The Nothing House

by Cherie Mitchell

  “Do you know why we’ve called you here today?” Mr. Devall is talking to Bedeliah-the-phantom as if she’s one of the customers at his furniture store. Now, Ms. Farnsworth, do you want the deluxe inner sprung or the superior merino wool-topped?

  Bedeliah shakes her head, looking perplexed. “I’m afraid I do not. I thought I was assigned to eternal sleep for the duration.”

  “Do you remember the circumstances that led to your sentence of eternal sleep?” he asks gently.

  Bedeliah rubs at the red marks on her neck, which gives me an itchy, goosey feeling at the back of my head. I can’t help but wonder how she felt as she stepped up to the hangman’s noose. Did she have any last words? Protest her innocence? Pray for redemption?

  “Bedeliah? Do you feel up to talking to us? I understand that it’s probably been a long time.” I have to admit that I’m amazed by Mr. Devall’s empathy and patience. His talents are patently wasted in the furniture store.

  “The first one was a mistake,” she says in her soft, gentle voice. “He drowned in the laundry tub when my back was turned. Just a tiny mite of a child. Jonathon, my beau, suggested that I dispose of the body in his cornfield.” She is speaking to us without censure, guile, or overblown explanations, apparently aware that we know enough of her history for this to make sense to us.

  Mr. Devall nods sympathetically, as if he’s had to deal with the same problem himself in the past and understands completely.

  Bedeliah smooths down the front of her apron and continues. I sneak a look at Obidiah and I’m disconcerted to see those hot red eyes still fixed on me. I turn my head, pretending I haven’t seen him, and focus on what Bedeliah is saying. “Jonathon was not a pleasant man. He had a scathing manner of speaking that made me feel small and useless. Unfortunately, I was in a relationship with him before I discovered this and he threatened to blackmail me if I tried to leave. Tyrellton was a small community and I feared I would be ostracized if he made good on his threats. I’m afraid I took my pent up anger out on the children, often with disastrous results. I never meant to kill so many but it all started to get out of hand.” She touches her neck again. “I deserved this. I know that.”

  “Are you sorry?” Mr. Devall asks.

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorrier than I could ever say.”

  Mr. Devall stands up and walks over to the window, completely ignoring the dark splash of Obidiah in the corner. I’m beginning to wonder if he’s even seen him. We all get to our feet to watch as he pulls back the curtain to reveal the window overlooking the yard. Some of the zombie kids stop what they’re doing and crane their chewed-up necks at the window. “Can you apologize to the children?” Mr. Devall asks Bedeliah. “I have a feeling it will make a difference.”

  Bedeliah remains where she is and I realize she’s nervous. “They hate me.”

  “I’m not about to make any assumptions as to how they feel, but from my observations they seem to be having fun out there. There doesn’t seem to be too much hate in their midst,” Mr. Devall points out. I have to agree. Nostradamus and that skull football are a huge hit.

  “Well, if you think it’s okay.” Bedeliah takes a timid step forward. She looks hesitantly at Obidiah before skirting around him and joining Mr. Devall at the window. Liam, Organza, Reece, and I crowd closer, curious to see what will happen next.

  “When you’re ready,” Mr. Devall says.

  Bedeliah takes a bracing breath before rapping on the window to gain all of the zombie tribe’s attention. “I’m sorry,” she says in a clear, strong voice. “I’m deeply sorry for the pain and trauma I caused you. I wish you all nothing but goodwill and please be aware, your deaths were nothing personal. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

  I think maybe she could’ve left that last bit out but Mr. Devall is nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

  “Look!” Organza is jiggling around in excitement as she tries to wedge herself closer to the window. “Look what they’re doing!”

  Have you ever seen that old news footage where a group of local townspeople decides that the best way to remove a whale carcass from their local beach is to stuff it full of dynamite and blow it up? It starts off so well but it ends so badly with chunks of bloody whale blubber flying in all directions. What happens outside in the yard now is not quite as messy as that but, much like those townspeople, we weren’t expecting this result.

  As Bedeliah finishes her apology, the zombie children start to disintegrate. Their mangled, undead bodies breakdown and crumble into fine sand and within moments, the yard is a desert dust storm. The sand obliterates any view we have from the window and tiny particles start to find their way inside the house through every small gap, crack, and chink. Seconds later, the entire living room is covered in zombie dust and we’re blinking at each other stupidly through a layer of gritty sand.

  “I feel so much better now. You all take care of yourselves, you hear?” Bedeliah smiles a tooth-achingly sweet smile at us through the fog of dust before she fades away.

  Organza starts to sneeze. Mr. Devall claps his hands together briskly to signify the session is over, sending up clouds of dusty sand. “That went well. Now, how about we tidy up this mess?”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “You said that Madeleine told you the spell would appease her ancestor. Did the incantation she gave us work because she has a blood tie to Bedeliah? Was it essential that the spell came from a relative?” I have to get to the bottom of this. I have an idea, a dancing, swooping butterfly of an idea, and I’m determined to catch it in my net and pin it to my story board.

