The Coldwater Haunting

by Michael Richan

  “Well, fuck,” Jake said, growing inpatient. “What now?”

  “You could slap her,” Ron offered.

  Jake looked up at him. “Really?”

  “You know, like in the movies.”

  “Fuck, she’ll be pissed.”

  “Well, try patting her cheeks. See if that does it.”

  Jake leaned over her again and lightly slapped at her face. “Free? Come on, Free, wake up.” He increased the force of the pats. “You passed out, babe, you need to wake up. Come on, come on!”

  Ron noticed Freedom’s cheeks began to flush; however, her eyes didn’t change.

  Jake continued patting, calling, trying to revive her. After a couple of minutes with no response, he became frustrated. “This isn’t working, either,” he said to Ron.

  “Give her a good slap,” Ron said.

  “Fuck, I ain’t gonna hit her!”

  “Then the next step is loading her into the car for a trip to the emergency room,” Ron said.

  Jake looked up at him. “We don’t have any insurance.”

  “No insurance?” Ron replied, exasperated.

  “It’s fucking expensive!”

  “I know how expensive it is!” Ron dropped to Freedom’s side to check her pulse again. “Heartbeat’s good. She’s breathing fine. A little flush with all the slapping you’ve been doing already. She just seems…asleep. We’ve got to…”

  Jake brought his hand back and landed a loud smack on Freedom’s cheek, causing her head to flip to the right. “Wake up!” he yelled.

  Freedom’s eyes blinked and closed. As her head turned back, they opened again, this time with her pupils centered. She seemed to be staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, but then drifted to look at Ron and Jake. Ron could see the exact moment when she returned to her senses, and she resumed chewing her gum. Slowly her face began to contort with emotion; Ron stood up and took a step back, sure she was about to freak out at Jake for the slap.

  “You OK, babe?” Jake asked meekly.

  “Help me up!” she demanded, reaching for him. Jake grabbed her arms and pulled until she was upright, then placed a hand on her back to steady her.

  Freedom looked at both of them. Ron thought she looked angry, assuming the slap was the reason. “I’m outta here!” she said, and pushed them both aside as she walked between them, headed for the guest room.

  Ron glanced up at Jake. He looked as though he, too, had steeled himself for an angry response from Freedom. As she stormed off, their defense changed to concern. Jake went after her, and Ron followed.

  “I’m sorry, babe, we were worried! I thought you had passed out or something! I didn’t mean to interfere with your…”

  She suddenly stopped and whirled around. “Interfere? You didn’t interfere!” She turned to look at Ron, and as she did, he realized the look on her face wasn’t anger, it was fear. “My advice to you is to sell this place and move.” She grabbed her bag from the bed in the guest room and turned, headed for the front door. When she reached it, she grabbed the handle, opened it, and marched out.

  “What the fuck?” Ron asked Jake.

  Jake shrugged, and ran after her. “Where are you going?” he called, following her across the front yard.

  “I’m not spending another moment in that house!” she yelled over her shoulder as she stormed to her car. “I can’t be anywhere near this place!”

  Jake caught up to her as she reached the Volkswagen and stepped between her and the door. “Wait a sec! Calm down! What happened?”

  Ron came up behind her. Freedom turned to face him. “There’s something extremely evil in there,” she said, raising her arm to point at the house behind him. “I’ve never seen anything like it, never felt anything so…so…”

  “Evil?” Ron repeated, his skepticism showing.

  “E-vil!” she emphasized each syllable, and turned back to Jake. “I have an event tomorrow! I won’t sell a damn thing if I’m coated in this…this…”

  “Evil?” Ron repeated.

  She turned back to face him. “Don’t patronize me! I don’t give a fuck what you believe, and I sure as shit don’t have to put myself at risk!” She pushed her way past Jake and reached for the door handle, opening the car. “And you!” she said to Jake, “you better not spend another night in this place, you hear me?”

