Vacant

by S. Graham

  "Can we play on the playground too?" begs Logan.

  "We sure can," I say. Relieved, we have a good and close backup plan until we get this looked at. Disgusting.

  After playing in the sun for a couple of hours, the boys are now down for an afternoon nap. The exterminator we called has pulled up in front of our house in his work truck. I get to the door before he rings the bell to avoid waking the boys from a much-needed slumber.

  "Ma'am," he says, "I'm going to get started outside and then take a peek inside for you, I'll let you know what I find."

  "Thanks so much," I say, happy he's here to take a deep dive in and around our house.

  I start doing the last of moving around the furniture in the living room and move some lamps over to their closet outlet, placing them on the end tables. As I was reaching up to turn on the lamp, I realize there's no knob, just the screw to where the knob once was. Frowning, I start looking around the table and on the floors, to find nothing. I also reached for the other lamp and noticed the knob is missing on this one too. "What the?"

  I walk over to the hall lamp to peek under to see if the knob is missing too. Every single lamp in our house has no knobs to turn on anymore. "This is weird!" I mumble to myself. "If it was pitch black and we needed immediate light, it could be a dangerous situation.” “Who would do this?" I say out loud.

  Mitch has a home office located by the front door; he strolls out of his office,

  "I'm so busy today, what's going on with all these lamps in the hallways?"

  "Honestly, I don't know, every single one of them is missing the knob to turn it on."

  "That is weird. No big deal, I have to run to Home Depot later, I can see if they have some knobs that would work. Maybe they fell off during the move."

  "Yeah, maybe," I said. But not likely, they have to be screwed off, I thought.

  A knock at the front door catches my attention. When I open it, our exterminator is there. "I'm all done outside, and it looks like we have some problems. The pool is full of toad eggs; I located a couple on the side of the house. What's crazy is the amount in your pool; you would think you had hundreds of toads on your property. You also have a couple fire ant mounds which I took care of and you do have evidence of rats."

  "Are you serious? Can we take care of all of this today?"

  "Yes, no problem. We will also make sure to put some bate boxes out and check on it every visit; it's all echo friendly."

  "Alright, let's do it."

  He slips on his shoe covers. "I'm just going to take a look around the inside and then I'm all done."

  "Sounds good! The boys are sleeping in the far left room upstairs, so if you don't mind not waking them."

  "I have kids of my own and don't worry, I won't. Mine are grumpy when woken up." He chuckles.

  "Thanks!" I respond.

  The exterminator leaves the driveway while the pool guys have now come and gone. He gave the pool a good clean, removing the toad eggs, and shocked the pool. He let us know swimming was not an option anytime soon. The pool heater was also installed on the side of the house and made it that much more disappointing not being able to give it a try right away. It seems so much is going on with our house in the last couple of days. All I want is a good hot soak in the hot tub, hoping all this craziness is coming to an end soon.

  The boys ate dinner fast as it was their favorite, spaghetti. Quiet time was fast approaching. I loved what we called quiet time growing up. It usually started around 8-8:30 pm and always meant a soft light snuggled in with a good book. I crawl into the bed with the boys and read them their favorite book, the pout-pout fish. I can read this book over and over, and they would never get tired of it. Logan is sleeping in Connor's room again, and I'm okay with it. School doesn't start for a couple more days, and I love how close the boys are. After finishing the book, they are both sound asleep, and I quietly sneak out of the room. Heading down the hallway, walking past Logan's door, I notice it is wide open and is as dark as spades. Everything seems quiet, almost normal. Making my way down the stairs and into our master bedroom, I get ready for bed, slipping into some very comfy pajamas.

  "I can't get over all the things going on with this house, it's never ending."

  "Well, there's more!" Mitch says. "I had the electrician take a look around and he found a couple dead outlets and some pool lights that aren't working."

  "What?" I say in frustration. "Mitch, this is ridiculous. How safe is this house? Is everything even up to code? I just read an article yesterday about a poor child being electrocuted by a bad pool light in their own pool."

