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His father scowled and slammed his palm on
the side of the tub. “Don’t be an idiot. She’s dead, dead, dead,
and you killed her. You stupid fuck, I’m trying to help you. You
want to go to jail for the rest of your life?”

“No, sir.”

“Then do exactly as I say and don’t
contradict me again. Terry is dead. We have to figure out how to
get rid of her body. Are you crying? Are you seriously crying?”

Ben shook his head, but the tears wouldn’t
stop.

“You’re the one that did this. You’re the
one that came into the bedroom when you weren’t supposed to. You’re
the one that thought he was an adult. Well, this is what adults
have to deal with. Okay? You need to act like an adult now.”

“I don’t want to,” said Ben pathetically. “I
want to go watch my movie with Alma. I don’t want to be an
adult.”

“Too late, Ben. It’s too late for that. Now
go downstairs and see if the water is boiling. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Ben ran out of the bathroom.

His father yelled out to him, “Bring the
water up once it starts to boil.”

Ben ran to the kitchen and yelled at Alma to
leave him alone as he cried. He got a pair of oven mitts and then
stood by the stove, watching as the water sat on the burners.

“Ben, please tell me what’s going on up
there.”

Ben just shook his head and continued to
cry. Killer spun in his cage and started to bark when a flash of
green electricity illuminated the room.

Alma stood beside her brother and waited for
the water to boil. She didn’t say anything, but seemed to want to
be supportive of her brother as he was obviously struggling with
something terrible. Ben lifted the pot off the stove and walked
past his sister. He was careful as he carried the pot up the
stairs, but some of it still spilled over the edge.

His father was in the bathroom, and had
filled the bottom of the tub with some hot water from the tap.
Terry was now laying at the bottom of the tub, her hair waving in
the water and her bloodshot eyes staring straight up. Her mouth was
open and the white foam still bubbled between her red, chapped
lips.

“Good job, kid. Set the pot on the toilet
and get the bleach. That’s the white jug over there, with the blue
cap. Yeah, that’s the one. Go ahead and push down on the cap and
turn it. There you go, you’re doing good. Now bring it over here
and pour it in the tub. We’ll figure out how to do this. You and
me, kid. We’ll figure it out. We’ll melt this bitch down to bones
if we have to. Okay? Good, good. Just pour it in the water like
that. You’re doing great. You’re a real adult now, a big boy. All
adults have to do this kind of thing from time to time. There’s no
need to cry, just keep pouring. Yeah, all of it. The whole
thing.”

The bleach stung Ben’s eyes and he had to
turn away as his father continued to speak in a manic slur of
words.

“Go ahead and get the purple stuff. The
bottle with the yellow cap. Twist it off the same way you did the
bleach and then pour it in too. That’s a good boy. You’re a pro.
You’re making me proud.”

Ben’s father stepped back and stood in the
corner of the room. He continued to bite his nails as he watched
his son pour the chemicals into the tub.

“Go ahead and pour all of the bottles in.
Fuck it, just pour them all in there. One of them’s got to do the
trick. Is that everything that you could find downstairs? Yeah?
Okay, well I guess it’ll have to do. Pour the hot water in. Just do
it. Don’t even think about it, just pour it in.”

Ben held the pot and leaned over the clawed
tub. The smell of the chemical soup was sickening, and his eyes
stung from it. Every time he breathed, the air seared his nose. He
tipped the large pot and the boiling water started to pour in.

Terry screamed out as the water hit her
skin. She wasn’t dead, and the searing water awoke her from
unconsciousness. She reached out and grabbed Ben’s head in an
attempt to find anything to hold onto. She pulled, and Ben felt his
feet lift off the floor.

His face splashed down into the boiling soup
of chemicals in the tub.

CHAPTER TWENTYONE

Alma’s Lost Truth

March 14th, 1996

Alma was still in the kitchen, watching the
water boil, when she heard Terry scream. Then Ben started to wail
even louder and Alma refused to stay downstairs any longer. She
took a steak knife out of the butcher’s block on the counter and
headed for the stairs.

