UNWELCOME GUESTS: An atmospheric, suspenseful thriller

by Anna Willett

  “Hang on.” Caitlin stood, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He noticed her sway slightly to the right, steady herself, and straighten her spine. “What about me? I want to help.”

  Micky let out a long sigh. “You don’t look so good.” It was blunt but honest. Apart from the obvious injury to her ear and some cuts and scratches, he could see she was struggling. Her colour was off and her eyes looked glassy and feverish.

  “He killed my husband. I’m not just going to sit here.” She pulled the blanket tight around her body not quite meeting Micky’s eyes. Since standing, her colour had gone from pale to almost grey.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you. You’re not up to it, so you stay put.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it again and sat down.

  “There’s a torch in the glove box. Jace, you should take it.”

  * * *

  Before leaving, Micky turned on the outside lights, front and rear. It wasn’t much but it would help give them an anchor point when it was time to return.

  “Stay inside.”

  Caitlin held his gaze for a moment. Her eyes, like deep, rich moss regarded him with what he thought was worry. More churned behind those eyes than he could fathom. It made him uneasy. “We’ll be back in an hour, one way or another.”

  They were standing near the sofas in the centre of the room, giving the body shrouded in yellow a wide birth.

  “Be careful.” Genuine concern edged her voice. She managed to look fragile and strong at the same time. He noticed a strand of reddish-gold hair plastered to her forehead and resisted the urge to brush it aside. Before he could answer, she’d turned to Jace. “You too. I can’t lose anyone else. Understand?”

  Jace moved to touch her but seemed to change his mind. Micky noticed the way the kid looked at his sister-in-law. He had feelings for her, it was almost painfully obvious, but he didn’t think Caitlin noticed.

  “Don’t worry about me, Cat. I’m not easy to get rid of.” He tried for a laugh, but to Micky’s ears, it sounded forced, hollow.

  “I know.” Caitlin patted his arm, letting her hand linger for a second, closing her eyes as if whispering a silent prayer.

  They filed outside in silence. Micky gave Jace his keys back so he could retrieve the torch from the car. In the few minutes it took him to open the vehicle and find the torch, Micky thought of lighting another cigarette. It had been years since he’d smoked, only taking the habit back up three days ago when he’d snatched Felix from outside the community swimming pool.

  Absently, he fished the lighter and a squashed pack of smokes out of his back pocket. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth but didn’t light it. Instead, let it dangle there for a moment. He had no doubts about what Felix had been up to at the swimming pool. Freaks like him were always hanging around places popular with kids. I should have killed him that night. If he’d had the guts to shoot Felix that first night, Eli would be alive and he wouldn’t be dragging Jace into something that would weigh on his soul for the rest of his life. Micky pulled the unlit smoke from his mouth and crushed it.

  “Okay. Ready.” Jace turned on the torch. He was jittery. Micky could hear it in his voice, see the torchlight bouncing in his hands.

  Micky held up the poker. He’d stashed it in the bushes near the front of the house when he’d taken it from Jace. “You’d better take this back. If you see him, don’t take any chances. Put him out of action and tie him to a tree.” He handed Jace a length of rope he retrieved from the back of his ute.

  Jace seemed reluctant to take the weapon. Micky hoped the kid was going to be able to keep it together. What am I doing? The guy isn’t a killer. Neither am I. But Felix was. Micky forced himself to picture his sister’s face, as she was, the last time he’d seen her. It had been almost fifteen years, but he could remember her as clearly as if he’d spoken to her yesterday.

  * * *

  “Where are you off to?” He wiped grease on the front of his faded jeans and tossed the spanner onto an oily rag laid out on the lawn.

  Amy bounced down the front steps, her shiny brown curls bobbing on her shoulders.

  “I’m bored. I’m going to Melanie’s house.” She wore yellow shorts and a white top with frills around the cut-off sleeves. “She’s got an instamatic camera, we’re going to take photos and make an album.”

  “No.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a packet of smokes. “I’m in the middle of changing the oil. If you want a lift, you’ll have to wait.” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth. “Besides, Mum said you had homework.”

