Skellyman

by Rie Sheridan Rose

  She poured Daisy another small glass of juice—hoping that it wouldn’t lead to a bed-wetting either—and got a soft drink for herself then filled a plate with cookies.

  This will be fun.

  Careful not to spill anything, she carried the refreshments into the playroom. Daisy was already waiting for her.

  Brenda set the tray of goodies down on the low coffee table and took a moment’s stock of the room. Robbie had loved this room. From the basketball hoop mounted on the closet door to the widescreen TV with the game console hooked up to it.

  The ping-pong table was covered with a film of dust. She should make a point to clean in here more often. The Space Invaders console sat in a place of honor in the center of the room. Its bright yellow paint looked a little tawdry to Brenda, but then, it still worked, and Robbie didn’t.

  Daisy hopped up on one of the chairs placed beside the cocktail cabinet. “Play on my side, Mama. Help me.”

  “All right, baby.”

  She lifted Daisy into her lap, and hit play. Although once a functioning arcade machine, the mechanism had been altered so it didn’t require any quarters to play. She had teased Ethan that leaving the game intact might be a sure way to get Robbie’s college money, considering how much the boy played.

  The waves of marching invaders started their inexorable march down the screen, and Daisy laughed maniacally as Brenda tried to maneuver the little spaceship across the bottom and blow them up. It was difficult, to say the least, with Daisy blocking half of her view, but the little buggers were “blowing up real good” as Robbie had been wont to say.

  “Hurry, Mama, hurry! That one is too low!” Daisy pointed at the marauding bug, and Brenda fought to shoot it off the screen.

  She missed. The screen filled with the little aliens.

  “Again, Mama. Again!”

  “Okie dokie. We’ll try it again.”

  She hit the button, and the intro music started. ONE PLAYER OR TWO PLAYER appeared on the display.

  Brenda frowned. That hadn’t come up the last time.

  She went to press ONE PLAYER, and the game started before she could hit the button. She watched, frozen, as the screen divided into two halves, and the little armies started down…one set heading toward her and Daisy, one set heading toward the empty stool across from them.

  Daisy twisted in her lap to look up at her. “Mama…?”

  Brenda’s hand shook as she reached for the controls. Some glitch. She must have hit the button by accident. Oh well, they could still play their half.

  The unmistakable sound of shooting came from the other side of the screen. Sections of alien bugs were being wiped off the face of the display.

  On their side, the bugs marched inexorably down towards their little ship, but Brenda couldn’t move.

  The score display flashed, mounting higher and higher.

  “Mama, what’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, baby. I think the machine is broken. Let’s get away from it, okay?”

  Daisy frowned at Brenda, and then her face cleared. “I know! I bet Robbie is playing too,” she commented. “It was his favoritest.”

  The matter-of-fact tone sent a chill through Brenda.

  She scraped back her chair, hugging Daisy to her as the game continued to play itself.

  “Mama,” Daisy protested. “It’s no problem. He’s just showing off now.”

  Brenda couldn’t drag her eyes from the mounting score. Stepping away from the console, she hit the coffee table and knocked the drinks to the floor. The splash of cool liquid made her jump.

  “Daisy, sweetie, I want you to go to your room now. I’ll be there in a minute.” She set the little girl down in the doorway.

  “What about Bones?” Daisy wailed.

  “You can let him in, baby, but then go wait in your room.”

  Daisy ran down the hallway. There was the sound of the screen sliding back, and then the pad of bare feet, dog and human, as Daisy and Bones scurried for the girl’s bedroom.

  Brenda edged around the game console, with its flashing display, and grabbed the electrical cord. Must be some short in the system. It shouldn’t be left plugged in.

  She really should sell the damn thing anyway. It never got used anymore. A collector would pay a goodly sum for the darn thing.

  She pulled the plug from the outlet.

  The game continued to play. Now, the noise of the little aliens moving down the screen took on a keening edge that grated on her nerves. The music grew louder and louder. There was a final screech of alien victory, and the lights dimmed.

  Heart in her throat, Brenda moved to where she could see the screen. The high score board was displayed. As she watched, the letters R J B blinked into view in the number one position. Robert James Barnett.

  Chapter 17

  He couldn’t help himself. The Space Invaders game had always been a magnet for him. Hearing the familiar sound effects, he’d been drawn to the playroom. Mom and Daisy were playing on one side of the table, and he sank down onto the opposite stool.

  He watched the little aliens marching down the screen, and called encouragement. Of course, Mom couldn’t hear him, and Daisy was too caught up in the game to pay him any attention.

  When the game ended, he reached forward without even thinking and started it over in TWO PLAYER mode. His fingers flew on the controls as he concentrated on destroying the little aliens. He was happier than he could remember being in months.

  The score mounted higher and higher, the glowing numbers flashing in the corner of the display as the marching aliens slipped down the screen. He didn’t register the horror on his mother’s face, or the budding smile on Daisy’s as they watched in stunned fascination.

  His concentration totally focused on the game, he didn’t realize that even Daisy couldn’t see him when he wasn’t projecting for her. He didn’t see his mother send Daisy from the room. He just kept playing, fingers flying faster and faster.

