They Never Stop Coming
Norma’s house is surrounded by zombies, and even though she blasts them to pieces with her shotgun, they seem to never stop coming. She is encouraged by the way the bones burn on her bonfire, however. Perhaps incinerating zombie remains is a way of getting rid of them altogether.
These dead wielders of the dark arts are more powerful now than when they were alive. The soil has nurtured them, made them stronger. This vigor translates into autonomy from the draug. They are the slowest of their kind, and therefore the most dangerous. Like the great predators, they take their time, digging up their brothers, summoning their leaders, preparing rituals for their ancient gods. Some of these rituals you will indeed have to complete in order to destroy. Others you must not dare.
Norma recalls a series of murders in the summer of 2002. She never believed the story served up by the news, and says the real culprit wasn’t even human.
As Norma suggested, I headed over to the Kingsmouth Courthouse to dig through the archives and found this newspaper clipping:
Went to talk to the Sheriff who let me look through the computer where I found this entry regarding the suspect Larry Checkon:
==== File NO. 2002-166 ==== SOLOMON COUNTRY POLICE DEPARTMENT NO. 2002-166 (CLOSED) Subject: Death of suspect CHECKON, LARRY in custody Alone with suspect at 1AM. Went over his full written confession for -REDACTED- Multiple inconsistencies with his story and events including -REDACTED- "You ask my ghost for the truth, Sheriff." Checkon took his own life in his cell between hours of 4 and 5 AM. Discovered at 7AM, scene already -REDACTED- all outstanding work on investigation to be closed.
I went to examine the cell but it was locked and the sheriff didn’t have the key. So I summoned the power of the bees and killed myself. As I was returning to my body I noticed that in the afterlife, the cell door was open and I saw something scrawled on the wall.
I Can Not Die!
Outside of the sheriff’s office I saw a white raven. Following it led me to the Wispwood where I encountered the true killer of those 3 girls that warm night back in 2002, Jack the Lad.
What interests us is not Kingsmouth's inclination to murder and the occult, but its failed attempts to cover them up. It suggests a town that cannot bear what it is, and is therefore destined - and desperate - to tear itself apart. The history of Jack stretches back to the great famine in the west. It is a tale of a boy becoming what he was not. If it is meant to, the story will reveal itself to you in full. As will Jack himself. Meanwhile, continue to seize Kingsmouth by the buried hairs of its history. The past cannot hide forever.