by Hunter Shea
There was a way to fix that.
Chapter Eighteen
Days later, Kate’s fever had come back and refused to be broken, leaving her feeling worse than ever. She’d called her doctor in the morning (the connection giving out several times, driving Kate to the brink of madness) and it was as she’d expected. The mélange of chemicals they’d injected into her body two months ago were still doing their thing. Like an acid trip (her analogy, not his), it could come back and hit her hard at any time. Right now, it was going full MMA on her, and there was nothing to do but grit her teeth and ride it out.
The problem was, the pain was so bad, even her teeth hurt, so gritting them was out of the question.
Andrew had taken the kayak out after she insisted she didn’t want him lurking around the cottage. There was no sense having them both trapped in there.
Kate sighed.
Trapped.
That was the last thing she’d expected to feel in her dream lake cottage.
Yet here she was, truly and madly trapped in more ways that one.
She called and left a message for Ryker. She kept playing phone tag with her brother while he was going from speaking engagement to speaking engagement. She in turn slept through his return calls. Kate missed him so much. Since his career had taken off, she’d seen less and less of him. Ryker would know how to set her at ease. Quick text messages wouldn’t do. She needed to hear his voice and tell him about the vibe the cottage was giving her, along with the strange new microwave feels she’d been suffering through. He was the one who’d coined bad feels days. He’d get a kick out of the microwave feels.
“Instead, I get Mr. Floppy Ears,” she said, rubbing Buttons’ head.
The past few nights had been mercifully quiet, but she was still having trouble sleeping after dark. That was why she wanted to watch Two for the Road and take a nice, long nap.
She checked her tablet and saw it was time to dip a hand into the mason jar. After fishing a few pills out, she swallowed them down with a meager sip of water and settled into Mooshy, which contoured itself around her head. From her vantage point, looking out at the lake, she couldn’t see the sun, but its reflection on the water burned a horizontal line right to the back porch. There was nothing more she wanted in this world than to be out there with Andrew. Knowing her, she’d challenge him to a race, the stakes typically being something he’d been wanting to do in the bedroom. Before everything had gone to shit, she’d been strong and fast and highly competitive. Even a kayak race (she’d only been in a kayak twice in her life) would net her at least 50/50 odds of winning.
If sex was on the line, there really were no losers, except that time Andrew had whipped her in miniature golf and she had to let him film them doing it in the shower. They’d watched it once after that, Kate viewing the whole thing through the slits between her fingers. Andrew had loved it, his tent-poled shorts attesting to that, but she’d hated it. The angles were all wrong, the lighting less than flattering.
Is that really the face I make when I come? Oh, no, don’t spread my cheeks for all the world to see. We look like we’re in pain.
She’d made him delete the video, and she never wagered on miniature golf again.
And here she was reminiscing about things that would never be, missing her life with her husband even though they were still together, more so now than ever.
Kate watched Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney snipe at one another in an airport diner, her eyelids getting heavy.
When the back door slid open, she practically levitated off the bed.
Andrew walked in, no longer wearing the bathing suit and his black Ramones T-shirt he’d had on when he left to go kayaking.
“Whoa, it’s only me,” he said.
Kate’s heart pulsed against the back of her tongue.
“I think I nodded off for a second. You scared me.”
“If by ‘a second’, you mean three hours, yeah, you definitely nodded off.”
He had a beer in one hand, the paper in the other. He tossed the paper by the growing pile in front of the fireplace. They hadn’t lit a fire yet because Kate was paranoid about burning the house down. But when they finally did, they’d have enough fuel in newspapers and magazines alone to keep it going for a week.
She frowned, looking at the television. There was a commercial for a water park on the Maine coast.
“Great, and I missed Two for the Road. How was the kayaking?”
He went to the kitchen to get another beer. “Great. The lake is a lot bigger than I thought. You can see a few houses tucked away, but most of them are hidden by the trees. The only way to know anyone lives nearby is by their docks. No big boats, though. Just little Sunfish and rowboats.”
Kate looked outside. The afternoon sun cast narrow shadows on the porch. The sheet felt like razor blades sliding over her flesh. Her left hand was so numb, it didn’t feel as if it were attached to her. There was a fresh bruise by her wrist. She’d most likely been sleeping on it for a while. She bruised like old fruit.
Shaking her hand, the feeling coming back in painful pins and needles, she said, “Did you meet anyone?”
Andrew settled into the chair opposite the bed. “I thought I spotted a guy walking away from his dock. Old Henry and Ida are the only people I’ve seen up close. Other than that, it’s like having our own private lake.”
Not so private, Kate thought, hearing those sounds outside their window as if they had happened seconds ago.
Andrew touched her cheeks with the back of his hand, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I can cook pancakes on your skin.”
“The phrase is fry an egg.”
