here?” asked Alma.
Helen sighed and raised her brows. “Too long.”
“Since 1996?” asked Paul.
“No, no,” said Helen, as if worried the others would think poorly of her had she been an employee at the time of the event. She looked over at Rosemary, and then back at the others, and her discomfort was apparent. “ They hired me several years after that. Well after the first sleepers started to die.”
“How many died?” asked Paul.
“In my time?” Helen considered the question for a moment and then said, “A couple hundred or so.”
“Christ,” said Jacker as he ran his hands through his curly, shoulder length hair in exasperation. “How come you never went to the cops or anything?”
Helen was hesitant to answer, but the scrutiny of the group only intensified with her silence. “I made some mistakes here, for sure. I’m not claiming total ignorance. I knew what they were doing was messed up, but I was hired to try and help the people in there be comfortable, not to question what caused all this. The reason they kept me on for so long is because I don’t ask questions.”
“I guess that’s one way to live a guilt-free life,” said Paul, clearly discontent with her answer.
“Everyone makes bad choices from time to time,” said Rosemary, surprising the others by coming to Helen’s defense. “Trust me. I know better than most.”
“Should we try to find Oliver?” asked Paul.
Rosemary shook her head. “Not yet. He’s not leaving town, I guarantee it. For now, the most important thing for us to do is to find Ben and get him back here.”
“What happens if we do manage to get him back here?” asked Alma. “What do we do then?”
Rosemary didn’t have an answer. Everyone was waiting for one, so she just offered something she hoped would placate them. “The Watcher will take care of him.”
“I’m not going to hand my brother over to be killed,” said Alma.
“We can do whatever it takes to save Ben, but we’ve got to do whatever we can to keep The Skeleton Man out of the real world. He’s too dangerous. Now let’s stop wasting time.” She put her hand on the nurse’s shoulder and said, “Helen, show me where your car was parked.”
Helen led the way through the hallway to the door of the parking lot. Rosemary went out first, eager to track Michael down. The darkness was prevalent, shrouding most of their surroundings save what the moon revealed. The lot was nearly silent, devoid of even the chirp of crickets. Cada E.I.B. was fenced off from the rest of the world, a prison of concrete, steel, and glass. All around them lived The Watchers, who Rosemary was acutely aware existed in the dead things that stole the world from nature. The walls, windows, and floors were anything but innocuous. They were the playground of the creatures that Oliver had awoken.
There were tire tracks on the pavement. In Michael’s haste to escape Widowsfield, he’d hit the gas too hard, leaving behind the tracks; like a signature he hadn’t meant to write. Rosemary gingerly removed the glove on her right hand, and then reached out to lay her fingertips on the black skid mark.
Paul, Alma, and Jacker stood with Helen, beside the door that led back into Cada E.I.B.’s facility. They watched as the psychometric worked.
Rosemary closed her eyes and waited for the past to be revealed to her. Over the past five years she’d gotten better at practicing her gift, although she still hated doing it. Every time she focused on drawing information out of the world around her that she had no business knowing, her mind struggled to maintain sanity. She’d developed a strong appreciation of what was and what wasn’t the truth about her own life, since it was so easy to accept that some of the things she remembered to be true hadn’t actually happened to her at all. There were too many instances in her life when she was certain that she’d done something in the past that had actually been done by someone
Helen sighed and raised her brows. “Too long.”
“Since 1996?” asked Paul.
“No, no,” said Helen, as if worried the others would think poorly of her had she been an employee at the time of the event. She looked over at Rosemary, and then back at the others, and her discomfort was apparent. “ They hired me several years after that. Well after the first sleepers started to die.”
“How many died?” asked Paul.
“In my time?” Helen considered the question for a moment and then said, “A couple hundred or so.”
“Christ,” said Jacker as he ran his hands through his curly, shoulder length hair in exasperation. “How come you never went to the cops or anything?”
Helen was hesitant to answer, but the scrutiny of the group only intensified with her silence. “I made some mistakes here, for sure. I’m not claiming total ignorance. I knew what they were doing was messed up, but I was hired to try and help the people in there be comfortable, not to question what caused all this. The reason they kept me on for so long is because I don’t ask questions.”
“I guess that’s one way to live a guilt-free life,” said Paul, clearly discontent with her answer.
“Everyone makes bad choices from time to time,” said Rosemary, surprising the others by coming to Helen’s defense. “Trust me. I know better than most.”
“Should we try to find Oliver?” asked Paul.
Rosemary shook her head. “Not yet. He’s not leaving town, I guarantee it. For now, the most important thing for us to do is to find Ben and get him back here.”
“What happens if we do manage to get him back here?” asked Alma. “What do we do then?”
Rosemary didn’t have an answer. Everyone was waiting for one, so she just offered something she hoped would placate them. “The Watcher will take care of him.”
“I’m not going to hand my brother over to be killed,” said Alma.
“We can do whatever it takes to save Ben, but we’ve got to do whatever we can to keep The Skeleton Man out of the real world. He’s too dangerous. Now let’s stop wasting time.” She put her hand on the nurse’s shoulder and said, “Helen, show me where your car was parked.”
Helen led the way through the hallway to the door of the parking lot. Rosemary went out first, eager to track Michael down. The darkness was prevalent, shrouding most of their surroundings save what the moon revealed. The lot was nearly silent, devoid of even the chirp of crickets. Cada E.I.B. was fenced off from the rest of the world, a prison of concrete, steel, and glass. All around them lived The Watchers, who Rosemary was acutely aware existed in the dead things that stole the world from nature. The walls, windows, and floors were anything but innocuous. They were the playground of the creatures that Oliver had awoken.
There were tire tracks on the pavement. In Michael’s haste to escape Widowsfield, he’d hit the gas too hard, leaving behind the tracks; like a signature he hadn’t meant to write. Rosemary gingerly removed the glove on her right hand, and then reached out to lay her fingertips on the black skid mark.
Paul, Alma, and Jacker stood with Helen, beside the door that led back into Cada E.I.B.’s facility. They watched as the psychometric worked.
Rosemary closed her eyes and waited for the past to be revealed to her. Over the past five years she’d gotten better at practicing her gift, although she still hated doing it. Every time she focused on drawing information out of the world around her that she had no business knowing, her mind struggled to maintain sanity. She’d developed a strong appreciation of what was and what wasn’t the truth about her own life, since it was so easy to accept that some of the things she remembered to be true hadn’t actually happened to her at all. There were too many instances in her life when she was certain that she’d done something in the past that had actually been done by someone
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