We Are Always Watching

by Hunter Shea

  She stopped, sweeping her hand around the high stalks of corn. “It’s kinda easy to hide and get lost out here. That’s why I want to go to New York. Less places for bad people to take cover.”

  West stopped himself from reminding her that the crime rate in New York was a thousand times larger than out here in Pennsylvania.

  When they reached Faith’s spot, she asked him for his phone number, taking her cell phone out of her back pocket.

  “I don’t have one,” he replied with a flush of shame. What teenager didn’t have a phone? “I thought your father took yours away.”

  She smiled. “My mother slipped it to me before I left. I was hoping we could text each other, you know, at least until you come over again.”

  His heart soared. It was amazing, this ability of Faith to trump the growing dread of the Guardians.

  “I can?”

  “My father didn’t kill you on the spot, so I take that as a good sign.”

  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

  Faith said, “You better be careful. We have a lot of hanging out in our future. Why don’t you come by in a couple of days?”

  He almost couldn’t get the words out. “I will.”

  If I’m not grounded for life.

  Once he could no longer see her, he started running.

  There was no way he’d be able to sneak back into the house without being caught. Once he gave up that hope, he was able to think clearer.

  A whole other family was being harassed by the Guardians.

  He had to tell his parents.

  Maybe it would make them forget he wasn’t supposed to leave the house in the first place.

  ***

  Matt stared at the pill in the palm of his hand.

  He felt like shit. Even his daydreams were tilted by vertigo. The tussle with his father had really set things off.

  The man was such a bastard.

  But for the first time, Matt could see the pain he lived with. And that pain had been dredged up by Matt’s words.

  He said he loved his family! I don’t think I ever heard him say the word love, in any context.

  Trying to wrap his head around everything only made things worse.

  He could take the pill and float away to a calmer place where the floor stayed under your feet and the sky didn’t do a jig. But he’d be so out of it, he couldn’t help Debi or West if they needed him.

  They need you, man. And they need you all the time. You’ve got to stay out of your own head. It’s a bad place. Been there way too long.

  Debi was loading up the washing machine in the small washroom off the kitchen. The radio was tuned to a local station playing scratchy bluegrass records. Listening to the music, out here on a farm on a sweltering day, made him feel as if he’d tumbled back in time.

  “Need any help?” he asked, pocketing the pill… for now.

  She turned to him, wiping great drops of sweat from her brow. “”I’m good, but I’ll hold you to it when it’s time to fold later.”

  Her smile made him realize how much he’d missed her, missed this, this easy comfort.

  There was a knock at the back door that startled them both. Matt swiveled in his chair and was shocked to see West outside.

  “What the hell is he doing out there?” he said while Debi opened the door.

  “I thought you were sick,” she said, concern, not anger, in her voice.

  West came inside. His hair was matted to his head, the collar and underarms of his shirt soaked with sweat. He was breathing heavy. Matt went on instant high alert, wondering if he should get the gun that he’d stashed in his night table drawer.

  “West, what happened?” he asked, the fog in his head dissipating like an alcohol daze the moment one sees police lights in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m okay,” he said, turning on the faucet and lapping water straight from the tap. “I just… ran back.”

  Debi said, “Was someone chasing you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I wanted to get back here to tell you.”

  “Tell us what?” Matt asked.

  “That we’re not the only ones. The Guardians, they’ve been watching another family and leaving notes for them, too.”

  “How could you know this?” Debi asked. She swiped a lock of sweaty hair from his forehead.

  “Because they told me.”

  “Who told you?” Matt asked, wanting West to speak in complete sentences. If he had to fish for every piece of information, his patience was going to wear thin mighty fast.

  Taking the seat next to him, West said, “The people who live on the next farm. Did you know them, Dad? I met the father, Gregory. He says you guys went to school together when you were little.”

  Gregory Simmons. Matt vaguely recalled him. He ate peanut butter and cream cheese sandwiches every day. He’d been his neighbor only in the sense that he lived in the next house over – way, way over. It was nothing like West and his best friend and neighbor Anthony. He couldn’t remember ever having a conversation with him.

  “We did,” he said. “So my question is, how did you run into him when you were supposedly sick and sleeping? And when I expressly told you to stay in the house?”

  His son nervously looked between him and Debi, biting his lip.

  This is where the lies typically start flowing with teens, Matt thought. He looks ready to pop.

  To ease West’s nerves, Matt added, “Just tell us the truth. I promise we won’t be mad.”

  Please don’t say something that will make me mad.

  “Well, I met this girl a few weeks ago. Her name is Faith.”

  Ah, that’s it. There’s a girl. Of course.

  “Where did you meet this girl?” Debi didn’t seem as relieved as Matt.

  “One day when I was walking in the field.” He didn’t appear to want to linger on Faith, so he changed gears, telling them how her father, Gregory, had asked him to come in the house when he found West talking to his daughter. He’d overheard West telling Faith about the Guardians, and had his own story to tell.

  Matt sat in rapt attention, asking West to repeat himself when he spoke about the Simmons’s experiences with the Guardians.

