Echoes (Whisper Trilogy Book 2)

by Michael Bray

  “I think I see it!” Cody shouted, unable to hide his excitement.

  The forest ahead had come to an abrupt end, and was now filled with shimmering golden sun. They entered the clearing, squinting at the sudden change from dark to light. The crystalline air was cold and crisp, their breath fogging in front of them before being dragged away by the slight draft. The clearing was dense with thorns and tall grass, long overgrown, and as the wind moved the trees it left mottled kaleidoscopic patterns of bright light dancing across the floor. Just ahead, looming like a black, rotten tooth jutting out of the ground, was the reason they’d come here – the charred remains of Hope House.

  Cody sucked in breath as he stared at the blackened, fragmented structure. He pulled the video camera out of his bag and started to shoot. The corner of the building still standing was daubed with graffiti, and the ground around the house was littered with evidence of campfires and parties. Empty beer bottles lay strewn across the debris field, their shattered remains glimmering like tiny islands of fire when they were caught by the sun.

  “Check this out,” Cody said with a grin, pointing to a faded porno mag pinned to one of the blackened roof beams now lying on the ground.

  “You can still smell it,” Scott mumbled, kicking through crushed cans and shattered wine bottles.

  Cody nodded. It was true. The crisp air was tinged with the sooty aroma of fire, making the experience all the more real.

  “Hey check this out,” Scott said picking up a crumpled, mould-covered photograph from the debris. “You think this is them? The homeowners?”

  Cody looked at the picture, which showed an older man and woman of around sixty sitting on a beach.

  “No, I don’t think so. They were younger. Maybe one of their parents or something?”

  Cody stopped, the wind ruffling his hair and pushing the charred smell towards him again.

  “Front door would have been here,” Cody said to the camera as he panned from right to left, zooming in on some of the more choice graffiti. He stepped over the threshold, the ground crunching underfoot with unidentified burned things.

  “Are you sure you should be in there?” Scott asked as he lingered behind. Since they’d arrived, he had become more and more withdrawn and nervous, and was now staring wide-eyed at his friend.

  “This would have been the living room, this is where they found the body of Donovan the…”

  Cody stopped mid-sentence and lowered the camera.

  “What is it, what do you see?”

  “Come take a look at this,” Cody called over his shoulder, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the floor.

  “I’m fine out here, just tell me what it is.”

  “You have to see it for yourself. This is unbelievable.”

  The excitement in Cody’s voice finally overrode Scott’s fear, and he too crossed the threshold and stood beside his friend.

  The debris had been swept aside from what was once the living room floor, revealing the charred floorboards beneath. Painted on them in thick red paint was a pentagram surrounded by roughly daubed runes and symbols. Encircling the outer perimeter of the symbol were the bones of countless animals. Most of them looked like they had belonged to birds, however there were a few larger feline-like skulls too. On the remaining half-toppled fireplace wall, penned in the same paint, were five words which were chilling in their simplicity.

  THE CIRCLE IS THE ANSWER!

  The ‘R’ in the last word extended down the chimney breast and angled into an arrow pointing through the back of the house and on to the gurgling river at the bottom of the overgrown garden.

  “This is insane,” Cody whispered, making sure to record both symbol and text in great detail on the video camera.

  “What do you think? Devil-worshipers?” Scott said while staring at the macabre floor painting.

  “Could be,” Cody mused, swinging the camera around the rest of the broken-down room. “This would be a good place to do it. Why don’t we—”

  Both boys snapped their heads towards the trees, which were rocking in the breeze, the leaves joining in song as they hissed and finally settled.

  “Did you hear that?” Scott asked, his eyes wide as he clutched his hands together in front of him.

  “It was just the wind,” Cody replied, unsure who he was trying to convince.

  “Come on man, we’ve seen enough. How about we get out of here?”

  Cody looked to the spiky writing on the wall and down towards the water at the bottom of what was once the back garden.

