by Jenna Lehne
“Henry, no!” I scream.
“See ya later, Murph,” he says in his usual, laid back tone.
Then Henry looks down and jabs the pointed end of the bottle into his eye.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Henry’s cry is thick and guttural. It tears out of him and scrapes the very bottom of my soul. He yanks the bottle out of his eye.
I start to scream. I plunge my hands into the doll piles and crush their skulls in horror. Teddy finally bursts through the door and lunges for Henry. He doesn’t make it in time.
Henry stabs his other eye but this time he doesn’t scream. Blood – thick, chunky blood – pours out of the mangled socket. What’s left of his right eye dangles from the tip of the bottle. The chocolate-brown iris, somehow still intact, watches me.
My scream is cut-off by a surge of bile. I drop to my knees, half crying, half choking.
“Murphy, get me a towel.” Teddy catches Henry’s wavering body. He lowers him to the ground and takes the bottle from Henry’s twitching hand.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I grab a discarded beach towel and throw it to Teddy. There’s so much blood. Way more than I thought could possibly come out of someone’s eyes…or lack thereof. I force the fear threatening to knock me out into the back of my brain and scramble over to Henry. “What do you need me to do?”
“Help me wrap this around his head.” Teddy gently lifts Henry’s head.
I quickly fold the towel and slide it under Henry’s head. I pull it over his oozing sockets and tuck it under his head. Teddy and I focus on tightly wrapping the towel, making sure all the ends are tucked in and Henry’s eyes are completely covered. We pay such good attention to his head that we fail to notice Henry’s chest. His quiet, unmoving chest.
Peyton is huddled in the armchair when we come upstairs. She doesn’t say anything when we walk past her. Her eyes widen and she turns ghostly white, but she doesn’t make a sound.
Henry’s body is bound tightly in a black sheet. Teddy has him slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I shuffle behind them with a rag underneath my feet. The towel we tied around his head soaked up the blood but now it’s dropping, even through the sheet. I drag my cotton-covered feet over the trail of blood splatters and make them disappear. We bring Henry’s body upstairs so he won’t be alone. Teddy lies him next to Hayley. Who knew a king-sized bed could come in handy at a time like this. Again, we leave the loft lights on.
Teddy and I walk down the stairs, hand in hand. Something tickles my face, like the hot breath of a whisper. I brush my fingers over my cheekbone. They come back wet. The fear I held back comes rushing back, along with all the darkness. I have just enough time to grip Teddy’s fingers a little tighter before I pitch forward down the stairs.
I’m dreaming. I must be because this isn’t possible. I know impossible things haven been happening all week but this truly cannot be happening. Henry, Oliver, and Hayley are alive. They’re standing around the kitchen, making breakfast. Oliver is flipping pancakes but not catching them. Hayley is folding napkins into flowers and placing them on plates. Henry is whisking eggs and whistling his favorite song. They all look completely fine.
“How bad is your mom going to freak when you tell her about the van?” Oliver asks Henry. He flips another pancake but doesn’t catch it. The pancake lands in a pile growing around his feet.
“Stop trying to scare him,” Hayley says. She wraps her arms around Olly’s waist and plants a kiss on his cheek. “His mom will understand. She’ll just be happy he’s okay.”
“I hope you’re right.” Henry dumps the eggs into a frying pan. “Anyways, what do you guys wanna do today?”
No one has noticed me yet. I take a step into the kitchen. They look so happy. Could the past couple of days just have been a bad dream? Am I just waking up from an endless nightmare?
“Let’s make margaritas and drink in the hot tub all day,” Hayley says. “I’ll roll a few joints soon as we finish breakfast.”
“Sounds good, babe.” Oliver gives up on the pancakes and plops down at the table.
Henry turns away from the eggs and looks at me. His easy smile falls from his face. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d have breakfast with you guys.” I take a few steps closer to my friends.
Hayley looks at me and chokes on her orange juice. “Murphy?”
“Hey, Hayls.” I run over to her and give her a huge hug.
