As it happened, Eileen would not find the time to explore the little path leading into the woods for another two months. Halloween Night, to be specific.
The time between that first nightmare and Halloween was busy. The nightmares lasted for a week or so, getting worse and even resulting in a few mild episodes of somnambulism before fading away and returning Eileen to her accustomed dreamless sleep. She chalked it up to stress from the move and her surroundings and mostly forgot both the dreams and the path, unless she happened to catch sight of the little trail out the window.
Mostly her time was taken up with getting used to her new classes. She had decided to drop her music major and just pursue the Psychology degree. She had planned on becoming a therapist, intending to utilize music in her therapy, but since she had learned that her Father had been a medical doctor her thoughts had turned more and more towards becoming a Psychiatrist and getting a doctorate herself. There had never seemed to be much of a difference to her between a Bachelors and a Doctorate before, but now the idea of it had taken on an almost talismanic quality.
She didn't have much trouble meeting new acquaintances in her classes; she was still attending under the name Eileen Goldman because her name change wouldn't go through for the university until the Spring semester, so no one was connecting her to her family history. But she was quiet, and not interested in the party scene on campus, so her existence in Ludlow was mostly a lonely one.
The first crack in this loneliness appeared out of the blue at the Bangor Pharmacy in early October. Her vitamin had run out again, and she was there getting them to refill it. The Pharmacist, a balding little man with huge thick glasses, beckoned her over, withholding the stapled paper bag briefly. "Miss Creed, I wanted to let you know this is your last refill. Please be sure you make an appointment to have the prescription renewed before next month." Eileen nodded absently and thanked him, reaching for the bag. The nightmares had started up again the last few days, stress from school she assumed, and she was tired and irritable and just wanted to be done with her errands.
Eileen was halfway out of the store when she realized someone was walking behind her, trying to get her attention. "Hey. Hey!" Eileen turned in surprise to see a blonde woman about her own age, grinning at her expectantly. "Ellie Creed?" she asked. She was the first person Eileen had heard say her name with something that sounded like anything but trepidation. Eileen looked at her quizzically, and before she could respond the woman followed up with another question. "Do you remember me? I'm Marie Harris, we played together when we were little!"
As if through a hazy fog Eileen faintly heard in her mind the sound of a little girl's voice piping up indignantly "Marie's Mommy lets her watch ALL the movies." She didn't remember the context, she didn't remember who she was talking to, and she didn't remember this woman standing in front of her. But it had jostled something in her mind, and that was more than she had gotten before, from anything. She smiled slowly. "Yeah. Yes, I think I do, a bit." And to her utter shock, the woman hugged her.
The child Eileen's Father had once thought of as "a malnourished, dirty little girl who always looked as if she might be on the edge of impetigo, ringworm, or perhaps even scurvy", and whom her Mother had once admitted left her with "an urge to check Ellie's head for nits and headlice" had grown up to become a buxom blonde bombshell who would not have looked out of place on the cover of Vogue or Playboy. This was not to say Eileen's parents had been incorrect in their assessments; Marie Harris was the eldest of five girls, and their parents had lost custody of all of them by the time Marie was 13. Marie had spent the last 5 years between foster homes in Bangor, Ludlow, Bucksport, Augusta, Derry, Bar Harbor, and Kittery before aging out of the system. From there she had enrolled at the University of Maine where she was pursuing an art degree and hoping to become a photographer. She had stayed local because she wanted to be able to stay in touch with her sisters. The next two oldest, 14 year old Melissa and 12 year old Michelle, were being raised by a Great Aunt in Dover. The two littlest girls, 7 year old Mallory and 5 year old Mackenzie, had been adopted by a couple in Bucksport, but the girls were all allowed to get together for one afternoon per month.
Eileen and Marie became fast friends once again. Marie was the social butterfly that Eileen desperately needed. And they both were a connection to each other's pasts that they had both lost touch with. Marie was full of stories about things she and Eileen had gotten up to, both at school and outside of it. When she came over to the old Ludlow home she was even able to point out where some artwork had been hidden by a rug in the living room, unbeknownst to Ellie. According to Marie, she and Ellie had gotten Gage to scribble there with some crayons in the hopes her Mother wouldn't let him color with them anymore, because he kept scribbling all over the pages of Ellie's favorite books.
