The Witcher Chime

by Amity Green

Hornet gave a fake sneeze, so Chaz worked his fingers faster, but instead of closing his eyes and getting lost in puppy dreams, the dog skittered quickly to all fours, tail lowered and one ear pricked. The other busted ear hung half-limp. He stepped toward the door, looking beyond where Savannah leaned. A low rumble pronounced in the quiet room.

  She hadn’t heard the dog growl in a long time. The door was mostly shut so Chaz could read without being interrupted.

  Chaz looked through the crack at her then to his ruffled dog. He shut the book and sat cross-legged. Hornet sniffed loudly, tilting his head so he could pull in the scent from the hall. He snorted, shaking his head, then backed away. Savannah looked behind her, but there was nothing to snort at. She shrugged at Chaz.

  “Aw, do you need to go out?” Chaz asked, getting to his feet.

  A rotten smell built around them like rising sewer water. Savannah chilled, remembering the scent from the night Molly had her “nightmare.” Chaz plugged his nose with a thumb and forefinger.

  “That wasn’t him,” he said, saving his dog from the inevitable finger pointing from his sister. “Hornet, c’mon boy.” He walked toward the door.

  “Hold on, Chaz,” Savannah held out a hand. There was nothing in the hall. She opened his door the rest of the way, searching his room. Still nothing. “That smell isn’t good,” she said.

  “It wasn’t him, Vannie,” Chaz said. “Now move. C’mon, boy.” Chaz started around Savannah, but Hornet barked twice and backed away. Ears lowered, the dog stared out the door, hackles up.

  The floor creaked behind her. Savannah turned, scanning the brightly lit hallway.

  “It’s probably just Molly,” Chaz reasoned.

  Sunshine poured inside from the tall window at the end of the hall. The smell was so strong her stomach rolled over.

  “I feel like I’m getting carsick,” said Chaz. Hornet gave in to an all-out barking, snarling fit.

  “Let’s go.” Savannah moved aside so Chaz could come out.

  “Outside, Hornet,” Chaz said, with a hand over his mouth and nose. Hornet whined and stepped into the hall like he’d done something wrong, tail between his legs.

  “We should tell Momma about the smell.”

  Savannah didn’t respond, just nodded, more to comfort Chaz than anything. He stepped into the bright hallway, looping a finger into his dog’s collar to pull him along. It was nearly impossible because Hornet dug his feet into the floor and cried.

  “Come on, Hornet,” Savannah cooed, patting a knee. Chaz’s eyes watered from the smell and he used his free hand to wipe at his face. The dog wouldn’t budge in the direction of the stairs. Instead, Hornet put his head down and ran straight toward the window. The collar popped from Chaz’s grip.

  “Ow,” he complained, shaking his stinging fingers. “Hornet, no!”

  The dog didn’t stop, just barreled ahead and smashed through the glass. Shards flew as Chaz’s bedroom door slammed shut behind them. Mother’s big pictures rattled against the walls. The door opened and slammed again, harder than before. Savannah grabbed Chaz by a hand and pulled him toward the stairs.

  “No! Hornet’s out there!” he yelled over the din, ripping his hand from her grasp.

  “We’ll get him down. Come this way!” She grabbed his other hand and yanked him along.

  Chaz jerked free and backed toward the broken window. The rug at the opposite end of the hall rolled and blew toward him as if a strong wind came inside the house. He squinted as his hair whipped against his forehead. His hands flew from his ears and back to his nose and mouth against the scent of something dead.

  “Momma!” Chaz yelled.

  Hornet howled from outside the window, where the porch roof met the house. Chaz ran as fast as he could and squeezed through the busted up glass pane.

  “No, Chaz!” Savannah yelled. She ran from the stairs, reaching for him but he was too fast. His shorts caught, and a jagged point cut the inside of his leg. His forearm was bleeding too, but he jerked loose and landed outside the broken window. Beyond the top of Chaz’s head, Hornet came into view at the edge of the roof, looking over his shoulder. Everything quieted as he took two steps toward his dog.

