* * *

  "Ugh! What if I didn't even go to Peter's today?"

  I slapped myself in the face. I waited for the pain, but there wasn’t any.

  I sighed and fell back on the bed. I recited the rules in my head. I wasn't breaking any of them at the moment, but it bugged me because I knew they could walk through walls, the little blonde one had touched the back of my arm the first night I saw her under the weeping tree. I rubbed my elbow to make sure it wasn't icy. I realized I had moved.

  Hoping I didn't call attention to myself, I slowly moved my arms back to a resting place under the covers.

  I had broken one of the rules that night. I had turned to go to the kitchen to make something to eat. I had turned my back on an open window.

  "Jesus."

  So what was the trick, the loophole? Was it that she saw me and I couldn't see her coming?

  "Is anyone there?" I whispered into the darkness.

  My heart rate increased, and my mouth went dry. I waited. There was no answer. I relaxed, rolled over onto my left side and closed my eyes.

  I opened them.

  What if I performed a test? It was a stupid idea. Let's piss off the ax murdering ghost children. Really smart, dumbass.

  I couldn't help wondering, What would happen ...?

  I threw back the covers, but I didn't move. I licked my dry lips and groaned at my stupidity.

  I stood, checking my resolve.

  I moved to the door and touched the knob to see if it was cold. It wasn't. It was a good sign, I thought, but of course, it would only be cold if one of them was holding onto the other side. There was a chance Joshua was standing there, or perhaps the mean little girl was sitting and pouting across the hall.

  Under the door, I thought.

  I got down flat on the Tomb’s floor. I closed one eye like I was aiming a gun. It was much easier to see through to the hall than I thought it would be. I could see a faint amount of light coming in, but no feet. There was nothing there but the sea of hardwood and a few collections of dust.

  I got up and opened the door slowly. It could all just be a trick. After all, dead or alive, they were kids, and kids were sneaky. Perhaps being a teacher would give me a slight upper hand.

  I exited the Tomb and crept down the hall. I was moving so slow I could feel the bottoms of my sweaty feet sticking to the floor.

  The night was silent and still. At the landing, I peeked down but saw nothing. I inched down the remaining stairs, keeping myself hidden as much as possible. I peered into the living room, but unless they were hiding, there were no ghosts.

  I relaxed and went to the living room shutters and peered out between them. The moon wasn't full, but there was enough light for me to see clear to the street.

  Nothing.

  Even though the shutters were closed, I made sure not to turn my back to them. I stepped backward until I was safely back to the stairs.

  Just go to bed, I told myself.

  I stalled. Again, I warned myself, Go to bed. Don't do it. I thought how beautiful it would be to have a good night's sleep. I pleaded with myself, but I couldn't make the nagging in my head go away.

  I took a deep breath and marched back to the living room shutters. I reached out my hand to touch the little, brass hook that held them closed.

  Such a small hook, I thought.

  I flipped it up with my thumb, and in one motion I opened both shutters. I stood there looking out into the yard.

  All was peaceful, calm, and still.

  I stepped closer to the glass and looked across the street where the neighbors' houses were dark. The same was true for the homes to the left and the right. They were all closed up like clams. Nothing was stirring.

  What was I doing? Why couldn't I just conform to the shitty rules and go to bed? I would never be happy in Middwood, but I could be content with what I had. Why risk everything for some simple curiosity?

  My heart rate increased and my breath shook. "I have to," I said, even though the voice didn't sound like me.

  I closed my eyes to gather my strength.

  I slowly turned until my back was fully to the window. I bit my lip, and I took a step back. My bare skin touched the cold glass. My skin tightened from the touch of the surface; if nothing else I knew I was awake. I counted in my head, 1... 2... 3... Leaving the shutters opened, I stepped toward the stairs.

  Instinct and fear told me to run, hide, but I just walked.

  Two steps from the windows, my back flared with intense cold.

  It was happening. Their eyes were on me. I'd called them.

