Perfect Little Angels

by Andrew Neiderman

  “He did the best with what he had.”

  “With something as important as this, you’d think he’d try to find the best possible parts. There’s so much riding on it, know what I mean?”

  “Uh-huh. Well, you’ll do a better job than that, I’m sure.”

  “Damn right.” He turned to the window again, recalling her face vividly, relishing the image. “I’d better get started.”

  “Put the light out in here so I can follow.”

  “I told you…”

  “Just do it,” his second self demanded. “You can’t do everything yourself. It’s that kind of arrogance that gets your father in trouble sometimes.”

  “All right, but remember. You stay well in the background. I can’t be worrying about you while I’m concentrating on the job that has to be done.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. The lights.”

  He went to the switch and dropped the room into total darkness.

  “Ready?”

  “Of course,” his second self said. “You just go about your business. I’ll make my way in the shadows behind you.”

  He went to the doorway and listened. All was quiet. Then he slipped out through the house, turning off lights as he went along so his second self could follow safely. Once outside, there was no problem.

  “I see his car down there. I’d better stay off the road.”

  “No problem. You know how to get down there quickly. He showed you himself the other night, the night when you left me inside.”

  “All right, all right. Don’t keep bringing that up. You’re outside now, aren’t you?”

  “And I want to be outside whenever I choose.”

  “You will. Once she’s back here and we’re all together again, it’ll be different.”

  “I know.”

  “Can’t wait, can you?” He smiled. “I don’t blame you. You’ve been in the darkness long enough.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Here we go,” he said, scurrying down the hill toward the rear of house number one, pausing only to hear his second self scampering behind him. Now that they were both outside, he was rather glad he had agreed to bring him along. It gave him confidence.

  It was good to know he was no longer alone, and that he would never be alone again.

  She awoke in her bedroom. Only a small, low-burning night-light was on, but the immediate sight of these now familiar surroundings gave her the impression all had been a dream. She sat up slowly and looked down at her palms, turning them in the dim pool of illumination. They stung slightly, and they were still smudged from when she had fallen face down on the stones. It hadn’t been a dream, but how did she get back here?

  She recalled running into Dr. Lawrence, who’d shook her. Obviously, he had brought her back. Who knew what story he had told her parents. She had to get to them and tell them what she had seen. If they didn’t believe her, she would take them up to the house and show them. Then they would know; then they would realize that something horrible was going on.

  No wonder Lois had wanted to bring her up there, she thought. She had seen that…that creature. No wonder Dr. Lawrence never let him out of his house. What horrible things had he done to him? She shuddered when she recalled the image in the window.

  What time was it? she wondered. She listened. All was deadly still. The television wasn’t going; she heard no one speaking below. She started to get off her bed and stopped. Suddenly, she had the strong sense that she wasn’t alone.

  She called, softly at first, her voice trembling so much she couldn’t muster much volume. “Daddy? Mommy?”

  She listened again. There was a creak in the floorboards, and a shadow moved in the far right corner. Whoever was standing there, stepped forward. She turned slowly toward him. The weak, yellow light pealed away the darkness slowly and revealed the corpselike face, its teeth as white as bone. She couldn’t scream; she couldn’t move. For a few moments, she felt as if she had already died. None of her limbs obeyed her brain’s commands. A chill gripped her heart, making her wonder if it had already stopped beating.

  Then something glimmered in the light, and she saw the machete.

  “Daddy!” she screamed. She jumped off her bed and ran to the door, pulling the handle before turning it. She thought the unmoved door was somehow locked from the outside and panicked, pounding it and screaming.

  “Daddy! Daddy!”

  She turned and saw him step farther into the light. She hadn’t imagined it—there were the stubs of tiny wires in his temples, and his eyes were milky white. It looked to her like the pupils were liquid, leaking like punctured egg yolks because thin lines of blood crisscrossed their way into the corners.

  He smiled.

  “Mother,” he said.

  She screamed again and turned the handle to successfully pull the door open. Without hesitation, she shot out onto the second-floor landing and rushed to the top of the stairway.

  “Daddy!” she cried as she bounded down the stairs without looking back. She tripped and caught herself on the banister, then rushed on to the bottom. Once there, she looked back and saw him standing at the top of the stairway. But he made no effort to follow her down. He just stood there, looking at her and smiling madly, the machete in his right hand.

  She screamed, pressed her hands against her ears, and twirled in a circle, frantically wondering which way to go. She started down the hallway to the front door, but stopped when she saw her parents sitting calmly in the living room. Her mother was on the couch and her father was in the soft, blue chair. They were facing one another, but neither spoke.

  Was it possible they hadn’t heard her screams?

  “Daddy! Mommy!”

  She charged into the living room and rushed to her father’s side. He looked up at her slowly, his face wrapped in anger.

  “How could you do this? How could you embarrass us so?” he asked calmly.

  “Daddy.” She caught her breath. “Daddy…there’s someone in the house…that creature. He was upstairs in my room,” she said quickly, “and now he’s at the top of the stairs.”

  “To go and invade someone else’s privacy like that,” her father said, as if she hadn’t spoken a word.

