Two Human Lives

June 8, 1928

Today's lunch was canned peas and pan-seared steak. Lavinia refused the half Hope cut for her, because Wilbur had slaughtered a cow today and told Lavinia she could eat as much as she wanted.

Hope didn't know how he'd made it back to this room. He remembered kneeling on the ground, wailing and crying, while the Transparent Monster, sated, nuzzled his hands and legs ingratiatingly.

He remembered hearing the clatter of Wilbur's hooves. The Transparent Monster stopped, and Wilbur seemed less tense afterward, but Hope had left before Wilbur could discover him.

He also remembered washing the tears from his face, then putting on an anxious look when Wilbur returned to the storeroom, asking what had happened.

"I chased that thing back," Wilbur said. "It's back on the second floor now, won't lose control for a while. I'm getting tools to seal up that hole."

Wilbur pointed at the hammer and ladder in the storeroom, then at the pile of planks stacked in another corner, indicating those were what he needed.

He hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Also, unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Corey—Paul's parents—they're dead. That thing on the second floor ate them."

Hope was silent for a few seconds. Wilbur thought he needed time to digest the news, so he waited patiently.

But Hope was actually suppressing his emotions. He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself not to dwell on it. "But our agreement was..."

"As long as you don't run, we can't kill anyone in Dunwich. Relax, I remember." Wilbur said. "But believe me, it was an accident. No one expected this to happen. It's not good for me either."

"So, can you resurrect them?"

"Don't be stupid, Hope." Wilbur shook his head, sighing in a way that didn't seem feigned. "This is my fault. I'll find a way to compensate you somehow... Paul will probably have to come back to arrange his parents' funeral. Do you want to attend?"

Not long after Wilbur left, Hope heard the scream of a cow. Wilbur carried a knife, and a cow lay on the ground, lifeless.

At noon, Hope ate the pan-seared steak. He didn't know the cuts of beef, but Lavinia said it was the best part of the cow. She refused his offer to split it with her, saying she was already full.

By afternoon, Wilbur personally brought Hope his meal.

This dinner had no canned peas—just pan-seared beef and bread with butter.

Wilbur brought Common Herb Collection, setting the book gently on the table in the middle of the room.

"How's the beef?" Wilbur asked.

"Not bad. A little salty."

Wilbur nodded. "The other residents have already noticed the Coreys are missing. Mr. Sawyer organized a search party. They didn't write to Paul Corey—they called his school directly, so he can come back sooner."

"What will they find?"

"They won't find anything. Before Paul gets back, they'll announce the Coreys' deaths and decide they fell from the waterfall on Sentinel Hill, their bodies swept away by the current. When Paul returns, the few relatives and neighbors he has here will help arrange the funeral. You can go see it then."

"Will Paul agree?"

"What choice does he have?"

"Will anyone come looking here?"

"Someone will definitely suspect me or Grandfather did it, but they won't have any evidence." Wilbur said. "That thing upstairs caused a big mess, but it still has some restraint. It only drooled a little near the Coreys' house and withered some weeds. That alone can't prove anything."

Wilbur patted Hope's shoulder. "And it's just two people. Even the locals won't care. Their funeral won't be any grander than Old Williams'. Mr. Corey hasn't even been here twenty years—some old diehards still don't recognize him as a Dunwich man. Don't take it too hard."

Hope shook off Wilbur's hand. The motion made the ugly goat-face show a flicker of anger, eyes fixed on Hope. Hope stared back without flinching.

The anger didn't erupt; it faded from Wilbur's face quickly. He left.

Hope had told a small lie. The beef tasted terrible, and not just because it was too salty.

Rather... Hope felt this beef had been bought with the Coreys' lives. That guilt made him want to vomit.

Later that evening, Wilbur and Lavinia carried Hope's bed over together.

Wilbur didn't mention the handcuffs again. He reinforced the storeroom window with two planks, but didn't seal it completely. Then he nailed a wire to the top of the window frame on the inside, hanging a cloth from it as a makeshift curtain.

Wilbur finally said, "From now on, every time I open the door, I'll knock first, then count to five before coming in."

Hope knew this was his compensation—after all, it was only two lives.

Once Wilbur was gone, Hope pulled the curtain shut and lay down on the bed. The room was empty, just him.

Only a single sheet separated him from the bed board. The hard planks were anything but comfortable, pressing against his flesh with no cushion, bruising his bones through skin and muscle.

Now, neither Wilbur nor Lavinia would bother him anymore. He finally had a quiet environment and time alone to sort out his feelings, let his thoughts roam, and think about things.

He realized he was still sad. His fragile tear ducts were eager to secrete some liquid, proving their worth.

He racked his brain trying to recall the Coreys' faces, but only two blurry figures appeared in his mind—a man and a woman, one tall, one short—their faces blank.

Only then did he remember he'd known the Coreys for just a few minutes, hadn't even had time for more than a few words.

He couldn't help wondering:

Were those two already dead?

Were they like Robert, already part of the Transparent Monster?

That couldn't be right. Mr. Corey had said Jenny was a good horse, a great one. How could such a great horse suddenly stop, go against its master's will?

The Coreys must have already left this place, right? Mr. Corey had survived the monster once—he could escape a second time.

Jenny would carry them away. She'd run like a true peerless steed, run and run, all the way to the city, out of Bay State, to North Oak State, so the Coreys could reunite with their son.

After all, they were two lives.