Steve walked to the top of the hill and brought out his cell phone. He dialed the local garage.
“Hi, Burton’s Garage.”
“Hi, this is Steve Scott from the cabin past round tree, up the trail.”
“Yes, Mr. Scott, I knew your father-in-law,” the garage owner replied.
“My car’s been ... vandalized. Can you come up and repair it?” There was a long delay. Steve wondered if they had been cut off.
“It’d be better to tow you in, but it will be three days before I can get to you.”
Steve felt panic flare in his stomach. “My wife’s not too well. Could someone come and pick us up?”
“Doc’s away. Is it serious?”
“She’s behaving strangely.” Steve knew how weak that sounded, but what else should he say?
“Strange, huh. Guess you don’t know much about women. See you in three days.” The phone went dead.
Steve looked back at his family. What should he do? He could call the hospital, call back ... He stared at Lauren. She was sitting on the blanket with Lucy in her arms. They both looked so happy. He popped the phone back into his pocket.
Lauren saw he had finished and walked over. “Well?” she asked.
“Three days.”
“That’s okay. I’m fine now.”
“You sure?”
She reached up and pulled him close. Her lips glided across his, opening his mouth for a long, passionate kiss. She pulled away, leaving him breathless. “How’s that feel?”
It felt good. It felt like they were finally getting over all the problems. He dared to allow himself to bathe in the happiness. Maybe it was all over?
Chapter 20
The children sat around the table outside the cabin. Chase had his head in a book and Lucy played with Bunkie. She walked the rabbit across the table, chattering about the forest and the day’s journey. It was almost dusk on a cloudless night and the wind whispered gently in the trees.
The cabin door banged open and Steve rushed out, carrying a steaming pot. He placed it gingerly on the table. “Right, Mum’s pot roast, prepared by bumbling Dad, so no complaints.”
Lucy dropped Bunkie onto her lap and grabbed a bowl. She handed it to Steve. “No wormies?”
“No, it’s all good.” Steve served her a share and looked for Lauren. She was in the chair. She wore a white summer dress and she looked fine, in fact, she looked perfect. She nodded and got out of the chair and walked to the table.
“Chase,” Steve said.
The boy passed his bowl, his eyes never leaving the page of the book he had missed on the long walk. He picked up a spoon and began to eat.
Steve chuckled to himself as Lauren served her own portion.
“This smells great,” she said.
Steve nodded and tucked into his own meal. The table was subdued as they ate. They were all hungry and tired from the long walk, but the silence was comfortable. It felt good.
Steve finished his meal and poured a glass of wine for him and Lauren. It smelt fruity and light, a taste of summer. He clinked glasses with his wife as they watched the children finish their meal.
“You two must be ready for bed,” Lauren said.
Lucy looked full of energy after the meal. “Can we go on the boat?” she asked.
Steve inwardly groaned. The sun was nearly set but it was still light enough for a time, yet he was tired. “I don’t know. Aren’t you tired?”
Chase shook his head, his mouth too full to speak.
“Go on,” Lauren said. “You know you’ll enjoy it. I’ll do the dishes.”
Steve felt uneasy leaving her. “I’d rather you came.”
“I’m okay. Kids, life jackets, and wait for your dad.”
Bunkie was thrown onto the table and Chase closed his book with a bang, then the kids ran for their jackets, giggling as they raced each other.
“I’m so tired. You’re killing me,” Steve said.
Lauren smiled a knowing smile. “You love it, really. Maybe I can give you a little massage later, ease any stiffness from the walk.”
“I’m feeling stiffer already.” Steve felt a warmth flare below his gut. “But I’m concerned about you. You had me really worried.”
Lauren looked down at her hands and sighed. “It’s hard to make sense of ... I think it was the stress of losing the cabin,” she said. “It was like losing Dad all over again. I think I just flipped, but it’s gone now.” She smiled at him, and he knew she was trying to show him she was fine.
“You sure? The chair?”