He shrugged. “It’s still in the breakfast realm. I like pancakes a lot more than eggs. No matter what, you’re still en fuego. You know what? My agenda is clear for the day. How about I slip into my pajamas and we watch movies until our eyes get crossed?”
Kate thrilled at the idea. It was one of the few things she could do with her husband. Andrew existed in a restless state. Sitting for one movie was usually his limit; then he had to get up and do something. Those nights when they cuddled and went on a movie marathon were her favorites.
“I think nothing would make me happier,” she said.
Andrew stripped right there and then.
“We’ll need snacks and drinks,” he said, turning to give her a wonderful view of his buns. They weren’t as tight as they used to be, but they were hers and she loved them as much as she missed holding them.
“Come here.”
He stood beside the bed, his soft cock inches from her face. There had been a time when it wouldn’t stay soft for long. He’d loved the fact that she was not a big foreplay person. She went right for what she wanted, ready or not.
“Now turn around,” she said.
Andrew smirked, then gave a slight turn.
She reached out and gave his ass a light pinch, then smacked it.
“Hey, I charge extra for the rough stuff.”
“Now get me some pretzels and a soda.”
He gave an exaggerated bow. “I live to serve.”
God, she wanted him. But every nerve ending was raw and agitated, her skin ultra sensitive. Even the playful slap had sent ripples of sharp pain up her arms. She could try to have sex with him, but she’d be in tears in no time. The last thing she wanted to do was get him excited and let him down. It was better she live with the frustration. She’d become a world-class expert at sexual repression.
He covered the bed with bowls of junk food, got her a soda and a beer for himself, and then went into the bedroom to put on boxer shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
“Kiss me,” she said as he settled in next to her.
“You have any movies in particular you want to watch?” he said, putting his arm around her.
She handed him her tablet. “You pi
ck. I bequeath control to you.”
He chuckled. “Get ready for some brainless entertainment.”
“I expect nothing less.”
They munched (well, mostly Andrew) and watched a trio of action movies, each more outlandish and brash than the last. She hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep during the third movie until it was almost over.
By then, night had crept over the lake, and Kate’s pain pills lulled her to a numb nothing, her home away from home.
* * *
The view from the top of the swaying evergreen tree was dizzying.
Kate looked down at the roof of the cottage. The chimney remained cold and empty. She would have loved the sweet smell of woodsmoke up here.
Day turned preternaturally fast into night, the chirping of the birds on the branches beneath her fading into stillness. From this height, Kate thought she could touch the moon, but she didn’t dare take her hand off the crown of the tree for fear of falling.
The night air caressed her body, kissed her face, melded into hungry hands that probed her most tender parts. She leaned into the wind, nerves shuddering with each whispery touch.
A crash from below pulled her from her ecstasies.
Dark shapes had surrounded the cabin.
Andrew!
She screamed to get his attention but no sound escaped from her constricted throat.
They’re going to get him! Dear God, they’re going to get him.
Kate tried to climb down the tree. Her hands were coated with thick sap, sticking her to the narrow trunk like flypaper.
The shadows ran round and round the cottage until they were a solid gray blur.
When the door opened, light spilling onto the front porch, she nearly wept.
Her husband stood in the doorway, staring at the spinning shadows.
He stepped onto the porch.
No, Andrew! Go back inside!
The top porch step creaked under his weight.
The second silently supported his advance.
The oscillating wall of shadows spun faster and faster.
Please, look up! I’m here! Can you see me? Don’t go near them. Go back inside. Please, Andrew, look at me!
He squared his shoulders and ran into the wall.
A dull concussion rocked the roots of the tree. The trunk groaned as it began to crack in half.
Andrew lay stunned on the porch, his legs and arms bent into bizarre angles.
Kate pleaded with the tree to let her go. She could feel its terror through the palms of her trapped hands.
It was dying. The moon canted as the tree started to fall.
Now a scream ripped free as Kate tumbled down, down, down.
Heading toward Andrew.
The sap snapped and she broke free, flailing in the night sky.
She didn’t remember hitting the ground. She lay within the shadow wall.
Every bone should be broken, but she’d never felt better, stronger, healthier.
Her hand brushed against the wall. It was like touching the backs of bees in a hive, the kinetic energy of Mother Nature’s joy buzzer.
Kate laughed.
She was hungry.
Andrew lay broken and unconscious.
Why was he always running at things?
Running from things?
Her stomach grumbled.
The fading pulse at his neck looked so delicious.
No! I won’t do it!
An impossibly large shadow stepped into the doorway within the cottage. This wasn’t a shadow. This was real. She couldn’t discern a shape or any features, but she knew it was real.
And it was watching her.
Waiting for her to feed.
To heal.
Kate found herself on her knees beside Andrew, weeping. Hot saliva dripped from her mouth. She touched her lips to the savory pliancy of his neck. It would be so easy to bite down, to rip and tear and eat.
“Noooooooooo!”
She jerked away. The shadow thing in the cottage gave a warning grunt.
