The Spinetinglers Anthology 2011

by Nolene-Patricia Dougan

  “Tonight—I saw the lights still on, I dunno how, but I knew to come to you.”

  Maggie slanted a glance at Lisa's remains. Limbs, and bloody daubs of flesh were scattered over the surgery. “Yes. Ernie I need you.”

  Ernie stared at her. “My Dad told me before he died, about what really happened to my mother, about what she became. That was her, in the mist with my father that day. You’re just like her, aren’t you? And I’m going to be one too.”

  Maggie straightened. “Yes, Ernie. It appears that I am, and you—you have your mother’s genes. We are not true coyotes, but possess many of that predator’s qualities.” Maggie rubbed her cheek against the rough denim of Ernie’s vest, needing that physical discomfort to distract her from her body’s preoccupation with Ernie’s maleness. “I find I can shift shape at will. The first time it happened, just last week at Crater Lake, I had no memory of it until now. Now I understand how to keep in touch with my human self when in predator form and when in human form, the predator...” Maggie’s mouth twitched in a wry smile, “well, she is never far.”

  Ernie bared his teeth in fierce joy. “Then we can chase the night wind together.”

  “It is in your blood, and I have chosen you,” Maggie stated simply.

  Ernie swung her off her feet with a howl of triumph.

  Maggie tipped her head back over his arm, from her throat came an ululation that twined and climbed with his.

  Moonsong with mate.

  Yes, agreed Maggie, examining the colours and feelings of that image.

  “Ernie,” Maggie finally said, her teeth tugged at his earlobe to get his attention. He shuddered as her breath stirred and whispered past his ear. “Ernie, we have things to do.”

  Ernie lowered her to the ground, releasing her reluctantly. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he adopted a thoughtful stance; stroking his chin, he eyed Lisa’s remains. “The freezer?”

  Maggie smiled fondly. “No.” Maggie said. “The gully I think.”

  Ernie's expression applauded her choice. “Of course! The train.”

  “And the coyotes,” said Maggie.

  Together they gathered the bits of Lisa's corpse onto a blanket and manoeuvred it out of the surgery to the back door. One of Lisa's arms caught in the door jam, and with the dry snap of a twig underfoot, broke at elbow. Maggie retrieved it and laid it neatly on top of the gaping ribcage.

  “Just wrap her in the blanket, I think would be best, Ernie. Make sure you bring the blanket back with you. You can ride Wood Smoke to the gully.”

  “Sure. No problem. She's really light like this, ain't she?” He laughed and hefted the blanket sac experimentally.

  “Hmm.”

  Maggie was pleasantly absorbed in her thoughts as she returned to the surgery. She now remembered everything her mother had murmured to her that night, twenty years ago. Mother had planted it in her mind, awaiting her awakening.

  Amazing. A retrovirus, passed on by the female parent. Huh.

  She checked on Butterfly, who nosed her hand. Murmuring soothingly, Maggie tucked her into a roomy kennel. The babies were fine, too.

  The one pup's body, she tenderly wrapped in a towel and placed in a plastic body bag, specially coded for cremation. She regretted the puppy's death; had been drawn into a pleasurable trance as she tasted this small life. She would have more control now.

  Maggie sighed happily as she glanced around the surgery. The hospital could be mine. I can arrange to obtain the practice from Mac—one way, or the other.

  She leaned against the big double doors at the back of the clinic, letting the night wind cool her brow.

  Or we could travel—maybe I'll find Mother. Perhaps even now Mother is on her way to me. ‘Nothing comes between Louise and her only cub,’ that woman at the party had said. “Huh,” Maggie snorted a small laugh at the new nuance of meaning. Mother hadn’t left her, she was only waiting for Maggie’s own awakening.

  She need never age now. She feasted on life itself.

  A thrill of excitement raised goose bumps on her arm. Or perhaps it was the cold. As she turned to go back inside, she heard the train whistle blow at Vedder. crossing. The coyote pack sang joyously after.