  I pictured a phantom soaring across the darkened lawns and streets. Oddly, I only imagined one of them, but I couldn't tell which. My mouth spoke: "He's here."

  The silence was deadly. Then footsteps crunched through the leaves on the yard. I kept moving, trying not to run. If I ran, they would run, and they would catch me. Hard-soled shoes marched onto the porch, unafraid of making their presence known. When I was halfway up the stairs, there were multiple raps and bumps against the window frame and glass.

  Then it got quiet.

  I didn't turn around. I couldn't. I knew they were there. At least one of them was in the house. Cold air emanated from behind me. The part of my back that had touched the glass was so cold it burned.

  A dim glow from the opened living room window crept up the stairs. The light cast my shadow on the hall wall.

  As I climbed, another shadow joined mine. We moved together toward the Tomb. I could hear their breathing. I could smell the damp air.

  The bedroom was only three more steps away.

  Hot urine poured from me, soaking my crotch until it ran down my leg.

  I bolted forward, leaping into the Tomb and shutting the bloodwood.

  Voices shrieked but were muffled when the bloodwood shut them out.

  Why don't they come in? They entered the house somehow, so why not my room?

  It hit me. They couldn't see in. Under the door, shadows frenzied about. If they got down on the floor, they could.

  I lunged to my bed and whipped the sheet from the mattress. I turned, dove to the floor, and threw the sheet at the base of the door and stuffed it into the gap.

  The ghost wailed. Their shrill voices sent me backward against the farthest wall. They beat on the wood so hard I feared they would break it down.

  I forced myself to my feet and moved to brace the door, the urine dripping from my pants around my feet. I pressed my hands flat against the freezing wood. The bitter cold was so much for my hands that I turned my back and pushed instead.

  The added pressure made them even angrier.

  "Stop!" I screamed.

  The banging stopped. I listened, but my heart was beating so hard, and my ears were ringing so loud I couldn't tell what I was hearing.

  I swallowed hard, and my ears popped.

  My hearing returned to low moans swelling in and out of human octaves. It made tears swell up in my eyes.

  The cries died out and hours passed, but I stayed firm, all night on my knees, holding the door.

  59

  Sunday, November 8, 1964

  Sunrise 7:04 am. Sunset 5:29 pm.

  * * *

  I woke up in the Tomb alive. Granted I was on the floor, and my back and neck were stiff from straining, but I was alive.

  Last night wasn't a dream. I had turned my back on an open window and they came into the house. Their screams had filled the air, and I had felt the weight of their pushes and bangs on the bedroom door. All of it was real. The ghosts were real.

  "Stop it," I shouted. My mind zoned out. I couldn't think. I was the blown bulb in the string of Christmas lights. Realizing and accepting the truth of ghosts changed everything. It would take me some time to understand how, but I decided sticking to the town rules was a good place to start.

  I thought my students and the townspeople were simple backwoods hicks, but they had been living with the phenomena for thirteen years, some of them had been born into the madness. If they were ever to leave town, to venture out into the wider world, and speak of ghost children, town rules, or devil paintings, they would be put away in the nut house.

  I had taken a glimpse behind a curtain I wished I didn't know existed.

  "I should leave."

  Then it hit me. "My car."

  I rushed to the main floor, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. The living room window was still open.

  I dismissed it and pushed opened the front door.

  My heavy eyes focused on my beautiful, banged-up baby. The Falcon waited for me on the road right outside, flirting with me like a hot, willing woman. I bolted down to the street and hugged the warm hood. Let the world go to hell or fall away, I didn't care. I finally had my car back.

  I got in the passenger side and slid into my seat. I gave myself a little bounce and settled into my spot as I gripped the steering wheel. I put my hand on the key and closed my eyes. Images of the Falcon eating white lines on the highway filled my rattled mind.

  I turned the key.

  She roared to life with a mighty greeting.

  I glanced down at the gas gauge in shock.

  I had almost a half a tank of gas. No Christmas had ever been so sweet.

