Authors: A.R. Wise
“With the house on Sycamore?” asked Nia.
Oliver nodded. “At first that was the only place that really mattered to me, but Lee had a really good point. He’s the one that suggested we focus on the buildings close to the house, because we wanted as much as possible to resonate properly. We got a little carried away, I guess. Before we knew it, we were bringing in construction crews to rebuild the whole darn town.” He chuckled nervously. “But we should’ve just stayed focused on the house. That’s all I ever got permission to budget for. That’s why I’m up to my knees in shit creek. Of course, my obsession didn’t turn into a bad thing for you and your friend. You guys are making out like bandits here.”
“
Yeah,” said Nia before quickly changing the subject. “Why is that house so important?”
“Whatever it was that happened on that day was influenced by what went on in that house
at the same time. We know who owned the house, and we have our suspicions about what occurred there, but we have to get as many details as possible right. It’s incredibly important that we make the cabin look exactly as it did on the day of the fracture. That’s why I need you so much. You’re the key to getting the details right.”
“And if I’m wrong?” asked Nia.
Oliver gave her a coy smile. “You won’t be. I trust you.”
* * *
“Are you okay?” asked Mindy as she held her friend’s hand. They were in front of the house on Sycamore, where a murder had served to taint the memories that plagued Widowsfield.
“No,” said Nia, but then smiled at Mindy. “But I’ve still got to do this.”
“Like hell,” said Mindy. “Look, babe, we’ve made a buttload of cash from this. If you’re right, and they’re going to fire us after you tell them about this place, then who gives a shit if we tell them to go fuck themselves? For real.”
“I’m not doing this for them, and I’m not doing this for the money.”
“What then? Is this some sort of personal mission for you?” asked Mindy.
“I’m not doing it for me either.”
Oliver and Lee were inside, setting up cameras and recording equipment so they didn’t have to write down everything Nia recounted about the building’s history. Mindy and Nia stood by the road, still hesitant to even step on the property.
“Then what the hell are we doing this for?”
“Because we might have to stop them.”
“Stop them from what?” asked Mindy in a hushed tone, like an adolescent telling secrets in the back seat of a car.
“From releasing whatever is trapped in there. This entire town is twisted, but nowhere as bad as in there.” She pointed to the open door. “I’ve never been more scared of anything in my life than I was by what I saw in there the first night we were here. But what scares me even more is that Oliver’s people are trying to free the creatures that live in those walls. I can’t let that happen.”
“And how are you planning on stopping it?”
“By lying to them about what it was like in there. I already gave them some details, after Oliver quizzed me about what I saw the first time we were here. But I think I can convince them that I was wrong before.”
“
That might make them question whether or not what you’re saying is true,” said Mindy.
“Maybe not,” Nia grinned apologetically at her friend.
“What’s that look for?” asked Mindy.
“I’ve been lying to you about something, and I know you’re going to be pissed at me for it.”
“Well that’s not reassuring,” said Mindy. “What did you lie to me about? Is this about how every time I wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not in the room?”
“
No, not exactly,” said Nia. “First off, you know that my ability has been getting stronger ever since we got here, right?”
“
Yeah,” said Mindy.
“Well, I’ve been practicing, and I can do a lot more with it than I’ve admitted.”
“Go on,” said Mindy, leery of where the conversation was going.
“W
ell, you know how Becky got in that accident after you and her got into a fight?” asked Nia.
Mindy nodded and kept her eyes on Nia distrustfully.
“What do remember about what happened to her after the accident?”
“She went into a coma,” said Mindy. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking ab
out it since it happened. I feel awful about it. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
Nia pointed at the ring that she’d borrowed for a few weeks after getting to Widowsfield. Mindy was wearing it again, and glanced at it in shock. She pried it off and held it out to Nia as if disgusted by it. “What did you do? Did you fuck with my head?”
Nia grimaced as she nodded. “Yeah, but I never meant for it to go as far as it did. It was an accident. I just wanted to test out the limits of what I could do, and it turns out I can do quite a lot. I can put memories into objects, and then transfer them into people.”
“What the fuck?” Mindy shouted.
“Keep it down,” said Nia as she glanced at the open door of the house where Oliver and Lee were working.
“What the fuck?” asked Mindy again, this time in an angry whisper.
“Becky never got in an accident. The only reason she hasn’t called you is because she’s still pissed about the argument the two of you got into.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Mindy.
Nia gave a plaintive nod and reached out to touch her friend’s shoulder, but Mindy knocked her hand away. Nia recoiled, saddened by Mindy’s anger. “I know it’s hard to accept.”
“You’re playing some sick trick on me. Becky nearly died, Nia. She almost died and I’ve been beating myself up over it ever since.” Mindy’s voice cracked as sorrow overtook her. It was a dangerous game to toy with a person’s memory, and Mindy was suffering for Nia’s experiment.
“It’s all a lie,” said Nia. “I used your ring to remember the fight you got into with Becky, and I twisted it. I changed what the ring remembered, and then I gave it back to you. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re lying,” said Mindy again, a pathetic accusation she hoped was true
so that she could cling to what she thought was fact.
“I’m not, look.” Nia took out her cell phone and dialed Becky’s number. Mindy retreated for a moment, but then leaned in as Nia clicked on the speaker phone option.
“Hey Nia,” said Becky. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
Mindy gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. She couldn’t stand any longer, and fell to her bare knees on the pavement.
