Supernatural: One Year Gone (12 page)

Caleb Campbell and his older brother by three years, Thomas, were walking back from the village when they saw a man and his cart emerge from a little-used road that ran to the northwest. He was wild-eyed and perspiring as he approached the boys.

“The Devil has been let out, boys. Get thee home and lock the door,” the man yelled.

“Why sir?” Thomas asked.

“’Tis the Devil himself killed a poor little thing. Too gruesome for children like you to see.”

The man indicated a wrapped bundle in the back of his simple horse cart. Two snow-covered shoes peeped out from beneath the burlap covering. It was a dead body, and from the size of the feet, and style of shoe, it was that of a young girl.

The man hastened his horses toward Salem Village.

Thomas and Caleb looked at one another.

“It’s about time,” Caleb said. “This village was putting me to sleep.”

Even in the wintry light, Caleb’s sandy-blond hair shone like a summer sun. He had dark eyes and a wide-set mouth. Though he was the younger of the two Campbell brothers, he was by far the better student.

Thomas was already acquiring his adolescent brawn. The breadth of his shoulders had outgrown his coat. His mother had tanned a couple of hides from the previous winter’s hunt and sewn him a jacket. It was all deer hide, burnished to a walnut brown. She had pulled the collar up to cover most of Thomas’s neck and sewn two large pockets for his mittens, which he would surely lose several times that winter. Thomas’s coat didn’t look like any of the other boys’ clothes in town. But that was the way all the Campbells were—they didn’t quite fit in.

The Campbell family had come from Europe with the wave of English-speaking settlers in the mid-1600s. No one knew exactly which country they had originated from. They traded a few of their crops in the village, but for the most part they kept to themselves. They did not attend church, which sparked the ire of many townspeople, in particular the new minister, Reverend Parris.

Nathaniel Campbell wasn’t a religious man anyway, but he didn’t trust Reverend Parris. He told his children never to trust a man so desperate for adoration and attention. “A man such as that can be dangerous,” Nathaniel warned his family. It was for that reason Nathaniel told the clergyman that they would worship at home on Sundays and Thursdays, the days when people gathered in the tavern to talk about the Bible. Though in fact, rather than worshipping, Nathaniel made his three children study.

The Campbell children weren’t learning the Bible—they already knew it back to front—instead they were studying Latin, herbs, and texts about monsters that their ancestors had written. The family business was hunting and it was very important to Nathaniel that his two sons and daughter continue the Campbell tradition.

Thomas looked at his brother.

“You go tell Father and I’ll follow that man to town,” he said.

“Why do you get to follow him? I want to follow him,” Caleb objected.

“Because I’m older, and if I’m caught I’m better spoken,” Thomas responded.

Caleb shook his head but started toward the family farm anyway, while his brother ran after the man and his cart.

Thomas was fast and caught up with the man’s tired mare before it had reached Salem. In the village the visitor stopped and asked a local resident where to find the nearest doctor. He was directed toward the east end of town, and Thomas followed cautiously from a distance.

When they reached the doctor’s, he waited a short way down the street, crouched down next to another cart, while the man stepped inside.

A couple of minutes later the portly physician emerged from the house and approached the cart. He scooped up the body of the young girl and hurried back inside.

Thomas ran to the window of the doctor’s house and peered through the tiny glass pane. The men were laying the young girl’s body on a table.

Thomas grew anxious. He knew that his father would want to find out what had killed the girl, and he could only do that by examining the body.

The ways Nathaniel could gain access to the bodies were many, but normally he would lie and dissemble. If they were in another town or county Nathaniel would dress up as a man of the church, or sometimes pose as a merchant or a judge. Nathaniel always kept a couple of changes of clothes in his sack for these exact occasions. He would insist that he needed to see the body before anyone else did. Once he had gained access, he was usually quick to identify the culprit.

Thomas knew that his father was used to seeing strange animal bites or scratches. He knew what kind of mark a wendigo made—his Indian friends had helped him identify the first one he had ever come across. But such things would have induced panic in the common colonist. Even though the Bible played the primary cultural role in Puritan communities, Christianity couldn’t quash the inherent folk beliefs that people had brought over from Europe.

Many of the colonists were superstitious: the English spoke of baby-stealing fairies, the French of
loup-garou,
and German merchants of
Vampir.
So Nathaniel often hid evidence of those creatures, for the safety of the colony. Sometimes he would patch the wounds up on the victim’s corpse before anyone else could see them—he carried a candle for just that purpose, to drip wax into the wounds to hide them.

Before Thomas could come up with a plan to gain access alone, his father and Caleb arrived at the doctor’s in their rickety carriage. Thomas could make out the outline of the worn book of Latin spells inside his father’s coat. He always carried it with him just in case the victim was demonically possessed.

Nathaniel jumped out of the carriage as Caleb tied the horse to a post. Nathaniel nodded to Thomas and entered the doctor’s house.

Caleb left the horse and crossed the street toward his brother. The boys listened quietly at the window. They understood immediately that the men had identified the girl: Abigail Faulkner. She lived with her mother and two lame twin brothers just north of town on a small plot of land only big enough for a couple of pigs and a vegetable garden. Thomas and Caleb knew her only by sight.

Inside the house, the men decided that they had to tell Abigail’s mother what had happened, and the doctor’s servant girl was sent to fetch Widow Faulkner.