  “Where are you going?” Jake asked.

  “I’ll spend the night in Portland,” she replied, getting into the car.

  “You left some stuff inside,” Ron offered.

  “Stuff?”

  “Your shell, the bundle of weeds I presume is sage.”

  “I don’t want it, it’s tainted now.”

  “Tainted?” Ron repeated.

  She slammed the door closed. Ron and Jake watched as she took several deep breaths, calming herself. Finally, she rolled down the window. “You can be as dismissive and skeptical as you want. Doesn’t change anything. That house is fucked up.” She started the car.

  “Wait!” Jake protested.

  “At least tell me what happened,” Ron asked. “I mean, you came all the way out here. ‘Fucked up’ isn’t much to go on. Did something happen to you? Why were you passed out?”

  She paused for a moment, then turned the engine off and looked at Ron. “There’s something inside there. It’s been there for a long time. It’s evil. I sensed a kind of determination…” She shook her head, as though the move would jar loose more information. “You know, most spirits aren’t good or bad, they just hang around for some reason or another. This is different. What you’ve got in there, it has an agenda.”

  “What?” Ron asked.

  “Don’t know. I backed away…tried to, at least. I kept hitting a wall, couldn’t move where I wanted to. What I could sense was an overwhelming desire to pursue something, willing to do anything to get what it wanted. A kind of overwhelming determination.”

  “Determination? To do what?”

  “I can’t tell you, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I have to make sales tomorrow, Ron! The people at my event can feel things, they’ll pick up on this, and they’ll steer clear of my table! It cost me three hundred dollars to register, and I’ve got to make that back!” She started up the car again.

  “Don’t go, babe!” Jake said. “Please stay! We need the help. Ron needs it.”

  “I don’t work the dark!” she replied. “You of all people should know that.” She put the car into reverse. “Don’t spend another night in that house, Jake. Do what I say! Go back home. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

  “I can’t just abandon him!” Jake protested. “He’s hired me to work! I’m making bank here, babe. We need the money. And he doesn’t know what he’s doing with a lot of this stuff.”

  She stared back at him, unmoved.

  “His damn well doesn’t work!” Jake continued. “He’s got no water! He needs help!”

  “Yeah,” Ron added. “I can’t do this alone.”

  “Nothing you make working here is worth the risk,” she said to Jake. “Don’t stay! You go home tonight, you hear me? I’m warning you!” She suddenly became disgusted at the gum in her mouth, and spat it out the window. The car backed up, and within seconds she had completed a turn and headed up the driveway, disappearing into the trees.

  Ron glanced at Jake. He expected his friend to look a little sheepish, but instead Jake seemed perturbed.

  “What was all that?” Ron asked.

  “Hell if I know. Not like her.”

  “I’m guessing this wasn’t her normal woowoo result.”

  “No. It’s usually all light and wonderful and crystals and shit. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say the word ‘evil’ before.”

  “What do you think happened to her, in there?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do you think she made it up?”

  “Why?”

  “To get you to go back home? It’s no secret we don’t get along.”

  “S
o, you think she’d make shit up just to get me to leave?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past her. I’ve known some possessive women in my time. You know she doesn’t like me.”

  “She was knocked out in there, Ron!” Jake replied. “No, I don’t think she made that up. And you have to admit, there’s some really weird shit going on here. That’s why I texted her in the first place.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

  There was a pause. Ron was afraid of how Jake might answer the next question, but he knew he needed to ask it. “You gonna stay?”

  “Of course,” Jake replied. “She can’t order me around like that.”

  Chapter Nine

  “There are times when my stomach sounds like a dog howling at the moon!” Jake said, looking down at his body.

  “Christ!” Ron replied, listening. “It sounds like a zoo in there!”

  “Sorry, it might go on for a while.”

  “You can’t be hungry, we ate an hour ago.”

  “It’s digesting,” Jake replied, leaning back in a chair in the living room and placing his feet on a box that served as an ottoman.