  “But we came all this way…”

  Scott felt his stomach knot, because he knew his friend well enough to read the bright inquisitiveness in his eyes. He dragged his eyes away from Cody and through to the ruins of the house to the garden. He could hear the river gurgling on its way down to where it would eventually connect with Freeport and from there empty into the ocean. The river didn’t concern him though. His concentration was fully on the twisted, overhanging trees on the opposite side of the water.

  “No way man,” Scott said, taking a cautious step back. “I’m not going over there.”

  “You afraid?” Cody sneered.

  “Yeah, actually I am. Who knows what kind of weirdos could be over there? Maybe the people who drew that thing on the floor are over there right now.”

  “Nah, this isn’t new. Looks like it’s been here a while.”

  “You don’t know for sure. Come on, we came, we saw the place. Let’s get out of here.”

  “You go if you want, I came here to investigate. I have to see it all.”

  “Cody…”

  “Just get out of here if it’s what you want. I ain’t no chickenshit, so I’m going over there to take a look.”

  Cody walked through the remains of the building, looking at the debris-littered floors and imagining how the house had once looked. Scott watched him go for a brief moment, torn as to what to do. The wind tousled his hair, and he gave the trees another nervous glance as his friend continued to pick his way through the debris. He wanted to go back, of that there was no doubt, but just not on his own. He didn’t want to spend any time by himself anywhere near this place, not after the things he’d heard. The knot in his stomach tightened further as he saw Cody step out of what would have been the back of the house and into the hip-high grass beyond. Scott glanced at the pentagram, the writing on the wall, then back the way he came.

  “Hey, hey man, wait up,” he said, his voice hoarse as he hurried through the house, skirting around the bigger charred pieces while being careful not to step on the glass or blackened exposed nails littering the floor. Free of the bulk of the detritus, he hurried to catch up to his friend.

  II

  The river was incredibly loud as they stood at its edge, looking into the swirling black waters. Cody hopped up on a cut-down tree stump and began to film the remains of the house while Scott kept a wary eye on the trees on the opposite bank.

  “Doesn’t look like much from here, does it?”

  Scott didn’t answer. It was colder down by the water and, although he was away from the house, it didn’t make him feel any better. He glanced over to the fallen tree trunk, which spanned the length of the river.

  “Who do you suppose did that?” he asked. Cody switched off the camera and hooked the strap over his neck.

  “Kids probably. Who knows?”

  Scott nodded as Cody shook his rucksack off his back and started fishing inside.

  “Drink?” he said, holding a bottle of water out.

  “No, I’m good,” Scott mumbled.

  He shrugged and took a sip himself, pushed the bottle back in beside the wire-cutters, and slung the bag back onto his shoulder.

  “You up for going across?”

  Every fiber in Scott’s body screamed out against it, yet he really had no other choice unless he wanted to be left alone.

  “Yeah, why not. Like you said, there’s nothing over there to be scared of.”

  “Co
me on, let’s go,” Cody said, beaming and striding towards the tree spanning the icy water. He tested his weight on the trunk, hopped up onto it and began crossing. Scott still hesitated. He glanced back at the remains of the house and then to his friend, who was now almost halfway across. He felt the wind nudge him in the back, almost imagining it was pushing him onwards. Pulling his hat tighter around his ears, Scott followed his friend onto the makeshift bridge.

  III

  There were no devil-worshipers or any of the other abominations Scott had imagined on the other side of the river. They were following a natural trail cutting through the trees, and now he was over his initial fears he had actually started to relax. The chill wind barely penetrated the dense tree canopy, and he was enjoying the sound of nature as it went about its business despite their intrusion. Even Cody seemed a little less intense, and was content for now to walk the barely visible trail with his hands thrust into his pockets.

  Shades of yellow, brown and green grew increasingly dense on the ground as the winter trees shed their leaves in a dry, brown rain.

