<\/p>\n
Downstream<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n Laurie was slow moving, leaning on Lon and trying to keep her head up, but all three had to stop several times as she doubled over in pain.\u00a0 It was just dry heaves now, but they stopped her dead in her tracks.<\/p>\n They\u2019d cleared the ruins of Black Hill and were descending through the thick undergrowth to the train station, the remnants of a gravel road peeking through the loam of the forest floor beneath their feet.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with her?\u201d Lon whispered to Walt as they both watched Laurie press her head to the ground, gagging.<\/p>\n \u201cThe Witch.\u201d Walt muttered.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to tell me what the fuck is going on here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve been researching the Witch for many years.\u00a0 I must admit, I didn\u2019t expect to find anything.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew this shit would happen?\u201d<\/p>\n Walt shook his head, \u201cNo, no.\u00a0 Of course not.\u00a0 I was never much of a believer in any of this stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you knew the stories\u2026if there was even a chance \u2013 \u201c<\/p>\n \u201cYou knew the stories, too, Lon.\u00a0 We just hiked our asses into a wilderness hunting for a murder house that had scores of corpses stacked in it. This wasn\u2019t ever an innocent picnic.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow do we stop her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe cross the river.\u00a0 Or we find her bones.\u00a0 Or we find Amanda Atherton\u2019s bones.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd how do you know all that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA combination of guesswork and research into how this stuff works.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSee, that\u2019s what I mean.\u00a0 You\u2019re prepared for this shit.\u00a0 You came in here looking to\u2026whatever.\u00a0 Exorcize or something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf I were prepared, we\u2019d be a bit better off right now.\u00a0 And I\u2019m not trained to exorcise demons.\u00a0 I\u2019m afraid a PhD in oral history doesn\u2019t prep you for such things.\u201d Walt nodded to Laurie, \u201cDrag or carry her.\u00a0 We\u2019ve got to move. No more stops.\u201d<\/p>\n The sun was vanishing behind the mountains when they hit the train tracks, and dusk gathered around them as they continued down the mountain to their boat.\u00a0 The burbling of Blackhill Creek seemed to mock them until they burst out of a line of trees and stumbled across the small rock beach to their boat.<\/p>\n Walt was first, racing for the boat as an unnatural night settled quickly around them.\u00a0 He turned, and found himself alone.\u00a0 The forest sighed, the treetops bowing in an unfelt wind. Walt closed his eyes and cursed to himself.\u00a0 When he opened them again, the Witch was standing at the treeline.\u00a0 An old woman in period outfit, her hair pulled back severely into a bun, both hands leaning on a cane.\u00a0 She tucked her chin down towards her breast and gazed up at him with a thin smile playing across her pale skin.<\/p>\n \u201cMaureen Kane.\u201d Walt said slowly.<\/p>\n The Witch\u2019s left eye twitched, and she raised her head defiantly.<\/p>\n \u201cYou were young when they killed you, no?\u201d<\/p>\n The Witch closed her eyes and raised her arms, letting the cane drop.\u00a0 For a few heartbeats, she was surrounded by a faint shimmering that seemed almost like a reflection.\u00a0 Walt was reminded of headlights on a dark motel room ceiling.\u00a0 Then, where the old woman had been, a tiny, fragile brunette now stood.\u00a0 Her eyes glittered above a wide smile, her dark hair fell past her shoulders.<\/p>\n \u201cThis\u2026what I was.\u201d<\/p>\n Walt nodded, backing away.\u00a0 \u201cYou have my friends?\u201d<\/p>\n The Witch nodded.<\/p>\n \u201cGive them back?\u201d<\/p>\n The Witch shook her head.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t you want freedom?\u201d\u00a0 The back of Walt\u2019s legs touched the bow of the canoe and he stopped.<\/p>\n The Witch tilted her head to the right, watching him.<\/p>\n \u201cI can free you.\u00a0 It\u2019s your bones, right?\u00a0 Where are they?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo\u2026freedom.\u201d The Witch struggled with the words.<\/p>\n \u201cThere is.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStill\u2026Atherton.\u201d<\/p>\n Walt grinned.\u00a0 \u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2026know\u2026where.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTell!\u201d<\/p>\n Walt pushed backwards against the canoe, shoving it awkwardly into the water. \u201cUh-uh.\u201d<\/p>\n The Witch moved towards him, hovering just above the rocks, and he turned to dive into the canoe.\u00a0 She caught him in an instant, her hands slamming into his back and sending him rolling into the boat as it lurched into the current.\u00a0 He gazed up at the spiraling sky, his eyes fluttering, as the Witch screamed in frustration.\u00a0 Stopped by the water.\u00a0 Excellent.\u00a0 He let the darkness take him, pain burning through his back and neck.<\/p>\n When next he woke, it was sometime in the early AM.\u00a0 The moon had begun her descent, and the calm night had a fresh crispness in the air.\u00a0 Walt was huddled in the bow of the canoe and he heaved himself up to look around.\u00a0 The little boat was hung up on a rocky sandbar in the middle of the narrow river.\u00a0 He wasn\u2019t sure how far he had drifted, and couldn\u2019t make a guess against the thick forest on both banks.