THE RITUAL ~ Chapter 8
Strange Developments
Welcome to Chapter 8!
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What happened last:
A.J. discovered something disturbing online, the boys had a creepy experience involving Mr. Malbourne, and Alex may have a date with someone he barely knows...
Strange Developments
The school year came to an end as summer arrived at last. It should have been a joyous time, but the two recent deaths and the disappearance of Denise McFarland colored the idea of “vacation”. Something unsettling was going on in Brook’s End. Even if all three incidents proved totally unrelated in any other way, they had all happened in the past two and a half months…and they had all happened right here. And the last two occurred only just last week.
Usually, summer vacation meant late-night shenanigans for a lot of kids. But with a possible killer or kidnapper on the loose, suddenly late night anything seemed unappealing. Besides, the town officials set a curfew for minors, so being out late wasn’t an option, anyway. Most of the kids thought that, even if they stuck together in small groups, how could they be a match for this guy if he had a gun? And, it might even be the workings of a group effort of two or more perpetrators?
Luanne sat in her room, thoroughly depressed. But not for any of the above. Her fantasy of independent wealth had been trampled: Mrs. Curson left no will and so Pops had to go on the open market; there was no way Luanne could afford to buy it. Besides, Andy had skipped town to look for a cook’s position in Beaumont and Dean decided to give up cooking altogether and go to adult school and learn about computers. So, the entire plan she had come up with turned to dust. What was she going to do now?
Life sucks, she thought.
***
Scott felt torn. Part of him simmered with anger at the world in general: that all this had to happen now. He had just graduated, for chrissake! The graduation ceremony went on as planned, but the unspoken tone that hung over it proved implacably morbid. Hey kids, you graduated; now don’t get killed. Everyone was thrilled to be out of school, but they all had unnerving, varying levels of fear behind their smiles. And, dammit: his last summer before going away to college; it was supposed to be the best summer of his friggin’ life. And then this had to happen.
The other side of him was mad at himself: that he felt all the above and recognized it as selfish and immature. He should be caring about Denise and the safety of his friends and neighbors, not about how many kegger parties he was due and not gonna receive.
Most of all, he hated where he stood: at this frustrating brink of adulthood. His sense of responsibility and obligation rapidly overshadowing all the carefree flights-of-fancy of his childhood. That, he deemed the worst thing about adolescence: not the acne, not the sexual frustration, not the disappointing revelation that your parents, despite everything, were flawed and no better than you. The worst thing was discovering this one thing you had been waiting for your whole life—adulthood—wasn’t the freedom you thought it would be; that it was your childhood—that thing you were about to lose forever—that had been the true freedom all along.
***
Robert’s thoughts waxed less philosophical, but in the same mindset: summer looked bleak as hell. Historically, summer meant a lot of things. But most of all, it meant those wild, exciting afternoons of the rush of throwing himself off the bluff, with Randy right behind, laughing all the way down. But Robert no longer felt too keen to get back to the bluff any time soon. Even with the scene returned to its original state, Robert had the feeling he’d never be able to look at Flat Rock and not see that bloody, mangled body in his mind.
He wasn’t totally despondent, though; he did have the mystery of the new cellar door. His dad had told him that if the Malbournes had any reconstruction done on their house, they had enlisted an outside company. He told Robert he hoped it had all been done according to code. Robert wondered how he could find out. And, even if it had all been done up to code, why not be neighborly and hire local folks? Unless you didn’t want local folks to know your business. Because you had something to hide. So, the depressing weight he felt found itself mixed with the suspicious thoughts that excited Robert and set his mind on trying to get some answers.
***
Alex also felt out of sorts. He worried about the killer/kidnapper, he hadn’t done so well on his exams, and, he couldn’t help feeling anxious about John. They had planned to meet at the track at dusk. But with the curfew, that was impossible. And they hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, so the week had gone by, and they hadn’t met to run. Alex had forgone his running anyway to study.
But that first Saturday morning, he got dressed and ready to run. He knew he’d have to always run in the morning, now. Not just Saturdays. And since he had no idea when John would be running now, he figured mornings were as good as any other time. He stepped outside and started to stretch. A thought that had been waiting to form came together: he might not see John again till the fall. Alex stood and looked at the quiet world around him. The solitude he used to enjoy so much suddenly seemed lonely and hollow. Like a grave. Then, a strange second thought came to him. He started to run in the direction he never went.
