by Jack Castle
“Most people think of Purgatory as a place of post death suffering, torment, and atonement for sin, with eventual soul reconciliation.”
“Sounds like hell,” Emma said, peeking out from behind the other side of the totem.
“No, that would be eternal suffering. Purgatory is more … temporary. I like to think of it as a process of purification, an intermediate state between death and final judgment, if you will.”
“So some people go to heaven and others to hell, but if you’re on the fence you go to Purgatory so God can figure it out?”
“Something like that. I think to be fair to God, it’s more like the fence riders are sent to Purgatory for them to figure it out.
Emma thought about it for a second, and then asked, “So, is Purgatory a bad place?”
“You mean is there pain and fire?”
Emma nodded.
Horatio tilted his head to the side, as he often did when he was trying to recall facts. Emma suspected he had a photographic memory the way he appeared to be reading his recollections out of the corner of his eyes. “In 1206, a peasant in England claimed St. Julian took him on a tour of the place. He said the Saint showed him torture chambers and challenging mazes. And St. Augustine described cleansing fires that were more painful than anything man could ever suffer in life.”
“What about that guy, Dante?”
“Hmm-hmm. You’re talking about the Italian poet, Dante Alighieri. In the fourteenth century he wrote how Purgatory had seven levels representing the seven deadly sins. Keep in mind, I’m abridging here, but the souls had to pass through the appropriate punishments as they climbed their way to the top of a vast mountain for salvation. If they passed all the tests they were cleansed of all sin and made ready for Heaven.”
Emma bit down on her lower lip, and then asked, “So, what do you think?”
Horatio grinned and answered, “Well … I’ve always known growth to be painful.”
Emma threw a snowball and hit him full in the face. Horatio just stood there blinking behind his askew glasses with disbelief. Waiting for her to stop laughing he pointed to the snow still on his face. “You see? You illustrate my point perfectly. Emma does not respond well to sarcasm and the way I learned that was quite painful.”
“I’m sssoooo sorry,” she said, but couldn’t stop laughing. Emma moved over and helped Horatio wipe the snow from his face. “But seriously, what do you think?”
Horatio sat on a rock and started cleaning his glasses with his shirt. His smile faded away and his demeanor became more somber. “I think Purgatory is like a second chance. Basically I think it’s God’s way of saying, ‘I haven’t given up on you yet but you’ve only got one more chance to get it right before I boot your butt downstairs.’ We all have choices to make so I guess it’s important that we make the right ones.”
Silence hung in the air until Emma nudged him with her shoulder, “What are you, my shrink?”
Horatio smiled knowingly. “I like to think of myself more as your spirit guide.”
Emma giggled. Though, something about what he’d said made her uncomfortable. She seemed to recall a difficult decision she had made in her recent past. It had been something about her Uncle John, but for the life of her, the outcome eluded her.
Emma cocked an ear to the side. She heard a thundering sound in the distance. “What’s that noise?”
Horatio listened for a second. “That? Oh, there’s a waterfall at the end of the canyon.”
Emma’s eyes widened with excitement. “Can we see it?”
Horatio gazed towards the heavens for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, it’s still a ways up the canyon. Maybe we should head back. Besides, it’ll be dark soon.”
“Oh, c’mon, you big baby,” she said, grabbing his arm and tugging him to his feet. “We’ve got plenty of daylight left. We can’t come up all this way and not see a waterfall. Besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“Emma, wait!” Horatio yelled. He snatched up their packs, and then ran after her.
Chapter 15
The Waterfall
Clearing a bend in the canyon a roaring sound exploded up ahead. Emma didn’t even slow down. It had to be the waterfall.
It was beautiful. The water launched from a fifty-foot rock face above and cascaded down into an emerald green pool below. In the center of the small lake sat a half-submerged 50’s pickup truck. The rusted out red Ford should have marred the scene, but somehow it only enhanced it.
Emma noticed other relics scattered about the grassy area surrounding the lake: An overturned train car, a crumbling shack, and various pieces of rusted mining equipment. At the very back of the canyon Emma noticed a broken train trestle. The old blackened wooden timber beams stood about thirty feet high. At one time the trestle most likely traversed over the canyon they now occupied.
The whole scene seemed familiar somehow, as though ebbing at the distant corners of her memory. A chill ran down her spine as it hit her. The high trestle was one of the paintings she had seen in her nightmares. But how was that possible? It had only been a dream, and she had never been here before.
How can you dream about something you haven’t even seen?
“Geez, would you wait up already?”
Horatio ran up beside her. She decided not to tell Horatio about the relics that matched the paintings in her nightmares so vividly. She had told him so much already and didn’t want to scare him away.
Horatio stood close enough to let the mist from the waterfall wash over him. As he closed his eyes she found herself gazing at his face. The guy could’ve been a movie star. She found herself wondering what would happen if she finally gave in to his innocent flirtations.
When Horatio finally opened his eyes and noticed her staring at him his smile dropped and his eyes grew wide. She told herself that if he had crossed over to her right then and took her in his arms, she’d let him.
Before she could find out what would happen, a horrific scream startled them both.
