She twisted the doorknob and pulled on it, bracing a foot against the frame. She hopped up and managed to get her feet pressed against the frame on either side of the door as she used her weight and her strength to pull on it.
The lock held.
Next she tried kicking the door. She was five-foot-six and had a hundred and thirty pounds on her with no muscle to speak of, but she gave it her all, throwing kick after kick against the door right next to the knob.
The door was so strong it didn't even reverberate. The only thing that did was the bones in her leg. When she set her leg back down on the floor, she felt a shooting pain rush up her shin. She cried out and sat down, massaging it and staring at the hulking slab of wood in front of her. Her mind raced. She didn't have much time. Her eyes fell on the hinges next.
That was it! If she could just get the hinges off, she could take the door right off and get out to freedom before he came back. But she would need...
A knife? she asked herself morosely. She didn't think a spoon would do it.
The basement. If there was any kind of tool she could use to pry the pins up—maybe a crowbar or screwdriver or something—it would be in the basement.
Katie hobbled over to the basement door, shaking the pain out of her leg. She flung the door open and flipped the light switch, descending down into the cold subterranean space.
Light came in through the half window at the top of the wall ahead of her. It did a good job in the daytime in lending some light to the musty space and making it seem not as dark and gloomy as before. But that same smell of rot, maybe old decaying wood, became more intense in the warmth of day.
Katie's eyes scanned around the basement, looking for a tool. She skirted around the junk piled in the corners around her, pulling at and peering in boxes and rifling through plastic bags. But it was mostly old newspapers, old magazines, trinkets, useless stuff.
She crept through the narrow space leading behind the stairs and found a workbench. When her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she saw that its surface was empty except for one solitary tool.
She picked it up and she held it in the air. A rubber mallet.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said.
A mix of anger and fear and nausea filled her body. She didn't know whether to throw the mallet, cry, or vomit. Her legs became weak again, and a sweat broke out over her skin, knowing he would be back soon.
A voice whispered behind her.
Katie spun around, holding up the mallet.
There was no one there.
She listened, but only heard that hum from behind the chained door. She waited for a long moment and thought she heard something again, this time very faint. And it was coming from the door.
Katie approached it cautiously. Her eyes fell on the heavy chains and the large padlock securing it. Her stomach was filled with a sense of dread the closer she got to it, like poison dripping into and spoiling a pool of water.
The hum was loud now. She put a hand on the cold door and pressed her ear against it.
She could hear voices on the other side. They were muted and raspy through the thick steel, but there was no mistaking them.
Katie staggered away from it, her knees locking up in fear. Her mind swirled with all the possibilities of what horrible and monstrous thing lingered on the other side.
Dress Up
Wheels outside chewing up loose stones.
Katie gasped. Her time was up; Earl was home.
She looked down at the mallet in her hand, realizing it was the only chance she had. She gave it a little swing into the palm of her hand and felt that the rubber of the mallet was still quite hard and packed a pretty good punch. As she heard the car pull to a stop outside, she turned and rushed up the stairs. She left the basement door open as she hurried up to the front door. She crouched next to it, ready to strike. She gripped the handle of the mallet so tightly that her hand turned white.
Katie listened like a deer rummaging for food in the woods and she stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to turn.
A car door opened and shut outside. The sound was muffled. She strained her ears. She could hear a pin drop.
Footsteps. But it was hard to tell what direction they were going.
Katie braced herself, ready for the door to open. She gripped the mallet even tighter, if that was possible. The muscles in her arm ached and in her mind she visualized the arc that it would swing in and approximated where his head would be as he passed through the threshold.
She would knock him in the head, and regardless of what effect that had, she would use the opportunity of the open door to slip past him and escape. She would scream her head off as soon as she got out of the house. Even though the driveway was long and they were up in the woods a bit, it wouldn't take her too long to get back to the main road. Someone would hear her. Earl wouldn't dare come after her.
The door stood motionless and every moment that it did so twisted her heart. Her thumping heartbeat rattled her whole body as she waited and listened to the footsteps.
But soon the blood pumped in her temples and made them impossible to hear. A fuzzy white noise filled her head and made her deaf. This in turn made her even more frantic. Her legs became restless, like a jaguar wanting to pounce on its prey but becoming increasingly impatient that the prey never wandered closer.
Then a loud squawking sound played on the wall next to her and startled her so much that she fell over.
"Elizabeth," the voice said.
There was a small speaker fixed to the wall on the staircase that was painted the same color as the wood. Katie had never noticed it before.
"I've laid a dress out on your bed that I want you to put on," Earl said through the squawking speaker. "I want you to wear it for dinner this evening."
Then the voice fell silent.
Katie righted herself and waited for her heart to settle. Her eyes were wide and her face was red, like she'd just been caught in the most embarrassing act ever. Running from the speaker, her eyes searched around.
The lens of a camera poked out of the darkness in the corner of the closet next to the front door. A soft red light glowed next to it.
Her whole body went so numb that she dropped the mallet. It hit the floor with a dull thud and she racked her brain trying to figure out what happened.
