314 Book 3 (Widowsfield Trilogy) (27 page)

Oliver turned to look at the captain and yelled, “Stay here!”

A crack of thunder exploded from the Eldridge, but when Oliver turned to look back at the boat, it was gone. The battleship had vanished, and in its place was just a faint, white smoke.

“What the fuck?” asked the captain as he forced his wide frame out of his seat and gazed at where the ship had been. He made the sign of the cross and kissed his knuckle before staring in wide-eyed fear at Oliver. “What did you insane pricks do? What happened to that boat?”

Oliver shook his head and blinked as if coming out of a daze. He murmured an answer, “I don’t know.”

Something caught Oliver’s attention in the water. He glanced down and saw a flash of green light coming from deep below them. He went to the edge of the boat to investigate and saw that the cord that had formerly been attached to the underside of the Eldridge, and was used to feed electricity to the stopgap mechanism on the
CORD, was still floating where it had been, as if it was still attached to the boat. The thick wire was crackling with the same green lightning that the Eldridge had been, and the light was pushing its way toward the shore.

Oliver looked up at the small building on shore that the cord led to. The green energy flowed into the building, and the cord that it traveled across vanished as soon as it had passed, as if Oliver was watching a bomb’s wick receding. He didn’t know what would happen, and he braced himself as if expecting the shack to explode. It didn’t, and both Oliver and the captain were left staring at the building in wonderment.

Then the water near the shore splashed as the cord that the green energy had followed suddenly reappeared. At the same moment, a groan of steel echoed out over the reservoir and the water around the tugboat was pushed upward. Oliver and the captain struggled to stay standing, and then turned to see that the Eldridge was back where it had been. The only evidence of its disappearance were the waves it created when it had appeared again. Then a thick white smoke began to pour over the edge of the ship. The mist was growing at a shocking rate, and flooded the sky above them like the canopy of a tree or a mushroom cloud. Then the fog pressed forward out over the reservoir and in the direction of Widowsfield.

“What the fuck?” asked the captain as he waddled back into the
cabin. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

“No, wait,” said Oliver. “Take me back to the Eldridge.”

“Hell no,” said the captain with a roar of laughter. “You must be out of your damn mind.”

“I’m serious,” said Oliver as he went to the cabin to argue with the portly man. “Get me over there or…” He paused and then said with emphasis, “Or you’re fired.”

“Go ahead,” said the captain as he turned on the boat. “Fire my ass. I don’t give a shit.”

The fog was coming their way, skirting the surface of the water as it reached out for them.

The tugboat shot forward, knocking Oliver back. He fell to his rear in the back of the boat. He debated going to shore with the captain, but he realized that the man owned the tugboat, and he probably wouldn’t be willing to allow Oliver to drive it back to the Eldridge. There weren’t any other boats on the reservoir except for the Eldridge and the two tugs, which meant Oliver would either have to swim back to the Eldridge or go down to a nearby lake and try to rent a boat that he could haul back here.

After weighing his options, Oliver decided that he needed to get onto the Eldridge as quick as possible. He grabbed the life preserver that the captain had ordered him to get earlier, and then dove off the side of the tugboat.

Hitting the water was more painful than he’d anticipated, and Oliver struggled to breathe as he swam over the waves left by the tug. He grasped the preserver, and then pulled himself onto it so that he could catch him breath. After cursing at the captain of the tug a few more times, he started to swim in the direction of the Eldridge. The fog that had bloomed from the ship sat a foot higher than the water, giving Oliver enough room to swim without touching it. From within the fog he saw the flash of green electricity.

After an exhausting swim, he finally reached the ladder that he’d taken down when he boarded the tugboat. The rope ladder was arduous to ascend, and he took each wrung slowly until he was finally pulling himself onto the deck. By the time he made it to the boat, the fog had moved on. The cloud was headed towards town, leaving the boat behind.

“Hello?” he called out but got no response.

Oliver wiped his face and then tried to shake off some of the water from his clothes, but it didn’t do much good. His shoes squished as he walked, but he ignored the discomfort as he made his way across the deck to the door that he had to go through to get down to where the
CORD was located. As he approached the door, he caught sight of something sticking out of the wall. The shape made no sense to Oliver at first. The steel wall was grey and smooth, with only the occasional rivet marring its surface, but then there was an odd series of lumps sticking out of it that he was certain hadn’t been there before. It looked like cloth.

He reached the odd mass and cautiously reached out to touch it. It was a triangular shape that
stuck out of the wall, and it seemed to be made of a white, cotton fabric. He gripped the top of the triangular expulsion, unsure what he expected to discover, and was horrified when it squished in his hand.

He backed away in surprise
and stared at the lump in disgust. The base of the triangle, where the fabric looked to be fused with the steel wall, became wet with a red liquid. That’s when Oliver realized what he was looking at. This triangular shape protruding from the wall was a man’s elbow, covered in the white sleeve of his shirt. It was exactly as Vess said had happened in 1943, where sailors were fused to the Eldridge itself, as if their skin were a part of its hull. The red liquid gushing from the quivering mass was blood, and it was dripping down the side of the wall as Oliver watched.

Oliver rushed to the door and wound the crank that would open it. He pulled the massive door open and passed through the half-foot wide threshold. To his left, sticking out of the thick
wall, was the head of one of the unfortunate men that had been on the ship when Vess cut the cord. The man seemed to be dead already, but there was no blood dripping down from where his neck was sticking out of the ship. He realized that the reason the man’s elbow outside had started bleeding was because Oliver had ripped the skin away from the hull when he touched it.

Oliver gawked at the bizarre sight. The sailor’s other arm was hanging limply from the wall, as was one of his legs. The rest of his body was lost within the wall itself.

