by Hunter Shea
Sleep. Sleep was what she needed. A good eight hours. No, make it twelve. Maybe even an entire day. Eddie would take care of the kids. He was stronger than her, more tuned in to the things she’d always prided herself on being the resident expert. Pride goeth before the motherfucker of all falls.
“Stop!”
The man’s voice, hitting octaves reserved for moments of abject fear, shook Jessica from the heavy pull of sleep.
“Go away!”
A girl’s voice. Alice? Followed by, “He’s a bad man. A very bad man.”
Jason!
Her fingernails found the narrow slat between the floorboards as she pulled herself toward the kitchen, inch by agonizing inch.
Eddie felt like the Pied Piper. The dead Ormsby children, victims, every last one, gathered close.
“I’m going to get you all away from this place. I promise. I just need you to follow me. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore.”
The children craned their heads down toward the three graves where his body lay in silent repose. Their confusion pulsed in sonar-like waves. How could this man who was talking to them, standing before them urging them to gather round, also be lying on the cold earth?
There were so many. And he knew some were still roaming about the island or in the house. He felt them, sentinels not daring to leave their posts.
“Come,” he said. “Follow me.”
Eddie dropped back into the graves, once again hovering over cruel, sardonic Nathaniel.
“Last chance to tell me who gave birth to your children,” Eddie said.
“Burned and buried,” Alexander chimed from the parallel grave, pleased with his final act, a false sense of security that he had spared the Ormsby name from the true horror and shame it deserved.
A fat worm wriggled from the corner of Nathaniel’s eye, slinking into the gap between the taut lines that had once been his lips.
“Leave me be,” Nathaniel intoned. “You’ve disturbed enough of my rest as it is. Enjoy the pleasures of the lush island we’ve left behind. We may not have realized our aspirations, but we did produce the finest fertilizer in the world.”
His slow, wicked laughter nearly threw Eddie into an uncontrolled rage. If he didn’t keep his concentration, his body would retrieve him as quickly as a rubber band stretched to its limit. If that happened, he’d fail.
Keeping his calm, he said, “Well, since I can’t seem to make you see the light, I thought I’d bring the light to you. Children, make these men tell you who your mothers are.”
Alexander ceased his mindless prattle. Nathaniel’s aura of twisted superiority washed away like glittering sand in the tide.
The first children snaked their way into their coffins.
“No! Keep away from me! You’re nothing to me! Stay away!” Nathaniel screamed.
Alexander joined the chorus as Eddie elevated from their dark resting places, letting the children flow down, deeper and deeper to prize the truth from the monsters that both made and destroyed them.
“I know it’s a bit late, but happy Father’s Day,” Eddie said, rejoining his body and waking to a headache so severe, he was sure blood vessels were going to burst in his skull.
Groaning, rolling to his side, he looked around.
The woods were dark and empty.
He smiled when he thought he heard the dull thump of bones on wood below.
Tobe hadn’t been shocked to see the thick sheen of ice on the generator. With the way the temperature had been dropping, he should have been checking on it every hour, armed with a blow drier to melt it as fast as it formed.
It was fucked. The ice had to be an inch thick.
He hacked at it with a heavy branch he’d found nearby. The ice wouldn’t give but the branch had split down the middle, the fresh wood forming a dangerously sharp point.
I hope we have enough candles, he thought. There was nothing he could do about the generator until the sun came up. He wasn’t even sure if that would help. Ormsby Island had become a dark, walk-in freezer.
Wait until we get the experts here. This place will blow the mind of every scientist, paranormal nut, man woman and child. You want to know where you go after you die? It isn’t heaven, and death is not the end. It’s all right here, folks. And for a nominal fee, you too can experience the forever.
Yes, things hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. Lord only knew if anything they had filmed was even salvageable. But now, it didn’t matter. They had all the proof they needed, right here on his island.
Turning to go back inside and see what the next fire was to put out, he froze, taking an involuntary step back.
Two ghostly children stood on the patio, holding large knives in their too-small hands. It was hard to focus on their faces, as if an undulating gel swam before them. One moment they were alien—large, silver eyes and open mouths, something not quite right about their bone structure, foreheads a little too high, flat noses spread too thin. The next, snatches of something familiar rose from the ooze, only to be swallowed up again.
The knives they held, there was no dismissing that. The few shards of moonlight glinted off them with deadly certainty.
“What are you doing here?” he said, fingers tightening on the sharp branch.
Can you stab a ghost?
If they come at you, go for the knives! Have to knock the knives out of their little ghost hands. How are they even doing this?
“Go away,” he said, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. “I’m not your enemy. I didn’t do this to you. Step back. Now!”
The children stepped forward, lifting their knives higher.
Hadn’t Jessica said no one’s ever been killed by a ghost? He wished she were here to see this. This would certainly knock her the hell off her high horse.
They came closer. He swung the branch before him, a heavy swoosh cleaving the air between them in two.
Keep your eye on the knives.
