In Your Face Horror (Chamber Of Horror Series)

by Billy Wells

  “I find it hard to believe that such things exist. That’s what makes what’s happening on my farm so bizarre. It can’t be happening, but it is.”

  “Did any farm animals die?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Was there a swarm of flies? A bad smell?” Hank questioned.

  “How did you know?” Orville looked at Gardner like he had just seen a ghost. “Are you a mind reader?”

  “No, but in my research of the event, I remember the same thing happened for several months after the warlock was burned at the stake. The story is this warlock, whose name was Eli Enoch, may have been the granddaddy of all serial killers in this country. He supposedly murdered hundreds of families with his magic ax in this region over a ten-year period. The killings were the most brutal ever recorded in those days. The victims’ body parts were hung from hooks suspended from the ceiling of their homes. A group of townspeople were dedicated to tracking him down before he devoured everyone. They hunted him relentlessly with the help of some of the Native American tribes for years without success. They came upon him several times while he was in the midst of his human feast, but they were unable to subdue him because of his superhuman strength and abilities that were greater than a mortal man. Many of his pursuers became new victims for his atrocities.”

  Orville raised his hand in front of Hank’s face as if he were stopping traffic and remarked, “Hank, if this warlock was so damned superhuman, how did they capture him? Why did he let himself be burned at the stake? Did they sprinkle a little kryptonite on him?”

  “On the day you mentioned, a band of trackers came upon Eli after he had devoured a family of eight and had gorged himself to such an extent that he had fallen asleep. His bulging stomach was so enlarged that it appeared ready to burst. A cauldron of blood from the victims was boiling and a mysterious book was open to the bloody notations of a ritual he was trying to complete when they came upon him. He probably would never have been captured if not for the deep stupor that allowed his enemies to finally subdue him.”

  Orville pondered a moment and said, “Reminds me of what Arnold said about the monster in Predator: ‘If it bleeds we can kill it.’ ”

  Hank scratched his head and slowly lifted himself from his chair.

  “Relax a minute,” Hank said with an arthritic wince. “I want to read you a section from my book that was documented as an eyewitness account of the execution.” Hank disappeared behind the rows of books for a few moments and reappeared with a one that appeared very old, yet still had the cover intact and the pages tightly bound. It was titled The Warlock of Ipswich, and the author was, in fact, Henry Gardner.

  “I guess I really did come to the right place to find out what happened in 1697.”

  Hank smiled proudly and thumbed through the pages until pausing at a section about twenty pages from the back cover.

  He hesitated, reading a few passages under his breath, and then started reading aloud in a library whisper.

  “The band of townspeople fell upon him and battered his skull in with their clubs. They bound him with heavy ropes, and while he was unconscious, they cut off his hands and feet. Without a shred of remorse, they blinded him with a poker from the fireplace. At last, assuming he was finally powerless to harm them, they carted him off to a place that had been used as a gallows and once to burn a witch at the stake.’ ”

  “They made Eli a quadriplegic! I guess that did slow him down a little,” Orville chirped.

  Hank paused and looked at Orville over the top of his eyeglasses, and his voice increased slightly in volume, “Here’s the part I believe will be the most interesting to you.” Hank continued reading from the book. “ ‘They hoisted him on the gallows and suspended him over a bonfire they had prepared for the occasion. It was almost midnight when all the citizens of the town assembled for the execution. Clergymen began to pray in unison in a ceremony that must have been in those times a kind of exorcism. After the completion of the religious rite, they set the wood on fire and continued to pray as the horrible warlock went up in flames. They tried to destroy the ax, but after their efforts were unsuccessful, they threw it into the flames.’ ”

  A bead of sweat began to run down Orville’s face as a heavy rain pelted the library windows in front of them.

  Hank continued, “ ‘Suddenly an inhuman scream came from the fire, and a deep voice filled the night as if amplified by the devil. The warlock’s hands and feet reappeared from their stubs, and two fierce eyes protruded from his black empty sockets.’ ” Hank turned the page and went on. “ ‘The demon’s words pierced the ears of the crowd with a force that was excruciating and almost maddening.’ ”

  “That’s some story,” Orville muttered.

  Hank looked up for a moment and continued. “I don’t know how accurate this is, but this is what an eyewitness wrote that Eli said to the crowd. Of course, this was written down the next day, and it might not be verbatim.”

  “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” Orville replied anxiously. “Read on.”

  One of the patrons looked over at them with a look of disgust and moved farther away to a more secluded spot.

  Hank’s voice took on a more Shakespearian flair as if he were beginning a soliloquy, and the words seemed like a prophesy from the devil. “ ‘Take heed puny mortals,’ Hank exclaimed. “ ‘How dare you interfere with my destiny to rule the world and serve my eternal master, the king of all evil. I have failed him because of you, and on this night, I must pay the ultimate price. But on this day, three hundred years from the stroke of midnight, I will return to finish what I started. My pain is your curse for when I return, all of the ancestors of those who are here tonight will fall to my ax. And I will savor every morsel of their flesh and every drop of their blood.’ ”

  Hank came down from his high horse and continued in a whisper. “‘The ax leapt from the flames into his mighty right hand, and he threw it like a bolt of lightning from his fingertips. The shimmering steel sparkled in the firestorm and swirled like a huge boomerang through the air. The razor-sharp blade swished through the necks of the three clergymen who stood before the warlock and magically returned to his outstretched hand as his body disappeared into the raging inferno. The clergymen’s heads fell to the ground, and blood spurted in a scarlet stream from their necks as the crowd began to scream with unbridled horror.’”

