The line went dead, as though he’d never been there at all. Lisa returned to the suite to find Angel hadn’t budged.
“Angel? Daddy is…having some trouble with the car, and I don’t know when he’ll be back. Do you want to go downstairs to the restaurant?”
She shook her head.
“How about room service?”
A noncommittal shrug. Angel’s favorite game, testing Lisa’s patience.
“Well, I’m going to order something, so I need to know one way or the other.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Fine, but I don’t want to hear in five minutes that you’ve changed your mind.”
“Okay.” Angel finally left the doors and arranged her dolls and stuffed animals on her bed. Lisa buzzed the front desk to order a fourteen-dollar burger and fries, along with two sodas. Angel could snack on the Cheez-Its and other portable food they’d packed.
When the concierge knocked on the door, Lisa debated whether to ask if she had witnessed the bizarre astrological phenomenon. But the woman’s plastic smile creeped her out, so she pressed thirty dollars into her hand to get rid of her. By the time Lisa turned back, Angel had already changed into her pajamas and tucked herself into bed. Lisa set her dinner on the desk next to the flat-screen TV.
“Angel, are you all right?”
“I’m going to bed. Good night, Mommy.”
Lisa instinctively pressed a hand to Angel’s forehead. Perfectly cool. “All right. Good night, Angel.” Lisa switched off the light beside Angel’s bed. She retrieved her meal and absently munched on a French fry. When Angel’s breathing slowed into the gentle rhythm of sleep, Lisa clicked on the TV remote. Nothing strange. But there wouldn’t be; the stations aired from the nearest major city.
Lisa looked over at Angel, thumb firmly lodged in her mouth. She was already developing an overbite, but they weren’t about to waste money on braces before all her permanent teeth came in.
Angel breathed softly through her parted lips. In times like this, Lisa almost believed in the illusion of innocence.
“Reports have been coming in from Lake Passage regarding a strange anomaly in the sky,” said the Ken doll on the news, bleached teeth gleaming under the studio lights. “Residents are calling it a ‘hole’—an empty black patch darker than the rest of the sky. Experts, however, say it’s most likely a previously undiscovered supervoid, an area of the universe in which there are few or no galaxies.”
“Sure it is.” Lisa turned off the TV and slipped into a t-shirt and sweatpants. She snapped off the light above her and let the hum of the air conditioner lull her into sleep. She dreamed of gods older than the stars, which dwelled in the dark interstices between celestial bodies and whispered in words beyond language of their special plans for her.
Jeremy never called back.
“…new updates on the unusual phenomena in Lake Passage. Police were flooded with calls throughout the night as residents claimed the ‘hole’ in the sky had continued to grow in size. In what is thus far an unrelated event, an entire family has been reported missing.”
Lisa rubbed her eyes. She had been dreaming of police and of divers. Of a little girl who wanted to be a mermaid. Of a murky lake and a blue, bloated body and the vultures with microphones and cameras that had the audacity to ask how she felt. All the old anger, the violence, rushed into her like that murderous water, and she shrieked at them, “How do you think I fucking feel?” before smashing two cell phones, a camera, and very nearly a nose. It had made for great television; no assault charges filed.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she fought them down once she realized Angel was already awake. The sliver of window where the curtains didn’t quite meet should have revealed daylight, yet blackness clung to the glass like the underbelly of some giant insect.
Still in her pajamas, Angel sat up in bed with the remote control in her lap.
“Angel, don’t watch this. It’s just going to scare you.”
“Daddy can’t come back, can he?”
Lisa’s heart freefell into her stomach. “He will.”
“You don’t want to be here alone with me.”
Unable to determine whether that was a threat or an observation, Lisa rejected a direct answer for fear of the response. “Who said that?”
Angel shrugged. “No one.” But her face betrayed her. No eye contact, sucking on her lower lip. Lisa had seen it a hundred times in Angel’s short life, always followed by a litany of insincere apologies and promises with the precocious knowledge that people would excuse her behavior due to her age.
Lisa didn’t expect her to act like an adult. She merely expected her to act like a human being.
