314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy)

by A. R. Wise

  “He’s scared of you,” said Jeremy as he looked at the woman that he’d been running from for what felt like years.

  “I know,” she said as she nodded. “He doesn’t have to be afraid anymore. Now go. Look for the sunrise. It’s coming. It’ll burn away the fog.”

  Jeremy left, and ran into the storm. He searched for any sign of sunlight, but there was none to be found. The black clouds above were swirling, as if he were staring down at the top of a tornado. The crack of tree limbs being pulled from their trunks could be heard everywhere, and the frequent flashes of lightning created a dance of shadows all around him.

  He went around to the fence at the side of the yard and ran out to the street. There, far in the distance, he saw a beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds. He raced towards it, but felt the ground beneath him falling away, as if he were running through gravel instead of on pavement. He looked at his feet and saw the sidewalk was cracking beneath him. As the gaps grew wider he could see what looked like worms below, interlacing with one another and struggling to keep the concrete together. The cords were snapping, and the ground was falling apart, making it nearly impossible to traverse.

  Jeremy knew he couldn’t reach the light before the world fell apart beneath him, but ahead he saw that the sunrise was blooming faster, and the crepuscular rays were breaking through the black clouds above. Finally, just as the sidewalk was giving way beneath Jeremy and promising to swallow him into the grinding wires below, a ray of light caught him.

  The second the warmth graced his skin, Jeremy knew his nightmare had ended. He watched as the world collapsed beneath him, but he no longer cared. The wires were driven back by the light, and he felt solace at last.

  Sparks of light emerged from his skin, and he felt himself evaporating and being pulled upward. Ahead, merely a silhouette in the bloom of heaven, he saw his father waiting for him.

  CHAPTER 25 – At the End

  Inside Cada E.I.B.’s facility

  March 13th, 2012

  Alma and Paul led the way as Stephen and Rachel followed. They were eager to get out of the building, but they all knew their time in Widowsfield wasn’t over yet. Alma explained to Rachel and Stephen why they had to go to the cabin and wait until the following day. Rachel was hesitant, but agreed that now wasn’t the best time to argue about it. They could discuss their plans at the cabin, but they had to get out of the Cada E.I.B. facility first.

  Stephen was shook up about what he’d been forced to do, and was quieter than usual. Rachel was similarly stunned, and she asked Paul to take the gun from Stephen. He did, and Stephen didn’t offer any resistance. He was happy to be rid of the weapon for the time being. Paul put the gun back in Rosemary’s satchel where it clinked against the glass candles within.

  Power had returned to the facility after they turned off Oliver’s machine, and as they climbed the stairs to the main level they could hear an alarm ringing. They opened the door to the first floor and the shrill alarm struck them as they exited the stairwell.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Paul.

  No one had a chance to respond before they heard a familiar voice screaming their names. Alma looked at Paul and said, “It’s Jacker.”

  They followed the sound of their friend’s voice and found him near the front of the building. His head was bleeding from a gash above his left eye, and he’d taken his glasses off. He squinted as they approached from down the hall, and then waved to them, “Guys, come on!”

  “What the hell happened?” asked Paul as they rejoined Jacker.

  “I’m here to rescue you.”

  “From what?” asked Paul.

  Jacker was flustered and looked at each of them before saying, “I don’t know, from the fucking devil-thing in the walls. I could see it.”

  “You saw it?” asked Rachel.

  Jacker nodded. “Yeah, I was in the parking lot and the walls started shifting and shit. Ben told me The Watcher was coming, and that we should try and get the fuck out of town, but I told him to shut up because I wasn’t leaving my friends behind.”

  “Thanks,” said Paul, “but why the hell are you bleeding?”

  “I drove the van through the entrance of the building.”

  “You what?” asked Alma in astonishment.

  “I figured it would trip an alarm, and it did, and now I found you guys, so it worked. Sort of.”

  “Is the van still drivable?” asked Rachel.