  “Do you know where we are?” Scott said, almost losing his footing on a moss-covered stone buried under the layer of leaves.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Cody mumbled.

  “What does the GPS say?”

  “It’s stopped working.”

  Scott jogged to catch up, pulling alongside his friend.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s dead,” Cody replied, handing the phone over.

  Scott examined it, seeing that the phone was switched off. He tried to power it back on to no avail. Cody looked straight ahead, leading them deep into the forest, his eyes flicking at the trees every few seconds as they went ever deeper.

  “Cody, do you even know where we are?”

  “Yes,” he muttered.

  “How?”

  “I just… know.”

  “Hey,” Scott said, grabbing his friend by the shoulder. “What’s going on man? You seem weird.”

  Cody blinked, and Scott couldn’t help but notice how dazed his friend appeared to be.

  “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “Just a little bit spooked I think.”

  Scott nodded. Earlier, such an admission of fear would have been cause for jibes or laughter, but not anymore. Not when they were standing so close to those branches which resembled long, clawed arms now they were mostly devoid of their leaves.

  “That must be it,” Cody said, nodding to a break in the trees ahead. “Let’s go take a look, and then we can get out of here.”

  The duo moved towards the clearing, neither in so much of a rush now they were leaving the overhanging canopy behind. Scott had expected to see a shrine, maybe the remains of sacrificial animals left by crazy devil-worshiping kids. His immediate reaction was disappointment. The circular clearing was barren. For all the greenery around them, Scott couldn’t see a single plant growing from the earth within the eighty-foot diameter clearing. Even though there was no visual stimulus, both boys felt the change in atmosphere. It was thick and heavy, the word greasy springing to Scott’s mind, reminding of the countless times he had walked in on his mother and father post-argument, and how there would be an awkward, uncomfortable vibe in the air.

  “Look at the trees…” Cody whispered.

  Scott was unsure at first what his friend was getting at, until he looked harder and saw it. They didn’t grow inside the circle. Branches which reached towards sunlight curved away from the inner perimeter of the clearing and grew back into the forest, leaving a dense and almost impenetrable outer perimeter.

  Scott could feel his heart thundering as he glanced at Cody. Neither of them said anything, even if both had noticed the absolute silence surrounding them. Cody stepped into the circle, bravado forgotten as he walked towards the center.

  Scott followed, conscious of just how loud his every movement was.

  “I don’t like it here,” Scott whispered.

  Cody nodded. He was starting to feel nauseous, and was sure as he looked into the twisted mass of trees that he was being watched from within the shadows. Even the air was sour, and carried a bitter taste—

  Blood

  —which left a nasty, coppery film in the back of the throat. Other than the two boys, the circle was a sterile anomaly, utterly devoid of anything resembling life. A slight breeze pushed towards them, briefly interrupting the silence. There was a smell on its edge, a kind of sweet rot which wasn’t exactly repulsive. Visions of soft, overripe fruit jumped into Scott’s mind. Cody could only think of blood.

  He had removed the heavy wire-cutters from his bag, although he didn’t know why. He looked at his friend, who was too busy looking for movement in the trees, then down at the tool in his hand. He felt as if he was trapped underwater, and everything around him had become slow and muted.

  Everything apart from the whispers in his head.

  They were perfectly clear, as were the things they were telling him to do. He shifted his gaze to Scott, tightening his grip on the wire-cutters. Images of blood fired into his mind’s eye, and he quite clearly saw Scott lying on the ground, his face a pulpy mess, his open stomach cavity steaming as their warm contents met the cold air. He could see it distinctly. He took a half-step towards his friend. Cody envisioned the noise it would make, a thunderous wet crunch as steel met skull over and over again.

  The wind spoke, and Cody listened.

  Moving with more grace and absolute silence than he ever thought possible, he took another half step forwards and clenched tighter on the heavy wire-cutters.

  “Hey! Hey you kids!”

  The spell was broken by the voice of the security guard rolling across the circle. Cody blinked, and realized what he was about to do. He staggered back as Scott turned towards him.

