The Killing Room

by John Manning

  Thunder crashed overhead as Douglas took Carolyn in his arms and kissed her.

  “The amulet will protect me,” he whispered in her ear. “Diana said it had great power.”

  She nodded against his chest. It was as if she couldn’t raise her eyes to look at him.

  “But whatever happens,” Douglas added, “you have got to always believe you did everything you could.”

  She finally lifted her beautiful green eyes to his.

  “I wish it had been anyone but you,” she admitted. “I wish it had been Philip.”

  Douglas shook his head. “It was supposed to be me. Ever since Uncle Howie told me about the room and the lottery, I felt it was going to be me. My father went into that room. My grandfather. My great-grandfather.”

  Carolyn clutched at his shirt, pressing her face against his chest once more. The amulet brushed against her. She kissed it for luck.

  Douglas’s mind raced back in time, to the day ten years ago when his father stood in this room, no doubt holding his mother much as Douglas held Carolyn now. Douglas had been sound asleep upstairs, unaware of the drama that was taking place beneath him. Mom surely clutched at Dad’s shirt the way Carolyn was doing. She would never be the same after Dad’s death. She had loved him that much.

  “I need to know,” Douglas said, kissing the top of Carolyn’s head. “Do you love me? Do you love me the way I love you?”

  Carolyn once again lifted her face to look him in the eyes.

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Douglas, I love you.”

  They kissed, just as Uncle Howie rapped on the door.

  “It’s time,” the old man said, peering inside.

  “Yes, okay,” Douglas replied.

  “I love you,” Carolyn said again. She wouldn’t move. She just stood there clinging to Douglas.

  “I need to go,” he whispered gently.

  “I love you,” she said again, as if only now realizing it fully. “I love you! And you love me!”

  He gently caressed her cheek with his hand.

  Carolyn’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! That’s what she was trying to tell me!”

  “Beatrice? Trying to tell you what?”

  Uncle Howie stood in the doorway. “We must hurry,” he said.

  Carolyn was in a state of agitation. “Love! That’s what it was all about for Beatrice! Remember when Kip recorded her… She was saying ‘love’ over and over again. That’s why she didn’t let Jeanette die! Because she understands a woman’s love! And Jeanette loved Michael!”

  Howard Young stood in the doorway, his face hard. “You make no sense, Carolyn. All I know is that it’s time. If we delay, we risk far worse.”

  “Listen to me!” Carolyn cried, tugging even more aggressively at Douglas’s shirt. “What will save you more than that amulet is the fact that we are in love! I believe now that Beatrice was a woman in love. Remember what Harry Noons said. She told Clem she wouldn’t marry him because there was someone else. She’s carried that love with her beyond the grave.”

  “This is nonsense!” Uncle Howie shouted. “Come along, Douglas! We must go downstairs now!”

  “Yes,” Carolyn said, releasing her grip on Douglas’s shirt. “It’s time that Douglas went into the room.” She paused, looking from the old man back to Douglas. “And I am going in with him.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “That is impossible!” Howard Young declared.

  Carolyn eyed him fiercely. “There was never any instruction that forbade a non-family member from entering the room, was there?”

  The old man struggled for words. “Nothing was ever written. My father had a dream in which he was told to inaugurate a lottery. It was the only way, he was told, to prevent a full-scale slaughter of the family. We would have to sacrifice one a decade so that the rest of us might live.”

  “You’ve never revealed that detail before,” Douglas observed.

  “What did it matter? All I’ve cared about is finding a way to end this curse.”

  “Who gave him the instruction?” Carolyn asked. “Who appeared to him in the dream?”

  “He never told us.”

  “But whoever it was, there was no prohibition of a non-family member accompanying a family member into the room?” Carolyn asked.

  Douglas suddenly gripped her forearm. “No, Carolyn,” he said. “I can’t allow you to go into the room with me.”

  “I’m not in any danger,” she assured him. “Never has a non-family member been killed in the whole eighty years of the lottery. And I believe Beatrice’s appearance to me the other night was her assurance that she would protect me.”

  “The way she protected Jeanette?” Douglas shook his head. “That’s not very reassuring.”

  “It will be different this time.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Because we’ll be together. Together we will be able to fight off the force in the room.” She gave him a smile. “It’s all about love. Beatrice has told us that. She’s made it very plain.”

  “No,” Douglas said.

  “Do you think I would risk doing this if I truly believed we wouldn’t survive? You know I would never leave my sister Andrea willingly. She’d be lost without me. You know that, Douglas. I wouldn’t leave her alone in this world. So I must honestly believe that I will survive that room-and that the only way you can survive as well is if I accompany you.”

  “We can’t afford to argue any longer,” Howard Young said. “It’s after midnight, the time when the room has always been entered. Who knows if we’ve already breached the rules too much? Douglas, whether it’s you alone or with Carolyn, you must go downstairs now!”

  “Trust me,” Carolyn said, her eyes imploring Douglas.

  Douglas hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her hand. Mr. Young stepped aside as they hurried out of the parlor and across the foyer, heading for the door to the basement.

  “May God protect you both,” the old man said as they passed.

