by Ron Ripley
Pete turned to leave and stopped.
Somehow, Shane had crossed the tiled floor without a sound. He stood between Pete and the hallway. The cigarette was between his lips, clinging to a precarious position in the left corner of his mouth. Smoke drifted out of his nostrils, and the look in Shane's eyes tied an uncomfortable knot in Pete's stomach.
"I need to leave," Pete whispered.
Shane shook his head.
Pete straightened up, forced himself to speak louder and said, "I'm leaving."
Shane remained silent.
"Fine," Pete said, and he tried to push his way past the man.
Shane's right fist was a blur and Pete yelled, staggering back. Pain exploded in his left shoulder, and the arm hung dead at his side.
“You’re going to stay and help make this right,” Frank said.
Pete shook his head.
Shane's left hand lashed out, and Pete's right ear began to ring and pulse.
"We're not asking you, Pete," Frank said, a mournful expression on his face. "We're telling you.”
Pete shook his head.
Shane sighed, gave a shrug, and then punched Pete in the stomach.
Gasping for breath, Pete collapsed to the floor, writhing on the cold tile.
Shane squatted down in front of him, took the cigarette out and said, "Pete, are you listening to me?"
Pete looked at him through tear-filled eyes and nodded.
"Good," Shane said. He took another pull off the cigarette, the smoke slipping out of his mouth as he spoke. "Good. Now I want you to hear me. If you don't make the call to your ex, then I'm going to have to start hurting you."
Pete closed his eyes and let the tears fall.
Chapter 41: Angry at the World
Shane sat on the stairs in the hallway, his hands hurting. A small part of him was disgusted with what he had done, the way he had hurt the Dawson brothers to get their agreement and assistance.
The rest of him wasn't.
The rest of him wanted to bring the two men to Kurkow and show them what had happened.
And that's just what I know happened, Shane thought. He snorted, took his cigarettes out and tapped the pack on his leg. What the hell's going on in the rest of Gaiman?
Frank walked out of the kitchen, down the hall and sat beside Shane.
"How are you holding up?" Frank asked.
"I'm alright," Shane said.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
Shane nodded.
"You're looking a little stressed to me, Marine," Frank said.
"Little bit," Shane confessed. "I don't like waiting. Not when I know something bad is going on."
"Neither do I," Frank agreed. The former monk's phone rang. Frank took it out, looked at the caller ID and said, "It's my Abbott."
Shane nodded and continued to play with his pack of matches while Frank answered the call and stood up. His voice trailed off as he left the hallway. Ollie appeared in the doorway, glanced after Frank and then walked over to Shane. He stopped a few feet away from him.
"What's up?" Shane asked.
"Did you have to go so hard on him?" Ollie asked. There was anger in his voice, his face flushed with the same.
Shane stared at Ollie until the other man looked away.
"That wasn't hard," Shane said, his voice low. "Not hard at all. If I had my way, Oliver, I would have broken his God damned fingers, and yours as well. I still might. Depends on how many bodies end up at your feet when all of this is done."
Ollie took an involuntary step back.
"You wouldn't," Ollie whispered.
"I would. I can, and," Shane said, "I'd like nothing more. Greed and arrogance are two of my least favorite traits. Show me you're different and I'll leave you be."
Ollie shook his head, turned and hurried away.
Frank returned, putting his phone away and asking, "Can I borrow your car?"
"Sure," Shane said. He dug his keys out and tossed them to Frank.
The other man caught them with one hand and said, "The Abbott's got some items we can borrow. I was hoping for some more men, but evidently, there was a situation at a Church in Boston. All of those in the Order who are capable of combating the dead have been sent there."
Shane sighed. "Great. Hey, any word from Asa as to what's up with him and Emma?"
"Not yet," Frank said. "I'll send him a text. Want me to give him your number?"
"Please," Shane said. "Are you going to talk to him about going up to Ennis?"