“Yes, we have a possessed rocking chair.” She waited for that to sink in. “Go, have fun, come back, and have more.”
He drank the last of his wine and set off down to the lake. Turning back, he could see her. Surrounded by the last rays of the setting sun, she glowed red. She moved toward the rocking chair; it seemed to rock toward her as she turned to sit in it. She sat down, the lady in white, her golden curls framing her perfect face. She was shrouded in sunshine. As the sun sank further, she appeared like a golden girl rocking, a picture of perfection.
Steve could only stare; he loved this woman with all his heart, and this was a vision he would never forget. He turned to walk to the lake but took one last look back. The chair rocked back and the breath was torn from his lungs. A terrified child was tied to the chair. A young girl, maybe twelve, with blood covering her battered face and splattered down her clothes. Her face was a mask of sheer terror. She screamed silently as the chair reached its zenith.
Steve stumbled forward, trying to run back to the chair, but the image was gone.
Lauren sat there. Was her hair shorter? Her face seemed strained. But her white dress was perfect. No blood spoiled its flowing symmetry as the chair rocked forward.
Something grabbed his arm. Steve pulled it away violently and looked down, his fist clenched.
“Daddy, we’re waiting,” Lucy said.
Steve cursed under his breath and stopped the blow he had intended on whoever grabbed him. Sweat ran down his back as he realized he had nearly hit Lucy. He turned back to the chair. “Sweetie, wait here.”
Lauren rocked gently backward and forward, looking so comfortable. Steve felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked back at Lucy. She smiled expectantly up at him. He looked back at Lauren. Nothing. She just rocked back and forward. It was just Lauren; it must have been a trick of the light. He shook himself and looked again.
“Just five minutes, and then I’ll do the dishes, go slave driver,” Lauren shouted.
She smiled and closed her eyes. Her grin set his teeth on edge and strummed his nerves like a nail scratched across a black board.
Lucy tugged his arm again. “Daddy, is you okay?”
His heart raced against his chest as he watched Lauren rock for a few more seconds. She was relaxed, comfortable, and presented an idyllic picture. The nightmare image didn’t return. Maybe it was he that was going mad?
“Yes, Daddy’s fine.” He reached down and swooped Lucy onto his shoulders, his right hand clasping his chest as they walked to the lake.
Chapter 21
Steve sat in bed, frustrated. An empty glass of red wine had left a stain on the bedside table. He found himself staring at it as the red soaked into the white cotton. It looked like spilt blood. He looked away, at the wooden bedroom door, firmly closed. He was getting annoyed.
Lauren had promised to come to bed over half an hour ago but had still not appeared. Tutting loudly at her absence, he wondered if he was being selfish. Throwing back the covers, he walked to the kitchen.
He had left the hall light off, not wanting to disturb the children, which left the kitchen dark. As he approached, a strange glow was coming from one corner. Slowing as his pulse kicked up, he walked through the door. A shiver ran down his spine and he slowed even further, taking care with each step. What was it? What was there? Things were just wrong here, he could feel it. His steps had slowed so much that he was reluctant to move, to discover wha
t caused the light, and the room seemed to darken.
From the corner came a noise, a shuffle. Behind him, a malformed shadow leaped across the wall. He turned toward it, almost pulling his neck, but it was gone. In the opposite corner, a soft light silhouetted a shape; this must have caused the shadow. What new danger lurked in wait?
Part of him wanted to go back to the bedroom, but what if Lauren was in danger? His arms rose with goosebumps and he clenched his fist and stepped toward the corner, every nerve on edge. There was movement in the shadows.
Inching forward bit by bit, time slowed to a snail’s pace as he crossed to the movement, his fist raised, ready to let go with all he had. There was a whooshing sound and a figure appeared. He jumped at it and stopped himself just in time. The fridge door finally closed and his eyes adjusted, making out Chase.
The boy had a glass of milk in his hand and walked groggily toward his father.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Chase said. “Night, Dad.” He walked past his dad and down the corridor, the door closing as he went back to bed.