“Sorry Becky,” said Nia. “I called the wrong number. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you back soon.”
“Okay, I guess…” said Becky before Nia hung up.
“I’m so sorry, Mindy,” said Nia. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.”
“Get away from me.” Mindy swiped at Nia’s outstretched hand. “You fucking monster. Do you know how this feels? To have a memory in your head that shouldn’t be there? Do you know what this is like?”
Nia nodded and said quietly, “All too well.”
* * *
Oliver took the glass candle out of his pack. “Here it is,” he said as he set it on the floor. “The final piece of the puzzle. This was the one that was tipped over, right?” He showed the Saint Francis themed candle to Lee.
The young
assistant shook his head. “No, I’m pretty sure it was the red one.”
Oliver glanced at the red candle that depicted a scene from Genesis known as the binding of Isaac, where Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son on an altar as a lamb hid in the weeds nearby.
“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn it was the other one.”
Lee glanced at his notes and shook his head. “Nope, you wrote it down right here. Red candle, Abraham and Isaac, spilled wax on floor,” Lee read off the bullet points.
“No kidding?” Oliver thought he remembered the white candle being the one that spilled on the kitchen floor when Amanda Harper was caught on tape performing an odd ritual here. He shook his head and looked at the time that they’d written on the floor: 3:14. “Now you’ve got me questioning everything about this setup. Was it a time that was on the floor, or just the numbers with no colon?”
“
You got it right,” said Lee as he referred to the notes. “A time stamp, not just the numbers.”
“Okay. And are the couches set up in the right places?” asked Oliver as he looked around the room.
Lee pointed to the far wall, on the opposite side of the room from the front window. “The small couch was there, and the larger one that the kids were on was here.” He tapped his finger on the back of the couch that was facing the television.
“And there wasn’t a chair or something in front of the window?” asked Oliver.
“Not according to what we wrote down.”
“I think I’ve been working too much,” said Oliver. “My head’s spinning with all these details.”
“It’s hard to keep them straight, no doubt about it,” said Lee as he reviewed their notes.
“Well, that’s why we’re keeping those.” Oliver pointed at the
blue notepad. “If I’ve learned one thing in my life, it’s to keep good notes. You can’t trust memory alone.”
Lee smiled and agreed as he held up the little blue notepad as if it were an award.
I treated that little blue notebook like it was Dead Sea Scrolls.
I carried it with me everywhere we went, sketching and keeping copious notes. By the time we finally got to the house on Sycamore that notebook only had three clean pages left.
I’m ashamed to admit that my extended stay in Widowsfield wasn’t entirely an altruist endeavor. I was getting paid, after all, and like I mentioned, I’d been able to get a raise from Oliver. Convincing him to focus on recreating the entire town was good for both protecting Alma Harper as well as for my pocketbook.
Unfortunately, Oliver’s boss in Europe eventually cracked down on him, and we were forced to speed up our experiment. Altering the details of the house on Sycamore wouldn’t be as easy as the rest of the town though.
After Terry’s body had been found,
Cada E.I.B. thought it was important to monitor all activity in the house. They took extensive crime scene photographs, which allowed them to recreate the home without the need of a psychometric. Then they installed cameras inside, and when Amanda Harper returned with her daughter in 1998, the entire event was caught on tape.
Oliver and I watched the tape together, and we studied the room, as well as the odd ritual that Amanda performed. Oliver let me take notes, which was how I was able to trick him once we got there. I convinced him that his recollection of the details was wrong, and our time together had built enough trust that he believed me.
In fact, he eventually trusted me even more than the videotapes themselves, and he relied solely on my notes and drawings.
He trusted a liar. Once that happens, the rest is easy.
Inside Cada E.I.B.’s Compound
March 13th, 2012
Paul opened the door that separated the large infirmary from a smaller office where his friends were being kept. Oliver followed behind, his gun pointed at Paul’s back.
Oliver had mentioned that sometimes the sleepers didn’t survive, and he was terrified that it would be Alma that was having a seizure. Instead, they were confronted by Aubrey’s thrashing body as they entered. She was cuffed to the gurney, just as Paul had been, but was jerking so violently that her wrists were already bleeding. Her eyes were open, but she stared at the ceiling even as Paul approached. He put his hand on her abdomen to try and keep her still, but she pounded up and down on her bed as if possessed.
“What the hell is going on?” asked Paul. “What should we do?”
“Where are Helen and Rachel? They’re supposed to be here!”
“What should we do?” asked Paul in anger as he held Aubrey down.
“Nothing,” said Oliver. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Paul was furious, and considered lunging at the scientist, but focused on doing what he could to help Aubrey. She was such a young girl, in her early twenties, and had been a vibrant personality in the short time that he knew her. She didn’t deserve to die like this, suffering an unknown ailment in an uncaring, discarded town.
White foam burst from her mouth and her gasps turned to gurgles.
“Her tongue,” said Oliver as he pointed at her with his trembling pistol. “She swallowed her tongue.”
Paul released her waist and grabbed her chin. His grip was wide enough to hold her entire lower jaw, as if he were a normal-sized man holding a doll’s head, and he tried to open her mouth. Her contortions were violently strong, and she gnashed at him as he tried to keep her mouth open. He could see the arteries under her tongue, now swollen and purple, facing outward as the tip was thrust deep in her esophagus. The white foam bubbled up from the small space around her tongue as she convulsed, and he was about to put his finger into her throat when Oliver pulled him away.