The Widow’s Mountain, Part 4: The Sisters

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This is the fourth and final installment of a four-part series. If you haven’t already, be sure to start with Part 1 of The Widow’s Mountain before reading on. You can do that here.

The Widow’s Mountain, Part 4: The Sisters

The lantern swung violently in my hand as I lunged down the corridor of the hotel.  With every few steps, I looked back over my shoulder, worried she had followed me out of the room.  As the light bounced around the walls, the hall behind me was vacant for now. 

She’d been in the hotel for less than two hours, but our recent guest, Edith, had just seduced my colleague and likely killed him in our bunkhouse.  I was still trying to comprehend the scene I’d just witnessed.

I had a few drinks just before the incident, but was sober enough to know Edith wasn’t normal.  Her jaw had contorted as she bit into Chad’s face and neck.  I couldn’t make sense of it, it was surreal.

My main focus now was to get everyone else to safety.  Unfortunately, this meant dealing with the mysterious widow in the lobby who had appeared in the middle of the raging blizzard outside. 

I turned the final corner down the long corridor and could see light from the fireplace illuminating the lobby and bar area.  The scene was almost the same as before.  Sammi was standing by the bar and looked up as I came running in.  Naomi was gripping the edge of the couch, eyes fixed on the widow, who was at the edge room.  She stood almost in the shadows, leaning on her broom handle for support.

As I came to a stop, the widow called out in her feeble voice, “where is it?”

I took a moment to catch my breath, then began grabbing the candles and other supplies we had gathered for the power-outage. 

“It’s gone,” I answered, referring to the knife Chad had stolen from her cabin earlier that afternoon, “and so is Chad.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Sammi asked, “What’s going on? What are you doing?!”

“I don’t have time to explain,” I stated. “We need to move up to the shed and get on the radio!”

“They’re monsters,” Naomi stated calmly.

I stopped my frantic gathering and watched her.  With one hand grasping the arrowhead pendant around her neck, she remained focused on the widow.

“She’s evil.  They both are.” She continued, “This is the evil that drove my people out.  They’re here for blood.”

There was a silence in the room as shadows bounced from the fire’s flames.  The stare-down between Naomi and the widow progressed.  The widow’s head was now tilted slightly askew, she bore a devilishly-open grin.  A few black teeth were visible behind the saliva gathered at the edge of her mouth. 

“We have to get out of the hotel!”  I shouted, “Naomi’s right, something bad is happening and we need to get up to Tom & Jonny before it’s too late.”

I threw the supplies into an empty box by the bar and handed the lantern to Sammi.  I had no idea what Naomi was feeling in the moment, but at least we were on the same page. 

The power was out and phone lines were down.  I knew our only hope was the radio in the Search and Rescue shed, where Tom and Jonny had been this whole time, unaware of our situation down in the hotel.

The room was silent and still. Nobody moved. 

I watched the widow.  She seemed so frail, it didn’t make sense how she showed up to the hotel in the middle of the blizzard on her own.  Even with the broom she held as a walking stick.  The same hand-woven broom she used to wipe our muddy boot tracks from her steps earlier in the day.  The same broom she held in her earlier years, posed beside another young woman in the photo I saw hanging in her cabin.

Then it hit me, ‘The photo.’  I now realized who the other young woman was.

It was Edith.

Before I could find the words to say, Sammi spoke up, “You guys are crazy.  There’s nothing evil going on.  We just need to help this old widow find what she’s looking for and then we’ll go call for help.”

“Is that what you think of me?”  The widow interjected, her voice croaked weakly.

She began to step forward and directed her stare towards Sammi.  Naomi stood and braced herself against the couch, seeming ready to pounce across the 20 foot space that stood between them.

“I’m not just some old widow.”  The old woman stopped, and her head straightened. 

Her chest puffed out as she took a large breath and stiffened her shoulders.

With a deep, guttural roar, she shouted, “I’M A FUCKING WITCH!”

With her mouth wide open, she lunged towards us.  I dropped the box of supplies and rushed to grab Sammi out of the way.  As the widow came within a few feet of us, Naomi rushed in from the left side and smashed her to the ground.

In a quick motion, Naomi ripped the arrowhead from her necklace and plunged it toward the widow’s head.  The powerful blow stabbed the arrowhead through the front of her skull.

She pulled it out and hammered back for a second swing.  She smashed it down again, where it entered through the widow’s eye.

As soon as the second strike landed, the widow let out a deafening shriek.  Naomi tried scrambling to her feet, but was too slow.  The widow’s torso bent upwards and erupted in an explosion of bright light, emitting a powerful shockwave that knocked us all back.