The widow arrived some twenty minutes later, already upset. Abigail hadn’t returned home from a quilting circle she had attended at the Putnam household with a couple of other girls the previous evening. Her mother thought perhaps she had stayed the night with the girls and would return home today, but she had not.

Nathaniel gently explained to her what had happened and showed the widow her daughter’s body. Straight away she began to wail and weep. Nathaniel spoke to her in calm tones, telling her that he should administer the Last Rites immediately. Eventually she seemed to understand and nodded, allowing the doctor and the other man to help her into another room.

Nathaniel closed the door behind them then went to the window and opened it. His sons waited beneath.

“Hand me my bag. I haven’t much time,” Nathaniel directed.

They swiftly hoisted their father’s large leather bag in through the window, and Nathaniel got to work. First he examined the girl’s limbs looking for any strange bites or marks, besides the obvious cut through her throat. He found nothing. There was no smell of sulfur or scorching around the mouth, so no demons had been involved with her death.

Next Nathaniel took some herbs from his bag. He sprinkled them over the girl’s body, lit a candle and chanted some Latin phrases. Nothing happened. Nathaniel looked at her palms and feet—nothing suspicious there either.

Finally he checked the back of her neck, and gently probing with his fingertips he realized something very strange—her neck was completely limp.

Nathaniel went briefly into the other room to speak to the widow, and thank the doctor and the man. He then took his leave.

When their father emerged from the house, Caleb and Thomas jumped onto the cart. Nathaniel reigned the horses in silence, and the boys knew better than to speak to their father when he was deep in thought.

Once they were near the edge of the village, Nathaniel spoke.

“Her neck was completely broken,” he stated.

“Broken?” Caleb asked.

“Like a chicken’s. But there wasn’t any bruising. Usually, such as with a hanging, there would be bruising,” Nathaniel mused darkly.

“How was it broken?” Thomas asked.

Nathaniel shook his head.

“There’s one obvious way to break a neck without touching someone.”

“Black magic?” Caleb hazarded.

“Exactly.” His father nodded.

“Didn’t her mother say that she was at a quilting circle at the Putnam household?” Thomas offered.

“Indeed,” Nathaniel said. “You boys go round to the Putnam house. Take some eggs. Say you want to trade with them. Find out when exactly Abigail Faulkner was there last. Also, look for any signs of witchery.”

“Yes, sir, right away,” Thomas said. He grabbed his brother, climbing off the cart and pulling Caleb after him. They grabbed a basket of fresh eggs off the back of the cart. In their line of business it was wise to always carry something to trade.

The boys waved goodbye to their father and trudged through deep snow back toward the village.

The Putnam house was just off Old Meetinghouse Road. When they reached the residence, they climbed the steps to the imposing front door and knocked determinedly. The echoing sound of their knocking was followed by a piercing scream from inside the building, then the heavy tromp of boots could be heard approaching the front door. There was another scream, and then a man with a long nose and a small birdlike bridge to his face opened the door.

It was Reverend Parris. His face was wracked with pain.

“What is it, boys?” Reverend Parris asked.

“We’ve come to trade some eggs and perhaps speak to Anne and Prudence? Is everything all right?” Thomas asked boldly, trying to peer around the figure of the clergyman to see what was happening inside.

Just then another scream came from inside the house and Anne Putnam, a small twelve-year-old girl, appeared behind Reverend Parris. She had a wild look in her eyes. She looked at Caleb, them being the same age, then grabbed his arm and tried to pull him into the house. Reverend Parris protested, grasping the girl’s wrist and freeing Caleb.

Mr. Putnam, Anne’s father, emerged into the hallway and the two men conferred briefly. Thomas and Caleb watched from the doorway.

“Come, come, you’ve come just in time,” Ann cried to Caleb. “See, see them there? Look how they scream at me. There, there! Up in the rafters!” She pointed toward the ceiling. The boys stepped cautiously into the hallway but when they looked up, they could see nothing unusal.

Another young girl, Prudence, who the boys knew to be Anne’s close friend, emerged from the shadows. She too seemed to be on the verge of hysteria. She cried out and fell on the ground, her body twisting into severe shapes and her tongue rolling out of her mouth.

As if suddenly noticing the boys’ presence, the Reverend pushed them back out of the front door.

“We have no time for you, boys,” he said. “Evil is upon us.” Just as he shut the door they heard Reverend Parris say to Mr. Putnam, “The same affliction has come to my house. My daughter and servant girl too scream out. It’s witches I tell you. Satan has come to Salem.”

As the boys went back down the steps, Thomas turned toward his younger brother.

“I think Anne Putnam has taken a shine to you.”

Caleb smirked at his brother’s sense of humor.

“Are you saying only a girl afflicted by an unseen force would like me?”

“Yes,” Thomas said matter-of-factly. “Let’s go tell Father that it seems these girls are troubled by witches.”

Nathaniel Campbell and his family sat around the rough-hewn dinner table in front of the large hearth. The family was in deep discussion about the current events. Rose Mary Campbell filled everyone’s bowls with soup and a large crust of bread.

“I heard they’ve accused Parris’s servant, Tituba, as well as Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne, of witchery,” Hannah said. She was the eldest child, a well-mannered, quick-witted, fearless whip of a girl.