“Angel, I know you’re lying.”
“Jessie,” she replied in an almost inaudible murmur.
Lisa rubbed her arms, hoping to dislodge the floe in her veins. “What?”
“Jessie told me.” Her gaze settled on the balcony doors. “She was out there.”
“Angel, you know Jessie died almost two years before you were even born.” Lisa tried to steady her voice, but it quaked with anger. With rage, that this child would torment her in so cruel a way. The hateful, spiteful little—
Angel released an exasperated sigh. “You said Jessie was my big sister, and she was in the ground and couldn’t come back anymore, but she did. Last night. She was right outside!”
“Enough, Angel!” Lisa marched across the room, hand raised and palm open. She’d given the girl every opportunity not to act like a monster. And if Angel refused to learn simple human decency, Lisa was more than prepared to knock it into her.
Angel flinched away, lower lip already thrust out in advance of the tears to which Lisa had become immune. Then she glanced at the TV, pressed a finger against her now smiling lips, and pointed at the screen.
“Breaking news out of Lake Passage this morning. Residents are now claiming that the sun never rose. That’s right—the sun did not rise over the resort town, according to calls placed by residents.”
Lisa hurried to the balcony doors. Her eyes had merely deceived her earlier. She flung open the curtains to greet the day as Angel watched in resigned silence.
“Steve Johnson is in the Channel 4 chopper. Steve, what can you tell us? How do things look over Lake Passage?”
Tears simmered in her eyes again. She clenched her fists and bit her lip until she tasted blood. “This isn’t happening!” she shouted, as if her voice might break apart the oily darkness that had consumed the sky.
“I don’t know how to put this, Evan. I can’t even see it. It’s like Lake Passage isn’t there anymore.”
Lisa paced the bathroom, phone to her ear and the screen damp with sweat. “Jeremy, I have to get out of here.”
“I don’t know what to do, babe. The road ends up right back here, and the ferry…it never came back.”
“The town is completely dark! They’ve told everyone to stay where they are, but for how long? What are we supposed to do locked in a fucking hotel room?”
“Hey, at least you have Angel. Maybe you can get down to whatever’s been bothering her.”
“Bothering her?” Lisa’s head reeled, as though her brain wasn’t getting enough blood. She slumped onto the toilet. “We’re talking about the same child, right? Do you know what she said to me? She said she saw Jessie last night. She is doing this shit on purpose!”
“She’s a special kid. Just having a tough time.”
“Oh, that’s right. Why should you care? Jessie wasn’t yours.” Lisa tried to bite back the scornful laugh that exploded out of her, but Jeremy didn’t deserve the courtesy. “You know goddamned well there’s something wrong with her. You’ve seen what she…Forget it. I’ll find a way out of here myself, and then you and your ‘special kid’ can have some quality time together.” She ended the call and peered out of the bathroom. Angel stared intently at the balcony doors, her body rigid.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have to be with them.”
/>
“With who, Angel?”
Angel scooted around until she was facing Lisa. She smiled sweetly, but it did not brighten her empty, emotionless eyes. “Thank you, Mommy.”
“For what?” Lisa grabbed her sweatshirt from the back of a chair. It was July, and the air conditioner buzzed on its lowest setting, yet she might have been standing in the middle of an Antarctic blizzard for the convulsive shiver that jolted her.
“For bringing me home.” Angel pressed her face and hands against the glass and watched whatever only she could see in the shadows outside.
“Angel, please get away from the doors.” Usually Nickelodeon did the trick, at least for an hour or two, but Angel wasn’t falling for it this time. Lisa massaged her temples.
We’re still getting TV signals, phone signals…The town is still here.
“Angel.” Her name left a sticky film in Lisa’s mouth, like drinking too much soda. Jeremy’s idea, of course.
“You’re not my real mommy.”
Lisa nearly choked on her water. It was all she could do, God help her, not to hit the kid. “Did Jessie tell you that, too?”
