by C. K. Walker
I had been wrong. So wrong. I needed to get out of here. I ran at the front door and turned the handle desperately, my stomach dropping when I found it locked. I ran down the hall, through the living room, and into the kitchen, pulling on the backdoor and screaming in frustration when it wouldn't open either.
"Where ya goin? He he he." I heard from the living room. The dolls. Jesus, the dolls. I stumbled back into the room which was now lit by a single tall, black lamp in the corner. There was a doll lying on the floor in the middle of the room that hadn't been there before.
Knowing my fate was probably already sealed, I walked over and picked her up off the floor. Her head hung limp behind her as any dolls' would.
"What did you say to me?" I breathed.
Nothing.
"What the fuck did you say to me?!" I demanded as I shook the doll, my sanity quickly slipping away.
The doll slowly picked its head up and smiled, breaking the stitching on its mouth.
"You're never leaving, Jamie. You're going to be just like me.”
I screamed and threw the doll against the wall. The lamp went out then and I heard the doll run off into the darkness.
I put my head between my knees breathing hard now. I couldn't catch my breath. This house was draining me, it was sucking the life from me, just like the rest of the town. I was so tired.
I walked out into the hallway to make my way to the foyer again to try the door. The windows on the house were barred, it was my only chance. As I turned the corner in the hallway I fell back against the wall, dropping my Canon. A sheeted mannequin was standing in the middle of the hallway, 15 feet away.
Tears poured down my face as I noticed for the first time that this mannequin had legs - and feet. Another doll. It was another doll. A human sized doll.
Not knowing what else to do, I bent down and picked up my Canon and then slowly raised the shaking camera to my eye, peering through the viewfinder. I snapped the picture and when I lowered it again, I screamed. It was now right in front of me, the doll, and it mumbling something unintelligible from under the sheet.
I ran. I ran for my life, down the hall and this time, I had no reflection in the mirror. I didn't even want to think about where my reflection was right then. As I took the stairs two at a time, I heard whatever was on the basement stairs take another step up - it had to be nearly at the top.
I ran into the master bedroom and slammed the door, then sunk down to floor and beat my fists against it, screaming. I had such sever muscle weakness at this point, I could barely move. How was I ever going to escape this place? Was I going to die here from a horrible death? I raised my head to look out the window for my car. I finally saw it - in the darkness - at the end of the street. I leaned back against the door, weak and sick and I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.
When I awoke again, I realized I wasn’t safe and sound back home like I’d been dreaming but laying on the bed in the nightmare house. And something was sitting on me, weighing me down. I shot up and noticed I had been tucked under the covers and the entire quilt on top of me was covered in little dolls. They were so many of them trapping me there, all looking in my direction. But the worst was at the end of the bed. There, leaning toward me over the footboard, was a mannequin. But I now knew it wasn't a mannequin - it was a doll. And it was mumbling at me angrily.
I gasped as the sheet slowly started to slip off the mannequin and I fell out of bed onto the floor. I heard the dolls giggling as I clawed my way out of the room. I didn't know where to go. With the windows barred and the doors locked the only way out seemed to be the small port window in the attic which I wasn’t even sure I could fit my body through. I dragged myself to the attic door and tried the lock, hoping maybe, just maybe, the lock had switched on this door as well. It had. I slammed the door open and flew up the stairs.
I crawled up the last step into the attic and turned toward the window. My heart fell into the floor. Oh, there was the port window, sure enough, and I might just have been able to squeeze through it, too. But between it and I was a sea of doll, both small and large. They sat and stood in two rows, facing each other. There had to be hundreds of them. I screamed in terrified frustration and in perfect unison every head turned to look at me. I recoiled in horror and fell down the attic stairs, hitting the second floor with a hard thud.
The typewriter was clicking away again, but I didn’t want to know what it was typing. I pushed myself up and shuffled down the stairs. There had to be another way out; I wouldn't die here, I couldn't.
When I got to the bottom of the staircase, I turned to face the fun house mirror in the foyer. It was half a second behind me again. I watched it, mesmerized, in a trace, hoping to learn its secrets. A pale, thin face that I didn’t recognize stared blankly back at me. I had changed in the few hours I had been here; I looked like a corpse.
Suddenly I heard a loud knocking on the basement door behind me. The thing had reached the top of the stairs.
I spun toward the basement door and fell to my knees in my weakened state. I happened to glance under my arm as I stood up and saw that my reflection had remained standing and facing me. I turned back to the mirror but by the time I did, it was just a half second behind me again. I leaned forward toward the mirror watching it take a moment to follow. I blinked, but this time when I opened my eyes, its eyes were open as well. My reflection suddenly sneered at me and slammed the glass with its fist from the other side. The mirror cracked like a spider web and I stumbled back in terror falling through the basement door that now stood open.
I felt every jolt and bump and crack as I tumbled down the stairs and when my body finally came to rest at the bottom, it was in agony. I raised my head up just in time to see the basement door slam shut at the top of the stairs leaving me in utter darkness. And then I saw no more.
