Grave Girl (14 page)

Chapter Four

"The Devil is here!" Father Jones shouts as he barges through the door of Mayor Winters' office. "Right here in Rippon! In the church, no less!" Pausing for breath after his exhausting run across the town square, the old man is almost bent double as he feels a pain in his chest. "The Devil," he continues, gasping for air. "He's here! I warned you, all this sinfulness has lured him into our midst!"

After a moment, Father Jones stands up straight and looks over at the other side of the room, where Mayor Winters is sitting with a stunned look on his face. Unaccustomed to such sudden and dramatic interruptions, the mayor was busy dozing in his chair since his return from the cemetery, and he'd hoped to make it all the way to lunch before being roused. He certainly hadn't anticipated being so rudely interrupted by a member of the clergy.

"Did you hear me?" Father Jones shouts. "The Devil!"

"What devil?" Mayor Winters asks.

"How many are there?" Father Jones replies, hurrying over to the desk. "The Devil is here. In this very town. All these years of sin and greed and modern living have caught up with us. I hope you're satisfied. It's under your leadership that the morality of this town has reached such an appallingly low level. Don't think I haven't seen that some young, unmarried little trollop has taken up residence in the cemetery cottage. You've disrespected the old ways, and now there's a price to pay!"

"I think you might be a little confused," the mayor replies.

"The Devil is here!" the old man shouts.

"The Devil?" Mayor Winters says, staring blankly at the old man. "You mean...
the
Devil?"

"I saw him," Father Jones says. "Well, not directly, but I saw the mark of his presence. He came right into my church, as brazen as the day he was born, and he walked right up to the altar and he... he..." His voice trails off as he finds himself overcome by the emotion of the whole situation. Even though he has long despaired of the moral fortitude of Rippon's residents, he never thought that the Devil himself would be lured to the place.

"Would you like a brandy?" Mayor Winters asks, trying to be helpful.

"Alcohol?" Father Jones replies, unable to hide his sense of shock. "After everything I have just said, your solution is to imbibe the Devil's potions?"

"Just a small glass?"

Overcome by fury and utterly unable to speak, Father Jones leans on the desk for a moment. His mind is briefly filled with horrific visions in which the entire town of Rippon is ripped asunder by demonic forces, burning the residents and dragging them down to the pits of Hell. He has often been consumed by such flights of fancy, which tend to give him something of a thrill, but this time his fears seem far more substantial.

"Do you mind if
I
have a drink?" Mayor Winters asks, checking his watch and seeing that he's more or less in the lunchtime zone.

"I don't know why I bother," Father Jones replies, his voice filled with anger. "For forty years, I have served this town faithfully. I have sought to spread the word of God, to encourage the citizens of Rippon to live pure and saintly lives. In some small ways, I have succeeded, but it is clear now that I have failed the community as a whole. I do not know who brought such darkness to -"

"So where is he?" Mayor Winters asks, interrupting him.

"Who?"

"The Devil." He pauses for a moment. "Do you think he's going to stay? Has he booked a room?"

"There is only one solution," Father Jones continues. "We must pray. We must all pray, and offer ourselves to God so that He might grant us salvation."

"That might be difficult," Mayor Winters replies. "You see, I'm not sure that the people of Rippon are very keen on such things. I mean, they're happy to pay lip service to the whole idea of the Devil, but when it comes down to it, I'm not sure how many of them actually believe that he's... well... real."

"Not real?" Father Jones roars, sweeping his arms across the desk and sending Mayor Winters' papers flying across the room. "Is that what you'll say when you're thrown into the pits of Hell? As the Devil laughs in your face, will you scream that he's not real?" Leaning across the desk, he grabs Mayor Winters by the collar and pulls him closer. "Are you such a fool that you would dare speak up to the Devil in such a way?"

"Not really," Mayor Winters replies, trying to get free from the old man's grip.