The green electricity outside crackled again
and she thought she heard her name, but wasn’t sure who was
speaking. When the light flashed, there was a tall shadow in the
room with her, as if an adult were standing at her side. She spun
and swiped through the air, but there was no one in the room with
her other than the whimpering dog in the cage.

Alma went to the stairs and paused,
terrified. Ben was crying out in pain, and Alma knew her father was
killing him. If she didn’t do something, her brother would die. She
started to hum a tune, a trick her mother had taught her to help
stay calm when bad things were happening. She took each step slowly
and listened as Ben continued to cry out in pain.

She heard her father speak, “Hold the towel
over your face, Ben.”

“It hurts!” Ben cried out.

“Get back in the tub, bitch!” Her father hit
something, and Alma heard water splash. Then she heard several wet
thuds while Ben continued to cry, his voice now muffled by what
Alma assumed was a towel.

She held the knife out in front of herself,
ready to kill to save Ben. If her father was hurting him, Alma was
prepared to stop him any way she had to.

Alma walked down the hall and then pushed
the door open. Ben was on the bed with a towel over his face, and
Alma could see her father in the bathroom, hunched over the tub.
Ben was shaking as he held the towel.

“Ben?” asked Alma. “Are you okay?”

Ben dropped the towel and his lip snagged on
the fabric. When the towel fell, a portion of his lower lip went
with it. His face was scarlet red, and his eyebrows were missing.
Blisters had formed on his cheeks and his eyes were wide and
unblinking. His teeth were chattering as if his body couldn’t stand
the agony he was suffering. “Alma,” he said and pointed to the
door. “Get out!”

“Alma?” asked her father from the bathroom.
He got up from the tub and walked back into the room. “What did I
tell you about coming in here?”

Alma looked at him and held the knife out,
still prepared to protect Ben any way she needed to. She saw Terry
rise up from the tub behind her father. The woman’s entire body was
slathered in a putrid mess of blood and thick, syrupy liquid. Terry
screamed in pain and pushed Alma’s father out of the way as she
rushed for the door. Alma’s father tried to grab the nude woman,
but when he gripped her arm a strip of flesh peeled off her. Alma
closed her eyes and held the knife out.

Terry was blinded by the chemicals in the
tub, and ran directly into Alma’s outstretched blade. The force of
Terry’s lunge was enough to knock Alma back as the blade pressed
into the nude woman’s abdomen. Terry fell down on Alma and the
stench of the chemical soup stole the girl’s breath away.

It looked as if Terry’s flesh was melting
off, and when Alma tried to push the woman away her hands just
slipped through the muck. Terry sputtered and finally rolled off
Alma as she clutched the blade in her stomach. Her feet squeaked on
the wood floor as she tried to get away, but Alma’s father was
already over her. He pulled the blade free, which caused Terry’s
body to lurch up before falling back down again.

“Die, you stupid bitch!” Alma’s father
stabbed the woman over and over just within the threshold of the
room. He wouldn’t stop, and soon his fist was plunging into a large
cavity in the woman’s stomach.

When his madness subsided, Alma’s father
stood up, his hands dripping with blood and chunks of flesh, and
panted as he stared down at his daughter. “What did I tell you
about staying out of my room?”

There was a sucking noise from the hall that
sounded as if all the air in the cabin was being pulled away, then
a boom shook the building as electric light flashed all around
them. The fog swept in and enveloped them as shadows ran past. The
creatures in the mist danced and spun, holding each others hands as
they went. The shadows were hunched over and sometimes howled as if
canine. From within the mass of creatures came a tall figure, and
Alma thought she saw the shadow of horns on the top of his head. He
held his hand out to Ben, and Alma heard him whispering. The shadow
then glanced at Alma, but ignored her as he led Ben away.

“I love you, Alma,” said Ben. “I’ll never
stop loving you.”

Paul was there in the fog, and he saw
everything that Alma and Ben had endured. The Skeleton Man had
revealed himself, and was whispering to Paul as the creatures
danced around them.

“I met the Devil, and he ended my pain,”
said The Skeleton Man. “He gave me a chance to save Alma.”

“How?” asked Paul. He couldn’t see Ben, but
could hear the man’s chattering teeth.

“You should know that right now Alma is
dying.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The men that stayed in Widowsfield are
murdering you both. Look at your chest.”

