Dead Friends: Chapter 33

The week had dragged on, and already Lizzie wasn’t sure what day it was anymore. She could look on the laptop, at the calendar, and see if it was a Wednesday or a Saturday. None of it mattered. Her life no longer mattered. She was trapped out there in the woods, how could anything matter. There was nothing for her there except for the undead things that kept her locked inside. They had become her guards, this cabin was now her prison. What kind of life was she now exiled too, and for what crime?

What time was it? She was just getting out of bed, and the light was already high trying to pierce through the darkened windows. It was a weak attempt, only pinholes of it able to shine through scratches that had formed over time from where pieces of paint had fallen away.

She missed the sun, but knew that an open window was a harsh reminder to the dead that waited outside her door.

Her door…

The cabin door, there was a sound. It must have been what have woken her up. Someone was pounding at it. She had thought it had just been another part of her dream, a hold over from the apartment building that she always found herself in when she closed her eyes. Each night she dreamed of the old woman, and each night the building fell before she could get any answers. The faster she tried, the faster the building fell.

But no, this knock was real, and it was growing impatient. Whoever was out there was now slamming his or her fist down repeatedly, almost like they were trying to pound their way through the dark.

Maybe they were. Maybe the dead was trying to get in. Could they have grown that strong.

She didn’t like the thought of it, but always knew it would be a possibility. Once they had grown powerful enough to attack her when going outside, anything was possible.

Slowly, she slipped out of bed, trying to avoid the places in the hard wood cabin floor where it creaked the loudest. The dresser was next to the bed, and she eased a drawer open, pulling out a oversized flannel shirt. She slipped it on and then her jeans. The same jeans she had been wearing for a week as, who cared. She was out in the middle of the woods and she hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes when she decided to hide herself out in the middle of nowhere. 

They needed to be washed. She would, some day. 

The knocking continued and she held her breath trying to listen. Maybe it was the police. They could have found her. She didn’t think it would have been too hard, after all, her friends knew she was going to a concert with him, knew they had been broken up and that she resented him, and then boom, he was left dead in a hotel room over a hundred miles away from where they lived.

Why had she run away? She should have called the cops. She hadn’t killed him.

No, but was she going to explain to them that some weird shadow thing had reached into his chest and stopped his heart so that now Roland was an undead thing that existed outside of her cabin. Yeah, and how long would it be before she found herself locked up in that padded room.

The cops had probably found her lawyer, gotten the address for her cabin from him, and were now out there to take her in. She was about to be arrest. Then what would happen? She would be in a prison cell, locked away with half a dozen people who wanted to do nothing more than kill her so they could stop existing. 

She couldn’t open that door. She had to make a run for it and get away. 

Yeah, like that made any sense. If she ran into the woods, her dead enemies would still be there with her. They would run her down, and it would be like that dream she had of Jessica. They’d tear her apart, ripping away pieces of her while Sarah laughed at her.

She was trapped.

Maybe if she stayed really quiet, they would just go away, figuring there was no way someone would be living in this decrepit old house.

She eased into the living room, now only a short distance away from the door. Whoever was on the other side of it stopped for a moment, listening just like she was.

Lizzie couldn’t hold her breath any longer and she let it out as quietly as she could. She had held it too long, it was loud in the stillness of the room and now she was breathing hard to regain oxygen to her lungs. She was sure whoever out there could hear her, and that they were listening to her taking gasps of air.

Then the pounding continued. 

“Who is it?” Lizzie didn’t recognized her voice. It was tight and screeched with the words, wavering as she spoke. 

The knocking stopped, and she repeated herself, sure they hadn’t heard her over the pounding. This time she had more strength to the voice.

Whatever is going to happen, is going to happen. There’s nothing you can do to change it now, She thought as she approached the door.

“Hello?” Came the sharp, accented voice on the other side of door. British she thought, where it sounded more like he said “‘Ay ‘lo” more than the nasally “hello” she was used to in northern Wisconsin. 

Really, she’s out in the middle of nowhere, and some British chap was on the other side of her door. The only British person she’d met in real life was, well she’d actually never met anyone British. She’d only seen them on TV or in movies. There was actually someone British here, now? Her life was getting too damned weird. 

“Who is it?” She walked slowly to the door. It had some kind of protection to keep the dead things out, but no clue if it would protect her from intruders. She was a woman, alone in the woods, why had she never worried about men breaking in here. That should have been her first concern. Just what in the hell had she been thinking, not keeping the door locked. Maybe he wouldn’t try to get in. Yeah, and maybe he’s just there to have a nice round of fish and chips, whatever the hell that was.