  “Justine, Justine,” her mother said. “How could you do such a thing? When did we ever teach you anything but good things?”

  She turned to her mother. Elaine Freeman was shaking her head back and forth slowly. “Everyone’s going to know; everyone in the development is going to know,” she said.

  “We’ll be like outcasts,” her father said, turning back to her mother. “Of all people to abuse that way—Dr. Lawrence! What am I going to say to Michael tomorrow morning?”

  “Listen to me!” she screamed. “I had to go up there; I had to see what Lois wanted me to see. And I saw him. Now he’s here in the house.”

  Neither parent stirred. They stared at each other for a moment, then her father turned back to her, the same look of anger on his face.

  “I want you to go back upstairs, Justine. You’re confined to your room. I agree with Dr. Lawrence. You shouldn’t even go to school for a few days, at least until we have all this straightened out. Go on,” he repeated.

  She stared down at him in disbelief. Then she turned to her mother.

  “Your father’s right, Justine. Go on.”

  “Don’t you hear me? Don’t either of you hear me?” she asked.

  “I hear all the terrible things you’ve done,” her father said. “Refusing to take your vitamins, hanging around with trouble-makers at school, insulting your mother’s artwork, spying on Dr. Lawrence. That I hear. Go on, go upstairs,” he commanded, thrusting his right forefinger at the door. “Now!”

  “I can’t go upstairs. He’s upstairs!” She backed away from her father, her eyes wide, her fists clenched. “Go look for yourself,” she said, pointing to the doorway.

  “You’re not the one giving orders here, young lady,” her father said, rising. �
�That’s been the problem. You don’t know your place.”

  “No, you don’t, Justine,” her mother agreed. “Dr. Lawrence is right about that, too.”

  “You’re crazy. You’re both crazy,” she said, and her father slapped her across the face so hard, she stumbled before catching her balance. Her cheek sang with the sting, and her head spun with confusion.

  “Don’t talk like that to us,” her father said.

  “Such insubordination,” her mother said.

  She glared at both of them.

  “Upstairs,” he demanded.

  Justine couldn’t believe her father. His shoulders were lifted threateningly; his face was red with rage. He was unrecognizable.

  “He’s turned you into a monster,” she said. “Both of you,” she added.

  “Kevin, did you hear her?”

  Her father didn’t respond. He stepped forward again, this time to grab her behind the neck. She cried out with pain, but he forced her forward, pushing her out of the living room.

  She screamed, struggling to break out of his hold, but his passion and rage had given him unusual strength. A moment later, he was lifting her and dragging her toward the stairway.

  “In your room,” he said. “Confined to your room.”

  She wouldn’t let her legs support her weight in hopes of slowing him down, but he reached down and scooped her up into his arms. Then he started up the stairway, disregarding her screams and cries.

  He marched into her room and dropped her on her bed. When he raised his hand to strike her, she cowered away from him, folding herself into the protective fetal position. She gagged on her own subdued cries, and her body shook with the effort.

  “Don’t you move from this room,” he said, spitting the words between his teeth.

  “But Daddy…” She looked about, hoping to see the creature and make her father realize, but there was no one in sight. Maybe he had snuck into the hallway, or into her parents’ bedroom. She reached up, begging her father for mercy, begging him to listen to her pleas. But he slapped her hands, and then turned away from her.

  “You’re not to come out until I say so,” he declared, then stepped out of her room and slammed the door shut behind him.

  The finality of that door slamming was like a death sentence. For a moment, all she could do was sit there and stare at the door. Then her body started to shake. She sat embracing herself, shivering. She couldn’t even get the words out any longer. All she could do was stutter and gasp.

  What had Dr. Lawrence done to them? She took deep breaths to keep herself from passing out again. They were no longer her parents; they were creatures, too.

  The creature! She raised her head slowly to search the room. It looked as though she was alone. She went to the door and flipped the switch on the knob to lock it. At least she was safe in here, she thought, until she could figure some way to make them understand.

  She went back to her bed and sat there thinking. It was deadly quiet again.

  And then, after a few moments, she heard the whispered words. They came from her closet.

  “Mother, I’ve come for you.”

  12

  She turned toward her closet, then backed slowly toward her bedroom door. He didn’t come right out; he spoke from within, as if she were in there with him.

  “We’ve both come for you,” he said. “At first, I didn’t want him to come along, but now I’m glad he did. He told me to watch where they took you, and he told me to stay back and wait in here until you returned. I’m always rushing about, and he’s always thinking, so you can see why I need him.

  “It’s been hard because we’re not always together. But now we will be; we’ll all be together again.”

  She saw the closet door begin to open, and she reached back behind her and fumbled with the lock on her own door until she had it released. When the closet door opened farther, she stole another look at him.

  He was wearing a light blue shirt, a navy tie, gray slacks, and a dark blue jacket, but everything was splattered with blood. There were thin streaks and spots of dried blood over his cheeks and forehead, as if he had just butchered an animal. The crimson contrasted sharply with his sickly white skin. He smiled, his lips undulating as if they were loosely attached to his mouth. He was so thin that his Adam’s apple moved emphatically up and down against his skin like a rodent under a bed sheet, searching in panic for a way out.

