by Matt Drabble
“Well, now; wasn’t that interesting.”
Michael and Emily turned slowly back towards the rising Casper in terror; the hole through his chest was already closed. Only the blood-stained mess of his clothing gave testament that it had ever existed.
“You know, I’ve never been shot by one of these modern weapons,” Casper said, retrieving the revolver from the ground where Michael had dropped it and turning it over in his hands. “It isn’t all that pleasant, to be perfectly honest.”
“What the hell are you, Casper?” Michael asked, shocked and stunned.
“Oh please, call me Tolan; it’s been such a long time since anyone used my real name.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Thom moved reluctantly back towards the open space and away from the safety of the dark abandoned streets. The only bright spot of the evening had been that his mother had answered her phone from the road. He had been calling her on and off for most of the day to no avail. She had purchased him a cell phone for emergency use only; although Eden had always been a safe haven, after the incident with Mr. Stark, his teacher, she had wanted him to be able to reach her at any time. When he’d finally reached her, he was relieved beyond measure to find that she was on the road. Apparently, Casper had sent her away in his own luxurious car on important business to Hanton. He desperately hoped that she wouldn’t return until after this whole mess was resolved one way or the other.
Whilst it seemed like most of the town were in attendance on the square, he knew that many others were turning in for an early night, inexplicably tired and sleeping the sleep of those with blind eyes turned. It was this dereliction of duty that had enabled him to creep unobserved through the unlocked stores.
He could feel the waves of crazy washing over him, even at this distance, and there was a large part of him that wanted to join them. He wanted to be saved, to worship. He wanted to belong and be loved. He angrily shook the invading feelings away with thoughts of his father. His father had been taken from him, stolen by the town and by Casper and he felt a very reasonable stab of anger and frustration. He was just a kid, just a skinny fourteen year old that had never gotten past second base and now he was expected to save the world.
The bottles chinked together worryingly and noisily in the backpack that he now carried. The liquids sloshed around in the containers he tried to carry carefully. The smell was unpleasant, as several containers spilled their contents into the bag, but he could only hope that it would work. He heard the four gunshots as he approached the square; whatever was going on there was clearly taking the full attention of the town. He could only hope that if there had been four shots, then hopefully that would not mean that they were meant for Michael and Emily. He found it hard to believe that so much trouble would have been taken to involve Michael and Emily in such an elaborate and theatrical setting, only to shoot them.
He had headed for the closest restaurant on Main Street, one that he knew carried a liquor license. The “Seafarer” was a popular eatery for many of the residents. It was one of the more formal restaurants in town, operating exclusively in the evening hours. As such, it was one of the few places where people would regularly drink alcohol and one of their specialties was the extensive range of liquor coffees.
A thought had dawned on Thom; the entire town was dominated by the woodland, both literally and metaphorically. The town was founded by loggers; the original finances had all derived from the timber mill and the town revolved around those damn dark trees. Every building in Eden was a timber construction and the roots of the forest sank deeply beneath the town. Their twisted, rotting limbs took a crushing grip on the thoughts and minds of the people here and their influence was dark and unmistakable. This “Woodland Festival” was proving yet another indicator of the reach of the forest. The trees were worshipped, and Casper led the congregation. The forest was far reaching; it stretched to the heavens and was deep, dark and dangerous. But a forest was made of trees, and trees can burn.
He had found a large backpack in the staff changing rooms of the “Seafarer”; it was left in an unsurprisingly open locker. The bag was blue and held the logo of some football team printed on the side that Thom did not recognise. He had quickly scanned the bar area of the restaurant; he had pretty much zero experience with alcohol, but he knew that only some would be highly flammable. Once - what seemed like a million years ago - his father had taken them all to a restaurant back in LA for his tenth birthday. The evening had been a pleasant one; his parents had been happy and content in each other’s company and the food had been his first attempt at an adult-sized portion. The evening stuck out in his memory now, because at the next table the couple had ordered a flaming dessert. The Crepes Suzette had arrived amidst the oohs and ahhs of the surrounding tables and his father had explained to him that the orange smelling liquid was a Grand Marnier-based sauce. He had watched in awe as the flames danced and swirled before the couple had eaten the sizzling crepes. He had searched the shelves of the “Seafarer” for a bottle of Grand Marnier. A single tear spilled onto his cheek as he thought of his father and he hoped to watch the flames dance again.