The man had paused when he had heard her voice, no more knocking but he was still there. He was listening to her approach, that was it. He had stopped to hear when she would get close.

She stopped a yard away from the door, close enough to it to talk to him, but far enough away that if he burst through, she could try and run for the kitchen or even her bedroom. Neither of them great escape plans, but it was what she had.

“Is Mr. Hooper available?” 

Who the hell was Mr. Hooper? Lizzie had no clue. The man must be lost, or just acting like he was. When had she become this distrustful?

“Sorry. No one here by that name.”

“Really?”

“I think your at the wrong house.”

“Now I know that that’s not true. Miss, I’ve been here many times before and I am inquiring about Mr. Hooper. He was working on a clock that belongs to my master and my master has grown impatient with the lack of progress.”

Lizzie took a hesitant step to the door. Clocks… Something about the clocks rattled around in her head. Hadn’t her uncle said something about working on old clocks. There’d been something in his letter to her about them.

“You said Mr. Hooper was working on them?”

“I don’t think that was his real name. He was a weird sort, maybe that was why he was living out here, but he had come to us as being highly recommended and thought to be one of the best in the world. He had repaired a number of other clocks for my master and we’d become quite impressed with his efficiency and craftsmanship. He has our latest find, but he has not followed up with in a timely manner.”

Lizzie opened the door. Standing there and looking out of place with the cabin and woods around him, stood the Englishman in what appeared to be a finely tailored suit. He was facing away from her, looking at the yard and woods around the cabin and hadn’t noticed she’d opened the door.

A couple of yards behind him sat Elisabeth and Chuck. Chuck was sitting on the ground and Elisabeth was lying against him. She looked like she was crying while Chuck was keeping a watchful eye on her. None of the others could be seen and Lizzie wasn’t sure if that made her more or less comfortable.

Lizzie knew he couldn’t see them, but it almost felt like he did and was watching them.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hooper has past away.”

The gentleman turned to look at her, and a shiver ran down his eyes. His gaze was intense, his eyes dark in the shadows of the overhang. His noise was small and pointed and his mouth tight with disapproval.

She couldn’t hold that gaze for long. As he looked at her it felt like his eyes were burrowing deep into her soul and as it did, there was a cold that tried to invade her heart. It was like a hand made of ice reached into her chest and caressed it, making it hard to breath and blood flow becoming erratic. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking of that night, the shadow man on top of Roland as it took his life from him.

“Then I would like my master’s property returned to us.” The man made a move to come inside the house, but Lizzie refused to step out of his way.

“It’s not in here. It might be in the barn.”

“Then we shall retrieve it.” The man said, taking a step back, obviously frustrated at not being allowed in. Then he looked back over his shoulder and Lizzie was again struck by the sense that he was looking at the dead couple as they were now both watching them. Sarah had stepped around from the side of the house and all three of them were watching curiously as the man turned back to Lizzie.

“Okay, go back there and grab whichever one is yours.”

“You won’t be accompanying us?”

“You know which one is yours. I have no clue.”

“I’d feel much more comfortable if you would join us. I am not in the habit of fumbling through another’s domain.”

Lizzie looked at her undead guards and then back to the Englishman. Would Sarah and them attack her on the way to the shed? Lizzie hadn’t been there yet, but she thought she had read somewhere from her uncle that the path and barn were protected. Had she actually read that or was it just wishful thinking?

She hadn’t left the cabin since that night. She hadn’t showered for even longer and couldn’t imagine how bad she smelled. The man was being kind enough not to acknowledge it, but she had to have wreaked like the dead. Yet he wanted her to take him out to the barn, and be in an enclosed area with her. He must really want that clock back.

…Or he really wanted to get her someplace dark an isolated.

That didn’t make any sense. She was already isolated. How much more isolated could you get?

“Su-Sure. I’ll meet you out back.” She didn’t mean to stutter over the words but she’d gotten trapped in the man’s eyes again.

He released her by turning away. She watched him go down the stairs before she closed the door. There was no way she was walking around the house. Josh had ventured into the front yard and they had all been watching the stranger. Curiously, as she closed the door, she again sensed that the stranger was watching them as well.

Now she had to meet him around back. If she knew the man, and trust him, she’d just hurry through the kitchen, but who the hell was this guy. She wanted some kind of weapon. Even if the Englishman didn’t put her nerves on end, it still wasn’t smart to go out there with a stranger. 

