORD and said, “See if Lyle’s okay.”

  Oliver made sure that Vess could stand on his own, and then he went to the machine where he unlocked the door and opened it to reveal Lyle within. The elderly psychic was on the floor, in the same position that he’d been when the guards placed him there. He was staring up with unblinking eyes, as if he were seeing things that his mind couldn’t comprehend.

  Oliver knelt beside the invalid and lifted the man’s head, making sure he wasn’t fused to the floor. “He’s alive,” said Oliver, uncertain that saying the man was ‘fine’ would be appropriate.

  “Okay, leave him there,” said Vess. “We have to get to shore. You have to take me to where you saw the energy go.”

  Oliver warned Vess about the dead men in the hall, and how they were fused to the ship, and Vess explained that this was what had happened after the initial experiment also. They made their way to the bridge where they discovered two other sailors that had both fallen into the same semi-unconscious state that Lyle Everman had been in for the past half century. Oliver commented on how lucky the men were that they hadn’t been fused to the ship like the other victims, but Vess didn’t concur. He shook his head and said, “There’s no telling what’s happening to those men right now. I think the ones that died are the lucky ones.”

  Oliver shivered at Vess’s grim statement. He radioed one of the tugboat captains to come back and pick them up, but received no response. He could see the tugs docked on the other side of the reservoir, but either the captains had left or they were ignoring Oliver’s call.

  “I don’t know why they’re not answering.”

  “I think I do,” said Vess. “It’s the same reason none of our men on shore are coming to get us.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Oliver.

  “Because they’re in the same state that these men are.” Vess pointed at the sailors lying on the floor. “They’re catatonic.”

  “How do you know?” asked Oliver as he walked to the window and gazed out at the tugboats on the shore far off.

  “Because I was afraid this could happen,” said Vess as he made his way over to one of the swiveling chairs on the bridge. He sat down and closed his eyes as if settling in for a nap. “We let it out.”

  “Let what out?” asked Oliver.

  “Whatever it is we woke up when we started the experiment in 1943. The thing that watches us.”

  “And what’s that? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “When we set up the first e
xperiment, I brought along a few items that had been sent to me. I never thought much about them at the time, they were just good luck charms to me. I had a bracelet, and a necklace that was used in ceremonial Incan sacrifices, and the hilt of a sacrificial dagger found in the Middle East.” Vess reached into his pocket and produced the hilt. It looked like it was made of metal that had long ago rusted, and there was thin twine wrapped tightly around its grip. The base was shaped like a skull, and a dull spike protruded from its head. “I don’t have the jewelry anymore, but I still have this. For a long time I thought the entity we contacted in Philadelphia lived inside of one of those items, but we were never able to contact it again. Now I think I know why. When we activated the CORD, we allowed the creature to transfer from one of my items and into the ship itself. Now we’ve made it worse. Now it’s out of the ship, and God only knows where it’s gone.”

  Oliver looked at the wall with newfound fear. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Vess. “But I think I dream about it. Ever since the first experiment, I’ve had dreams about black wires reaching out from the walls to grab at me. I’ve been haunted by those dreams, just as I’ve been endlessly pulled back to this experiment, and this ship. It won’t leave me alone. I think that’s the only reason I’m still alive. Because this creature that’s watching us from these walls doesn’t want me to die. I’m tied to it somehow.”

  “And you think we let it out?” asked Oliver.

  Vess nodded and then stood from his seat. He walked back to the window that looked out over the bow of the ship. Oliver followed behind, and they both gazed out at the shore. “That’s why we were supposed to be floating, unanchored, out in the reservoir. The water acts as a barrier to keep the energy in. But you and The Accord let it out.”

  “Let it out where? Onto the shore?”

  Vess stared solemnly out at the tugboats floating in the distance. “I don’t know what we’re going to find out there, but it’s going to be bad. There’s no telling how far the creature managed to get before the CORD shut itself down.”