“I have to go. I have to be with them.” She made a dash for the door, but Lisa swept her up before she grabbed the handle and hauled the kicking, screaming bundle back to the bed and flung her down.
“Why won’t you let me go?” Angel screeched.
“What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”
Tears streamed down Angel’s cheeks. She began to hiccup. “I don’t know! Sometimes there’s someone else in my head!” For the first—and maybe only—time, genuine fear flared in her eyes.
I told him, and he wouldn’t listen. I told him she might be schizophrenic.
“Is that why you hate me, Mommy?”
“I don’t hate you, Angel! Don’t say things like that.”
The kid sees right through you. Like you’re…
Water.
In the silence that followed, Angel stopped squirming, and her breathing slowed. She cast a sullen gaze at the balcony doors.
“They want me to go outside. They want me to come with them.”
“Who does? Tell me, Angel. I won’t get mad.”
She said nothing.
“Just trust me,” Lisa whispered. She buried her face in Angel’s vanilla-scented blond hair and rocked the little girl in her arms. She pretended Angel was someone else. “For once, just trust me. Please.”
“It’s the dead people, Mommy.” Her tiny voice barely rose above the humming air conditioner. “The dead people are in the dark, and they’re waiting for me.”
Lisa squeezed her tighter. “I won’t let them get you. I promise.”
Angel let out a defeated sigh but offered no further explanation. “Go to sleep, Mommy,” she said at last. “There’s nothing else we can do.”
Goosebumps pebbled Lisa’s flesh. “All right. Put your pajamas on.”
Angel hopped off the bed and knelt before the dresser. She pulled out a purple unicorn nightgown and laid it out on the floor. When she looked up at Lisa, her eyes were more human than Lisa ever remembered. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“For what?”
She wriggled out of her sparkly “Princess” t-shirt, polka-dot skirt and tights, then dropped the nightgown over her head. She pursed her lips and shrugged, her face once again a blank page. But it was too late, Lisa thought, to write anything there now.
“Nothing.”
Lisa jerked awake to the sound of rain splattering the balcony doors and the morning news droning from the TV she didn’t remember leaving on. Rumpled covers on Angel’s bed, but no Angel. Lisa listened for the toilet flushing.
“…tragic development in the bizarre story unfolding in Lake Passage…”
“Angel?” Lisa flung aside the blankets. She checked the closet, the hall, under the beds. Shoved back the shower curtain and braced for Angel to leap out at her, but the shower revealed nothing except porcelain and ceramic.
“Hundreds of calls have been pouring into neighboring police stations from the town that has already suffered several inexplicable events…”
“Angel!” Lisa tore across the room to the balcony and ripped the curtains out of her way. She expected the starless, impenetrable darkness, but not the viscous red fluid dribbling down the glass. Lisa traced a fingertip along one of the trails. More splashed onto the concrete balcony, onto the metal patio set. Onto the cars in the parking lot, the asphalt, and the roofs of darkened buildings across the street. Lisa unlocked the door and slid it open. Red droplets spattered against her skin. She dipped her finger into the liquid and lifted it to her face, examining it from every angle. She sniffed it. Coppery. Extended her tongue despite her better judgment and absorbed the salty, metallic tang.
It was raining blood.
Lisa edged her way onto the balcony, the rain hot on her skin and hissing as it struck pavement. She didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to see her daughter smeared across the parking lot and admit she’d reached the point where relief just might have nudged out grief in the battle of emotions.
Lisa opened one eye and peered over the railing.
Nothing.
“Residents now claim that every single child in Lake Passage vanished sometime during the night. Authorities are at a loss to explain just what is happening in the beleaguered town. Psychiatrists have suggested some kind of mass hysteria or psychosis, possibly fungal in nature.”
Lisa snatched her phone from the nightstand. The call went straight to Jeremy’s voicemail; no doubt his phone had died by now, and he’d left his charger here.
“Police are urging residents to stay inside and not to look for the children. Local authorities are investigating the mass disappearance, and we will keep you updated as new information comes to light.”
Lisa yanked on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then thrust her feet into her New Balance sneakers.