Was there a gun somewhere in the house? She’d been cleaning the house a little each day. There was still much she hadn’t found, and so often she would get sidetracked by reading more of his diaries. Still, there wasn’t any firearms and she hadn’t seen anything large like a gun cabinet or secured like a small gun safe. So unless her uncle practiced very poor firearm safety, she didn’t think he owned one.

What kind of person lives in Wisconsin and doesn’t own a firearm. Sure, maybe if you were from Madison, but everywhere else in the state had common sense. What if a wild animal came around or even a bear. That wasn’t uncommon to see, they did have bears up here.

But that wasn’t true either. There were bears in the woods, yes, but nearby there wouldn’t be. The wildlife knew better.

So no gun. Nothing to arm herself with.

She entered the kitchen and felt that familiar pain and a twinge of guilt knowing this had been where Sarah had died. It was brief and quickly she focused her attentions on finding some kind of weapon to take with her.

“Hello? Miss? You never told me your name. Miss, are you coming?” The man was on the other side of that door. It was the door she had fallen from to get away from the smiling dead man. It was also the door that lead to the barn. She knew she’d have to go through there or walk back around the house.

“Just a minute.” She called back. Near the sink was the silverware, inside she found a set of small knives. She’d debated on grabbing the butchers knife one drawer over, but there was no way she could conceal that. A small steak knife wasn’t much of a weapon, but her uncle had purchase good quality and the little blade she worked along her arm felt sturdy. She just had to find a way to secure. 

“Miss, please don’t keep me standing out here all day.”

Lizzie opened another drawer and pulled out the plastic wrap. She hastily pull out a stretch of it, fighting as it bunched up, but still wrapped it around her arm a few times. She hoped that would hold as she let the sleeve of the flannel shirt fall back into place.

It wasn’t much of a weapon, but if this guy meant her harm, she didn’t have much of a chance to begin with.

She went to the door and pulled it open. Outside, was a cool October day, or was it November now? Her sense of the time had been lost being out there. The trees were nearly bare, the leaves forming a bed of dead and discarded to be walked on. The clearing around the house was covered in them, and nowhere was there a trace that animals had been through there to rustle them. 

The woods were still, the air quiet as not even a breeze dared to stir. They were in a place out of time.

“Please, I must get this piece back to my master.”

“If it’s so important, why didn’t he come?”

“He is very busy and doesn’t make public appearances, especially during daylight hours. Just know what his money is good.”

Lizzie eased herself down, remembering when she had fallen out of the kitchen when she hadn’t realized that the steps were gone. The Englishman reached a hand out of help her, but she waved him off. Just being this close to him put the hairs on the back of her neck on end, the last thing she wanted to do was touch him.

As she heard the gravel crunch beneath her feat, she looked around. She saw all her dead standing in the back yard. Were they going to rush her, or rush the both of them? No, they were all just standing there, watching them. They seemed to be studying the man, and were as weary of him as she was.

Lizzie, you should just run right back into that house and lock the doors. Hide. Get away from him. Get away from him now!

The voice was screaming inside her head, and she had a hard time ignoring it. What was it about this man? She pushed down her fears, and lead them both to the barn. She had to admit to herself that she was more than a little curious as to what they were going to find in there. She’d been wanting to explore it, but feared what it might contain as well as the dead that surrounded her, hellbent on doing her harm.

The door was unlocked, only held closed by a large wooden board that was held in place by metal hooks. She pulled up on the board. It was heavy as she feared, but as she wiggled and worked at it, she felt it lifting from its holders. The Englishman stood behind her, and she was thankful that he didn’t try to help her.

She set the bar to the side of the door with a grunt and looked back to him. He was turned away from her, looking over to where Roland stood by the house. They seemed to be glaring at each other. 

“You’ll have to point out which one is yours.” She said as she opened the door.

“He didn’t leave them labeled?” The Englishman seemed to be astonished by this, which Lizzie shrugged off.

“I don’t know if he did or not. I haven’t been in here before.”

“These pieces are worth a lot of money. Anyone could just come and claim them? You need to be much more weary Miss.” 

Lizzie was beginning to get the feeling that each time he said ‘miss’ it was because he was trying to get her to tell him her name. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that giving him her name was a very bad idea. It wasn’t just because of her uncle having never done so. There was something else, some instinct that told her that giving this man her name meant he would have some kind of control over her.

She shook off the feeling as they both stepped into the building.

****

Inside, it was a barn, not the insidious killing chamber that had somehow filled her thoughts over the last couple of weeks. She thought her uncle couldn’t be wrapped up into anything satanic or crazy garbage like that. Maybe at first, when Sarah and her both had visited the place. There was crazy runes and markings throughout the house that had made them question it, but reading through more and more of his diaries, she couldn’t see that man being part of something so obviously sinister. 