This time when I came to the room was well lit. I was lying on a concrete floor, on a dirty, beige sheet. I tried to lift myself up but my arms gave out when I saw the dozen covered mannequins standing around me. They were facing a large portrait which hung on the wall. I used strength I’d thought long depleted to stand and walk to the portrait. It was absolutely entrancing.
The portrait was of a woman but it was painted to look like a mirrored reflection of the room I was standing in, dolls and all. In the middle of the painting stood a tall, dark haired solemn woman in a maroon dress. She looked almost familiar to me. No, she was familiar to me. I had seen her in town as a child, I was sure of it. But that didn’t make sense because the woman was dressed like a 17th century noble.
I leaned closer to study her face. The lady in the painting has less wrinkles than the woman I remember, but she had those same dark-brown, angry eyes.
The portrait blinked. I fell backwards, into a mannequin which somehow managed not to fall over. It had regained its own balance. This must be one of the ones with feet. I looked around the room. They all had feet.
As my body began to shake I turned back to the painting and watched the woman's face slowly curl into a smile.
"Stay away from me!" I screamed at it and ran for the stairs. I pushed my way through the mannequins, feeling their hands grab at my shirt, trying to pull me back.
I took the stairs three at a time and when I reached the top, I threw the door open and slammed it behind me. My reflection was still standing in the middle of the mirror, unmoving except for its eyes, which watched me with quiet ire. I couldn’t get out the front door, but maybe there was one other way out.
I dragged myself into the library and grabbed the first chair I stumbled into. Running back to the foyer, I raised the chair to throw into the mirror. In the half-second pause it hung over my head, I heard feet: little pitter-patters and loud human-sized steps running down the staircase to my right and up the basement steps behind me. I could see them coming out of the corner of my eye but dared not look.
I threw the chair full force against the mirror as my reflection continued to sneer at me. It shattered and reve
aled a hole, a black abyss on the other side. Running on pure adrenaline, I pushed myself into it. I heard the dolls follow but I ran and ran in the dark - for hours it seemed - until I finally tripped over something and fell.
I listened for footsteps. Silence.
Looking up, I saw I was in the woods next to the house. It was dark outside and there was nothing behind me or around me. I had no idea where I'd just come from. I could see the house just behind me, it sat quiet and serene - but I knew better.
Gaining my feet, I kept running. I fell several times almost succumbing to the darkness before I pulled myself back up. I kept moving down the road, desperate to find my car. When I finally saw it on the moonlit horizon, I pulled the keys from my pocket and all but fell into the driver’s seat.
Not wasting a moment, I started the car and peeled off down the street. I drove as fast as I could out of Keeling, twice slamming on the brakes when I thought I saw a sheet-covered mannequin in my rear-view mirror.
I never returned to Keeling, or Missouri for that matter. At least, not physically... Even though my body escaped, I never actually did. I'm still there. Every time I dream - or even close my eyes - I am back there, running from room to room. The dolls find new ways to surprise and terrify me every night. If I daydream, it is the same. I am only a hollowed shell of who I was. My consciousness and my body are here but my soul is trapped in Keeling.
In case you're wondering, I escaped with my Canon around my neck but the pictures were all empty, as black as the hole that was Keeling on the satellite images.
Sometimes even after I wake up in the night, I see a mannequin in the corner of my room. I know I'm in California, but I'm also in Keeling, in that house, at the same time. I have been condemned to it and a part of me lives there. Whatever the house's fate, it is my fate as well.
Every night in my dreams the dolls try to pull me back into that basement. So far, I have resisted, but I can't hide forever. Someday, they will drag me back into the black abyss. And what awaits me there, I do not know.
COPPER CANYON
SATURDAY
07-23-2011
Transcript of call from witness R.L.
1:20 p.m.
Dispatcher: 911, what’s your emergency?
Caller R.L.: I need to report an accident. Somebody- a car just went over the barrier on the I-17. Northbound.
Dispatcher: Sir, do you see a mile marker?
Caller R.L.: Yeah, we're, ah, we're outside of Camp Verde in Copper Canyon. I'm walking towards the mile marker. There’s- it looks like 282.
Dispatcher: How many vehicles are involved?
Caller R.L. I think it's- oh fuck, did you hear that? Whatever ran off the cliff just exploded. There's smoke coming up over the side of the mountain.
Dispatcher: We’ve got someone on the way.
07-23-2011
Transcript of call from witness D.W.
1:22 p.m.
Dispatcher: Yavapai County 911, what's the emergency?
Caller D.W.: Yeah, an SUV just went over the cliff. The car is on fire and there are people screaming. It’s…it’s fucking chaos out here.
Dispatcher: Is this Northbound 17 just south of...Camp Verde?
Caller D.W.: Yes. People are trying to get down the cliff.
Dispatcher: Can you see any injuries, ma’am?
Caller D.W.: Yes, there's people, there's [inaudible] in the ravine outside the car. There's, oh my god, there's kids. There's kids and an adult. A woman, I think.
Dispatcher: Is anyone injured?
Caller D.W.: No, they're all dead.
