by Ray Garton
When Ryan finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “Marie said Reverend Tomlin was in Intensive Care at the hospital. He had a heart attack.” Ryan thought of the look of terror on Tomlin’s face before he collapsed. “I wonder what that thing showed him.”
“What are you going to do now?” Lyssa said.
He shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“I’m afraid Marie will ask me to help her with Maddy again. I hope she doesn’t. I don’t want to get near that girl.”
“I don’t want to be in the same house with her, to tell you the truth.”
“I don’t either.” She cuddled into the crook of his arm. “What’re we going to do?”
“I don’t – “ Ryan stopped and listened. “Did you just hear something?”
“No.”
“I thought I heard the stairs creak, like somebody came down here.” He picked up the remote and turned off the television. He slumped down on the couch and pulled Lyssa down with him so no one could see them sitting there from the hallway. He touched his lips to her ear and whispered, “I think someone went into Maddy’s room.”
“Who would do that at this hour?”
“Marie, probably. Let’s just wait here for awhile.”
They sat in silence in the dark for what felt like a long time. Then Ryan heard Maddy’s bedroom door open down the hall. It had a high, abrupt squeak when it was first opened, and he recognized the sound. It was repeated when the door was closed. The next sound he heard made him flinch.
Keith cleared his throat.
Ryan got to his feet and turned on his penlight as he hurried to the hallway. He found Keith approaching the stairs. Ryan shined the light in his face, and Keith held up a hand to block it.
“What were you doing in there?” Ryan said.
“Nunna your fuckin’ business, man.” He cleared his throat as he went up the stairs.
Ryan sent the narrow beam down the hall to Maddy’s door. He could go ask the thing what Keith was doing in there. But it wouldn’t necessarily tell him. And he no longer felt safe talking to it. He figured he was probably going to be staying away from Maddy from now on. He went back to the couch. He turned the television back on. The Army was firing on the monster now. He slumped back down on the couch with his arm around Lyssa.
“What the hell was Keith doing in Maddy’s room?” he said.
Lyssa shook her head. “He’s never shown any interest in Maddy at all. In fact, I’ve never known him to behave as if even knows she lives here. I mean, he doesn’t even acknowledge her.”
Ryan was bothered by Keith’s angry response – Nunna your fuckin’ business, man. It was completely unlike him. Keith had never been anything but affable around Ryan – around anyone, as far as Ryan knew.
“If he found out anything about Maddy,” Lyssa said, “he didn’t hear it from me, because I haven’t told anyone.”
Frowning, Ryan said, “He looked almost like he was walking in his sleep.”
Lyssa brought a leg around and straddled Ryan’s lap, facing him. “Let’s forget about Maddy for awhile, okay?” She kissed him.
He put his arms around her and held her close. But even deep in the kiss, he was unable to forget about Maddy, about the thing inside her. It was just down the hall.
Ryan could not rid himself of the sense that it knew what they were doing, that it was watching their every move.
From the Journal of Ryan Kettering
I keep thinking about Phyllis. Waiting for the phonecall. For the sad look on Marie’s face when she comes to tell me.
I wish I’d never gone down the basement hall to Maddy’s room. I wish I’d never spoken to that girl. I wish I’d never come to this house. It’s probably the best house I’ve ever been in, but I wish I’d never come to it, never seen it.
I’ve got that feeling you get when you think someone’s staring at you, when you can feel their eyes on your back, and you turn around, and sure enough, someone was looking at you, and he turns away as soon as you see him. That’s the feeling I’ve got now, all the time, and I can’t get rid of it. It’s the feeling that eyes are on me. Narrow, piggy-eyes above those fat, dimpled cheeks. Eyes without much intelligence of their own.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll go see Mr. Granger.
All I want to do now is sleep. And I hope I don’t dream.
TEN
The next morning, Ryan found himself alone in the bedroom with Keith while Gary took a shower.
“Hey,” Ryan said, “what were you doing in the basement last night?”
One corner of Keith’s mouth turned up. “What? What’re you talkin’ about, dude?”
“You were down in the basement last night around two in the morning. I saw you. You were in Maddy’s room.”
“Maddy’s room?” Keith’s smile disappeared and he frowned. “What the hell would I go there for? I wasn’t down in the basement. You musta been dreamin’, or somethin’, dude, ‘cause I haven’t been down in the basement since before I went to bed last night, and even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be goin’ into that retarded kid’s bedroom, so don’t be sayin’ that, okay? I don’t want you startin’ no rumors.”
Keith was aggravated by the question, so Ryan decided to say no more. But Keith’s denial did not make him doubt what he had seen – Keith had been down in the basement in Maddy’s room in the early morning hours. He remembered how he’d looked – dazed and distant, as if he were walking in his sleep.
“You ever walk in your sleep, Keith?” Ryan asked.
“Hell, no, I don’t walk in my sleep, dude, whyn’t you drop it, okay?”
“Okay, okay, sorry.”
