The Town of Griswold (Berkley Street Series Book 3) Read online

  The Town of Griswold

  Written by Ron Ripley

  Edited by Emma Salam and Lance Piao

  Copyright © 2016 by ScareStreet.com

  All rights reserved.

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  Keeping it spooky,

  Ron Ripley

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Looking for a Place to ‘Shine

  Chapter 2: At Berkley Street

  Chapter 3: Waiting on Jimmy

  Chapter 4: Jimmy’s Late Again

  Chapter 5: In the Diner

  Chapter 6: Trying to Hide

  Chapter 7: The Ghost Town

  Chapter 8: Jimmy and the Girl

  Chapter 9: With the Boy and the Dog

  Chapter 10: College Kids

  Chapter 11: Trooper Glenn

  Chapter 12: In the House of Latham

  Chapter 13: Waiting for the Rain’s End

  Chapter 14: Awoken in Church

  Chapter 15: Jimmy Leaves

  Chapter 16: In the Darkness of the Church

  Chapter 17: The Storm

  Chapter 18: Gordon Bay, Griswold, August 1st, 1975

  Chapter 19: Waiting for Andrew

  Chapter 20: Gordon and the Church, August 1st, 1975

  Chapter 21: Trooper Martini

  Chapter 22: Meeting Andrew’s Sister, August 1st, 1975

  Chapter 23: Meeting Again

  Chapter 24: The Interrogation

  Chapter 25: Running, August 2nd, 1975

  Chapter 26: Courtney and Trooper Martini

  Chapter 27: A Chance Meeting, August 2nd, 1975

  Chapter 28: Martini Leaves the Room

  Chapter 29: Free to Go

  Chapter 30: Gordon Entertains

  Chapter 31: Home on Berkley Street

  Chapter 32: Investigating the Unexplained

  Chapter 33: Talking about Griswold

  Chapter 34: Uninvited Guests

  Chapter 35: Looking for Help

  Chapter 36: In Bad Company

  Chapter 37: At the Crematorium

  Chapter 38: Brainstorming

  Chapter 39: Looking for a Thrill

  Chapter 40: Desperately Seeking Safety

  Chapter 41: Moving through Darkness

  Chapter 42: The Decision Made

  Chapter 43: An Unexpected Situation

  Chapter 44: A Little White Lie

  Chapter 45: The Rain Arrives

  Chapter 46: Trying to Escape

  Chapter 47: Escaping Griswold

  Chapter 48: On the Beach

  Chapter 49: Out for a Walk

  Chapter 50: In the Early Hours

  Chapter 51: Back into Griswold

  Chapter 52: Courtney Returns

  Chapter 53: Looking for Shane

  Chapter 54: Things Best Left Covered

  Chapter 55: Going into Griswold

  Chapter 56: Pay Dirt

  Chapter 57: A Storm Arrives

  Chapter 58: Abel Latham’s Friend

  Chapter 59: In a Nightmare Once More

  Chapter 60: Desperation

  Chapter 61: A Bad Shot

  Chapter 62: Returned from the Grave

  Chapter 63: Burning Down the Dead

  Chapter 64: Going Home Again

  Bonus Scene Chapter 1: Vanished, October 20, 1919

  Bonus Scene Chapter 2: Adam Comes to Visit

  Bonus Scene Chapter 3: Bearing Bad News

  Bonus Scene Chapter 4: Looking for Louisa

  Bonus Scene Chapter 5: Help from Napoleon

  Bonus Scene Chapter 6: Finding Louisa Hoeffler

  Chapter 1: Looking for a Place to ‘Shine

  John and Jimmy Quill drove along Route 111. They had ‘Irish-ed’ up their coffee with a good dose of bad whiskey, and they were feeling fine as the sun rose. John steered with one hand, held his travel mug with the other, and kept watch on his side of the road. Jimmy, younger by two years, examined everything which passed by on the passenger side.

  “John,” Jimmy said, breaking the silence.

  “What’s up?”

  “On the right, about two hundred feet, slow down,” Jimmy said, rolling down his window to get a better look.

  John pulled off onto the shoulder, came to a stop. A narrow road, the pavement cracked and in desperate need of repair, turned off and into the shadows. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t know,” Jimmy answered.

  John watched as his brother pulled out his phone, punched in their position, and waited to see what results showed up. With a flick of his wrist, John put on the hazard lights and kept an eye on the mirrors, making sure no cops showed up to ask what he and Jimmy were up to.

  After several minutes, when John was finally feeling a buzz from the whiskey, Jimmy said, “Here it is, bro. Place called Griswold. Used to be a lumber town. Shut down sometime in the thirties.”

  “What’s there?” John asked, peering down the tree-lined road which led into darkness.

  “Couple of buildings, maybe. Cellar holes. An old church,” Jimmy replied. Holding the phone out, he said, “Here, take a look.”

  John took it and looked at the crisp, black-and-white image on the screen. A clapboard church, a good-sized building, was the dominant feature in a town.

  “That church,” John said, grinning at his brother, “that church looks perfect.”

