Carver Hopkins barely remembered the case of that foreign kid, back in '05. He worked for the FBI, of course, and had solved many cases since. The spring, '05 murder in Wisconsin hardly factored into his life any longer. It hadn't ever been solved, but it wasn't the only case he'd failed at. And no one cared anymore.
What brought him to Vahe-Taline had nothing to do with '05. It had nothing to do with the century-old murders, either. It was the recent one that interested him, Isaac Bernard.
Carver never made it to Vahe-Taline.
They would say later that it was a freak accident, that no one could have prevented it. They would say later that it could have been anyone. That anyone could have taken the wrong turn, ended up on the back road, popped a tire on the gravel, skidded out of control, and smashed against the wall. Any car could have exploded, any person could have been killed.
The fact that Carver had worked on the '05 case was irrelevant to most. But not to Hannah Krueger.
She'd stepped outside, suddenly hot and with her heart beating a mile a minute. Liza. Here. Now. Impossible.
But it was happening.
She heard the car crash, saw the sky light up, and watched calmly as stones from the shattered wall rolled past her. She picked her way through the debris.
Carver wasn't quite dead yet.
"What are you doing here?" he gasped out, most of his left side burned, blood oozing from his leg.
She watched him. "I'm doing my job, Hopkins. What...what happened here?"
"I don't know..." He tried to sit up and cried out in pain as his broken ribs dug further into his tissues.
"You're dying. And you're here."
"So...what?
Hannah's eyes narrowed. "You worked on Paul's case. You're the one who had Mari arrested. You're here. Tonight. And you're dying."
He groaned and collapsed, breath shallow, flames licking at the twisted remains of the car. Hannah didn't hear the door bang open behind her as the others ran out.
"We're all here. We're in terrible danger, aren't we, Hopkins?"
His eyes closed, his breathing stilled. Hannah, her job making her dispassionate, turned to face the others.
"We're in danger..."
"This is crazy," Liza burst out. "Who is that man? Oh, my God..." She turned away, gagging.
"He's a dead man." Hannah bowed her head. "Father, please help this man's soul, and rescue us. For though we walk in the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil..."
Words from the Bible left all of their lips, prayers were offered for the spirit of Carver Hopkins.
He was the first.
* *
Kit groaned and tried to sit up, squealing as pain shot up her arm. "My wrist..."
"Well, you shoulda been more careful, darling."
"Oh, holy hell," she cried, scrambling away. "What are you doing here? Why is God torturing me?"
"He's not torturing you," Jay told her, soothing as possible. "It's just - "
"You're breaking and entering. You're - did you just save my life?"
"Probably, yes."
The two got unsteadily to their feet. Kit turned to look at the stairs she'd fallen down. If she hadn't crashed into Jay, she would have broken something more important than her wrist, no doubt about it. "Thanks. But still - do I have to get a restraining order?"
He gave her that crooked smile, so charming when they were teenagers. "Maybe."
They stood there for a minute, silent. Finally, Kit sighed. "Do you want to say good night to your children?"
"That would be nice."
"Then freakin' help me, you moron."
He slipped an arm around her waist and graciously allowed her to lean on him as they picked their way down the hall. "I don't know where we are," he announced.
"Me neither."
They passed the portrait of the girl. Kit shuddered, eyes shutting of their own accord.
Fire...crushed metal...valley of death...
She buried her face in Jay's shoulder, no longer caring that it was him, just needing comfort. No, no, no. It couldn't be back. It couldn't be back! She'd beaten it, years ago. And anyway, it didn't really exist.
For God so loved the world...
Shannon.
Our Father, Who art in Heaven...
Liza.
Water...no way out...darkness...
Jenna.
Jenna?
"My sister," Kit screamed, muffled by Jay's shirt. She raised her head. "My sister. She's in trouble. She's...going to die..."
Jay stopped, spun Kit around to face him. "It's that thing again?"
"My sister, my..."
"Kit, come on. Listen to me, honey. Your sister will be fine."
"You don't understand!"
Jay rolled his eyes. "I never did, sweetheart."
"Don't call me that."
Water...splashing on a table...with no way out...
"Jenna..."
Darkness.
* * *
Jenna opened her eyes, inhaled, and gagged as water flooded her lungs.
She sat up, coughing and trembling. How long had she been out? Fairly long, she suspected, as water had worked its way over her face, and still poured from the broken pipe.
