Haunted II
Awakening
Christian Burch
© Christian Burch December 2016
All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or used without written consent by the author and publisher.
This story is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and names are ideas created by the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real persons, living or deceased, or an event is wholly coincidental.
Books by Christian Burch
The Mirror: Seven Mind-Bending Tales
E.V.I.L.
Haunted
Haunted II: Awakening
Haunted III: Reckoning (Date TBD)
Dangerous Impulses (May 2017)
Short Story Collections
Dark Horizons
Dark Horizons II: Legends (April 2017)
Dark Horizons III: Twisted Dreams (October 2017)
Our Family Recipe
Good Home Cookin’
For Here Or To Go?
Order Up
Secret Ingredient (Spring 2017)
Co-written with Wes Penberthy
Corrupted Justice (February 2017)
Vengeful Justice (March 2017)
To Audrey and Carly,
For asking me what happened after the first book and the insights into Zoe. This book wouldn’t have happened without your questions and support.
Author’s Note
This story was actually a year and a half in the making. At the time of completing the first one, I had no intention of writing a sequel. I thought the story was complete, signed, sealed and delivered, so I wrote five other stories. During the time of writing the other books, a seed of an idea began to take shape after talking with Audrey about how Haunted was her favorite book of mine she’d read.
After talking at length about the story, she asked me “what’s next?” I proceeded to tell her about the other books I’d written and she shook her head and said she meant with Greg and Zoe. I didn’t really have an answer because I hadn’t entertained that thought.
Immediately ideas started bouncing around in my head and two sequels were outlined out within a month. Hands down, these are my favorite books I’ve written so far and it was a real joy coming back to visit them and see what’s going on in their lives after the events of the first book.
I hope that you all enjoy this story as much as I did writing it. And when you finish, don’t think the story is done because there is still one more book to follow: Haunted III: Reckoning. So without further time wasted, enjoy!
Prologue
Orange leaves spun around lazily as the wind picked up, bringing with it a breath of coolness. Fall in Virginia had the potential for picturesque landscapes coupled with beautiful weather and this October was shaping up to be one of the best. At least for young Zoe Phillips.
Her hair streamed behind her on the breeze as she swung back and forth on the new swing set her dad had built for her a week prior. Bradley Phillips may have put on an intimidating exterior on the work site, and according to his workers, had a tendency to be quite the hard ass. His soft spot was reserved for his little girl who had melted his heart from the moment he witnessed her entering this world. The swing set was an early birthday present… two weeks early. Elizabeth just rolled her eyes when he took a sick day from work to build it and have it ready when she got home from school.
“You can’t even wait just two weeks Brad?”
Sweat dripped down his brow as he wrestled with a screw that didn’t want to cooperate. He knew she was just teasing him. They’d been married for four years before their little angel arrived. He grunted and smiled at her over his shoulder.
“She’s been nagging me about a swing set for months now. I can’t keep telling her, wait and see. I was going to die if I had to see that look on her face one more time Liz.”
Today was Saturday and Zoe had come home to the swing set on Thursday. The look of pure joy and love beaming on her face was proof enough that Bradley had made the right choice. Elizabeth secretly agreed but vocally told him it would have been more special on the day of her actual birthday.
The sky was turning a reddish orange as the sun started its descent. Zoe swung back and forth, engrossed with the kaleidoscope of colors on display in the sky. At seven years old, she imagined angels using the sky as their canvas as they painted a masterpiece just for her. A squeak from the empty swing next to her brought a smile to her face.
* * *
Elizabeth continued washing the dishes from dinner, keeping an eye on her daughter who was swinging outside in the back yard. The window to her left permitted a perfect view. Next to the window, Bradley sat in his worn, brown recliner, paper in his hands. Pretending to read. The cursory glances her way were evidence enough.
“How long is it going to take before you bring your lazy ass in here and dry the dishes?”
With a sigh, he rose from the chair and entered the kitchen.
“Thought I had you fooled that time.”
He kissed her on the back of the neck and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Being charming isn’t going to get you out of drying the dishes Romeo.”
“Does a man need an ulterior motive to express love to his wife? I was simply being an affectionate and attentive husband, but have it your way.”
The silence following their banter was heavy.
Elizabeth’s gaze was on the pot in front of her as she scrubbed the remnants of gravy that clung to the bottom and sides. Bradley couldn’t help but steal a look in her direction. Since she’d gone to the meeting, the ball was in his court to bring the subject into the light.
He cleared his throat before speaking.
“So how did it go this afternoon? What did she say?”
“What we expected I guess. She pushed the other girl, Maggie, because she was making fun of her. Mrs. Nelson said some of the other kids have been calling her names, and picking on her,” she handed the pot to Bradley to dry, and then continued. “This incident occurred because Maggie told Zoe she was weird and crazy for talking to her imaginary friend.”
He could feel his face getting red.
“Does this Mrs. Nelson not know how to stop this kind of shit from going on in the classroom? Isn’t discipline part of her job?”
