Entrapment-Three

"Mom! Let me in… Mom!"

"Hey there, little Walter… just a bit longer now…" With those words the coated man looked back at his final sacrifice, grinning with delight. He let out a chuckle, and then started laughing, his arms held up towards a bright light floating at the top of the room. They were here. In the womb. And if Henry Townshend did not do something, they would both die.

The brunet man glanced behind the serial killer; his expression softened a little. This was it. He could not fail this time. Cynthia, Jasper, Andrew, Richard… He could not save them, but now there was a chance.

"Henry…"

The calling of his name brought him back to the situation at hand. Almost as if on cue, Eileen Galvin began to slowly creep towards the fast spinning spiked sphere located within a vast amount of what was, most likely, human blood, in the center of the chamber.

"…You're it…" continued Walter. "The twenty-first Sacrament… The Final Sign…"

He took a few steps forward. His footsteps on the stones beneath them echoed throughout the gigantic room as he spoke, and a chill traveled down Henry's spine. "…The Receiver of Wisdom…"

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"Hey, Mister, are you okay?"

Henry Townshend let out a cough, which sent a dull throb to the front of his skull. He groaned in response to the pain. "Mister…?"

"Who…" he mumbled, hands moving to his sides to lift him from the ground, or what he presumed to be the ground, as a drop of sweat fell down his face. He opened his eyes.

He was sitting up on a sidewalk of some sort, the glow of a streetlamp covering him. The cement beneath him was rough, and he could make out the outlines of houses hidden in the surrounding darkness… or, were they houses?

"Mister?"

"What?"

Henry turned his head to his left, seeing a young girl standing beside him. It occurred to him she was who had been calling to him before… She seemed familiar, wearing a somewhat large witch outfit. Her cherry red hair curled down her shoulders and her emerald eyes bore into him.

"What… What is a little girl like you doing here…?"

Her expression contorted suddenly, as if she had been insulted. With her hands firmly against her hips, she exclaimed at him angrily, "I am not little!"

Henry blinked a few times, trying to think of how he knew this girl. He then noticed she was holding an orange plastic bag of some sort; the yellow face of a pumpkin was etched on both sides of the bag, from what he could tell.

Was she… trick-or-treating?

"Why are you staring at me like that? I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"You, uh, look like someone I know…" replied Henry as he got to his feet quickly. "Where are we, by the way?"

"You don't even know where we are…? Hmm…" The girl looked away, seemingly troubled. The streetlamp above Henry flickered, making him look up at it. The light it gave off had weakened slightly… Henry shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold.

The girl was now staring into the darkness ahead of them. She lifted her right hand to point forward. "What's wrong?" asked the brunet, inching towards her.

"Something's… coming…" she answered frightfully, backing up against him. Henry was not sure at first; he squinted and strained his ears. All was silent, aside from their breathing. He moved away from her and began ahead…

"Wait, please… Don't go… It's… not safe…" she said quietly, remaining under the blanket of light. Henry looked back at her. He flinched. There was something wrong. He had not noticed it before, but something was definitely wrong.

And then it hit him. The same, agonizing pain erupted in his head like before, only much worse. He screamed loudly, being forced to his knees as he grasped his head tightly, pulling at his hair. He literally thought his head was being torn in half by a pair of powerful, invisible hands.

But then it was over, and he fell onto the cold, hard concrete of the subway floor. He could just barely make out the sound of a subway car from afar; he was too drained to pay attention though.

His hearing had not failed him, however. His sight, although fairly blurred, showed him the car stopping beside his platform. The girl was behind him, in the exact same spot, whimpering and trying not to cry as she watched the doors slide open and the person walk out.

Henry had no idea why she was so distressed, but he felt that coldness return as the man approached his fatigued body. The brunet saw only a pair of black boots before the man grabbed his right arm roughly and yanked him up, holding him loosely by the arm.

His vision was recovering gradually, and he could see that this person was wearing a black raincoat of some sort, the hood hiding his face. He had on faded jeans as well.

"Henry…"

Did he speak? Henry could not tell… he had not heard anything, but he acknowledged the words, as if they were there.