***
A.J. spent her evenings the past week divided between studying for her exams and studying her notes from her internet research. She couldn’t wait to tell Scott everything she had found—especially the piece from The Blotter. But when he called and told her everything would need to sit on the back burner for finals, she actually felt relieved. She wanted to present her findings with clarity. And it turned out she came to like the idea of telling the boys all at once. This one time, she would be the leader of the group, not just a hanger-on.
And wait till they heard what she had found.
***
Mrs. Curson’s funeral occurred halfway through finals week. The Good Neighbors had done a nice job. Or so they said: no one could verify the fact because, aside from the Neighbors and Father Newton, no one graced the service. When A.J. heard how small the gathering had been, she felt those pangs of guilt again. She told herself she would go to the cemetery and pay her respects.
Someday.
***
Randy checked out his hair in the mirror. It had become an obsession. He never had it this short and now he swore he could literally see it growing. And it had been over a week since his last haircut. Maybe he needed another one. Or maybe at least a trim. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to go back to the shop. Mrs. Malbourne could tell him how often he should get it cut to keep his buzz looking nice. And she did say he looked handsome. Maybe she’d be happy to see him, too. Maybe she liked younger guys.
More importantly, Randy told himself, he thought someone should keep an eye out for her. He couldn’t say if Mr. Malbourne was up to something or not, but if he was, Randy didn’t want anything bad to happen to Mrs. Malbourne. He would protect her, if needed. And the thought of being her protector gave him a boner. In more ways than one.
***
Alex slowed down to a walk, cooling down as he approached the cemetery. He knew where he would go. He made his way across the greens past the graves of people he never knew. He came to the plot he was looking for. He stopped and looked at the headstone. A long silence passed before he started to speak.
“I don’t really know what to say. Except that I wish I had talked to you more; gotten to know you better.”
He looked at the headstone.
“I was afraid,” he said. “I’m trying not to be afraid.”
Then, the emotion of it all got the better of him. He started to choke up.
“I really wish you hadn’t died.”
The tears that burned their way into his eyes surprised Alex, but they were a long time coming. The sight of Bennie Johnson’s name carved on the tombstone hit him hard: life was unfair; good people suffered and died too soon.
“I wish I could talk to you. I know I could have talked to you. And I could really use someone to talk to right now. Because I am afraid. And I’m so alone…”
His face crumpled into itself, and he knelt down and cried, quietly—the tears falling uncontrollably, his body wrenching with sobs from the very depths of his soul.
Behind him, half-hidden behind a tree, a figure watched him. The man brought a finger to his right sideburn and scratched, slowly.
***
“So, what have you got for us?”
Scott asked the question as the Brothers waited around the table in the far corner of the park. They had picked the spot for security; it stood secluded and they didn’t want anyone to peg them as vigilantes on a crusade. Scott worried what they were doing could easily be construed in any number of negative ways and he didn’t want to risk it.
“Well, A.J. said. “Before I get into that, I wanted to share a little piece of more personal news.”
“And that would be…”
A.J. stalled long enough to get them going. Then, she spilled the beans. “I’m gonna be working at Mrs. Malbourne’s place starting next week.”
Jaws dropped all around. A.J. only really cared what Scott thought. And he knew it, so he threw on a smile as fast as he could.
“That’s great,” he said. But a part of him hoped he could have kept those two women far away from each other.
“You don’t know how to cut hair,” Robert said like a gauntlet.
“I’m not going to, dork. I’m going to cashier and clean and stuff. And do manicures. Get some of the female population in there. I think we can make it the best place ever. Blow Stella’s out of the water.”
A.J.’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“That’s awesome, A.J.,” Alex said.
“Yeah,” Randy agreed. “Really cool.”
Even Scott turned around. The idea of A.J. having a job again was good news, after all. Hell, it was a relief.
“Yeah,” he said, giving her a special smile. “That’s terrific.” She returned the smile, proud and pleased.
Robert broke it up: “So what about the rest of this stuff?”
This stuff referred to the clipboard of notes she had brought with her. Everyone’s attention returned to the matter at hand.