Hayley coughs again, this time the juice sprays out of her mouth. Her eyes bulge out of her head. Her pink lips slowly turn blue.
“Hayley!” I pound her back with my fist.
Foggy lake water pours out of her mouth. Oliver shoves me out of the way and seals his mouth over hers. He blows air into her mouth. He spits out a mouthful of water and tries again.
Blood begins to pool atop Oliver’s head. “Olly,” I whisper.
“Ignore it,” he says. “I’m fine.”
But he’s not. The top of his head is slowly concaving, his scalp splitting like a cracked egg. Grey brain matter leaks out of his ears but he won’t stop trying to resuscitate Hayley.
“Murphy, you really shouldn’t be here,” Henry says from behind me. “You need to go back to the cabin.”
I look around the kitchen. “This is the cabin, Henry. Come over here, you need to help Olly.”
Hayley’s eyes roll into the back of her head. Her face starts to bloat and turn a sickish grey. She’s dying all over again and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I back up, desperate to get away from the tragedy unfolding in front of me. My shoulders meet something warm and damp. I turn around, slowly, until my eyes land on a pool of blood.
“No,” I whisper.
“I’ll take care of Hayley,” Henry whispers. “But you need to go.”
I force myself to look at Henry’s face. The last thing I see before the night claims me are fleshy, bloody pits staring down at me.
I wake up on the couch with a bandage taped to the side of my head. My head is resting on Teddy’s lap. He has a bag of frozen peas pressed into the side of my face.
“What happened?” I try to sit up but the room spins the second I move.
Teddy rests his heavy forearm over my chest. “You hit your when Henry threw you into the wall. I didn’t notice the cut before it was too late. You nosedived down the stairs before I could catch you.”
“Where’s Hayley? And Oliver?” I gently twist my neck to the side. The living room is empty.
“Oh no,” Teddy sighs. “Murph, a lot has happened in the last day. Do you remember any of it?”
I close my eyes and bury my face in Teddy’s t-shirt. “Everyone is still dead then?”
“Yeah.” Teddy brushes his fingertips along my brow. “They’re still gone.”
I stay there for a few minutes, enjoying the tiny sliver of normalcy. When I sit up again, the room doesn’t swivel.
“Where’s Peyton?” I take the bag of peas and press it into the side of my head.
“She went downstairs a few minutes ago,” Teddy says. “I think she wanted to cry but was too embarrassed or whatever.”
“I should go check on her.” I stand up, holding my arms out at my side for balance.
Teddy stands up and loops his arm around my waist. “I’ll come too. I don’t want you fainting down the stairs again. That and we should all stick together from now on. If one of us freaks out the other two should be close by to restrain them.”
Teddy’s bicep flexes as he supports most of my weight. If he has a suicidal meltdown, Peyton and I won’t be able to hold him down. My heart clenches at the thought of anything bad happening to him. “You’re not going to lose it on me, right?”
“Nope, I’m okay.” Teddy kisses the top of my head. “You will be too. We just need to make it another fifteen hours. Then the gas truck will show up and we’ll be on our way home.”
“We can do it.” I say as I tilt my face up for a kiss. Teddy’s
lips are heartbreakingly soft against my own. “One minute down, eight hundred and ninety-eight to go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Peyton and Henry’s room is empty. The dolls have completely vanished, though I’m not really surprised. I’m starting to wonder if they were ever really there to begin with. The only thing remains is a pool of Henry’s blood and the broken bottle. We find Peyton lying in Hayley and Oliver’s bed, surrounded by Henry’s clothes. She has the t-shirt he was wearing yesterday draped over her face.
I sit on the bed next to her and grab her hand. “Peyton, I know this is a stupid question, but how are you holding up?”
She yanks her hand out of my grasp. Her voice comes out raw and cracked. “Well, my boyfriend – ex boyfriend I mean – is dead. Then, as he was accusing me of murdering my own friends, he chose to save you over me. So I’m not good. Not even a little,” Peyton says. The fabric above her eyes grows darker from her tears.