Her uncle seemed to be more about just surviving than getting into the dark stuff. He was like her, trying to figure out what was going on, but not having much information to work with. Many of this books in the house were dealing with Wicca and finding ways of using earth magic to push back the dark forces that followed him.

So why had she expected something truly hideous out there?

You were trying to convince yourself of something bad out here so then you wouldn’t want to come see it. You didn’t want to take the chance that they would attack you again.

And that was true. She didn’t want another confrontation with Sarah, whom she still tried to reconcile her once friend with the monster who now lead the dead outside.

“This place is a mess.” The Englishman said as he turned on lights. The switch had been next to the door, but she had ignored it as she had just stepped inside, looking around not having ever seen anything like how her uncle had designed it. She assumed it was him.

For starters, as the lights flickered to life, she was taken aback by just how much light there was. It gave the sun filled day outside a run for its money as there were lights everywhere. That wasn’t surprising considering what she read about how he feared the shadow woman, as he called her. Lizzie still felt the shape looked more like a man, but it was really hard to differentiate. 

The ceiling was high, which she supposed was to be suspected in barns as they were such tall buildings, and hanging from them were rows of lights. There were many fluorescent lights, but there were also rows of string lights that cascaded lower. This was supplemented by more string lights that weren’t hanging but a part of the actual tall ceiling which seemed like their only purpose was to keep out shadows above the hanging lights.

All of these lights shined down to a very bright area where there were no dark shapes. The wooden tables that should have had shadows beneath them were lit by under table strips of the same string lights that hung high over head. There was absolutely no shadows to be found.

Along the walls were work benches, the area left cluttered with tools, parts and clocks in various stages of completion. The center of the area had a table with three clocks lying on it and next to it stood two grandfather clocks that were both taller than her.

Then all of it ended. About half way to the back of the barn was a void, an ending to everything that was light as the room just ended in darkness. It had to be a large curtain her uncle had put up and she was curious as to what lie beyond it. 

“It’s a little too bright for me.” The Englishman said and Lizzie looked back to see he had retreated to the threshold of the barn. He looked ill, his face twisted in discomfort.

“You okay?”

“Yes, l’ll be fine. If you would please, retrieve my master’s clock. I believe it to be that one, right there.” He was pointing at one of the ones that was on the table, and she was glad to see that it wasn’t one of the ones that looked like it was open and ready for some major clock surgery.

“But your sure your going to be okay?” 

He was rubbing his lips like he needed a drink. She’d seen that look having been around one or two alcoholics in the past. It was the look of desperation, that need to have something when they knew they should try not to give in. It was usually the look one had right before they crashed and found the bottom of a bottle faster than anyone should be able too.

The man nodded and gave her a quick glance, but then he returned to staring at the clock.

She stepped over to the table and reached out for the one he had pointed to, but stopped as her hands neared it. There was something…off about the clock. There was some kind of energy that pulsated from it. She could feel a rhythm coming from it, but it wasn’t from the mechanical innards. The clock wasn’t ticking at all, nothing was working to tell time as far as she could see. Yet, there was something thrumming from it, like it had its own hum.

She could feel her stomach getting queasy and knew it was just being in such close proximity to the item. It didn’t matter if there was something wrong it with, she just needed to pick it up and hand it to the stranger. Then she would never have to see the device again and this feeling would just go away.

Something itched at the back of her skull and she knew that if she gave it to the man, this feeling just wouldn’t go away. It would stay with her and eat at her very soul. This clock was a part of her now, and it was evil. It wanted to devour her. It wanted to devour any live soul that ever touched the device. Any living flesh that caressed its crimson varnish would always be a part of it.

She looked over to the Englishman and saw the black gloves that he wore. He knew. He knew that if she touched it, there would be something that would happen to her. He wasn’t going to touch it himself, he had worn the gloves. She hadn’t thought of it before because, well, he was English. She had thought it was just something he wore and had with him, like an umbrella and wearing a top hat or whatever those hats were called they had on their heads.

He wore no hate and he had no umbrella. Those gloves weren’t for some formal style.

She turned back and looked at the clock. This time she studied it, but was careful not to let herself touch it, no matter how much she felt herself being pulled to pick it up.