“Okay, I didn’t find a lot of stuff at first. I mean there were other gross things that have happened, but nothing close to us and nothing that seemed related. I thought: Okay, if we call Bennie an accident and Mrs. Curson a suicide—which they may very well be—that still leaves Denise. So, I thought: What about Denise’s disappearance stands out?”
She looked around. The boys all shrugged.
“I didn’t think of anything either. Then, on a hunch, I checked out what day she disappeared. It was on a night with no moon. Didn’t know if that was meaningful, so I did a search on dark moons and it led me to all sorts of weird stuff. Pagan rites, witchcraft, satanic beliefs—all sorts of occult crap I never knew was anything but fodder for horror stories. But apparently there are really people who are into this stuff. Like it’s their religion.”
“Freaks,” Robert muttered.
“Whatever,” A.J. continued. “I just kept following the links and I wound up with tons of stuff I printed out for you guys to look at to see if you make any connections. I figure, the more brains that look at this stuff, the more likely we are to see if any of it’s meaningful. But I did find these two things that I think are gonna freak you out.”
She separated a couple of papers from the rest.
“This is an article from The Beaumont Blotter. They print anything, apparently. You know how discreet our local paper is; it never reveals any details that could be offensive or whatever. I had already checked to see if the old Griffin house murders occurred on a dark moon. They didn’t. But they did happen on a full moon. And the Blotter article describes it in detail. What the woman did in the kitchen. She did this whole thing with candles and whatnot. You can read it.”
She tossed the paper with the others.
This,” she said, “Is where it gets interesting. I was following links on full moons and got a lot of the same Wiccan and Pagan crap. But then this one link about Satanism led me down a more historical path. Apparently, Satan is most likely a derivative of Set who was an Egyptian god of evil: storms, chaos … anything dangerous and scary, basically. He had a ton of names, too: Seth, Setekh, Setesh, Seti…all which link to the later Christian creation of Satan and probably to former gods of evil from before the Egyptian rule.”
“What’s the point of all this?” Robert asked, impatient and not interested in a history lesson.
“The point is I searched on those other names and Setish lead me to Setishan which led me to Satashan which is a cult that believed that everlasting life and ultimate power could only manifest in the body of Satashan and the only way to become part of Satashan was to renounce all others—read “kill them”—and then you sacrifice yourself—read “kill yourself”—on the full moon in October which, according to one of the Wiccan calendars I found, is called the Full Blood Moon.”
“Probably relates somehow to our Halloween,” Scott pondered.
“Maybe,” A.J. said. “But here’s the clincher. And you can compare them for yourselves. The methodology for preparing yourself to become one with Satashan is exactly what Mrs. Griffin did in her kitchen. Exactly.”
Nobody talked. The boys were all taking in the information. Except for Robert who squirmed in his seat, annoyed.
“So what?” he said. “We all know that lady was crazy. She killed her whole family and then herself. Who cares what crap she believed? She’s dead! She’s not responsible for Denise’s disappearance. “
“Cool it, Robert.”
All eyes turned to Scott. “Every piece of knowledge is helpful.” He turned to A.J. “Are you saying you think there’s a connection? That maybe one of Denise’s parents is responsible? That we should be watching out for the other members of the family?”
“I don’t know,” A.J. admitted. She felt so excited to have figured out what happened in the Griffin house all those years ago, she really hadn’t given much thought to how helpful that information would be for the current crime. Or crimes. Still, she forged on with her conclusion. “But the bottom line is this: if there was a crazy lady only a few decades ago who believed in this Satashan, it’s possible there’s someone out there right now who believes in some other occult B.S. and we ought to keep our eyes open. Because if Denise’s disappearance is not an isolated incident, if it’s part of some ritual, then whatever is going on might not be over.”
Silence hung around the table. A.J.’s final statement suddenly made the curfew seem like it wasn’t just a good idea; that it might keep somebody alive. Because A.J. might just be right.
…it might not be over.
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"not the disappointing revelation that your parents, despite everything, were flawed and no better than you. The worst thing was discovering this one thing you had been waiting for your whole life—adulthood—wasn’t the freedom you thought it would be; that it was your childhood—that thing you were about to lose forever—that had been the true freedom all along."
Loved this. Adulthood is another cage isn't it?
Interesting find from AJ. Can't wait to see what happens next.
Rock on, AJ! I like getting more of the backstory here.