Itsy Bitsy Spider (Emma Frost #1) (13 page)

The clerk ran
as
fast as he could on the gravel across the courtyard
towards the rectory.
This is bad
,
he thought.
This is really bad
.

He reached the wooden door to the pastor's
residence and knocked. The clerk panted and knocked again.

"Pastor Gotfredsen?" he called.
"You're late."

The clerk had arrived an hour before the funeral
service of Irene Justesen. He knew Pastor Gotfredsen wasn't very fond of the
woman for some reason that went far back in time, but the clerk certainly
hadn't expected him to not show up at all.  Now all the guests, the relatives,
the friends and the entire media was there, ready to listen to the pastor's
words. All that was missing was the pastor himself. He had never been late to
anything, not in the ten years the clerk had been working for him. Of all days
why today when the eyes of the entire country was on them and the casket of the
Queen of Fitness?

He knocked again, this time harder, almost
hammering. "Pastor Gotfredsen?"

But still no answer. He grabbed the handle and
realized the door wasn't locked. He walked inside. "Pastor?"

The sound of his voice bounced off the brick
walls, but no pastor. This couldn't be? If he wasn't in the church, the pastor
was always,
always
in his house.

"Pastor Gotfredsen? Are you alright?"

The clerk suddenly had an eerie feeling and ran
upstairs to where he knew the pastor had his bedroom. He knocked carefully on
the door before opening it. The clerk stopped. He cupped his mouth, but it was
too late. Vomit spurted out all over his hand and floor. The clerk whimpered
and sobbed while looking at the gruesome sight of his pastor on the bed,
smeared in his own blood, his chest cut open.

"Oh dear Lord," the clerk said, then
closed the door again. He stood for a while trying to catch his breath, trying
to calm himself down and not hyperventilate. He felt dizzy, it was like the
entire hallway was spinning around him. He couldn't believe what he had just
seen. Whatever had taken place in there couldn't be human. No human was capable
of such cruelty. Were they? None he knew of. He had heard of evil in the world,
but never ever thought he would encounter anything remotely like this.

The clerk stormed downstairs, crying, sulking,
screaming, then stopped in the kitchen to look for the pastor's phone. He found
it on the table and picked it up, trying to figure out what to say. He had
never had to call for help before.

"Oh God you have to help me here, please
help me."

As he opened the phone, the clerk suddenly heard
a sound. He gasped and looked up. It was like a knocking, and now there were
voices too? Was someone in the house? The clerk gasped. Could it be the killer?
Was the killer still in the house maybe waiting for his next victim?

"Who's there?" he yelled.

He heard a bump, more voices, banging, someone
yelling. What was that? The clerk stepped forward. He glanced at the kitchen
knives on the table and grabbed one in his hand. He held it out in front of him
as he walked closer.

"Identify yourself, please," he said.

Another sound. Someone hammering on something,
like a door, muffled yelling. What was that? What could it be? Had he walked
into some sort of trap? Was an entire flock of killers in here waiting for him
to come close enough, and then jump him? If so where were they? Who were they?
The clerk gulped and backed up slightly. There it was again. There was that
sound once again. It didn't sound like a killer or anyone who wanted to harm
him, it sounded more like ... more like ... like people? People yelling? People
trying to attract his attention.

The clerk looked down and noticed a hatch
underneath him. One of those built into houses during the war to keep people
safe during attacks. Most houses on the island had them. Small shelters or
bunkers under their houses either inside or in their yard.

"Hello?" he said and lifted up the
hatch.

Hundreds of eyes greeted him, crying faces, torn
faces, men, women, children. The clerk gasped and opened the hatch entirely to
help them out.

Then he started to cry.

Victor felt
better a
few days later and went back to school. The
blisters weren't all gone but the infection was and so was the fever. So I sent
him off to school on the following Friday hoping I could get some work done
before the weekend.

As I drove back from dropping him off, I spotted
Jack in his yard. I parked my car in front of my house, then walked across the
street. I waved as I came closer. He smiled shy and approached me on the other
side of the Beech hedge.

"Hi there," I said.

"Hhhhi ..."

I could tell he was fighting to speak and
wondered for a second if I should just leave. That was when I spotted the most
beautiful painting leaned against the wall of his house. "Wow," I
exclaimed. "That's a wonderful painting. Who did that?"

I looked at his hands and clothes and felt
stupid. All was smeared in painting. He smiled.

"You did that?"

He shrugged and nodded.

"Can I ...?" I asked and signaled if
it was okay I entered his yard.

"Ssssure," he said.

I approached the painting. It was huge. Tall and
wide. The colors were breathtaking. It felt like it was drawing me in, even if
I didn't care much for the motive. A giant spider sitting in its web. There was
still something alluring about it, I couldn't stop looking at it.

"This is very impressive. Did you really
paint this?"

He nodded again while wiping his hands.

"Do you have more like this?"

"Inside," he said, sounding more
confident.

I walked in. It took my breath away. Hundreds of
stunning paintings just like the one outside, one more beautiful than the other
met me. I laughed. "You're kidding me! I love these. They are
gorgeous."

Jack smiled shy. "Ttth ...hank you,"
he said.