Ellie loved the stories. They brought her time in Ludlow as a child to life like nothing else had been able to. She could see these things happening in her mind. They weren't real memories, just reconstructed approximations of what Marie purported to remember, but they were better than nothing and they were all that Ellie had.
For Marie, Ellie was a reconnection with some of the few good memories she had of her childhood. Melissa had been a toddler and Michelle a newborn when Ellie had moved back to Chicago. That had been before her Dad had gone back to prison for the second time, before Marie ended up raising herself, Melissa, and Michelle. And long before her Father had been released long enough for Mallory & Mackenzie to come along for Marie to deal with as well. Even then her home life had been shit, but Ellie had been an escape for her. Rachel & Louis had allowed her to come over to their home frequently, and it was the only time Marie remembered having real food, prior to entering Foster Care some 7 years later. Most of the other parents in Ludlow whispered and told their children to keep away from the Harris Girls because they came from a Bad Family. Ellie had made Marie less of a pariah while she had been around.
It was this need for each other that let Marie convince Ellie to join her for the annual Halloween party.
"Come on, Ellie, it'll be fun!" Marie insisted, widening her eyes to paint bold black eyeliner under them to meet the dark purple splotch that was already painted there for the finishing touches on her Vampire Seductress costume. "They've been doing this every year since like 8th grade. We tell some spooky ghost stories and local legends and drink some beer."
"I don't know…" Eileen's response was hesitant, but her tone told Marie she had already won.
"It's super chill, I promise. And if you decide you don't want to be there I'll walk you back home."
Eileen gave her a confused look. "You'll walk me home?" The houses on River Road were just about a 15 minute walk from each other they were spread out so far, and Eileen highly doubted they were going to have a party in the Dandridge's backyard.
Marie responded without looking away from the mirror. She wanted her makeup to be absolutely perfect, even if the only lighting was from a shitty campfire. Tommy Vanetti was coming to the party, and she had every intention of being the only woman there he had his eyes on. "Yeah, I'll walk you home. It's just back in the woods behind your house, down that little trail, maybe a mile or so. At the Pet Cemetery."
Eileen felt a small chill run down her back at the words Pet Cemetery, but she brushed it off. She was too interested in finding out about that secret little trail. "Oh, is that what's down the path? I haven't been down there yet, I haven't had the time to go exploring." She was quiet for a moment. "Why is there a Pet Cemetery out in the woods behind my house?" she asked.
One of Marie's shoulders went up. "I don't know. It's, like, always been there. I know my Gramps said his Dad buried a dog or a barn cat or something there when he was a kid, and the place had already been there for awhile, and that would have been in the '20s, or earlier." Then she added something she probably shouldn't have. "Plus, that road is a real bitch."
Marie's face dropped immediately and her eyes shot over to Eileen, who had not outwardly reacted to the comment, before she hastily changed the subject. She was anxious and flustered whenever anything came up about Gage's death or Route 9. "It just has a creepy vibe, perfect for Halloween and spooky stories. It's mostly just locals, never a huge crowd or anything. It's just some harmless fun, I swear."
Eileen and Marie headed down the path around 9PM. The crisp New England Autumn air was already painfully cold, and Eileen was glad her "costume" consisted of a Tigger hoodie, a pair of jeans, and sneakers. She didn't know how Marie wasn't going to freeze to death before the end of the night; her skirt barely came halfway to her knees, and she was wearing a tube top that barely came down to her navel. Eileen didn't think the long sleeve fishnet shirt she wore over the tube top or the fishnet stockings she was wearing under the skirt were going to do too much for warmth for her. She didn't think the heels were going to do Marie too many favors on the hike, either.
The trail was pitch black, and the lanterns the two girls carried didn't do much to light their way beyond a foot or two in front of them. It was a cloudy moonless night, and despite the leaves being mostly gone, the trees were still packed densely enough together to block just about any light that could have made it through. Eileen jumped every time she heard something crackle in the dead leaves off the trail, and Marie giggled at her through chattering teeth.
"You really are a city slicker, aren't you?" she asked Ellie playfully. "Nothing out there is going to hurt you, as long as you stay on the path."
Eileen stiffened. "Wh-what happens if I go off the path?" she asked anxiously.
