5.
Harry was chasing me again; chasing me through a field of dead weeds, a full moon illuminating the landscape all around me. I was running from him but knew he was gaining. I could hear the voices getting louder and louder with each step. The voices belonged to Steph and Tami, sounding angry as they screamed profanities at me.
“You killed us, you cunt,” they yelled in thick gurgling voices. I took a quick glance over my shoulder and saw Harry now just 30 yards behind me, a severed head in each hand. In one hand he had a handful of Tami’s beautiful dark hair, her neck looking like it had been torn from her body. In his other hand was the severed head of Steph. Her eyes were missing, dark holes squirming with maggots staring at me.
“Why did you let me die,” Tami called out, accusation in her tone. “You let him kill me, you piece of shit. You were supposed to protect me.”
“I didn’t. I tried to protect you,” I call back, but all three begin to howl with laughter. My feet suddenly tangle up, something caught in between them and I go sprawling into the dirt. I look down to see what had tripped me up and see a long bone, bare of flesh. Then I see dozens of bones lying all around me, if not hundreds. Skulls devoid of flesh, their dark sockets staring at me. I jump to my feet and begin to run again, the laughter gaining ground.
“Isn’t this your bitch?” Harry suddenly yelled at me and I steal another glance, trying not to fall again. He is holding Tami’s head up, her eyes staring at me with their beautiful shine, her trademark Cheshire grin over her face. “I tasted her cunt as she died,” he cried and they all laughed again, howling in glee as I tried to run faster.
“He tasted me, Jim, tasted my cunt,” Tami yelled after me. I tried to run faster, my feet feeling like they were floating across the ground. I turned to look again and saw that Harry had stopped, holding both heads up high in front of him. Steph had eyes again, wide, horrified eyes.
“Jim? You can’t beat the devil, Jim, Jim, Jim-”
6.
“Jim,” the voice cried out as I was shaking from side to side. My eyes slowly opened and I could see a shadow bent over me. It was Steph, her voice distant and afraid. There was a sickening smell in the air and for a moment I had no idea what it was. But as I began to remember where I was, remembered the lightning strike and Clancy caught inside the truck, I recognized the unmistakable smell of cooking flesh.
I tried to sit up, a stabbing pain almost stealing my breath as it tore through my chest. Steph helped me sit up and I saw that the truck was dark again, the fire fully extinguished. The rain had stopped and I could see stars shining in the sky above us.
“How long was I out for?” I asked, but she shook her head.
“I don’t know. My watch was fried,” she said. I looked at my watch, the phosphorescent dial staring back at me, but I couldn’t see the second hand moving and held it up to my ear instead. It was also quiet, the time displayed as 8.04. If there had been a moon, it wouldn’t have helped with the time as it didn’t appear as consistently as the sun, and as there wasn’t one, it didn’t make a difference. It was dark and that meant it was still night time. We would just have to walk to Steph’s car and drive back into town.
Steph helped me to my feet, an act requiring a lot more effort with broken ribs and whatever other injuries my recent flight left me with. As I gained my balance, I glanced at the distant horizon and saw the unmistakable colour of impending dawn. The sky was beginning to turn a dark purple. I pointed at it and Steph groaned.
“How long were we out for?” she muttered. I walked towards the truck and felt no heat coming from it. I touched the bonnet and felt its cold rusty metal, any hint of the fire long gone. The charred remains of Clancy were still sitting in the seat, now reduced to just a bunch of springs. One hand was still grasping the wheel. I could smell the remains of his flesh, now just ashes, his eternal grin glaring at me. Steph came and stood beside me, saw the skull then turned away, never looking back at the remains of Clancy Higgins.
7.
The walk back to her car took us a lot longer, both of us now hobbling and me still nursing my broken ribs. We rested often, sitting on some fallen down tree or high mound of earth, talking about the information we had heard from Clancy.
“A split personality,” I said in wonder as I sat on a damp log. I realised that it may well be the reason that Jeremy Winters never saw what he wanted to. Probably because he had spoken to either Eddie or Harry. It suddenly dawned on me that if Levinson had been experimenting on Lightman, and Lightman was actually killing the people of Cider Hill, he was somehow smuggling the serial killer out of the prison, as well. I was about to mention this to Steph when she beat me to the punch.
“Levinson has been getting him out of that prison