Paul glanced down and saw three bullet
holes, each oozing blood, in his chest. He put his finger in one
and then glanced up at where he thought Ben’s voice emanated from.
“Why?”

“They went up the stairs,” said Ben. “They
opened a door that should’ve stayed shut, and now we’re all paying
the price. You had to be silenced, but they don’t know the truth
about our little town. Widowsfield will never be quiet. It’s still
alive, trapped in a place between Hell and Earth. But we can make
it better, Paul. We can save Alma.”

“How?” asked Paul. “Tell me what I need to
do.”

“The same that I did,” said The Skeleton
Man. “Sacrifice yourself to keep the truth hidden. Alma can’t
handle what she saw. No one could. She’s fragile. She’ll break if
she remembers. You have to let her go.”

“Okay, fine,” said Paul. “I’ll do whatever I
have to.”

“Will you?” asked Ben. “Do you love her as
much as I did?”

“I’ll die for her, if that’s what you’re
asking.”

Ben laughed. “You’re already dead, Paul. I’m
asking for more than that.”

“Then get to the point,” said Paul. “What do
I have to do?”

“You have to let her forget you.” There was
malice in Ben’s voice when he explained the proposition. “Stay here
with me, and let Alma go. She’ll forget you ever lived, and that
she ever loved you. She’ll never know of your sacrifice, and will
never lament your loss. That’s the deal I was given, and I can
offer you the same. Alma will never remember you, but she’ll be
safe.”

“There’s got to be another way,” said
Paul.

“There is,” said Ben. “You’re stuck here
now, and if you want you can try and find a way out of Widowsfield.
No one ever has, but you’re welcome to try. If you refuse my offer,
then you’ll awake in Widowsfield, moments before the event occurred
that opened the doorway. Alma will be with you, but she’ll remember
what happened here when she was a child. All of her memories will
come flooding back, just like they did of me the last time she was
here. She’ll remember what happened in that bedroom when her knife
plunged into the whore’s stomach. I don’t think anyone could be
expected to handle that realization, but it gets worse.”

“What?” asked Paul. The demon seemed to be
enjoying this more than a loving brother should. The Skeleton Man
was a twisted creature, and Paul assumed there were more spirits
than just Ben’s that made up this demon.

“She used the number to remember, just
before she was shot dead in the kitchen. She knows what happened,
and she’ll be forced to remember over and over again. Widowsfield
lives perpetually within only a few minutes of time. The short
window of time that the door was open now plays itself over and
over again, and the tortured souls in the town are forced to live
that moment for eternity. Now Alma will join us, and every time the
moment starts again, she’ll be flooded by the agonizing memory of
what happened here.”

The Skeleton Man materialized in the mist.
He was tall, and his face was a mask of stripped flesh that covered
a skull. He had eyeballs that were placed within a skull’s sockets
and his teeth chattered as he spoke, as if his voice wasn’t emitted
from his mouth, but telepathically.

“Make your choice,” said The Skeleton Man as
he held out his hand to Paul. “Join me, and let Alma forget you. Or
torture her for eternity with the memory of what happened
here.”

Paul was given insight into what The
Skeleton Man knew. There was too much to understand in such a short
moment, but Paul knew that the boy had allowed his final few
minutes to dictate what hell he wrought on the residents of
Widowsfield that were trapped in the mist with him. Ben was a
malevolent force whose pain and suffering in his last moments of
life defined the existence of every soul left trapped in
Widowsfield. He was their Devil, a mere child who learned of hatred
and pain at the very moment that a doorway was unlocked.

“Why are you doing this?” asked Paul. “Why
is this happening?”

“Evil has a home, Paul,” said The Skeleton
Man. “Its name is Widowsfield. Now make your choice.”

* * *

Jacker was driving the van as they left
Widowsfield.

Stephen was in the passenger seat and was
toying with his camera. Rachel, Alma, and Aubrey were in the back,
crunched together on the middle seat. The entire rear seat of the
van was loaded with Stephen’s equipment, which required the girls
to all sit together.

“I can’t wait to get home,” said Rachel.
“I’m going to sleep for, like, twelve hours straight.”