  "I know," Mitch responds. "I've already called the rental company and created another ticket to get this home inspected from top to bottom. Someone should be out here next week."

  "Next week?!"

  "Yes, it's the process with this company. They find another contractor and that person calls us to schedule and then they come out."

  I'm so annoyed; words struggle to get out.

  "This house is safe, they wouldn't have rented it out of it wasn't," Mitch continues.

  "Seems like a lot of crap for our first couple weeks, Mitch!"

  "What do you want me to do? Should we move again?" He snaps back.

  If only it were that simple. I crawl into bed and close my eyes. This is starting to turn into a little much.

  ***

  Hours later, I woke up. It's dark, and something must've woken me. Waiting for my eyes to adjust, the moonlight from my window is in the room, and I listen closely. Mitch is heavily breathing. He usually snores; with his asthma, he tends to make a lot of noises while sleeping, especially if his allergies flare up. With my back to him, I listen to his breathing and almost gurgling. At least he's getting some sleep, I think to myself. Sounds of toads talk back and forth. So much for the exterminator relocating all of them, it sounds like a colony is outside. I continue to listen to Mitch breathing so heavy, and I'm desperate for sleep. Maybe I should make him roll over.

  I turn over to wake him, and I freeze. The little light in the room is bending around a small dark figure on Mitch's side of the bed, just inches from his sleeping body. While my eyes continue to adjust, more characteristics come to light. It's not my child. This child has short blonde hair and very pale skin with dark circles under those sunken jet black eyes that are as cold as death. The child's gaze is locked straight on Mitch. He is just staring and not blinking. His light-colored T-shirt is filthy and far too big because he's so thin and frail, with almost grey-tinted skin on his tiny skeletal frame. He tilts his head slightly like he's studying Mitch, and the slow gurgling breathing I thought was Mitch was not. It was coming from this boy by our bed.

  The child slowly lifts his left hand and reaches towards Mitch's face. Not realizing I'm completely holding my breath frozen in fear, a scream violently erupts from my lungs. Reaching for Mitch, I frantically grab at him, trying to pull him towards me, away from the cold, pale hand of this boy. The scream breaks the child's gaze, and he starts to look right at me, making complete eye contact. Mitch awakens, screaming in agonizing pain. "What the hell! My back!" The boy disappears with his last gaze on me.

  "Oh my God, Mitch, there was someone…"

  "My back!" Mitch screams again in agony. He shoots out of bed, throws the blankets off of him, and turns on the bathroom light. My body jumps out of bed after him and into the bathroom; my eyes grow big. I look at Mitch's back, and there is blood, a lot of blood.

  "What the hell did you do to my back?"

  "I had a dream you were falling, babe, I was reaching for you pulling you towards me away from the..." I'm not about to tell him an unknown boy was about to touch his face. What if I was really dreaming this? I scramble to help him and grab a towel.

  "Look at my back! This hurts!" It looks like a wolverine shredded his back. The marks are deep enough to bleed constantly, and now blood is slowly dripping down his back and onto the floor.

  "I'm so sorry, I feel horrible. Here, let me he
lp you." I grab another damp cloth and help clean up the open wounds on his back. The first aid kit from the closet is now in my hands. Frantically, I open it and grab some gauze and bandages. Hot tears burn in my eyes, and my throat feels like it is closing, holding back everything to prevent from sobbing uncontrollably. What have I done? I was trying to save my husband. Instead, I caused him pain and feel sick to my stomach. Mitch can see the heartache and worry in my eyes. He winces in pain as he crawls into bed after his back is bandaged up.

  "Damn, babe, your dreams are crazy."

  "I know, I'm so sorry." I can't even cuddle up to him because his raw bandaged back is facing me, unable to touch the sheets. I close my eyes as questions run through my head. What have I done? What did I see? What is going on?

  ***

  The morning light shines into our room, and I haven't slept a wink. The last image burning into my memory is of those empty black eyes of the child. He was a young boy around the age of seven or eight, and when he looked up at me, it was almost as if he was startled by my scream, shocked that I could see him.

  Mitch steps out of the room, "I can't even have a shower. When water hits my back, it kills me!"

