Mumma's House

by Ike Hamill

  He slowed as he approached the kitchen. The light over the little table was on and a shadow moved on the far wall. For a second, he expected to see his mother, Mumma Claire, sitting there. Of course it wasn’t her. She had been dead for nearly thirty years. Auggie barely remembered her.

  There had been a time though. He remembered shuffling across the kitchen in winter pajamas that buttoned up to his neck and had feet at the bottom. His mother had been sitting at the little kitchen table, working a jigsaw puzzle that was mounted to a cork board so she could move it around.

  Auggie shook his head. That memory couldn’t be real—back then his mother had only left her room once a year.

  Tonight, it was Aunt Allison sitting at the table. She was playing solitaire with a deck of cards. There wasn’t a jigsaw puzzle in sight. She spotted Auggie and waved the jack of spades at him.

  After returning her wave, Auggie turned for the cellar door. He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back.

  “Did Mumma Claire ever sit out here?”

  Allison nodded. “Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she would come out of her room and bring her jigsaw puzzle into the kitchen. She said that the light out here helped her see things better.”

  “I thought she didn’t leave her room.”

  “Normally, she didn’t, but with everyone asleep, sometimes the house goes to sleep as well. That was the only time she would risk it.”

  Auggie nodded and opened the door.

  On the way down the stairs, he hoped that the house was asleep tonight. That was wishful thinking—nobody was asleep tonight.

  # # # #

  The stone walls and dirt floor absorbed the yellow light from the hanging bulbs. The cellar had no windows, so there was no reason that it should seem darker at night than during the day. There was no reason, but it was true. Auggie could tell it was night and he could tell that the snow was banked against the south wall of the house, getting deeper every moment. The cellar was a shadowy cave that was clearly the den of some horrifying predator.

  Auggie scanned the walls.

  He was looking for a ladder. If the kids had seen it, then it couldn’t be that well hidden. There was a stepladder leaning against the foundation, but it was certainly nothing that would lead up to the second floor.

  Auggie put his hands on his hips and then nearly jumped when the furnace turned on. It rumbled for a few seconds before the burner ignited and then it settled into a throaty roar. The thing only ran for a few seconds. The radiators in the house were old and dusty. They barely transferred any heat to the rooms before the water returned to the furnace to be heated again.

  Auggie shook his head and tried to focus. He sank down into a crouch, trying to see the world from a child’s point of view. Why would they have found a ladder that he hadn’t seen?

  Auggie let his eyes slip shut.

  He imagined the cellar with wire shelves that held boxes of Ball jars. For a while, Trudy and June had been into canning. Maine gardens were productive, but they tended to burst forth with everything all at once. If Trudy and June hadn’t canned their excess vegetables, they would have gone to waste.

  Auggie opened his eyes again. That memory wasn’t helping him. The girls hadn’t kept their jars in the cellar for long. After one year, they had decided to store everything in the milk shed. Something in the cellar had been making the jars crack. Uncle Tommy suggested that it was because they were too near to the furnace. He said that the heat coming off the boiler would make glass crack.

  As an adult, Auggie didn’t buy that explanation. The girls practically boiled the glass jars and they never cracked in the kitchen. Uncle Tommy had been upset when Trudy had set up the wire shelves down there. Maybe he had been angry that she had covered something in the floor that he needed access to.

  Auggie stood and walked closer to the furnace. He blocked the light with his body so he could see the shadows better. There were marks on the floor. Parallel lines led over to where the stepladder rested.

  With an epiphany, Auggie looked up. The kids had moved the ladder—what were they trying to reach?

  For several seconds, it didn’t look like anything. Between the thick old joists, the bottoms of the floorboards were lost in the shadows. There was one spot where there weren’t any cobwebs shimmering in the light.

  Auggie reached up. His hand didn’t hit anything. In one spot there were no floorboards above him. He practically lunged for the stepladder.

  After setting it up and banging his head on the pipes, Auggie found the space between the joists. There was a shaft leading up and a ladder mounted to the side.

  Auggie climbed

  When he was at the top of the step ladder, reaching one foot up to find the lowest rung in the shaft, the lights below went out. Auggie froze.

  In the darkness something cold clamped around his ankle.

  Chapter 21 : Jules

  JULES CLICKED ON THE light once more.

  There was nothing outside in the falling snow. He didn’t see any footprints and certainly nobody moving towards the glittering shape of Uncle Tommy’s truck as it was buried in snow.

  “Fuck this,” Jules whispered as he clicked off his light.

  He stood and stretched and then shook off the cold that was trying to settle into his bones. He tilted his head from side to side to stretch his neck as he yawned and headed for the door.

  Kate was sitting in the hall with her back against the door to their room. She looked liked she was nodding off. Jules gave her a wave as he passed.

  She whispered, “Can you close that?”

  Jules reached around and shut the door. He understood as the door clicked home. There was only one dim light on in June’s room and it looked like she was trying to take a nap. Jules passed through the room as quietly as he could. Music bled from Gus’s headphones. Jules picked up the rhythm as he climbed the stairs.

