by Ron Ripley
He shrugged, finished his cigarette, and stubbed it out on the stairwell. Sighing, he slipped the shirt back on and said, “Courtney.”
“What’s up?” the young woman asked, stepping away from the doorway.
“We need to go down to George’s boat, together,” Shane said. “There should be some emergency supplies, a flare gun, and all that good stuff.”
“Okay,” Courtney said. She switched the cudgel from one hand to the other.
“Why do you need the flare gun?” Amy asked.
“So we can signal the Coast Guard,” Shane said. “If they’re not on their way already, the flare gun will definitely light a fire under them.”
“You can’t,” Amy said, horrified. “She’s not ready yet.”
“Perfect timing then,” Shane said with a grin.
“You can’t!” Amy shrieked.
Shane winked at her, turned away, and said to Courtney, “Ready?”
Courtney nodded, and together they left the lighthouse. Behind them, Amy screamed furiously.
Chapter 53: Waiting for Dorothy
Amy dropped her chin to her chest and sobbed. She was enraged.
They’ll try and ruin it all, she thought. They’ll destroy every last bit of it. Everything!
The temperature in the lighthouse dropped and the locket around her neck grew cold, her breastbone aching painfully from the touch of the metal.
Amy whimpered and forced herself to look up.
Dorothy stood in front of her. Beside her was the shattered remains of a man. Amy kept her eyes focused on her great-grandmother.
“Amy,” Dorothy said.
“Yes?” Amy’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“You came back to finish off George?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes.”
“But you did not,” Dorothy said.
Amy couldn’t respond. She shivered with fear.
“One of the new children did,” Dorothy said after a moment. “The one named Eileen. She took care of George for us.”
Amy looked up at her great-grandmother, unable to contain her surprise. “She did?”
Dorothy nodded.
“What about Shane?” Amy asked fearfully. “What about the girl, Courtney?”
“What of them?” Dorothy asked. “We’ve only to slay them both. He will look like a murderer, and then another suicide. It is a task which is easy enough to manage.”
“And what about me?” Amy asked. “Will you untie me?”
Dorothy shook her head. “You must stay bound. Perhaps for a day, perhaps less. You need to be found as you are. Only then will you be able to play the role of victim. The deaths of the man named George, his colleagues, and those from the yacht. All of them can then be laid at the feet of Shane. It is he who will be the suicide victim this time.”
Amy nodded. “So I wait.”
“So you wait,” Dorothy agreed. “Now this one and I must carry out the rest of the task. Be at ease, child; you have done our family proud.”
Amy blushed with pride. Dorothy and the mutilated man vanished. The locket on around her neck grew warm. Soon the chill of the room was replaced by the warm June air.
Smiling, Amy closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the discomfort of her arms and wrists.
Chapter 54: A Missing Light
Chief Petty Officer Al Arsenault looked out at Squirrel Island.
The lighthouse was dark. The signal from the island’s service program was correct. Something was wrong with the lantern.
He turned away from the window, picked up the phone and called Captain Root at home. Al quickly informed her of the situation, and the Captain responded in the same fashion. In less than two minutes, the phone call was over, and Al turned to Seaman Mauser.
“Mauser,” Al said.
The young man looked up from a battered paperback. “Chief?”
“Call down to Zucci, let him know we need the patrol boat readied,” Al said, sitting down at his desk.
“Aye, Chief,” Mauser said.
Al took a drink of his coffee. Mauser made the call, then he looked over at Al and said, “Zucci wants to know who we need?”
Al put his mug down and said, “We’ll need at least a two-person tech crew. Light’s out on Squirrel Island. May be just a couple of wires, or it may be the lantern itself.”
Mauser nodded and relayed the information, then hung up the phone. “Anything else, Chief?”
“Yeah,” Al said, finishing his drink. “Put another pot on, will you, Mauser? Looks like it’s going to be a long night.”
“You got it, Chief.” The young man got up and left the office. Al went to the window again and looked out at Squirrel Island. He’d been there a few times, and each occasion was something he’d rather forget.
The place was cold.
Bad luck, Al thought. A Jonah’s place if ever there was one. Nothing but death there. The quicker this is done, the better.
Mauser returned a short time later. “Coffee should be ready in about five, Chief.”
Al nodded his thanks, but he didn’t move away from the window. The lighthouse was a dark silhouette against the stars. The sea had calmed down, the waves no longer rough.
Al yawned, and the phone rang. Mauser answered it and said, “Zucci says the boat’s ready whenever you are. The crew is already aboard.”
“Good,” Al said, turning away from the window. “Tell Zucci I’ll be down there in five minutes.”
Mauser nodded and relayed the message.
Al took his travel mug off of his desk and brought it into the staff room.
Well, he thought, let’s get this done with.
Chapter 55: Strange News
Marie Lafontaine sat in her chair, a glass of wine in her hand as she watched the ten o’clock news. She was only half listening, more focused on whether or not she could finish her drink before she had to go to bed. The day had been long and frustrating. A witness had recanted their statement, and another person had overdosed on heroin.