  “Hmmm? I really don’t know, dear.” Mr. Devall is getting ready to leave, after helping us to hoover and sweep away the mess of sand. Disintegrated zombie dust is surprisingly sticky and hard to shift and for some reason, there was an extraordinarily large pile of sand outside Reece’s doorway.

  “Could we use the same spell on Obidiah? If I asked one of his descendants to join in the chant it might work.” I take a quick peek over at the corner to see if Obidiah is still there but the black mass has gone. I think he disappeared when Organza dragged the hoover into the living room but I’m half-expecting him to reappear at any moment.

  The sound of sirens is louder now, a catcall of squealing noise out on the street, and I can see that Mr. Devall wants to be on his way. “You can try, but I can’t promise anything.”

  He holds out his hand to shake Liam’s then he leans across to brush his lips across my cheek. I catch a nostril full of the scent of peppermint sticks and eggnog. Mr. Devall must be a lovely person to be around at Christmas time.

  “Thanks anyway.” I impulsively hug him, biting back the desire to ask for a pony, and then he says his final farewells to the others and leaves.

  “I’m going to try it,” I say to no one in particular. “I’m going to ask Dave to join us to make a spell. We might be able to banish Obidiah back to where he came from.”

  Liam turns away from the window, already shaking his head before we’ve begun. “Won’t work. Madeleine gave Mr. Devall a detailed spell. We wouldn’t know where to start and we don’t have any way to get another fresh egg or sprig of rosemary.”

  “We could make up our own ingredient list, use what we have.” I remember how Mom and I made our own holy water, creating a substance that might have worked through our own creativity and determination to save our family. We’re in a very similar position now and I’d like to feel as if I’m trying to help rather than standing around waiting for fate to do its erratic thing.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The things she told him to use for the incantation were very precise items. We can’t just bundle together a heap of unrelated junk and say it’ll work.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going to give it a shot. Where’s my phone? I’m going to call Dave now.” I start searching down the back of the sofa cushions as Liam takes another quick look out the front window. “There are a lot of cops out there, Ellie.
They’re all gathered around with their heads together. They’re up to something.”

  “The Bedeliah Consequence,” Reece mutters to himself. “It’s hurting him. She took too much dark energy with her when she left.”

  “Here it is.” I’m not letting myself be drawn into a conversation about what the cops are doing, nor am I going to allow myself to be distracted by Reece. I’m on a critical mission. If we have the chance to lay Obidiah Wulfstan to rest, I’m going to take that chance. I grab my phone and go to stand with Reece, who is now gazing wistfully out the window at Nostradamus. The rocking horse is looking a little the worse for the wear after withstanding the devoted attention of the zombie kids. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s previously crazed, wild-eyed expression is now one of unadulterated terror.

  Dave answers after five or six rings, just when I was about to give up and hang up. “Dave! I’m so glad I got hold of you.”

  “Errr, hi Ellie.” He sounds distracted and vague and he’s rustling a plastic bag or something crinkly close to the mouthpiece.

  “I really need to talk to you. I need you to do something that’s vitally important for the future of my family. I need you to…”

  “I’m on a shoot, Ellie. Can’t talk.”

  Okay, I get that he’s working. I really do. But I can’t help the nasty little voice in my head that pipes up to say he’d probably make time for Jennifer if it was her who had called.

  “Who’s Jennifer?” Dammit, jealous Ellie has chosen now to raise her green-eyed head. Talk about bad timing. I really don’t care about Jennifer, whoever she is. Honestly, I don’t.

  “Huh? Ellie, I really have to go. The makeup technician is waiting for me.”

  “Makeup? What do you need makeup for? Aren’t they filming your feet?” I can feel myself starting in on an argument but I can’t stop myself. Dave and I go back a long way, way back to when he was fat little Tubby Bayfield who peed his pants when Sheriff Milroy pretended to arrest him. He’s always made time for me in the past. Something has changed between us and I’m sure this anonymous Jennifer is behind it, that low-down, scheming, underhand cow.

  “You don’t understand the trade,” he says stiffly. “There’s a lot going on behind the scenes that the average consumer doesn’t see.”

  Average consumer? Did he just call me an average consumer, lumping me in with the crowd, when I’m in fact one of his oldest and dearest friends? He’s gone too far. I’m about to give him his pedigree when Liam pulls the phone out of my hand and tosses it down onto the sofa before I can say another word. “Ellie, look out the window. Now.”

  I frown crossly out the window, only to see that the world has gone nuts out there. The Sheriff and his gang are running around frantically in a state of tightly controlled busy-ness and I don’t like what I’m seeing. It’s all too painful and familiar, this desire driven by small town mentality to destroy our family without giving us the chance to state our case or point out that we’re the innocent parties in all of this.

  We are deja voodoo, we know more than you doo.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Organza pushes herself in front of Liam and me so she can look out at the cops. They’re running to and fro like busy soldier ants at the gate and it takes me a couple of seconds to get over my bad attitude well enough to be able to see what they’re doing.