“There are nineteen students in her class and she’s doing her best but she can’t hear every conversation that takes place.”
Bradley put the pot down with more force than necessary.
“Then I’m glad Zoe stood up for herself.”
“I’m sure you are tough guy. Apparently Zoe told Mrs. Nelson that you gave her permission to, let me see if I can get this right, damn well finish it…”
Bradley stifled a laugh and looked innocently at his wife.
“I didn’t think she’d ever repeat that to her teacher but I did tell her that I didn’t want to ever hear that she had started a fight. And it sounded like this snot Maggie had it coming.”
Elizabeth shook her head, turned off the sink and looked at Bradley with the look that he dreaded. The one that said she was worried and concerned.
“How long is this imaginary friend phase going to last Brad? I’m starting to get worried.”
He pulled her close, her head resting against his chest.
“There’s nothing to worry about sweetheart. Any day now she’s going to grow out of it, just watch.”
Their bodies turned and he rubbed her back, kissing her forehead. In his arms, part of her believed him but another part harbored doubts and fear.
* * *
Zoe waited until she saw her parents leave the kitchen and head to the living room.
“I really showed that Maggie
girl huh?”
Her feet kicked back and forth lazily in the air as she swung.
“It’s not wrong that I felt good doing it right?”
The swing creaked lightly as she dug her feet in and stopped swinging.
“Okay. Well are you going to swing with me or not?”
The empty swing beside her groaned as if someone or something heavy had sat upon it, and began to swing back and forth. Zoe smiled and looked back to the sun dipping lower into the horizon.
Chapter 1
23 Years Later
Present Day
Greg Sanders shook awake with a startled grunt.
An elbow to the stomach tended to result in that or a similar reaction. Zoe’s left arm now nestled against his side after the beating it dished out. She was a heavy sleeper and continued to doze peacefully. An elbow to the stomach, kick to the legs, or hogging the blankets was almost a guaranteed nightly occurrence. His hand gently moved a strand of her hair from her face and he kissed her cheek. Her response was a soft sigh.
Greg had been a light sleeper since high school and now in his early thirties, it was a habit that wasn’t going to change. His eyes began to adjust and realized the predicament he was in.
The first step was by far the easiest. He carefully slipped his arm out from beneath Zoe, the movement causing her to roll onto her side. The next would prove slightly more difficult. DJ, their loveable boxer was passed out, his front half draped over Greg’s right leg. The numbness was a good indication of the annoying pins and needles soon to follow his vacating the bed.
The light snoring stopped as Greg shifted slightly, hoping to remove himself without waking DJ. Just a little bit further and he would be free. Too late. DJ’s head rose at the exact moment that his foot came out from under his paws.
“I’ll be right back bud. Just need to get a drink.”
DJ’s eyes remained open but his head rested back on the sheets between his paws. A loud exhale in answer that seemed to say, ‘fine, but don’t take too long, I was comfortable.’
Quietly, Greg walked out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. Within seconds his right leg throbbed with each step as it regained feeling. He stole a glance into Joey’s room, which was empty because he was staying the week with Jessica and Jason. One would have been surprised at the tidiness of the room, but it was a testament to Zoe’s desire and notion to keep a clean, orderly apartment. At five years old, having a clean room wasn’t necessarily a priority for him.
Various pictures hung on the walls of the hallway, the majority from the past year. The two of them on a hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains, a weekend trip to Florida, a snowball fight from the previous winter, and Greg’s favorite: Joey, Zoe, and himself outside of a log cabin they’d rented over summer in North Carolina.
Based on the pictures one could make the assumption that they were loaded but that wasn’t necessarily true. Forgetting and moving past horrible, traumatic experiences needed good, happy ones to replace them. It worked well… most of the time. Multiple deaths combined with an attack by a demonic entity tended to wreak havoc on a person’s psyche. Once or twice a week, Greg would wake in a cold sweat, breathing heavily from one of his recurring nightmares that plagued him. Without knowing all of the details, Zoe did a hell of a job helping Greg in the best way she could: love and support him unconditionally. There were just certain things that Greg couldn’t share yet but with time, he knew those barriers would crumble down.
Therapy was helping, mainly because of the medication and not the incessant ramblings of his therapist. Greg didn’t swallow any of the shit that the doctor continued to try and feed him on a weekly basis. He’d become quite the expert on giving the answers and responses that kept the doctor from prying too deep. If it kept his prescription filled, he’d say whatever would please the doctor.
His feet skidded on the tile entering the kitchen and his heart skipped a beat as he sucked in a deep breath.
Squatting on the kitchen counter was a monstrosity with smoldering red eyes. Dark fur covered most of its body and it looked to be the size of a young child. Clawed hands gripped the top of the counter, drool dripping from its pointed teeth, pooling onto the floor. Head tilted to the side, it appeared to be grinning at him. Greg slammed his eyes shut and counted to three. Upon opening them, he expelled the air he’d been holding in his lungs for the past few seconds in a whoosh.