  “Done.” Amy frowned. “I thought you were going to quit. Mrs Freemont, she teaches health, she said cigarettes give you lung cancer.”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “Okay, okay. I’ll quit, just not today.” Micky lit the smoke. “Give me half an hour to finish and then I’ll drop you at…um…”

  “Melanie’s.” She finished for him. “It’s okay, I want to catch the bus.”

  Micky let out a cloud of smoke. “No, Amy. I said I’d take you. You’re too–”

  “Please, Micky. I’m thirteen, not a baby. You can see the bus stop from here.” She pointed across the road to a green bench with peeling paint. Micky noticed she was wearing a red-beaded friendship bracelet. “It’s two stops to Melanie’s house.”

  Micky scratched his chin. “Okay.”

  She let out a squeal and clapped her hands. “I love having you home.”

  He forced his face into what he hoped was a stern expression. “Don’t get carried away. Write Melanie’s address down next to the phone. I’ll be there at…” He checked his watch. “At three o’clock to pick you up. That gives you three hours.”

  “Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute then turned and scampered up the steps.

  When Amy came back out, Micky was laying on his back, head under the old Ford Ranger. He heard the screen door clatter and shuffled his way out from under the bonnet. The sun, high in the cloudless sky blinded him for a second.

  “Micky.”

  He threw an arm across his forehead to block out the glare. “Yeah?” Amy stood over him. For a second, the sun splayed out behind her making it seem like she had a silver-white halo. He felt the back of his neck stiffen and a cold finger of dread run down his spine.

  “You okay, Micky?”

  He pushed the feeling away and sprang to his feet. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just hungry,” he lied. “Did you write down the girl’s address?”

  She rolled her eyes as if searching the heavens for help. It was a gesture so beyond her years that Micky couldn’t help laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” She stuck her hand on her hip and stared at him with mock outrage. He could see a twinkle in her hazel eyes, it grew until she was laughing with him. “Seriously, Micky, you’re as bad as Mum and Dad. They treat me like a baby. Don’t you start.”

  He held up his hands. “Sorry. Sorry, I know you’re not a baby anymore. What were you going to tell me?”

  She made a clicking sound with her tongue and tilted her head to the side. In that instant, he could see her in ten years’ time. Confident, but still sweet. Backpack slung over her shoulders heading off to trek through South America, a bespectacled boyfriend in tow. The idea pleased him and made his heart ache at the same time. Work took him away so much, she’d be grown and gone before he knew it.

  “I made you something.” Amy dug into the pocket of her shorts. “I was going to give it to you tonight, but Mum’s planning one of her special dinners and… Well, I just want you to have it now.” She held out her hand. A friendship bracelet like the one she wore but made with blue beads, the sun picked up the colour making the tiny stones glitter. “I know you can’t wear it, but if you keep it in your pocket, it might–” She took a deep breath. “It might keep you safe.”

  “Thanks.” He felt his throat tighten. Must be going soft in my old age.

  He was twelve when his sister was born. A surprise baby was how his mot
her described her. But since the moment Micky laid eyes on her, he’d felt a connection to the kid. Not just because she was so much younger, although that was probably part of it. He’d never felt a moment’s jealously or resentment towards his younger sibling, only a deep sense of pride and love.

  “Okay. See you at three.” Amy turned and headed down the faded red driveway, her sandals slapping the ground. When she got to the road, she made a big show of looking both ways before crossing.

  He pulled another smoke out of the pack and lit up. She barely reached the bench when the green bus came chugging down the road. Just before it blocked her from view, she turned his way, smiled and raised her hand. He waved back, but the bus swept in front of her.

  That was the last time he saw Amy. It was the last time anyone saw his little sister.

  * * *

  “Something wrong?” Jace’s voice pulled him back to the moment with a start.

