by Sal Conte
Even though she was getting closer, Queenie didn’t move. It had to be because Pam had hurt her. If she could get off one more good swing, one more ferocious blow, she’d finish the little demon once and for all.
Just then, the dead flashlight sprang back to life. The dull beam stuttered on, the yellow glow finding Queenie cowering in the corner. Her head was held at an impossible angle, twisted almost halfway around. There was a jagged crack in her forehead.
Pam realized as she got closer, what she’d mistaken for the glint of moonlight reflecting in Queenie’s good eye was the arcing spark from an electrical wire. Queenie had cut the power by chewing through the old cloth wire that ran along the baseboard, and was now holding the exposed wire in her teeth. Pam also realized, Queenie wasn’t cowering in the corner as she’d thought, she was calculating, waiting for Pam to get ankle deep in the running water.
She realized as she heard Queenie yanking the wire free from the wall, ripping out the staples that secured it—pop…pop…pop—that she’d walked into a trap. Queenie lowered the sparking wire clutched in her teeth to the basement floor.
It was a strange sight—laughable really—Queenie’s head being at such an impossible angle. For some unknown reason, in that moment, Pam thought of Regan in The Exorcist, and the way her head had twisted around at three hundred and sixty degrees.
This is the kind of odd thought that fires through a person’s mind when they know they’re about to die. For some folks, it’s Did I remember to lock the door? For Pam it was, The Exorcist.
The final thing she realized as the sparking wire made its descent to the water was that she couldn’t make it back to the steps and out of harm’s way before a hundred and twenty volts of electricity came arcing through. She thanked God that at least her children had gotten away and were now safe. This last thought gave her a sense of peace as the sparking electrical wire touched-down, and the water on the basement floor came alive with thrumming current.
*
A loud hum and an even louder scream arose from the basement. Bright, white light—an indoor lightning storm—flashed under the basement door and then, went out. When it did, there was silence and darkness.
“Come on,” Ariel said, taking Jackson’s hand and pulling him away from the window. “We have to go now.”
“Go where?”
“We’re going down to Uncle Emile’s, the nice man who runs the store,” Ariel said, trying to sound authoritative and in charge. She got on her tippy toes and removed Jackson’s ski jacket from the rack by the door. “Here.”
“What about Mommy? We’re not supposed to go outside by ourselves.”
“I know, but Mommy said we could this time.”
She picked up his right arm, tried pushing it in the sleeve and he yanked it back. “I’m not going!” he blurted. The whining was starting up again. “You’re not the boss of me. I’m not going without Mommy.”
Ariel set the ski jacket on the floor, picked up the flashlight and shined it onto her own face. “Jackson, Mommy and Daddy aren’t coming right now. So I’m in charge. I need you to put on your jacket, and I need you to do it fast. We have to go down to Uncle Emile’s. Now.”
With the light shining in her face as she spoke, Jackson could get a good look at her, and he saw what his mother had seen earlier, that Ariel wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d grown up when he wasn’t looking.
Jackson’s whimpering abruptly stopped.
“What about Mommy and Daddy?” he asked.
“Mommy and Daddy will meet us there. She told me so.”
“She did?” Jackson asked, his eyes turning hopeful.
Ariel nodded glumly.
Jackson threw an anxious look at the basement door. “I’m scared,” he said, trying not to whine, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I know,” Ariel said. She lowered the flashlight and put a gentle arm around her brother’s shoulder. “But I’ll be with you, holding your hand. You wanna get Woody to come with us? He can hold your other hand.”
Jackson shook his head ‘no’ in big boy defiance.
“Okay, then.” Ariel reached for the ski jacket on the floor. “Let me help you put this on.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ariel and Jackson were heading out the front when a loud thunk against the basement door drew their attention.
Jackson’s head snapped around, “Mommy,” he exclaimed in a loud whisper. He wheeled around, starting back inside.
“Wait,” Ariel said, grabbing him by the shoulder and squeezing. “Shh. Listen.”
A few moments later, a second thunk echoed throughout the cabin, then a third. Ariel knew this sound. It was Queenie hurling herself against the door, trying to get it open, trying to get at them.
“That’s not Mommy,” she said softly with a brief, sorrowful wag of her head. “Let’s go.”
The young boy threw one last glance at the basement door before allowing his sister to draw him out of the cabin.
They walked along the road dappled in moonlight for what seemed to both of them like a very long time. It was cold—winter cold, making the walk seem longer and lonelier. Neither of them said anything. Ariel got the sense that if she opened the door to conversation, Jackson might crack and start begging her to take him back. The truth of the matter was, if he did, she just might give in to him.
She was frightened—very, very frightened. There was a strong chance she was never going to see either of her parents ever again. The heaviness of grownup responsibility came like a weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Go to Mr. Emile’s. He’ll know what to do.
She repeated these words over in her mind. They became a mantra of sorts, and as long as she focused on the mantra, she didn’t think about the fact that she was scared to death.
“Yaackson.”
The cry whistled in the wind, interrupting the night silence. Queenie was coming.
Ariel squeezed Jackson’s hand and sped up, but he was tiring and couldn’t move very quickly, so she had to slow down again.