  "Mitch, I feel terrible! I'm so sorry."

  The kids come running down the stairs seconds after bursting into our room. "Daddy, look at your back! Did a tiger attack you?"

  "Yes!" Mitch says with a wink looking at me. I let out a half-smile but don't feel like this is something to smile about.

  "Mommy accidentally scratched Dad in his sleep."

  The boys turn their heads toward me with their mouths wide open in shock.

  "Mommmy! You're not sleeping with me anymore!"

  The boys giggled.

  "Oh, stop!" I roll my eyes. "Let's go have some breakfast." I usher them out of the room.

  "Good news, boys. The pool is clean and as blue as the sky. I have some water guns that could use some practicing." Mitch hands two water blasters over.

  "Yahhhhh!" the kids scream, jumping up and down in excitement.

  We spent a good couple of hours in the pool, and later I ran some errands with the boys. I feel very distant today, not myself at all. I left Mitch at home with the remainder of the appointments with technicians. Saying the words to them, "Not up-to-code," pushed us up to the top of the list for our tickets; the next couple of days are full of appointments to get the house to where it should have been in the first place. The kids and I get in from all our running around in the Texas heat. I open the front door and see the fans going everywhere, and it's almost as hot inside as outside.

  "What on earth?" I say.

  "The air conditioner went! Can you believe this?"

  "Are you kidding me?"

  "I put another ticket in and someone can come out tomorrow. I had to run out and get some fans in the meantime. If it doesn't cool down soon, let's head to a hotel for the night," suggested Mitch.

  "Let's cook on the barbecue to avoid heating this house up more and go for an evening swim, it will cool us down in the meantime." I put some groceries on the counter while looking around at all the fans.

  Of course, the kids think it's funny. "Look, Mom, it's like a tornado in the house," Connor yells.

  "I see that," I respond. "This is such crap. Can anything just go right for once with this house?"

  Mitch cooked some burgers on the barbecue, and the kids swam until they had cute little raisin fingers. They could have played for longer, but I could tell they were ready for sleep.

  "I don't think we need to head to a hotel, the house cooled down enough with the blinds closed and the fans running. We should be okay for the night. I put together the kids' beds on my side of the room with soft foam mattress and quilts your mom made, just because it's cooler down here than upstairs."

  "Good idea," Mitch says.

  The boys giggle in excitement. "A family sleepover!" I tuck them in bed, and not long after, they are fast asleep.

  "Their bed looks more comfy than ours," says Mitch. I watch him sit on the edge of the bed with his back facing me, still bandaged up. I put my head on the pillow having flashbacks from last night. Rolling over and turning my back to him, facing the sleeping boys on my side, I can't even look at Mitch's back. Watching them sleep erases my guilt temporarily and brings me pure joy watching them sleep. They look so innocent with not a worry in the world. My eyelids get heavier and heavier, drifting off to sleep.

  I stir in the middle of the night, wake up, and look at my dresser to see the time. It is 3:38 am. Glancing over, I can see the boys fast asleep with the reflection of the moon on the pool acting as a nightlight in my own room. Looking at the alarm clock again and watching it turn to 3:39 am. As I am closing my eyes, the sound of the toads talking back and forth is loud enough for me to hear. I am drifting back to sleep, but I can also hear the breathing again—the gurgling. The slow breathing burned into my head from the night before. My muscles couldn't move. My eyes are wide open, frozen in fear. He is here in my room again; I can feel him, not wanting to move an inch. His slow gurgling leaves me frozen in one spot. His breathing is coming from behind me, on Mitch's side of the bed again, where the boy was standing before. Do I roll over and look? Or ignore it? Maybe it will go away! Please go away; please go away, I plead in my head.

  Grabbing the blankets as tight as possible, I slowly roll over onto my back, turning my head with the slowest of motion. The boy is standing there again, staring at Mitch in the same spot but inches from his face with the same haunting, wilted look from the night before. His head slightly tilted while watching Mitch and observing his sleep. A whimper of fear comes out, and I watch his head slowly go from watching Mitch to my direction. He is now locked on me with those vacant lifeless dark eyes. His pale skin now shows dark spots, areas of rot, and an earthy rancid smell now fills my room, taking my very breath away. Covering my mouth with my hand, I avoid the hot vomit wanting to come up my throat.