I couldn't help myself. I ran around in his
house like a small child finding Christmas presents that I wasn't supposed to
see just yet. It was splendid.

"Wow, Jack. You're just full of surprises
aren't you?"

Jack had a smirk on his face. "I try to be.
Cccan I give you sssomething to dddrink?"

"What are you having?"

"Elderflower cordial," he said.

"Hm," I said.

"What?"

"You didn't stutter. Just before when you
said elderflower cordial. You didn't stutter at all."

Jack blushed. "Iiii ... I only stutter when
I am nnnervous. Or when there are many people."

I chuckled. I liked the idea that I made him
nervous. It was flattering. I smiled, a little shy. Jack went to the kitchen
and brought me back a glass of elderflower cordial. "It's hhhome
made," he said as he handed it to me.

"You
are
full of surprises, Jack," I said and tasted it. "This is good. You
make it yourself. Or are you just trying to impress me?"

"A little of both I guess," he said.
"Ssso how do you like it here on our street so far?"

I shrugged and stared at a painting. "Not
too bad. No it's actually quite refreshing to get away from the city. How long
have you lived here?"

Jack sighed and drank. "My entire
life," he said as he put the glass down.

"The woman in the wheelchair, is that your
wife?" I asked. "I hope you don't mind me asking."

"No, iiit's okay. She's my sister."

"What happened to her?"

Jack looked at me, then looked away. He became
very serious all of a sudden. "Long story."

I found a chair and sat down. "I have time,"
I said. I knew I was being pushy and risked driving him away, but if I didn't
ask I would never get the answers I needed.

"You sure you want to hear it?" he
asked and sat in another chair next to me.

I nodded and drank.

"Wwwell you better know the story ssso
you'll know to stay away from the right people," he said. "Ttthe
thing is my sister and I grew up here on the South side of the town. My parents
were a part of this church ..."

"Home Mission?"

Jack looked at me. "How'd you knnnow?"

"Took a wild guess."

"My parents both died in a car crash. It
hhhhappened in the mainland. They had been visiting some friends."

I almost choked in my drink. "I'm so sorry.
That's horrible, Jack. How old were you?"

"Iiii ... was twelve and my sister
nnnineteen."

"Poor you."

"My sister was old enough to take care of
me, so she did. Sssshe became my legal guardian and we stayed in the house and
tried to live a normal life, you know continue our lives. But the church people
wouldn't leave us alone. They wanted to control us, you see. My sister didn't
want them to. They kept interfering with our lives and trying to make decisions
about me, how I was supposed to dress and what school I should go to and so on.
But my sister was strong. She wouldn't let them. Finally she got so upset with
them, she broke out of the church. She left and told them we were out."

"What did they do?"

"At first nothing. What could they do? But
after a while they began coming to our house, telling us we were sinning
against God and all that nonsense. It drove my sister crazy. In the end she was
so sick of them, she contacted the police and got a restraining order on them.
One of them had grabbed her arm and made a mark and that was enough for the
judge to give her it. Finally we were left alone. Then one day I was home
alone, my sister was at a friend's house, but she never came home. The next day
the police came to my door and told me she had been in an accident. A hit and
run, they said. She had been walking by the side of the road when a car hit her.
Has been paralyzed ever since. Can't even eat on her own. By that time I had
turned eighteen and could take care of her. So I have done that ever
since."

I looked at Jack. I saw such a vulnerability in
his eyes. I exhaled thinking of what to say to a story like that.
"Wow." It was all I could come up with. "So you think the church
people might have been behind it?"

Jack threw his glass against the wall and it was
scattered all over the floor underneath. I jumped, frightened.

"I know it was them. Don't you think I know
that? You don't leave Home Mission. You just can't leave."

I wanted to speak but held myself back. Jack was
in a very emotional state right now. Too upset to think about what he said. I
didn't want him to say something he would later regret.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

He looked at me with angry eyes and nostrils
flaring. He didn't answer, but I continued anyway.

"Irene Justesen. Did you know her?"

"Sure did."

"She broke out of the church too, didn't
she? Many years ago."

He nodded. "It was right after her daughter
disappeared."

"But they never hurt her for leaving?"

Jack seemed to be calming down now. He shook his
head. "No, they didn't. Well my guess is they owed her."

"Owed her? Why? For what?"

"I don't know any of this for sure, since I
was a child when all this went down, but after what I have heard I think they
were behind the disappearance of her daughter. I think that's why she left the
church. But I also think she had something to do with it. I think they all had,
but Irene couldn't stand it afterwards. Couldn't look at them anymore. Between
you and me I think they paid her a lot of money to get rid of the
daughter."

"Why would they want to get rid of her
daughter?"

Jack scoffed. "Because she was pregnant.
She was sixteen and pregnant. That's not good out here."

"What do you think they did to her?"

He shrugged. "Maybe took her somewhere to
remove the baby. Maybe they killed her. Who knows? All I know is she never
returned."

I finished my glass while a million thoughts ran
through my mind. "Who was the father?"

Jack exhaled deeply while running a hand through
his hair. He wasn't wearing his beanie today and I quite enjoyed watching his
thick brown hair. He looked great without the beanie on.

"I don't know. But my guess is it was one of
the boys from the church back then."