In the tot-lot playground on Ash Street, Marie thought, shaking her head.
The words ‘mysterious disappearance’ were spoken by the newscaster and caught Marie’s attention. She listened as the reporter talked about how a gatekeeper at a marina in Maine had disappeared from work.
The news station used a stock photo of the marina. Beyond the docked boats and wooden pier, Marie caught sight of something which sent a bitter fear through her. The Squirrel Island lighthouse formed part of the backdrop.
Marie picked up her cellphone and called Amy. It went right to voicemail. She ended the call, got up, and walked over to her laptop. Marie did a quick search for more information on the disappearance, but she received nothing more than the man’s name and basic history.
She frowned and then searched for information on the empty yacht which was found. The articles she found all agreed on one particular point.
No bodies had been found. No lifeboat. No distress signal sent out.
The crew was still missing.
Did Amy get this guy to bring her out to the island to check on Shane? Marie wondered. But wouldn’t he have told someone?
Something’s wrong, Marie realized. Terribly wrong.
She knocked back the last of her wine, put the empty glass on the desk beside the laptop, and made her way to the bedroom.
It was time to drive to Maine.
Chapter 56: Slipping Away
Although Courtney felt better to be with Shane, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe all of her troubles would be solved by being with him.
Mom always told you to rely on yourself, Courtney thought. Don’t expect a prince to come and rescue you.
Courtney looked at Shane and grinned.
No, she thought, he’s no prince. More like a hired gunman than anything else.
And Courtney liked that about him.
As they made their way towards the pier, she forced herself to pay attention. George’s boat was still visible, still par
tially submerged.
And still completely useless, she thought, sighing.
They reached the pier and Shane led them swiftly to the boat. At its side, he paused, turned, and said, “Stop here, Courtney.”
“Why?” she asked, halting a few feet from him.
“Because it’s bad,” he said. “Terribly so.”
“I can help,” Courtney said, the words coming out quickly.
“You do help, and you will,” Shane said, not looking away from her. “I just don’t think you need to see any more bodies.”
“More bodies?” Courtney asked. “I thought it was only George.”
“And the man who brought Amy here this morning,” Shane said.
“What about him?” Courtney said.
“She blew his brains out,” Shane said. “Bullet to the back of the skull. Exit through the front. His brains and skull are everywhere.”
“Oh,” Courtney said. She glanced at the boat, but she didn’t try to look in it. “You’ll be able to find what you need without me going on board?”
“Yes,” Shane said. “Stay here, and stay safe.”
She nodded. Shane stepped forward, embraced her, and then stepped away. She watched as he climbed up onto the deck. Soon he was gone, and she could hear him rummaging through the interior of the boat. Long minutes passed, and she shifted her attention constantly from the boat to the pier, from the pier to the lighthouse, from the lighthouse to the cabin, and then back again.
“Got it!” Shane called up.
Courtney heard his feet on the ladder and in a second, he was back on the deck. He had an emergency kit in his hands. She took it from him, and he climbed down to stand on the dock. They sat down, opened the kit, and looked at the materials inside. Among the emergency supplies, they found a small strobe light, emergency rations, a flare gun, and a compressed emergency raft with instructions on how to inflate it. It even had a collapsible paddle.
“Perfect,” Shane said softly.
“How so?” Courtney asked.
“The raft,” Shane said, looking at her. “We’re going to inflate it, get you a life vest from the boat, and send you out a little off shore.”
“What?” Courtney said in disbelief. “You can’t be serious?”
“I am,” Shane said. “If you’re in the raft, you can’t be grabbed by the dead. They won’t even care. You’ll be able to use the flare gun, and someone will come and pick you up.”
“What about you?” Courtney asked. “You can’t stay here by yourself.”
“I have to,” Shane said. “I have to take care of Dorothy, and you need to tell whoever picks you up that it’s Amy’s fault. All of it.”
“Do I try to tell them about the ghosts?” Amy asked, and winced at how ridiculous it sounded even to her.
“No,” Shane said, shaking his head. “Don’t tell them about the ghosts. Tell them how you became trapped here, and how she kept you a prisoner.”
“Not much of a stretch there,” Courtney said bitterly.
“No,” Shane agreed, “not much at all.”
“And if they ask me if she killed my friends,” Courtney said, “I’ll tell them yes.”
Shane nodded.
“Are you going to be safe?” Courtney asked him, worry spiking through her as she looked at him.
His face was harsh, the light of the stars and the moon etching shadows on his pale skin. “Probably not,” Shane said. “But we’ll make it work.”
She wanted to say more, but she didn’t.
“Alright,” Shane said softly, “let’s get this started.”
He picked up the raft, pulled the cord, and a sharp hiss sounded as the rubber inflated rapidly. With an easy motion, he dropped it onto the opposite side of the pier, holding onto a long, nylon tether.
Silently Courtney picked up the emergency rations and the flare gun.
“Here,” Shane said, passing the tether to her. “Hold this for a second.”
When she took it, Shane scrambled back onto George’s boat and came back quickly with a life vest. He helped her put it on, tightened the straps across her chest, and smiled at her.