  “I don’t know,” said Jacker with a shrug.

  “Are my dad and Ben still in the van?”

  Jacker nodded and pointed back the way he’d come. “They’re in there. Let’s stop talking and get the fuck out of here.”

  “Amen to that,” said Stephen. It was the first thing he’d said since leaving Oliver’s lab.

  The group agreed and followed Jacker to the entrance where he’d plowed the van through the glass doorway. The van had broken all of the glass, and bent the frame of the entrance inward so that it contoured to the shape of the van’s hood. The radiator was cracked, and fluid was dripping out onto the floor. One of the headlights was shattered, and the driver’s side door was open. Ben and Michael were still in the van, and Jacker told the others to wait as he tried to back the van out.

  They watched as he got in, adjusted his seat, and then managed to back the van out of the hole he’d made in the entrance. Chunks of glass and metal fell away from the frame as he moved. The security van’s front tires ground the glass beneath them as he went, and it was clear that one of the tires was quickly losing air. None-the-less, Jacker managed to get the van out, and he leaned out the window as he waved them in. “Come on, let’s go.”

  “This thing’s going to overheat,” said Paul as he looked at the steaming radiator.

  “It doesn’t have to get us far,” said Alma.

  “We should dump it somewhere away from the cabin,” said Rachel. “There’s a good chance they’re going to send someone out looking for us.”

  “Good point,” said Alma. The group lingered near the shattered entrance to Cada E.I.B. for a moment before Alma said, “Are we ready?”

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” said Paul. “Let’s finish this.”

  In The Watcher’s Widowsfield

  Widowsfield was falling apart. Desmond had watched buildings coming apart to reveal the wires behind the walls. He saw how the raging storm tore the world asunder, cracking edifices and uprooting trees. He witnessed the way the blooming glow of heaven began to wash away the lies that had been erected here. The storm was receding. He ran as the clouds shrank, and he followed their shade, always staying out of the rays of the sun.

  Every time he tried to traverse the town, he eventually fell back into the maelstrom of wires churning below, and they devoured him. The grinding cords tore him apart, but he had to suffer the torture to remain in The Watcher’s web. He couldn’t allow himself the safety of heaven. Not until he found his son.

  At first, Desmond continued to wake up inside of the Salt and Pepper Diner, and from there he would make his journey out to the street and north from there, towards where the storm seemed to be centered. However, each time he reappeared, the diner seemed a bit more disheveled. At first, it seemed that the food was rotting, and he recalled seeing a dilapidated cake on the counter. But each time he awoke again, he noticed other parts of the building had fallen away as well. The bathroom had been boarded up, and one of the tables was missing. Next, a crack in the wall was present that had never been there before. Eventually, the building was a shell of what it had been. The recreation of the scene was flawed, and each time it became worse. The Watcher was losing track of his lies, and his world was falling to pieces.

  The pavement was cracking as Desmond ran. He screamed out Raymond’s name over and over, desperately searching for the boy he knew was still trapped here.

  He avoided the light, and stuck to the cold shadows as he made his way to a familiar street. It became clear that the storm was centered around a
house on Sycamore, and he knew which one. The house he’d bought for his daughter was ahead, and he understood that this hellish world revolved around whatever was hidden within those walls.

  Terry’s cabin was the only building in Widowsfield that wasn’t falling apart. He approached the house, and the door opened as if someone inside was expecting him. He heard a familiar voice say, “Hi, Dad.”

  “Terry?”

  He recognized his daughter’s voice, but didn’t see her. Within the cabin he heard the distinct bark of Terry’s dog, Killer. The barks echoed, as if they were coming from far away.

  “Why are you here?” asked Terry from somewhere inside.

