Aubrey opened the door and they all heard a distant, booming voice. Aubrey stopped in the threshold and looked back at them. “Do you hear that?”
The group went to the door. They were cautious to make sure no security trucks were nearby as they went outside. A grey wisp of cloud moved over the sun, and its shadow was cast over the cabin for a moment as the group listened to a man’s voice in the distance.
“They must be playing some sort of message on a speaker or something,” said Paul.
“Maybe on the security trucks,” said Stephen. He then hushed the others as the voice grew louder.
“Come on,” said Rachel as she pulled at Stephen’s shirt. “Get back inside. The truck must be headed back this way if the sound is getting louder.” Everyone else ran back into the cabin, but Stephen was intent on hearing the message. Rachel continued to pull at him.
“I can almost hear what they’re saying,” said Stephen. “Something about Hank? Hank Waxman, does that make any sense?” He relented and went back inside with Rachel. They closed the door and stayed low as a security truck rolled down the street, again illuminating the cabin with flashing yellow light.
The message was muffled, but they could make out some of it as the truck went by. “…if you leave now, we can forget that you were ever here. Hank Waxman, we will contact the police if necessary…”
“Well, at least they’re not looking for us,” said Stephen after the truck passed.
“Yes they are,” said Jacker. “My real name’s Hank Waxman.”
“Fuck me,” said Rachel. “They must’ve found the van. God damn it.” She stood up and started to pace.
“Calm down, babe,” said Stephen.
“No, I won’t calm down. We’re fucked. We don’t have a choice. We have to go out there and hope they just give us a slap on the wrist and let us go. That’s the only option we’ve got now.”
“I can’t do that,” said Jacker. “I can’t risk them calling the police.”
“Look,” said Rachel as she tried to be reasonable. “We’re just going to have to take that chance. If they do end up calling the cops, then we’ll just get some minor trespassing charges. I know it sucks, but we don’t have any other choice here.”
“No,” said Jacker. “You don’t get it. I can’t risk them calling the cops.”
Rachel stopped pacing and stood stone still as she stared at the big man. “What are you saying?” She obviously already suspected Jacker’s secret.
“I’m wanted for a few things back home.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” said Rachel. Her cheeks burned red as her anger swelled. “Do you see, Stephen? What did I say about background checks? God damn it. Fuck!” Her frustration boiled over and she balled up her fists, ready to hit something in anger.
“What did you do?” asked Stephen. “Was it that bad?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” said Jacker.
“Well, you’d better start fucking talking about it,” said Rachel. She emphasized her curses as an expression of her anger. “What did you do?”
“I hit a guy,” said Jacker in a near whisper, as if he were shrinking away from the conversation. Even his posture slouched as he leaned against the kitchen counter.
“You must’ve hit him pretty fucking hard,” said Rachel. “Am I right?”
Jacker nodded.
“Did you kill him?” she asked. “Are we traipsing around the country with a murderer?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jacker. “Last I heard he was in the hospital. He hadn’t woken up yet.”
“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” said Rachel.
“Calm down.” Stephen walked into the center of the group and held his arms out between Rachel and Jacker. “Let’s just try and be rational for a God damn second. Okay? Running out there now and begging for forgiveness is a stupid plan, especially if we’re risking Jacker going to jail. Our best option is to just stay here and wait until after the 14th.”
“What?” asked Aubrey. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“She’s right,” said Rachel. “That’s a stupid fucking plan, Stephen.”
“Do you have a better one?” asked Stephen.
Paul stepped in and put his hands on Stephen’s shoulders. The argument was getting out of hand, and Paul tried to calm everyone down. “Let’s be smart, guys. If we wait here until nighttime, we can try to sneak out after that. Then, if we come back tomorrow we can go try to get the van. If they already got to it, then we can say we never went into Widowsfield. The van wasn’t on their property, so they’ve got no right to keep it.”
“What if they call the cops on me?” asked Jacker.
“You don’t have to come with us. I can tell them that you let me borrow the van. Even if they call the cops, they can’t prove you were here.”
The group was quiet as they considered Paul’s plan. Aubrey stood near the door, far from Jacker, and Stephen reached out to hold Rachel’s hand. The tension had calmed, and everyone seemed to agree that Paul’s plan was the best option they had. Still though, the fractures in their group weren’t mended, and everyone seemed ready to separate, even if it was just to opposite corners of the small cabin.
Alma held Paul’s hands and stood on the tips of her toes to whisper to him. “I’m not leaving.”
He was surprised, and scowled at her. “What do you mean?”
“I told you, I need this.” She spoke in a whisper to avoid pulling anyone else into their conversation. “I want you all to leave, but I’m going to stay.”
“I’m not leaving without you, Alma,” said Paul.
“Yes you are.”
“No, I’m not. You’re coming with me. I know you want to stay here, and I’ve tried to be supportive of this whole insane thing, but now it’s gone too far. I don’t know what’s going on in this place, or why they’ve set it up to mimic the past, but I do know that if you stay here, you’re going to get hurt. I’m not going to let that happen.”
“If I leave, I’ll never know the truth.”
“Alma, you’re being ridiculous. Listen to yourself. You don’t even know that this is going to work. Do you really think if you just stay here until the 14th that you’ll suddenly remember everything?”
“This place is trying to put us in order,” said Alma. “It wants me to figure this out. I can feel it, Paul.” She looked down at the kitchen floor. “I just have to try and calm down, and focus on the number. Maybe if I do it on the 14th, at 3:14…”
“Maybe what?” asked Paul.
“Maybe that’s how I can complete the circle.”
“Do you hear yourself?” asked Paul. “Do you hear how insane you sound?”
“Look around, Paul,” she said. “We’re way past sanity.”
Widowsfield
March 14th, 1996
Raymond stood in front of his father to protect him from The Skeleton Man. The Salt and Pepper Diner had been enveloped in the fog, and a brick had been thrown through the front door, shattering the glass. The fog seeped in like water and swirled at Raymond’s feet.
The tall, thin silhouette of the man with the chattering teeth appeared in the threshold of the diner. “Raymond,” said the demon. “I need your help.” His voice was a series of echoes in Raymond’s head, and though he spoke, the chattering never ceased.
“I don’t want to hurt my Daddy anymore! I want you to leave us alone.” Raymond held two kitchen knives, one in each hand, and prepared to fight off the demon.
“I don’t care what you want,” said The Skeleton Man. “This time I don’t want to play here. I need you to come with me.” He reached out his bloodied, skeletal hand through the fog.
“Raymond,” said Desmond as he lay on the floor. The fog thickened around the man’s limbs and held him down. “Don’t go with that thing!”