  Jimmy nodded, smiling. “Yeah, it sure as hell does.”

  John took his foot off the brake, made sure no one was coming up on them and pulled wide into the street before he cut hard to the right.

  The street leading into Griswold was a mess. Every few feet John’s old, restored Dodge pickup bounced along. John winced with every bump and thud.

  Damn, he thought, I sure as hell better not break a damned spring.

  Tree limbs slapped at the sides and the windows, but John continued to push on. The world consisted of nothing more than broken asphalt and the crowded road.

  Then the forest opened up around them, and the town of Griswold appeared. Two buildings stood tall: the church, and a long but low structure with a faded sign that proclaimed it to be the Griswold Country Store. The remains of a few other buildings stood on either side of the narrow street, and empty plots stood close by. Hints of other roads branched off through the forest, which had encroached on the town. Young trees, no more than twenty or thirty years old by their size, were along both sides near the back.

  “We could do it here,” Jimmy said, looking around.

  John nodded his agreement. “For a while at least. Eventually, they’ll figure it out.”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said, sighing. “They always do. But it might take a little longer here.”

  “Will you be able to get the Chinaski brothers to help?” John asked. “They’ve got access to the college’s trucks, right?”

  “Yeah,” Jimmy said. “Both of them still owe me for the bet they lost on the last Red Sox game. I’ll tell them I’ll get rid of the bet and the interest.”

  “Sounds good,” John said. “We’ll have to come back and check it out before we set up, though. Make sure nobody’s squatting here.”

  Jimmy nodded his agreement as John started to t
urn the truck around. It took a few tries in the tight confines of the overgrown street, but he managed. As he pointed the truck back the way they had come, he looked in the rearview and almost hit the brakes.

  For a second John thought he had seen a young woman by the church.

  Probably a deer, he told himself, shaking his head. John pushed the thought out of his mind and guided the truck back towards Route 111.

  Just a deer.

  Chapter 2: At Berkley Street

  The doorbell rang, and Shane stepped out into the hallway. He looked around and said, “I’m serious. Best behavior.” When no response was forthcoming, he walked to the main door and opened it.

  Courtney DeSantis stood on the front step. She was stunning in a pair of jeans and a light gray sweatshirt, well-traveled hiking boots on her feet and a pack slung over her right shoulder. She brushed a strand of dark purple, almost black hair out of her eyes and smiled at Shane.

  Shane grinned back at her, stepping aside and saying, “Come on in.”

  She did so, eyes darting from left to right. “Wow. This is a big place.”

  Shane nodded as he closed the door. “You like it?”

  “I do,” Courtney said, turning around and kissing him swiftly on the cheek. “I like you, too.”

  Shane felt his face heat up and thought, -What the hell, it’s like I’m fourteen all over again.

  She saw his expression and laughed. “You’re too damned cute, Shane.”

  Shane chuckled. “I’ve been called a lot of things, doll, but never cute.”

  “Good,” she said happily. Courtney shivered slightly and said, “Are there a lot of ghosts here?”

  “A few,” Shane said.

  “Want to give me the tour later on, once we get back?” she asked.

  “I’d love to,” Shane said. “You sure you’re okay with that?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “After Squirrel Island? Yeah, I’m okay with your house.”

  “Good,” Shane said.

  “You need to pack or anything?” Courtney asked.

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head. He gestured to the corner by the main door. His old backpack was on the floor, filled with the few items necessary for a day trip up into the North Country. “Already took care of the packing this morning.”

  “Nice,” she said, smiling. “So, want to know where we’re headed?”

  “Yes,” Shane said, grinning. “I thought it might be nice to know.”

  She punched him playfully in the arm. “Place called Griswold. Ever heard of it?”

  “No,” Shane said, grabbing his backpack. “Small town?”

  “Small and unoccupied,” Courtney said. “It’s a New England ghost town.”

  “Sounds good,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to a ghost town before.”

  “Then it’s an adventure,” she said, winking. “So, ready to go?”

  “Yup,” Shane said, nodding.

  “Great!” she yelled, stepping forward and kissing him again. “Let’s go!”

  Shane grinned foolishly, shook his head, and opened the door.

  Chapter 3: Waiting on Jimmy

  Three days after John and Jimmy had decided the ghost town was the place to set up their distillery, John was in front of the abandoned general store. He sat on the lowered tailgate of the pickup, some of his camping gear scattered about the bed and his rifle across his legs. The weapon was broken down, and he had taken a short break from cleaning it. He glanced at his watch, saw Jimmy was twenty minutes late, and shook his head angrily.

  John picked up his phone and called his brother.

  Jimmy answered on the fourth ring. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘what’s up?’” John snapped. “Seriously, Jimmy? What the hell? You’re supposed to be here with me.”

  Jimmy yawned loudly and asked, “Where?”

  “Griswold,” John said, biting off the word.

  “Oh,” Jimmy said. Then repeated, “Oh! I didn’t think it was today. I thought we were doing it Thursday.”

  “It is Thursday, moron,” John said, his anger rushing out of him. “Jimmy, what did you do?”

