THE UNDERTAKER and other Macabre Tales

THE WATCHER PART VI

Steve had no known relatives so James took care of the funeral arrangements. He didn't mind. He felt that he owed it to Steve, and it helped take his mind off of everything else that was going on.

The funeral was small. Just a few co-workers. A priest was hired to give a short sermon. Steve wasn't really religious, but he'd never spoken against it. And James sure as hell wasn't going to speak. He lingered for awhile in the hall after everyone else had left, drinking what was left of the spiked punch.

Anne came up to him at some point, asked him if he'd like to postpone the party. James said no. He just wanted to get it over with.

Days and nights blurred together. The blinds were kept permanently closed. Anne knew something was up. She confronted James about it one night and made him promise to see a doctor. He knew he wouldn't, but he agreed to get her off his chest. The party was only a few days away, and then one way or another this would all be over. At least he hoped it would.

The drinking got worse. He took the rest of the week off from work and he spent most of his time drunk or passed out. He didn't know which was worse. When he was awake all he wanted was to sleep, and when he was asleep he was plagued by horrible nightmares. He would see that thing's face, and because it was a dream, he was unable to look away.

At last the day of the party arrived. James sobered up, at least enough to not fall over. But he knew as soon as the party arrived he'd just start drinking again.

James splashed some cold water in his face. He approached the blinds, daring to look out. The Thing was only a few feet from the window now. Faceless, under the white sheet. It wouldn't be long now before it got to him. James shut the window, surprised at his level of fear and apathy. He didn't care, he wanted it to be over, and yet he dreaded what was going to happen. It's the anticipation before the bang that drives men mad.

Anne got off work early and began setting up for the party. The table was decorated with alcohol of all kinds and colors. The guests began to arrive shortly after and James hid in the sideroom for the first while. He hated the first hour of the party, when it was awkward because there was only a few people and you had to talk to them even if you didn't like them. He felt like crap. He thought about just heading upstairs to sleep, but he couldn't do that to Anne. This was her one night. He needed to be there to support her.

He managed to drag himself into the party at about 8:30. By then there were already several groups of people talking. James didn't know any of them and he didn't want to. The doorbell rang and he was grateful for an excuse to move away from the crowd. People had already begun to stare at him and he knew he must look as bad as he felt.

When James opened the door, a smiling couple he didn't recognize greeted him cheerfully and stepped past him inside. But there was something else on the doorstep. The thing under the white sheet was there, waiting for him. It was here at last.

A scream caught in James' throat and he slammed the door shut. Panicking, he shoved his way through the party and into the kitchen.

James was safe in here, that thing wouldn't walk. He'd never seen it move. But to his horror, it was moving. A white spectre, moving through the crowd toward him. The white sheet slipped off, revealing Brian's smiling, dead face. Grinning horribly, enjoying its revenge.

James couldn't believe it. His reckoning was finally here. He backed up as far as he could go, bumping a table and sending bottles of alcohol to the floor, where they shattered into a million pieces.

Partygoers gradually caught on to what was happening, and watched James with confusion and awe.

"Hey, you all right, buddy?"

"What is he looking at?"

Anne came up to him, gripping him by the arm "What is going on? James, you're embarrassing me!"

James lifted a shaking arm. His back now against the kitchen wall. The THING standing in the middle of the kitchen, still drifting slowly toward him. "It's here! Can't you see it? It's right here!"

Everyone was looking around, unable to see what he was pointing at. "I can't let it get me! I won't!" James snatched a box of matches off the counter. He lit one, held it aloft, causing the crowd to back even further away. He let the match fall from his fingers onto the alcohol soaked ground. The kitchen instantly leapt into flames.

Sheer panic broke out among the party goers. People flocked to the nearest exits with no regard for order or safety, pushing, cramming, pulling hair. Chaos ensued, and soon James was left there, alone with the thing. Anne pulled James hand, a final effort to get James out. But he resisted. Something inside James knew that she knew, that it was over. The man in front of her was not going to be saved. Anne turned and ran, but James didn't care. He only watched the thing in front of him. The world around him burned, and still the thing kept moving. James grabbed the bowl of punch off the counter and poured it all over himself. The flames caught, and soon he was a ball of burning flesh. His world began to fade. The last thing he saw was a dark hand reaching out toward him....

Years later, when those who were at the party recounted the story of what happened that night, they would tell of James and how something just hadn't seemed right with him. He'd had a mental break. It had been coming for years, anyone could see it. He even tried to take out several of them with him. That Anne had never liked any of them anyways, many even said that she had been in on the whole thing. And some swore, to their graves, that they saw not one, but two figures in the house as it burned. One was James, and the other was....well, who knew? That was a mystery that would never be solved. Because when the police investigated the house afterwards, they only found remains of one body.