Prologue
Nine years ago
“Come on,” he muttered, his bloodied hands trembling as he tried to bring up his brother’s number on the phone. “Jack, please, just answer for once. I need you!”
Raising the phone to the side of his face, Ben Freeman stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the corpse of Garland Packer. A few minutes ago, the room had been filled with noise, with shouts and cries and the sound of furniture being knocked over during a struggle; now the whole farmhouse was silent, save for Ben’s harried breaths and the sound of him whispering to himself, begging his brother to answer.
In his mind’s eye, he could see Jack glancing at the ringing phone, seeing Ben’s name, and not bothering to answer.
“You’ve reached Jack,” a voice said suddenly on the other end of the line. “I’m not here right now, so -”
“Damn it!” Ben hissed, cutting the call and staring at the phone for a moment before bringing up his sister’s number. He waited, while looking over at the corpse, before suddenly he heard someone picking up on the other end of the line.
“Hey,” Beth said calmly, sounding a little bored with the sound of a TV in the background, “what’s -”
“Are you at home?” Ben asked.
“Um… Yeah, why?”
“Is Jack there?”
“No. Why?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Why?”
“Where the hell is he?” he shouted, momentarily losing his temper before realizing that yelling at his sister wouldn’t help. “Do you know where he is? Come on, he must have said something to you before he went out.”
“Ben, is something wrong? You sound kinda stressed.”
He paused, desperate for help but aware that Beth wouldn’t be the right person. In fact, she’d be very much the wrong person. It had to be Jack.
“I’m fine,” he said after a moment, surprising himself with the calm tone he was suddenly able to bring to his voice. “I just wanted to ask Jack something, that’s all.”
“Liar.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“What’s wrong? I know you’re up to something, Ben. Come on, I know I’m not as cool as Jack but I still might be able to help. Can’t you let me in on one of your exciting little scrapes for once?”
“Beth, I -”
Suddenly he saw Garland Packer’s body twitching. Frozen for a moment, Ben watched as the old man’s right hand started to move, reaching out toward the doorway. The sight was so bizarre, so utterly horrifying, that for a few seconds it seemed impossible, as if it was some fevered vision intruding from a dream.
“Oh God,” Ben whispered, “no, he can’t be, he’s not…”
His voice trailed off.
“Is this important?” Beth asked. “It’s just, Bob and I were about to -”
“Forget it,” he replied, “have fun. I’m fine.”
Cutting the call before she had a chance to say anything else, he paused for a moment, watching as Garland Packer’s arm continued to reach toward the doorway. The rest of the old man’s body wasn’t moving at all; it was as if, like one of the spiders that Ben and Jack had killed in the old days, Packer’s arm was twitching out a few postmortem spasms. Thinking back to the spiders, Ben remembered how he and Jack had plucked their legs off one by one, leaving just the little black control center of a body in the center. Maybe, he figured, that was what was happening now with Garland Packer, except the man’s arms and legs weren’t -
Suddenly he heard a faint, guttural groan.
“I didn’t kill him,” Ben whispered, taking a step closer but stopping as he saw Packer’s head move slightly. The back of the old man’s scalp was still bloodied and crushed, glistening as blood dribbled from the wound. A few minutes earlier, just after he’d struck out with the brick in a fit of panic, Ben had even thought he could see some brain matter mixed in with the bloody mashed flesh.
A moment later, another groan came from Packer’s lips.
“Oh God,” Ben whispered, poised to run but not
Nine years ago
“Come on,” he muttered, his bloodied hands trembling as he tried to bring up his brother’s number on the phone. “Jack, please, just answer for once. I need you!”
Raising the phone to the side of his face, Ben Freeman stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the corpse of Garland Packer. A few minutes ago, the room had been filled with noise, with shouts and cries and the sound of furniture being knocked over during a struggle; now the whole farmhouse was silent, save for Ben’s harried breaths and the sound of him whispering to himself, begging his brother to answer.
In his mind’s eye, he could see Jack glancing at the ringing phone, seeing Ben’s name, and not bothering to answer.
“You’ve reached Jack,” a voice said suddenly on the other end of the line. “I’m not here right now, so -”
“Damn it!” Ben hissed, cutting the call and staring at the phone for a moment before bringing up his sister’s number. He waited, while looking over at the corpse, before suddenly he heard someone picking up on the other end of the line.
“Hey,” Beth said calmly, sounding a little bored with the sound of a TV in the background, “what’s -”
“Are you at home?” Ben asked.
“Um… Yeah, why?”
“Is Jack there?”
“No. Why?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Why?”
“Where the hell is he?” he shouted, momentarily losing his temper before realizing that yelling at his sister wouldn’t help. “Do you know where he is? Come on, he must have said something to you before he went out.”
“Ben, is something wrong? You sound kinda stressed.”
He paused, desperate for help but aware that Beth wouldn’t be the right person. In fact, she’d be very much the wrong person. It had to be Jack.
“I’m fine,” he said after a moment, surprising himself with the calm tone he was suddenly able to bring to his voice. “I just wanted to ask Jack something, that’s all.”
“Liar.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“What’s wrong? I know you’re up to something, Ben. Come on, I know I’m not as cool as Jack but I still might be able to help. Can’t you let me in on one of your exciting little scrapes for once?”
“Beth, I -”
Suddenly he saw Garland Packer’s body twitching. Frozen for a moment, Ben watched as the old man’s right hand started to move, reaching out toward the doorway. The sight was so bizarre, so utterly horrifying, that for a few seconds it seemed impossible, as if it was some fevered vision intruding from a dream.
“Oh God,” Ben whispered, “no, he can’t be, he’s not…”
His voice trailed off.
“Is this important?” Beth asked. “It’s just, Bob and I were about to -”
“Forget it,” he replied, “have fun. I’m fine.”
Cutting the call before she had a chance to say anything else, he paused for a moment, watching as Garland Packer’s arm continued to reach toward the doorway. The rest of the old man’s body wasn’t moving at all; it was as if, like one of the spiders that Ben and Jack had killed in the old days, Packer’s arm was twitching out a few postmortem spasms. Thinking back to the spiders, Ben remembered how he and Jack had plucked their legs off one by one, leaving just the little black control center of a body in the center. Maybe, he figured, that was what was happening now with Garland Packer, except the man’s arms and legs weren’t -
Suddenly he heard a faint, guttural groan.
“I didn’t kill him,” Ben whispered, taking a step closer but stopping as he saw Packer’s head move slightly. The back of the old man’s scalp was still bloodied and crushed, glistening as blood dribbled from the wound. A few minutes earlier, just after he’d struck out with the brick in a fit of panic, Ben had even thought he could see some brain matter mixed in with the bloody mashed flesh.
A moment later, another groan came from Packer’s lips.
“Oh God,” Ben whispered, poised to run but not
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