Steve looked around the kitchen. Everything was so normal. The rustic wooden units, the oak table, the curtains drawn against the world, so why was he on edge? Was it him seeing things? Had the pies really happened? He knew they had, knew there was something wrong with Lauren, but was there something wrong with him also? He had nearly hit both his children and he was seeing impossible things, things that just could not be there.
Lauren’s recipe book lay on the bare counter side. He straightened it and as it moved, a cockroach walked away from the book. Its stubby little legs made it glide across the counter and its shell gleamed in the dark. Steve pulled back in disgust.
He swept them both to the floor. The book landed with a loud thump and appeared to be slick, covered in blood. Stepping back, he stamped on the cockroach with more vehemence than was necessary.
The book looked normal. He shoved it aside with his foot. As he did, a shadow appeared, shrouding the doorway.
A deep chill ran through him and he froze. It coalesced around the doorway, a darkness that flowed and moved. Darker than the rest of the room yet opaque and insubstantial. Gray shapes formed and moved within its depths, like figures turning and reaching, grasping from within the dark. Through the inky shadow he could see Lauren, sitting in the chair. She looked different.
He stared at the shadow, afraid for Lauren. Would it threaten her? Would it stop him from getting to her? He wanted to run from it, but he had to get to her and he tentatively stepped toward the door. Taking little steps, moving inch by inch toward the shape as it shifted and reformed, darker now, with silver shadows, and now lighter. His heart pounded, and blood rushed within his ears, but as he got closer and looked harder, it seemed to slink away. It was as if it was never there. He walked out onto the deck, wondering if he was losing his mind.
Lauren sat in the chair. Her hair looked different. Was it shorter, straighter than it had been earlier? It didn’t matter. A sense of relief overwhelmed him; she seemed fine.
She was looking away from him, rocking gently in the pale moonlight. He wanted to go to her, to pull her to him, but something stopped him, so he sat down at the table. “When did you change your hair?” he asked.
“I haven’t.” Her voice seemed deeper than normal.
“Are you coming to bed?”
Lauren looked away from him, rocking gently back and forth. She looked wickedly happy with herself as she continued to rock. Her right hand was clenched over something. As she rocked, it went to her mouth and slipped something in, just as a child would a favorite treat.
She rocked backward and crunched down on the tasty morsel as she replied, “You can’t make me stay in the house.”
Steve was confused. “That’s not what I meant. Just come in. It’s late.”
Lauren stood from the chair. As she turned, the manic grin dropped from her face and she faced him as his loving wife.
He tried to return her smile but the white dress reminded him of a shroud, and a shiver crept down his spine. Goosebumps rose on his arms and he could smell that disgusting pie again.
Lauren walked past him into the cabin.
Fatigue weighed down on him and he rubbed his hand through his hair. What was happening?
He followed her into the cabin. It felt normal, no oppression, no shadows; he really was losing it. Of course, the stress would affect him too. The tension between them, the money worries, his health, and now selling the cabin when he knew what it meant to Lauren. Fatigue was like a coal sack on his back and he headed straight to the bedroom, his thoughts of a romantic evening overshadowed by exhaustion.
“I’ll just kiss the kids goodnight,” Lauren whispered.
“Don’t wake them.” He stopped in the doorway to watch her enter each room, still afraid to leave her with them.
“Nothing will wake them tonight,” Lauren called over her shoulder as she stepped into Lucy’s room.
Lucy slept like an angel. Bunkie was grasped close to her chest and her golden curls framed her face. Her breathing was steady, her face relaxed. Lauren bent over and kissed her forehead, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl’s forehead.
As she stood, she slipped a cockroach onto the bed and watched as its abhorrent, shiny black body scurried across the pink sheet and under the covers. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” Lauren said.
She pulled a kitchen knife from her sleeve. Its wickedly long blade gleamed in the moonlight. She rubbed it across Lucy’s forehead and raised it as if to strike.