  Micky flung the crushed cigarette into the bushes. “No. Just thinking about quitting smoking.” He picked up another length of rope from near his feet. He checked his watch. “It’s almost midnight. Be back here at 1:30 a.m. If we don’t find him, we’ll get in the vehicles and start searching. I’m pretty sure he headed west, but just to be sure he didn’t go into the bush and double back, you check the back. He could be heading for the river.”

  Jace hesitated then said, “When we find him, who’s… I mean which one of us is going to…” He let the question go unfinished.

  “I’ll do it.” Micky jerked his chin towards the side of the house. “We need to get going. Felix won’t hang around forever.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The temperature dropped, bringing relief from the cloud of humidity that hung over the house like an ominous balloon. Caitlin felt the urge to pace. But every time she stood, the floor seemed to tilt and her stomach with it. In the end, she settled herself on the sofa and tried not to look at Eli’s body.

  Eli’s body. When did her husband become a body? She shivered. Had the temperature really dropped or was the chill a symptom? Her leg throbbed. What started as a dull thumping now escalated into a boom. Boom, boom, keeping time with her heart. After years working as a doctor’s receptionist, her medical knowledge was still limited to a half-remembered first aid course and what she read online. Elevation, the word popped into her head.

  She swung her legs onto the sofa and risked a look at the bite. The two red bumps had transformed into purple lesions with angry lines of scarlet weaving up her calf. I should have said something. But telling Jace and Micky about the bite would have taken the decision out of their hands. They would have been left with no choice but to drive her to hospital and Felix… She couldn’t stop seeing him: his mouth, lips swollen, tongue fleshy and pink, pressed to the gap in the cellar door. She couldn’t stop hearing his sing-song voice, the vile things he had said. Whatever happened, Felix couldn’t be allowed to get away with what he’d done.

  It was a little after midnight. Micky and Jace had been gone less than ten minutes and the vastness of the house already worked on her nerves. The place felt too big, as if she were alone on an island. She needed to be doing something, anything to keep her mind off Eli laying near the front door.

  Caitlin got up and started for the kitchen. Her leg felt heavy, weighted. She forced herself to keep moving, trying to ignore the painful bursts radiating up through her calf. She moved through the kitchen and opened the freezer side of the fridge. It had been turned off for a few hours, but still felt icy inside. She pulled out the cube tray and took it over to the sink.

  After searching through the drawers below the island bench, she found a stack of clean tea towels. Taking a knife from the top drawer, she plunged the point into the cloths and split two of them down the middle. The third, she filled with ice cubes. Limping now, she took the shredded fabric and make-shift ice pack back to the sitting room.

  Caitlin decided to at least try to stem the spread of spider venom. She tied the strips of fabric together to make one long length, then wrapped the length around her calf, taking care to cover the bite and secure the dressing as tightly as she could bare. When she’d finished, she pressed the ice-pack to the area of the bite.

  It may have been her imagination, but the throbbing seemed to have receded. Caitlin lay her head on the arm of the sofa and stretched out. The idea of ten minute’s sleep was tempting. She’d been running, fighting for her life. Now that it was over, her body craved rest. And more than just the physical exhaustion, telling her story to Jace and Micky left her feeling hollow—spent.

  She checked her watch again. It was almost a quarter past midnight. The men would be back in just over forty-five minutes. There was nothing more she could do now so why not close her eyes? No sooner had she made the decision than her lids drifted down and Caitlin slept.

  * * *

  “You did it! You showed them what you could do.” Her mother raised her glass, ice not so much clinked as crunched like bones breaking under foot.

  Caitlin looked down and realised she was wearing her netball uniform. “Mum, why am I dressed like–”

  “Don’t worry about that now.” Her mother waved a hand at her and bustled around the table.

  They were in their old house on the outskirts of Mark Town in Queensland. Only her mother looked old. There were candles on the kitchen table. Caitlin couldn’t remember ever seeing candles in their house because her mother was always afraid of starting a fire. Good thing too. She’s so drunk most nights, she’d burn the house down. It was a nasty thing to think. Caitlin felt a rush of shame. Her mother drank a lot but loved her and tried to keep the house nice.