  Roof People

  By Jeff Jones

  Timmy wriggled his small body farther down inside the bed until he was completely hidden. His fingers gripped the top of the duvet so tightly that he could feel his fingernails burrowing into his palms, but he ignored the pain. All that mattered was getting as far away as possible from the monster in his bedroom.

  He screwed his eyes as tightly shut as he could and prayed that the creature would soon leave like it usually did. Only occasionally did it linger to taunt and terrorise him.

  Despite the duvet muffling the noise, Timmy could hear it shuffling towards him, quietly muttering to itself between rasping breaths. The pungent smell was getting stronger, much stronger, and Timmy began to quietly whimper as he realised that the creature was drawing ever closer to his bed. He considered screaming or shouting for his mum and dad, but by the time they got there the monster would have disappeared and they would never believe him; they never did.

  A sudden pull on the duvet made Timmy gasp and he tightened his grip to prevent the last tangible barrier between him and the creature being removed. Hearing the creature was one thing, seeing it was something else. The pull on the duvet remained steady and Timmy let out a small cry of despair when he realised that the creature wasn’t trying to pull the duvet off him, but was instead using it to climb onto the bed. The pressure on the duvet suddenly eased as the creature finally hauled itself on top of Timmy’s bed, it’s almost inaudible muttering much closer now. Timmy could visualise the creature standing there staring at him and his body began to tremble uncontrollably. The tears he had fought to hold back so bravely, began to run freely as the creature slowly made its way up the bed. Timmy curled up into the smallest ball he could, silently willing the creature to go away, but it seemed that tonight it was intent on tormenting him.

  A chuckle, a deep throaty chuckle, told Timmy that the creature was practically upon him and Timmy struggled to control his bladder. Slowly, ever so slowly, as if it was deliberately prolonging the torment, the creature began to peel back the duvet with its small furry hands until eventually Timmy’s tear stained and pale face was uncovered. The creature chuckled again, revelling in the terror it was causing and feeding off Timmy’s fear. One of its hands reached out towards Timmy’s throat, short but razor sharp talons suddenly protruding from its stubby little fingers. It was mere centimetres from its target when summoning all of his courage, Timmy’s eyes suddenly flew open, momentarily startling the creature. Timmy saw the creature’s vile malevolent face leaning over him and the lethal talons reaching for his throat and screamed. It was a long high-pitched scream like he’d heard some of the girls at school do, but he didn’t care. He was scared, real scared, but if the only way to get rid of the creature was to scream like a girl, so be it.

  The creature snarled at Timmy revealing a mouth full of jagged and rotten yellow teeth before clamping its hands over its pointed ears. Seeing that the creature was disorientated by the noise, Timmy screamed again and forced himself to sit up, his sudden movement causing the creature to tumble from the bed. Pleased to have finally scared the creature, Timmy stopped screaming and stared down at it as it hauled itself to its feet. Apparently no worse for wear, the creature stared up at Timmy bearing its teeth and talons and prepared to attack. The sound of muffled voices and someone running upstairs distracted it and Timmy took the opportunity to hurl one of his cuddly toys at his tormentor. The creature swatted the toy away and after pointing a talon in Timmy’s direction and then slowly drawing it across its own throat in an unmistakeable gesture, it quickly scurried back into the loft through the gas vent.

  The bedroom light suddenly switched on as first Timmy’s dad and then his mum, came into the room.

  “Hey, what’s all the noise about, Timmy?” asked his d
ad Steven. Timmy didn’t answer. “Timmy, what’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” asked his mum Helen, as she came and sat on the bed next to him. “Why’ve you been crying?”

  Timmy turned to face his mum, knowing full well that she wouldn’t believe him. “Roof people,” he finally answered.

  “Roof people?” She replied, giving her husband a sidewise glance.

  “Roof people,” Timmy replied. “They live in the loft and come into my bedroom at night to scare me.”

  “There’s no such thing as roof people, sweetheart, you know that, we’ve talked about this before. You just had another bad dream.”

  “It wasn’t a dream. They live in the loft. They’re small furry creatures with sharp teeth and claws. They’re going to kill me,” protested Timmy.