"Bears." Marie answered with a straight face, then let out a bray of laughter. "I'm just kidding you, Ellie. Just kidding. Might be some Moose out there, really be about it. And my Gramps always said a Maine Moose will only really take after someone from Massachusetts, so you don't really need to worry there, either." This ridiculous statement got a smirk out of Ellie.
"Seriously though, you do want to stick to the trail. These woods go way, way back, and once you get five or ten feet off the trail you won't have an idea where you are anymore or what direction to go in to get back, especially in the Spring and Summer. It would be a pain even for someone who's used to it."
Eileen felt the chill creep up her spine again. She'd felt like Ludlow was damned rural since she had moved here, but had chalked that up to being a "city slicker", as Marie called it, who had spent her entire remembered life in Chicago. She couldn't even remember ever having gone camping, or on a single hike. But the idea that her little home was literally on the edge of an actual wilderness hadn't occurred to her, and she wasn't really comfortable with the idea.
There were already about twenty other people there by the time Eileen and Marie made it, illuminated by the light of several lanterns and a small campfire. The firelight danced off of circles of stone and wood markers. The clearing was separated from the trail by two wooden beams, placed vertically to either side of the trail, and an ancient rusted gate. Eileen saw with some amusement that it was purely for aesthetic; there was no fence, it was just half of a double gate that had been propped up against the foliage to the right side of the trail just before it opened up into the clearing. It must have been placed there long ago, because the trees and vines were reclaiming it, wrapping and growing around it. But hung from the gate was a wooden sign that looked like it had once been the lid to an old wooden shipping crate. Red painted letters, surprisingly fresh considering the age of both the fence and the wooden slat, were the words "Pet Sematary".
Marie pointed to the sign "It used to hang up there, across the top of the poles, like an archway, but it got knocked down a few years back when Hurricane Bob came through. A couple of us locals repainted the sign and hung it up on the gate, instead." With that she stepped past the poles and into the sematary.
Eileen didn't follow immediately. She had never been easily spooked, never afraid of the dark or things like that, but something about this place made her want to turn and run in the opposite direction. She suddenly remembered her dreams she'd had when she first moved in, and before meeting Marie, and felt a sickening certainty that if she turned around her parents would be standing there behind her, holding her brother, and all of them would be rotting bloated corpses-
"You coming, Ellie?" Marie called, turning back. She'd only made it maybe six feet into the Pet Sematary.
Marie's voice startled Eileen and she nearly ran the few feet to meet her, carrying herself past the poles. It was like crossing through a portal. There was an electric charge to the air here, the way it feels during a thunderstorm just before a lightning strike. It's a place of power. Eileen thought to herself helplessly before brushing the strange thought away and trying to regain control of herself. She didn't want the locals to think she was a freak, or a scaredy cat.
Looking around the sematary, Eileen was surprised to note that no one seemed to be being disrespectful to any of the little graves. On the contrary, it looked like several of the people who were attending had brought offerings for some of the markers. Attention was focused across the clearing, where two apparently identical boys with shaggy blonde hair, both wearing ripped jeans and open flannel shirts over band Ts, were balanced rather precariously a foot or two up a mean looking haphazard pile of fallen trees and branches.
Marie pointed to the two boys. "That's Billy & Bobby, the Buddinger Twins. Their Great Uncle was some Maine historian way back in the day, so they think they know everything about the whole damn state. They usually tell most of the stories." Marie pointed out a few more of the locals before spying Tommy Vanetti and disappearing off, promising to come back as soon as she warmed up.
Eileen sat awkwardly near the glorified campfire, next to a headstone that was apparently for a goldfish. Glancing over at Marie, she realized the lack of warm clothes had been extremely purposeful beyond just being revealing; Tommy was busy rubbing his hands all over Marie in an effort to "warm her up" while she perched on his lap. Eileen smirked slightly and rolled her eyes, mentally wishing her friend luck that she didn't look like she needed, and turned her attention to the two boys who were alternatively partially climbing the deadfall and then leap-stumbling back down.
"Everyone knows all the stories about Derry, right?" one of them was saying in an ominous tone. "All those kids who went missing, back in '84 and '85?" There were several agreeing nods and a couple audible responses of agreement. "Did you know there were a whole bunch of other murders before that all happened, back in the 50's?" This time there were fewer responses of agreement.