  “They’re going to light the whole place on fire with us inside,” Organza squeals. As terrifyingly inconceivable as it is, that’s exactly what they’re doing out there with their red petrol cans and their grim expressions.

  Liam yanks open the front door. “Hey! There are kids in here! What are you doing?”

  The cops’ collective response is a volley of pistol shots, one of which crackles through the window and sends a shower of glass over us all. Liam gasps and slams the door shut.

  Organza starts to whimper and wail. “I’m going to die.”

  “We’re all going to die. This is it, the end. The end of it all.” I look at Liam and notice that he is just a pale wisp of himself, haggard, drawn, measled, and aged at least ten years in an instant. I feel bad for him. I know he never expected any of this when he fell in love with me.

  “No it isn’t. We do have a way out.” Reece seems unconcerned by our rapidly approaching demise. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but my brother has many layers. He’s the original onion – peel one off and there’s another one waiting beneath it. He’s hard to crack and even tougher to peel but once you know the right way to go about it…

  “That sounds interesting, Reece. Why do you think that, hun?”

  “Because of the tunnel.”

  Ah, of course. The tunnel. Why didn’t I think of that? “What tunnel, sweetie?” I force myself to remain calm and unflustered, although it’s difficult when Liam is practically fainting at my feet and Organza has turned herself into a tightly wound ball of quivering fear.

  He looks at me and grins proudly. “The tunnel in the bottom of my closet. I only had to shift a few boards and some sand to completely uncover it.”

  We run for Reece’s bedroom and all crowd around his closet. Sure enough, there’s the tunnel disappearing down into the gloom below the house. “This might be the way that opossum found it’s way into the house,” says Liam. “It must lead to somewhere. We have to follow it.”

  “I’m not going down there,” Organza cries. “It’s all mucky and dirty.”

  Can I take a moment to point out here that my sister is currently covered in scabby measles spots, whiffs of poop from the toilet disaster, recently exploded zombie dust, glass fragments, and cupcake crumbs? I’m about to say something when the sound of a loud explosion rocks the house. Organza, moving astonishingly quickly, starts maneuvering herself into that hole in the ground as eagerly as if she’s slipping into a designer gown.

  Reece follows Organza, and then I climb down with Liam following up the rear. It’s not the nicest place I’ve ever been in and the damp earth smells awful – musty and wormy. Maggots. My flesh crawls and I’m not sure if I can do this. However, I know the tunnel is our only option if we want to survive the approaching inferno. I grit my teeth and force myself to take another step. Hunched almost in half due to the low roof of the tunnel, and slowly moving forward in almost complete darkness, we stumble blindly on as a series of continuing explosions rumble through the hard-packed dirt that surrounds us. The tunnel seems to go on forever and I force myself not to think of death by suffocation, especially as my nose is a little too close to Organza’s butt and her nervousness is beginning to make itself clear via her digestive system.

  Finally, choking and spluttering, we reach the light at the end of the tunnel. Organza climbs out and reaches back to help us up. One by one, we push up through the scratchy roots and branches of a bunch of sprawling hydrangea bushes. I know we should be gleefully congratulating each other on our lucky escape but unfortunately, the situation is far too somber for congratulations.

  We stand huddled together on the other side of the street, dirty and grimy but safely hidden by the clump of bushes. It’s pitiful to watch my dream of a better life go up in flames. I can feel the hot tears streaming down my cheeks and I know if I try to speak, it’ll just be a jumble of choked-up sounds with no discernable sense attached to any of them. I swear, this is the last time I’m putting myself through this kind of heartache. Liam turns to look at me, his eyes reflecting the orange glow of the fire, but I can’t hold his gaze while my future turns to ashes in front of me.

  “There he goes,” Reece says sadly as a cone of thick, black smoke separates itself from the flames and whirls off on its own. “He said he wanted to come with us but he’s still feeling weak from the Bedeliah Consequence. He said it’ll take time to pull himself together again.” He sniffs and wipes the back of his hand across his nose, leaving a gluey smear of grime.

  I know I should try to comfort my little brother but I can’t. Liam tries to take my hand but I won’t let him. Everything f
eels uncertain and fragile as the realization sinks in that all of my hopes have again crumbled into ashes. Sad as it is to say it, I’ve discovered that if you want something done properly you have to do it yourself. I should’ve taken more time to investigate the history of the house and land myself. Yeah, I have to admit that my trust in my boyfriend has been seriously shaken. If he’d revealed what he knew before we bought this house, none of this would’ve happened. I’m going to have to take the time to do a careful and serious reevaluation of my life choices and my future plans, I know that much.

  But there’s one thing I do know for sure. I’m not ever putting me or my family through anything like this again. Not ever. And I will find a way forward.

  There is no way in the world that I’m going to let everything we’ve been through amount to nothing.

  The End

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  The Nothing House is Book 2 in The Nothing Room series. Look out for Nothing Town, coming soon.

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