She had been wrong before. The intense light above hadn’t gotten rid of all the shadows. In fact, as she looked at the clock, it seemed like there was all kinds of them. And there were those dots on the face of it. She could almost believe that they were eyes that were looking at her, but that made no sense. Like how the arms seemed to twist up and reach out for her, stretched to become tentacles. There were all these shapes, runes on the face of the clock, tattoos of different colors, but they danced together until they too went black. That blackness joined with the hands as they elongated towards her.

She blinked and pulled herself back just as she felt it was getting near her. She had to turn herself away, and physically step back so she could breathe, the air having been sucked out of her lungs. Her head was whoozy, she wasn’t sure if she  we going to fall or pass out as the barn was spinning around her.

“Miss?”

She looked over to the man, but he wasn’t a man anymore. He was a tall black shape with horns protruding from his scalp and long nails from had been his hands. Those weren’t hands anymore, as she could see now the large claws that talons protruded from. 

He listed a leg, he was going to take a step into the barn but stopped himself. It was too late. She saw now that he wasn’t wearing shoes. His feet, they were hooves and there was just the trace of hair coming out from under his suit leg to sprout over the hoof.

She took another step back, now close enough to one of the work benches to reach out and grab it for support while she continued to work at pulling in large puffs of air. She continued to breath in air as she closed her eyes. Mentally she started the count, “One, there’s now such thing as demons. Two, there’s no way a clock was just about to invade your mind. Three, it was not about to steal your soul. Four. Five. Six, there is no such things as demons. Seven, Eight, and your dead best friend and ex boyfriend shouldn’t be outside either but they are. Nine. Ten, there’s no such thing as demons.”

She opened her eyes and looked to the Englishman standing in the doorway, his demonic shape gone leaving only those deep hollow eyes to look at her. She didn’t however, turn to look back at the clock. She didn’t have too as even before the crazy vision had started, the foulness of that design would be burned into her mind to be seen every time she closed her eyes.

The wood had been varnished in a dark crimson as though soaked in the blood of man and left to dry into it. She hadn’t been able to make out many of the details, but like the runes she had seen swirling on the face, there had been similar ones burned into the wood. Each of the top corners were adorned with red carved jewels that were shaped into gargoyle like creatures whose mouths were open, long fangs extending ready to bite. Not only was the clock hungry for her, but she felt like even these depictions of creatures starved and thirsted to taste her. 

Even with her back turned to the thing, she feared that it was reaching out to try for her once again. She wanted to turn around to make sure it was still sitting where she had set it down. She knew she was turning, she needed to know…

She had to physically reach out for the work bench to keep her from turning around. Her shoulders tended as her body went rigid with anticipation in feeling its icy touch, but she couldn’t do it. Instead she focused on her breathing.

What the hell was that thing? Why did her uncle have it in his work place.

“Miss, I can see you are not feeling well. If you’d just hand me the item I will gladly be on my way.”

She wanted to turn to the man and tell him to come in there and get the damned thing himself. He wanted the thing. She didn’t want to go near it again and she was sure as hell not going to touch it. He must have realized what she was thinking, as he eased closer to the threshold and was looking around at the room.

“I think I see some gloves behind you. If you do not wish to touch it, you may were those.”

Lizzie turned and sure enough there was a box of latex gloves open, one glove partially dangling out of the top. She pulled out two, pulling them on the pushing out the air trapped in them. They felt like powder to the touch.

She didn’t look directly at the clock, keeping her face turned away and only seeing it out of the corner of her eye. Even as she did so, she could see tendrils of darkness floating around it, ready to seek out a new victim to be entangled into its web. 

The wood was like ice, she could feel it freezing chill even though the gloves, and she knew that even though she wasn’t looking at it. Those dark tendrils were wrapping around her hands as she picked it up. Their touch could be felt on her wrists and goosebumps formed up and down her arm. The desire to turn and look at it burned in her chest. She refuse to breath, instead staying focused on shuffling her feet as she made her way to the door. 

She felt the weight lift from her and nearly turned to look at the Englishman holding it. She averted her eyes, but saw out of the side, that he was looking directly at it. The darkness did not reach out to him, but ignored his presence. They were there, but not their for him.

He produced a cloth bag from somewhere, she wasn’t sure where, and slipped it over the clock.

“I’m disappointed that Mr. Hooper was unable to get the clock working.” He said as he continued to hold the clock. Now she could look at him and watch as he held it delicately, holding it from the bottom and keeping it close to himself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry his death is an inconvenience to you.”

The Englishman looked at her sharply over the top of the clock.

“I could walk with you back to the house? Maybe we could have some of tea?” 