The kitchen counter was empty of any creature. A bowl containing two green apples, and three bananas sat next to the coffee maker. A napkin holder stood alone on the far side, half empty. Bills, coupons, and random mail was stacked on the edge of the counter awaiting his attention. He’d go through it tomorrow.
The hallucinations were a bitch. Dr. Monroe told him they would fade with time and were not uncommon. That was six months ago. A small part of him wondered if they were hallucinations at all. Sometimes they vanished within the three seconds… other times the manifestations hung around for a few minutes. On the rare occasion they growled, made guttural noises, and even spoke to him.
Shaking his head, he grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and downed a few gulps. The events in Fairmont had changed his outlook and beliefs, especially concerning the realm of the supernatural. He wasn’t looking to play the role of a skeptic, doubter, or victim again.
Hence the reason for there being five crosses throughout their apartment. Above the front door, Joey’s room, the kitchen, Zoe and Greg’s bedroom, and the living room. It gave him a peace of mind. Water bottle in hand, Greg headed back to their bedroom to try and go back to sleep.
A few minutes later, the cross that hung on the wall in Joey’s room rotated slowly to an upside down position.
Chapter 2
A banana, two smore flavored Pop Tarts (courtesy of having a five year old in the apartment), and a bottle of orange juice. A strange, yet satisfying combination. Looking at his watch spurred Greg to move faster. His plan was to be at Starbucks by eight thirty. Gave him time to get situated in the area that he’d deemed his writing spot from day one. If someone else was occupying that space… he’d pout internally and find another spot but it just wouldn’t hold the same vibe. The instant that person left, he’d pick up his laptop, coffee, and bag then race over there like it was the home stretch of the Indy 500.
Zoe coughed from the kitchen, stopping him with his hand on the door knob.
“Right, my bad. Just in a hurry this morning sweetheart.”
She never let him leave their apartment without a kiss goodbye. Even when he tasted of chocolate and OJ.
“What are you working on today?”
Her hands were wrapped firmly around his waist, her sparkling green eyes holding him in the moment.
“I’m writing two book reviews for new horror releases and coming up with questions for the author interview I have on Thursday with Tim Lebbon. With Halloween coming up, they’re desperate to have some good horror writers and books to advertise.”
She nodded and lifted her mouth towards his.
“You know when you kiss me like that; all thoughts of work and anything productive just go out the window. Maybe they can wait on these reviews a bit longer?”
She shook her head with a smile.
“No such luck lover boy. I’ve got to be at the library by nine.”
With a hurt look on his face, his shoulders fell in defeat. “I love you, but you’re a tease, you know that? Getting my hopes up like that and then just crushing them into oblivion is just wrong.”
Both hands on his back, she pushed him towards the door as he dragged his feet.
“I know, but you make it too easy. I love you too and have a good day!”
At times she envied the work that Greg did... working your own hours, having a boss that’s hundreds of miles away, and getting paid to read and write. Not that her job was horrible. As a librarian she was surrounded by books all day. The only thing that spoiled her job was the people that didn’t harbor a love for reading
, and came there for the free Internet. They were the ones that grated on her nerves and made her want to slip a note in the employee suggestion box for alcohol to be served during work hours.
Thankfully those days were mostly over now that she’d been promoted to being the manager of the Young Adult Section. She’d let the library pages and assistants deal with those problems. She had her new office arranged perfectly in her mind.
Tall bookcase against the back wall filled to the brim with some of the favorites from her personal collection, a comfortable chair to read in on breaks and for people who frequented her office to sit in, pictures of her and Greg on her desk and walls. She shook her head of those fancies, realizing she was getting way ahead of herself. Today was the last training day. Tomorrow the world was her oyster, or at least the Young Adult Section of the library.
* * *
His fingers rested lightly on the keyboard. It had been fifteen minutes and he was only on the third sentence. Greg’s attention wasn’t on the piece he was writing but on the arrogant prick who’d cut him off on the way to his designated seat in Starbucks. His mind wasn’t on writing the book review but it was entertaining some scenes that would fit well with a horror story. It took all of his mental strength and focus but he brought his attention back to the review he needed to finish.
Motion out of the corner of his eye stopped him mid-sentence. Bag on his shoulder, coffee in one hand, laptop in the other, he strode over to claim his spot. Was it a bit dramatic? Only if you weren’t a writer. Having a routine was vital to the quality and quantity of writing he accomplished on daily basis.
An hour after working in his normal work space had one review written, edited and emailed, along with the second one started. Each review needed to be between two hundred and three hundred words. In one hour, he made $250. Not bad.
Maybe two more hours and he’d grab a bite to eat, then head home for the day. He didn’t take his job for granted. It gave him freedom that most never dreamed of. Three to four hours at the coffee shop, then home to walk DJ, followed by three hours writing his novel. It took him over thirty years but he’d finally landed his dream job and loved every minute of it.
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