For some reason, Keith’s denial made Ryan feel worse about it. It seemed Keith really believed he had not gone down in the basement the night before. But just because Keith wasn’t aware of it didn’t mean he hadn’t done it. There was always the chance he’d been called down in the basement.
But why?
* * * *
Elliott had not slept well at all the night before. He wondered how things had gone next door with Marie’s reverend. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, that his every move was being scrutinized.
He went through his supernatural reference books and looked up everything he could find on demons and possession. Some of what he found was mildly encouraging. He was still poring over one of the books when the doorbell rang. He had anticipated it.
“Come on in!” he shouted. “It’s unlocked!”
He heard the security door open, then close, heard Ryan’s footsteps come down the hall.
“Pull up a chair,” Elliott said. “I’ve been doing some reading. The good news is, the possessed person almost always comes through the experience unscathed. It’s the people around the possessed person who get messed up. One theory behind why demons possess people is to instill hopelessness in those around them, to create chinks of doubt in their faith. That sounds exactly like what the thing has been trying to do to Marie.”
“Have you read anything about how to get rid of them?” Ryan said.
“Exorcism seems to be the only way. It’s usually performed by a Catholic priest. It seems the Catholics have a history of this sort of thing and they’re a little better at it than the protestants, although I read of a couple protestant exorcisms, too. Another thing – demons lie. They mix lies with truth to confuse and frighten. That got me to thinking. The people who came to see Maddy yesterday were definitely from the government, but that stuff the thing told you about advising them about the war may not be true at all. Maybe they’re just studying the thing, you know? Maybe they’ve got her tucked away in this house here so they can figure out what makes that thing tick.”
“So it’s not necessarily true that it’s helping them with the war?” Ryan said. “That the bombs are sacrifices?”
“Not ... necessarily. But it’s impossible for us to tell. Not without talking to those people ourselves, and that’s not going to happen.”
<
br /> Ryan slumped in the chair. “I couldn’t write last night. That’s never happened to me before. I just scribbled out a few paragraphs. I couldn’t concentrate. Still can’t. All I can think about is that thing. And I have the feeling that ... it’s watching me.”
“Me, too. But I think we may be giving it more power than it has. We’ve been spooked, Ryan. It’s already frightened us, it’s got us off-balance. That’s what it wants.”
They said nothing for a little while. Elliott continued to read in the open book on the desk before him.
“I went to see my mom,” Ryan said. “I wanted to see her before ... I mean, if what that thing said ... I just wanted to see her. I told her to stay off drugs. She got pissed off and kicked me out.” His face screwed up slightly and he bit his lower lip a moment. “I was just trying to help. She has no idea what’s coming.”
“Neither do you, Ryan,” Elliott said, “Like I told you, demons lie. That thing’s job is to speak through that little girl and make people despair and lose hope and question their faith. As far as we know, everything it’s told you has been untrue.”
Sitting forward on the chair, Ryan said, “What about the guy who beat up the baby, then killed himself?”
“Like I said, the demon will mix truth with its fiction. Here.” He pointed a finger to a paragraph in the book open before him and read aloud from it. “‘The demon will sprinkle truth among its many lies, truths that can be proven, thus garnering the trust of the target.’” He closed the book and folded his arms across it. “You going to tell me what happened with the preacher?”
“First, the thing turned Marie on him,” Ryan said. “She tried to strangle him. I had to slap her. Then the thing showed Reverend Tomlin something. I don’t know what. It made him scream, and he collapsed. He had a heart attack. Marie called the hospital a little while ago. He died early this morning.”
“Jeez,” Elliot said as he sat back in the chair.
“What are we going to do, Mr. Granger?”
“Well, Ryan, the sad fact is, there’s nothing we can do. I mean, we can’t call the police and report a possession. In fact, if we’re smart, we won’t repeat this story to anyone. Stories like this get people labeled ‘crazy.’”
Elliott’s phone chirped and he picked it up. “Hello?” After several seconds, he said, “Yeah, he’s here.” He looked at Ryan. “Okay, Marie, I’ll do that.” As he replaced the phone on its base, he said, “That was Marie. She’d like you to come home.”
Ryan sighed and got up slowly.
“What’s wrong?” Elliott said.
“Just wondering if she’s calling me over to tell me my mom died.”
“I hope not, Ryan.”
After the boy was gone, Elliott went back to his books.
* * * *
The sadness on Marie’s face gave it away before she said a word. She served him some peach cobbler and milk at the dining room table and said, “I got a phonecall about your mother, Ryan. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.”
He heard what she said, but at the same time, he saw the inside of that dreary little motel room. He saw Phyllis lying there on her back in her bra and panties, vomit dribbling down her cheeks. A knot tightened in his stomach.
“She OD’d, Ryan,” Marie said.
Ryan stared down at his untouched cobbler. Marie reached for his hand and held it.
“I’m real sorry, Ryan,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do – would you like me to call the market for you? Under the circumstances, I’m sure they could find someone to work your shift today.”
Ryan slowly shook his head. “No, I’ll work. I want to go to work.”
“All right, if that’s what you want. But if you need to talk, or if you need anything at all, please let me know, will you do that?”