“Go to hell,” she whimpered, pulling Andrew’s lifeless, crooked arm over her body. He breathed his last breath against her neck. She nestled into his corpse, the little spoon cradled by the big spoon, willing herself to ignore the escalating cries of the shadow thing as it stormed out of the cottage.
* * *
It felt like someone had ripped the flesh from her side, exposing her steaming meat and sinew to the jaggedly cold night air. Kate awoke breathless, dizzy, utterly disoriented by the fiery agony.
Forcing herself to calm down, she looked down to see Andrew had his arm draped over her. The weight of his arm had sent her nerves into a frenzy.
Grabbing him by the wrist, she whisked Andrew’s arm away. It hit the mattress with a dull plop. He didn’t even break a snore.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much.
Rubbing her side only made it worse.
Kate shifted farther from Andrew, sweat dampening her hairline even though it had gotten quite chilly in the darkened cottage. Her tablet lay between them, the television off for a rare instant.
Plit. Plit. Plit. Plit.
The patter of tiny rocks bouncing off the roof instantly made her forget her pain.
Buttons, who was down by her feet, heard it as well and gave the ceiling a casual glance.
The droning chirp of crickets seemed louder than ever, as if they had been tasked with masking the movements of the rock thrower. Kate looked over at the kitchen and saw the window had been left open. Andrew had fallen asleep and forgotten to close it.
She felt exposed, the partially open window wide enough to allow all of her nightmares into the cottage. She and Andrew might as well have been on the porch, the door locked behind them, left out for the dark things.
Dark things?
You’re getting a little carried away with yourself.
Things were far better to consider than people. Nothing was more terrifying that people gone bad, their brains rotting like spoiled meat in the sun. Of all the atrocities Kate had been witness to during her life, all of them had been perpetrated by people, not monsters. The boogeyman didn’t shoot up schools or drive trucks into crowds of people. Ghosts didn’t hijack planes or murder families in their sleep.
People, bad people, did all of those things.
Was one of those bad people out there now?
Ka-thump!
That one got Kate to hop out of bed, heart racing.
“Andrew,” she whispered.
He stirred, turning away from her.
“Andrew,” she said, sharply this time.
“Ahoo. Ahoo.”
Andrew bolted upright. “What was that?”
“They’re back,” Kate said, trembling. “You left the window open.” She heard the accusation in her voice. When they’d gone to bed with the window closed, their nights had passed uneventfully. But Andrew had forgotten to put their talisman in place, and now their stalker was back.
It was utterly irrational, but Kate didn’t give a great goddamn.
More rocks hit the roof, sounding larger now. And then there was that “Ahoo.” Over and over, that strange cry. It rose and fell in volume, as if the maker of the bizarre hoot was circling the cottage.
“Close the window,” Kate hissed.
Andrew ran to the kitchen and paused with his hands on the window.
What the hell was he waiting for?
Whap!
A monster of a rock crashed into the house, this time sounding as if it was coming from the bedroom.
Kate couldn’t see Andrew well in the darkness, but she could discern his shape leaning into the window. She turned a light on.
“No lights,” Andrew hissed.
She quickly snapped i
t off. “Did you see anything?” she said, back to whispering.
“No. Not yet.”
She could plainly hear someone walking outside. A branch cracked and Kate slapped her hand over her mouth.
That was followed by something hitting into the sliding doors. Andrew had remembered to draw the curtains, so she couldn’t see what it had been. The temptation to open the blinds a crack and see was overwhelmed by her fear.
“What are they doing?” she said, on the verge of tears.
Andrew’s voice sounded cold and heavy, coming out of the darkness.
“They want to scare us.”
Rocks and other things continued to bounce off the house, Kate flinching every time. Her shoulders felt like they were going to break, her heart banging in against her chest.
“Ahoo!”
It was loud this time. So loud, she was sure the sound caromed off the still lake, slipping into the bedrooms of the houses nestled in the woods. To Kate, that yelp didn’t sound entirely human. Nor did it sound like any of the animals they’d listened to. It was something entirely…other.
“That’s it,” Andrew said. His footsteps thumped on the hardwood floor as he ran to the bedroom. “They’re fucking with the wrong guy.”
“Andrew? What are you doing?” Buttons started barking. She so wanted to turn a light on. The dark felt tangible, cloying. She heard Andrew open the closet door, boxes being thrown aside.
The rocks continued to pelt the house, that gut-churning Ahoo! on steady repeat.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Kate shouted, feeling like her heart was going to burst. She was feeding off her husband’s rage. Enough was enough.
Andrew strode into the living room, fully dressed and holding a huge flashlight. When he flicked it on, keeping it pointed at the floor, the entire cottage lit up.
Shielding her eyes, she said, “Where did you find that?”
Before he could answer, she saw the rifle in his other hand.
A rifle?
His breathing was ragged.
“No, you are not going out there. Where the hell did you get a gun?”