"Well, there were. A whole bunch of them." The other brother cut in. "There was some asshole kid who did it, and they sent him to Juniper Hills for it, because he was babbling about some fucking clown that talked to him from the moon and shit. Most folks thought he was just a loony, couple nuts short of a squirrel nest, ya know? But some folks thought, there wasn't no way a kid could do all that damage. Not on his own. He was like 10 when it all happened, maybe 12 at most. Just a little squirt. Some folks thought he must have been possessed, what with all that talk he was doing about clowns and monsters. Other folks thought he must have had an accomplice. They started talking again about that when the disappearances and murders started up again in the 80's, and old Henry Bowers was still locked away in Juniper Hills, crazy as a shithouse rat."
The first brother took over again. "But then Old Henry got loose. Supposedly he got killed by the Derry Librarian like right after he escaped, but a lot of people think that he faked it, and the real Henry is still out there, somewhere in the Maine wilderness, probably with his accomplice, just waiting for an opportunity to head back to Derry, or anywhere else in Maine, to start killing kids again."
The boy paused for dramatic effect and Eileen felt the woods pressing in around her, her ears straining for the sound of a footstep of their own freewill. She could see some of the others stirring uncomfortably around her.
The stories continued. Sometimes one of the other kids would cut in with an extra story, and the Buddinger boys would briefly yield their stage. Most of the stories were urban legends. A boy named Andy Pasioca whom Eileen recognized from one of her college classes told a story about a rabid St. Bernard that went on a rampage up in Castle Rock way back in the late 70's or early 80's and ate a bunch of folks before they finally managed to put the dog down. According to Andy, one of the folks the dog ate was a cousin on his Mother's side, and that was how he knew the story.
"At least 7 or 8 people before they managed to put him down! Maybe even as many as 10!" the lanky boy with colorless hair insisted before sitting back down.
Eileen's attention started to drift as the stories became more and more outrageous, now someone was telling a story about how a friend of a friend of a friend died because they ate Pop Rocks and drank a pop at the same time. Looking around, she realized the number of people sitting around the sematary was at least 30 now. Some of them she recognized from college, but some of them couldn't have been out of high school, and a few looked like they might not have even made it there yet. Eileen was drawn back into the stories when someone called out "Billy, tell about that old Burial Ground out in the woods."
The twin wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt under his flannel stood up, grinning. He looked like he had been waiting all night for this particular request. "I thought you'd never ask!" he addressed the group, and there was a scattering of chuckles. Eileen could feel the energy changing. This was the story everyone came to hear, clearly. The rest had just been appetizers; this was the Main Course.
Bobby Buddinger stumbled down from the bleached wood of the deadfall, very nearly falling on his face when his Nirvana T-shirt caught on a jagged branch, and his brother climbed up to take his place. Billy waited patiently until every face in the clearing was fixed on him, the flames from the campfire dancing shadows mysteriously across his own face. When he spoke it was a bit softer than before, and slower, and Eileen had to strain to hear his words over the thin whistle of wind that blew through the trees.
"All of us who grew up in Ludlow knows about the story…" Billy started, his voice barely above a whisper. "That this place, here, isn't the real burial ground. The real burial ground, is out there." He gestured above and behind himself, beyond the deadfall. "No one I know of knows exactly where it is, but some of the old Ludlow natives could still tell you, if you needed to know bad enough."
"Or if you got them skunked enough!" a voice called out from amongst the markers, and a nervous giggle echoed around the sematary briefly. Billy waved them to be quiet after a moment, looking mildly annoyed at the interruption.
"Ayuh, you could try and get 'em drunk to tell ya, sure. But you couldn't get most of them that drunk. They'd be flat over the bay before they'd think to take you out in them woods, most of them." There were no giggles now, and Eileen realized with a quiet sense of horror that the people around her, adults the vast lot of them, were actually genuinely afraid of whatever this story was. She could almost smell the tang of fear in the air around her.