  Savannah peered through jagged shards, but the hole wasn’t nearly big enough for her, too. And once she was out there, what then? There was no way down, and she couldn’t drag Chaz and his dog back through without cutting them up more.

  “Come back inside, Chaz, please? You could fall.”

  “Hornet won’t come back in. I’m scared, Vannie.” He squatted against the side of the house.

  “I’m getting a ladder, Chaz. Stay right there and don’t get close to the edge.” She ran downstairs and straight out the back. Her heart pounded in her throat. The latch to the shed wouldn’t open fast enough.

  “Come on!” she yelled. The latch clicked the second time and she scrambled inside, retrieving a tall ladder. Balancing the length at her waist, she ran best she could for the front of the house.

  What was left of the window glass erupted, flying like shrapnel as she rounded the corner. She dropped the ladder. Sharp debris burst out, blasting into Chaz. Hornet took three running steps and dove from the roof. Chaz ran to the edge, bleeding and teetering, eyes only on his dog.

  Hornet hit the grass, bounced, and ran down the driveway without a glance behind him.

  “Hornet!” Chaz shook, looking at the ground.

  “Don’t you do it!” Savannah yelled. She could tell he was thinking, if the dog could jump without getting hurt, maybe he could, too. Wind screamed from inside the house, and a door slammed as the tirade began anew.

  A black silhouette stood in the opening, the large frame of a man Dad’s size. Two gloved hands planted on the wooden window sill, and when the man leaned out, the large head of a mountain lion protruded.

  “Chaz!” Savannah screamed. She grabbed the awkward ladder and started across the yard, keeping her eyes on him as best she could. “I’m right here. I’m coming. Look at me!”

  He’d already turned toward the window. Forgetting where he stood, Chaz placed a foot behind him to step back but there was no more roof to stand on. He jerked his weight forward but his leg slid down the soffit, scraping hard enough to draw blood. He got his balance, but started to cry.

  The front door opened. “What are you doing, Savannah?” Mother asked. “What’s all this noise and screaming about?”

  Savannah looked from her to the roof. She was almost there. She ran to the side of the porch and propped the ladder up where she could still see the window and the monster hanging out of it.

  “Stop!” Caroline approached slowly, but stayed on the porch where she had no view of Chaz on the roof.

  The cat snarled, then screamed loud. The thing burst from the ruined window and slammed into Chaz’s chest, knocking him from the porch roof. Savannah let go of the ladder and ran. Air grunted free of her little brother’s chest as his body slammed, back flat, to the ground in front of the porch. She ran hard but time seemed to slow as she sprinted.

  Mother came down the porch steps. “Chaz! Oh, my baby!” She ran toward him.

  One of Chaz’s arms jerked straight up, pointing at the sky. “Momma, make it stop!” He wailed, shrill like a doe stuck in a fence, as his elbow snapped in the wrong direction. Wet bone grated as the arm doubled over, Chaz’s hand landing next to his shoulder as if the limb was released from above. His elbow followed, pulled only by skin holding it close.

  “Chaz!” Savannah neared, but Caroline beat her there.

  “Oh my God!” Caroline reached to pull Chaz into her arms. Electricity popped and she was thrown free onto her side. She jumped up just as Savannah reached Chaz.

  “Chaz?” Savannah knelt beside her little brother, gingerly extending a hand to test for an electrical shock. There wasn’t one so she brushed shards of glass from his cheek.

  He didn’t answer, eyes wide as he stared into the sky.

  “Don’t touch him!” Mother yanked Savannah backwar
d by her hair. She scooped Chaz up and ran with him toward the truck.

  Savannah sat up, watching through tears as Dad’s old Dodge tore out of the yard. Once the sound of the truck’s motor was just a purr from the distance, she rose to her feet, brushing grass, dirt, and a loose clump of her hair from her shirt.

  The house was dark. Curtains from the second-story window puffed free, hanging out onto the porch roof, snagged in glass.

  “Daddy!” Savannah cried, going to her knees. “Daddy!”

  No one answered.