  "I can leave," I whispered. I was sitting in my ticket out of Middwood. In a few hours, I would have to go before the town and apologize for my sins against their children. I would have to kiss the feet of Randy Bankward and stay in his good graces even though I knew he was a slime-ball, and, news flash, Daddy-o, the town was haunted.

  "Yeah, let's get the fuck out of here."

  I cut off the car and ran into the house. I frantically packed. I didn't sort anything, just started throwing my crap in any box or bag that was nearby. A voice in my head kept telling me to hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  Wiping the sweat from my brow, I threw my belongings in the back seat. I marveled that I'd gathered everything I owned in only one trip.

  Back inside, I stood, looking around the living room. It was a beautiful house, but for each thing I loved about the home, there were bad dreams, two hellish little girls, and a hooded boy with an ax.

  I left the key on the table behind the sofa and walked out. Some of the neighbors were looking out their windows.

  Boy, they were nosy. "Good riddance."

  The Falcon kicked to life, and I double checked the gas gauge—half full. "Thank you, Jesus!"

  For the second time in just over a week, I raced to free myself from a bad situation with a gift of gasoline. I needed to break the surface for air, and that barrier was just beyond Keeper’s Bridge and over the spine of Black Bear Mountain.

  I threw the car into gear and sped off. It was too early for church, so I would be able to avoid unwanted attention, but I wouldn't have to tell anyone I was leaving because one of the many gossiping bitches would see me and the whole town would know before I hit the county line. I didn't have a full tank of gas, but I had enough to get somewhere else, anywhere else. Just not Middwood.

  As I approached the gas station, Eddie was nowhere to be seen. It was like heaven was shining down its graces on me. "Let's go, let's go." My muscles tightened as I drove over Keeper's Bridge, but once I was over it, it was like my soul relaxed. Turning to the right, I floored it. My car was alive just like when I first got her. We were both free, and we would fly out of here, start over again.

  The engine cut off.

  Panic rose inside me as my heart and my jaw dropped.

  "What? No. No!"

  I stomped the gas. The engine didn't roar, didn't purr, nothing.

  "I just got her back! Come on!"

  I turned the wheel as hard as I could and coasted, pulling to the side of the road.

  "It's fine. I'll just re-crank her, and we'll be on our way."

  I turned the key... and nothing happened.

  Nothing. No click. No tick. Not shit.

  I punched the roof of the Falcon, and I put my head down against the steering wheel and screamed. "I just want to leave!"

  I wanted to cry, but I lifted my head. Anger pooled and swelled in my jaw and face. "Shit!" I hit the steering wheel, took off my glasses, and threw them down. I was stalled out in the same fucking place as before, less than three hundred feet from Keeper's Bridge.

  I got out, and I kicked the dirt, cursing Casteel and his entire family. I gritted my teeth until my jaw hurt.

  I would be stuck in Middwood another night. People saw me load my stuff into my car and it would spread through the town. Fear hit my spine, and I stood at attention. What would they do to me if they thought I was fleeing? Would I be stoned in the church? I snorted at the thought, but then fear gripped me. "What will they do to me? What would Bankward do? Shit!" I put my hands to my lips and bit my curled index finger.

  The evidence needed to be hidden. I pulled the two bags from the backseat, popped the trunk, and hid everything from view. If people heard I ripped out of town, they would come snooping around the car to see for themselves. I could call Peter to help me smuggle stuff from my car back to the house, if I was still alive.

  I peered up at the mountains that surrounded me. If anyone was up there, they could be hidden from view, watching me. Maybe I was paranoid, but I still found myself squinting into the trees. It would take too long to scan such a large area.

  I dug through my bags for something to wear to church. With my car between me and the town, I changed my clothes.

  I would try and make it look like I was taking my car out for a drive. I would tell everyone, Yeah, I was happy to have it back, but unfortunately, it died again. I’d joke about me being a city boy and Casteel not being able to fix cars. Maybe everyone would laugh.