Billy paused for a moment before he continued. "Some people say that the Micmac Tribe were the ones who made the burial ground. Other folks say it was there way before that, and the Micmacs just kind of, stumbled on to it. But what everyone agrees with is that the Micmacs were the ones who let the colonists in on the secret of the place, starting with the French trappers back at least as far as the 1700's. Some folk think the natives thought they were doing a good thing, and that the ground didn't go bad until later on, maybe even because they shared their secret with someone who was foolish enough to not use it right or something. But most folks think that ground was never right to begin with, that, doing what it does, there couldn't have been a time when it wasn't curdled and plain wrong. Those folks think the Micmac told about the ground for the same reason everyone else has through the years. They told because that's what that Place wants you to do. The Place wants to be shared, and passed on down the line, and it gets inside your head once you've been out there. And you might know better one day, you might know you shouldn't speak about it, shouldn't ever go there, not for any reason. But then the next day something comes up and you just convince yourself with all the logic in the world that you have to tell somebody about the Place, that you need to take them out there." Billy paused again briefly. "And you do it because you want to do it. Because that Place out there is a secret, and that's how folks are with secrets. They don't go telling everyone they meet, but when the time is right, with the right person, they'll loosen their tongues right up."
Bobby Buddinger took over the story with almost no transition necessary, his tone and cadence were so similar to his twin. "It's the animals. Pets. We all heard the stories growing up. Someone's dog got into some rat bait, or someone's cat ran out the road at the wrong time. Lester Morgan's bull got sick. You would hear that someone's animal was dead from something, and that they had to bring it on up here, to the Pet Sematary. But you always knew when something was funny going on. When someone would be more upset than usual, like when Old Lady Lavesque, who never got married and didn't have a soul in this world apart from her neighbors who checked in on her now and then, lost her Chow. They'd be fit to lose their minds, and then all of a sudden they'd button right up. You always know when that happens, around here, that their pet is gonna show back up in a day or two."
Eileen suddenly looked around in startled wonderment. This was the story that these people, these grown adults all around her, were terrified of? This? This was ridiculous! These people could not possibly believe… But looking around at their faces she saw it was true. There were nervous smirks here and there, but most of the people sitting around her in this Pet Sematary absolutely believed there was at least the possibility of some veracity to this tale.
A quiet voice spoke up from the back of the group. "It is true. I saw the beagle Johnny and Mikey Collins used to keep for rabbit hunting. Spud." The voice shuddered when the dog's name was spoken, almost as though they were afraid just saying the name might summon it. There were a few murmurs of agreement; this was a more recent story and many of those present had some personal experience with it. "Someone shot it up, probably by accident while hunting the woods, back in '89 or '90. But it drug itself back to their yard during the night and they found it the next morning. I saw it myself." The disembodied voice cracked slightly with fear. "It was dead. All covered in blood, and stiff. Like it was taxidermied. Mikey had heard about the Place and wanted to try it out. Spud was back two days later. You could see the places where she was shot were all healed over, white fur grown back in over them where it used to be black and brown."
"That dog was weird after that." Another voice chimed in. "Real weird. She was smart as a whip before, knew all these tricks, right? After, she could barely run in a straight line without falling over. You'd throw her a treat and it would hit her between the eyes and she'd take ten minutes to find it. And she was the nicest dog before, too, but after she would get to staring at you, and you could just feel she wanted to bite you. Like she would have ripped your throat right out if she could."
A third person chimed in from across the clearing. "She wasn't no good for hunting after that, either. She would tear those bunnies to shreds. Before that she was one of the best rabbit dogs in the whole state."
The first boy to mention the story finished it up. "Johnny had nightmares something awful after that. His Mom ended up packing him and Mikey up and moving out the state a few months after. I don't think she could stand being near that dog anymore. Their Dad shot Spud dead again a while later. Then himself." You could have heard a pin drop. The only sound at all was the wind. "A few of us took and buried Spud here, in the sematary, afterwards."
There was a brief moment of contemplative silence, and Eileen wasn't entirely sure if it was for Mr. Collins or his beagle. Then Billy Buddinger took up the story once again.