I don’t say anything.
Peyton pulls the t-shirt off her face and rolls onto her side. “You must think I’m a total bitch for even worrying about this now.”
“Everyone handles grief in their own way,” Teddy says from the corner. “I handle it by stuffing my face. Could either of you force some chicken down? I promise it’ll be good.”
“I don’t think so, but having something to do might help.” I stand up and hold out my hand to Peyton.
“I’m just going to stay down here for a little bit if that’s okay,” she whispers. “I’ll scream if anything scary happens.”
“I can stay with you if you want,” I say.
She shakes her head. “That’s okay. I just want to be alone.”
Teddy and I leave Peyton alone but I make sure the door stays wide open. As we walk up the stairs, I notice something. The energy in the house feels different now that there’s only the three of us left. Everything feels normal; hollow, but normal. The only thing we can do now is make the most out of the time we have between the hauntings.
Teddy gets to work as soon as we get into the kitchen. I try to help, but he won’t let me touch a knife.
“I’ll handle this if you want to shower,” he says. He chops peppers and onions into strips and douses them in balsamic vinegar.
“Shower?” I look down at my bare arms. They’re still covered in blood. “Right. Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
“Leave the door open in case something happens,” Teddy says.
Under any other circumstances, that might of come off as pervy. In this situation, it’s sweet. I kiss his cheek and walk toward my bedroom.
I turn the shower water on and peel my clothes off. I don’t realize how much blood I’m wearing until I see myself in the bathroom mirror. A small, purple goose egg pokes out of my blood-coated hair. My neck and chest are stained, along with my arms. No wonder Teddy told me to wash up. I pull back the shower curtain and step in. I use half a bottle of body wash, going over my entire body three times.
As I reach for the shampoo, a shadow skitters across the shower wall. I twirl around so fast I almost bail. I fight against the clinging curtain and tear it open. The bathroom is empty. I can hear Teddy still rhythmically slicing and dicing away in the kitchen. My mind automatically envisions Teddy wearing a blood-spattered apron instead of his t-shirt. His hair is slicked back, his eyes shining with excitement. He hacks a burly, twitching leg off an unconscious lumberjack. He whistles, even when the blood sprays his face.
“Everything okay in here?” Teddy’s voice snaps me out of my daydream.
I poke my head around the curtain. “It’s fine. I’m just about done.”
Teddy is bloodless, still wearing his t-shirt with a tea towel slung over his shoulder.
“’Kay,” Teddy says. “Want some company?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
Teddy sighs. “I wish I was but I’m so freaking bagged from today and it’s not even over yet.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Three people are dead and the sun is still up.”
Teddy looks up, like the ceiling is made of glass, and winces. “Yell if you need me.”
“I will.” I duck back into the shower. I grab the fist bottle of shampoo I can find and squeeze it onto my head. I massage the bubbles into my head and close my eyes. The suds tingle my scalp, like the fancy mint conditioner Mom uses at home. I give the bubbles a few seconds to work their magic before I touch my head again. My hands come back covered in white fluff, but it’s not bubbles.
It’s spider webs.
The tingle on my scalp turns into a crawl. I crank the water to scalding hot and shove my body into the downpour. I don’t even feel the burn. I tear my fingers through my hair until dozens of nearly-invisible spiders float in the water around my feet.
“This isn’t real.” I stamp on the small spiders until they all wash down the drain. I comb through my hair again and again, making sure there aren’t any tiny bodies lurking in it. I turn the water down to a tolerable temperature and take a few deep breaths. It takes a full minute for my heartbeat to return to normal and the itchy feeling to go away. I look around the shower but there aren’t any more spiders.
I did it. I beat Korku.
