John Manning - The Killing Room

“He’s a zombie,” Carolyn said. She knew this to be the case; she had experience with such things, after all. “He’s not a ghost like Clem, but he’s clearly still in the power of whatever force controls that room.”

“But you broke the curse,” Linda said tearfully. “You survived the night. Dean always believed that if someone could survive a night in that room, its power would be broken and we would be free.”

“Apparently,” Douglas said, “all we did was piss it off.”

Carolyn ran her hands through her hair. She realized there was blood on her fingers. “It needs a vessel to act against us,” she said, understanding dawning on her. “For eighty years it used Clem. Now that we took Clem away from it, it needed someone else. So it settled on David.”

“I don’t understand what connection your ex-boyfriend has with that room,” Douglas said.

Carolyn shook her head. “I doubt there’s a connection. But the room knows more than we gave it credit for. Whether it found David and brought him here-or whether he came here on his own, looking for revenge on me-the room clearly understood he could be used against us, and so it took over his mind and his body.” She shuddered. “What that means is that anyone could be used against us. The forces that control that room can see into our minds and our hearts.”

The children began to cry again. Linda clasped them to her breast.

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn said. “I don’t mean to frighten them. But they need to understand how serious this is.”

“Will someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Karen cried.

Paula took a deep breath and recapped, as best she could, the long, terrible ordeal of the family curse and the reason why she had been so opposed to having children. Meanwhile, Carolyn once again checked her cell phone and then the house phone. Both remained dead.

“That gun isn’t going to be much help to us,” she said softly to Douglas.

He shrugged. “Well, it might slow him down a little, and give the kids at least a chance to get away.”

Suddenly they both tensed. The doorknobs of the parlor doors had begun to turn.

Douglas aimed the gun at the doors and shouted over his shoulder, “Linda, take the kids and go out the window!”

But just then the doors opened.

“Hold your fire!” Carolyn yelled.

It was Chelsea.

The girl ran into the parlor straight into Carolyn’s arms. She was sobbing. Her mascara ran down her face in black streaks.

“My father!” she cried. “My father!”

“What about your father?” Carolyn asked.

“He’s dead!” She looked up into Carolyn’s eyes. “Someone cut off his head!”

“Dear God,” Paula groaned. Linda clapped her hands over the children’s ears.

“It’s a slaughter,” Douglas said, closing the parlor doors securely again. “Just like when the lottery was breached in the past. Until the room had claimed someone, other members of the family were killed off. That’s what’s happening here.”

“But the lottery wasn’t breached,” Carolyn argued. “It was held as always. Someone was chosen, and someone went into the room.”

“But I survived,” Douglas said. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“We’ve got to find a way of pacifying the room,” Paula said, wincing as she headed over to the wall and took down the other rifle that was hanging there. “Give it what it wants, or we all will die.”

“No,” Carolyn objected. “There has to be another way.”

“The amulet,” Chelsea said, sitting down on the sofa and hugging herself. “I want that amulet that protects us.”

“Didn’t do the trick,” Douglas told her. “I was simply compelled to rip it off my neck.”

“We can’t rely on trinkets anymore,” Carolyn said.

“What do you suggest then?” Paula asked.

“We were able to send Clem away to rest in peace. We need to do the same to whatever force controls that room.”

“We don’t even know what it is!” Douglas said.

“No,” Carolyn admitted. “But Beatrice does.”

She glanced out the window.

“She’s out there somewhere. She’s the only reason we’re still alive. Her power isn’t as strong as the power in the room, but she can still manage to have an influence. I’m convinced that if not for Beatrice, David would have been able to burst through those doors and kill us all. But she can only hold him off for so long.” Carolyn took a deep breath. “We need to find out what force controls that room.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Paula asked, not a little impatient. “We all clasp hands for another séance?”

“Possibly,” Carolyn said. “But someone else has the information we need, too. Someone we can simply ask directly and this time demand he tell us.”

“Uncle Howie,” Douglas said.

Carolyn nodded. Paula, too, seemed to agree.

“If he’s still alive,” Douglas said.

“I think he is,” Carolyn said. “The force has allowed him to live for eighty years. Nine times he’s escaped being chosen in the lottery. For some reason, the force wants him alive. And it’s time we found out what that reason is.”

“But where is Uncle Howard?” Paula asked. “How can we get to him? If any one of us leaves this room, surely that madman will kill us.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Carolyn said. “He would kill any one of you. He will not kill me.”

She stepped forward and placed her hand on the doorknob.

“No!” Douglas shouted. “I won’t let you go out there alone!”

“I’m the only one not a family member,” she said. “As much as I wish it were different, Douglas, right now I’m glad I didn’t yet accept your offer of marriage.”

He looked at her with wide, terrified eyes.

Carolyn turned the doorknob. “The force in that room has no grievance with me. I’m the only one who can safely step outside this room.”

“The force may have no grievance with you,” Douglas said, “but David Cooke does.”

She steeled herself. “It’s time I finally confronted David Cooke.”

Inside the linen closet Ryan slowly lowered his hands from his ears. The house had fallen eerily quiet. The screaming and crashing and the gunshots had stopped. When the commotion had begun, Ryan had looked over the banister into the foyer below and seen a scar-faced man on Douglas’s back raising a knife. Without even a moment’s hesitation Ryan had turned on his heel and run down the hall, scurrying into the nearest hiding space he could find. For the next hour-or had it been less than that?-he had kept as still in the closet as possible, his hands clamped over his ears to drown out the sounds of his family being murdered, one by one.

Is it possible they’re all dead? he wondered.

And if so, why was I spared?

Surely the killer was some demon from that room. Douglas had apparently survived the night, but something got him this morning instead. And from the screams and thuds that ensued, he wasn’t the only one to die.

How long before it comes to get me?

Ryan knew that for something that powerful, a simple linen closet was not going to provide protection for long. It would sense him. It would track him down. He shuddered, tears squeezing out from between his closed eyelids. He remembered the terror he’d felt when the man with the pitchfork had threatened him. He dreaded what might come.

“Please spare me,” he whispered-to whom, he had no idea.

He didn’t want to die. He had so much to live for. He was going to be the most successful member of his family ever. He’d even thought of running for elected office. Nothing lower than U.S. senator, of course. It wasn’t fair that he might die! The evil force of that room could have his cousin Douglas. Douglas was never going to amount to anything. But Ryan was going to be big. He was going to be Somebody!