“I’m all out.” Lizzie said, and she wasn’t sure what it was, but she no longer felt safe leaving the barn while he was there. It wasn’t like her she felt safe in the barn, even with that clock gone. There was something about the house that when she entered it, and t felt like the weight of the dead was lifted from her. That effect, she realized, didn’t extend to the barn. Much of the pain she’s realized, the loss of friends, how they were killed all because of her, came crashing down on her harder than before.

“Well, I would like to sit down with you and have a chat. My employer loves to help those who are seeking to stay hidden from the world. I’m sure you have some skill that he would love to help nurture. It had been per luck coming across Mr. Hooper, but my employer has an amazing ability for seeking out individuals. I think it would be beneficial to both of us if we could go inside.”

“I’m sorry, but not today.” There wasn’t a chance in hell that Lizzie was going to let him in the house.

“That’s too bad. May I inquire as to why?” He looked around as though checking out the additional dead who had been gathering around them while they were in the barn. Lizzie noticed that none of them ventured onto the path. 

Lizzie, don’t fool yourself. That’s probably just a coincidence. They’ll still attack you the moment they get a chance.

And she thought that was probably true. Still, she wasn’t the only one watching them. He was as well, and he turned back to her showing her the first hint of a smile she had seen on his stoic face.

“I could at least walk you to your cabin.”

He held out a hand to her, now holding the clock with just one hand. 

She didn’t know why, but every sense inside her told her not to trust this man. It had nothing to do with the craziness the clock had showed her, but she couldn’t shake that demonic image from her head either.

“I’ll be just fine.” She said, not take a step past the threshold.

Slowly he closed his hand that she had left ignored. He then looked at her straight into her eyes. She could see the darkness there, lurking behind them, and then nodded to her. Then he was gone after having turned to quickly walk back around the house towards the front.

She didn’t leave the barn. She waited until she heard the sound of his car starting and the crunch of gravel under his tires as he drove down the long driveway. The sound never came to her.

Most of the dead had lingered near the barn, but Roland had followed the man around. After awhile he came back and rushed over to the barn. 

“He’s not leaving.”

“What?” 

“He’s just sitting in his car, watching the house.”

“What the hell is he waiting for?”

“I don’t know.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why the man was still there either, but as long as he stayed, she wasn’t leaving the barn. She was trapped there.

Trapped in the house, trapped in the barn, what difference does it make?

She pushed the thought out of her mind as she stepped away from the door. Looking around, she found nothing other than stools near work benches to sit on. She didn’t feel like sitting up, so she closed the barn door and leaned back against it, sinking slowly to the floor.

“Trapped again. Trapped, trapped, trapped yet again.” she chanted as she closed her eyes and rest her head back against the hard wood.

Dead Friends: Chapter 26

Lizzie looked at the piece of paper in her hand. It had multiple spots across it from dried tears and she realized there were a few spots that held fresh tears. Her own that she hadn’t realized had fallen as she had read the note. She wished there was more written, but as it was, the page was filled front and back with the words spread to the edges. Some were even hard to read as they came so close to where it had been ripped from a spiral notebook and still held the remnants of the binding.

She folded it back the way it had been, trifolded as though it was a letter getting ready to be sent and put the paper back in the envelope addressed to her. Her uncle had never been around, but she scrambled for memories and barely caught them, thinking of times when he had been there. There was something, she barely remembered it, but as she struggled, she thought it was there. A few memories actually. She thought she had one of him and his wife as they had come to dinner and she had ran between his legs, laughing, only to have him chase her through their house.

There was another memory, one of her as a baby. She often had always had this one, but so many times thought it was more of a dream than a memory. Maybe it was, but it was still a fun dream. She was crawling, still a baby. She was in her grandmothers house and crawling as she though newly discovering some mythical ancient land. There was this large object, at the time she barely knew what it was, but in hindsight recognized it as a flowery fabric covered couch that her grandmother used to have that had become her parents couch for awhile. 

She had made it to the edge and was about to go into a forbidden zone, not that she cared as she was an explorer off on adventure. Though when she had reached it, she had sat up for a moment to look back at her mom and dad sitting at the kitchen table, talking to her grandmother. None of them were paying attention to her as her mother held her grandmothers hand and were looking at each other. This was her chance, and she wasn’t sure if she really realized it or not, but in this dream memory, she knew she had to take it. She turned back around and got in the crawl position to make her escape around the corner.

That was when a pair of large hands grabbed her from under her arms and pulled her up. She saw his smiling face, his happy eyes, and heard that deep laugh as he exclaimed, “Caught ya.”

Was the memory real? Were any of them? Memories of her uncle always felt so surreal that she was never sure. So much time had passed since she had seen him.

