Jim's haunted past

Chapter 5: Jim warns his student

"Billy, hang back a minute please. I'd like a word," Jim called as students began packing up their books.

The lanky teen sauntered over, sandy hair falling across his forehead. "What's up Mr. Norman? Homework advice?"

Jim managed a thin smile. He waited until the room had emptied before speaking in a low, urgent tone.

"Billy, you seem like a good kid. That's why I want you to listen closely when I say you may be in danger."

Billy's eyebrows shot up. "Danger? From what?"

"Not what - who." Jim moved closer. "Richard Lawson and his friends...they're not who they pretend to be. You'd best avoid them."

Billy let out an incredulous laugh. "No offense Mr. Norman, but you kinda sound like a nutjob. Rich and those guys seem chill."

Jim gripped the boy's lanky shoulder. "I'm dead serious Billy. They - " He hesitated. "They're not even really alive, not human like you and me. Stay away or you'll wind up like the other victims."

Billy shrugged off Jim's hand, eyeing him warily. "I think you need to talk to the counselor or something. I'm just trying to pass 10th grade."

He turned to leave but Jim blocked his path, frantic. "Billy please! I can't let them hurt you too. You have to believe me before it's too late!"

"Jeez relax! I'll...watch my back around Rich if it makes you feel better." Billy edged around Jim, hands raised placatingly. "But seriously Mr. Norman, you seem really stressed. Take care of yourself."

Jim could only watch helplessly as the teen hurried away down the hall. He prayed his warning would be heeded, but feared Billy's casual dismissal of the danger. Jim couldn't save someone not willing to save themselves.

That night, guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. He should have been more convincing, made Billy understand the mortal peril.

When the call came two days later that Billy's body had been found, Jim cried out as if gut-punched. The greasers had claimed another innocent soul he'd failed to protect. Crumpling to the kitchen floor, Jim knew one truth with chilling clarity: there would be no redemption until the killers were silenced forevermore.

He would not squander this second chance to stop them. No more pleading or peacemaking - the time for war had come. With iron resolve, Jim began meticulously planning the demise of Vinnie, Richard and David. Jim sat parked down the block from Stratford High, hands clenched on the wheel as he scanned the students pouring from the front doors. It pained him seeing their youthful faces, knowing Billy's would never be among them again. Jim had failed to protect that boy, but he was determined not to repeat his mistake.

He watched the teens disperse, vigilant for the familiar black hot rod lurking with predatory intent. Billy was already lost, but Jim would be damned if he let the greasers claim another innocent life.

As expected, the souped-up vehicle soon came prowling by. Jim felt his pulse quicken with hatred at the sight of Vinnie, Richard and David inside, searching for their next hapless victim. Revving his engine, Jim tailed the car at a distance through the suburban streets.

Before long, the greasers had cornered a terrified student in a secluded cul-de-sac. Jim accelerated, swerving to block their advance. The teens scattered as his car screeched to a halt, their murderous plot interrupted.

"Not today you demonic scum!" Jim bellowed, grabbing the tire iron from his seat.

Richard's scowl twitched his mangled face. "Looks like someone wants to join his brother."

Jim held them off, giving the student time to flee. Though his heart ached for poor Billy, at least he had spared another innocent. As sirens approached, the greasers vanished into the night. Their reckoning would come, Jim vowed. But not today. Jim sat at the scuffed kitchen table, recording his last will and testament with meticulous care. Sally had already gone to stay with relatives out of town for her safety. Jim couldn't risk her being used as leverage against him when the final confrontation with the greasers came.

All his worldly affairs were now in order. His meager assets would pass to Sally if...no, when he ended this. She and the baby deserved that much security at least.

Jim had chosen the old train depot as the location to lure Vinnie, Richard, and David. The same spot where they'd murdered Wayne all those years ago. There was a poetic justice in seeing their undead lives ended where they'd ended his brother's.

As dusk approached, Jim drove out to the abandoned depot carrying two containers - one of gasoline, one holding an ominous rag wick. He hoped flame might accomplish what other methods had failed to do.

The creaking floorboards and dancing shadows set Jim's nerves on edge. He couldn't help but imagine Wayne's last terrified moments in this place. Jim closed his eyes, sending a solemn prayer to his brother.

Soon you'll rest easy Wayne. We both will.

In the distance, the haunting whistle of an approaching train echoed. Jim stiffened, then breathed deep. It was time.

He opened the containers and began dousing the wooden walls and boarded up windows with gasoline. The fumes stung his nostrils with the promise of fire's cleansing fury. Taking the container with the wick, Jim retreated outside to wait.

Right on cue, the familiar black hot rod came roaring up the gravel road toward the depot. Jim tossed the molotov cocktail through a shattered window frame. Within seconds flames erupted from inside, lighting up the night.

Shouts rang out from the greasers as they abandoned their car. Jim clutched the crowbar he'd brought, ready to face them head on.

Richard stormed toward him, face contorted in rage. "You're gonna pay for that old man!"

"Your reckoning is long overdue," Jim replied. Today justice would prevail at last.

With a guttural cry, he charged forth to meet their fury. If these were to be his final moments on earth, he was ready. Flames engulfed the abandoned train depot, lighting up the night sky in brilliant hues of orange and gold. Inside the inferno, the greasers' wailing took on a nightmarish quality as the fire consumed their undead flesh. Jim stood with Nell a safe distance away, transfixed by the sight.

"We got 'em for sure this time," Nell rasped, shielding her weathered face from the intense heat. "No coming back from hellfire."

Jim nodded grimly. He knew this blaze marked more than just the greasers' destruction - it was the funeral pyre Wayne had been robbed of decades ago. A symbolic cremation granting both brothers the peace stolen from them.

As the ancient timbers finally collapsed in a shower of sparks, Jim and Nell moved closer to sift through the smoldering ruins. They found small piles of charred bone fragments, all that remained of the resurrected teens.

"Help me gather them up," Jim said, grabbing a burlap sack. "We'll give them a proper burial for good measure."

They collected every speck of blackened skeleton, laying the grim remains to rest in the potter's field cemetery on the edge of town. Nell recited a simple blessing as Jim tamped down the dirt.

"Goodbye for good, you devils," Nell muttered. "The dead can't walk where they're buried."

In the following weeks, an unfamiliar sensation took root within Jim - hope. For the first time in ages, he began contemplating a peaceful future with Sally and their child.

But that budding optimism withered one cool autumn night when an urgent pounding roused Jim from fitful slumber. He blinked against the glare of flashlights as two police officers burst in.

"More kids are dead," one officer said gruffly. "Their throats ripped out just like before."

Jim's stomach dropped like a stone. No, it couldn't be. They had ended the greasers for good.

Unless that fire had only destroyed the teens' mortal forms temporarily. Until three new bodies were found for their twisted spirits to infest once more...

Jim knew then the nightmare was far from finished. He sank into a chair, head in trembling hands. Sally wrapped her arms around him tightly, lending her strength for the next round in this endless battle.