  He heard Mom behind him, and then the game dimmed. But he was concentrating so hard it continued its play with barely a pause. The aliens flashed faster and faster. He’d never scored this high ever!

  He heard a strangled cry from his mother and it broke his concentration enough for one of the aliens to finally get through his defenses.

  “Aww, geez,” he muttered.

  Then the High Score screen flashed up and he shrugged. At least he could record his victory.

  Proudly, he entered RJB in the top spot. How cool was that! He’d been trying to beat Dad’s highest score for years.

  The empty room registered on him at last. Where had Mom and Daisy gone? He really needed to talk to his mother. He wished she could see him like Daisy could when he concentrated.

  He wondered in passing why that was. What was it about his sister that let her see him when nothing he tried could get Mom to sense his presence?

  He had to figure it out…and it better be soon.

  Chapter 18

  Brenda couldn’t stop shaking.

  She sat in her parents’ brightly lit kitchen with a mug of steaming coffee clutched in her trembling hands, and couldn’t regain control. The rich aroma of the coffee spiraled up from the cup, and she tried to focus on it, but all she could see in her mind’s eye were those three letters blinking on and off.

  “Daisy is out like a light,” commented her mother, coming back into the yellow kitchen after putting the child to bed in the guest room. “Now, let’s see if we can make some sense out of your story this time.” She eased into the chair across from Brenda, reaching out to place a hand on her daughter’s arm. She patted it briefly then pulled back, as if unsure the contact would be welcomed.

  Brenda looked over the rim of her cup at the placid, gray-haired figure in her pink chenille bathrobe. “I told you, Mom. Something’s wrong with my house. I—I think it’s haunted.”

  “Sweetheart, that’s just crazy talk. How can your video box play by itself? There must be some sort of explanation.”


  “There is. Something’s wrong with my house.”

  Mary Fullerton threw up her hands and scraped the chair back from the table. “You talk to her, George. She isn’t making any sense.”

  A resounding sneeze echoed in the quiet room.

  “Excuse me,” Mary apologized. “It’s that cat.”

  Brenda glanced down at the kitten sleeping peacefully in her lap. Tough toenails.

  There’d been no way she was leaving her fur-baby behind in that madhouse. Bones was happily exploring the Fullertons’ backyard, but Mask was too young, and too little, to be thrown outside. Her mother could suffer for one night. They’d be gone in the morning.

  George Fullerton sat in the chair his wife had vacated and studied his daughter. “How’re you doing, kitten?”

  “Not too good, Papa.”

  He reached across the table with those big workman’s hands and took one of hers, cradling it gently between his own. “Honey, I know what you think you saw. Is it possible you were mistaken?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “No, Papa. I pulled the plug on that damn machine, and it was still playing.”

  Her mother shook her head with a tsk of disbelief. Brenda felt her cheeks grow hot. Sitting here in the bright yellow kitchen, with its green countertops and brown appliances—like some giant sunflower, she had always thought—the whole thing seemed less real. But her hands still trembled from the memory.

  She gulped down a mouthful of the hot coffee, steeling herself to speak. “I don’t have any logical explanation for it. But it scared the crap out of me.”

  “Brenda—language!” Mary’s tone was laced with shock.

  “I think the situation calls for a little language leniency, Mary,” George replied, patting Brenda’s hand. “You did right to come here, kitten. In the morning, we’ll take a look at the machine. May just need to tweak a circuit.”

  Brenda shook her head. “No, I want it gone, Papa. I don’t want that thing in my house anymore.”

  “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sure we can find it a good home somewhere. It’s a nice piece of equipment. I remember how excited Ethan was when he found—oh, Christ. Me and my big mouth.”

  Mary opened her mouth to protest the epithet—but bit back the comment at a look of warning from her husband.

  Brenda felt a small smile curve her lip. Home never changes, does it?

  She swiped at her tears with the back of her free hand. “No, Papa, you’re right. He loved that thing, and so did Robbie. But I can’t risk there being something dangerously wrong with it. Not with Daisy in the house. She’s all I have left. If something were to happen to her—”

  “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” George drawled, in his best Roy Rogers imitation. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  Smiling at his teasing, Brenda nodded. “I knew I could count on you, Papa.”

  “Always was wrapped around your little finger,” sighed Mary, arms folded across her ample bosom.

  “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” Brenda transferred the kitten from her lap to her shoulder. “Thanks for letting us stay the night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Sunshine,” George replied.

  Mary sneezed. Loudly.

  Brenda couldn’t sleep, despite the familiarity of being back in the bed she had grown up in. Daisy was out like a light, thumb firmly planted in her mouth.

  She looked down at the child fondly. If only I could sleep like that. Without a care in the world…

  Maybe a cup of hot milk would help calm her nerves. She shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, to find Mary sitting at the table, a wad of tissues before her, and a mug in her hands.

  Brenda flushed. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know you were up.”

  “It’s all right, Brenda Elaine. Just having a bit of trouble sleeping tonight. Allergies kicking up.”

  She gestured to the chair opposite her. “You have a seat. I’ll heat you up some milk.”