  “It’s like it’s screaming in agony,” Ron observed, sitting across from him with a piece of pie on a plate. “You sure you don’t want one?”

  “Had two already. Might be why the tank is rebelling.” He glanced down at his stomach. “Shut up down there!”

  “I’m sure another shot of bourbon will help,” Ron replied, nodding to the bottle next to Jake.

  His friend took the hint and poured himself another glass, immediately downing it. “I’ll drown the little fuckers!” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I gotta say, we did some good work today. I’m grateful you stayed.”

  “Yeah, a lot of work. More than I thought we’d do. You happy with what we did on the reservoir? I thought it was a clever solution, if I do say so myself.”

  “Might have to redo some things after they deepen the well, but this’ll get me by until then.”

  “Christ, you really gonna do that? I thought it was going to cost an arm and a leg.”

  “Forty dollars a foot, plus a lot of other charges.”

  “Oh, phaw!” Jake said, waving his hand. “Four hundred isn’t so bad! Just have ‘em do it.”

  “Forty times a hundred is four thousand, not four hundred.”

  “Oh, yeah…got my zeros wrong. Christ, that’s a lot.”

  Ron could hear Jake’s phone buzzing in his pocket, but his friend wasn’t making any moves to retrieve it. “Not gonna check that?”

  “Already know. She’s been texting me every half hour with threats.”

  “Threats?”

  “If you stay there, you’ll…You come home before midnight, or else…that kind of shit. I responded to the first couple but I’ve been ignoring her for a while.”

  “Damn, I’m sorry, I feel like I created a problem between the two of you.”

  “Forget it. It was my decision to come, my decision to ask her to stop by, my decision to stay. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Jake poured himself another shot.

  Outside, dusk had become darkness, and the lights inside the house caused reflections in the windows. Ron tried to look out from where he sat, but was unable to see anything through them. He felt a growing sense of dread. Maybe Freedom was right, and we shouldn’t stay here.

  Don’t be stupid, he corrected himself. You own this house. You have to live in it. What are you going to do, stay in a motel? You wanted to be out of the city, alone, with solitude. Now you have it. You’re going to have to learn to enjoy it.

  “Dark out already,” Jake observed, when he saw Ron looking out the windows. “What is it, 8?”

  “After 9,” Ron replied, feeling sleepy. “Long day.”

  “Yeah,” Jake answered, lifting the glass to his lips. Instead of tossing this one back, he sipped at it. “I’m already feeling it in my back. Although this booze is helping me forget it’s there.”

  Ron rose from his chair. “I realize it’s still a little early, but I’m beat. I’m gonna turn in.” He started for the stairs.

  Jake stopped him. “Ron?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’d like you to promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “If you see anything weird tonight, wake me up so I can see it too. I don’t want to spend the night lying in there, thinking something might be going on, when it isn’t. I’m gonna assume you’ll cut me in if shit starts up, otherwise I intend to sleep.”

  “If it’s weird shit, I would have thought you’d prefer to be left out.”

  “No, I’m the one with the gun. I’ll have it by my bed, ready to use. You call down and wake me up, and I’ll do the same if I see anything weird.”

  “OK, buddy,” Ron replied, and started up the stairs. “It’s a deal.”

  He made his way to the master bedroom and cleaned up before stripping down and getting into bed. The long, physical day took its toll, and Ron found his eyes closing before his head even hit the pillow.

  - - -

  He awoke to the feeling of cold metal against his nose. In the dim light of the bedroom, he could make out a shadow by the side of the bed. As he became more conscious, he realized it was a man looking down at him, shoving something toward his face.

  In horror he realized it was the barrel of a gun.

  “Jake?”

  “I can’t let you do it!” the figure replied, sobbing. “All those innocent people!”