  “Holy crap,” Matt said when West was done. “Holy mother freaking crap.”

  Debi looked as if she were about to jump out of her skin. She paced the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and rubbing the cool glass on her face and neck.

  She said, “If they’ve been harassed by these animals, maybe other people are going through the same thing. Is that even possible? Wouldn’t someone say something?”

  Matt breathed deep. “Not out here, honey. When it comes to little things, they gossip just as much as the next person. But big stuff like this? Pride or fear gets in the way.”

  Just like they have in this very house.

  “Maybe we should go over there and talk to them. Just the adults.If they’re being watched, too, how many Guardians are there? Just between the two farms, there’s a ton of ground to cover,” Debi said.

  Matt was still trying to process the revelation.

  “You’re right. We should go over there,” he said. “Maybe between the two of us, we can find a way to put a stop to everything.”

  West said, “Faith’s father is huge, like a football player. He looks like he could crush a man with one hand if he got a hold of him.”

  Matt couldn’t help feeling a twinge of inadequacy. West was obviously impressed by his old classmate.

  “I don’t think we’ll need him to crush people,” Matt said. “But I do want to talk to him. What do you think, Debi? Want to take a ride over now?”

  “I do, but we’re not leaving West here.”

  Matt smiled. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind seeing Faith again. Would you?”

  West couldn’t hide the blush that bloomed on his cheeks.

  “I mean, I could stay here with Grandpa Abraham when he gets home,” he said half-heartedly.


  “I think it’s better if you come with us. You can make the introductions,” Matt said, letting him off the hook.

  “I’ll get my pocketbook,” Debi said. “Oh, should we bring something over? I don’t have time to bake a pie. Isn’t that what people do out here?”

  “We only bring pies on nights when Hee Haw is on. Or if it’s square dance Friday. I don’t think what we’re going there to talk about qualifies as a light social call.”

  Debi rolled her eyes and dashed to their bedroom.

  West got up. Matt touched his arm. “Hey, don’t think you’re not getting punished for what you did.”

  “I know,” West said.

  At least he was going to take it like a man.

  Matt asked, “This girl, Faith. Is she pretty?”

  West tried to hold a smile back and lost. “She’s amazing.”

  Matt gripped his cane and walked to the front door.

  Amazing is definitely worth the consequences.

  ***

  Things out here just never seemed to work as planned. The moment West and his parents walked outside, Grandpa Abraham’s truck came barreling down the long drive, weaving from side to side.

  “West, get back,” his mother screeched, grabbing hold of the back of his collar and yanking him onto the small porch.

  They watched with mouths wide open as his grandfather hit the brakes, the truck sliding sideways along the dirt and grass, miraculously settling into the deep grooves the wheels had made over time.

  “How the hell did he do that?” West’s father said, clearly impressed as much as he was distressed.

  Grandpa Abraham spilled out of the truck. He gripped the sideview mirror to keep from falling.

  “Didn’t know I had an audience. I would have made a dramatic entrance,” he slurred.

  West couldn’t imagine what something more dramatic would have entailed.

  “You’re smashed,” his father said.

  “And you’re observant.” Only it came out obshervent. He bobbed and weaved, brushing past them into the house.

  “He’s going to kill someone if we don’t put a stop to this,” West’s mother said.

  “One thing at a time.”

  They were about to go to their car when West smelled something. “Is that fire?”

  “Huh?” his father said, pausing and having to lean heavily on his cane.

  His mother went to the screen door and peered inside. “Your father just lit up a cigar.”

  “A cigar? I didn’t know he smoked cigars.”

  “He does now.”

  “Christ. He’ll burn the house down if we let him.”

  West knew what was coming next. He just knew it. Faith was so close!

  His father looked at him and said, “West, would you mind staying with your grandfather? I’m sure he’s just going to pass out. Lock the door and windows and we’ll be back in a half hour, tops.”

  He knew his mother and father were jumping out of their skin to talk to Gregory and Sarah Simmons. As much as he wanted to say no way, there was a chance that their meeting tonight could lead to more permissible visits with Faith in the very near future.

  West decided to sacrifice the needs of the now for the promise of the future.

  “Sure, Dad.”

  His mother’s forehead creased with worry. “Matt, maybe I should stay with him, too.”

  “He’ll be fine. It’ll be like babysitting a kid who passes out five minutes in. Right, West?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “We’ll be back before you know we’re gone. I promise,” his mother said.

  West watched them drive away and headed back into the house, snapping the lock shut on the door.

  Grandpa Abraham leaned against the kitchen counter, a smoky cigar between his fingers. His eyes were at half-mast.

  “Where’d Esasky and Skinny go?” he asked.

  “Over to the Simmons farm.” He double checked to make sure the back door was locked as well. After that, he looked in the cabinets for an ashtray, though his grandfather was doing just fine dropping the ashes in the sink.

  “What the hell for?”

  Do I tell him? Will he even understand me?