He now eased his way through the trees that grew thickly on one side of the square behind the bandstand, meaning to approach in a clandestine manner. He peered through the thick foliage and saw the dead bodies lying strewn around a creepy looking table sitting beneath the bandstand. He could see two bodies dead on the floor and dressed in weird white robes, whilst a fourth female figure was moving ever so slightly, still alive. He could see the sheriff or what was left of him; the head was largely missing, but the size of the body was unmistakable. Michael and Emily were close together by the altar and Casper was standing before them. Casper’s white suit was massively stained and shredded down the front with what looked like blood, but he appeared unharmed and even jovial.
Thom reached behind him into the backpack that he had found at the restaurant; on closer inspection, it was a faded Georgetown Hoya’s logo on the bag. He had seven bottles in the bag. He had only been able to find two bottles of Grand Marnier, but he had spread the contents as far as he could. He’d mixed any other strong smelling liquid that he had been able to find: vodka, whisky, and bourbon had all been sloshed around together. He wasn’t sure just what was the most flammable, but he figured what the hell, hopefully they would all burn. He watched enough television to have seen Molotov cocktails being hurled flaming through the air, whether during movies or riots. He had taken a large handful of paper napkins from the restaurant. He twisted the first one and dipped one end into an opened bottle, pulled it out and inserted the other end, leaving enough sticking out to light. He repeated the process until he had seven deadly missiles.
He watched Casper through the trees and hatred filled his young mind. His father was gone, presumably buried in some shallow grave, unmarked and unvisited, all at the hands of Casper or one of his underlings. His mind was full of his father and rage; in that moment he no longer cared about anything but revenge. It was a childish notion, but he was still a child after all.
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Emily stared at the man calling himself Tolan. “That’s not possible,” she stated. “You can’t be Tolan; that would make you over two hundred years old.”
“And then some,” Tolan agreed with a smile.
“It’s not possible,” Michael added defiantly.
“Oh, really?” Tolan answered. “You can believe your eyes but not your ears?”
“How can you be Tolan?” Emily said.
“I told you, Mrs. Torrance; this place is blessed by the hand of God himself, and I am his emissary. He speaks through me and I carry out his will on earth. Everything is possible here in Eden. I am afforded little luxuries in order to facilitate my work. Every true member of our little congregation ages slower, but I age but much slower than others. It is a gift. It is a sign that our town is protected by his hand, but we must refresh from time to time.”
“Why me? Why us?” Emily dema
nded.
“Oh, you were selected specially, Mrs. Torrance. We take great care here. Only the best and brightest are chosen and called.”
“But we only came here after … after…” Emily began, already fearing the worst. “You! You were responsible for the accident back in the UK! You took our baby!” she spat.
“Well, not me personally,” Tolan laughed. “I’m not about to go globe-trotting, joy riding random cars.”
“But it was your hand, wasn’t it?” Emily stared daggers. “The accident, our baby. Why me?”
“Have you never done a family tree, Mrs. Torrance? They really are most fascinating. I’m sure that if you go back far enough you will find that yours is a bloodline that intersects through our very first sacrifice. I was always fond of tradition. It only seems fitting. All that was required was for you to sign a contract of willingness; it’s a pesky little clause that all sacrifices must be made willingly.”
“But I never signed anything,” Emily said defiantly.
“Ah, yes, a little subterfuge, I’m afraid. Over the years it has become more and more difficult to find willing recruits,” Tolan explained regretfully.
“Go figure,” Emily said sarcastically.