“Yackson!” The second call was urgent and demanding.
Queenie was very near now, too near for them to escape her. Ariel recognized they were near the clearing where they’d seen the dead rabbit. An idea came to her. It surprised her because Ariel thought she was too scared to come up with a new plan, but there it was.
“This way,” she said, squeezing Jackson’s hand again as she steered him off the road and into the clearing.
“Where—”
“This way, Jackson!” she snipped, sounding very much like her mother.
The snippy tone worked. Jackson obeyed, allowing Ariel to lead him into the clearing without question.
The sound of Queenie stepping through shrubbery and scrub brush as she closed on them greeted their ears. Instead of speeding up, Jackson abruptly stopped. Ariel tried to pull him along, but he wouldn’t budge.
“This isn’t the way!” he said, and plopped down on the snow covered ground.
“I know. We can’t make it to Uncle Emile’s. It’s too far.”
“Where are we going?” Jackson demanded, his voice trilling panic.
“The swimming hole,” Ariel said. “I saw it through the clearing when we were looking at the rabbit this morning. It’s right down there,” she said pointing.
“That’s stupid!” Jackson said and smacked the ground violently with his hand. “What are we going to do there?”
“We’re going to drown Queenie,” Ariel said, revealing her plan.
Jackson’s face bunched up, and he started to cry. “We’re going to die!” he whined high and loud, his sobs filling the air.
“Yackson!” Queenie cried out, the sound of her voice coming from the road just beyond.
She appeared behind them in the clearing, and Ariel crouched down next to her brother, put her hand over his mouth.
Queenie had changed since the last time they’d seen her. She looked like a refugee from the island of misfit
toys. Her head was screwed on backwards, making it difficult for her maneuver. She walked half backwards, half sideways, and moved like a drunken doll. She gazed into the meadow over her shoulder, her one eye searching for them. The crack in her forehead had widened.
“I want you to call her,” Ariel said in a secret voice. “You’re going to say ‘help me, Queenie. Save me,’ and then we’re going to run down there.” Ariel pointed in the direction of the swimming hole.
“Who’s she saving me from?”
“Me.” She was eyeing him sternly, her brow pinched tight the way her mother did when she was trying to brow beat them into doing something they didn’t want to do.
Jackson’s head jerked up and down. He sniffled noisily and Queenie’s roving eye found them.
“Call her,” Ariel coaxed.
“Help! Queenie, save me. Help!”
Ariel and Jackson sprang up and began sprinting, hand-in-hand, down toward the swimming hole. Queenie drunk-walked into the meadow after them.
Chapter Nineteen
The foul odor of the polluted swimming hole drifted up to them before they arrived there. It smelled of rotting fish and a chemical trying its damnedest to cover the stink, yet only making it worse.
Even though it was dark out, the children could see the filmy scum floating on surface of the water.
“Call her again,” Ariel said as they arrived at the shoreline.
Jackson obeyed. “Queenie, help,” he called. He sounded unsure of himself.
“Louder. Like I’m hurting you.”
“Help me, Queenie. She’s hurting me,” Jackson called. It wasn’t a very convincing call, but Ariel sensed she’d pushed him as far as she could.
“Come on,” Ariel said, and stepped into the water.
“I’m not going in there. It’s plootted,” Jackson protested.
“We have to go in, Jackson. This is how we stop her. She’s not a real dog. She can’t swim. The water will wet her battery and drown her.”
Ariel now moved further into the water, and in no time she was waist deep. It was cold—so cold her legs were numb, and it smelled even worse from inside. She told Jackson none of this. She reached for his hand.
“Queenie phrotect, Yackson,” Queenie’s voice rang out behind them.
“I can’t swim either,” Jackson said, his voice coming from a dark place within. He took a step back from the shoreline. He threw a glance over his shoulder. Queenie was weeble-wobbling her way down to the shore.
“Hurry,” Ariel called. She took another step further in, and now the putrid water rose to her chest. She continued reaching for her brother.
“Don’t leave me,” Jackson called. Ariel’s hand was too far for him to reach, and wanting to feel the safety of his sister’s touch, Jackson ventured cautiously into the swimming hole. “It’s stinky!”
“I know. Come on,” Ariel coaxed. She wiggled her fingers at him to get him to keep moving.
Jackson continued in. The water rose quickly, reaching his waist in no time. Although he was big for his age, he was a head shorter than Ariel. When the water was at his chest, Ariel moved back into the shallower water and grabbed his hand. He was shivering.
Together they eyed the shore as Queenie arrived at the shoreline. The mechanical dog stepped in and then out of the water.
“Yackson. Come,” Queenie called. “Queenie phrotect the baby.”
“Come get him. I’m going to hurt the baby unless you save him,” Ariel called back.
“Yah. Save me, Queenie,” Jackson threw in.
Queenie drunk-walked into the water. Within a few steps, the water was up to her neck. She stopped.
“Yackson,” she called. “Save baby.”
“Come on,” urged Ariel. “I’m going to hurt him unless you save him.” She yanked Jackson into the deeper water. It splashed into his face.
“Eww!” he cried out.