  “Nobody’s going to kill you, Timmy, it was just a nightmare. Now come on, back to bed, or Santa won’t come,” said his mum as she reached down and retrieved Timmy’s cuddly bear. “Now there’s Mr Tinker, he’ll keep you safe.”

  “He’s a cuddly toy, mum, he won’t do anything. I need a gun or knife, not a cuddly bear,” replied Timmy indignantly.

  His dad laughed. “Well you’ll have to wait to see if Santa brings anything like that, won’t you? First you need to hurry up and go to sleep, because I have it on very good authority that Santa’s very tired tonight and wants an early night.” He looked at his wife and smiled.

  “Yes, and in the meantime Mr Tinker will have to do. Now come on, back to bed,” added his mum.

  Timmy snuggled down under the duvet and despite his protestations, gripped Mr Tinker tightly to his chest. “One day you’ll have to believe me.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Timmy, if you promise to go to sleep now I’ll have a look in the loft in a minute, how’s that? I’ve got to get some presents down from up there anyway,” said his dad. Timmy seemed to brighten up at that and nodded eagerly. “Okay, you go to sleep now. Anyway, how do these roof people get into your bedroom, Timmy?”

  “Through the air vent,” answered Timmy as he looked nervously in its direction.

  “Okay. Night, Timmy and happy Christmas,” said his dad.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, Timmy?”

  “What presents are in the loft if Santa’s coming from the North Pole?”

  “Err, just the ones he couldn’t carry. Now go to sleep,” replied his dad exiting the room before he could be asked any more awkward questions.

  His mum leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Okay, we’ve checked in here and there are no monsters, but there is a terrible smell. I don’t think you’ve been cleaning out Hooters have you?” She said glancing accusingly over at the hamster cage. The hamster was nowhere in sight, which at that time of night was unusual in itself. “You clean him out tomorrow, promise?”

  “But, mum, it’s Christmas day, can’t it wait? Besides it’s not him that smells, it’s the roof people.”

  “No buts, young man, you clean him out tomorrow, okay?”

  “All right.”

  “Night, Timmy,” said his mum as she turned the light out and shut the door.

  “Roof people indeed. He’s got a fertile imagination, I’ll give him that,” said Timmy’s dad.

  “I’ve never seen him so upset,” replied Helen.

  “Oh, it’s probably just over excitement about tomorrow, that’s all. Talking of which, can you hold the ladder for me whilst I retrieve the present box?”

  “Sure, but make it quick I’m tired too.”

  Ten minutes later, Timmy’s dad was grimacing as he pushed the loft trap door back inside the loft. The first thing that struck him was the icy cold blast of air that made him shiver; the second was the overpowering stench.

  “Aw, that’s disgusting.”

  “What is it?” Asked Helen.

  “Can’t you smell it? It smells like something’s died up here.”

  “Oh, great, that’s nice just before Christmas. Can you see anything?”

  He swung the torch in a gentle arc around the cavernous loft space, a slight movement to his right just catching his eye. “Whoa.”

  “What is it?” Asked Helen not really wanting to know, but positive sleep would elude her if she didn’t ask.

  “I don’t know, I saw something fleetingly.”

  “A bird, mouse, what? Tell me it wasn’t a rat.”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t do anything about it now either way. It’ll have to wait until after Christmas.”

  “I told you I’ve heard scampering around up there, but you wouldn’t listen would you?”

  “I heard it too.”

  “What?” Replied Helen indignantly. “You told me you didn’t hear anything.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry that’s all,” he replied apologetically.

  “Great, now I really will worry.”

  “Look I’ll sort it out as soon as possible, okay. It’s late, it’s Christmas Eve and I’m tired. Can we just get these presents down and go to bed please? Whatever it is, it can’t get into the house.” He didn’t sound all that convincing.

  “What about what Timmy saw? Maybe it was a mouse?”

  “Be realistic. How’s a mouse going to get through a gas vent, abseil down the wall and then climb back up there when we arrive?” He had a point she conceded. “Now take this please,” he said passing her a plastic box, inside of which the Christmas presents had been stored away from prying eyes.