“I know,” Tolan replied seriously. “Well I’ve found that a willing signature is all that’s really required. As long as the intention is pure and the participant is agreeable, then it doesn’t really matter whether or not people know what they are signing.”
“The lease,” Emily said suddenly understanding. “You had me sign a second copy of the lease on the day that we moved in, but it wasn’t really a house lease was it?
“I’m afraid not,” Tolan smiled.
“You signed a document without reading it?” Michael said incredulously. “Why the hell wouldn’t you have checked it first?”
“I thought it was the house lease,” Emily shrugged.
“Well guess what? It wasn’t,” Michael said testily.
“Is this really the time?” Emily snapped, nodding towards Tolan.
Tolan turned his attention to Michael. “You, Michael, are just the sort of man we need.” He looked over at the near-headless sheriff. “We appear to have an opening,” he smirked.
“And why exactly would I want to live here and work for you?” Michael asked in disbelief.
“Think about what I can offer you, Michael; an endless lifetime of pleasures beneath a perfect sky, prosperity and luxury forever – well, almost forever.” He smiled. “Members of my inner circle can live a hundred lifetimes, Michael.”
“And all I have to do is commit the occasional sacrifice, starting with my own wife?”
“Exactly,” Tolan beamed.
“Go fuck yourself, all the way to hell and back again, whatever the hell your name is.”
“Well, you can’t say that I didn’t ask,” Tolan said, his good nature unaffected. “Sarah-Jane, why don’t you be a good girl and pass me that axe and we can get started? Time’s-a-wasting, I’m afraid.”
Emily turned towards her former friend who stood slowly and doubtfully, the axe still hanging from her grasp. “SJ, what happened to Samuel? What did he make you do to him?” Emily watched as the doctor’s name struck home and SJ began to cry softly, gentle tears falling onto to her puffy cheeks.
“I had to,” Sarah-Jane mumbled softly. “You don’t understand, Ems; he gets in your head. He gets in there until it’s the only thing that you can hear any more. The whole world stops turning and there’s only him,” she sobbed. “Only him.” She turned to Tolan.
“Come come, dear; let’s have no more of this silliness,” Tolan said, motioning Sarah-Jane forward impatiently. “Give me the axe.”
“Think, SJ,” Emily pleaded. “Think about Samuel, think about everything that you wanted with him. Think about everything that you dreamt of: a life, a marriage, children. Think about everything that they took from you. What HE stole from you!” She pointed at Tolan accusingly.
Sarah-Jane faltered as she stepped to Tolan. She looked down at the axe swinging in her hand as though she was actually seeing it for the very first time. Her mind caught glimpses of memories flattened and repressed. She had gone to the doctor’s and found Samuel in the basement. She had startled him and he had screamed an inappropriately high-pitched scream. He had laughed at his embarrassment, and then he had seen the axe that she was holding. His expression had turned to puzzlement before she had swung it, and his expression then became one of terror. Her mind filled with images of him falling, of the blood and death, all at her hands. For the first time in a long time, her thoughts were her own, and she knew exactly what had been stolen from her, and by whom.
Emily watched as Tolan’s face changed to bewilderment at this unexpected treachery. His forehead crinkled and his eyes lowered. “Give it to me, you silly girl,” he commanded.
And Sarah-Jane did; the axe swung hard with the power of hurt, loss, love and betrayal. The sharp weapon struck Tolan powerfully in the neck; the honed edge buried itself into flesh, and blood spouted like a fountain. Tolan collapsed to his knees, his voice gurgling and struggling as his throat was torn open. His hands clasped helplessly at the wound as it sprayed a red mist into the air.
Michael saw the chance for escape; he had no doubt that the creature before them would soon heal himself and rise again. After blowing a hole right through the centre of Tolan and watching it close before his eyes, all they had left was to run. He was about to drag Emily away when a sudden explosion of movement from the trees caught his attention. He turned towards Thom as he burst forth.