She put the envelop on the kitchen table and stood there, looking at the rest of the garbage on it. This was her house now, it was her refuge. She was going to have to clean it, and she didn’t have much else to do. There were also things she might find when she did. It didn’t sound like her uncle had many of the answers she was hoping for, but maybe there had been things he had overlooked. He had all those years to research it, and he had found the talisman so he had learned some things.

That table, that damned dining room table, so full of junk. It was as good as a place to start as any, but did she have any garbage bags. When was garbage pick up, she should call the city and find out. He had said all the utilities were paid, which surprised her as she was surprised he was even on city lines. With how remote the house was, she would have expected to have a generator or something, though she supposed there had to be one for the winter. She would have to check the barn for that as well.

She looked over at the kitchen, the door was closed as it always was. That swing back door haunted her and she felt cold every time she looked at it. Just anyone could sneak in there and hide in waiting and she wouldn’t know it until she went in. It was how Sarah had died, next it would be her turn as she was now all alone.

She had to go in there to find garbage bags, mad at  herself for not bringing any with her. That seemed like something she should have thought of at the convenience store. With how much garbage was scattered throughout the house, her uncle may not have any. 

“Hey bitch!” Sarah screamed from outside. Lizzie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. Sarah had been quite for the last hour or so. They all had been, but now as Lizzie looked at the kitchen door, it was like she had been able to read her mind to know Lizzie was thinking about her.

Lizzie walked away from the yelling dead and stepped into the kitchen, taking deep breaths as she did. No one was in there. The house still that disturbing quiet that she didn’t think she would ever be able to get used to. She would have to do something about that, maybe find her uncle’s laptop and stream music or something. 

The kitchen was easily the cleanest room of the house. Part of that was probably from the cleaners, but the little bit she should remember from the last time she was the, it had been pretty clean then too. He had taken care of this room, no papers scattered about, but just a place that was kept well maintained so the food cooked there would be edible and not send anyone to the hospital for food poisoning. Though, thinking of what her uncle was going through, that may have had more to do with it than actually caring for the room itself. A trip to the hospital could spawn countless of new dead surrounding the house.

You had gone to the hospital and no one had died…

But there had been people who had died. They just hadn’t died while they were there. The shadow man had waited. Had waited and like her uncle had said in his note, had toyed with her until the right time to take their lives. How had the shadow man known when that would be? He couldn’t have. He just had to have been very patient. 

She should lock that thought away, as she felt knowing he was extremely patient was good to remember. Though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was patiently waiting for. It involved her, or her bloodline, that was obvious.

She stepped all the way into the little room and noticed for the first time the little slant to the room and how much of it looked newer than the rest of the house. This was an addition. Her uncle had mentioned something about the changes he had done to the house in his note. This room must be added on. She thought about that as she continued to looked around, letting the door go and whoosh shut behind her.

The house felt disturbing and alone again, that feeling of dread she had felt outside returning. It was deep in the pit of her stomach, and she looked back at the door to the rest of the house, wanting deeply to rush back to the otherside.

This was an addition, so maybe what made her feel calm and safe there, didn’t apply to the kitchen. The dead man had been in the kitchen, not the rest of the house. He hadn’t been able to…, but yet the dead outside couldn’t get in there. 

“So whatever protected the house, didn’t protect the kitchen, but something else did.” She said it out loud, letting her thoughts out in the quiet place. They seemed louder than they should have. She definitely needed to start listening to music or something or else she was going to do a lot of talking to herself. 

“What was it they said? It was okay to talk to yourself as long as you don’t talk back?” She said as she walked to the other side of the little island  counter in the center of the room. “Sure that was it.” She said in response to herself, letting out a little cackle at her own inner joke. 

She looked back to the door to the house again. Her eyes always kept coming back to it. With it closed, she would never know if another surprise waited for her out here. She doubted she would ever have issues in the house. The note made it sound very safe and she believed it. The kitchen didn’t feel like the rest of the house. She couldn’t rely on the same protection.

What was she going to do about the door.

She walked over to it and studied its hinges. The door swung both ways, but as she studied the hinges she wasn’t sure how the things worked. She understood how regular hinges did, but these were different and were alien to her. Regular hinges she could take a butter knife to and work the pin free to remove the door. The double hinges weren’t like that and she couldn’t see any access to the pin. 

How could she get the door off? She would probably have to remove the whole hinge, using a screw driver to remove the hinges from the wall. Though, that seemed like it would be a project and she wasn’t ready to start modifying to house just yet. Instead she looked around for something heavy and found a block of kitchen knives, the base being made out of wood. She grabbed it and used it to prop open the door.