She tried to stand on the table and screamed as her shattered ankle gave out, sending her splashing back into the pool. She reached up, caught hold of a pipe, and pulled herself toward it, eyes searching out the air vent. Large enough for a small person like her to crawl through; at least, she certainly hoped so. She pulled herself along the pipe toward it.
The light bulb flared and exploded, a fragment of the glass grazing her ear. Jenna cried out in pain and kicked her good leg up, at the vent. Nothing. Screwed tight. Behind her, the wires continued to flicker, dying amber illuminating sharply the rising water.
She reached toward a screwdriver high on a nearby shelf, tantalizingly out of reach. "No!" she yelled. "Come on, no!" Her fingers clipped it, knocking it further away. "No!"
In a cruel twist of fate, the light weight of her arm on the ancient wood caused it to collapse, the screwdriver plunging into the depths. "Screw it!" she yelped. Her hands were burning, her arms screaming with the weight of her body supported on them. She tried kicking the grate again, failed, and gave up, plunging into the water.
The light bulb sparked.
Okay, okay. Physical science. She knew this. There was no way the energy running through the wires could generate enough electricity to kill her, despite the water being the perfect conductor. In fact, she wasn't sure that the energy should still be running through the wire. Theoretically, the bulb could be running hot even without the glass.
Did they even have electricity in 1915?
Okay, mind wandering, not a good sign. Jenna dove down, eyes tight shut, her ankle flaring up. No more science, just mechanics. She touched the floor, felt around, hand closed on the screwdriver. She burst up to the surface, teeth clenched to prevent a scream escaping, and applied the tool to the grate. Rusted. Perfect...
The wires sparked again, catching the water and doing very little. Well, maybe a constant current could provide enough power, but no way was it constant.
No way it should have been on in the first place.
Okay, hurry, Jen. Not like your life's at stake. Jeez, what'm I doing, talking to myself? Just turn the screwdriver. Turn. Goddamnit, turn!
The rusted screw popped free. One down, three to go.
Jenna ignored the sparks completely, just turned the screwdriver. Despite being rusted tight, when the sheer power of her will was utilized, the screws were shockingly easy to remove. Two, three, four...
Pain flaring white-hot in her head, Jenna hoisted herself into the vent just as the water reached high enough to touch the wire. Ripples of electricity instantly spread through the water. Jenna suffered a moment of curiosity, then beat back the urge to see just how much power there was. She began to crawl. Pain, pain with every movement, but if water flooded this vent, she was dead.
Just keep crawling, don't think about physical impossibilities, don't think about the agony...
Just keep crawling...
* * *
At that point, several things happened at once.
The lights on the ground floor went out.
A strange wind swept past Liza's car, sending ripples across the American flag attached to it, but not touching anything else in the vicinity.
The TV lost power, then came back on, static crackling loudly in the sudden stillness.
The swaying chandelier in the kitchen began to spin, its thick rope fraying rapidly.
"Oh, God!" Liza yelled as they were plunged into darkness. She reached out frantically and managed to whap someone.
"Careful!"
"What happened to the lights?"
There was a thunk in the living room and a yell from Josh. After a moment, he called out, "We're okay in here. The TV's even on. Broken, but on."
Alan groped his way out of the kitchen and into the main hall. He grunted in pain as two small bodies crashed into his. "Hey, girls, let's go fix the lights again."
He led them over and knelt. A flashlight came on, helpfully held by Amy. "Thanks," he told her, examining the wires.
They were fine. The duct tape hadn't moved.
The lights flickered, then began to glow, dimmer than before, but adequate. It was at that moment that the chandelier's rope snapped, and it fell onto the table, which collapsed under its weight. The women leapt back, narrowly escaping its fall.
"Oh, God," Liza said again.
Alan looked into the living room on his way back to the kitchen. The teenagers were fine; their show had come back on. Hayley and Anna, however, still clung to him.
The kitchen was evacuated by the women. Liza was half-sobbing. "It almost killed me," she wailed.
Mari watched it, no emotion showing in her dark eyes. "The longer you survive, the more you'll wish it had."
* * *
Mike opened another door and flipped on the lights, which flickered alarmingly. The room was devoid of life. A desk sat against one wall, hastily abandoned, with papers, tools, and nails strewn about. "Nothin'," he muttered, moving to close the door.
The kid slipped past him. "Hang on."
