Charles Von Barthew
The
trio stood in the center of the room and then briskly walked out to the
hallway, Madeline leading the charge.
She turned after about fifty feet, proceeding down a second, much
narrower and certainly less well lit, hallway.
A chilly wind blew through a smashed window near the end of the hallway.
I don’t remember such disrepair from my
last visit. The doctor thought. How
much else has changed?
“This
is as far I dare to go for now,” Madeline said.
“Until that door is open, approaching it would only anguish me.”
The
two men proceeded down the length of the hallway. A short time later the door which Madeline
had mentioned came into view. It was a
dark door, possibly oak in construction, and at first glance appeared to be
splattered with chipped dark red paint. Upon closer inspection however, it was
apparent that it was blood that adorned the door.
Doctor
Demetrius called out as the pair neared the door.
“Winchester,
are you in there? It’s Maximilian and
Delvin. Are you alright in there, old
boy?”
When
no answer came, Captain Kruler tried.
“Charles? Friend, come out here so we can talk. Its only old Max and Delv.”
Again,
no answer came to their cries.
“Delvin,
cut it down.”
Captain
Kruler drew Irontooth, and began, slowly, to remove the door from its frame.
“I
can’t cut through the locks, Max. You’ll
have to get those off.”
Doctor
Demetrius loaded a shotgun shell into his Le Matt, as Kruler stepped aside. He
fired once at the deadbolt, cocked the hammer, and then fired two rounds from
the revolver chamber at the lock on the handle.
With nothing left to grip its frame, the door fell back into the room
with an audible thud.
A
small candle on the interior wall provided the room with little light. Nonetheless the pair could make out a figure
in the corner of the room. It sat on the
floor facing a rusty metal bed frame which held on it a broken and decrepit
mattress. The creature’s head was mostly
barren, save only small patches of dark brown hair scattered briefly about his
scalp. His nails, broken and dirty,
extended from his long pale white fingers.
The man, or creature as most would now regard it, was bent over in such
a way that one would infer it had severe scoliosis.
“Father,
Father is that you?” Madeline cried out to the creature from the doorway. She had crept up when she saw that her
uncle’s had managed to remove the door.
“Come
on old chap, say something. We’re all rather worried.” Doctor Demetrius had moved over to the bed
post and was standing over the figure of what he now saw was indeed his old
friend.
Though
twisted and disheveled, Winchester Von Barthew appeared in good health in all
respects. The man did nothing, except
reach out with a finger to write a single sentence on the floor near the
doctor.
It
read as follows:
Attic
trunk papers
What could this mean? Doctor Demetrius wondered. Maybe
Madeline can provide some clarity.
The
pair walked back through the now ruined doorframe and down the hall to where
Madeline was standing. The girl had fled
down the hall in distress upon sight of the creature that she had once regarded
as a father. The doctor even, was
certain that his old friend was now very much less than human.
“Madeline,
dear, I think it’s best if we investigate the attic,” Kruler said gently.
Doctor
Demetrius nodded in agreement.
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