  “He has to stay in here to be safe,” he said. “It’s the light; he can’t be in the light. After I get you off that body, I’ll turn off the light, and then we’ll all make our way back through the shadows and darkness, okay?” he asked, opening the closet door fully. He paused and looked back inside. “I’m taking my time,” he said toward the closet. “Don’t worry.”

  Was there really someone else in there with him? she wondered.

  “I’m sorry all this has happened,” he said, turning back to her. “I know it’s all my fault, but I’m going to make things right now. The doctor has shown me the way,” he added, and then the smile left his face. “Although he wouldn’t like this, so we mustn’t let him know until it’s over. Okay?”

  She did all that she could to prevent herself from screaming and fainting. By now she realized that her screams did no good. Her parents were useless. As difficult as it was for her to think, she did have one clever idea. After she opened her bedroom door, if she flipped the latch on the knob again and slammed it closed behind her, he wouldn’t be able to pull it open immediately. Perhaps the lock would confuse him and give her some needed time.

  He continued to smile at her as he started to come forward.

  “This isn’t going to hurt,” he said. “It’s only a matter of detaching some wires. You can ask the nurse. She’ll tell you.”

  He was less than three feet away. She opened the door quickly, backed out of the room, and slammed the door. And yet, she didn’t run down the stairs. The prospect of running into her father was almost as terrifying as this creature. Instead, she walked softly to the top of the stairway and listened. The house was silent.

  She heard the creature trying the doorknob behind her, and realized that, as she had hoped, he was having some difficulty with the lock. Slowly, she began to descend the stairs once more. This time, when she made the turn at the bottom, she tiptoed toward the front entrance.

  Her parents were where she had previously found them, and they were both sitting just as calmly. As she approached the doorway to the living room, she heard their conversation. It was an eerie replay of what they had said to her before.

  “To go and invade someone else’s privacy like that,” her father said.

  “Everyone’s going to know; everyone in the development is going to know,” her mother said.

  It was all like a tape recording. They spoke slowly, without much emotion. She had to move quickly, and she had to get past the doorway without being seen. When she heard rustling sounds above, she realized the creature was struggling with the lock. He wasn’t going to wait upstairs much longer.

  With a deep breath, she walked quickly past the doorway. She didn’t wait to see if she had been discovered.

  She went right to the front door, opened it as fast as she could, and ran out, charging down the walkway to the brightly lit street.

  Once there, she hesitated. She needed help, but she wasn’t sure whether she should try to get out of the development. Yet she realized it was some distance to the front gate and that…that thing would be out of her house at any moment. Could it catch up with her before she reached the Elysian Fields entrance? Surely, if anyone saw him, he would know to help her, she thought, heading directly for the Dukes’ front door.

  She pressed the buzzer and pounded the door. A moment later, Michael Duke opened the door. Christy stood beside him, and the two boys were right behind them.

  “Oh, thank God, Mr. Duke,” she said. “Dr. Lawrence’s son is in my house. He’s after me and my parents…my parents can’t help me. Something’s hap
pened to them. You’ve got to help me.”

  Neither Michael nor Christy smiled. The boys glared at her, both wearing a similar expression of disgust.

  “You go right home, young lady,” Michael said. “No one here is going to help you.”

  “What?”

  “You did a terrible thing, Justine,” Christy said. “Everyone’s going to know; everyone in the development is going to know.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t talk. Nervously she glanced back at her house. When she turned back to them, Michael Duke was closing the door.

  “No!” she screamed.

  “Go home, young lady. And try to behave yourself,” he snapped, pushing on the door. She had to step back to avoid being hit as he slammed it shut.

  The loud, sharp sound and the subsequent reverberation throughout the empty street was like the report of a gunshot. Indeed, she felt as though she were being executed. She stepped back in disbelief, but the sensation that she was no longer alone out here overwhelmed her. She backed away from the Dukes’ house and began to run down the street.

  “Oh, God,” she cried, holding back her sobs. Even so, the tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  She turned in at the Wilson residence, pushed the buzzer, and pounded the door. When Lois opened it, she felt a glimmer of hope.

  “Oh, thank God, Lois. Thank God it’s you. I went up there; I saw him, only Dr. Lawrence discovered me there. He brought me home, and that creature was in my bedroom. We’ve got to tell everyone. You were right.”

  “Get away from here,” Lois whispered. “You’ll get me in trouble. You’re no good. You’re a bad influence. We shouldn’t have anything to do with you until you’ve had a session with Dr. Lawrence.”

  “What?”

  “Who is it, Lois?” Mrs. Wilson called from the living room.

  “It’s no one,” Lois replied. Then she leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Everyone’s going to know; everyone in the development’s going to know,” she said and pulled back to close the door.

  “Lois!”

  Justine started to pound the door, but stopped when she thought she heard a rustling sound to her left. Indeed, it was the creature, moving slowly in the shadows, coming toward her, the machete’s blade glimmering in the streetlights’ glow.