  West went for broke, retelling the day’s events and revelations. Grandpa Abraham’s eyes opened wider, his posture getting straighter. He stunk like whiskey and cigar smoke, but he appeared to be sobering up before his eyes.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  West was confused. “Before when? You just got home.”

  “Jesus. They shouldn’t have done that. You should never have gone there.”

  “Why? At least now we know we’re not the only ones.”

  He pulled a chair out, holding onto the back and leaning on it. The cigar smoldered, a blue fog obscuring his face.

  “Because they’re the Guardians.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” West said. “If you know they’re the Guardians, why wouldn’t you have had them arrested or worse?” He knew Grandpa Abraham understood what he implied by the word worse. If someone from the Simmons farm was the Guardian and had not only harassed the family for generations but murdered his wife, Grandpa Abraham surely would have killed them. West was sure his grandfather could do it in cold blood and never feel an ounce or remorse. He’d probably celebrate by going down to the Post.

  “I just know. And now your mother and father are going to wreck everything.”

  “Wreck everything? Nothing’s been normal since we got here.”

  “I made sure you’d be safe the moment I knew you were coming, short stack. I handled it. That’s what I do, goddammit. I keep telling you people to trust me. Why don’t any of you listen?”

  He turned away from West and started opening and slamming drawers. West had no idea what the hell he was looking for.

  One of the drawers slid out too fast. Grandpa Abraham back peddled into the table, knocking the salt and pepper shakers to the floor. West realized he was dealing with a man who wasn’t in his right mind.

  It scared him.

  Between what he was saying and his condition, West didn’t know what to do.

  “I want to show you something,” Grandpa Abraham said. He had a can opener in one hand and a can of tuna fish in the other.

  “Maybe you should sit down, Grandpa.” West positioned a chair so all he had to do was relax his knees and he’d be safely on his ass.

  “Nope. You need to see this so maybe you’ll believe me.” He put the tuna on the counter and fumbled in his pocket, his hand reemerging in a tight fist.

  West’s hands and feet went cold. What the heck is he talking about? What’s in his hand? What’s he going to do with the tuna fish?

  “Come on. Follow me.”

  West followed him to the basement door. Ever since they’d moved in, West was curious about the basement, Grandpa Abraham’s dank haven. He’d wanted to sneak a peek many times.

  Now, he wanted nothing to do with it. At least not without his parents around.

  The wood of the door appeared to have been painted over numerous times, different colors showing through the chips, nicks and gouges. Grandpa Abraham used a rusted key to open it.

  He turned to West on the top step. “Are you coming?”

  “Maybe… maybe we should wait.”

  “Waiting shit the bed five minutes ago.” He grabbed West’s wrist and pulled. “I should have shown you this earlier. You’re more like me than you think. You’ll understand.”

  West was forced to follow him down the splintering stairs. The stench of wet cardboard and rust was overpowering. This was no man cave. Not unless the man was part earthworm.

  Grandpa Abraham pulled on a chain at the bottom of the steps. A bare bulb snapped to life.

  The basement was an unfinished crap hole. Old junk, bundles of newspapers, and rotting boxes were everywhere. There was no paint on the stone walls. The floor was gritty with years of dust and di
rt.

  “I keep this key on me at all times,” his grandfather said, waving the key to the basement door in front of West’s face. “It’s a skeleton key. Opens up all kinds of things. You ever hear of a skeleton key?”

  “Yes.” West had read and watched enough horror to know. And this basement was right up there when it came to a derelict, haunted setting.

  His grandfather winked at him. “You are smart. I’ll give you that. Now, this is what you need to see.”

  There was an old steamer trunk like the one in his room leaning against the wall. West saw where the dust had been swiped away recently.

  What has he kept in there?

  West felt his stomach tighten, cramping so hard, it hurt.

  But Grandpa Abraham didn’t go to the trunk.

  West didn’t see the other door in the gloom.

  His grandfather inserted the key, turning the lock. The door was surprisingly thick, with sheets of tin nailed inside and out.

  “What’s in there?” West asked, his heart somewhere around his tonsils.

  “What you need to see.”

  He flicked on the light, and West saw with soul rending clarity what he needed to see.

  ***

  “Are you sure this is the right farm?” Debi asked, pulling up to a beautiful Colonial home.

  “We took a left and turned up the first road we saw. Has to be it,” Matt replied. He compared the house and sprawling, neat farmland to the run down disaster his father had cultivated. If he’d been a Guardian, he’d rather train his eyes here than at the Ridley disaster.

  “I hope they don’t mind us coming over,” Debi said, killing the engine.

  “We’ll find that out soon enough.”

  Stepping out of the car, Matt had to take a second to get his sea legs. Debi held his hand as they walked up the whitewashed steps onto the sprawling, wraparound porch. Wind chimes tinkled softly in the barely-there breeze.

  There was no bell, just a polished brass knocker in the center of the door. Matt took a deep breath and gave it a couple of knocks.

  “I can’t believe how pretty it is,” Debi said, admiring the uniform rows of corn unfolding in every direction.