  ***

  Chapter 9

  “Hornet,” Molly called down the hillside. They’d never give up looking for their brother’s dog. Somewhere deep down, Savannah knew Chaz was okay because their mother would have taken him to the hospital. Caroline might hate her daughters, but she loved Chaz like a mother should.

  “Here boy,” Savannah yelled, then let out a long whistle. She scanned the trees and brush, waiting and hoping to see a patch of yellow fur appear as the dog bounded up the hill toward them. She missed Chaz with all her heart, and the next best thing she could think of would be to find his mangy beast of a dog.

  “It’s no use, Savannah. That dog hit the road running and ain’t coming back.” Molly stared down the driveway for a moment longer, then turned toward the house.

  Savannah peered up at the headgate, the letters spelling out “Witcher” dark against an intensely blue sky. She’d once planned to insist their father remove the name so it didn't loom above the new family home. Looking from the black wrought iron to the dark windows of the house, it all seemed to fit. The property would always be The Witcher Place. The freakish things that had happened would never fade from her memory, and she would see that the name above the driveway would remain as a warning to anyone who made the mistake of knocking on the front door.

  “Maybe they picked him up on the road. Hornet ran toward town.”

  Molly shook her head. “Do you think we’ll ever see either of them again?”

  “I don’t know,” Savannah kicked a rock off the drive.

  “She hates me,” Molly said, looking down. She picked up a stick and picked the bark off. “I guess I can’t blame her.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Molly. None of this is your fault.” Savannah waited for an answer but didn’t pry when Molly remained quiet. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I’m scared of our house,” Molly said, but didn’t make eye contact. “It’s the first time in my life I want to go to school.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, too. It’s the only thing that’s normal now.”

  Molly didn’t respond. They watched the wind blow around the trees in silence.

  “I miss Chaz,” Molly said, with a tight jaw. She lost the fight against a wall of emotions and dropped her face in her hands, sobbing.

  Savannah pulled her close and hugged her hard. “So do I.” She let her own tears fall. “But I’m here with you. Please don’t shut me out, because you’re all I’ve got, too.”

  Molly nodded against her shoulder, wiping her face on the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt. She stood straight, gaining control. “I won’t.”

  Savannah wiped her own tears away. With a final look around, they headed back to the house.

  * * *

  Savannah never thought of their tiny school in Cripple Creek as sanctuary before. It was the last week of May, nearly three weeks since they’d seen their mother. Dad seemed to be back to himself most times, but didn’t want to talk about Chaz and Caroline. The plan to go back to church dissolved after one awkward Sunday. He got the girls up for school each morning like nothing was wrong. He dodged questions and obviously lied to the school about Chaz because the assistant principal asked how her mom and Chaz were doing on their trip. Savannah was so frustrated she wanted to slap her dad, but found herself lying, telling the staff at school the trip was going great. After no help or honesty from their dad, Savannah announced she and Molly were going to look for Chaz and Mother. Their father stated he’d have Savannah picked up for harboring a minor runaway, and did she want to start her life off with a criminal record? The issue wasn’t closed, however. It would require finesse and planning, but they were leaving as soon as she covered all the bases.

  Minutes ticked and tocked as she sat in a desk, dreading the bell announcing the end of the day and the finale of the school year. In under an hour, seniors would be released for the summer, but underclassmen, like her sister, had two more days of school. Soon it would be time to get on the bus. Each stroke of the second hand chimed through her, but she fought off tears.

  “Hey Savannah.” Metal squawked as her friend Tina slid up a chair.

  “Hi.” Savannah did her best to switch gears and smile. “What’s up?”

  “You look like the world’s on your shoulders.” Tina snugged a thick strand of red hair behind an ear. “I know we don’t talk much anymore, but you just look so sad and if you want to talk …”

  “Thanks,” she said, twirling a Bic on the desktop. “Just got a couple rough situations at home. It’ll work out.”

  Tina wore her patented, wide-eyed look of stoicism to let Savannah know she didn’t believe the brush off. After a second, she shook her head and smirked. “See, this is the problem with who you are now, Vannie. You’re pretty much unapproachable, and when someone tries to talk or help, this is what they get.”