Frank nodded. "Yeah. Damn, I forgot all about that. I'll call him from the car then I'll have him text you, and the two of you can set up everything once Pete gets those rooms for us."
"Okay," Shane said. "Be safe out there."
"When aren't I?" Frank asked, grinning.
"Given our short friendship," Shane replied, "I'd have to say always."
Frank's laughter followed him as he left the house.
Chapter 42: Becoming Concerned
The snow had stopped, and George was thankful. He was also pleased with the fire, the food, and the pleasant company considering the circumstances. His phone, however, had finally died.
And Evie was becoming worse with each passing hour.
She was no longer content to sit by the fire and watch her girls play. Evie no longer had any desire to engage in conversation or play cards.
Instead, she paced from window to window, always careful of the salt. While she had started doing so in silence, she had begun to mumble after darkness had fallen.
George, Merle and Laura had all exchanged concerned looks. Evie's daughters didn't seem to notice anything was wrong with their mother.
When both Alison and Rachel had fallen asleep, and their breathing was in a steady, deep rhythm, Laura got up. George watched as her face became a mask of concern, a police officer worried about a citizen.
Laura's voice was soft, her words picked with care, her touch gentle on Evie's arm as she stopped her. Evie's eyes darted about, frantic as they moved from one window to the next. Her fingers twitched, and she licked her lips every few seconds.
“Evie,” Laura said. “How are you doing?”
Evie jerked her arm away and took a step back as she snapped, “How do you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know,” Laura said. “That’s why I’m asking.”
George started to stand, but Laura shook her hand at him. He sat back down, scooting himself closer to the couch where the girls sat.
“I’m doing fantastic,” Evie spat. “I’m trapped in here. My girls are trapped in here. I don’t know where my husband is. I don’t know where the rest of the police are. Didn’t you say they’d be here soon? What’s soon to you, huh? Three hours? Six? Tell me!”
“Evie,” Laura said. “They’ll be here as soon as they can. Why don’t you come on back to the couch? Maybe we could play a game with your kids.”
“Maybe we could find out where the hell the cops are!” Evie shrieked.
Merle moved from the rocking chair to the couch, wrapping her arms protectively around both girls.
“Yeah, that’s what we should do,” Evie whispered. “Let’s find out where they are.”
Laura lunged for Evie as she twisted around for the door. Evie grabbed hold of the door knob as George launched himself off the couch. Laura managed to catch Evie’s right arm, but Evie ripped the door open.
Before George reached her, Evie kicked out a section of the rock salt on the threshold.
Cold exploded into the room, a shriek driving a spike of sound into his head. George moaned, clamped his hands up over his ears and dropped to his knees. Evie stumbled backward, her calves hitting him in the head and sending her tumbling over him as Laura let go.
Through cloudy, pain-filled eyes George saw Laura slam the door close, grab the box of salt next to it and refresh the broken line.
The cold lessened, but it wasn’t gone.
Evie had gone silent. Laying on her back beside George. Her e
yes were closed, and George could hear one of the little girls whimper. Merle was whispering to them, telling Alison and Rachel that everything was going to be alright.
Breathing hard, George rolled onto his side and got to his feet. Laura leaned against the door, the box of salt still in her hands.
“What happened?” one of the girls asked, and George turned and saw it was Rachel who had spoken.
“Your mom’s really tired,” George said. “And stressed. She just needs to rest for a while.”
“We all do,” Laura muttered. She put the box down and sat back on the floor. Laura took her hat off, massaged her temples and looked over at the still body of Evie. “Is she alright?”
“I think so,” George said.
“Could you check please?” Laura asked.
George nodded, turned and felt for a pulse in the soft flesh of Evie’s neck. He found it, the beat of her heart strong and steady. George glanced at Laura, saying, “She’s okay.”
“Thank God,” Laura murmured.
George looked again at Evie, and her eyes snapped open. The whites were bloodshot, the pupils tight.
Evie smiled at him, her lips spreading wide in an unnatural grin.