  He heard the tapping before he even reached the wing hall.

  The source of the noise was surprising.

  “Where’s Auggie? He said he was going to come up here,” Jules said to Henry.

  “He asked me to take over. He went down in the cellar to look for a ladder.”

  It took a moment for that to sink in. Jules’s eyes went wide.

  “He went in the cellar? Alone?”

  Jules started to back away.

  “Hey, wait,” Henry said. He pointed at the door. “A minute ago, I thought I heard something click. I think this door might be unlocked.”

  “Hold tight,” Jules said, putting out a hand as he continued to back away.

  “Just stay here for a second. I want to see…” Henry started.

  Jules shook his head and ran back down the hall. Auggie was either being forgetful or stupid. Jules rushed down the stairs, forgetting to be quiet. June didn’t even stir as he hurried through her room.

  Kate jumped back as Jules came through.

  “Everything okay?” she asked as he stepped around her.

  Jules nodded and waved—he didn’t want to worry her. She had to stay with the kids.

  In the kitchen, Allison waved to him with the jack of spades.

  “Auggie go down there?” Jules asked, pointing to the cellar door.

  “Ayuh,” Allison said. When he was trying to be funny, that was the way that Auggie would answer any question.

  “Seriously,” Jules said. “Did he go down there?”

  “Ayuh,” Allison said again, imitating Auggie.

  Jules rolled his eyes.

  “You think he would know better,” Jules whispered as he opened the door. The dusty, humid old smell of the cellar was enough to trigger his memory. He couldn’t imagine why Auggie had gone down there.

  The lights were off even though the switch was up. Jules flipped it on and off but nothing happened. He cursed himself for not keeping the flashlight from the drawing room.

  “Auggie?” he called down the stairs. There was no sound except for the rumble of the furnace. />
  Jules took a breath and then glanced over his shoulder. Allison was staring down at her cards. The drawer next to the fridge had an old flashlight. Jules was almost surprised when the bulb came on. It flickered when he focused the beam, but it was bright enough. He went back to the stairs.

  Jules didn’t allow himself to hesitate.

  # # # #

  Jules started down the stairs. All he could think about was the lake.

  At one point, when they were kids, Auggie had befriended a kid named Jordan over in Kingston Lakes. The kid’s family was rich by local standards. They had a house over in Lewiston, where they lived during the school year, and a camp right on the lake.

  Jordan’s dad was super mellow. He let Jordan take out the family’s big boat any time he wanted to. Sometimes Jordan and Auggie would even let Jules tag along when they went out on the lake to go fishing or when they would go down the lake to jump off the snowmobile bridge.

  When Auggie drove the boat, he was downright reckless. No matter how much chop the boat encountered out on the lake, Auggie would push the engine to full throttle and bounce through it. Jordan tried to pretend that it didn’t bother him, but he would always move to the passenger’s seat, behind the windshield when Auggie was ripping through the wind.

  Regardless of how rough the water was, Jules would sit right on the bow of the boat, bouncing up and down as the boat beneath him rattled.

  One time, when Auggie was swimming, Jordan had turned to Jules.

  “You should be careful. People fall off the front of boats sometimes,” Jordan said.

  “It will be okay,” Jules had said.

  “You really trust him, huh,” Jordan said.

  Jules remembered how he had shaken his head at the idea.

  “I don’t have to trust him,” Jules said. “He’s my brother.”

  As he swept his flashlight around the cellar, Jules felt those same words on his lips. He didn’t have to trust Auggie, and Auggie didn’t have to trust him. They were brothers. Regardless of the danger that they faced, their relationship ran deeper than trust.

  Jules spotted the stepladder and a foot stepping up off the top step as Auggie disappeared up into a hole in the ceiling.

  When Jules stepped down off the stairs, onto the dirt floor, his flashlight went off.

  He heard Auggie’s wordless shout.

  Chapter 22 : Kate

  AS JULES STEPPED PAST her, she could see that he was worried about something. The brothers shared some amount of body language. They both had a particular way of walking when they were anxious.

  Kate straightened up.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  He waved her off and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She held her breath as she listened. Even though his words were unclear, she heard the frustration in Jules’s questions. Kate didn’t know who he was talking to. The conversation didn’t take long. After a quick exchange, Jules stormed off. Kate was alone with her thoughts again.

  Behind one door, her kids were trying to sleep. Behind the other, her sister-in-law and nephew were resting. Kate felt like the gatekeeper. Her eyelids were heavy, wanting to close. She kept them open, knowing what she would imagine if she let her eyes close again.

  Every time they shut, she imagined the same thing—welding. Even though she was a half-decent welder, the process frustrated her. Once everything was lined up—she had good ground, the surfaces were properly scuffed, and the machine was ready to go—as soon as she pulled that trigger, she would be in the dark. The instant that the blue-white sparks sprang from her work, her helmet would engage and turn the world black. Her eyes would be left searching for clues as to what was happening in the weld. Only when the joint was complete and she let go of the trigger would she see the result.

  It was a pure leap of faith. She had to trust the process and trust her hands to carry it out.