  There was no time for any further good-byes. Down the stairs they rushed. Carolyn only had time to pick up a flashlight from one of the shelves. The door was open, waiting for them. Mr. Young would be downstairs momentarily after them to lock it.

  They entered the room.

  It looked just as it had the other day, except that every once in a while lightning flashed from the small window, illuminating the room.

  “What do we do?” Douglas asked.

  She gave him a small smile. “I suppose we just sit on the couch and wait.”

  Douglas brought his hands together in a prayerful gesture, his fingertips touching his lips. “So many people have died here,” he said. “So many people have stood where we stand now, with the same kind of terror.”

  They heard a small click. Uncle Howie was turning the key in the lock, sealing them in there for the night.

  “Why would he never tell us about his father and the dream he had?” Douglas asked. “Why withhold so much about how the lottery started?”

  Carolyn took a seat on the couch. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s as if he’s felt the fewer details known by the family, the better.”

  Douglas sat beside her. “And so decade after decade we’ve trooped in here to die, without ever knowing why.”

  “Your cousin Paula said it was like mindless sheep being herded to slaughter.”

  Douglas looked at her with determination.

  “Well, we’re not sheep,” he said, taking her hand. “We will walk out of this room in the morning.”

  Carolyn nodded. She believed that. She honestly did.

  Then why was she still so terrified?

  They sat in silence. She was aware of their breathing. How long before something happened? They had no idea of the sequence of events in this room. Everyone who had ever been selected by the lottery was dead-except for Jeanette, and her voice had been silenced, apparently forever. They might have to wait all night. Perhaps nothing happened until it was close to morning. Perhaps there was no rhyme or
reason at all.

  “When we get out of here,” Douglas said at last, “I want to marry you.”

  Carolyn just gripped his hand.

  Outside the thunderstorm raged. The small lamp that sat beside the couch sputtered and died. They’d lost power. Carolyn switched on the flashlight that she held in her lap. A column of white light shot straight up toward the ceiling.

  Only then did they hear the scratching.

  “What is it?” Douglas whispered.

  “It might only be a mouse,” Carolyn whispered back.

  But it grew louder. Where it was coming from, they couldn’t be sure. Scratch, scratch, scratch. They drew closer to each other on the couch.

  “Why don’t you just show your face?” Douglas finally said out loud. “Reveal who you are.”

  But only scratching was heard in return. Louder and louder.

  Then a flash of lighting lit up the room. In that brief instant, Carolyn saw a face.

  “Dear God,” she gasped.

  It was the face of a baby. Looking exactly like the face in Dean’s photograph.

  The baby was crying.

  Now its shrieks replaced the scratching. Low at first, then high-pitched. It seemed as if the baby were everywhere in the room. Its cries came at them from every corner.

  “The poor child,” Carolyn said. “Whatever force controls this room controls that baby’s spirit. Refuses to let it find peace.”

  “Whoever murdered Beatrice must have murdered the baby, too,” Douglas said. “What if that was the way it happened? What if the baby was murdered too, and my family never found it a home?”

  How he knew this was a fact, he wasn’t sure. But he did know it. The baby was killed, too.

  Carolyn seemed to grasp this as well. “Set the child free!” she said, standing up, swinging the light from wall to wall. “You can’t sate your beastly hunger this time! Beatrice won’t have it! There is love in this house again! A love that doesn’t hurt people! That doesn’t murder children!”

  With that, the baby’s cries reached a crescendo, as if Carolyn’s words had infuriated it. No longer did it sound as if the baby were simply tired or hungry or frightened. Now the cries were angry. Full of rage. As if the child were throwing a furious temper tantrum.

  Carolyn took a step back toward the couch, then realized the floor was wet. She turned the flashlight down to get a look.

  Blood. The floor was covered with blood.

  She swung the flashlight toward the wall. The words had returned.

  ABANDON HOPE.

  “No,” she called out. “We will not abandon hope!”

  And in that same moment, the door swung open. Against the forces that controlled this room, mere locks were powerless.

  Douglas stood quickly, taking Carolyn by the shoulders.

  Even before they saw him, they heard Clem’s approach.

  The scrape of metal against the basement floor.

  The heavy thud of his footsteps.

  And his breathing. His loud, labored breathing.

  In the doorway appeared Clem’s face, red and smiling crazily. His pitchfork was gripped tightly by his dead hands.

  Carolyn shone the flashlight in his face. He didn’t blink. He just made a sound in his throat and took a step toward them.

  “You can’t harm us,” Carolyn said. “You have no power over us!”

  But Clem continued his approach undeterred.

  “Show him the amulet,” Carolyn whispered to Douglas.

  He obeyed. He parted his shirt to reveal the amethyst around his neck.

  Clem slowed in his approach, noticing the jewel, and seemingly intrigued.

  “You have no quarrel with us,” Carolyn said. “It is time that you rested in peace, Clement Rittenhouse. Leave us. Rest!”

  Clem stared at the amulet. Then he growled, a low sound deep in his throat.

  And from somewhere in the dark room came a voice.

  “Show them,” the voice said.