George pushed himself away from her.
Evie sat up, twisted her head to the left, and then to the right. Some of the vertebrae cracked, and she chuckled.
“That’s not my mom,” Alison whispered, and the words burned George’s ears.
“No,” Evie said. “I’m not your mom. But you look sweet.”
Evie cracked her knuckles and looked around at everyone. “You all do. And I can touch you.”
Evie got to her feet, holding out both hands to keep her balance.
“Who are you?” Merle demanded.
“Who are you?” Evie asked, raising an eyebrow and snickering. “Well, introductions, huh? I’m Pat. Patrick Nett.”
“How did you get in here?” Merle asked.
“This one?” the possessed Evie asked. She patted her own behind and chuckled. “Weak. Weak. Weak!”
Evie looked around, grinning. “Almost too easy to climb in her head. I wasn’t sure I could. But I did. And here I am! Feels a little different, you know?”
“You need to leave her,” Merle said.
Evie glared at her. “I don’t think so. Besides, I need to get this door open for my friends. We’ve been trying to get in for a while. There’s only a few of you holding out, and you’ve got the most interesting place. A little taste for everyone.”
Evie blew a kiss at her daughters, and there was nothing maternal in the act.
“Well, time to let our friends in, what do you say?” Evie said, and she lunged for the door.
George scrambled after her, but Laura was already there. The State Trooper slammed into Evie, smashing her into the wall, grabbing hold of Evie’s arm and spinning her down onto the floor.
“Grab her!” Laura yelled.
George threw himself onto Evie, landing hard on the woman. Beneath him she squirmed, trying to buck him off. A stream of profanity poured out of her mouth, and she threw an elbow into his ribs. His breath rushed out of him, leaving him gasping and trying to hold on.
Then Laura was there.
“Move,” she said, and George rolled away.
Laura got on top of Evie, put a knee into the small of the woman’s back and with surprising ease had Evie handcuffed.
George managed to catch his breath and looked at Merle. The older woman had turned the girls away from the scene, and she had them pressed close to her.
Laura dragged Evie up and propped her against the wall.
Blood trickled out of the corner of Evie’s mouth, her teeth bloody. Evie chuckled, looking from George to Laura.
“What’s funny, Pat?” Laura asked.
Evie spat on the floor and grinned and said, “What you’re thinking right now.”
“What am I thinking?” Laura said.
“Not just you, Pig. All of you,” Evie sneered.
“Fine,” Laura said, sighing. “Tell me, what are all of us thinking right now?”
“That I’m trapped in here with you,” Evie said. “Trapped in her.”
“And you’re not?” Laura asked.
“Tell me what you think,” Evie whispered.
George watched as Evie closed her eyes, twisted her head to the left, and then hammered it against the wall.
The sound of her neck breaking was loud and horrifically clear. As her body slumped over, the temperature in the room plunged. The air between George and Laura shimmered, then Patrick Nett appeared.
He looked like all the others George had seen. Clad in prison garb, face swollen and green, black tongue protruding from his lips. Patrick was short and wiry, and his voice was thin and reedy when he spoke.
“A pity,” he said. “I had hoped to get a little taste of her daughters. But I’ll have to wait on that, won’t I.”
George snarled, grabbed hold of the fireplace poker and lunged at the ghost.
Patrick moved out of the way, laughing. As George lurched by, Patrick struck him on the side of the head. The touch was colder than anything George had felt before, and he screamed, dropping the poker to clutch at his injured ear.
Patrick’s laugh was cut short, and when George turned around to look, he saw Laura. The trooper’s face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. In her hands, she held Evie’s cast iron frying pan.
She set the utensil down on the floor, turned to George and said in a strained voice, “Let’s look at that ear.”
Chapter 43: Help Arrives
"Hey, Shane," Frank said.
Shane sat up, rubbed at his eyes and said, "Yeah?"
"Someone's here for you."
