The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 5

  Carmen lingered, watching her dad take the call. Like everyone else in the town this morning, he just didn't seem quite right. She had to admit that she felt a bit off herself, and she had remembered how everyone reacted when David went missing three years ago, but this was different.

  The front doors of the station opened again and the crowd pushed their way back in. "Hey!" Don shouted as all the officers mobilized to get them out.

  Robert looked up at the open doorway to the hall. "I gotta go," he announced into the phone, then he dropped it and bolted to his feet. He rushed into the hallway, holding up his hands and shouting.

  Carmen glanced around for her brother and realized he was gone. She peeked out into the lobby, but there was no one aside from the crowd and the officers. "Tommy!" she shouted, looking down the other end of the hall. The corridor stretched past rows of offices and rounded a corner to the jail cells in the back. There were only about a dozen of them in total—a small jail—but they were usually enough for such a small town. Still, she feared the idea of her brother back there by himself and thought that he must have slipped out the front door and was waiting for her outside.

  But when she rounded the corner and saw her brother standing not only in front of the jail cells, but standing right up to the bars of the farthest one, wrapping his hands around them and pressing his face between them, her heart jumped in her chest.

  "Tommy!" she said sharply. "Get away from there!"

  He turned his head to her. "But I'm just talking to my friend."

  Carmen rushed to him, passing one or two people locked up and lying on their cots. She wrenched Tommy away from the bars and squeezed his shoulders, staring fiercely into his eyes. "Just what do you think you're doing!"

  Tommy looked upset, opening his mouth and trying to find an answer. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong. The man seemed nice enough, after all.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the man inside the jail cell said.

  She turned and looked in it.

  "I was just talking to your brother about the witch."

  "Witch? What witch?"

  "It's her, I'm telling you!" he said, agitation filling his voice. "She took Jeremy."

  "That was you..." Carmen said. "In the town square last night."

  He leaned against the cement wall behind his cot. "That's why they locked me up. The chief said I was causing a panic and making the townspeople scared. But I don't care! I have to warn them! The only problem is they don't want to listen."

  The man was thin and shabbily dressed. His short hair was a mess, and his face had an unhealthy thinness to it. Still, the way he spoke suggested that he was sensible enough.

  "Come on," Carmen said to her little brother, ushering him away from the cell.

  "She might take your brother next," the man called from behind them.

  Anger boiled in the pit of Carmen's stomach. She marched back to the cell, grabbing the bars herself this time. She pointed a finger at the man. "Hey, you listen to me, buddy! Don't ever say that in front of my brother again, you hear me?"

  "I didn't mean to offend," he said softly. "But another child is going to go missing at any moment. And then another one after that."

  The man got under her skin. She shouldn't have been so fascinated about what he was saying, but she was. "How do you know all this? You're talking about the woman who lived on the hill, right? The one that got burned? Well, she's dead."

  The man shook his head vigorously, and the certainty in his face frightened her. "No," he said, "far from it."

  Carmen tried to say something else, but she choked on her words.

  "The gingerbread cookie. The pumpkins. The shoe. It's recreating itself. Everyone has to protect themselves—protect their children—before it's too late."

  Tommy stared at the man in fascination.

  "But..." Carmen started. "But she didn't take that kid three years ago. She was innocent; he just got lost. I know all the kids around here thought she was a witch, but there's no such thing as an actual witch. And most importantly... she's dead."

  "Just promise me one thing," he said.

  "What?" Carmen asked.

  "When they locked me up last night, they took all my things. They'll let me out in a few hours, probably, but there's one thing they took that you could probably use more than I can right now. Do you know where they keep the items they take from people?"

  "Yeah," Carmen said. "What's in there?"

  "There's something that looks like a necklace. But it's a lot more than that. The cord has a smooth rose-colored stone hanging from it. Put it on your brother and make him wear it at all times."

  "What's going on here?" Carmen asked, exasperated.

  He leaned forward. "The witch is back. She didn't take that boy three years ago, but the townspeople thought she did, and it cost her her life. Now she's getting her revenge. And she won't stop until all the children are hers, including Tommy."

  Inferno

  "How did he know your name?" Carmen demanded.

  "I told him," Tommy said. "His name's Peter. He says he's lived here all his life."

  "You shouldn't be talking to strangers like that, especially ones in jail." She was angry with him, but she couldn't help but be fascinated by the man. She turned the necklace over in her hands, letting the rose-colored stone glint off the sunlight as they walked home.

  "He wasn't going to hurt anyone," Tommy argued. "Besides, he wants to protect us from the witch."

  Carmen scoffed. "What the heck is this thing, anyway?"

  Tommy looked at it. "Maybe it's like an amoolut."

  "You mean an amulet?"

  "Yeah. Maybe you can cast spells with it or something cool."

  "Not likely," Carmen said, stuffing it in her pocket.

