Purgatory The Final Chapter: The Nether Series

By Beth Lauzier

Over ten years ago she made a promise. Tonight she's keeping it by burning the place to the ground.

When Ripley said she'd burn the house to the ground, Scott didn't really believe her. But a lot has changed over the years. And, when Ripley makes up her mind about something, she does it. She's worked hard and built a life and career her mother would be jealous of. The only thing holding her back now is that damn house and the memories that still live there. If she's to move on and put everything behind her, the house has to go up in flames.

Unfortunately, Clara has other plans…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seriously Awesome Books
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781734784282

Beth Lauzier

Beth Lauzier is an author of YA fantasy, He Loves Me is the first in the I Wish series of magic-realism. When not writing or reading, you might find her trying to convince the local bird population to rise up and do her bidding. A resident of Longview Texas, Beth Lauzier lives with her family and generally avoids the outside world because books are better and it's too people-y out there.

Book preview

Last: coming after all others in time or order; final.

Chapter: a period of time or an episode in a person's life, a nation's history, etc.

Chapter 1

STARING UP AT THE CRUMBLING building, I was shocked. Time hadn’t been kind to the old house. Paint faded and pilling, windows broken, and the yard my mother once spent good money on was now overgrown. The years we’d been gone had done a number on this place.

Picking up a brick from the ruined section of fence, I let the rough texture ground me in the here and now. I’d come a long way to finish this. I wasn’t going to chicken out now. Dropping the brick, I turned and nearly collided with a woman.

Taking a step back, I placed a hand over my heart and forced a smile. Sorry, didn’t see ya there.

The woman was about my age, presumably carrying groceries home judging by the brown paper bags. That’s alright. I’m kind of a sneak anyhow. You need to be, to walk home alone in these times. Her eyes twinkled like we were in on some kind of secret because we were both women. But her expression changed when she turned and looked up to the house. If you’re thinking of doing that house flipping stuff, I’d skip this one. Shaking her head, she hunched down farther in her coat and made the sign of the cross.

Why’s that? An acidic feeling settled in my gut. The hair on the back of my neck stood.

Odd things go on around that house. I think the town should just bulldoze it and put a park there, but what do I know. Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and it sounded like she’d had this conversation with someone else many times before.

I think you’re right. Her face lit up, and she opened her mouth, ready to tell me more things she was right about. But I muttered a goodnight before she could start in on it and went back to the car.

Starting the car, I pulled out the phone and pretended to talk to someone as I watched the rearview mirror. The woman walked away, never once looking back at me, but the feeling of being watched remained.

Leaning over the steering wheel, I thought about all the memories this place held. I left the car running and quickly checked both ways down the block, then went to the gate. Of course, it was locked, but judging by the amount of spray paint and tags covering the front of the house, there was a way inside.

Most people would probably be angry seeing a house they grew up in defaced and decaying. But I thought it funny. Mother spent thousands of dollars and hundreds of man-hours trying to turn a profit, and now it was wasting away. I'm sure there is some deep, poetic insight there. But I was too numb to reflect on it right now.

A promise is a promise. Nothing against you in particular. I patted the old metal gate then went back to the car. Of course, it needed to be moved down the block somewhere. I'd like to get this done without being charged with arson.

I left the lights off and let the car roll four houses down. That should be far enough to keep from getting caught but close enough to make a quick getaway.

Getting out of the car, I pulled off my coat and chunked it in the back seat. I suppressed a shiver as a light breeze blew leaves into the street. The scraping of dead leaves on asphalt was eerie, but I chalked it up to nerves. It’s not every day one plans to commit arson after all.

Popping the trunk, I went for the duffle and gas. This was going to be a fast smash and burn. Shutting the back door as quietly as humanly possible, I walked back to the gate. Thoughts of how to do this had been plaguing me for months. While the house might not burn down fully the first time, I could always come back and finish the job later. 