  Desmond walked in and saw the house as it had been when he first purchased it for his daughter. There was no furniture, and the home looked like it had been well cared for by its former owner. He remembered helping his daughter move in, and thinking that she might be able to have a good life here. Above all else, he’d wanted her to be happy, but simply buying her a house hadn’t been enough to change her life. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse. Without the incentive to pay rent or a mortgage, Terry had fallen deeper into the drug world that she’d dabbled in before. Over the years, he’d watched as this once nice house had fallen into disrepair.

  “Terry, where are you?”

  “I’m here,” said his daughter as she revealed herself by coming down the stairs. He saw her bare feet as they padded gently down the wooden staircase that was partially hidden behind the kitchen. She was wearing a white dress that he recognized as having once belonged to her mother. Her skin was pale, but had a healthy glow to it, like it had before she’d started using meth.

  “Terry,” said Desmond as his heart swelled with emotion. “You look so pretty.”

  She stood on the bottom step and gave him a pained grin. “I’m sorry I made you hate me.”

  “Oh, honey,” said Desmond as he took a step closer to her. She backed away, taking a step up the stairs again as he approached. “Terry, I never hated you. Never.”

  “Then why aren’t you here looking for me? Why are you here looking for Raymond?”

  “Because he’s my son,” said Desmond, his voice heavy with guilt. “I love you both.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t blame you.”

  “Terry, I don’t hate you. I love you.” Emotion caused his voice to quake as he took a step closer to his daughter. “I’ve always loved you.”

  “Don’t come up here, Dad,” said Terry as she took another step up the stairs. “You should just leave.”

  “Terry, help me find your brother. Let’s all leave together. Okay? I want you to come with me.”

  “I can’t,” said Terry. “And neither can Ray. He’s with The Watcher now, and we all have to play our roles.” She reached the top of the stairs as Desmond followed her up. Terry was walking backwards, towards the bedroom at the end of the hall. As Desmond followed, he saw the home changing back into the way it had looked after Terry owned it. The walls became darker, and cobwebs grew in the corners. The stench of drugs became prevalent as he watched his daughter back her way into the bedroom.

  Terry’s glowing skin turned paler and the dark circles under her eyes returned. She no longer looked like the cherub-faced girl he once knew, but now resembled the addict she’d become near the end of her life. Her teeth began to fall out, and they tapped on the wood floor.

  Desmond saw that there were scratches on the floor of her bedroom, and blood began to seep from them to form a pool. Terry walked into the growing blood and began to lie down on it. The center of her dress, over her stomach, bloomed red with blood as if she’d been wounded, and then the cloth began to melt away until she was left nude. Her gut was open, and Desmond could see her intestines within as she lay back. The skin on her face began to turn bright red and blister, and white foam began to coat her lips as she looked up at him and said, “Don’t look at me. I don’t want you to see…”

  She choked and a gush of the white foam and blood surged over her lips.

  “Terry!” Desmond screamed his daughter’s name over and over as he tried to reach out to her. As he grasped, she faded away. All that was left was the blood where she’d died. He knelt over where his daughter had been murdered and wailed in agony.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I love you. I love you so much. Don’t go away again.”

  Her blood began to seep back into the stab wounds on the floor. Terry was lost again, and the cabin began to crumble, just like the rest of the world. The Watcher was starting over, and Desmond was caught in the walls as the cords swallowed him once again.

  “Daddy,” said Terry. “Go home. Raymond’s hiding there.”

  CHAPTER 26 – Hidden Truth

  Widowsfield

  March 13th, 2012

  “Are you telling me we have to wait in this fucking haunted ass house for a day?” asked Jacker as they walked back into the house that none of them ever wanted to be inside of again.

  “Not a full day. Just until 3:14 in the morning,” said Alma as she looked at the tile in the kitchen where she’d scrawled ‘314’ with her own blood. There was no number on the floor there anymore. She looked at her palm and realized that she’d never actually been cut. The realization made her question which parts of her memory were true, and which were fabrications. She glanced over at the window and saw that a pane was still broken out of it from where her mother had forced her to crawl through so many years earlier.

  Paul was carrying Ben in his arms. “Where do we want him?”