Mike watched, slightly amused, as the short, leather-clad teen prowled around in the room, peering under the desk and into the air vent. "Hey, I don't know your name."
The kid glanced up from his work. "Randy. It's Randy."
"Come on, Randy, nothing to see here." Mike left the kid behind, trusting that he would follow soon, and continued down the corridor, opening another door and entering.
Randy immediately shut the door and went over to the desk. He sat down in the chair and pulled his walkie-talkie out of his pocket. "Alicia?"
After a brief moment of static, her voice reached him. "Randy, hi."
"Are we still on for the hazing?"
"Hang on, I'll ask." He heard the distant murmur of an argument, then the crackle of Josh's voice.
"I will do anything you want me to do, as long as we can just leave."
"Excellent. Nick and Kelly are bringing Emory up now, so you guys should get started with the water. Maybe go upstairs. I'll keep at least one of the adults busy."
There was a moment of silence, then Alicia returned. "Randy, where's Jenna?"
"We're looking, we're looking. Over."
"Over and out."
He hooked the walkie talkie onto his belt and headed for the door. He heard a metallic thump from inside the air vent and turned to look, then turned back to the door at the sound of a click. He tried the handle - locked.
Okay, so someone was playing a prank. That seemed to be happening a lot in this place. Whatever - he was cool. Randy was an expert at lockpicking.
* * *
Alicia tossed the walkie talkie onto the couch. "Okay, distraction time. Usually that's Jenna's job, but...I can handle it. You go upstairs."
"Alone?" Josh squeaked.
"Hey, I thought you were made of sterner stuff than this! Get over it. I did."
Josh tugged on his earlobe, wincing. "I'd like to, but I don't easily forget being attacked. I'm not going anywhere alone."
"Well, I don't have anyone to send with you."
"So let's wait for the others!"
The others chose that moment to enter the living room. Nick and Kelly were supporting Emory, who, though relatively unharmed, had a wild look in his eyes. Josh pointed at him.
"See? See? This place even got to Em."
"Hey, you're not in the gang yet, you can't just be calling him 'Em'," Nick reprimanded the newbie.
"Oh, whatever."
Emory collapsed on a chair, took a long drag on his cigarette, and began to cough. "You're gonna hack up a lung one of these days," Alicia noted.
"Who are you, Jenna?" Emory snapped. "I'm cold, I'm tired, and I'm going to die, so just shut your mouth and let me have a cig in peace."
"Going to die?" Josh and Alicia asked almost simultaneously.
"Well, yeah. If she doesn't get me, then my brother will kill me, 'cause the albino kid broke my hardware. You know how much electronics cost these days?"
"He's gone insane," Kelly proclaimed, jumping onto the couch. "He keeps talking about some mystery woman and an albino kid. I don't get you, Em, I honestly don't."
"Forget it," Nick said. "We came here to haze Josh, we're going to haze Josh. Then we'll leave."
"What about Jenna?" Kelly asked.
"Randy can find her. Then we'll all go."
Alicia nodded. "Right. Em, you're the distraction. The rest of us are going upstairs to find some sinks."
"Nuh uh," Kelly said. "I like this show. I'm not getting up."
"All right, fine. Josh, Nick, let's go."
* * *
The adults were deep in an argument and didn't notice the kids sneaking past them. In fact, they hadn't even witnessed the teens returning from the basement.
"I am so sick of this shit!" Shannon snapped. "Why won't you just admit that it's your fault the group broke up!"
"My fault. Uh huh. Right. I'll believe that when elephants fly." Mari crossed her arms. "How is it my fault that all of you stopped trusting me?"
"We know what we saw," Liza murmured.
"We didn't really see anything..."
"Now's a fine time to get all noble, Amy! Why not stick up for me ten years ago, huh?"
"Because ten years ago we were younger, and we were freakin' scared, okay? Is that all right with you?"
"I still have no idea what's going on," Alan announced timidly. "So I'll just put the girls to bed..." He herded the twins into the bedroom and paused on the way back to look in on the kids. "Oh, hey...uh...just how many teenagers are in this house tonight?"
Kelly shrugged. "I'd assume just the seven of us."
"Seven. I think I've seen all of you, then."
Emory glanced up. "Yeah, well, I'm very confused over here. I thought this place was empty."
"Well, it is. Most of the time. You just picked the wrong time to show up."