  “Jake? Jake? It’s me, Ron.” His heart was beating so fast, he could hear it pounding in his ears like a drumbeat. He felt like yelling, but didn’t want to shock or stir up emotion in his friend, not with the cold metal of the barrel right under his nose. “Move the gun away from my face.”

  “You promise you won’t do it?” Jake pleaded, wrapped up in some kind of dream. He’d never heard Jake cry before, and it made his voice sound higher than normal. He wanted to reach up and grab the barrel to push it away from his face, but was afraid the movement might startle him.

  “I promise,” Ron replied, not knowing what he was agreeing to, but trying his best to sound sincere. “Just move the gun. I promise I won’t.”

  “OK,” Jake said, and the barrel shifted to the left. Ron grabbed it, pointing it into the mattress by his side in case Jake pulled the trigger. He slipped out of bed, his fingers still wrapped around the barrel. “Give me the gun.”

  Jake released the firearm, and Ron took hold of it. His friend stumbled back, away from the bed.

  “You OK?” Ron asked.

  Jake didn’t speak, just kept retreating until he came to a wall, where he stopped and slid down until he was sitting on the floor.

  Ron placed the gun on the bed and reached for his robe, throwing it around his shoulders and switching the light on his night stand.

  Jake had his head in his hands, still gently crying.

  “Buddy?” Ron asked, walking toward him. “You OK?”

  “You were setting bombs,” Jake said through his hands, not looking up. “You placed all these bombs all over the house, like in a movie, and you were going to set them off. All the people were going to be killed. Innocent people.”

  “People in the house?”

  “Yeah, it was full of people. It was this house…but it wasn’t, too, you know, how things aren’t quite right in a dream.”

  “Yeah.”

  He looked up. “I can’t believe I pulled the gun on you.”

  “Me either. I about shit myself.”

  “I don’t know why…I mean, I’ve never sleepwalked or anything like that. It’s just…it seemed so real. Like you were really going to do it, and I had to stop you, I couldn’t be part of murdering all those people.” He looked up. “I…I might have killed you.”

  “Maybe having the gun around wasn’t the best idea,” Ron offered, looking over to the bed where the firearm still lay on the covers.

  “Yeah,” Ja
ke agreed, lowering his head again. “What if I had pulled the trigger? Freedom was right; I should have left. Maybe you should, too.”

  He sat next to his friend. “Don’t sweat it, buddy. It’s over. It was just a dream.”

  “Nearly killed you.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “How do I go back to sleep? How do either of us? I might try it again.”

  “We’ll lock up the guns.”

  “You don’t understand,” Jake replied. “It was overwhelming…I had to stop you. If I hadn’t found a gun, I would have used a knife from the kitchen. My bare hands. I was convinced you were going to blow the place up.”

  “Like a movie.”

  “Just like that. Sticks of dynamite all bundled up, wires and timers and shit…”

  “Why? Do you know why I was doing it?”

  “No. Just that you were determined. I had been helping you, but at the last minute I realized how many people you were going to kill, and I realized I had to stop you.”

  “I think all the spooky shit going on – and your girlfriend’s visit – might have sent our imaginations into overdrive.” Ron rose from the floor. “I’ve had some weird dreams lately, too. Very bizarre. They seemed real, but of course dreams always do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Just bizarre shit. Paranoid stuff.”

  “Like someone is going to blow the place up?”

  “Well, not that exactly, but paranoid, yeah.”

  Jake rose. “Listen, I want to stay here and help you, I really do, but I thought it’d just be two buds hanging out, working, drinking, you know. A nice getaway from my old lady for a while.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to ditch me. Listen, we’ll keep the guns in your truck.”

  “Wouldn’t have made any difference. I’d have gone to the truck for them before coming up here.”

  “Then I’ll go into town and get locks. We’ll secure them. Just don’t bail on me.”

  “We’ve got to do something about this shit, Ron!” Jake replied. “It’s not just plumbing and the siding. If you want me to stay and help, you need to…” He paused.