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Thom had watched in horror as the chubby teacher buried the axe in Tolan’s neck. The blade sank itself deep and nearly severed the man’s head. Thom had heard Casper’s pronouncements about his true identity; he was claiming to actually be Tolan himself. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation, if it wasn’t for the gathered hypnotized masses, the bodies lying in strange robes and a man resurrected from a fatal gunshot wound. Thom’s head was already too full of fictional nightmares brought to life. His mind narrowed his vision and selected only the path ahead and what had to be done. He struck a match from the pack that wore the “Seafarer” logo that he had taken from the restaurant. The napkin burst into flames instantly and he threw the bottle in a drunken arc with a panicked burst of adrenaline. The Molotov smashed into the wooden bandstand, spraying flaming liquid across the roof. The flames jumped angrily and began great greedy licks up the pillars. The dark wood was suddenly ablaze and the bodies of Eddie, Morgan, and the sheriff were soon being consumed. Thom lit more bottles and threw them towards the surrounding trees. Before long, the whole town square was encased in hungry flames and choking smoke fumes. The effect on the crowd was sudden and violent as people began stampeding away from the spreading fire. Thom could hear moans and screams as the less athletic were trampled underfoot.
“Michael!” Thom yelled, waving towards him.
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Michael caught sight of Thom waving frantically across the grass; he grabbed Emily and pulled her with him and away from the flaming bandstand. He looked back at Tolan, who was already struggling to his feet and trying to wrench the axe from his neck, encouraging a crimson burst.
“MOVE!” he snapped at his wife, dragging her painfully. Incomprehensively, Tolan was already starting to look as though he was healing; the reason returned to his eyes which were now full of a feral rage. “QUICKLY! QUICKLY!” Michael screamed, panicked.
They ran across the wet grass. The sky was now filled with thick black smoke and the heat was unbearable as the fire jumped from tree to tree, aided by an unusually helpful wind that had sprung from nowhere. Emily staggered behind him, running as fast as her heavily swelled bulk would allow. They reached Thom and Michael could see that the young man’s face was shaken and scared, but he was still there. Michael grabbed him in a clumsy embrace and Thom buried his face in his chest. The stench of alcohol was overpowering but there was a
nother odour mixed in; something familiar.
“Thom,” Michael asked, “is that gas I can smell?”
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The night was suddenly shattered in an explosion that dwarfed the small town. Every face turned towards Main Street as the sky turned red. The fleeing crowd were suddenly driven into a mad frenzy as they bolted like wild cattle, scattering in all directions. Familiar faces were wild-eyed with terror and confusion. They clawed and kicked their way free from the flames and smoke, and free from the sudden intruding thoughts that threatened to awaken them from their slumber.
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Thom had left the Seafarer restaurant with his bounty of flammable missiles; he’d also left behind a gift for the town - a gift from his father. He’d spotted that the large commercial ovens were on the gas mains and he had dragged the smallest one forward. He’d struggled with the weight but he had refused to be denied, finally managing to pull the oven a few inches away from the wall. He could then see that behind the oven was a metal flexible hose poking out. He had tried unscrewing the hose but the metallic cylinder hadn’t given an inch. Growing frustrated, he’d began kicking the connection frantically, knowing that time was already growing short. Suddenly, the hose had given way and the unmistakable hiss and smell of the gas had assaulted his nostrils. He’d left the kitchen of the restaurant and paused by the bar. Taking one of the bottles of brandy, he’d spilled the contents over the wooden bar and left a trail towards the front door. He’d lit the liquid path and watched as the flames raced along the trail, engulfing the wooden bar counter. A stab of vicious anger filled him as he’d left; the wood behind him burned and waited for the gas to reach the flames.
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Michael could only stare at the spectacle before him; the large building along Main Street was overwhelmed by the flames as they touched the sky. He could see the fire leap from one building to another, consuming ravenously as it danced. The buildings were all wooden in town and he could already see that the whole street would soon be ablaze and he felt the same vicious stab of cold anger that Thom had felt earlier.