Setting the gas tank and bag down in the brush, I went back to the car and grabbed the large bag of road salt. Then I walked the whole property and made an unbroken line a foot from the fence. It took two trips back to the car, but all the books I’d read warned of keeping things in, so I made the lines thick, taking extra care with them. I even put some special shiny rocks on each corner of the property for good measure.

Tossing the salt bag over the fence with the others, I picked up the duffle and wrapped the strap over a shoulder. While circling the house, I found where the teens must’ve gotten in. Grabbing the gas can, I walked around the back to where a tree had fallen on the fence knocking a good chunk of the wall over.

Setting the gas can on the tree, I struggled to climb up. The old rotting wood bit into my palms, and my knees protested. Getting older sucks. But doing as my mother always said, I toughened up and did the thing anyway.

It took me two attempts to stand because the duffle offset my balance. I wobbled like a graceless newborn animal, but once I picked up the gas can, it helped equal out some of the instability.

I crept across the fallen tree at a snail’s pace. Even if the fall wouldn’t have hurt, I didn’t want to drop the gas and waste time getting more.

Crossing over into the yard gave me the chills.  The air was at least twenty degrees cooler on this side. That was worrisome. Wishing that woman had never seen me and I could have kept the coat, I placed the gas tank down on the tree then hopped to the ground.

I mentally prepared myself for the protesting of knees, but the ground was spongey and sank about an inch. Stepping to the side, I reached for the gas tank, and the ground shifted under me. Feeling unsettled and disgusted, I took a second to listen. When nothing moved or made a sound, I figured it was safe enough to proceed.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on. It lit up the overgrown yard nicely. After a moment, the light flickered and dimmed. It didn’t go out entirely, but it was nearly useless to see farther than six feet ahead.

There was nothing I could do about the light, so I carefully picked my way through the yard. The grass leveled out at knee-high, and the thought of ticks made me gag. But it was the ground that seemed to move underneath me that set off warning bells.

I kept the light forward, watching my step to make sure I didn’t trip. Of course, dirty needles and broken glass were the least of my worries out here.

A dark silhouette loomed above the fence line, so I swung the dim light to check it out. The ruins of Katie’s playhouse and the shed blocked out some of the night sky and left a small hollow spot in my chest.

Time had taken its toll on both buildings. They were falling apart; prickly vines had taken them over, claiming them in the name of the wild yard.

I'd lied. It wasn't a great feeling seeing this place overgrown and torn down. I had so many good memories of cookouts and playing ball with Scott and Katie. Scott even proposed by the back porch. Facing that way, I was almost heartbroken to see most of the back banister had either rotted away or had been kicked out.

All I had left of this place were the memories. Just moments in time now, but I could hold them forever in my mind. The place wasn't important anyhow. It was the memories that had been made here. Thunder rolled in the distance. The need to finish this and be gone intensified.

Placing a foot on the first step was nerve-racking. The wood groaned and started to give way, but it held, and I went up the step slowly. I cringed as the steps shifted under my weight as if it was deciding whether to keep strong or let me fall through.

Using what little light I had, I scanned the porch for holes and felt that hollow place in my chest open a little wider. Beer cans and spray paint tops littered the porch. Pushing the feeling down, I went to the door. 

Please be unlocked. Twisting the knob, I lightly pushed, and the door swung open. The inside was a mess of rotting leaves and water damage. The musty scent of mold lingered in the air. I gagged.

Taking a step back to get some fresh air, I checked my phone again. Scott still hadn't texted me or even called. That only led me to believe he didn't remember what today was or where I was.

Feeling disappointed, I put the phone back in my pocket and turned the light into the doorway. I'd told him more than once over the years I was going to burn this place to the ground at thirty. I’d jokingly told him bailing me out for arson could be his birthday present to me.

Swallowing down some feeling I didn’t want to put a name to, I readjusted the duffle and stepped inside. Time to burn