The Skull Ring (37 page)

Walter tried to stagger after her, but Julia stopped him. "Let her go," she said. "She won't freeze to death if she keeps moving. They'll find her sooner or later and get her the help she needs."

Walter leaned against her. "Hopefully, she won't get a therapist as screwed-up as yours."

"You're making fun of a woman who's holding a gun," she reminded him.

“You’re not a bad Clint Eastwood yourself,” he said.

She didn’t want to explain the murdering force that had descended upon her and briefly possessed her. It would sound deranged, the kind of thing a defense lawyer would use for an insanity plea. Walter would call it the grace of God, but Julia could never be sure whether it was instead the will of a malevolent master whose most potent magic was served by disguise and doubt. The devil’s greatest trick was in getting people to believe he didn’t exist.

But maybe God’s greatest trick was in granting people the free will to doubt.

“I’m no better than they are,” she said, looking at the gun that was cooling in her hand.

Walter shook his head. A large purple knot was swelling above his temple. He touched it and winced. "I'm going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow."

So would Julia. Tomorrow, she'd have to deal with the fact that she had killed someone. She had played God just as certainly as Hartley had, taking human life. Sure, she could justify it, but every sin had its price, every sinner an excuse.

"Any more of the Creeps around?" she asked. "I only saw three, plus Hartley and the doctor."

"I shot one," he said. "That's where I got the robe. But I lost Mitchell's gun climbing up the rocks to get here. It got dark so fast I couldn't look for it."

"There might be more of the 'Brothers' around, but I doubt it. Not enough slices of the money pie."

"Money?"

"I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here."

She helped Walter toward the trail, clutching the gun in her right hand. Maybe somewhere, God and Satan were sitting in the Happy Hour of the afterlife and bickering over the nature of good and evil and which of them had won this latest dice roll of human souls.

The sun slipped behind the ridges as they staggered back up the trail, both of them weak. They had reached the granite peak of Cracker Knob when Dr. Forrest's high voice drifted up from the woods. "Oh, Jooolia. Jooolia. He
ooowns
you, Jooooolia."

Julia looked out over the dark ripples of Appalachian Mountains in the distance, at the black pockets of valleys. In a strange way, Dr. Forrest
had
healed her. Compared to a devil-worshipping lunatic who liked to play with patients' minds, Julia felt like the most sane and rational person on the planet.

They rested against the rocks, the sky in twilight. Walter fidgeted with his hand for a moment and held something out to her. "This is yours," he said. "I was keeping it for you."

The silver ring. She looked at the skull grinning in the moonlight, at the stupid empty eyes that saw nothing.

“Free will,” he said.

She took a step forward and hurled the ring into the deep valley below the rocks. Judas Stone didn't exist.

She couldn't tell which of them moved first, or if they simultaneously had the same idea. They embraced, their lips meeting, body heat and the heat beyond that combining. Julia kissed desperately, afraid that each precious moment belonged to the past, was already over and never to be regained. But then Walter kissed her again, and she knew that these moments were hers for as long as she desired.

They finally parted, Julia so light-headed that she had to lean against the rocks again. Neither of them spoke, afraid to break the little magic spell the world had allowed. Walter took her hand and guided her between the boulders under the timeless night.

The wind gently pushed the last scraps of clouds away. The sky was indigo and scattered with stars. The rising moon shone down on the silver forest. They continued through the trees, pushing away the groping branches.

By the time they reached the cabin, Julia was exhausted. They found that the Jeep's tires had been slashed. The Creeps had wanted to cut off easy escape.

"Looks like we'll have to hike out," Walter said.

"Not tonight," Julia said. "I'm beat."

"No, you're not beat. They'll never beat you if you don't let them."

"I am a mountain," Julia said, with just enough strength left to laugh. She turned solemn and said, “If you let God in your heart, can you ever make him leave?”

“Free will,” he said.

“You’re not still trying to save me, are you?”

“Door’s open when you want to talk about it.”

They went inside the dark cabin, Julia's hand squeezing the gun's grip, finger ready at the trigger. No Creeps. She was finished with Creeps, real or imagined. Doors closed and deadbolts thrown. Safe house.

"Want me to build a fire?" Walter asked.

"Yes," she said, pulling him toward the loft. "Like you did up on the rocks."

Julia climbed the ladder and scrambled onto the loft. She laid the gun within reach and kicked the blankets aside while Walter hurried up alongside her. Finally, she was ready to trust.

She tore at the buttons of his shirt, burning with hunger. This hunger was deep, reaching further inside her than any fear or panic or hopelessness ever had. This surrender was of her soul, the thing that she and she alone possessed.

Nobody could steal her soul. No demon, no god, no human. It was hers to give as she chose. Of her own free will.

As she reached for the heat of his skin, she wondered how he would react to the touch of her scars.