  “Wow! That’s quite a story,” Orville mused and scratched his brow. “John Carpenter and Wes Craven must be asleep at the wheel not to have put this warlock on the screen.”

  Hank looked at him soberly and appeared not to see the levity in Orville’s remark. Frowning noticeably, his voice became a bit shaky when he said, “There’s one more part I want to share with you before you split your sides laughing.”

  “Hey, don’t be so sensitive,” Orville said apologetically. “I just find the whole account something like a story about werewolves and vampires.”

  “ ‘Despite the fantastic nature of the event, there were over two hundred eyewitnesses to the execution of the warlock and the death of the three clergymen. In researching my book, I found over fifty accounts from those at the scene that were written by what we might call the reporters of the day. Every account is identical. Unlike the crucifixion of Christ, the accounts were written within days of the actual event. The graves of the three clergymen are in the Old Wakefield Cemetery.’ ”

  “You’re not saying you believe the warlock was real and was really consorting with the devil? I thought you didn’t believe in werewolves and vampires and such.”

  “I don’t believe in werewolves and vampires, but no one has ever said they were more than folklore. There’s never been an eyewitness account of murder at the hands of a werewolf or a vampire. In the case of Eli Enoch, over two hundred people say they saw him kill the three clergymen. How do you explain that?”

  Orville’s levity softened, and he suddenly realized this was not a fairy tale to Henry Gardner. The two men looked at each other for a
moment as if just beginning a game of chess.

  “Before you go back to whatever you were doing, I want to show you a few more sections in…my book of fairy tales.”

  “Hey, man, take it easy. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I need your help.”

  “I want to show you a map I put in my book from a news clipping I found in my research from the Ipswich Times.”

  Hank moved the book to the middle of the table and pointed to a section of the map: “Here, running down the left side of the property, is North River. To the right, about two hundred yards east, is what was called Willow Lake. Do these two landmarks have anything to do with your property?”

  Orville stared in amazement at the map of the area surrounding the warlock’s execution and said, “This is too spooky to believe. This is exactly the way the boundaries are today. When was this map drawn?”

  “A few days after the execution in 1697.”

  “Well, I was looking for some answers when I came to the library, but I never dreamed it would lead to this.” Orville looked at the dark, foreboding sky through the large plate-glass window in front of him.

  “Let me show you one more thing.” Hank took the book and turned a few pages to a list of names. “This is the reason I decided to write the book. Take a look at the names of all those who attended the execution that fateful night in October 1697.”

  Orville looked down the page and saw many names he recognized, and suddenly he saw an entry that sent a shiver up his spine. Sherman and Mildred Hinkle. Orville looked up at Hank with his mouth agape and stared in disbelief at the page. His wife had traced her ancestors back to when her family came to America, and Sherman and Mildred Hinkle were the first entries on her family tree.

  “What’s wrong, Son? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The old man looked puzzled.

  “I think I did just see a ghost. These two people are the great-great-great-grandfather and grandmother of my wife, Pam.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t be sure, but the two names are the same as on her family tree at home.”

  “Good God in Heaven. Then that would mean…”

  “That if this is not a fairy tale, my wife and children are going to die a horrible death four days from now at the hands of the warlock.”

  “I believe since you married her you won’t be excluded.”

  “I need to get Pam and the kids and get as far away from here as I can.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in warlocks?” Hank interjected.

  Orville scratched his head and looked into the trees out the library window. After a long silence, he said, “I don’t know what I believe, but better safe than sorry.”

  “I don’t know if running away will stop the warlock if he has the powers he professes to have.”

  “Tell me Professor…Hank, that is. What is your final assessment of the story? What do you think? Is it fact or fiction?”

  “I didn’t tell you before, but my ancestors also attended the execution. Since I have a big stake in the authenticity, I pulled some strings some years ago with some of my old friends at the police department and had the bodies of the clergymen exhumed. They sent whatever bones were left to the morgue to determine the cause of death. All three had their throats cut by a very sharp blade that severed their heads all the way through. Their heads were separated from each body in the casket.”

  “It appears that if the warlock returns, we’re all going to die at midnight on Halloween night.”

  “Can your friends on the police force help protect us?”

  “My friends are all retired, and the new ones wrote me off as a lunatic.”

  “Did you try to find any of the others on the list?”

  “I told the story to a dozen people, and they all laughed in my face. Most people today don’t have a clue about their family tree and don’t care about their roots.”

  “I know you’ve tried without success,” Orville said, “but I have to give it one more try to convince a few of these families that a lot of people are going die if we don’t do something to stop the warlock. Do you have a list of the people I could go to who live nearby?”