"Then you have no choice," Father Jones continues, pulling him even closer. "You must ensure that the people of Rippon gather together in the town square in one hour's time, so that we can project our love to God and hope that he will forgive us our many, many... many...
many
sins. Is that understood? Do you accept the need for such a show of faith?"

"I suppose so," Mayor Winters says, "but I'm not sure how many people will -"

"You must compel them!" Father Jones shouts, shaking the mayor's collar violently. "You must use your words to drag them from their homes!" Finally letting go of the mayor, he turns and strides to the door, before glancing back at the desk. "You claim to be a leader of men, Mr. Winters. Now is the time for you to show that you are not just hot air. Now is the time for you to lead this town and demand that its citizens return to the right path. If you do not live up to the demands of your role, I can assure you that you will swiftly witness the collapse of Rippon into the pits of Hell." He pauses for a moment, mainly for dramatic effect. "One hour!" he roars finally. "The town square! See that it is so!"

With that, Father Jones storms out of the office, making his way into the town square and striding purposefully back toward the church. Determined to ensure that the Devil does not take control of Rippon, he's convinced that he can drive the beast out of the town, so long as he has the support of the local townsfolk. If this does not happen, however, he fears that the whole of Rippon will be dragged screaming into the fires of Hell.

Chapter Five

Standing in the middle of the mausoleum, Sam stares up at the children. It's them. It has to be them. They look like they've been caught in some kind of huge spider web, except it's
not
a spider web: it's a series of ropes that are holding them in place, hanging from the ceiling. The strange shapes on their backs appear to be faded, painted wings made of wire and paper, as if someone decided it'd be nice to give them some decoration before hanging them up like this. The creepiest thing, though, is their faces: each head has three red patches of blood in the bandages, approximating two eyes and a mouth, and its from these patches that drops of blood occasionally fall.

"Hello?" Sam shouts, deciding that she really,
really
wants to get the hell out of the mausoleum. She steps over to the door and starts banging, hoping that even if there's no-one else in the cemetery, maybe someone in the nearby street will hear her. It's a long-shot, but it's worth a try. "Hello?" she shouts again. "Girl trapped in tomb here! Can anyone hear me?"

Nothing.

Silence.

Sighing, she thinks of the empty cemetery stretching out around the mausoleum. With a mounting feeling of dread, she realizes that she's kidding herself if she thinks that she has any chance of being heard until someone actually comes close to the mausoleum. At least Mayor Winters said he'd be back later, which means she's not going to wither away and starve indefinitely. The biggest problem is the cold; while the sun is shining outside, in the mausoleum it's absolutely freezing, and the constant drips of icy water aren't helping. Hugging herself for warmth, she walks over to the other end of the mausoleum and -

"You're cold," says a voice suddenly. A hushed, whispered, slow and raspy voice, but a voice nonetheless. It sounds distant, and after a brief moment of blind panic, Sam realizes that it's coming from over by the door.

"Hello?" she shouts, heading back to the entrance. "Is someone out there?"

"You're cold," the voice hisses again, from just on the other side of the door.

"I'm trapped in here!" she says. "You need to turn the key and pull the door open. It's heavy, but I can't do it from inside!"

She waits. Nothing.

"Hello?"

"You have a visitor," the voice continues.

"I..." Sam pauses for a moment. "I have a visitor?" She stares into the darkness, trying to work out what the voice means. "Look, can you just let me out of here?" she says eventually. "We can chat once you've done that, yeah?"

"You're safer in there," the voice says. "For now."

"Safer in here?" Sam pauses again. Her pulse is racing and she's finding it harder and harder to keep from panicking. "I'm really
not
safer in here," she says after a moment. "I'd like to get out, if that's okay with you." She waits for an answer, but the voice says nothing. "Please," she continues, "can you just let me out?" She bangs on the door. "Please?"

"Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Sam."

"Who are you?"

"My name's Samantha Marker."

"Who are you?"

