Raymond looked at his father, and then at Grace, who was behind the counter. The dogs were barking outside, and Raymond knew the mutated children would be here soon to murder whoever they could. This was a recurring nightmare that no one could wake up from.
“Raymond,” said The Skeleton Man. “I want to take you to see your sister. I need your help hiding from her. I need time to find the one we lost.”
“If I go, will this end?” Raymond’s voice trembled.
“Let’s find out,” said The Skeleton Man.
The children swarmed outside, waiting for The Skeleton Man’s permission to rush in and murder Raymond’s father and the waitress. They were already in the back of the restaurant, devouring the cook.
“Don’t go,” said Desmond as the fog started to choke him.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” said Raymond. “I have to try and help us die for good.” He took The Skeleton Man’s hand and was pulled into the fog. The children rushed in, and Raymond heard his father screaming in pain as the creatures tore his flesh from his bones.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Murder and Children
March 12th, 2012
“Alma,” said Stephen from the stairs. He was ashen, and spoke quietly. The stairs in the cabin were beside the kitchen, and led to a hallway with three doors. There was a bathroom, a master bedroom, and a guest room on the second floor and Stephen had gone up to check out the rest of the house while the others waited downstairs.
“What?” asked Alma.
“I think you need to come up here.”
Her stomach sank, an identical sensation to what she felt when coming over the hill and into the woods on the road before reaching Widowsfield. “Why? What did you find?”
“Just come up.”
She didn’t want to. The thought of ascending the stairs terrified her. She remembered how her father would scream at her whenever she dared go upstairs. Alma looked at the couch where her mannequin was sitting and remembered sleeping there instead of in the spare room to avoid interrupting whatever her father was up to.
“Want me to go check it out for you?” Paul offered to go up in place of Alma.
“No,” said Alma. She took his hand. “Just come with me.”
They followed Stephen upstairs, and Aubrey came after them. When Alma turned to look at her, Aubrey said, “Hey, I want to know what I’m in for by staying here. Whatever’s up there, I want to see it too.”
“Me too,” said Rachel as she came up behind Aubrey.
“Fuck that,” said Jacker from the kitchen. “You guys go ahead and check out whatever evil shit is up there. I’m staying right here. Fuck this place.”
Stephen led them down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was closed and he paused in front of it, as if scared to open it. “I don’t know what to make of this.”
“What?” asked Aubrey. “Open the door. What’s in there?”
“Alma, was there anyone else here besides you, your father, and your brother when everything happened?” Stephen still gripped the door’s knob, but didn’t open it.
“Yes,” said Alma. “There was a girl, named Terry. My dad was cheating on my mom with her. She’s the one that owned the cabin.”
Rachel put her hand on Alma’s back and rubbed circles on her. “I’m sorry, Alma. I didn’t know that.”
“Are there mannequins of them in there?” asked Alma. “Are they in bed together?”
“Not exactly,” said Stephen. He looked at the others and then at Alma. “You might want to go in there alone.”
“No, it’s okay,” said Alma. “No more secrets. I don’t care if everyone sees.”
Stephen nodded and then opened the door. He stepped back to allow Alma the chance to walk in first.
She only saw the room a few times in her life, but the details were burned in her memory. This was where her father would disappear for days at a time with his girlfriend. They would appear occasionally, staggering down the stairs and to the kitchen for food, but most of their days were spent in this square prison. The chemical smell of their drugs would waft out from under the door, which was one of the reasons why Ben and Alma decided to sleep downstairs instead of in the spare bedroom. They would watch their movies, with the television turned up loud enough to drown out the sound of the bed creaking when their father and Terry were having sex.
The room was the same as it had been, with a disheveled queen bed in the center, the covers bunched up in the center. There was a dresser with a clock on it, and the time was stuck at 3:14 even though it was much later in the day. The sink was dripping in the bathroom that was attached to the master bedroom.
There were two mannequins on the floor. One was hunched over the other, with his hands pressed inside the woman’s chest. The mannequin on the floor was battered and painted red. Its chest was cracked open and the male mannequin was reaching inside as if trying to pull the woman’s heart out. His arms and chest were splotched with red paint.
“I need to get my camera,” said Stephen as he went back down the stairs.
Alma felt dizzy as she stared at the depiction of murder, or cannibalism. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then the chemical smell of her father’s drugs stung her nose, like a ghost of a scent that seeped in through her frozen memories. She swatted at her nose and fell backward into Paul’s arms. He held her and tried to pull her back, out of the room, as she flailed at the air.
“What’s wrong?” Paul was frantic. “What’s going on?”
“Get me out!” said Alma finally. “Get me away from here.”
“Move!” Paul commanded the others to step aside as he carried Alma to the stairs. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“Wait,” said Stephen as he held his camera at the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t leave yet. We need to wait until dark.”
“No,” said Paul. “Fuck it. I’m taking Alma home now.”
“Wait,” said Stephen as he stood in Paul’s way.
Paul shoved his shoulder into Stephen. The cameraman fell backward and stumbled over the last step of the stairs. He fell and dropped his camera, which hit the floor hard. The viewfinder screen snapped off and skittered across the living room.
“You mother fucker!” Stephen got back to his feet and was ready to charge at Paul.
“Stop it!” Rachel grabbed her husband and tried to pull him back.
Paul set Alma down and turned to face Stephen. “Come on then, little man. Let’s do this.”
Alma stepped between the two of them. “Stop it, both of you! I’m okay now. I’m fine. I don’t want to leave.”
“Yes you do, Alma,” said Paul. “Whatever happened up there scared the shit out of you.”
“I know, but I’m okay now. I’m fine as long as I’m down here.”
“What about my fucking camera?” asked Stephen, still incensed.
“You should know better than to get in my way,” said Paul as he cracked his knuckles, still ready for a fight.
“Both of you stop it,” said Alma. “We all need to settle down.”
“Hate to interrupt,” said Aubrey from the top of the stairs, “but did you guys look in the bathroom up here? The tub’s painted red, like it was filled with blood.”
“This place just keeps getting better and better,” said Rachel. “Do you think they’re turning this place into an amusement park? They could call it Fucked-Up-Disneyland and sell group rates.” Her joke lightened the mood and she smiled as she went to pick up the pieces of Stephen’s camera. “It’s like Jurassic Park for ghosts.”
Stephen took the camera pieces from his wife and groaned as he looked at them. “I can probably fix it.”