  Kate held her breath again and narrowed her eyes at a sound from the end of the long hall. She heard a scrape, like chair legs sliding back against a hard floor. Then, a flicker of movement caught her eye. It was on the left side of the doorframe. Jules had exited to the right.

  Down at foot level, only a couple of inches above the floor, she saw something small flit around the corner and then disappear again. Kate leaned forward and squinted harder. For the second time that night, she thought about that prescription that was at home in her dresser. Technically, her distance vision was supposed to be fine. She wondered how fine it could be as the shape started moving around the corner again.

  Just above the floor, edging past the corner of the doorframe, she saw a soft halo of fine hair. Dimly lit from behind, Kate still recognized it. That had to be a baby’s hair. She pushed away from the wall, ready to get up.

  The baby’s forehead peeked around the corner at the end of the long hall. What stopped Kate was the eye. This wasn’t the wide-open, filled-with-wonder eye of a crawling baby. This eye sparkled with wicked mischief and it was staring right at her. The rest of the baby’s head came into view and Kate’s hand went to her heart, like she could stop it from hammering in her chest by covering it with her palm.

  The baby’s toothless smile stretched way too wide.

  It wasn’t the type of mouth that would pucker up to suckle. Despite the lack of teeth, the baby’s mouth looked like it was ready to open wide for some meat.

  Kate’s breath came in short bursts. Her head swam as she struggled for air.

  The baby’s hand came around the doorframe, gripping at the wood. Even at her distance, she could see that its long fingernails were sharpened to points. As if to test their sharpness, the baby tapped a fingernail three times on the molding. With each tap, the nail sank a little deeper.

  Kate’s legs stiffened, driving her back into the wall.

  The baby was using its terrible hand, with its sharp claws, to pull itself around the corner. Its eyes were fixed on her.

  Chapter 23 : Gus

  THE MUSIC WAS STILL playing in his ears when Gus opened his eyes. The room was dim—only the light over near their little fridge was on. This was a weekend view of their house. Gus never fell asleep in the big chair on a school night. His mom wouldn’t allow it. Sometimes, when she was watching a movie and he was listening to his music, he fell asleep in the big chair and woke up with a crooked neck.

  He smiled until he remembered what day it was.

  They had gone to the ceremony, but it hadn’t happened. Usually, after the ceremony was over, he felt a giant weight lifted from his shoulders. His duty was done for another year and it would be centuries before he had to worry about that again. The stress of the whole thing faded fast on New Year’s Day. It was such a hard thing to go through, but so easy to forget.

  Not this year.

  His mother had short-circuited the process with her claim. They hadn’t done any of the hard work of the ceremony, only deferred it to later in the night. That weight still pressed down on Gus.

  His mother was stretched out on the futon. She was relaxing, but not asleep. He could tell by the way she was flat on her back. His mother never slept that way. She always turned to one side or the other, depending on how much her arm hurt that day. Flat on her back meant that she would open her eyes at any second and they would have to get back to work.

  Gus tried to close his eyes.

  The least he could do was take advantage of this quiet time.

  They wouldn’t stay closed.

  He shut off his music and shed his headphones with a sigh.

  He blinked as he looked at his mom.

  Gus remembered a sunny day, when he had been a little kid and the grass had tried to eat his mother. He remembered how she had sunk into it, like it was quicksand.

  It was happening again, but it wasn’t the grass that was trying to suck her down, it was the futon. Even in the dim light, he could see the fibers of the mattress, growing up around her like some foreign mold.

  “Muh,” he tried to say. His throat was
so tight and dry that he couldn’t form the word.

  Gus tried to reach forward, but the muscles of his arm were paralyzed too.

  The blanket slipped down from the back of the futon and pooled next to his mother. As he watched, one corner of the blanket began to creep up over her arm. She kept her eyes closed as she shrugged away from the feel of the blanket. The thing was persistent. The corner of the blanket slithered up towards her face, getting ready to strike. It was either going to wrap around her neck or simply smother her mouth and nose. Gus knew it.

  “Mom,” he finally was able to croak.

  She didn’t respond.

  His mother was sinking as the futon grew up around her. The fibers must have tickled her hand because she moved it from her side and put it up on her stomach.

  “Mom,” Gus whispered. He focused all his attention on his own hand until he was able to make it move. When he looked back to his mother, he saw that the blanket had gone for her neck. She didn’t seem to feel it as it slowly slithered across her windpipe.

  Gus broke free of his own chair suddenly and was able to yell.

  “MOM! Get up!” he shouted from the edge of the big chair.

  June’s eyes flew open and she tried to sit up.

  The blanket wound around her neck as the futon’s fibers tightened their grip. She was being pulled down and strangled. One of her hands was pulled down by the futon. The other had been across her stomach. She reached up as Gus climbed over the coffee table and grabbed her hand.

  “Mom!” he screamed.

  Her response was a gag as the blanket pulled tight.

  Chapter 24 : Henry

  HENRY’S HAND SLOWED UNTIL he was only tapping on the door every few seconds. He paused to massage the tendon in his arm. In that break, he heard the faint sound of a scream through the door.