  “I can handle it—”

  “Nonsense. You’ve had a bad day. Scare like that will wear on a body.” She pushed her chair back. “Sit down.”

  With a sigh of acquiescence, Brenda sank down on the indicated chair, running her hands through her hair. This was more than she could take. If she didn’t find out who was behind this mess soon, she’d go crazy.

  Mary stirred milk in a pan on the stove—no microwave for her.

  “Brenda…” she began tentatively.

  “Yes?”

  There was a curious note in Mary’s voice…Brenda could almost believe it was concern.

  “I know we don’t always get on, but I just want you to know you can always come home if you need to. I miss that boy of yours every day. I know it must be terribly hard for you to lose a child like that. When you were a little girl, it was my greatest fear—that something might happen to take you away from us. Maybe that’s one reason why I’ve always held you at a bit of a distance. But you’re my child, and if you need us, we’re here for you.”

  Brenda leaned back in the chair, shaken by the revelation. Her mother had never spoken to her like this in her life. “Thank you, Mom,” she said softly.

  Mary set a mug of warm milk in front of Brenda. “I’m going to bed. Breakfast will be at seven.” She turned and walked out of the room.

  Brenda stared after her retreating form. The milk sat cooling on the table before her, forgotten.

  In the daylight, the whole thing seemed kind of silly. Surely, she’d been mistaken. Electronic devices could develop all sorts of glitches. There must be a logical explanation for what she thought she’d seen. Or so she kept telling herself, despite the certainty that there wasn’t churning deep in her gut.

  “Morning, Sunshine.” George greeted her entrance into the kitchen with that same gravelly growl that had made her feel safe and happy growing up in this house.

  A child deserved that feeling of protection. Daisy was being shortchanged by life.

  “Morning, Papa,” she replied, some of her cocoon of well-being leaching away at the sight of her mother banging pans at the stove between ostentatious applications of a tissue to her red nose. “Morning, Mom.”

  Mary sniffed.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Brenda asked automatically, knowing Mary would rather be shot than have someone else fiddling about her kitchen.

  “You can go tell the baby it’s time for breakfast. And make sure she washes her hands. She’s out back playing with that dog.”

  How long did I oversleep? Brenda wondered. If the whole house is dressed and stirring, it must be later than I thought.

  She stole a glance at the sunflower clock on the way out of the room. Almost eleven. Normally, she would be thinking about lunch for Daisy about now, not breakfast, but it wouldn’t hurt to skip one meal today. She’d fix the child a snack later in the afternoon, and they would be having a big dinner.

  Dinner! Oh, God!

  She’d totally forgotten she was having a guest. She had so much to do before Sanchez arrived.

  They needed to get home as soon as possible after breakfast. She had to get the game room cleaned up—and that demon machine out of her house—and straighten the rest of the living areas. The litter box needed to be checked…

  Speaking of the litter box, where was Mask? When she awoke this morning, the kitten wasn’t on the pillow beside her where it had been when she went to sleep.

  She started to turn back and ask then shrugged. Better not to push her mother. She’d get Daisy to the kitchen, and then look for the kitten.

  When she reached the backyard, she realized she could do both at once. Daisy was standing beneath the one fair-sized tree the yard boasted, scolding Bones at the top of her lungs.

  “Bad dog! Bad! That wasn’t nice.”

  “Daisy! You’ll bother the neighbors. What did he do now, sweetie?”

  The child pointed up into the branches of the tree. “He scareded th
e kitten, Mama. Grammy put her outside, and Bones scareded her. She runned up there. I can’t reach her.”

  “You go on in to breakfast, baby, and I’ll get her down. Make sure you wash your hands before you eat, okay?”

  “Okay, Mama. I’m sorry Bones was such a bad dog.” The last two words were directed back at the puppy. Daisy shook her little finger in the puppy’s face.

  Bones cowered.

  “It’s okay, sweetie. He’s just being a dog. And Mask has claws so she can run away where he can’t get her. Now, go on in.”

  Daisy slid back the porch door, struggling a minute to get it closed again, and then was gone.

  Brenda stood peering up into the skeletal branches of the tree. The leaves had turned, and many of them had fallen, but there were enough still clinging to their moorings that it took her a minute to pinpoint the little black and white ball huddled in a fork near the crown of the tree.

  “Mask, I’m here, sweetheart. I’ll get you down.”

  She glanced around for something to stand on. The tree was only about twice her height, but the trunk didn’t break into branches until just over her head.

  The kitten mewed piteously. It put out a tentative paw, as if thinking about starting down, and then drew it back with another little squeak.

  The yard showed evidence of her father’s meticulous personality. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Unfortunately, there was apparently no place for a stepladder.

  She was sure there must be one somewhere about, but she didn’t want to leave the yard to look. The kitten might run higher, and then she would never be able to get it down.

  A set of metal garden chairs stood next to an umbrella table in one corner of the yard. Brenda fetched a chair and braced it against the trunk of the tree. Standing on the seat, she could grab hold of the lowest branch of the tree. With infinite caution, she used the branch to help her balance precariously on the narrow arms of the chair. This gave her another two feet or so of height.