Hearing his cry, Queenie continued into the water. It rose up above her head, but she kept going. In moments she was completely submerged.
Air bubbles began rising to the surface, and her movement stalled. She travelled another foot under water in their direction, stopped, and the bubbles began dwindling until they were tiny fizzy things like soda water. The bubbles stopped as well. The surface of the water calmed to a glassy ooze.
“Is she drowning?” Jackson asked, his voice charged with wonder.
“Yes,” Ariel said, and her heart began lifting.
“We did it,” Jackson called with a sense of pride.
They waited a few more moments. The surface of the water remained flat and still. They were about to return to the shore when…
“Look,” Jackson said, pointing.
From the movement of the current, something under the water was moving toward them.
“She didn’t drown,” Ariel said in both amazement and despair.
Chapter Twenty
Ariel began moving parallel to the shore, pulling Jackson along with her. The underwater thing changed course and began coming after them. Ariel knew it wasn’t a river snake or an alligator like she’d seen on TV, but the demon dog they were trying to escape from.
Ariel continued moving parallel to the shoreline, hoping that the longer Queenie stayed in the water, the worse it would be for her battery, though it was quickly becoming clear to Ariel that her plan had failed.
She had made herself Queenie’s target. She knew this. If Queenie caught them, she would do to her what she had done to her parents.
They paralleled the shore a while longer, but the earth beneath their feet started sloping. The shallows were getting deeper, and if they continued moving any farther they’d once again be in deep water. Ariel realized they didn’t have a choice: with Queenie closing in, they had to return to shore.
She’d run out of plans. She knew they couldn’t make it to Mr. Emile’s before Queenie caught up with them, and they couldn’t make it back to the cabin either. By the time they exited the swimming hole, Ariel’s clothes were heavy with putrid lake water and her mind was heavy with despair.
She stood on the shoreline, silently watching as the thing in the water made its way to shore. She tried telling herself that Queenie was hurt and because she was hurt she could beat her. But she didn’t believe it. What Ariel believed was that she wasn’t the grownup she’d been pretending to be. She was a little girl who was Jackson’s age not too long ago. Mommy was wrong to put her in charge. She should have known better.
When they were at Knott’s Berry Farm last summer, she had begged Daddy to take her on the Super Scream, and what did Mommy say? “She’s too young to go on that, Harry.” As much as she whined and complained, her Mommy was right—she was too young. She was eight years-old, too young to go on the Super Scream, too young to fight monsters.
“What do we do now?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know.”
Queenie exited the water. She was moving slowly and more jerkily than before. Her mouth opened and closed and short bursts of what sounded like radio static crackled in the air.
She began moving toward them.
“Bad dog,” Ariel cried out. “Baad dog.” It was her only defense. She didn’t move to get away from Queenie. She couldn’t. There was no sense in running even if she could. Queenie would find a way to get her. Queenie was smarter than all of them.
“I’m scared,” Jackson said.
Ariel wanted to say ‘don’t be afraid,’ but she was just a little girl. What did she know? She was afraid, too.
Queenie continued toward them, jerking and spasming, but coming for them all the same. The static emitting from her lips sounded like an intermittent rooster call.
For the first time in her life, the only time, actually, Ariel gave up. The best defense she could offer was to stand in front of her brother in big sister protective mode as Queenie continued forward.
“Don’t hurt us, Queenie,” Jackson begged.
She won’t hurt him, Ariel thought. She wants me.<
br />
They were two frightened little children, too sacred to move.
A monster emerged from the woods behind them, moving out of the woods and into the clearing. At first, Ariel thought it was a bear, but the monster’s shrieks didn’t sound like any animal she’d heard before. She knew instinctively that Queenie had somehow summoned this monster.
They were trapped, the monster behind them, Queenie in front of them, both closing in on them. The monster, whose skin was covered in red sores and black blotches, was brandishing a black stick over its head.
Queenie arrived first. “K-i-ill,” she squawked. Her jaws slowly parted, and she went for Ariel’s leg.
Ariel reached for Jackson’s hand and gave it a squeeze, as she braced herself for the attack. That’s when she realized something about the monster behind them. She realized she understood the monster’s shrieks—the monster was speaking English.
“Get away from my children!” the monster cried out.
Mommy.
Much of Pam’s clothing had been singed from her body. Her skin had been char broiled by the electricity, and in some areas was peeling away, revealing the second layer nerve endings and blood vessels.
Pam arrived at their side, shoved her children out of the way, and began pounding on Queenie with the fireplace poker.
“Take that you bitch!” she wheezed.
The first blow struck home and the dog’s head exploded, the solitary eyeball going airborne and landing in the swimming hole with a soft plunk. Queenie’s nose came off next, and fake fur went flying everywhere. Pam continued swinging until the mechanical dog was reduced to hunks of plastic and metal, and fur, and yet she kept swinging away. She pounded on the smaller pieces, taking her time on each one, pulverizing them to near dust.
She chopped at the remains even after Ariel yelled: “She’s dead, Mommy. Stop!”
Pam didn’t stop. She continued swinging away until Ariel stepped in and caught the fireplace poker as she was pulling it from a hunk of the destroyed hard drive, about to strike again.