<\/p>\n A sound made him turn and he nearly leapt out of the boat when he saw a woman sitting on one of the bench seats.<\/p>\n She waved, smiling apologetically.<\/p>\n She was young, though nothing like the weird, cold beauty of the Witch.\u00a0 This woman had sandy chestnut hair, and wore an outfit that made her look like a reject from a silent film version of King Solomon\u2019s Mines.<\/p>\n Walt rubbed the back of his head, watching her, and finally gave up on the silent treatment after a couple of minutes.\u00a0 \u201cAmanda Atherton, I presume?\u201d<\/p>\n She lit up, as if an impossible problem had just become clear to her.\u00a0 \u201cYes!\u00a0 Yes, that\u2019s it.\u00a0 My name. Amanda.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda shrugged. \u201cWe\u2019re all here.\u00a0 All of us who can see her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe murders.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t hurt us if we can see her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe just did a number on me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou made her mad.\u00a0 She could have killed you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy friends\u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda nodded sadly.<\/p>\n \u201cThat means more will come.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe wants more to come.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to get out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda shook her head.\u00a0 \u201cOnce you see her, you stay.\u00a0 Forever.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShelby Marks escaped.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe tunnel.\u00a0 The train.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I have neither.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you have neither.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have a boat.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBoth sides lead to the same place. I tried.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can free her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAn Atherton survives.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy\u2026daughter?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe died.\u00a0 Cancer.\u00a0 In the 90\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA grandchild?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u00a0 Born in 1965. Alexander.\u201d<\/p>\n She said the name, rolling it around in her mouth as if it was a foreign phrase.\u00a0 \u201cHealthy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, fine.\u00a0 He remade the Atherton fortune.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe sent you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIn a way.\u00a0 He knows I\u2019m here.\u00a0 He\u2019d like to find your remains.\u201d<\/p>\n She looked at the woods with hooded eyes, \u201cI am everywhere now.\u00a0 My remains are long scattered.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere is Maureen Kane?\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda turned a hard stare onto Walt, then leaned forward and whispered, \u201cHome.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh.\u00a0 The house. Of course.\u00a0 That\u2019s why she brought all the bodies there.\u00a0 That\u2019s why she led you all there, yes?\u00a0 You, Shelby marks\u2026 How many others?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA few.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere in the house?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe won\u2019t let you find her remains.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe wants to be free.\u00a0 It\u2019s what all this is about.\u201d<\/p>\n Amanda shook her head.\u00a0 \u201cShe can\u2019t.\u00a0 She\u2019s trapped.\u00a0 Especially if an Atherton is out there.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t know the power of her curse.\u00a0 She is forever these woods, this mountain.\u00a0 She is the ruins, the darkness of the mine, and the silent train tracks weaving through the forest. She is this river, the rocks, the wind.\u00a0 She is everything dark, everything evil. The very spirit of vengeance.\u00a0 She is trapped here by powers beyond her understanding, certainly beyond ours.\u00a0 A sinkhole for all the wrong that Mankind does. It comes to this mountain and it never leaves.\u00a0 It can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI won\u2019t be trapped.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cEven in death,\u201d Amanda mimed hanging herself, \u201cthere is no freedom.\u00a0 But\u2026she does lose interest.\u00a0 She does tend to ignore us now.\u201d<\/p>\n Walt watched Amanda fade away, then he rolled to the shore and moved carefully through the pre-dawn gloom.\u00a0 When he hit the train tracks, he turned around and returned to the boat, rowing to the opposite shore.\u00a0 Amanda\u2019s warning was correct.\u00a0 Identical.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[67],"tags":[252,405],"class_list":["post-1359","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-serials","tag-romney-wood","tag-serials"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1359","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1359"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1359\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1360,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1359\/revisions\/1360"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1359"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1359"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/greatsociety.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1359"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}