"It's the animals that get buried out there. Mostly. But a place like that, with that kind of power…" Billy trailed off. "There was a World War II soldier who got buried out there, back in the '40s. He died in action, I forget where, storming the beach in Normandy, maybe. His name was Baterman. He was the only child of a widower who never remarried, and I guess Mr. Baterman figured he just didn't have anything to lose by trying the Place out with his son. He already lost everything he could, anyway. Folks knew the Batermans, and they knew the Baterman boy had died serving his country, so folks were scared out of their mind when they started seeing him walking up and down the road in front of the Baterman home, his Daddy watching him from the porch, smoking like a chimney and drinking like a fish. Story goes that things went on like that for a week or more. Some Old Ludlow Boys went out and had a talk with Baterman Senior, and they came back refusing to say a word about what went down at the Old Baterman Place, just telling people to stay well away from there if they knew what was good for them. It ended less than a week after that visit, anyway. The Baterman home burned down, nothing left at all, with both Father and Son inside. Someone splashed the whole house in range oil and lit it up. But before it burned, both Batermans had been shot dead. Most folks around here assumed Baterman Senior realized his mistake in using that Place to bring his son back, and decided to remedy it how he could. But me, I kind of wonder if some of the Ludlow folks didn't get together to fix the problem Mr. Baterman created before it got completely out of hand."
Bobby took back over the reins of the story, pacing in front of the deadfall now "Years after there was some whispering that got out, saying that Old Mr. Baterman had completely lost his mind by the time of that visit from some of the Ludlow men. And there were also plenty of whispers about his boy. About how whatever had come back from that Place out there in the woods wasn't the same boy who had gone off to fight in Europe. Whatever was walking back and forth in front of the Baterman place looked like him, but it wasn't him. It was, something else, something that was kind of like, wearing him. Like a set of clothes, or a mask. Something dark. Something evil, that could look right into a person's heart and see whatever darkness was there looking back. A lot of people around here think that whatever was wearing the Baterman Boy is the same thing that wears whatever animals get put up there, and that's why the animals come back wrong. But it's more obvious with a person. A lot of folks around here think that whatever it is can look into the heart of a place, too, not just the hearts of people. They think the more people that know about that Place and use it, the more powerful it will get, and the more it will rot the entire town and start spreading out its influence. Maybe even spread the ground that's soured, and brings things back…" Bobby let this idea settle in. "Imagine if that, power, or whatever it is. Corruption, maybe. Imagine if it made it all the way to Mount Hope Cemetery, out in Bangor." He let out a sound like a mirthless chuckle. "It would be like Return of the Living Dead out here."
Billy continued the tale once again "A lot of people think that the Place don't just bring things back from the dead, either. They said the Baterman boy knew all sorts of things, and he used that knowledge to get people whipped up. Angry. Domestic violence and murders spiked up in the months after. Feuding between neighbors. Accidents, too. It's a Bad Place, and it likes to see people do bad things. It likes to see bad things happen. And maybe it likes to make bad things happen, too. Like what happened up on that road out there a few years back." This time Billy gestured back in the direction they had all come from, up the path. "The Baterman boy wasn't the last person someone buried out there at that Place. The last time was only a few years back." Billy looked back and forth across the sematary. "We're mostly all old enough here to remember what happened back in '84, with Old Doc Creed and his son."
Eileen felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head and into her veins at those words. She wished that the shock would block out the words continuing to be spoken, that her pounding heart would drown out their sound, that she could just jump up and flee back down the path, far away from these crazy people who believed that the dead could be brought back, albeit evil, if they were just buried in the right spot, these horrible people who took the hideous death of a toddler only a decade earlier, and the destruction of an entire family, and turned it into a local legend to be told for fun on Halloween Night, while surrounded by a century or more worth of dead pets. She wanted to run, run and not look back, run until she reached the airport and could get back to Chicago, far away from the insanity that was Ludlow and all of the people in it. But she remained rooted in place, staring blankly, as the story was recounted in horrifyingly gruesome detail. Marie, busy making out hardcore with Tommy in the brush, was not paying the least bit of attention to the stories anymore.