  “I’m sorry, Tina,” Savannah locked her friend’s green-blue gaze in hopes of gathering suitable words. “You’re right. I do want to talk, but it’s crazy and you’re not going to believe any of it.”

  Tina glanced at the mere four other bodies in the room with them, then up at the remaining time before school let out. “Try me.” A genuinely warm smile followed her words, the same kindness they’d shared as far back as elementary school.

  Savannah wondered briefly why she’d let the friendship go. With a breath to steel her nerves, she began to talk just above a whisper, slowly at first, but before she knew it the story was out there between them. All the weirdness, the unbelievability, the strangeness and horror, hearing it come out of her made the last weeks surreal, so crazy she knew Tina didn’t buy a syllable.

  Tina didn’t utter a word until Savannah quieted and bit into her lip to make it stop quivering. “Where’s Molly?” she asked, quietly.

  “She’s here,” Savannah croaked.

  “We need to get you some help, Savannah.” Tina rubbed her forearm.

  Savannah’s heart dropped and she pulled away. Of course, it was all too far-fetched. She shook her head.

  “There are people you can talk to, Vannie. They can help,” Tina pleaded, being careful to keep her voice down.

  “Forget it,” she said, gathered her things. “Thanks for listening, at least.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t believe you—”

  “It’s okay. Really.”

  The seconds ran out and the school echoed with woops as students pounced into the hall with yells and high fives. Savannah stood, sighed so deeply she had to fight tears, then rose to face the evening. She didn’t look back at her friend. Her sister would need her. She trudged to her locker to clear out her things.

  Molly already had a seat on the bus, so Savannah dropped onto the bench beside her. Neither spoke. Savannah contemplated whether it had been a good idea to share so much with Tina. Odds dictated no one would ever believe her life had taken such a turn, but it had felt good letting it out. Tina wasn’t the type to blab, so her secret was fairly safe. Still, she knew in her gut it had been a mistake.

  Buildings passed from sight, then trees and brush when they were out of town. Washboards on the dirt road shook the seat, chafing her frazzled nerves and Savannah held her breath to keep from freaking out. In the seat behind them, somebody’s books vibrated off the seat and landed in the aisle with two loud bangs on the floorboard.

  Savannah came off the bench and shielded Molly, who tucked up in a ball with he
r back to the windows. All conversation stopped and the other kids stared.

  Two girls who sat a couple seats back covered their sniggers, but not before some of the words they whispered carried for the others to hear. “Crazy Caleman girls ….”

  “That’s right, bitches,” Molly shouted. “Don’t give me a reason, Michelle,” she warned, picking out the larger of the two older girls. Savannah lowered herself back to the seat but didn’t turn back around until the two girls moved their hands from their mouths and looked away, likely out of fear that she and Molly would indeed snap and pound the crap out of them both. Molly put her feet back on the floor and turned to stare out the window.

  Too soon, air hissed from hydraulics as the exit popped open like French doors to hell.

  Molly followed Savannah as they stepped to the gravel, watching the driver guide the bus to the Y in the road, turn around, and head back toward Cripple Creek. Dust settled. The sun dipped behind mountains to the west, and the temperature dropped considerably. Savannah sighed and turned to walk the remaining quarter mile to their driveway.

  “Let’s go to the Williams’ house.” Molly waited for Savannah to acknowledge, not moving.

  “They’re out east for their son’s wedding. Kim wasn’t at school, remember?”

  “Can’t we just go see if maybe they got home early?”

  “And say what?” Savannah snapped.

  “That our dad has lost it, our little brother had his arm broken by … something—”

  “And the dish ran away with the spoon.”

  “We have to try to get help, Savannah. I’m scared.”

  “So am I, but they’ll never believe us. We have to get a plan together before we just stop going home.” She approached her sister, hands on the shoulder straps of her back pack. “We’ll stick together. You can sleep in my room. We’ll talk to Dad—”

  “A fat lot of good that’ll do!” Molly pulled away.

  Savannah jerked her around by an arm. “Have a better idea?”

  “I’m not going anywhere near him.”

  “Why not? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?”