I grab the conditioner and squeeze a handful into my hand, just to be safe. The fist glob comes out like completely normal, coconut-scented goo. The next squeeze is a little chunky, but spider free. I rub the conditioner between my hands to work out the bumps. They pop like tiny bubbles between my palms. I squish the conditioner between my fingers until the tingling sensation returns. I look down and let out a banshee-rivaling scream. My hands and forearms are covered in the tiny spiders again. I shake my arms so hard my joints creak from the effort. The spiders go flying against the shower walls and curtain. Suddenly, spiders are everywhere. Huge, hairy tarantulas crawl along the top of the curtain rod. Thick black widows spill out of the faucet and race toward my feet. A giant huntsman spider quivers in the corner, all of its eight glistening eyes focused on me. I back into the only clear corner of the shower.
“Teddy!” I slam my heel into a black widow and kick it’s carcass into the oncoming swarm. “Peyton!”
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
Hundreds of fat, grey wolf spiders dangle down from the shower curtain. Their hairy bodies block out the yellow fabric almost completely. I reach over my shoulder and grab a hard, plastic soap container. Mom insists we keep the soap in it so it doesn’t wash away in the water stream. I hold it over my head and scream for Teddy again. My mouth opens just as the top of the soap container springs off. As a scream tears out of my throat, a trap-door spider falls from its hiding place. My plea for help is cut off as the writhing arachnid lands on my tongue.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I fall to my knees and claw at my mouth. I manage to grab one of the spider’s legs but it breaks off between my fingers. Bitter fluid coats my tongue and I gag over and over again. I reach into my mouth again and pull the spider out. It scuttles down the drain, leaving a trail of yellow slime behind it. Black widow spiders crawl over my fingers. I jump up but there’s nowhere to go. I’m about to be poisoned or suffocated to death by a horde of demonically summoned spiders.
Teddy explodes through the shower curtain, making the nest of wolf spiders explode. He yanks a towel off the rack, wraps it around me, and hauls me out of the shower. He runs into the bedroom and tosses me onto the bed. He flicks all the remaining spiders off of me and crushes them under his sandal.
I bury my face in the nearest pillow and ball my hands into fists. If I start to scratch, I won’t stop until there’s nothing left of my skin.
“Are you okay?” Teddy sits next to me.
I peek at him from the pillow. “Are they all dead?”
Teddy nods. “I killed them all, but you won’t find the bodies. They disappeared as soon as I stepped on them.”
“Korku,” I mutter. “I kept telling myself the spiders weren’t real, but it didn�
�t matter. I couldn’t stop being afraid.”
“It’s okay, I would’ve freaked out too.” Teddy turns away so I can dress quickly.
We leave the room and go into the kitchen.
Peyton is sitting at the dinner table. She stares aimlessly at the dinner Teddy prepared. “What happened to you?”
I catch Teddy’s eye and subtly shake my head. There’s no reason in Peyton being freaked out too. “Nothing,” I say.
“Good.” She reaches for a glass of water with a shaky hand. “I can’t take much more of this, guys. I feel like I’m going crazy. I can’t stop jumping. Any shadow or rustle makes me feel like I’m about to die.”
I sit next to her and grab her free hand. “I know how you feel but it’s going to be okay. Tomorrow night we’ll be sleeping in our own beds and this will just be another nightmare.”
“We’ll be in our beds, but they won’t.” Peyton points at the ceiling. “I still don’t know how we’re supposed to tell their parents.”
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” I say. “We’ll all be together, Pey. We don’t need to do or tell anyone anything on our own.”
Peyton lets out a sigh. “Okay.”
Teddy sits down at the table and dishes out chicken stir-fry and rice. “You girls should try to eat. We’ve had an exhausting day and could use the energy.”
I take a bite of chicken and chew. It’s surprisingly good. Even Peyton has a couple of bites.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Loud, hard knocks come from the front door. Peyton drops her fork and squeezes her eyes shut. I swivel around in my chair and stare at the door. Teddy stands up and grabs a steak knife.
“Stay here,” he says. He jogs to the front door. He holds the knife beside the doorknob.
“Put the knife away, Teddy. It could be my parents!” I stand up but I don’t follow him.
“Why would the knock?” Peyton asks.