“Wa-la!” She said as she stepped back to admire her handy work.

“Proud of yourself in there?” She heard the voice, and turned to see who said it. She recognized it, but hadn’t heard it in a while. He had never been one to say much to her. She didn’t see anyone standing behind her, she was still alone in the room.

Chuck had to be outside, which made sense since he couldn’t come into the warded house, but still felt disconcerting that he would know she was in there. Could he somehow see inside? She was never sure what their deathly abilities were as they always seemed to be able to do more than what they let on.

“I am, a little.” She walked over the back door and opened the interior wooden one. She forgot that the screen door was still broken from its frame. It would probably always be broken as she was afraid to go out there to fix it, and afraid to call a handyman to the house. What if the man came to the house and was killed. She couldn’t call anyone to the house. Any time she did, she would be putting their lives in danger.

Chuck was standing at the door, and she looked down at him, nervous as there was no visible barrier between them. She thought he couldn’t get in to attack her, but it was hard to imagine something unseen keeping him away.

“You okay?” She said to him. They hadn’t really talked much since his death. He had always blamed her for it, and his anger had been obvious. Then when Josh had come along, Chuck’s role seemed to have become the protector for the other dead as Josh had been angry with all of them. What was his role now? As he was the first to talk to her since the talisman, had he become the peacemaker?

The anger she saw that darkened all of them since their time in the other realm was present on him too. No, he would attack her is he could, just like the rest of them. They all blamed her, as they should, but she hadn’t known what the talisman would do. She was sorry, but how do you apologize for sending someone to hell for nothing they had done.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

She looked back at the door she had just propped open and back to Chuck.

“Why not?”

“Not the door. You shouldn’t have done that us.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You shouldn’t have done that to us.” he repeated, his eyes digging into her own.

“I know. I didn’t know what it would do, I just wanted peace.”

“Peace! Peace! How do you get to want peace!” He screamed at her, his anger blazing as he rushed at her. She jumped, slamming her back into the refrigerator and feeling it rock. 

It took a moment to calm her breathing. Any second, she expected to feel his hands on her throat, his teeth tearing into her flesh, and his…

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as she looked back to where Chuck had been. He wasn’t there, but was on the ground a few yards back. His eyes were wide as he looked around in shock. 

Slowly he stood, looked back to the door, and then ran towards it, again lunging after her. This time she watched, not worried about him getting in to her, and she saw as he hit the threshold, and with a white flash of light, he was thrown back across the yard.

This time when he got up, he kept his eyes locked on her, and she saw that fire burning hotter. He was slower to make his way to the back door, not lunging for it. He walked casually, his hands opening and closing into fists.

He reached the threshold and stopped there, studying the frame before looking back to her. Then he nodded, and stepped away from where she could see him. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make any threats, just studied the house and the frame until he was gone.

She didn’t know why, but that scared her more than if he had made the threats. 

She looked at the path leading back to the barn. The letter had said she’d need to go there. She didn’t feel safe doing it, not yet. Instead she studied it from a distance. It wasn’t anything special. It just looked like a barn, maybe a little smaller than some she’d seen used for farm equipment, and it definitely needed some paint. Still from a distance it looked sturdy enough.

She turned away as she closed the back door and left the kitchen.

5 Stars for “Caught in the Web”

The latest review for “Caught in the Web”… I truly love her enthusiasm.

“OMG I just don’t even know where to start!! This book Scared Me and Creeped Me Out and Kept Me Wanting More!! I did not read book one so I was not sure if I was going to be okay. Well I WAS!! Just when you thought there could not be another spin on the Zombie Genre Jason Davis Does It!! I am left with SERIOUS ARACHNOPHOBIA after reading this book. Imagine being quarantined in a town and not knowing it. Then you have spider eggs that are hatching around you caring a virus that will turn you. You are sitting in a bar that you think is safe trying to figure things out. Will you make it? Will the Spiders get you. Is the Military you friend or foe. After reading this book every time a see a spider web I will be doing a double look forsure. The narrator of this book did a great job. I will have to get first book!! Yet this book was Creeping Spectacular” – An Amazon review

You can read “Caught in the Web” free on Kindle Unlimited, or purchase the Kindle, Paperback and Audible versions on Amazon!

If you are in the Wausau, WI area, please support our local bookstore, Janke’s Bookstore and request your copy today!

~~~ And remember you can read the first book in the series for free just by signing up to my newsletter.

Thank You,

` Jason