The house was completely quiet, save for the soft murmurs and snores of the inhabitants fast asleep, the chirp of crickets, and the light whooshing sound of the water coming up onto the small beach. The moon hung overhead brightly shining down upon the house, illuminating it in light.
Joey looked over at his nightstand and saw the red numbers flip over to 12:00. He tapped the alarm before it could go off and sat up. He reached under his bed and grabbed the rifle he had stashed there earlier and checked to make sure it was loaded. He snapped the rifle shut when he confirmed it was and quickly exited the room.
Lance met him in the hallway, a Bible and a single lit candlestick in his hands. He nodded silently and they made their way to JC and Justin�s room. Lance stood at the doorway and nodded. Without a second look Joey turned the knob and swung the door open fiercely causing it to bounce off the wall in a loud boom.
JC and Justin jumped at the noise and looked toward the door. Justin squeaked when he saw Lance and Joey standing in the shadows, the small flicker of the candle making Lance�s eyes glow. Joey cocked the rifle and aimed it right at Justin, causing him to slide back against the headboard of his bed and curl up into a fetal position, small whimpers escaping his mouth.
�Joey!� shouted JC, as he stood from his bed. �What�s going on?�
�Shut up!� bellowed Lance. He motioned with his Bible and Joey stepped closer to Justin�s bed. �Ask questions and he dies.�
JC�s eyes widened and he snapped his mouth shut, knowing that he was, indeed, awake and that Lance was dead serious.
�Get up and come out into the hallway and don�t ask any questions,� ordered Lance.
JC got up and quickly ushered Justin out of his bed, keeping him on the side away from Lance and Joey, and put his arm around his shoulder comfortingly. Justin clung to JC like a drowning man clung to a life raft and followed him out into the hallway.
�Walk,� commanded Lance.�
�Where are we go�� started JC.
�I said no questions!� bellowed Lance. Before JC could even blink, Lance�s hand shot out and struck him across the cheek. JC grabbed at his cheek in bewilderment and looked at Lance awestruck.
Joey poked the rifle into JC�s back and he walked towards the stairs, not knowing if he was going the right way or not. Next to him Justin started crying, soft whimpers and cries escaping his lips.
�Shut him up or I�ll have Joey do it for you,� exclaimed Lance.
JC glared over his shoulder at Lance as they walked down the stairs but complied. When they reached the bottom of the stairs Lance commanded them to stop as Joey snatched Chris up from the couch like a rag doll. Chris yelped and looked around in surprise. When he saw the rifle in Joey�s other hand he opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it when JC shot him a look of warning.
Quietly Chris, JC, and Justin were directed into the kitchen and down the stairs into the basement as Joey followed close behind with the rifle aimed. Lance trailed behind.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs they were pushed into kneeling positions onto the cement floor. Candles were lit all over the room and a small altar containing a picture of the Holy Mother, a crucifix, and some Rosary beads had been made directly in front of a small musicians stand meant as a podium.
Joey stood off to the side, rifle aimed and silent. Lance walked to the podium and pulled it to a sufficient height and placed his Bible atop it. �Do you know why I brought you here?� They just kneeled there silently. �You�ve been brought here because you�re sinners and sinners must pray for forgiveness.�
JC stared at Lance and stole a look out of the corner of his eye at Joey who was still stood at the bottom of the stairs with the rifle aimed at them. He glanced around the room, looking for a way out and found none. They were trapped. The only way out was through Joey and he had a hundred pounds on him, not to mention he was holding a fully loaded firearm.
Justin whimpered next to him and JC hushed him before Lance could take notice. He looked desperately at Chris who sat with his leg twisted in an uncomfortable position and his eyes squeezed tight because of the pain.
�Lance�� tried JC calmly. �Lance, this isn�t you.�
Lance stopped reading from his Bible and smiled, almost condescendingly. �Of course it�s me, Josh.�
Josh, thought JC. No one but his mother called him Josh anymore and that was when he was in deep trouble. The only person who had called him Josh was�
�Mrs. Dafoe!� called out JC desperately. �Mrs. Dafoe, I know you can hear me. Please, help us!�
Lance froze and JC heard a bitter laugh echo through the murky basement. JC looked around and saw nothing. He stood and walked over to Joey, who had frozen as well, and poked him. Joey made no movement and JC turned around to check on Chris and Justin. They were locked in place as well.
When he heard another laugh, this time clearer, he whirled around to find him face to face with Mrs. Dafoe, who stood next to Lance.