  “Me and Erica scored a couple of nail-heads yesterday, well, Tuesday,” his brother replied.

  “You told me you weren’t going to do any more heroin,” John said.

  “It was right there, Johnny, bro,” Jimmy said, chuckling. “Listen, Clint came over with them, he gave us friend prices and we were off and chasing the dragon. We got a little lost. I’m good now, though.”

  “Why, you mainline it all?” John asked, disgusted.

  “No, no needles this time,” Jimmy said. “Told you I wasn’t doing that anymore.”

  “You also said you were going to stay away from heroin completely, James,” John said, the anger returning.

  “Christ, John,” Jimmy said, his voice low and apologetic. “It was just once.”

  “I’m not watching you get another shot of Narcan because you OD’d, Jimmy,” John said. “Anyway, when can you get your nasty self over here?”

  “Um,” Jimmy grunted, “give me half an hour. So, yeah, nine?”

  “Okay,” John said. “See you then.”

  He ended the call and put the phone back on the truck bed.

  Why is he so stupid? John wondered, sighing. He reassembled the weapon, checking the action on the bolt. When it was whole again, he set it down beside the phone and looked around the small town.

  Not even a bar, he thought. Where the hell did they drink? How could you even live in a place like this without alcohol?

  John shook the questions away, got off the tailgate, and stretched. He walked over to the old church and looked through the broken windows. A few pews remained inside, cockeyed and covered with the filth of years. Scurrying sounds told him there were rodents within, and that they could see him.

  Have to get a cat or two, John told himself, wandering away from the building. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed the barest hint of a path which led around the back. The young trees were widely placed, and John moved through them easily. There was deer scat, and the bark was stripped from some of the lower branches.

  Damn, he grinned, might be able to get some fresh venison out of season.

  The path moved around cellar holes, the remnants of chimneys on the ground around them. Grass grew up among the red bricks and crumbled mortar. Soon, he found himself at the general store. He walked closer for a better look.

  John stopped. He jerked his head to the right, towards his truck.

  Someone’s here, John thought. He examined everything closely. His eyes sought out tell-tale shadows, the straight lines that gave away humanity.

  Nothing, John thought. The hair on his neck was standing up, his heart beating quickly. No, there’s something here. I can feel it.

  Jimmy would have said John’s ‘spider-sense’ was tingling, and in a way, Jimmy was right. John’s ability to read a situation from the subtle clues around them had saved the brothers from arrests, repeatedly.

  A shadow fluctuated near the pickup. Near the back of the truck, where the rifle was. And where his phone was, too.

  And the damned bullets! John thought angrily. He kept a tight rein on the fear trying to boil over in him. With slow movements, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, taking his SOG folding knife with him. He put his thumb on the quick-flip for the blade and focused on the shadow he had seen.

  Even though he was only a short distance away, John couldn’t tell if there was a big animal or a small person by the back of the truck.

  One way to find out, he thought.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Get away from my ride!”

  The shadow flinched but didn’t leave.

  Anger flared up in him, and John took a step closer to the pickup.

  “I know you can hear me!” John shouted. “Now get away!”

  Again, the barest hint of movement, but the shadow remained where it was.<
br />
  With the barest pressure from his thumb, the blade of the knife sprang out, clicking loudly. He reversed his grip on the weapon, so the back of the edge ran parallel to his forearm.

  John took a deep, calming breath, exhaled through his nose, and advanced towards the truck. He went at it wide, making sure he could see the person before they could rush at him.

  When he came abreast of the pickup, he stuttered to a stop.

  A young woman crouched at the back of the truck. Her clothes were tattered, a vivid red mark around her neck, and the sun shining through her to the ground behind her. John’s grip on the knife loosened and he dropped it.

  The young woman’s brown eyes were wide, she opened her mouth and in a voice full of fear she whispered, “Run.”

  John wanted to ask why, but something struck him in the back of the head, and he fell forward. The ground rushed up to greet him as he passed through the cold air the young woman occupied.

  Chapter 4: Jimmy’s Late Again

  When Jimmy pulled into the defunct main street of Griswold, he saw John’s pickup. But he didn’t see his brother. Frowning, Jimmy parked alongside John’s truck, turned the engine off, and got out.

  “John!” Jimmy called out. His voice echoed off the two buildings before it was swallowed by the forest around him. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, “Johnny!”

  Silence answered him.

  Jimmy went to John’s truck, opened the door, and saw the keys in the ignition. He walked to the back and looked in the bed. Some of John’s camping gear, his bolt-action Enfield rifle, and his cellphone.

  “What the hell?” Jimmy murmured. He looked around the town, glanced down, and froze.

  There was blood on the asphalt and the grass that grew between the cracked pavement.

  Oh, no, Jimmy thought. He turned back to John’s truck, grabbed the rifle out of the bed, and went back to the vehicle’s interior. In the glove box, he found a box of cartridges and several loaded clips. He stuffed everything but one clip into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. With a quick motion, he put the clip into the rifle, chambered a round, and went to the blood on the pavement.