  Light returned to the room. Carolyn gasped. It was no longer a dusty empty cell covered in cobwebs. It was a tidy little bedroom, and on the far wall was a baby’s wooden crib. Clem turned, dropping his pitchfork. He walked to the crib and reached down inside. Carolyn and Douglas watched transfixed. He lifted a baby out of the crib. It was wrapped in a baby blanket. It had been sleeping. Carolyn could see its small face clearly. Its little eyes flickered awake. And Clem held it in his hands, staring down at it.

  “No,” Carolyn murmured, suddenly certain of what they were about to witness.

  With ease, Clem reached up and took the baby’s tiny head in his enormous right hand. And then he twisted its neck. Carolyn heard the crack, like the snapping of a small twig. The baby’s little fingers clutched at the air for a second, then fell still. Carolyn screamed.

  And blacked out.

  She awoke covered in blood. She was on the floor. The bloody floor. The room was dark again. Douglas was not beside her. She tried to stand and slipped in the blood.

  “Douglas!” she cried out.

  She found the flashlight, still shining, casting its lonely column of light across the floor. She grabbed it, almost dropping it because it was slick with blood. She swung the light around the room, but did not see Douglas. Once again she called his name.

  The room was different. It was longer, wider. It stretched on for a great length, and at the far end she saw the window.

  Jeanette had managed to climb out that window. Had Douglas done the same?

  But he wouldn’t leave me here, Carolyn thought.

  She began to run. The bloody floor was slick, but she managed. She ran and ran but seemed to come no closer to the window. As she ran she heard the baby crying again. It was killed in this room, she thought. By Clem. He must have killed Beatrice, too, then. Perhaps Clem was the force that controlled this room.

  But, no. She had a heard a voice. A voice commanding him to show them what had happened.

  Finally, after what seemed like many long minutes, Carolyn reached the end of the room. There, slumped against the far wall, was Douglas. His shirt was in tatters. The amulet was gone from his neck.

  And there was a plastic bag secured around his head!

  “No!” Carolyn screamed, lunging at him, ripping the bag with her fingers. Douglas’s face was gray. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

  Getting him onto the floor she began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “Breathe, damn it!” she screamed, pressing her lips to his for a second time. “Douglas, I love you!” she screamed, trying it a third time.

  Finally he hiccupped a breath, and she could feel the life start moving through his body again.

  She looked around. The room was back to normal. There was no more blood on the floor. The far wall was no longer so far. It was just a few feet from where they had been sitting on the couch.

  But it wasn’t over yet.

  The baby continued to cry.

  And in the shadows Carolyn detected movement.

  She aimed the flashlight.

  The spotlight revealed Clem. He stood there, tears running down his face.

  Carolyn stood.

  “You don’t want to do this, do you?” she asked.

  The dead man made no reply. He was motionless. The only thing about him that moved were the tears running down his cheeks.

  “Someone made you kill that baby,” Carolyn said. “Isn’t that right, Clem?”

  Still no response. Behind her, Douglas staggered to his feet. Carolyn turned to him and asked if he were okay.

  He nodded. “Something grabbed the amulet from around my neck,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Then there was a plastic bag on the floor in front of me. I couldn’t help myself. I put it over my head and tied it. That’s the way my father must have died, too.”

  “But you didn’t die,” Carolyn told him. “Beatrice was right. Our love is going to save us. Isn’t it, Clem?”

  They looked over at the figure, still motionless in the corner opposite them.<
br />
  “For eighty years you have been a prisoner here,” Carolyn said. “Why?”

  She dared to take a step toward him.

  “You loved Beatrice, didn’t you?” she asked. “And in a moment of passion, you killed her.”

  Finally a response from the dead man. His dull eyes flashed for moment as they looked up at her.

  “No,” Clem said. “I did not kill her.”

  “Then who did?” Carolyn asked.

  But now Clem was silent again.

  “Whoever killed her has made you do these terrible things, isn’t that right?”

  But Clem just went on crying. Carolyn shone the flashlight in his face and continued her approach toward him.

  “You can be free,” she told him. “Walk out that door, Clem. The love you searched for in your life…Douglas and I have it. You don’t want to deprive us of that. You’re tired. You have done too much that you regret. End it now. Leave this room, just as Beatrice did. You can be free, too.”

  He looked up at her. There was no longer any malice in his face.

  “You know you can’t harm us,” Carolyn said. “Our love protects us. But not only are you powerless to harm us, you no longer want to. Isn’t that right, Clem?”

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

  “Go,” Carolyn said softly. “Turn your back on the evil force of this room. We have shown that we can be stronger than it is. We came here to free you, Clem. Go. Go now!”

  Douglas had come up beside Carolyn. He had placed a hand on her back. He feared at any moment that Clem’s rage might surge up again, like bile in his throat. He could pounce again, his pitchfork aimed at them. But he didn’t. To Douglas’s great surprise the dead man walked. He walked past them, opened the supposedly locked door, and disappeared into the darkness of the basement beyond.

  It was only then that they noticed the first pink glimmers of morning filtering through the window.

  “We’ve done it,” Carolyn said quietly. “We’ve survived a night in the room.”