Just bought them. Awfully hard to get out bloodstains.
Her laughter shattered the crypt-like silence. She could have laughed for hours at the absurdity of it all. Jeremy bringing them here, even now. Or ever. As though he wanted her to suffer. Wanted to punish her for not being able to love Angel the way she ought to. She was only human. She didn’t have the strength Angel required; she doubted anyone did.
Lisa aimed the remote control at the TV, her thumb hovering over the power button as the newscaster leveled his gaze at her. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “We know,” he said, the words knives inside her brain. “We know all about you.”
She hurled the remote at the screen, the newscaster’s face exploding into multicolored ribbons, but it did not silence the voice that had crawled uninvited into her head. Lisa slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and marched to the door. In the hallway’s stillness, the fluorescent lights buzzed like hornets. No doors opened; no housekeepers with carts trundled down the corridor. Lisa marched to the elevator and jabbed the Down button. The lights hissed and sputtered.
The lobby revealed vacant concierge and front desks. No bellhops, no tourists, no one at all. If everyone had heeded the police’s advice, they’d done so in alarmingly thorough fashion, making themselves as scarce as their lost children.
Good for them. But I’m not letting another one slip away.
The greasy darkness seeped in through the windows and lobby doors, coating the hotel in a red-tinted half-light only partially penetrated by the lamps and overheads. Lisa pushed open the doors and surveyed the barren town. Crimson liquid sloshed through the gutters on either side of the street and into the storm drains.
This is what you always wished for. Secretly, you wished she would disappear.
“Shut up,” Lisa whispered. She walked toward Main Street, her heartbeat and the splash of her footsteps the only sounds. The perpetual, sticky night smothered her like a pillowcase over her head.
No signal on her phone. She jammed it into her bag, hurrying to the nearest streetlight and its comforting glow. T
he lamp fizzed loudly.
The dead people are in the dark.
A child’s imagination. A very ill child.
Lisa scanned the shapes around her, trees and shops in various shades of gray and black. No movement that she could discern. She pulled her sodden sweater tighter.
She took a deep breath to steel herself and walked toward town.
Lisa didn’t know whether to be reassured or terrified by the fiery light in the southern sky.
The lake.
She imagined it swelling with bloody waters.
Angel would never go there. Unlike Jessie in every conceivable way, she hated water. Always had. Even now, bath time resulted in violent tantrums. They’d had her tested for a water allergy, but she was perfectly normal.
Physically.
Where am I going? What am I even looking for?
The squat wooden buildings, typical of resort towns, offered no solutions. Hand-painted shingles announcing each structure’s purpose swayed in a non-existent breeze. God, it was humid. Somewhere in the darkness, the lake lapped against the piers and the shore. Wood and rope creaked as moored boats strained to free themselves.
Jessie’s death colored everything, of course, but Lisa would have hated Lake Passage regardless. The people here were like the lake, their placid demeanors hiding countless secrets deep beneath the surface. Having despised her small hometown, she failed to understand Jeremy’s attachment to his. She didn’t understand many things about him, his callous disregard for her feelings most of all. This town had taken everything from her.
A sign that in the growing reddish light—she was happy to see light at all; its unnatural color mattered little at the moment—read Lake Passage Historical Society and Visitors’ Center groaned as if pushed by an unseen hand.
…dead people in the dark…
Lisa jiggled the knob. Locked, of course. Even in this isolated place, the troubles of modern-day life intruded.
In the distance, atop a hill on the other side of town, a spire prodded the ebony sky. She’d never had much use for religion, at least not her mother’s hateful brand of it. That was the only kind that got any attention these days. For her mother, it absolved her of any personal responsibility for her life when she could simply chalk it up to “God’s will.” A crutch for an already weak woman who took out her failures on everyone around her. And even when she found herself alone and on the cusp of old age, when she had alienated all friends and family because they feared becoming the latest subject of her convoluted lies, the charade of her perpetual victimhood saved her once again. People had always been cruel to her; now they had abandoned her completely.
13 Night Terrors Page 35