  “Shit, run man, run!”

  The two turned and crashed into the undergrowth, running from the security guard, who was at the opposite side of the clearing and trying in vain to drag his dog into the circle so he could pursue. The tan Alsatian refused, digging its claws into the dirt and pulling away, whimpering all the while.

  Scott and Cody sprinted through the trees. Scott was just running from the security guard, Cody however was fleeing something else entirely. He was fleeing the voices which had almost made him kill his companion.

  CHAPTER 4

  Edgar Rollins lived in a converted townhouse on the outskirts of Oakwell. Set in two acres of land, it afforded him privacy and was, by Oakwell standards, a luxurious property paid for in the most part by the U.S. military post-retirement. Although he always made a point of making sure his appearance was pristine when in public, the second he was in the house and the tie loosened, he would finally relax. He heard the car pull up outside the house and knew before he even heard the sharp rat a tat tat on the door exactly who it would be. Pausing the TV, Rollins pushed out of his leather recliner and answered the door.

  “I had a feeling it might be you,” he said as he looked his visitor up and down. Marshall said nothing, and simply stood, hands in pockets. “Well, you better come in.”

  Rollins walked back towards the sitting room and un-paused the TV as Marshall entered and shut the door. The house suited its occupant perfectly. Everything screamed bachelor. It was clean and tidy, yet not the same kind of tidy a woman’s touch could bring. The sitting room was adorned with photos from the army, and a few of his now ex-wife and estranged grandchildren. In the center of the room, with his feet up on a stool as he watched the evening news, Edgar looked like a different person to the sharp-toned, straight-backed councilor from earlier. He looked like a tired old man.

  “If you came here to get the skinny on your little request earlier, you know I’m not supposed to tell you until the meeting tomorrow,” Rollins said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

  “I hoped you might give me a little advance warning. Friend to friend.”

  Rollins snorted and took a sip of his beer. Henry wasn’t sure if it was just th
e lighting, or the fact Rollins was in an environment he was comfortable in, yet somehow the man definitely looked older and smaller than before.

  “Come on, Edgar, what’s the verdict?” Marshall said, forcing himself to smile.

  “Well, let’s just say I hope you didn’t pay the Jones kid for the land yet.”

  “You’re rejecting me?”

  “We didn’t feel the time was right for you to start some half-assed project which could be a disaster for the town. We figure we can ride this out if we just keep control of the situation.”

  “We already lost control. I thought it was obvious to everyone by now. Was the decision unanimous?”

  “Does it matter? Majority ruled against. That’s all you need to know. This town needs stability Henry, not some goddamn eyesore of a hotel to encourage more of these stupid kids to come here.”

  Marshall crossed to the mantle, looking over photographs of a much younger, much less bitter Edgar Rollins. He crossed to the sofa and perched on its edge, interlocking his hands.

  “Are you sure you made the right decision, Edgar?”

  “I’m sure, and I don’t intend on changing my mind either.”

  Marshall nodded, and looked at Rollins in profile as he stared at the TV screen. It was almost as if he was withering by the second. Marshall’s eyes flicked to Edgar’s trembling right hand, then smiled as he leaned back in his seat.

  “It’s a shame, a real shame. I hoped you would have seen things from my point of view.”

  “Well, that’s life,” Rollins snapped, glaring at Marshall before returning his eyes to the TV. “Sometimes it kicks us in the balls and we just have to wait until the pain goes away.”

  “Yes, I suppose so. Just like the summer of 89 in Florida, right, Edgar?”

  Rollins flicked his eyes from the TV and glared at Marshall. “How do you know about that?”

  “I know a lot of things about a lot of people. The things I don’t know, I find out.”

  “I’ll report you for this, trying to force a decision with a fellow council member is unethical, not to mention not allowed,” Rollins hissed, the vein in his neck throbbing as he clenched his fists on the arm rests.