One of them ran forward. He lashed out, the jagged point making a high kerang as it connected with the large blade. He grunted with satisfaction as it skittered across the patio.
The other ghost wailed, “No!”
Then another voice. “Stop!”
He turned to face the new intruder.
It was Rusty, his hair gone white as fresh snow.
“He’s a very bad man,” the ghost with the knife wailed, then swung the knife high, running at him.
“Alice, no!” Rusty shouted.
Alice? Tobe squinted at the charging ghost, unable to see any trace of his daughter in the mask of unadulterated madness. All he saw was the knife as it buried itself to the hilt in his thigh. Yowling in hot agony, he brought the branch down as hard as he could.
Chapter Forty-Two
Jessica tumbled over the back door threshold. He hands lashed out, fingers finding the white latticework that framed the door. The mere act of keeping on her feet felt like more than her heart could take. It struggled within her chest, pumping blood to organs and extremities that cried out for rest.
Blinking hard to make the yard come into focus, she gasped at the sight in front of her.
Jason was rolling on the ground, holding his hand, great tears streaming down his face. Tobe reared back from Alice, screaming. When Alice backed away, Jessica saw the knife protruding from her father’s thigh.
In retaliation, Tobe made to crack her skull open with a thick tree branch. Rusty literally jumped between the man and his daughter, taking the brunt of the blow against his upper back. His face smacked against the patio. She heard the sharp snap of his nose shattering, droplets of blood springing from his ruined face like a lawn sprinkler.
Alice shrieked, staring dully at her father.
“Tobe, stop!” Jessica cried. “It’s Alice and Jason! Stop!”
She fell to her knees, the quic
k bursts from her lungs overwhelming her powerless system.
The tree branch paused, high above Alice’s head.
As if waking from a bad dream, the little girl began to sob, small shoulders twitching up and down with each burst of tears.
Tobe stared down at her, really stared, as if trying to make her out through a frosted window. He didn’t drop the branch.
“Daddy,” Jason said, now on his feet and crying as well.
The branch slipped harmlessly from Tobe’s fingers, clattering behind him.
Rusty moaned, pushing himself to all fours, a barrier between father and children.
The kids are safe. The kids are safe, Jessica thought. If she was going to die, at least it would be knowing that Jason and Alice were unharmed, though the psychological scars from a night like this would forever change them. No one knew that better than her.
The cool brick felt wonderful against her cheek. She closed her eyes.
Time to sleep.
Daddy, please, come take me.
Whatever force had been holding the library doors shut suddenly disappeared. They gave way easily on oiled hinges. Daphne ran from the room, nearly hysterical from worry. My babies! Where are my babies!
She slammed hard into someone in the dark, the other person hitting the floor. They felt too big to be one of the children.
“Go home, go home, go home, go home.”
It was Nina.
“What do you mean?” she asked, not sure in the absolute pitch where the woman lay.
“Time to go home. Go home. Go home.”
She didn’t have time for babbling. Whatever had happened must have short-circuited the psychic. A part of Daphne hoped it was more than a temporary affliction.
Daphne was startled when people came rushing in through the back door. One of them held a flashlight.
“Rusty, clear that table,” Eddie spat. By the wavering light, she could see Jessica in his arms. Alice and Jason were glued to Rusty’s sides. Rusty looked like a far older version of himself. His nose was a bloody mess. He swept the few plates and fruit bowl off the table.
“Alice! Jason!” Daphne cried.
The moment they saw her, they pulled away from Rusty, running into her arms. She squeezed them as hard as she could, burying her face in their hair, raining kisses on cheeks and foreheads.
“I was so worried about you,” she wept.
“We wanted to stop the bad man,” Jason said.
“But we hurt daddy instead,” Alice said.
Both kids went limp in her arms.
“I’m so tired, Mommy,” Alice said, her eyelids fluttering.
“Me too,” Jason said with a yawn.
At that moment, Tobe came staggering into the room. Daphne let out a sharp breath when she saw the knife in his thigh and the river of blood collecting in his shoe.
And though it seemed they had all taken a quick detour to hell, she knew it was not over.
Jessica looked terrible. Her skin had gone waxy and pale, her lips and eyelids tinting bluer by the second. Eddie checked her airways to make sure she wasn’t choking to death.
But he knew that wasn’t it.
The Ormsby EBs had drawn so much from her, there was barely enough left to keep her heart and lungs moving. Looking over at Jason and Alice, unable to keep their eyes open, he knew they wouldn’t be far behind.
“Jessica, wake up. Jessica, can you hear me?”
He tapped her cheeks, hoping for a response. “I need some light in here!” he shouted.
Rusty said, “I’ll look for candles.” He ransacked the kitchen drawers, finding several and a box of matches. He lit them, placing them around the breakfast room where most of them had gathered.
“Oh my sweet Jesus,” Rusty whispered, taking in every square inch of the room.