�What�s going on?� asked JC, a shocked expression on his face.
�Help,� repeated Mrs. Dafoe. She laughed bitterly once again. �You want me to help you?�
�You did once before.�
�Silly na�ve little boy, I wasn�t helping you,� she exclaimed, a devious smirk set upon her lips. �I was merely gaining your trust so that you would insist upon staying here so that you could help poor, little, defenseless me.�
�You�you warned me to leave. You wanted to help,� stuttered JC, completely confused.
�That was all a ploy to get you to trust me and it worked like a charm,� she sneered. She circled Lance and ran a hand through his arm as she said, �Such easy people to manipulate. It didn�t take my family more than a day to get inside of them. So weak and so much fun to watch be overtaken.�
She walked over to Joey and whispered in his ear. He quickly came to life and aimed the rifle at JC and fired over his shoulder. JC ducked and covered his ears as the bullet hit the wall and caused shatters of cement to fly out. Mrs. Dafoe laughed gleefully and Joey became still again.
�Why are you doing this?� questioned JC desperately, still in his crouching position.
Mrs. Dafoe glared at JC and quickly began pacing the room. �My family suffered years under the harsh ruling of my husband. He beat us whenever he felt we needed a reminder of who was boss. My children grew up in a house of fear. My own son was driven mad.�
�Butch,� offered JC.
�He was my pride and joy. My first born son,� she said, sniffling slightly. �He was to grow up into a great man to make me proud.� She looked at JC and snarled, �But my husband saw to it otherwise. He beat and tore down his own son for his own vindictive pleasure. He enjoyed making us cower. He killed us!�
�Butch killed you,� argued JC.
�NO!� she shouted. �My husband drove my son mad. My poor, little boy didn�t know any better. It was all my bastard of a husband�s fault for making my little boy suffer. My husband killed us, not my son.� She paced back and forth, her anger brewing. �Then you,� she spat out the word disgustingly, �you had to come here and disrupt our resting place. You couldn�t just leave us alone, you just had to come and mock my poor family.�
�We meant no harm, I promise,� exclaimed JC softly.
�Liar!� she growled. She pointed to Chris and said, �That one insisted on snooping through my home, my family�s resting place, for his own sick pleasure.�
�Please, just let us go. We�ll leave and never come back,� pleaded JC.
�If I let you go, more will come. They�ll come eventually,� she replied. She glared at JC. �Your kind will never leave us alone to rest in this�this�purgatory!�
�What will killing us do,� he reasoned.
She paused for a moment before replying simply, �Nothing.�
�Then let us go!�
�My family suffered and someone has to pay for it. It may as well be you and your nosy friends.�
�But what about our families? All of us have parents and siblings that care for us. That�s five families that you�d ruin with your hatred,� rationalized JC quickly. �Hell, Joe�s girlfriend is pregnant. He�s going to be a father soon. Would you deny a child their father?�
�Why should I care about them?� asked Mrs. Dafoe, her voice shaky with emotion. �Or you for that matter? The people who come to my home and disrupt our resting place don�t have sympathy for us. Why should I have sympathy for them?�
�Why are you stuck here?� argued JC. �You and your family have been trapped in this house for years. Maybe it�s your hatred that keeps you locked here, have you ever thought of that?�
�Me?� she repeated softly. �It�s my fault my family is stuck here?�
�Your anger keeps you from moving on,� exclaimed JC. He stood up and walked over until he was in front of her. �Maybe if you let it go, you and your family will be able to move on.�
�Perhaps you�re right,� she mused. �I�ll let you and your friends go�but if I�m still stuck here and someone comes around I cannot promise I will let them go.�
Before JC could say anything else she disappeared. He heard a soft groan to his right and turned to see Chris sitting up, rubbing his head. �Where am I?�
�The basement,� JC replied.
�What the fuck am I down here for?� demanded Chris gruffly.
�It�s a long story,� JC answered. He went over and helped Chris stand to his feet and supported his weak side.
Justin, Lance, and Joey came to seconds later, claiming headaches and demanding to know what was happening. JC said he would explain later as he ushered them upstairs and out into the car. Without packing any of their belongings he started the van and backed down the driveway.
�Where are we going?� questioned Justin from the backseat. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily and yawned. �How come we�re not taking our stuff?�
�JC, what happened there?� asked Lance.
JC looked up at the windows on each side of the chimney that resembled eyes. �Some people finally got the rest they deserved.�
Without another word he put the car in gear and drove down the street. He turned the corner and left 112 Ocean Drive never to return again.
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