  “Got it,” she replied lowering the box to the floor before resuming her hold on the ladder. “Come down now, before whatever it is jumps out.”

  “Just coming – what the hell?”

  “What is it?” asked Helen anxiously, preparing to bolt at the first sight of anything small, furry and with a tail.

  Her husband replaced the loft trap door and climbed down the ladder before turning to show her what he held in his hand.

  Helen gasped with surprise. “My engagement ring, but how? That’s been missing for weeks. I thought it was lost forever.”

  “Well I didn’t put it up there,” said Steven.

  “Well don’t look at me, Steven, why would I go up there? I’m scared of the place, you know that.”

  “Oh, that’s just great.”

  Helen followed her husband’s gaze. The lid of the plastic box was loose and when he removed it they saw that some of the presents had been torn open.

  “Looks to me like you went up there for a feel of your presents, didn’t put the lid back on properly and dropped your ring whilst you were up there,” said Steven.

  “Oh, don’t be so stupid, Steven, you know I wouldn’t do that.” She knelt down by the box. “Look, scratch marks. Whatever’s up there did this.”

  “I left the box securely shut, so unless we’re dealing with a mouse with an extraordinarily high IQ, I think we can discount him from prising the lid open.”

  Helen went to say something further, but decided that on reflection he was right. Still, she knew it wasn’t her fault so he had to have left the lid off last time, not that that explained how her ring had got there. There was no point arguing about it now though she realised, they had too much to do. “Let’s just forget it. We’ve got this lot to rewrap now.”

  Steven nodded. “So much for my early night.”

  “Come on, if you’re a good boy and help me wrap these without moaning, I’ll give you a present Santa never could,” she said winking at him.

  “Where’s the selotape?” He asked scooping up the present box and hurrying downstairs.

  ***

  Timmy opened the last of his presents and studied the pile of games and toys spread about before him.

  “Are you pleased, Timmy?” Asked his mum.

  Timmy grinned and nodded. “Thanks mum, dad, they’re brilliant. Almost everything I wanted.”

  “Sorry about the state of some of the wrapping, but we had to hastily rewrap some.”

  Timmy was going to ask why, but decided n
ot to; it wasn’t the wrapping that was important anyway, it was what was inside them.

  “Will you do me a favour please, Timmy?” Asked his dad. Timmy glanced his way. “Will you go and get me a drink from the kitchen?”

  Timmy was about to protest but decided being Christmas day and considering the great presents he had just opened, he had better not argue, though he didn’t understand why his dad couldn’t get it for himself. He got up and walked to the kitchen door and was about to open it, when a strange crying sound came from inside. Timmy’s hand froze on the door handle as he feared that one of the roof people had come downstairs. He briefly considered shouting for his dad.

  “Come on, Timmy, I’m thirsty.”

  Swallowing hard, Timmy turned the knob and barged into the kitchen and was immediately assaulted, not by a roof person, but by a small puppy. The dog was a bundle of energy and constantly leapt up at Timmy smothering him with licks and kisses, much to Timmy’s joy. By now his mum and dad had joined him in the kitchen and again their son was crying, but this time with happiness.

  “His name’s Rollo, Timmy and he’s all yours,” said his mum.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Screamed Timmy as he raced down the hall, followed closely by Rollo.

  Timmy played with Rollo all day, his other presents forgotten for the time being, as his parents knew they would be, such was his joy at getting a pet dog at last. He had been so busy playing with Rollo, that he never noticed his dad carry the small shoe box with Hooter’s lifeless body inside it, out into the garden and bury it. His mum had discovered the hamster’s body when she eventually gave up waiting for Timmy to clean its cage and decided to do it her herself. Unable to touch dead things, she had called her husband to quietly dispose of the body whilst she emptied the cage. They’d tell Timmy later they had decided.

  “What did it die of, do you suppose?” Helen asked her husband.

  “I’m no expert, but I don’t think it died, I think it was killed.”

  “What? How?”

  “I don’t know, but there was a small wound on its left side with fresh blood. It’s as if something stabbed it with a claw or bit it.”