He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
As Ryan rode his bike to work, he let the hot summer air dry the tears from his face.
* * * *
Ryan showed Karil how Kent liked the wrapped sandwiches set out on the shelf at the deli counter.
“Are you all right today, Ryan?” Karil asked as they put out the sandwiches.
He said nothing at first.
“Because you seem really sad,” she said.
“I do? My mom died last night.”
Karil’s mouth dropped open. “What? You’re mom – well, what’re you doing at work?”
“I didn’t know her that well,” he said, but his voice trembled a little and gave him away. He had a lump in the pit of his stomach that throbbed relentlessly. “She was ... a drug addict.”
“So? She was your mother, right?” Karil said. “I mean, you only get one of those. You shouldn’t be working.”
Kent came out from behind the deli counter and headed for the front register, but Karil stopped him.
“Kent,” she said, “Ryan’s mother died last night. He doesn’t feel good.”
Kent was a big man with silvering hair and a mustache. He turned to Ryan. “Your mother died?” he said.
Ryan nodded.
“You should’ve called in,” Kent said. “Why don’t you go on home, Ryan. You shouldn’t be working.”
Ryan stood with his arms down at his sides and stared at the sandwiches a moment. He chewed on his lower lip. Finally, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”
He took off his smock as headed for the back of the store.
From the Journal of Ryan Kettering
Even though I was expecting it, it still hurts. Not because we were close, because we weren’t. Maybe it’s because we weren’t and we should’ve been. I have a gnawing ache inside me that won’t go away. It’s partly made of loss, partly of loneliness, and partly of fear. After talking to Maddy, all that has been combined with a huge sense of guilt. Knowing what I now know, I can see her death was my fault. I stepped into a trap.
I’ve never written about it, or even fully acknowledged it to myself, but I guess I’ve always had a fantasy tucked away in the back of my mind that Phyllis would clean herself up one day and come get me and we’d live together again, only it would be good, not like the years I lived with her before I became a ward of the state (the memories I have of those years are vague and unpleasant, like a bad dream I used to have every night when I was a kid). I guess a part of me has always clung to that fantasy. Now that she’s gone, there is no hope of it ever happening. Not that there ever was, but at least while she was alive, that part of me in the very back of my mind, the part that needed that fantasy, could still hold onto that hope. Now there’s not even that.
And now I’ve got to live with the fact that I was responsible for her death.
When I got home from work, I went to my room and did some reading. Everyone was gone, it seemed – they were at work, mostly, except for Candy and Nicole, who had to attend summer school. Lyssa worked at the nursery near Kent’s Market. Marie was bustling around in the kitchen and Hank was out tending his precious garden. I left my room and headed down to the basement to watch some TV. Going down the stairs, I passed Keith coming up.
He had a strange look on his face. It was a lot like the look he’d had when I saw him leaving Maddy’s room the night before – almost as if he were walking in his sleep. We bumped into each other in passing, and I said, “Hey, Keith.”
He didn’t say anything, just kept on going up.
At the bottom of the stairs, I turned right to go to the rec room, but heard something that made me freeze in my tracks.
“Ryan!”
It was the deep, gravelly voice that spoke through Maddy, and it was calling me from her bedroom.
“Ryan! Come here!”
I didn’t want to. I wanted to go nowhere near that girl and the thing inside her.
“Come here, Ryan!”
But it sounded so urgent.
I looked into the rec room to see if anyone was there. It was empty. I turned and went down the hall to Maddy’s bedroom, opened the door, and went in. I closed the door behind me.
Maddy was sitting in the chair holding a Barbie doll.
“Hello, Ryan,” the voice said.
I didn’t say anything.
“She didn’t suffer, if that’s any consolation,” it said. “Of course, it never would’ve happened if you hadn’t gone to see her.”
I took a step forward. “What? What do you mean?”
“You upset her terribly,” it said. “She was clean, too, and working hard on staying that way. But when you showed up with your preachy attitude, telling her to stay off drugs – well, it hurt her feelings because it made her think you didn’t believe her when she told you she was clean. The thing about drug addicts, if they get upset about the tiniest little thing, first thing they want to do is get high. And they’re very easily upset. You upset her. She got high. Of course, the irony is that you never would have gone over there if I hadn’t told you she was going to die in the first place. And she wouldn’t have died if you hadn’t gone over there. Oh, what a vicious circle.” It laughed, a dry, scraping laugh. “Isn’t it funny how things work out?”
It laughed again. It smiled so big, Maddy’s fat cheeks nearly closed her eyes as she tilted her head back and laughed. It wasn’t a chuckle, it was a full, rich laugh, and it was a horrible sound, because there was no humor in it, no life. It was a non-laugh, a laugh that included none of the ingredients that make up real laughter. It was an empty sound that sent ice up and down my spine.
I lost it for a few seconds. I rushed over to Maddy and raised my fist. I was going to punch her, I really was, right in the face, as hard as I could.
“Oh, yes, that’s a good way to deal with your problem,” the voice said. “Beat up on a little retarded girl.” It laughed some more.