Earl had come home, and now he was in the house, but he hadn't come through the front door.
Katie got to her feet and staggered to the window in the sitting room. She looked past the bars to confirm, and the old Volvo was sitting in front of the house, just as she'd heard. There was no sign of Earl anywhere outside, and she knew he must have been in the house with her. But how did he get inside?
She returned to the entrance and stared up the staircase. She'd searched the entire house earlier looking for a way out and had found nothing. Nothing but her prison bars covering every possible escape.
Katie slowly started up the stairs, wondering if he was somewhere up there. He fell quiet after instructing her to put on the dress, and after that the house was completely silent, save for her footsteps; she didn't have the slightest clue where he might be.
When she reached the top of the stairs she looked in both directions down the hallway. The door to her bedroom was open a crack; she remembered leaving it wide open. As she walked down the hall, the groaning wood beneath her feet echoed in the bare space. Her skin crawled with each step and she wanted to throw up, but she forced herself onward.
She pushed the door open and on her bed saw a pink dress that looked like it would have been in fashion thirty years ago.
It was made of chintzy fabric, a darker pink sash sewn around the waist. The shoulders were puffy and the collar was finished in lace.
Out of the corner of her eye, Katie saw the portrait of the woman sitting on the nightstand and saw that she was wearing that same exact dress.
Katie couldn't hold it in anymore and she doubled over and threw up on the floor.
; Breaking Her In
"Put the dress on, Elizabeth."
Katie wiped her mouth and used the bed to pull herself back onto her feet. "My name's not Elizabeth," she said. "And I'm not putting on the dress."
"Put it on," he said calmly from some speaker unseen. His voice filled the room and it was so pervasive it started to seem like it was coming from inside her head.
"No!" Katie shouted. "I'm not going to be part of your sick game!"
"You will put it on and you will join me for dinner this evening."
Katie crossed her arms and walked to the window, staring at the serenity of nature past the iron bars.
"Elizabeth..." he rasped.
She didn't turn around.
"Elizabeth."
"My name is Katie. Katie Travers. I don't answer to anything else. Just let me go. I'm not going to do whatever sick fantasies are in your head."
There was silence over the speaker for a while, and then Earl added, "I'm not sick." The sudden acknowledgment took Katie off guard and she wondered if she had just been given a brief glimpse past his steely exterior into the insecurities of the man beneath.
He continued, "Six o'clock. Don't be late. And tell me you'll wear that dress. I want to see you in it, Elizabeth."
Katie wheeled around. Anger was painted on her face and she looked around the room, knowing there were more cameras watching her that she couldn't see. She marched over to the nightstand and snatched the framed picture of the woman. She held it up in the air as she twisted around to give a good showing to the cameras.
"You want me to dress up as your dead wife, is that right? Is that why you're going through this whole charade? You're sad that she's gone and now you're trying to replace her? You are sick. You're sick in the head."
Katie waited for an answer, but he didn't offer one.
"Well I'm not dressing up like her," she said. "That's just creepy! And I'll tell you what I think of your stupid wife!" Before she could think through what she was doing, she swung the picture frame onto the corner of the nightstand and shattered the frame's glass insert. She lifted it and saw the picture was torn. Katie tossed the frame away into the corner of the room, then she stood defiantly and glanced around, waiting for a reply.
But there was only silence. And her heart beat faster and faster as every second passed, feeling herself subject to the overwhelming feeling that she had done something she shouldn't have.
A screech filled the room, louder than her ears could bear. Katie cried out in pain and sank to her knees, pressing her hands over her ears.
The screech continued in a long, uninterrupted tone. It was so loud that she could still hear it clearly through her hands.
"Stop!" she cried.
A moment later the sound abated.
"Will you put on the dress?"
"No."
The screech started up again. It continued for so long that Katie sank forward onto her elbows and then rolled onto her back. She grabbed at the bed skirt and tried to scrunch it up over her ears for extra padding, but it didn't help.
"Stop, stop! Please..."
The sound continued for a full five seconds before it ceased. Earl didn't even ask anything this time.
"Okay... I'll do it. I'll wear the dress."
The speaker didn't make a sound for the rest of the day.
Dinner
Katie sat on the end of her bed with her hands in her lap. She stared at the wall, slowly drawing breath in and out. When she became still for too long she would grow restless and she would fidget. Then she would calm down and become still once more.
She looked down at herself in the pink dress. It smelled old like it hadn't been washed or worn in a long time. The material was stiff against her skin. But it fit her remarkably well, and whenever Katie thought of why that was, a chill would run up her spine.
Her eyes flicked over to a clock radio on the nightstand.
Six o'clock.
She swallowed and stood up. She walked to the door on weak legs. She made her way to the top of the stairs and waited. The rich smell of food drifted up the staircase and slipped inside her nostrils, inviting her down. Her stomach rumbled and she felt betrayed by her body.
She held onto the banister and descended the stairs, taking a long time to round the bottom and cross into the doorway of the kitchen.