Emma turned her head up to where the broken railroad trestle connected with the mountain. “It came from up there on that ledge.”
Horatio thought about it for a second. “Ophelia told me several geologists are camping up on the ridge.”
A second horrifying scream reverberated off the canyon walls. Emma’s eyes widened at the sound. Whoever it was, they were in excruciating pain. She pounded Horatio on his forearm, “Use your cell phone.”
He shook his head. “No cell phones within fifty miles of HavenPort.”
Of course Emma knew that. She had found it weird using landlines again. One thing was certain, whoever it was needed help. She spied a ladder that ran up the side of the train trestle near the ridge.
“Where are you going?” Horatio asked as she moved toward it.
“C’mon, someone’s in trouble,” she yelled back over her shoulder.
Emma arrived at the bottom of the ladder. A closer examination revealed the old timbered scaffolding had to have been built at least a hundred years ago. She wasn’t crazy about climbing up a ladder that was well on its way to kindling but clearly there wasn’t any other way.
“Emma, you can’t go up there. I’m not sure that thing will even hold your weight.”
Ignoring him, Emma climbed the first few rungs. They creaked loudly beneath her feet. She stopped her ascent. If the ladder was going to break she’d rather it happen right now while she was only a few feet off the ground, and not thirty feet up in the air. Admittedly, part of her did hope the ladder would break, that way she’d have an excuse for not going up there and finding out the cause of that horrific scream.
But of course the stupid ladder did hold, at least for now anyway, so, playing the part of the reluctant hero, she resumed her ascent.
Horatio shouted after her. “Emma, what are you going to do when you get up
there? You don’t even have a gun.”
She stopped about twelve feet up, and glanced back down at him. “Don’t you have one?” When he shook his head, she spat, “Well, why the hell not?”
“I’ve never needed one before. Climb down and we’ll go get the sheriff.”
Emma thought it over for a moment then said more to herself than Horatio, “I’ll just take a quick look over the ledge and, if it’s too dangerous, I’ll climb back down.” That said, she resumed her climb upward. The footing was treacherous. She almost slipped, and barely caught herself. Several spectators in the form of enormous ravens cawed overhead in laughter. Emma told them to shut up and kept climbing; the wood continued to creak under her weight as she went.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Horatio yelled up to her.
Emma was disappointed in him. He seemed to have no concern whatsoever for the screamer.
About twelve feet from the ledge she reached a small landing. Before assaulting the next ladder, she glanced back down over the railing. She was about twenty feet in the air and realized if the platform collapsed out from under her at this height, the fall would probably be fatal. As she moved across the landing the creaking floorboards beneath each step confirmed her worst fears. She considered turning around when she heard a weak voice cry out for help. “I’m coming!” Emma shouted with renewed vigor, and then attacked the next ladder a little less cautiously.
She climbed another ten feet when a man belly flopped onto the ledge above her. He was in his mid-thirties with a light colored scraggily beard and round spectacles. His face was bloody and even from this distance she could see part of his flesh was hanging off his jaw. Whatever had struck him was strong.
His wild eyes eventually found her. “Please, Ma’am,” he sobbed, reaching down to her with the desperation of a drowning man, as though her merest touch might pluck him from danger. “Please, help me. I’m not ready to be judged.”
Not ready to be judged … what an odd thing to say.
Emma threw caution to the wind and began climbing faster. Within seconds her fingers were inches of his. There was a deep rumbling growl from somewhere beyond the man and before they could touch, he was violently pulled away, screaming as he vanished from sight.
“Breathe, just breathe,” Emma told herself, and was about to finish her climb when the biggest bear Emma had ever seen in her life suddenly thrust his gargantuan head over the ledge. Its skull was massive. His right eye was milky gray, and a hideous scar was visible on his snout from where a bullet must have once grazed his face and eye. This had to be the harbinger of death, Barnabus. The sight of him nearly caused her to fall, and soil her pants. Only clenching muscles prevented both.
Barnabus released a thunderous roar.
She was frozen. The thought of the frightened geologist kept her from climbing down immediately. And after a few long seconds, she realized the bear couldn’t reach her. The bear seemed to know this too and gave her a venomous stare with its one good eye. Staring into it, she could see it burned red and made Barnabus seem more like a beast from hell than anything from this world or its past.
Horatio yelled from below, “Holy crap! Emma, get back down here!”
The bear’s mighty dome vanished with a WHOOSH and was gone. Still too frightened to move, she could hear him galloping off. As much as she wanted to retreat, she knew there were people up on the ridge that needed help. She wasn’t going to be overly heroic to the point of getting herself killed but she also knew she had to try.
As she crept up the last few rungs, she listened intently for any sign of the bear. Hearing none, and summoning every ounce of courage in her body, she peered carefully up over the ledge.
The campsite was little more than a few tents surrounding a smoldering campfire. The single campfire still glowed, and smashed tents, and empty sleeping bags were strewn about like discarded trash. She couldn’t see any sign of the bear or anyone else. At least not from this vantage point. Emma knew she had to get up on the ridge if she was going to be of any help to anyone.
