Echoes (Whisper Trilogy Book 2) (32 page)

“I just finished speaking to your doctors,” Dane went on as Henry desperately tried to fight his medication. “They say you’ve had a severe breakdown. Worst case of schizophrenia they’ve ever seen. I asked if they thought you would ever recover, they said it doesn’t look good. Seems like you fried a few circuits up there,” Dane said, tapping his temple and allowing a faint smile to form.

Henry continued trying to form some coherent sentences, knowing the longer he sat there like a vacant, drooling idiot, the worse it would look.

“You know what’s funny, Henry?” Dane went on, seeming to enjoy his brother’s struggles. “This is the place where Donovan was sent when he was growing up. Ironic don’t you think?”

Dane waited for a response. His brother stared on with glassy eyes, a strand of drool now hanging from chin to chest.

“The show got canceled by the way. No surprise really. I tried to get into some other presenting gigs, but what happened up there at the hotel killed my reputation. You know how the TV business is, once the rep goes, the career goes with it. Ironic really. The producers pulled the plug the second I become a believer. You couldn’t make it up.”

Henrys response was to roll his eyes as the strand of drool on his chin broke, a new one immediately forming.

“Anyway, I’ll get to the point of why I’m here,” Dane said, the smile finally breaking into a grin.

“The courts have decided you’re no longer of sound mind. That means you can’t look after your affairs or finances. I’ve been given complete control of your money and your assets. It seems you had more set aside than you ever told us.”

Henry screwed up his features, frustrated and angry at his inability to respond.

“The family and I have discussed it. We’ve decided to cut you off. The money you set aside will help us to get over this mess. It’s not like you’ll need it anyway. Chances are you’ll be here ‘til you die anyway. After what you did, I think this is the safest place for you to be.”

The fog cleared for a few seconds, and Henry was able to slur a few words. “They won’t rest… hotel… won’t ever stop…” he managed before his thoughts were once again lost in the swirling soup in his head.

“Don’t worry about the hotel. The deeds to your half of the land have been transferred to me, not that they’re worth the paper they’re written on with Bruce in a coma he might never wake up from. You really did a number on him, Henry. He’s a fucking vegetable now, kept alive by machines. Ahh, hell it doesn’t matter anyway. Nobody will go anywhere near the place. Even the ghost-hunters have moved on. It’s not the town where the ghosts are anymore, Henry, it’s now known as the murder town. With all the settlements to grieving families the town had to cover, they’ll be lucky to see another year. You really screwed things up.”

Dane stood, Henry’s half-lidded glassy eyes following him.

“Anyway, I thought you ought to know straight from me what the situation is. I don’t expect I’ll visit again. The family and I have decided it’s best to disown you. Nothing personal you understand, just in light of what happened it’s for the best. The press are still having a field day with this, and it’s our names getting dragged through the dirt whilst you sit here and drool all over yourself. I hope you find a way to come to terms with what you did to those people, Henry. I hope you find forgiveness, just don’t look for it from me or the family.”

“thmth nthrr shth, theth tohthd mth…”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea what you’re saying to me, and frankly I don’t care. Goodbye.”

Dane knocked on the door and waited to be released from the room whilst Henry continued to drool, growing increasingly agitated. He stood and banged on the glass, startling Dane as he spat his way around his mumbled words. Orderlies immediately entered the room, restraining Henry and injecting him with a powerful sedative. He stared at Dane as his world started to fade to black, the words he was so desperate to say so clear in his head yet impossible to articulate.

They’ll never stop. Not until the boy is dead.

The light faded, followed swiftly by sound and feeling. Those words stayed though. Those words were key. They’d whispered it to him at the end, right before he was separated from Donovan. Their secret, the reason they wanted Isaac dead.

He was the key. He’s the one who can end it all.

The words echoed around Henry’s mind as he lost his battle to stay conscious.

EPILOGUE

8 months later.

“It’s beautiful, Mel. It looks really nice,” Rebecca said as she stood beside her sister.

Melody didn’t respond, hiding behind her oversized sunglasses. A light summer breeze pushed through the flowers in her hand. She crouched and leaned them against the headstone.

“Would you mind giving me a few minutes, Becca?” she said.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll go round up that nephew of mine.”

Melody folded her dress under her and sat in front of the gravestone, staring at the words etched into its face.

STEVEN ALLEN SAMSON

FATHER, HUSBAND, SAVIOUR

AUGUST 12th 1976 – NOVEMBER 14th 2013

“I’m glad you have a stone now. I didn’t know they would take so long to arrive.” she said in a quiet voice.

In the distance, she heard Isaac playing with Rebecca.

“You saved me twice. It was more than I ever deserved.”

She waited, half-hoping to hear a response, crushed by the silence which greeted her.

“I decided to give up the apartment. I know you liked it there, but there were just too many memories.”

She took off her glasses, squinting against the sun.

“I hope you understand. Becca said I could move in with her and I think I need her support right now. We’re trying to get on with things. I won’t deny it’s hard without you there. I know you’re watching us, and it brings me comfort. It’s not the same though. I miss the feel of you near me.” Her voice wavered, so she took a deep breath and dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue.

“Isaac isn’t coping so well either. He’s having nightmares. Rebecca thinks he needs some sort of counseling. Can you believe it? Counseling at eight years old.”

She stared at the stone, again waiting for the reply she knew would never come.

“Anyway,” she said, slipping her sunglasses back on. “I’d better be making a move. I promised Isaac ice cream and if I leave it much longer I’ll never hear the end of it. He’s stubborn like you.”

She stood and brushed the grass from her dress.

“I’ll come and see you again soon. Sleep well.”

She kissed the marble headstone and let her hand linger on it for a moment, then went back to Isaac, who as predicted, was asking about the earlier promised ice cream. As they walked away, Melody took one last look over her shoulder at the headstone, wondering what the future held for her and Isaac, and how they would cope with it alone. The wind rocked the trees, yet she barely noticed, keeping her head low as she walked on with Rebecca. Isaac lingered behind, dragging a stick through the dirt. The trees rocked again and he paused, looking up at them and cocking his head to one side, mouth slightly ajar.

He waited.

He listened.

“Isaac, come on, if you want ice cream you’d better hurry up,” Rebecca shouted.

“Coming,” he replied, dropping the stick and running to catch up.

Melody held his hand as they walked. The trees moved again, and Isaac looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. He nodded, a barely perceptible movement of the head, and then turned back around, trying to decide what flavor ice cream he wanted to get.

TO BE CONCLUDED…

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Bray is a Horror author based in Leeds, England. Influenced from an early age by the suspense horror of authors such as Stephen King, and the trashy pulp TV shows like
Tales From The Crypt
&
The Twilight Zone
, he started to work on his own fiction, and spent many years developing his style.

In May 2012, he signed a deal with the highly reputable Dark Hall Press to print and distribute his collection of interlinked short stories titled
Dark Corners
, which was released in September 2012. His second release was a Novella titled
MEAT
which was initially self-published before being picked up by J. Ellington Ashton Press. His first full length novel, a supernatural horror titled Whisper was also initially self-published, and following great critical acclaim, was sold to Horrific Tales publishing - his first advance paying sale.

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