But it didn't matter. Wounds healed, scars faded, the past always lost in the battle of forever.

“Jooolia,” he whispered, arousing a last shiver of doubt.

To hell with it
.

She threw herself into the fire.

THE END

False Recovered Memories

By Scott Nicholson

The Skull Ring
was a novel that got me my first agent, way back in the publishing Dark Ages of 2001 or so. He liked it, but
The Red Church
sold through the slush pile before he finished it, and as my career moved on, somehow the novel fell in the cracks.

It sat dormant and was slated to be published as a limited-edition hardcover a few years ago until the publisher went out of business. This novel was killing so many agents and publishers that I thought I might as well stamp “666" on it and toss it in the dead-letter office.

The digital revolution inspired me to see how audiences would respond to the story of a woman who can’t trust her own memories as sinister forces from the past close in around her. A couple of people, including a professional counselor, basically said Satanism was dead, and the False Recovered Memory Syndrome that was a diagnosis
du jour
in the 1980's was as dated as disco and MTV. But, heck, Koontz released a novel called
False Memory
not that long ago, and all evidence indicates Satan is still very active in the world today.

In researching the novel, I dug into the psychological case books and the diagnostic manuals, researching details of actual cases and the mumbo jumbo of the modern voodoo called “Psychology.” Really, a counselor with a wicked streak can do a lot of damage, and when you combine that with a belief that one serves a higher, darker purpose, then how can a mere mortal stand a chance?

Before the diagnosis eventually became ridiculed, a number of psychologists built reputations by ‘uncovering” so many childhood victims of ritual abuse that it seemed like there must be a coven on every street corner. The problem with all these claims was that not one shred of evidence and not one skeleton of a sacrificed baby was ever discovered, though law-enforcement agencies regularly receive “education” on the insidious cult influences in our schools and neighborhoods. Of course, that’s exactly what Satan would
want
us to believe, right?

My research naturally went to the Internet, where I found the organized
Church of Satan
is as scrubbed-up and orderly as any Christian denomination, more intent on selling you marked-up regalia and ceremonial talismans than encouraging evil intent. The core principle is selfishness, perhaps not so different from many other organized belief systems that celebrate the system above the ideal.

And Julia Stone is a victim of this selfishness, rebuilding her life and her past after her father disappeared and she was injured during a long-ago night of chants, fire, and people in hoods. Now the past has followed her to the peaceful town of Elkwood, where a mutilated body turns up in a local river. Someone knows about her past and is leaving taunting and cruel clues around her house. Her lawyer boyfriend is turning violent and the local handyman seems all too eager to share his religious views. Then Julia discovers children’s bones under her house, the ring closes in, and the chase is on through the Appalachian wilderness, where even nature seems to be on Satan’s side.

Julia Stone will remember, whether it ever happened or not.

###

THE SKULL RING: The Screenplay

Copyright ©2007 Scott Nicholson

WGAw Registration #855718

GLOSSARY OF SCRIPT TERMS:

Cut
:  Quick transition between scenes.

Smash Cut
:  Forced, jarring transition between scenes

Fade
:  Slow transition between scenes, often indicates time lapse

INT
.:  Interior scene

V.O
.:  Voice-over

O.S
.:  Off screen, but the action or dialogue is occurring in the scene

EXT
:  Exterior scene

CONT’D
:  The same character continues speaking.

POV
:  Camera angle from a single character’s point of view

Beat
:  A pause, usually in dialogue.

Want to play casting director? Email [email protected] with “Skull Ring movie” in the subject line and your actor suggestions will be posted and credited on the
Skull Ring movie page

THE SKULL RING: THE SCREENPLAY

FADE IN:

Over black, distant WHISPERS or what might be the flickering of FIRE. The sound builds to chants. Faint red, yellow, and white images flicker in and out. Over the images comes the voice of DR. PAMELA FORREST as chants fade to background.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

What did you dream?

No answer. The images flicker.

DR. FORREST (V.O., CONT'D)

Julia?

JULIA STONE finally answers.

JULIA (V.O.)

Oh, sorry.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

You seem a little distracted today. What are you thinking about?

JULIA (V.O.)

I had an episode.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

(displeased)

Episode.

Fire flickers a split second longer each time. The chants are chaotic.

JULIA

This morning. I thought I'd locked my front door, but then I found it open.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

Open?

JULIA (V.O.)

Well, not open, just unlocked.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

Do you remember locking the door?

JULIA (V.O.)

I think so.

More fire, crackling and spitting and roaring, chants are building.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

Thinking is not enough, Julia. You have to know.

JULIA (V.O.)

Maybe I forgot. That I locked it, I mean.

DR. FORREST (V.O.)

And how did that make you feel?

On Dr. Forrest's question, the fire SWELLS in intensity, the chants SOAR to a crescendo, and—

CUT TO:

INT. DR. FORREST'S OFFICE- MORNING.