Too late to turn back now.
Before going onward and upward, Emma focused on her breathing. She wouldn’t do anyone any good if she hyperventilated and passed out on the ladder. One advantage she did have as a former ballet dancer was excellent breath control. But, as she took deep controlling breathes, she smelled something pungent and sickening.
Emma reached the top and pulled herself from the ladder, but before leaving it behind and taking another step, she waited. Still no sign of Barnabus. Maybe he was gone. The blood trail that marked where the poor geologist had been dragged away from the ledge, out of the campsite, and into the woods certainly indicated as much.
She decided to check the tents for survivors first. As she ventured toward the campsite, her eyes scanned the ground and searched for a weapon; a rock, a sharp stick, anything. Emma froze when she heard what sounded like a rock striking a coconut. Lifting her gaze from the ground, she squinted through the smoke of the smoldering fire and saw a man on the other side.
Not knowing what else to do, she called out to him. “Hello, are you all right?”
The man didn’t answer. He was squatted down on his haunches and using a rock to bang on something lying on the ground. She was about to call out to him again but as she moved closer she realized the man wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothes. He was completely naked. Worse still … he wasn’t banging on a coconut. It was a human head.
On the last THOCK the naked man cracked the severed head open like an islander splitting open a coconut. He then took two fingers and rooted around inside the decapitated head as though searching for something inside. Not finding whatever he was looking for he sighed heavily, slumped his shoulders, and shook his head in disappointment. He tossed the human head away and then reached for another.
That’s when Emma saw the pyramid of severed heads stacked up on the forest floor. The naked man lifted the bloodstained rock high over his head to strike, but then stopped, as though sensing her presence.
Emma’s heart sank into her belly. She was rooted to the spot. As harrowing as the bear had been, the scene before her was even more horrific.
Oddly enough her first thought was, ‘Why am I not throwing up? I should be throwing up.’
The naked man slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes found her. Emma could never tell anyone why, but somehow his visage scared her far more than the bear. He wasn’t a big man, nor dangerous in appearance, but his eyes; they were downright malevolent, and when he saw her, he flashed her a sickening grin akin to a demented child who found a new insect to burn with his magnifying glass.
“Oh God,” Emma cried out, and that’s when the vomit finally flew from her mouth. She felt with absolute certainty that she would not survive this latest nightmare. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand she managed feebly, “What are you doing?”
The naked man tilted his head to the side, studying her. “Searching for the truth. Why? What are you doing here?”
Knees buckling, she stammered, “Why did you kill all those people?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he rose with purpose, his intent clear. He was going to kill her. As he passed a tree stump, he grabbed a hatchet buried in its wood without even looking at it.
Emma needed no further urging. She bolted for the ladder.
Arriving to it, she fell on her belly, swung her legs around the way only a dancer could, and was on the ladder in a flash. She climbed down four rungs below the ledge when she felt pain in her scalp and at the nape of her neck. She reached up and felt a bony, but extremely strong hand holding her hair.
The naked, murderous bastard had snagged her. And now she was about to die.
A vision of the hatchet swinging down upon her exposed neck caused her to decide that she’d rather fall to her death than have her skull cracked open like a coconut. So she hooked her toes u
nder the rung beneath her feet and pulled with all of her might. As she fell off the ladder she cried out as a handful of hair ripped from her scalp. Her only hope was that she’d take the murderous sicko with her.
Her flailing hands on the ladder rungs managed to slow some of the descent, but she slammed down onto the landing nearly a dozen feet down and came to rest onto her back.
Air knocked out of her pancaked lungs she spied the naked man laying down on the ledge. He was grinning down at her. It was an unnatural smile, almost ear to ear. Then in the same fashion as the bear, and equally as quick, his head vanished from the ledge.
A hand grasped her shoulder. She tried to scream but couldn’t because of the wind vacant from her chest.
Horatio’s face loomed over hers. “Oh geez,” Horatio cried, concerned. He helped her sit up. “I told you that ladder wouldn’t hold.”
As breath began to return she stammered, “I saw him.” Gulping air she asked, “Did you see him?”
“See who, the bear?”
Emma, in a voice tempered by fear, asked, “Weren’t you watching?”
“I saw you climb over the ledge after that bear, so I climbed up after you. The next thing I know you nearly fell down right on top of me.”
Emma took another deep breath, realizing that Horatio hadn’t seen the horrific images she had.
Gulping air, “We gotta… we gotta go tell the sheriff.”
“What about the geologists?”
Emma shivered uncontrollably, took another gulping breath. “They’re dead. They are all dead.”
Chapter 16
Hunting Barnabus
The two kids sitting outside his office were scared out of their minds.
After all they had been through, plus another two hour scary hike back waiting for another attack; who could blame them.
Hank yanked open the ammo drawer, snatched three cartons of shotgun shells, and shoved them into his vest. If they were going up against ole’ Barnabus, he wanted as much firepower as they could carry. It was going to be dark in a couple of hours so he also grabbed an extra flashlight and clipped it to his vest. After what had happened to him in the Rakewell building, he wanted as much light as he could carry too.