"I'm
Sam Marker
!" she says, getting increasingly annoyed at the repeated question. "I'm the gardener here, and I -"

"Gardener," he hisses.

"Yes, I'm the gardener, and I -"

"There have been many gardeners here," he continues, suddenly seeming rather talkative. "You're not the first, but you'll be the last."

"The last?" After a moment, she realizes that this is probably just those kids again. For all she knows, there could be a whole bunch of them outside, giggling away as they extend their prank. Sighing, she figures she needs to find some way to get this over with, or she might be stuck in the mausoleum all day. "Look," she says eventually, "I know this probably seems really funny, but I need to get out of here. I need my insulin, or I'll get sick." That's a lie, but she figures it might snag their sympathy. "If you open the door, I'll wait a minute before I come out, and no-one'll know it was you who locked me in here, okay? You won't get in trouble. Just let me out."

Silence.

"Hello?"

"They're waiting for you," the voice says.

"Who?" Sam asks, before reminding herself that this is just a bunch of kids. "Listen, I really need my insulin. I could go into a diabetic coma if you don't let me out. I know you don't want that, so just open the door and we can draw a line under this whole thing, okay? I'll even let you come inside and take a look around, if you want. There's some pretty fucked-up stuff in here."

"The last gardener will face the world's end," the voice continues. "Are you ready?"

Sam swallows hard. These kids are really laying it on thick.

"There must be two," he says. "One for the day, and one for the night. You are for the day."

"I am?"

"The night gardener sleeps."

"The..." She sighs. "Someone's been watching too many horror movies," she says eventually, before banging on the door again. "I'm gonna be blunt here. If you let me out now, this whole thing can be swept under the carpet. But if you make me wait until someone else shows up, I'm gonna let you have it. There are cameras here, you know." That's another lie, but she figures the kids won't know that. "I'll check the tapes, and I'll be able to see who you are, and I will fucking
own
you." She pauses, realizing that her attempts to sound scary aren't working. "Look, let's just tone this whole thing down and pretend it never happened." She waits for an answer. "I really need my insulin, guys."

"When the ground splits open," the voice continues, "you will see his face."

"Uh-huh. I'm getting bored now. That's what you're doing. You're boring me."

"And when you see his face, you will know that you have reached the world's end. You will look into his eyes, and you will bear witness to the reflection of everything dying. This is the duty of the last gardener. And those above you will reach out and seek life once again. Even the little one."

"That's great," she says, "but -" Suddenly, she realizes that there's a sound coming from
inside
the mausoleum. A shuffling, creaking sound, as if someone is tearing cloth. She turns the torch and shines it at the coffins, and then finally she looks up and sees that the children have started to move. Wriggling in their bandages, they seem to be trying to get free. Finally, one of them is able to get its arm loose, and a bandaged hand reaches down toward Sam. She ducks, as the others also get their arms free and reach for her.

"I don't know how you're doing this," she calls out to the kids on the other side of the door, "but it's very funny. Very impressive." She pauses, forcing herself not to panic. After all, that's what they want; they want to hear the fear in her voice. That's what she keeps telling herself, anyway. "You've done a great job," she shouts, "but enough's enough. Let's call it quits, yeah? Why are you doing this, anyway? Are you live-streaming it or something? Let's just agree that you've pulled off something pretty cool, and -"

Suddenly there's a tearing sound, and one of the bandaged bodies falls from the ropes, landing with a crunching thud in a puddle on the ground.

"Jesus," Sam mutters, watching as the body slowly starts to move again. After a few seconds, it raises its head until its bandaged, blood-stained face is staring straight at her. She steps away, but the body slowly starts wriggling toward her. Unable to hold back the panic, she turns and starts pounding on the door, dropping the torch in the process; the bulb blinks off, and she's left in total darkness, still banging for help as she hears the body making its way up behind her. Finally, she hears a rasping, guttural growl close to her ear.