Earl was standing over the stove. A few pots and pans littered the surface, and there was a cutting board and some used ramekins of ingredients.
He looked over his shoulder. "Sit at the dining room table, Elizabeth. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." When Katie crossed behind him toward the dining room he turned again and said, "And take those socks off."
Katie paused between the kitchen and the dining room and looked down. She had worn the dress just like he told her to, but she still had on a pair of her own white socks. Reluctantly, she bent down and took them off, folding them neatly and putting them on the floor next to the chair at the dining room table. She walked over the finished but worn ironwood floor and took a seat. She stared out the window ahead of her and nervously swallowed more times than she could count. She saw Earl move in the kitchen in her peripheral vision, but she forced herself not to look.
"Do you like lamb?" he asked from the kitchen.
Katie cleared her throat. "I've never really had it before."
"You'll like it."
Just a minute later, he was coming into the dining room and furnishing the table with plates of food and side dishes.
"Lamb with mint sauce," he said. He returned with a glass of wine for each of them. When he finished pouring her a glass, he gestured to the food and said, "Dig in."
Earl sat across the table from her wearing a tuxedo that similarly looked like it was out of the seventies. Katie wanted to comment on it, but she kept quiet for the time being. She picked up the knife and fork next to her plate and started in on her food after eyeing it suspiciously like a toddler looking at a vegetable. She cut off a piece of lamb and took a bite.
"Do you like it?" Earl asked.
As Katie chewed the meat, the only thing her brain could liken it to was chewing on a wool sweater. She choked it down. "It's good."
"I'm glad you like it, Elizabeth." Earl took a sip of wine.
"Why are you doing this?" Katie asked.
Earl stared down at his food, running a piece of meat through the sauce on the plate and stuffing it into his mouth. He chewed and ignored her question.
"So... are these, like, prom outfits?" Katie asked, trying to change to a softer subject. "Like what you and your wife wore?"
Earl set his knife and fork down. "Elizabeth, please, not so many questions at the dinner table." He picked up his cutlery and continued with his meal.
Katie watched him carefully as she shoveled some cooked baby carrots from a dish onto her plate. The bald top of his head shined sickly behind the few covering wisps of hair in the light above them. His pupils were narrow like pinheads and he had discolored bags beneath his eyes. It wasn't that he looked tired, just... off. Just like a fly, Katie thought; his head was too small for his body. His shoulders were perched with his elbows propped on the table, yet they still looked slumped. The old tuxedo he wore was as sad as he was.
Earl looked up suddenly. "You're not eating."
Katie snapped out of her daze and put the carrot in her mouth, averting her eyes and tending to her meal.
"Are you going to thank me for a lovely meal?" he asked.
She could tell he was getting agitated. "Yes, thank you," she said. "It's delicious." She choked down another piece of lamb and spooned more mint sauce from a dish onto her plate, hoping it would help with the taste.
The two of them ate and drank in silence for a long time. But feeling a strange fascination about him and desiring to understand his motives and what made him tick, Katie spoke up.
"Why do you watch me?"
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "What?"
"Why do you watch me?" she rep
eated. "If someone kidnaps someone and keeps them prisoner, they usually just lock them up or make sure they can't get out of the house. But why do you need to see everywhere I go? What does it matter?"
"I haven't kidnapped anyone," he said pointedly, wiping sweat off his upper lip.
"You did."
"No, I didn't." He slammed his fist down on the table suddenly. "I didn't."
Katie froze. Her mouth hung open and she didn't dare speak another word.
Earl bowed his head and rubbed his temples. "Elizabeth, please, you're getting on my last nerve tonight. You always do, don't you?" From the shadows of his tipped face she could see a smile break out.
"What?" she asked.
"Every time, you're always pushing my buttons. You can't leave me well enough alone. We can't even have one nice dinner!" He stood up so forcefully that his straightening legs knocked his chair back and tipped it over. "Well I didn't do all this work to be treated like trash!" he bellowed. He drove his fist down into the table and all the dishes jumped and rattled. Katie shrunk back in her seat. Earl slammed his other fist down and then he swiped his hand and knocked some dishes off the table.
They flew across the dining room past Katie as she tensed up and squeezed her eyes shut. The dishes hit the floor and shattered, sending bits of food everywhere.
When Earl began to calm down, he looked around at the mess. Then his eyes caught something horrifying.
"What?" Katie squeaked as she saw him looking down at her dress.
On the midsection over the sash was a big splotch of mint sauce.
"Oh no," he said. "The dress."
Katie was like a statue, frozen by terror. Watching him was like watching a space shuttle go from inactive to blast off.
His face reddened until his whole body began to shake with rage. Finally Earl's eyes shot up from the stain on her dress to Katie's eyes and then he lunged forward.
No Place to Hide
The table went flying and suddenly everything else on it was on the floor. Katie wasn't aware of exactly what happened, but she found her chair tipped over backwards and herself on the floor, too. She scrambled around onto her hands and knees and broke into a run as a steaming Earl charged after her.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 65