The room went dark as the widow’s scream echoed out.  The fire had been extinguished and the windows were all shattered.  I struggled to my feet and picked up Sammi.  I fumbled around inside the box of supplies, grabbing a book of matches and a candle.  I lit the candle, then the lantern.

I moved the flickering light about and searched for Naomi.  She was no longer among us or near the furniture by the fireplace.  I stepped behind the bar and found her lying unconscious among piles of shattered glass, arrowhead still clinched in her hand.

“Sammi,” I called out. “Go up to the shed and have Tom radio for help.  I’ll get Naomi fixed up and we’ll be right behind you.”

Sammi took the lantern and ran out the back door of the lobby.

I rushed over to the fireplace, trying to find anything I could use to carry Naomi out of the hotel with.  I settled on the coffee table that had been forced on its side from the previous explosion.  The table was missing two back legs, so I placed the widow’s broom handle behind the remaining front legs and brought it over to the bar. 

Using a thick blanket that had been draped over the couch, I wrapped up Naomi, set her on the makeshift stretcher and began the hike up to the shed. 

By now, there was over two feet of snow on the ground and the storm was still pounding.  I pulled against the broom handle, dragging the table and Naomi along the steep incline of the ski slope.  The Search and Rescue shed was only 200 yards uphill from the back of the hotel, but it took every ounce of energy to pull us through the piercing wind and snow. 

As we neared, I could see light through the windows and open door.

The ground finally leveled out ten feet from the shed, so I brought the stretcher to a halt.  I could see shadows moving around inside.  I reached down and grabbed the arrowhead from Naomi just in case.

I came within a few feet of the shed as a shadow neared the entrance.  In one swift step, a figure appeared in the doorway.  It was Edith.

The light behind her shone brightly through her hair, which was now matted and dark red with blood.  She turned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face.  Her eyes were foggy and glazed over, as fresh blood dripped from her mouth and cheeks.

“Look at what we have here,” she laughed. “You’ve brought me another meal.”

I was frozen with fear and shock.  I figured if she had made her way up here to kill Tom and Jonny already, she must’ve killed Sammi as well.

Suddenly, the fear and shock turned to anger.  Overwhelmed with rage, I swung my arm back, arrowhead in hand.  As I lurched forward to attack, Sammi jumped into the doorway and pushed Edith aside.

“Stop!” Sammi screamed.

I pulled back, relieved that she was ok. Then unexpectedly, Sammi grabbed my head and smashed it into the side of the shed.  Her grip felt as strong as ten men.  I was stunned and fell to my knees in the snow.

Sammi looked down at the ground, blood covered her face and hands. 

“You have to get away from her, Sammi!”  I spat, trying to regain my bearings, “I saw her and the widow in a photo together at widow’s cabin earlier.  Naomi was right, they’re evil!”

“Bert, I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen,” Sammi responded with guilt in her voice.

“I don’t understand,” I replied. “Tell me what’s happening!”

“Who do you think took the photo?”  She answered. 

Edith’s laughter returned, “Oh, dear sister, you always did have a soft spot for the boys up here.”

“Let it go, Edith,” She scolded.  “We’ve had enough for this feeding.  It’s time to leave.”

“Oh fine,” Edith said. “Where’s Agnes?”

“She killed her,” Sammi answered, pointing to Naomi on the stretcher. “But no need for revenge, she won’t last much longer.”

Sammi and Edith walked out of the shed, grabbed the widow’s broom and walked towards the trees.

The snow around me was melting from the blood dripping out of the open wound on my head.  I was dazed, trying to wrap my brain around the chaos that had just taken place.   I was now being left alone with four dead friends and colleagues as I sat exposed in a horrendous blizzard.

I crawled inside the shed to call for help.  Just as I pulled myself up to the radio, a hand on my shoulder spun me around.  Sammi had come back and leaned down in my face.

“No one will believe the truth that took place,” She said. “They never do.  Blame it on the wolves.”

She leaned in, kissed me, then turned and walked away.

“I’m sorry we met at a bad time,” she called out, “maybe I’ll see you next time around.”

Then she was gone.

I never forgot the horror of that night, and I never will.  My naiveté brought me into the situation, and it may have saved my life. 

Over the years, the guilt has remained heavy on my shoulders, and those souls lost must be avenged.  I will be ready when they feed again.

Now, as I sit here alone in the cabin at the end of the mountain road, Naomi’s necklace gets heavier every day.  The storm is coming.

Cadbury Pringlebatch is the Operations Manager for The SoBros Network, but knows a little bit about everything. Known for frequenting Nashville YMCA steam rooms, he’s a firm believer that winning football is produced by moving the chains, and became a SoBro after mistaking one of our podcasts for an AA meeting. Follow on Twitter: @SoBroCadbury

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