"Doc Creed wasn't a local, but the old guy across the street was. Jud Crandall. Most of us knew him in passing, him and his wife. They used to give out good stuff for Halloween, real nice people. But Mr. Crandall was born and raised in Ludlow, and the story goes that he buried a dog at the Place out in the woods when he was a boy. And like most people, he would share the secret, now and then, when it seemed right. Some people think he just told the Doc the story, but I don't think so, myself. Not considering what ended up happening. I think he took the Doc out there to bury an animal first, and that's how the Doc found out. I don't think nobody would believe enough just hearing about the place to take a person out there. They would have to know it works, first. But anyway, we all remember what happened. Doc Creed had a son, a toddler, who got killed on Route 9. Doc and his wife weren't watching close enough, and the poor kid got smeared all down Route 9 by an oil tanker. Right out in front of the house out there, right in front of the whole family, the length of a football field. We're all gonna pass right along where he died on our way home tonight. Hell of a mess, a tragedy, and it made the Doc and his wife crazy with grief. But Doc Creed knew about the Place, and I think the Place knew about him, too. I think maybe the Place made that kid real interested in something in that road, or across the street, and made sure his Mom and Dad weren't looking at just the right time. But anyway, they buried the kid in Mount Hope, than the Doc sends his wife and daughter back to Chicago with his in-laws, and he goes and digs up the kid, and puts him up there in the Place-"
That, finally, was enough for Eileen. Recounting the gruesome details of Gage's death had been horrifying enough, but the idea of her Father grave-robbing his tiny corpse in the middle of the night was too much for her. With a thin shriek she shot up from the ground and ran out of the Pet Sematary, back down the path. She didn't even realize she was sobbing as she ran, all she wanted was to be away from all of those people and their awful stories.
The shriek was enough to get Marie's attention again, and she realized almost immediately what must have happened when she saw Ellie disappearing down the path in tears, with everyone staring after her, startled. "Ohhhhh, shit!" Marie muttered, adjusting her clothes as she started after her.
"Marie?" one of the Buddingers called after her uncertainly as she started down the path. They had never had anyone freak out like that during the stories, not even when they had mostly been middle schoolers and high schoolers.
"That was Ellie Creed!" Marie called back over her shoulder as she disappeared down the path. She called after Ellie as she ran, hearing her running and crying ahead of her, but didn't catch up with Ellie until she was ¾ of the way back down the path, and then she almost tripped over her.
Eileen had tripped on a raised root and not bothered to get back up, and was instead sitting sniffling off to the side of the path, head in her arms. She felt miserable, angry that her family's misfortune was entertainment fodder for these people, embarrassed at her outburst, and betrayed by Marie.
"Ellie! Ellie, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Marie asked, dropping down beside her.
Eileen refused to raise her head to look at her, and instead muttered into her arms "Is it true? Did you know?" The words were dull and muffled, but clear enough.
"Ellie, they're just stupid stories. I'm so sorry, I should have known better. They don't always tell that one, but I should have told them to make sure they didn't tell it this year at least-" She put her arm around Ellie's shoulders, but Ellie stiffened in response. "Ellie, I'm really, really sorry."
Eileen raised her head, and her eyes were angry and reproachful. "Is my brother's death just fun for you all? And my parents? Three people died, horribly! And you all just make up stupid stories about it?"
Marie looked down in shame. "No! Of course not, it isn't like that… I, we, I don't think any of us have ever thought about it like that." she finished softly, almost thoughtfully.
"Did any of you ever stop and think about it at all?" Eileen snapped. Marie looked back up at her, and Eileen was surprised to see that her eyes were wet, with a line of mascara running down her left cheek.
Marie shook her head. "No, I don't think anyone did stop to think about it. There wasn't anyone here to hurt with it, and we were little kids when the stories started. I don't think anyone stopped to think we were talking about real, actual people, who didn't even die very long ago." Marie was quiet for a moment. "Most of them never even met your parents or your brother. I did, and I didn't even really connect the stories with the actual people." She said softly. "I'm sorry, Ellie. You're right. The stories are, awful. Absolutely awful."
Eileen looked away and didn't respond, but she was slightly less stiff. She finally looked back. "But why would you all start making up stories like that? That my Dad dug up my brother and buried him up in the woods…?" Marie averted her eyes briefly, and Eileen caught the movement immediately. "What aren't you telling me?"
Marie bit her lip slightly. "I'm sorry, Ellie, I really didn't want to tell you…"
"Tell me what?" Eileen practically shrieked. "What didn't you want to tell me?"
Marie swallowed hard, then forced the story out. "I'm sorry, Ellie, but your Dad did dig your brother up." Ellie stared at her in stunned silence, and Marie continued on before she lost her nerve. "He sent you and your Mom to Chicago, and he must have had a nervous breakdown or something, and he must have heard the stories from that old guy across the street. Nobody knows what exactly happened, but the story is that the old guy called your Mom and told her your Dad wasn't acting right so she came home, or she just knew he wasn't acting right and came home, or something. But her and the old guy must have caught your Dad with Gage's body because the old guy's house burned down and they found all of them, including your brother, inside. Nobody knows if they tried to have an intervention and your Dad freaked out and the fire started accidentally or what, but that's what happened as far as I know, and that's why there are stories."