The house was rotting before their eyes. Wallpaper faded, peeled, cracked and turned to dust. Jagged cracks broke through the ceiling, a falling domino procession of fault lines zig-zagging down the walls. Paint flecked off in great sheets.
Whatever magic had held the interior in a space and time of its once magnificent wonder was gone now. The interior rapidly degenerated to finally match the weathered exterior.
Eddie had to save Jessica. If she went, there was no telling how far the decay and rot would go before it stopped. He certainly wouldn’t be able to make good on his promise to the Ormsby EBs, and that could be catastrophic.
Energy.
They were taking her energy.
He’d just have to give some of his own to her. His head hurt so bad, the slightest puff of wind felt like hot needles against his eyes and flesh.
Suck it up, Eddie. There is no way in hell you’re letting her go.
Placing his hands on the sides of Jessica’s face, he knelt over her, his nose touching hers.
“Come back to me,” he said, his heart heavy as an anvil, tears threatening to sluice over his lower lids.
He’d twice connected Jessica to himself psychically, which made this time that much easier. Eyes closed, he saw the glowing yellow filaments of his own life force flow into her.
Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump.
Jessica’s heart jumped with the onrush.
They were connected now, more intimate than any two people could ever be. Eddie poured his life into her, willing her to revive. He felt the EBs trying to sap away his strength, to break their bond, but he wouldn’t let them. If he lost his mind or life completely in the process, he would not let them in.
“Oh,” Jessica whispered.
Eddie’s eyes flew open, meeting her own
“That was weird,” she said, the makings of a pained smile on her lips.
If it wouldn’t have hurt too much, he would have laughed. “Weird is what we do best. Now, I need you to close your eyes again.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to sleep again.”
He brushed his fingers over her forehead. “It won’t be like that, I promise. I need to be the middle-man for a moment. The children have their mothers’ names. They needed to realize this isn’t their home. Their mothers are their homes.”
“H-h-how?”
“I took them to the source. All of them have passed, Jess. The Ormsbys paid them off and shipped them out when they were done with them. But no amount of money could cure their guilt, their sadness. If they didn’t die by their own hands, they passed away young of natural causes. I’m going to have the children give you their names and then I’ll call them here. Once I do, I need you to send the mothers away. They’ll take their children with them.”
She grabbed his arm. “But what if you’re wrong? What if it doesn’t work?”
“We’re here for a reason. If we don’t try, Alice and Jason will be next. Once the EBs have taken everything from you, they’ll turn to the kids. And then they’ll all be trapped here. We can’t let that happen, Jess. You can’t let that happen.”
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she caressed his cheek. “We can do it. Come on, bring them home.”
All eyes in the room were on them. Tobe slouched against the wall, mindless of the savage wound in his leg. Rusty stood at the ready, prepared to do whatever was asked of him while Daphne cradled her sleeping children.
He looked at Rusty. “Wish us luck.”
“If I could cross my toes, I would.”
Eddie lay beside Jessica on the table, her hand wrapped within his. He went to his psychic totem, the open barn, its paint restored since his last visit. For the first time in years, the doors were shut and locked. Jessica sat beside him on the bale of hay, smiling.
“So this is where you go,” she said.
“Home away from home. Come on, help me with those doors. They’re heavy as hell.”
Sharp sunlight warmed their faces as the doors swung
wide.
Over a hundred Ormsby children stood in the wheat fields, waiting.
“Tell us about your mommies,” Jessica said. She leaned back, feeling the rush of love and loss as the children spoke as one, a field of Babel only she and Eddie could decipher.
Twenty-four women, all young and beautiful and stunning in their auras, emerged from the tall grass. The children ran to greet them. Jessica couldn’t hold back her tears.
“It looks just like when I would come home from summer camp. Busloads of kids and carloads of parents running toward each other. I never felt more love in one place than in those moments.”
Eddie draped an arm over her shoulders. “Well, now you have this. Time to wake up so you can do your thing. Send them all home, Jess. Send them home.”
They woke at the same time. Jessica still felt weak, but Eddie had given her enough to get off the table and stand on her own. Rusty held his hands out, ready to catch her should she fall.
She looked at Alice and Jason, so peaceful in repose, though she knew the EBs would easily drain them of everything if she didn’t do it now.
“I’m going to send them all away,” she said to Daphne. “It’s nothing dramatic. In fact, you may not be able to tell at all. But it will happen.”
Daphne nodded. “Please, give them all peace.”
Taking a long, deep breath, Jessica once again closed her eyes, recalling each mother’s face as she was reunited with her lost children. Especially the three women who had given birth to the Last Kids, the final Ormsby line that had been burned alive by a mad Alexander Ormsby who couldn’t face the total failure of his family’s generations-long vision.
She spoke their names softly, saying between each, “You can go now, be with your children forever.”
As she’d said, there were no great displays, no flashing lights or parting sounds, pleas of mercy or shouts of happiness. Instead, the silence seemed to grow deeper, the darkness lighter as dawn crept closer.
When she was done, the room looked as it should, part of a long abandoned house that never once knew love.