  My eyes start to water, not wanting to blink for a second because what's next is a mystery. The little boy slowly moves his lips and grins a mischievous evil smile showing his rotten chipped teeth while not breaking eye contact. I push away from Mitch, throwing off my blankets, ready to dive off the bed close to my sleeping boys. I have to protect them. The boy starts to lean over, placing his arms over my sleeping husband. He lifts his left leg onto the bed; he's now crawling over Mitch while he sleeps and making his way to me. With his wicked smile getting larger ear to ear as he creeps closer, he obviously thinks this is a game. The pungent decaying smell coming off of him as he grew closer confirms this is actually happening. He now has someone else to lock onto and play with. He has a plan, and the plan is me.

  "Get the hell away from us," I scream and push further away from him with one leg off my bed, not far from my sleeping boys. He continues to crawl completely over Mitch, not disturbing him at all, and doesn't seem phased with me screaming at him to go away. Why isn't he disappearing? He's now inches from me, and the overwhelming smell pierces my nostrils. I push away from him, plummeting out of bed and hitting my head on the nightstand, landing a foot away from my sleeping Logan. Now unable to see the top of the bed where he is.

  "Oh God, please, please be gone!" I cry to myself from the floor. Standing up, I see the bed area now looks normal, just Mitch still sleeping with his back to me undisturbed. Looking around the room, I do not see the boy anywhere else, but the smell of death lingers just slightly. A couple of minutes go by with me waiting to make sure he is gone, then quietly walk to the bathroom closing the door and rushing to the toilet, throwing up uncontrollably. Wiping my mouth, I sit on the cold tile floor. My entire body is vibrating uncontrollably in shock. What is happening? What is going on? I can't wake Mitch up and tell him what I saw; this is the last thing he needs. Tomorrow I need to make a phone call.

  Chapter 5

  "Grandma! Grandpa!" Logan and Connor run up to them on the front lawn. "Boys!" Grandma says as she gets on her knees for great big bear hugs. They
almost toppled her over, giggling with excitement. Nothing makes me feel safer than my own mom. Living a country away from them breaks my heart, but no one understands me like my mother.

  "Mom," I said and hugged her. The relief just comes pouring out of me; she always has that way with me.

  "Someone packed really light." Mitch laughs, bringing in the tiny luggage.

  My dad lets out a laugh. "She's planning on shopping down here and buying some new suitcases." My dad leans over for a hug.

  Mitch brings the luggage inside and upstairs, and places it in Connor's room. "Are we all having a slumber party?" asks Connor.

  "No," responds Mitch. "Grandma and Grandpa can sleep in your room with the big bed and you boys can sleep in Logan's bedroom."

  "No way!" screams Connor. "I'm not sleeping in the Zombie Room! I want a sleepover with Grandma and Grandpa!"

  "I wish you would stop calling it a Zombie Room, it's definitely not that. Why don't we have a sleepover in our room again?"

  "Yeahh!" the boys scream.

  "I would like a sleepover in my room too one night," says Grandma.

  The boys are now very excited for the double sleepover, and it sounds like fun for everyone. We show my parents the house, and you can tell they are in heaven as soon as they step outside.

  "Pool side will be where I'm at," says Grandma.

  Mitch has been smoking brisket all day for my parents, and that's one thing he is proud of. Since moving to Texas, we have been exploring good old barbecues, outdoor living, and smoking all kinds of meat. Mitch makes a mean brisket, and the smell of it lingers in the backyard while we bask in the sun. The boys are eager to show the grandparents their new cannonball jumps in the pool and water toys. Grandpa is soon in the pool after them joining in on the boy fun. Since my mom isn't the best swimmer, she's more into sitting in a chair with her feet in the cool, clear water right next to me. The beach entrance to the pool makes it the perfect spot to put a chair and do just that.