  They arrived back at their house just before noon, and Carmen stuffed the necklace in a drawer in her bedroom, knowing it was nothing but junk. He's probably crazy, she said to herself. Thinking there's a witch trying to get everyone. Absurd. She shrugged and wandered around the house, trying to figure out what to do. She looked at the assignment sitting on the kitchen counter that she and Breanna had put so much time into and sighed. She hadn't expected to stay home today, and now she didn't know what to do with herself.

  Tommy wandered off to his room and played with his action figures. No one could ever catch him being bored, as he could find adventures in the simplest things.

  After making three rounds through the house, absentmindedly checking her phone here and there, Carmen finally plunked on the couch and turned on the TV. There was still no word on Jeremy, but she knew her father would be giving a statement at noon on the local news. She flipped to the news channel and saw a reporter standing in the town square.

  The same female from the night before was standing in front of the camera holding her microphone, and in the background behind her, two men were clearing the last of the jack-o'-lanterns that had been mysteriously placed there in the night.

  Carmen leaned forward and squinted her eyes.

  "Just now, as the city is clearing the last of this bizarre scene," the reporter said to the camera, "a strange symbol has been discovered underneath the pile." The camera zoomed over her shoulder, focusing on something painted across the bricks of the town square, maybe twelve or fifteen feet wide. "This mysterious symbol was discovered after the jack-o'-lanterns had started to be removed, and it's unclear who put it here or what it represents, but as you can see it appears to most closely resemble a broadcast tower. What it means is a mystery to everyone, but it's safe to say that whoever put it here, also placed the jack-o'-lanterns. The city has tried to power wash the symbol off the bricks, but so far it isn't coming off yet, leading police to investigate what material it's made of and where it could have come from."

  "What's that?" Tommy asked.

  Carmen was startled, not knowing her brother had snuck up on her. She looked over her shoulder. "It's from those pumpkins last night. Just like that carving
they found on the tree..." She had no idea what it all meant.

  Tommy made a quiet, amused sound, like he found all of this fascinating, then he walked around the couch and joined his sister.

  In a few minutes, the camera feed cut over to outside the front of the police station, and their father was standing at a podium with a few microphones pointed up at his mouth. His deputy, Don, was standing next to him, and a couple other officers could be seen in the shot. Camera flashes washed over him as he looked at the gathering just off camera and made his announcement.

  "Good afternoon, everyone," he said. "I'm making a quick statement here to update you on everything that's going on with the disappearance of Jeremy Darton. As of this moment, we still haven't found him and we don't have any leads as to his whereabouts. I would like to remind all of you to stay calm in this time as we continue to search for him; as we all know very well, panic will do us no good." His face fell in a somber expression as he stared down at the podium and composed his thoughts. "Halloween is two days away, and I would like to remind everyone that despite Jeremy's disappearance, it is perfectly safe to take your kids out trick-or-treating, and the police department encourages it."

  Tommy straightened up on the couch, his eyes turning plate-sized in excitement.

  But Carmen scrunched her eyebrows in suspicion.

  "So for now," Robert continued, "it is our advice that everyone should go about their normal business. The police are still patrolling this town and will keep its citizens safe. Everything is under control, and we're sure that Jeremy will be found soon. Thank you."

  Reporters off-camera shouted a litany of questions, but all of it was just white noise to Carmen. She couldn't believe her father said that in light of what was happening; she certainly remembered three years ago when she tried to take her brother trick-or-treating and he'd come home with no more than half a dozen pieces of candy in his bag. And now another child was missing, and it was business as usual? It didn't make any sense.

  "All right!" Tommy exclaimed. "I get to go trick-or-treating!" He kneeled on the couch and turned to his sister, shaking her shoulder. "Can we go get a costume? Can we go get a costume?!"

  She ignored her brother. There was something off about their father in his statement... not just what he said, but the way he spoke. That same heaviness that seemed to weigh on him in the station earlier was still there. But she couldn't put her finger on it, and she couldn't come up with a better word than simply... strange.

  The hallways were dark and the school was empty, except for one person.

  The janitor walked through a hallway on the ground floor. His footsteps clapped on the cement and echoed across the bare walls. He moved from classroom to classroom, mopping the floors. Darkness had fallen outside, and he only kept the lights on he needed as he moved through the school, turning them on and off as he came and went. Short strips of illumination filled whatever section he was currently in, leaving the rest of the school blacked out.

  The school was silent. Even as he walked by the windows in each classroom to clean, it seemed like the breeze outside was inaudible; no car horns or engines revving could be heard in the distance; there were no children playing outside or people walking around. It was like he was the last man on Earth.

  He finished mopping the floor of the principal's office and stepped out into the hallway, dropping the mop in the bucket and wiping a thin layer of sweat off his forehead.

  A faint clicking sound came from somewhere in the darkness.

  The janitor stopped and looked around. "Hello?" he called out. He strained his ears and listened.

  Silence.

  He shrugged and pulled the mop and bucket along the floor. The wheels were old and squeaky, and a high-pitched whine echoed through the school as he walked. He passed a door then stopped, hearing that same clicking noise over the whine of the wheels.

  He turned around and stared into the dark.