Eileen sat in frozen silence. It suddenly made a horrible sort of sense, all of it. The townspeople were uncomfortable with her because her Father had been insane, and they wondered if she was going to crack too. They wondered if he had lit the fire and killed himself, his wife, and his neighbor, rather than it being an accident. What else would really explain none of them being able to get out of the house, considering none of them would have been asleep? They wondered if his daughter had the same insane murderous propensities. And her Grandparents. Why they never discussed her parent's death, why they hated and blamed her Father. Maybe Gage's death had really been just an accident, albeit a neglectful one, but not their daughter's death. That had been completely preventable, and completely on Louis, no matter what exactly had happened.
"Ellie?" Marie asked hesitantly. "Are you alright?" When she didn't answer, Marie hugged her again, and this time she didn't fight it. "I'm so sorry… You shouldn't have to know about that, about any of that. I didn't want to tell you, and then it came up like this…" Marie stood up abruptly. "Come on, Ellie. You can't stay out here all night. Let me take you home." She paused briefly. "I'll get you settled in, and if you don't want to talk to me anymore I get it, trust me I do. But let me take you home first."
Eileen stood up wordlessly. The effort of walking the rest of the way home suddenly seemed impossible. There was a weariness that went all the way to her bones. She longed to curl up in the leaves along the trail and sleep. She followed Marie at a slow pace, stumbling along. It seemed impossibly cold now, more like January than October.
By the time they reached the head of the trail some of the kids were catching up with them, between their slow pace and the brief conversation they'd had. Most of them averted their eyes and mumbled in passing, nervous and embarrassed. The Buddinger boys paused long enough to offer brief sheepish apologies before heading off to their old beater parked down the road.
The girls made it to the front door before Tommy slipped up to them out of the shadows. "Hey, Marie, you coming back to my place?" he asked, not giving Eileen a glance. His body language and tone suggested he was very put out by the interruption back in the sematary.
Marie walked back down the steps to him. "I'm sorry, Tommy, but not tonight. I have to make sure Ellie is alright. Raincheck?"
"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself." he said, the annoyance in his voice even clearer now. "I mean, what are you, her Mom?"
Eileen stiffened at the mention of her Mother, and Marie frowned. "You know what, Tommy, cancel that raincheck. Why don't you and your right hand go spend some quality time together?"
Tommy was livid. "You fucking cocktease Bitch." he said without raising his voice, and he spit in Marie's face before turning and walking towards his car, leaving her too surprised to react. He wrenched his car door open with a loud rusty squeak before screaming "Fucking Rug Muncher!" into the cold and quiet night. Eileen flinched at the scream. She had never been around someone who acted like that before. The car door slammed and the car roared into the night with a squeal, the speed a chilling reminder of why exactly this night was ending as it was.
Marie watched the car drive down the street, wiping his spit off her face before turning to Eileen with a very natural forced smile. Her childhood had taught her to mask her emotions well. "Definitely dodged a bullet there, so thanks for that."
Eileen got herself upstairs and changed in a thoughtless daze, and Marie brought her a glass of water and tucked her under the covers.
"Are you alright?" Marie asked uncertainly, and Eileen nodded slowly with her eyes closed. She just wanted this horrible night to end.
"I'm so sorry, Ellie…" Marie said again, trailing off. "Call me when you're ready, if you want to." she said softly, and stood to leave.
Eileen's hand shot out from under the covers and grasped Marie's forearm. Her eyes were wide and fearful. She could only imagine the dreams she would probably have tonight. "Don't go. Please. Stay here with me. Just for tonight."
The look on Ellie's face disturbed Marie. It had a haunted quality to it that she had seen on the faces of a couple of the kids she had been in foster homes with, and she had seen it in the mirror before. She knew what it was to be alone and frightened. As much as she didn't want to be in this house overnight that seemed so haunted by the memories of the departed Creeds, and so close to the woods whose stories she couldn't quite disbelieve, she couldn't bring herself to say no.
"Okay, Ellie. I'll stay."