  Hank shook his head and said like he was looking at a man on death row, “Son, I know these people a lot better than you do. Even students I taught in school that had a high regard for me wouldn’t listen to a word I said. Most of them thought I had lost my mind. The others humored me for a while, but never intended to get involved. Imagine standing in Times Square in New York City trying to tell the masses that a warlock is coming this Halloween. Don’t you see how ridiculous that sounds?”

  “My family’s lives depend on stopping Eli when he returns. I’ve got to find a way to convince these people to help me save themselves and…the world.”

  Hank looked at Orville solemnly and handed him the book. “Good luck, Son. You’re going to need it.”

  “What are you going to do?” Orville asked.

  “If Eli comes, and I’m confident he will, I’ll be waiting at my house with a gun.” Orville looked at him, not understanding. “Not for him. For me,” Hank said as he stared into the rain. “Maybe you should think about this yourself. It won’t be pretty if he gets his hands on your wife and children. He’s a monster, and he’s seeking the worst kind of revenge.”

  Orville couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but he could tell it was futile to change Hank’s mind.

  Orville arose from his chair and departed the library with Hank’s book.

  Orville went back to Herb’s and starting looking up the names in the telephone book that matched the surnames of those in attendance at the warlock’s execution. He looked at the five-hundred-pound phone and, after taking a few deep breaths, started dialing.

  After spending four hours trying to find someone who would believe his story, he threw down the notepad in disgust and began to ponder his fate and the fate of his family and relatives.

  At dinner, Orville told everyone at the table what he had learned from Hank and read a number of passages from the book. He left out the details of what this unspeakable monster had vowed at the execution, but stated emphatically that their deaths and the deaths of countless citizens of Ipswich were imminent unless by some miracle they could vanquish the warlock. He confessed that his pleas to enlist the help of the community to accomplish the task were fruitless.

  Before anyone could fill in the blanks as to what was to come in only a few days on Halloween, Orville said defiantly, “I have a plan that I believe will stop the warlock, but in order to implement it in the time remaining, I need all of you and anyone else we can find to work day and night to prepare for Eli.”

  Orville’s resolve lifted all of their spirits, and instead of giving up, all five of them vowed to each other to do whatever they could to stop Eli from reaping havoc, not only on them, but on mankind.

  Orville went out on the porch and began to sob violently as the others turned in to get some sleep before they began the task at hand. He had fooled them into thinking his plan would work, but in reality, his heart was filled with despair.

  In the morning, they were up before dawn to implement Orville’s plan.

  The days passed, and the family toiled relentlessly. Three of their neighbors agreed to help with the task, but did not believe a warlock was really going to materialize on Halloween. The family hardly stopped to rest in the remaining days. The neighbors went home each day and returned in the morning. It took many trips to the hardware store to gather all the supplies Orville needed for his supposed miracle.

  Finally, the dreaded day came, and they continued to work until five minutes before the witching hour. Eli was due.

  The only lights in the black night emanated from the barn. Bug wackers sizzled as they had throughout the time they had worked. Dead flies covered the barn floor. Directly in the center of the barn was a huge pit, fifteen feet deep. The ax was embedded in concrete with two tractors resting on top of the slab.

  Orville,
Pam, Tim, Bobby, Herb, and the three neighbors stood on a platform that overlooked the pit, which was encircled by light bulbs dangling across its expanse to illuminate every nook and cranny of the floor below.

  The family joined hands and began to pray while the three neighbors sucked on three Buds and looked on at what they considered sheer lunacy. The neighbors had decided to stay to get a good laugh and to have another great story to tell to the town folk.

  Suddenly, the lights flickered, and the wind sounded like a thousand wolves howling in the black night. A cloud of smoke began to rise from the pit. Orville and the family continued praying as the neighbors dropped their Buds and stared with wonder as the smoke billowed and the beginnings of something not of this earth began to form in the pit.

  The eyes bulged in the hideous face, and claws began to reach up from the wormy depths. A shrill, maddening keening sound emanated from the pointed fangs that spread across a demonic grin that iced their souls.

  Orville stopped praying and gave the command for everyone to pull down on the ropes they were holding. All complied in unison, and eight larges containers of gasoline that were suspended above the pit tipped over and drenched the monster in mid-metamorphosis. The pit began to fill with gasoline that swept over the head and shoulders of the beast and enveloped it except for the clawed hands that were now completely formed.

  All but Orville retreated for the barn door. Orville remained with a torch, which he let fly into the pit. The gasoline ignited into a raging inferno, and the warlock, still only partially formed, shrieked in pain as his eyes darted about the pit and fixed on Orville. The warlock’s skin evaporated from its skeleton, and the claws melted into smoldering ashes.

  Orville ran to join the others outside as the entire barn was enveloped in flames that rose through the roof and lit up the midnight sky. The maddening shrieks began to subside, and the wind died abruptly as if God had waved a magic wand.

  The last thing that Eli saw before both his eyes exploded in flames was a banner nailed to the barn wall that read “Happy Anniversary, Eli!”