  "What is that?" he muttered under his breath.

  He left the bucket and took a few steps forward, stopping in front of the door that he just passed. It was the one that led down to the basement. He leaned and pressed his ear to it. The clicking was louder.

  He opened the door and its hinges groaned. It was so silent in the school that he could hear a pin drop from any part of it. He flicked on the light switch next to him to illuminate the stairwell, but the light bulb didn't come on. He looked up and grumbled under his breath. He patted his pockets, but realized that he didn't have his flashlight on him. It was in the basement.

  The clicking sound continued, drifting up from somewhere down below.

  He gripped the railing tightly and started down the stairs, his heart beating faster than it should have. He moved slowly, his old bones doing him no favors. When he rounded the corner halfway down the stairs, he took his time with the rest of them, and when he made it to the bottom he used his hands to feel out the walls in the dark.

  It was pitch-black, and he couldn't see a thing. He knew the flashlight was down here, but he couldn't remember where. His fingers glided along the cold wall and found the light switch. He flicked it on. The bulb didn't light up. His heart lurched.

  The absolute silence of the school upstairs carried on down here, save for the mysterious clicking somewhere ahead of him. He could hear his own breathing getting heavier, and then as he cleared a wall in front of him, he saw a dim orange glow coming from the right. It was from the fire burning in the furnace.

  The clicking came from the same direction. He carefully rounded the corner into the little room that housed the furnace and some other piping, and he stood before it as the orange glow outlined the hatch in the front of it.

  The clicking slowed down, but increased in volume. Now it sounded like someone was hammering on the furnace door from the inside.

  "What the hell?" he muttered. He stepped forward slowly, and he couldn't understand why, but his heart was thumping madly in his chest now. If there was something wrong with the furnace, he would fix it, and the situation didn't account for his childlike fear that he was experiencing. The light danced in the darkness, and his eyes were wide, like he expected the furnace to gobble him up at any moment. He pictured the door creaking open, giving way to the inviting flame. Hands of fire would stretch out and seductively wrap themselves around him, pulling him into the blaze. Sweat dripped down his forehead now as he walked, mesmerized by the orange light.

  Click. Click. Click!

  He stood right in front of the furnace. It exploded.

  The door was ripped off with incredible force, and it clipped him in the shoulder, tearing a huge gash out of it. A wave of flame rushed out and engulfed him.

  The janitor stumbled back into the other section of the basement, completely covered in flames. He screamed and waved his hands in the air like a madman. He slammed into a wall in front of him, but he couldn't feel it behind the excruciating pain. His screams filled the entire school, but no one was there to hear them.

  His towering inferno of a figure stumbled through the darkness like a demon from Hell until his screams were choked out of him and he fell to his knees, finally collapsing on the floor, dead.

  Some small pockets of fire danced on the walls of the small furnace room, and they quickly shrank and were snuffed out. And left behind, in a black scorch on the wall, was another symbol, this one resembling a heart dripping blood with a dagger plunged through it.

  A Tasty Gift

  After a long evening at work, Robert had enough time to go home and have dinner with his children before he had to go back to the station. He put his deputy and all of his officers on overtime, and they were all working around the clock to not only find the missing boy, but to quell the rising tide of panic that had swept through the town from his disappearance.

  The three of them ate dinner in relative silence. Both Carmen and Tommy could tell that their father wasn't his normal self, even compared to when he had been overworked in the past. He seemed distant; detached.
>
  "So... I can go trick-or-treating?" Tommy asked.

  Robert looked up from his meal at his son. His jaw chewed slowly, and he didn't say anything. He looked back down and continued eating.

  Carmen reached under the table and grabbed her brother's hand, giving it a soft squeeze. She knew he was too young to understand what was going on with their father. She barely knew herself, but this kind of sudden change in him was frightening for a nine-year-old.

  "You... you said everyone could go trick-or-treating, right?" Tommy asked timidly. He began to second-guess himself, like he hadn't heard his father's statement correctly on the news.

  "No," Robert said at last. "You're not going anywhere."

  "But—"

  Robert slammed his fist down on the table, causing the plates to jump and rattle. Carmen and Tommy jumped in their seats. Robert squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to them, trying to alleviate the pressure behind them. Mostly hidden behind his hand, Carmen could see his lips peel open and his teeth grating against each other.

  She reached out and softly placed a hand on his. "Dad?"

  The tension seemed to wash out of him and he looked up at her. "What is it, Sweetpea?" he asked. The bizarre strain and heaviness in his eyes a moment ago seemed to be gone, and now there was a softness in them.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine." He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, then he shoveled another bite of pork into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed it, then he looked at Tommy. "Of course you can go trick-or-treating, Kiddo."

  Tommy slowly leaned back in his seat, like he was growing suspicious of his father like Carmen had. "What? Are you sure?"

  "Of course," Robert said. "We've got the city well protected. No one else is going to disappear on our watch." He gave a smile to his kids, but it was counterfeit. He set down his fork and rubbed the back of his neck again more vigorously.