FRIDAY
I leaned back against my truck and took a few deep drags of my cigarette before snubbing it out on the tire and flicking it under the car next to me. Stella should be pulling up with the kids any minute and she'd flip her shit if she saw me smoking.
As I watched for headlights coming around the corner of the hotel parking lot I popped a breath mint and took a swig of water. Phoenix was hot in July - oppressively hot. And even though the sun was almost down I knew I couldn't last out here much longer.
While it was a nice escape from my frigid hometown of Flagstaff in the winter, Phoenix left much to be desired in the summertime. I tried to come down as infrequently as possible during the during the summer months but sometimes work made that impossible. I always hated leaving the mountains. Even though the valley was only two and a half hours away from Flag, it may as well have been a thousand miles. My small, mountain town and the sprawling, desert city might as well be different countries all together.
I saw the headlights of Stella's silver Mazda peek around the corner of the building and I pushed myself off the truck.
She pulled into a nearby space and I smiled as I went to greet her. I could tell by the look on her face when she got out that she was worn down.
"How was the drive?" I asked her as I opened the back door to let Aiden and Wyatt out.
"Long. You know I hate that drive, I don't know how you do it so often."
I laughed. "Well that's what I get paid for. A necessary evil to keep my family living in luxury."
"Dad, do I have to go tonight?" Aiden yelled from the trunk of the car where he was trying, in vain, to pull his overnight bag out of the jostled mess of luggage.
"What you don't like dressing up?"
He made a face at me. "I hate it. Plus there's not gonna be other kids there."
"That's not true; Dani and Paul's kids will be there."
"They're girls, they don't count."
"You'll have your brother."
"Daaaaad, he's only three."
"Aiden!" Stella yelled as she propped the door into the hotel open. "Quit complaining and get your brother inside. What's the room number, Matt?"
"323. Door's open."
Aiden took his brother's hand and walked him inside and down the hall. When Stella and I were alone, I eyed the trunk with confusion.
"Why so many bags? You know we're only here for tonight, right?"
"Yes, Matt, I know that." Stella rubbed her temples.
"You feeling okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."
"This heat probably isn't helping either. Do you want to go inside? I'll get the bags."
"No, I’ll help. Have you seen Dani and Paul yet this week?"
"Not yet. They've been busy."
Dani and Paul were very close friends of my wife and I. The only reason Stella and kids were even in Phoenix was to attend their tenth anniversary dinner this evening. I’d been here all week working on campus.
As much as I loved our friends I couldn’t wait to depart in the morning for higher elevations and cooler temperatures – even with Dani and Paul's three daughters in tow. Stella had graciously offered to watch their kids while they spent the next week in Mexico.
"Do you have an Excedrin, hon?"
"Inside. Is your head hurting again?" I asked.
"Just a bit."
"You've been tired and nauseous a lot in the past few days, Stel. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. I've just been getting a lot of headaches lately."
SATURDAY
07-23-2011
Eyewitness account of K.B.
10:23 a.m.
I don't know why I noticed it, maybe just because it was sitting there for so long. It was a blue suburban - 2009 or 2010 model maybe? – and it was parked on the side of the highway outside of New River just idling. I had to take multiple trips in and out of New River that morning for work and that truck probably sat there for 25 minutes. It barely fit on the shoulder even though it was parked right up next to the guard rail. It was definitely a road hazard. I was planning to check on the car the next time I went out but by the time I got back it was gone.
07-23-2011
Eyewitness account of L.L.
11:01 a.m.
I was in the far right lane getting off of Northbound 17 at Exit 144 in Black Canyon City. This blue suburban suddenly merges over two lanes and cuts me
off. It was so sudden that I was surprised it didn't roll. I got pretty angry and laid on my horn. I was going to pull up next to the truck at the stop sign but I saw little kids in the car so I just kept driving. The woman in the driver’s seat didn't even look at me. She looked so dazed - I'm not even sure she heard my horn.
FRIDAY
"You look amazing, Stel."
My wife, after 8 years of marriage, was still one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Not that she believed it, of course; in fact I was pretty sure she never had.
Stella was a few years older me and I knew that had always bothered her. When I first met my wife she was a quiet, nervous girl who still lived at home with her parents. We met at an engagement party for a mutual friend and I used the next few months to slowly nudge her out of her shell. It didn't take me long to realize that Stella was already in love with me by the time I'd formally met her. I married my wife a year later and got her pregnant immediately. Stella was over the moon, all she’d ever wanted was to be a mother. She told me the day of Aiden’s birth was the happiest day of her life.
Maybe that's what she needs, I mused as I watched my wife lather her arms with hotel supplied vanilla scented lotion. Maybe another baby would make her happy again.
Stella had fallen into a sort of depression in the last year and refused to go to the doctor. I did the best I could to make the good times great and the bad times more tolerable for her.
“Did you hear me, babe? You look stunning.”
"I'm glad you still think that," she said without looking at me.
"You know I've always thought that."
Stella finally looked away from the mirror and gave me an impish smirk. "Would be nice if you showed me....physically, more often." She winked.