  I heard a car coming, so I hurried and finished changing before they came into view. Of course, the car slowed as it veered into the other lane to avoid the Falcon's tail. I turned and did my best to grin and wave as all four heads in the car locked onto my face and twisted until they couldn't turn any further. I looked away, but I imagined that their heads continued turning around entirely.

  I couldn't leave the Falcon sticking out exposed like that. I put her in neutral and stood in the open door, pushing until the back was clear of the lane.

  I sighed in relief, but my car continued rolling. "Whoa whoa whoa!" I shrieked grabbing at the frame, but she went down into the shallow ditch.

  I grabbed two handfuls of my hair and pulled. "What the fuck is going on!" I roared as I stamped around in the dirt, having a conniption fit. "Fuck!" I slid down into the ditch and looked for damage. She was fine. "You are all I have, baby girl. I'll send help soon. I promise."

  Another car was coming, and with that, I climbed out of the ditch, and stepped into the lane, stopping the vehicle. The couple rolled down the window. "Hi, I'm the school teacher. Would you mind driving me to church I don't want to be late."

  "Of course, get in," the man said with Christianly concern.

  "Thank you." I reached in and shook his hand. "Such a blessing. I just got my car back, and I wanted to go for a quick ride, but the devil had a different plan."

  "That's where you are wrong, brother. God had a different plan."

  "Amen. Thank you for that. That makes me feel so much better."

  I got in the back seat and made sure to wear a grateful grin even though his words shook me. He said “God had a different plan.” I wasn't sure it was God, but there had to be something at work against me. My car stopping in the exact same spot was too much of a coincidence for me to think otherwise. Could it be true? Were the unseen forces of the town keeping me here?

  "So, we forgive Gary? Amen?" Pastor Gresham asked as I stood next to him on his right and Gary Shindle stood on his left. I couldn't believe what was happening.

  The congregation repeated, "Amen."

  He turned to me. "My people perish for lack of knowledge. This foolish young man, made a poor decision, putting your children in danger, but luckily, brothers and sisters, God had mercy on the children of Middwood. This time our children were spared. This time God's grace prevailed. This time we are able to learn and grow. Yes, we need to grow from this experience. Throw off spirits of hate, anger, murder, and walk in forgiveness. That is what God is saying to me this morning, forgive. Forgive not just Mr. Christian, but also our very own Franklin Mullis for keeping Matt in the dark about the true dangers of the town."

  My eyes widened, and I turned to Gresham. I hadn't even considered Franklin getting blamed for any of this. He'd been sent to the principal's office, too. I couldn't help thinking I should defend the old man. I tried to hold my tongue, but I couldn't let someone get in trouble for me.

  "Franklin told me about the rules, but I broke them. Franklin is a good man. He—"

  Gresham put his heavy hand on my shoulder and gave my shoulder an uncomfortable squeeze. We exchanged a glance. I could only guess, but I felt like he knew what I was doing and even why I was doing it, but it didn’t matter.

  After a moment, I turned back to the congregation and regurgitated what I was told to say before the service. "Parents and children of Middwood, I want to apologize for my actions. I was in the wrong, and I thank Mr. Bankward for setting me on the right path. I can't begin to imagine how worried you were. Again, I ask for you and... God to forgive me. From now on, I will follow the town rules to ensure the safety of my students."

  I couldn't believe I was able to get that out.

  "Matt, that is honorable of you, and you are right, you are both good men. Brothers and sisters, we need a teacher up at that school and other than the mix-up on Thursday, the children have given only positive reports on this young man of God. That is why it is the decision of the elders of this church to forgive Matt Christian for his sin and we encourage the town to do the same. Can I get an amen?"

  The amens were not all as quick as I would have liked, but the church was in agreement. For some reason the memories of getting baptized played over in my mind. Wearing a white choir robe as I walked down a path to a creek behind my Rose-Mary Grand's church. I'm sure the First Baptist Church of Middwood did baptisms, but I couldn't help but wonder if they also had a stake behind the church for burnings. I got their message plain and clear, and if I was going to survive long enough to get my car back and get out of town, then I'd have to lay low and play along.

 

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