Then a pathetic whine came from deep within the ship, and Oliver realized that someone was in pain nearby. He cautiously slid along the opposite wall from where the dead sailor sprouted, fearful that the man might suddenly wake and give Oliver new fuel for the nightmares this would certainly inspire.  After passing the grotesque sailor, Oliver ran down the hall and to the stairs. The sound of the crying man grew louder as he went. Then, as Oliver turned the last corner that would lead to the door to the CORD’s room, he saw who it was that had been crying.

One of
Vess’s guards was fused to the floor from the waist down. It was clear that he’d been trying to free himself, but his movement had ripped his skin away from the steel, causing him to bleed profusely. The blood pooled at his waist, and he was crying in pain and helplessness when Oliver found him.

“Help me!” The man reached out to Oliver. His pale face was contorted in agony as he held out his arms.

Oliver halted and offered no help. He just stared in horror at the doomed man.

“You have to help me. I don’t know what happened. It hurts. It hurts.” He continued to repeat himself as Oliver stood helplessly before him. The guard was blocking Oliver’s way.

“I can feel my legs,” said the guard. “Does that make any sense? How’s that possible?” He pushed his hands against the floor, raising himself up again and causing his skin to rip further. “It hurts!”

“Stop…” Oliver felt his stomach turn at the sight. “Stop moving.”

“Help me get out!” The guard reached out to Oliver again, but received no aid. “It hurts, but I think we could pull me out. Help me, Goddamn it!”

Oliver shook his head.

The guard groaned in pain and anger as he planted his hands on the floor again. He pushed, and then screamed as more blood gushed out. A flap of pink intestine emerged from under him, and he grabbed it as he said, “How…”

The guard was dazed from pain and blood loss. Oliver wasn’t certain if the man knew what he was holding, or if he pulled on it in confusion, but either way, the man was eviscerating himself. Then the guard coughed, and blood spurted out over his chin.

He looked up at Oliver and said, “It hurts.”

With that, the hulking guard slumped backward as he finally fell unconscious. The force of his body leaning back caused his stomach to rip further, and his intestines spilled out in front of Oliver like a bag of cooked spaghetti that had been slit open. The red blood and pink intestines stretched out as Oliver jumped backward in disgust.

Oliver had no choice but to wade through the gore as he made his way to where Vess and the CORD were at. He stared at the ceiling as he passed the dead guard, and then ran the rest of the way without looking back.

He didn’t know what to expect when he got to
Vess, and he hoped that the CORD’s founding scientist wasn’t partially fused to a wall somewhere. He opened the door that led to the catwalk above the bay, and saw Vess lying on the ground.

“
Vess!”

He ran down the stairs while watching the
CORD as its silver rings spun. The device was still on, but it wasn’t creating electricity anymore.

Oliver was scared that
Vess was partially fused to the floor, so he didn’t grasp the old man as he got on his knees to inspect him. He kept saying the man’s name and asking if he was all right.

Finally,
Vess opened his eyes and tried to speak, but he sputtered and coughed instead.

Oliver watched as
Vess moved, and felt confident that the old man wasn’t stuck to the floor. He leaned over him and started to help Vess sit up, but the injured man grabbed Oliver’s wet shirt, causing water to roll down his shaking arms and drip from his elbows. He coughed again, but was then able to force out his question.

“Did it work?”

Branson

March 13
th
, 2012

Shortly after 5:30
AM

Jim Broadbent whistled as he walked across the lobby of the hotel to the small dining area where guests would soon begin staggering into, looking for the complimentary breakfast that came with their room. He twirled his keys around his finger as he walked, and the beaded bracelet that the black woman whose car had broken down had given him, spun around his wrist. He got to the counter where the breakfast items would be displayed, and knelt to unlock the cabinet below. There were already boxes of cereal in a plastic case on top of the counter, but he pulled out the Styrofoam bowls and plastic silverware that was locked below.

Jim had worked the midnight shift at the hotel for long enough to be used to this routine. Setting up the breakfast buffet wasn’t difficult, but if he didn’t have everything ready by 6:00, there would undoubtedly be an early-riser groaning in frustration. However, Jim knew what the most important part of the process was, and that’s why he always came to the cabinet first: coffee. He took out the plastic jug of coffee grinds and hoisted it to the counter before pulling down the old carafes.

The automatic doors at the entrance hissed open almost perfectly on schedule. Jim only turned as a courtesy, because he knew exactly who had arrived.

Elvis
Jaurez came in with blustered cheeks and his normal wide smile. He didn’t speak much English, but he was generous with his nods and grins. He was the newspaper delivery man, and he had two stacks of bound papers in his arms.

“Morning, Mr. Jim,” said Elvis as he smiled.

“Morning Elvis.”

The short, stocky man waddled over to the wire basket next to the breakfast counter and dropped his load of papers down into it. Then he pulled a box cutter from his jacket’s front pocket and swiftly cut the plastic tie on the top stack. He whipped the plastic out, and then knelt to get the second. After finishing, he nodded to Jim and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Jim.”

“Bye, Elvis.” Jim smiled back at the man and watched him leave. The automatic door hissed closed, and Jim glanced up at the camera above. He looked for the red light that would indicate it was recording and saw that it was off, just as he wanted it to be. Jim had spent the last half-hour erasing the security footage of the previous night, and had made sure to turn off the cameras for the time being.

He left the coffee behind and went over to the front desk. Kyle should’ve come up already to help with setting up breakfast, but if he had it would’ve been the first time in months that he’d done it. Despite having the midnight shift for almost a year longer than Jim, Kyle still hadn’t gotten used to the odd hours. Jim knew that Kyle would be asleep in the break room, so he called the phone that was in the room with him, rudely waking Kyle from his nap.