Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6
Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6
Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6
Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6
Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6
Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6

Brutal Lessons: Haunted Village Series Book 6

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Subject B is about to learn a new lesson in terror…

Marcus Holt survived the Vietnam War. But his greatest battle has only just began. Kidnapped by the sadistic Professor Abel Worthe, the retired soldier is forced to take part in a diabolical experiment. Now known as Subject B, Marcus is trapped in a haunted village, where he must survive one terrifying ordeal after another. All so Worthe can discover just how much fear one man can survive…

When the insane professor imprisons a former employee in the haunted village, the terrified young man joins forces with Marcus and the others. As the group navigates the remains of a rotting old schoolhouse, they are stalked by the vengeful spirit of its former headmaster. This blood-thirsty ghost is forever bound to an old wooden cane… a weapon he uses to beat people to death.

Marcus must call upon all his strength and courage to survive this new threat, and unravel a secret that links his fate to the diabolical Professor Worthe. But when another survivor develops the terrifying power to see the dead, they soon find themselves faced with a new mystery…

Is this chilling psychic ability a blessing? Or a deadly curse in disguise?



Chapter 37: Daylight Patrol

Hal Charles stepped into the Village and felt an unpleasant tingling sensation race across his skin. Something was wrong in the professor’s collection of houses, and everyone could feel it.

His team, which was doubled to six members, spread out in a loose formation behind him. The morning sun hung above the tree line, and smoke drifted up from 114 Broad’s chimney.

Other than the curling, dissipating smoke, nothing moved.

“This is bad,” Hal muttered.

“Say again?” David asked on the other end of the comm.

“Something’s not right, David,” Hal said, looking from left to right. “The whole place feels wrong.”

“I copy,” David replied. “Move out and keep it tight. All watchtowers are cleared weapons hot and will cover your withdrawal if necessary.”

“Copy. Out.” Hal motioned for his team to tighten up, and together they walked down the cobblestone street. The group moved with ease through the snow drifts, covering one another as they did so.

There was no sign of the dead Indians, or even of the subjects in 114 Broad.

The Village was still.

They passed by the clock, which showed it to be almost nine. Ahead of them stood the chapel. The tips of headstones protruded from snowdrifts, and the newest structure, the schoolhouse, stood out obscenely against the white snow.

The door to the school was open, the schoolmaster standing within the doorway.

He was a frightening apparition, and for the first time since his arrival at the compound six months earlier, Hal felt fear.

The dead man was a killer, which was no different than any of the others the professor had brought in. But this one watched them eagerly.

“Keep your distance from the schoolhouse,” Hal said. “Word is he went as far as the chapel the other night. We don’t need any casualties today.”

His team came back with affirmatives.

They reached the small graveyard and stepped into the heavier snow. Movement became difficult, and Hal thought, We should have snowshoes for this part.

But not everyone was rated for snowshoe work, and firing a weapon while burdened with them was no easy task.

“Single file,” Hal said. “Bill, take point. Abby, bring up the rear. We’ll rotate as needed.”

Bill, a tall, thick man, took the lead, and Hal stepped into place behind him.

Orders were to reach the far side of the Village, split into two groups and loop back to the gate.

This should be done outside the fence, Hal thought bitterly. What the hell is the professor trying to prove?

Hal had heard David ask for a discontinuation of all patrols, but the professor wanted one in the daylight.

A show of force, Hal thought with a shake of his head. If he thinks Subject B cares about us, the professor’s not as smart as he thinks he is. David knows better.

David was the professor’s man through and through.

“Patrol, this is tower three, copy,” a voice said.

“Go for patrol,” Hal said.

“Patrol, we have movement on your left, two possibly three hostiles. Copy?” the tower asked.

“Tower, we have good copy, moving to engage,” Hal said. He issued the necessary     

The sun was behind the ghosts, and they were difficult to see.

“Keep it tight,” Hal said to his team. “We’re going through them. Everyone, living and dead, needs to know we still run the Village.”

Stupid, Hal thought angrily. We don’t run the Village anymore. This is like a damned prison. We’re just as much prisoners here as the subjects are.

For a moment, he considered ordering Bill to turn back.

Orders are orders, Hal thought and kept his mouth closed.

When Bill was within twenty feet of the dead men, Hal said, “Abby, you speak French, right?”

“Yup,” she replied.

“Tell them to move,” Hal said.

Abby called out in French, and the dead Indians laughed, yelling back to her in the same language.

“Ah, Hal,” she said, a note of nervousness in her voice, “they said we ought to leave now.”

“Yeah, not an option,” Hal said firmly. “Tell ’em I said so.”

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