  “Almost ready.” Her mother’s voice sounded strange, like she was half-singing. Caitlin didn’t like it, she wished she could tell her to speak properly but the words didn’t want to come out.

  “Caitlin,” her mother’s shill voice pierced like a baby screaming. “I’ve made something special for you, for your birthday.”

  Caitlin’s legs propelled her towards the table. The room was in darkness, the only light coming from the candles. There were so many, the flames melded together like bonfire. It wasn’t right. None of it seemed normal. Caitlin didn’t want to see what was on the table.

  “That’s it, love. It’s all for you.” Her mother leaned over the candles letting her greying hair dangle in the flames. Why isn’t her hair burning? Her cheeks looked sunken, her eyes huge and shiny.

  “What is it?” Caitlin barely recognised her own voice. It was as if a child spoke through her mouth. “Is it a birthday cake?”

  Singing, faint but constant surrounded her. She reached the table. In the centre of the circle of candles sat a black bowl filled with golden balls, they glistened under the circle of flames. Each ball, no bigger than a grain of rice had a dot of black in the centre.

  “Here.” Her mother held out a spoon. “Eat them while they’re warm.”

  Caitlin took the spoon, noticing the dirt under her mother’s long yellowed fingernails. She didn’t want to touch the golden balls. They reminded her of eyes, bird’s eyes—beady and watchful. Like her legs, her hand moved of its own accord, plunging the spoon into the bowl and scooping the balls.

  She didn’t want to be in the house with her haggard-looking mother grinning at her like a Jolly Roger. But more than anything, she didn’t want to eat the golden balls that looked like tiny eyes. Caitlin opened her mouth to protest and the spoon hit her tongue. It hit her tongue and lips again and again. Each time, dumping a spoonful of the strange balls into her mouth.

  She held her breath, expecting the golden orbs to taste like poison, but instead they tingled on her tongue, oozing deliciousness. A combination of strawberry ice-cream and fairy-floss. She couldn’t help herself, Caitlin gobbled the balls breathing in the sweet scent of spun sugar and strawberries.

  The singing intensified until the room seemed to throb with the chant-like rhythm. A dart of agony cut through her middle and Caitlin doubled over.
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  “Mum, what’s happening to me?” Caitlin clutched her belly, tears ran down her cheeks.

  Her mother gave an enigmatic smile and tilted her pointy chin at the black bowl. Another stab pitched Caitlin forward. She opened her mouth to scream and a stream of vomit spewed out.

  “They’re alive.” Her mother’s voice rose to a shrill pitch.

  Caitlin looked down at the contents of her stomach and felt like she was going mad. A mound of worms, long, thin and squirming lay at her feet. She could feel the creatures coating her teeth, hanging from her lips, alive and writhing. She looked up at her mother for help, but the woman had changed from a withered crone to a sharp featured scarecrow with burning eyes.

  “No. No.” Caitlin clamped her hands to her face and sprang forward. The sudden jolt brought her from nightmarish terror to stark reality. The sofa, dark and soft. The smell of leather and the brightness of the overhead lights.

  She raised her head noticing the water bottle on the coffee table. Her brain struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Micky’s house, the sitting room. Eli. It all came rushing back. As grim as the real world had become, it was better than the lingering memory of the dream.

  Without thinking, she dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, half expecting to feel the squirming worm bodies dangling from her lips. She reached out a shaking hand and grabbed the water bottle. Desperate to rinse away the coated feeling from her tongue and teeth, she took a swig, letting the liquid swoosh around in her mouth before gulping it down. Just a nightmare, that’s all. How could that be possible? She’d barely closed her eyes when the horrific reel began playing in her subconscious mind. It had to be another symptom brought on by the spider bite.

  She looked at her watch, it was almost forty-five minutes since the men left. They’d be coming through the door any minute now. She raised herself up on her elbows wanting to see the open door, maybe spot Micky and Jace as they entered. Caitlin froze.

  Something was wrong. The front door was shut. The door had been open when the men left, she was sure of it. Her scalp tingled as if pricked with a thousand tiny needles. She had the eerie sensation of being watched.