“You done in there?” Steve asked from the doorway.
Lauren tucked the knife back into her sleeve and turned to face Steve. “I could watch her sleep all night,” she said. “She’s just so cute.”
Steve smiled. “Yes, she is. Now let’s get some sleep.”
Chapter 22
Steve walked with the children along a radiant forest path. The sun warmed his face and the view of the trees brought a smile to his face but his legs felt heavy. Taking a big breath of crisp, clean air, he looked down. Concrete blocks were tied to his shoes.
Confusion was his first emotion, followed by fear. A scream clawed up his esophagus and as he let it out he snapped awake with the scream still lodged in his gullet. The fear had lined his throat with bile and his heart raced in his chest. Take deep breaths; it’s just a dream, he told himself as the bedroom came into focus, dimly lit but normal.
As his pulse began to slow, he noticed the cabin was quiet. Good, the kids were sleeping in after their long walk. He snuggled down again. The walk had taken it out of him too and he wanted to stay asleep for just a little longer. Reaching over for Lauren, his fingers searched the cool sheets, wanting to find her soft warmth, to snuggle her close.
His skin glanced across something coarse, not her night-dress.
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and peered across. The light seemed too bright and he blinked, trying to focus. Lauren was sitting up, silhouetted by the morning sunshine; she was fully dressed in an old-fashioned tweed-looking skirt and a flowered blouse. Her lips were pulled back from her teeth, her eyes hooded, and she was watching him.
“Hi, honey, you been up long?” he asked.
“I like to watch you sleep. You’re so vulnerable.”
“Thanks, I think.” He sat up. She looked different again; he had to keep up. No wonder she was mad at him if she tried so hard and he kept missing the changes. “You look great,” he said. Knowing the compliment was weak, he searched for something better, but she interrupted his thoughts.
“Let me make breakfast.” She smiled, her hand over the side of the bed holding the kitchen knife. As she turned it, it reflected light up at the ceiling.
Steve spotted the flashes and tried to reach over to see what caused them. He was blocked as she angled her body.
“That’s okay. It’s my turn,” he said, wanting to keep her happy.
“Okay.” Before he could see it, she slipped the knife up the sleeve
of the old-fashioned blouse and walked out of the bedroom.
That’s what it is. She’s been wearing skirts, a blouse, and scarves. She’d been really trying to look special and he hadn’t even noticed that she wasn’t in her normal jeans. No wonder she was pissed; his attitude wouldn’t help with her stress.
Steve stood in the cabin doorway. As he watched, Lauren rocked in the chair. Lucy was snuggled up on her lap, her face buried in her mother’s neck. It seemed she had forgotten or forgiven the earlier incident but Steve still worried. Was Lauren likely to hurt her?
Lucy clutched Bunkie tightly to her chest. It was a sight any father would love, but it froze his heart and he waited for the worst to happen. The chair rocked backward and forward, a wonderful sight, yet his stomach and shoulders were clenched. He took in a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Everything was fine; he could hear Lucy giggling as she enjoyed the time with her mum as they rocked gently backward and forward, backward and forward. Steve turned and went back into the cabin.
Lauren and Lucy continued to rock. The chair was caught in the autumn sunshine which was bright today and a gentle breeze would gently lift Lucy’s curls as they rocked backward, dropping them on their return.
Steve stepped back into the sunshine, the camera in his hand. He knelt down to get the right angle and watched the girls through the view-screen. He waited for the perfect shot, the chair in midflight, Lucy’s hair raised. He took a picture just as the chair rocked forward. She looked toward him, and the camera captured her laughing face.
Steve felt his heart sing; it was a beautiful shot, one he would treasure. The chair rocked backward and he froze. Through the view-screen, he saw Lucy covered in blood.
In shock, he took the picture again, the camera flashing over the horrendous image and freezing it in his mind. Her bloody face was distorted in pain, or was it terror?
Daddy Won't Kill You- The Haunting in the Woods Page 10