“As soon as you’re in the raft, I’ll pass the paddle to you. I want you to make your way about a hundred yards out. More if you can. Once you’re there, fire off the flare gun, and move out a little more, okay?” he asked.
Courtney nodded.
“Good,” Shane said, smiling. He took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes, and said, “Be safe. Don’t worry about me.”
She went to nod, but he held her still, bent forward, and kissed her full and long on the lips.
“No fear, Courtney,” he whispered. “Fear kills.”
Shane let go, and Courtney went to get into the raft, heart beating fiercely.
Chapter 57: Amongst the Enemy
Only when Shane turned to walk back up the pier did he realize Courtney had left her cudgel.
Too late, he thought grimly, picking the weapon up. He looked back at her in the bright orange circular raft. The strobe light, attached to the top by a cord, pulsed brightly in the night sky. Too dangerous to call her back.
He shook his head at his own forgetfulness and pushed aside thoughts of her being dead because of it. With the cudgel on his shoulder, he reached the end of the pier and paused.
I need to go back into the cellar again, Shane thought. I need to tell the children what their mother’s plan is.
He turned to walk up and around the side of the house and saw them.
Four men.
One was George Fallon, whose eyes were gone. The others were the man’s friends. Both of them looked as well as could be expected, but Shane knew they had been drowned. The fourth was the man who brought Amy back to the island, and the majority of his forehead and orbital sockets were missing.
“And where are you going?” George asked, blindly staring at him.
“Wherever I want,” Shane replied pleasantly. “And yourselves?”
“She wants you dead,” George answered. “It’s not fair that you’re alive, and we’re dead.”
“You know,” Shane said, moving the cudgel off of his shoulder, “I have to say, life, in general, isn’t fair. So, I’m not particularly surprised that death isn’t fair either.”
“You’re going to kill yourself,” one of the other men said, “whether you want to or not.”
“Interesting statement,” Shane said. “Do you have any intention of backing that up?”
The man who had spoken grinned maliciously and walked forward.
Are they stupid enough to attack one at a time? Shane wondered. When the other three remained where they were, Shane grinned and said, “Thank you.”
The approaching man paused, confused. “Why?”
Shane swung the cudgel, full force at him, and the ghost screamed as it tore through.
As their friend vanished, the other three men attacked.
It came fast and hard, and though they lacked the brutality and effectiveness of the Mujahedeen he had faced in Afghanistan, the men were no less determined.
A searing pain ripped through his left arm, and it felt as though someone was trying to tear the muscle off of his bone. Another blow struck his leg and dropped him to a knee while a third blow struck his shoulder, his fingers springing open, the cudgel falling to the ground.
Grimacing, Shane swung his numb right hand, the iron knuckledusters causing the faceless man to vanish. An explosion of pain erupted behind his eyes, and Shane screamed angrily, lashing out with his left hand. The gauntlet made from the hinge shattered George, leaving Shane with the last ghost.
Shane spat on the ground and looked at the man, who glared at Shane.
“How did you do that?” the man hissed.
“Do what?” Shane asked. “Send your little buddies away?”
The man nodded, looking around as if he was expecting help.
“Iron,” Shane said, grinning, the pain in his head receding. “It does a body good.”
Before the man could respond, Shane threw himself forward, the knuckleduster passing through the man.
Shane was left alone on the path, his body aching.
Cellar, he told himself. Get to the cellar, and then deal with Dorothy.
Chapter 58: Shock and Horror
Amy was half in and out of sleep when a cold, hard slap woke her up.
Her eyes snapped open, and she found Dorothy above her. The woman’s face was a mask of rage.
“Who is he?” her great-grandmother roared.
Amy scrambled backward. “Who?”
“Shane, Shane Ryan!” Dorothy hissed, slapping Amy again.
Amy winced, tears springing to her eyes. “I don’t know! My cousin said he had grown up in a haunted house, I had to bring him in because she offered. I couldn’t say no! Why what’s wrong?”
“He did more than grow up in a haunted house,” Dorothy said angrily, turning away. “He knows about iron. He knows how to use it.”
“What about iron?” Amy asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Iron stops us,” Dorothy said. She looked back at Amy. “For the weak ones, they are wounded. Too weak to move forward and attack. The stronger we are, the quicker we recuperate.”
“And if you were hit with iron?” Amy asked fearfully.
Dorothy smiled grimly. “A few minutes, perhaps more. Still, it is not a pleasant experience.”
“What are you going to do?” Amy asked.
“About the intrepid Mr. Ryan?” Dorothy said.
Amy nodded.
“I’m going to kill him,” Dorothy replied. “And not quickly, either. I will drag him down to the water’s edge and drown him by inches.”
Amy smiled and whispered, “I would like that.”
Dorothy looked at her approvingly and left the lighthouse.
Amy watched her great-grandmother go and wished she could watch Shane die.
Chapter 59: A Change in Plans
Since there was no bad weather on deck and no heavy fog for the dawn, Al didn’t feel any particular pressure in getting the patrol boat out to Squirrel Island faster than he needed to.