  “Upstairs,” said Alma. “Put him on the bed.”

  Ben did his best to speak, but he was still only able to croak out a few words at a time. “Alma, please… Kill…”

  “He was talking earlier,” said Jacker. “Back in the van he was talking just fine.”

  “Maybe he was fucking with your head,” said Rachel. “You said he was trying to get you to drive away, right? Maybe he was the one creating the visions you were seeing.”

  “He can do that?” asked Jacker.

  “Rosemary said she didn’t know what he was capable of,” said Alma.

  “And we’re going to have to stay in the same house with him?” asked Stephen.

  “Not just any house, either,” said Rachel as she pointed at the floor. “This damn house.”

  “Guys, if you don’t want to stay I’d understand,” said Alma.

  “Didn’t we just have this exact same conversation a day ago?” asked Jacker with a weak grin.

  “Yep,” said Rachel. “And I wanted to take off back then too. But, I’m not going to abandon you guys. You didn’t have to come looking for Stephen and me in the basement of that place, so I’m not going to leave you guys either. As much of an idiot as that makes me.” She shook her head and looked out the window.

  “Well, thanks,” said Alma. “Although, I don’t know what to expect tomorrow.”

  “No one knows,” said Jacker. “But I sure the hell know a couple things for certain: I’m starving and exhausted.”

  “Same here,” said Stephen.

  “I can drive the security van out by where we first arrived and see if my van’s still there,” said Jacker. “If it is, then I can take it and swing out to a fast food joint around here and get some food for our slumber party in Creepsville.”

  “Stephen,” said Rachel, “go with him.”

  Alma sensed that Rachel wanted Stephen to go along not only to help, but to make sure Jacker didn’t take off. Rachel still didn’t trust Jacker after she discovered that he was wanted by the police back in Chicago.

  Stephen agreed, and soon he was headed out with Jacker. Paul took Ben upstairs, and they put Michael on the couch. Alma’s father had become lethargic after leaving Cada E.I.B., and Alma suspected that whatever drugs he’d been taking that gave him so much energy had finally begun to wear off.

  “I’m so tired it feels like the floor’s moving,” said Rachel after Jacker and Stephen had left.

  “We should t
ry and get some sleep,” said Alma. “We can do it in shifts, that way someone can watch Ben and my dad.”

  They were standing in the kitchen, near where Alma had scrawled the number ‘314’ in her own blood on the floor. It was the same spot where Alma’s mother had performed the ritual that had re-ignited Alma’s memory of Ben.

  “I’m so sorry we convinced you to come back here, Alma,” said Rachel.

  “It’s not your fault,” said Alma as she looked around the room. Oliver and Rosemary had done a good job recreating the cabin to look like it had sixteen years ago. “I think I needed to come back. There’re so many things about my past that got wiped out of my memory. When we were getting my dad from Branson, Rosemary told me that my mother tried to kill me.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Rachel.

  Alma nodded and explained, “She drove me off the cliff. The same one I drove you guys off of in our dream, or whatever the hell that was. She tried to kill me, but I don’t have any memory of it at all. It’s just like how I couldn’t remember Ben. There’re just whole parts of my life that were stolen from me.”

  “Maybe that’s for the best,” said Rachel. “Remembering how your mother tried to kill you might screw with your head.”

  They heard Paul coming back down the stairs, and Alma noted how it sounded as his footsteps thumped on the carpet. She looked quizzically at him as he approached.

  “Ben’s in the bed,” said Paul. He saw Alma’s odd stare and asked, “Is everything okay?”

  Alma could distinctly recall the sound of her father coming down the stairs. The couch that Ben and Alma always sat on was faced away from the stairs, and whenever they heard the loud sound of their father’s footsteps she recalled feeling tense and nervous. “There wasn’t carpet,” she said as she walked past Paul and to the stairs. She studied the way the carpet on the stairs stopped at the bottom floor, and she looked up in confusion.