Shane blinked, looked around and tried to remember where he was.
Ollie's house, he reminded himself. You're at Ollie's house trying to figure this mess out.
Shane stood up and followed Frank out of the guest room he had fallen asleep in.
"Are you feeling alright?" Frank asked.
"Yeah," Shane said, nodding. "You?"
"Feeling a little off," Frank replied. "Kind of strange, but hey, I'll be better."
They entered the main hall, and Shane saw Mason Phillips.
Mason grinned at him, saying, "God, Gunny, you look worse than I remember."
Shane laughed, embraced his friend and pounded him on the back. "You look healthy. And happy. What the hell has gotten into you?"
Mason held up his left hand, and Shane saw a gold wedding band on it.
"What?!" Shane asked. "Someone actually married you? Did you come into money or something?"
"Let's go with the something part," Mason said, chuckling. Seriousness replaced the mirth, and Mason said, "Tell me what's going on."
"First," Shane said, "I need to ask you this. Do you still believe in ghosts?"
Mason nodded. "Believe in them. Afraid of them, when it's necessary. Is it necessary?"
"Yeah," Shane answered.
"Tell me what you've got," Mason said, looking from Shane to Frank.
Shane did so, with Frank adding information Shane left out.
After a short while, they had told Mason everything, and the man stood with his arms crossed. Finally, he asked, "Am I the only help you've got?"
"Yeah," Shane said. "I'm afraid so. I've got a call into some other friends in Nashua. Hoping they can help with binding, but I haven't heard back. They usually don't do big cases like this."
"Don't blame 'em," Mason said. "This is a nightmare. That being said, how do you want to do this?"
"We want to get them all back into Kurkow Prison," Frank said. "Which means we've got to secure the facility, and then hunt down the others that have gotten out."
"Do you know why they're out?" Mason asked.
Shane frowned and looked at Frank.
"No," Shane said. "I mean. I figured it was just to wreak havoc. You know, bottled up in the prison for all that time."
"Mig
ht be," Mason said. "Maybe we can find out if that's all it is, or if they're after something more."
"I think there is," Ollie said from the kitchen.
They turned to look at him. Ollie was in the doorway, Pete lurking behind him.
"What is it then?" Mason asked.
"Pete said there were a lot of calls about Mulberry Street in Gaiman," Ollie said. "Almost exclusively so. Sure, a few other accidents and stuff. Those can be explained away by the weather. The only fatalities, other than the murder of the three women in Kurkow itself, well, were on Mulberry Street."
"Can we bind the prison again with iron chains on the doors?" Frank asked.
"I think so," Shane said.
Mason looked at him. "What about the broken windows?"
"The windows have iron bars on them, or in the frames," Shane said. "They couldn't have come out from there. Otherwise the dead would have been causing trouble a long, long time ago. No, it was when the iron was stripped off the doors that did it. The dead came out of them, one right when the inner chains were cut off. There was something about the doors being locked with those chains."
"Alright," Mason said. "We need to get to Mulberry Street."
Frank turned his attention to the Dawson brothers. "Any luck with the hotel?"
Pete shook his head as Ollie said, "Guess his ex isn't in the office yet."
"Keep trying," Frank said.
"What about Asa?" Shane asked. "And the girl, Emma?"
Before Frank could answer, a cold, powerful blow struck Shane in the chest, knocking him backward. He gasped for breath, stumbled, tripped over his own feet and crashed to the marble floor.
His head struck stone, and he grunted, rolling onto his side. A dull roar filled his ears, and beneath it, Shane heard shouts. Pushing himself up, Shane tried to focus. He saw Courtney standing in front of him, her fists clenched at her sides.
"Why are you concerned about Emma?!" she shrieked, and struck him again.
Chapter 44: The Situation Begins to Change
Edmund was becoming anxious.
From every window of his house, he could see the dead. They were not merely gathered around his house but pressed against it. Edmund could no longer see his yard or anything else for that matter.