"Henry… Henry… Henry… The last one… the Receiver… the Knowledgeable…"

Was it… Walter? Could it…

"Henry…"

No. Walter would not approach him like this.

"Henry… Henry… Henry…"

It was at that moment that Henry found the will to speak. "Who… are you?" he demanded, his voice cracked. The hold on his arm tightened, and the man smiled underneath his hood.

"The Receiver… the Knowledgeable… the last one…"

Henry felt his strength returning, as well as his senses. He was very much aware of the situation now. "Tell me…!" he hissed, but the man only continued to repeat his name, over and over.

"Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry…"

"Be quiet…"

"The Receiver… the Knowledgeable…"

"Please… just be quiet…"

"Henry… Henry… Henry… Henry…"

The brunet ground his teeth, his irritation growing with each word out of the man's mouth…

"The RECEIVER… the KNOWLEDGEABLE…"

"Just shut up!" yelled Henry suddenly as he struck at the man with his free arm, only to have it pass through him as if he was mist…

"Henry…"

"I thought something was wrong."

The man released the brunet, who stumbled backwards. He regained his composure quickly enough, just in time to turn behind him and see who had spoken.

It took him a second to recognize the man's navy coat and long, greasy blonde hair. He was sitting against the wall, on a brown, tattered blanket, his arms laid upon his knees. Walter chuckled as he stood up, glancing from the girl-who was still whimpering in fright- to Henry.

"Hmm…" He smiled and approached the other man. "Time to go, Henry."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. Now wake up."

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Henry's eyes shot open, landing on the blades of the fan above his bed. His bed. He sat up, his gaze wandering around himself. 'I'm… back in Room 302…' he thought as he pushed the sheets away and got onto his feet.

"Had a nice nap, Henry? Hopefully you've cooled down somewhat."

He looked to his left and there was Walter, standing beside his desk with that grin on his face. Henry sighed and took a seat on his bed, the springs straining under his weight. He was still for a moment before burying his head in his hand.

"Why are you… doing this to me…?"

"Doing what? I gave you your body back, for now at least, and you're still in relatively good condition."

"That's not what I mean… Why… Why couldn't you just have stayed dead?"

Walter nodded and stepped up beside him. "I wondered about that too, but there's not much sense to dwell on it now, is there?"

Henry sighed again. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That guy… the one with the raincoat on…"

"I'm… not sure what you mean."

Henry raised his head and gave Walter a confused look. "You didn't see him? You were there… weren't you?"

The blonde shrugged and left the room, leaving Henry to his thoughts. 'I saw him… I know I did… but… how did I…"

A few minutes later the doorbell rang, and Henry had no choice but to go and answer it. He saw Walter peering out of the window near the bookcase. He seemed to be greatly interested by something outside. For a second Henry felt like asking him what he was so intrigued by, but he decided against it. Whatever Walter was staring at, it did not concern him in the slightest.

He reached for the doorknob and turned it, swinging the door open. He had not even checked who it was through the peephole, which he usually did. "Um… hello, Mr. Sunderland."

The superintendent seemed to have been distracted, as he was looking over Henry's shoulder at the window. He shook it off and looked back to the tenant.

"Oh, uh, excuse me, Henry, but, uh…" He scratched his chin, thinking of what to say. "I just wanted to see if you were okay… thought I heard some funny noises coming from your room earlier."

"Noises? No… I'm fine, either way…"

"Ah, good… good… Well, um, be careful now."

"Yeah."

The brunet closed the door as Frank walked away. He leaned against it and rubbed his eyes.

"Someone entered South Ashfield Heights."

"What?"

"I said-,"

"I know what you said," Henry stated. "How long ago?"

"About two minutes; why?"

"I… I don't know…" He rushed back to the door, looking out through the peephole. He was suddenly very cold. "What was the person wearing…?" he asked while glancing back at Walter. The blonde had sat down on the couch, folding his arms.

"A raincoat, I think. Black, it was. Hmm…"

(Meh. A bit of a bland chapter, in my opinion.)