by S. Graham
"Mom… Can I have Lucky Charms for breakfast today?" asks Logan rubbing his sweet eyes.
"Are you feeling lucky, Logan?" I roll over and tickle his sides. He giggles and responds, "Yes!"
"Okay then, let's have some breakfast and then Mom has got some running around to do. Then we need to start packing up your rooms."
"It's not my room, Mommy, it's the zombies room."
That thought just gives me such a heavy feeling. "No, baby, that's your room and we will need to pack it all up for Canada."
Connor opens his eyes and looks over to Logan. "Don't worry, Logan, he can stay here."
"Enough talk about zombies, boys, let's enjoy some breakfast and maybe a cup of coffee."
"Ewwwww, I don't want coffee, Mom!"
"Me either," says Logan.
"Good, more for me then." I smile.
We all crawl out of bed and open the bedroom door heading out to the living room. My anxiety starts surfacing as I turn the corner to see the living room. Letting out a sigh of relief, it's all still packed up. Boxes on top of boxes just like how I left it. I pour the Lucky Charms in two bowls, thinking last night was rather quiet. Maybe we are finally turning a corner.
Chapter 15
The drive to Grapevine felt so long and difficult. Logan always has ants in his pants and makes any drive over 20 minutes feel like an hour. Traffic was heavy, and the sun was hot. My Dodge Ram was bought back home in Calgary, Alberta. It has the best heater for those freezing cold -30 C days with snow, but my air conditioner just barely does it here in Texas. We are only a month away from being picked up and railed back up to Canada. This truck sure has traveled everywhere.
We pull into the parking lot of The Darkroom, and the boys cheer. "We are finally here, Mom? What is this place?"
"Connor, this is a 'no-touch' zone. I'm sure there will be a lot of expensive stuff and if you break anything it would be very bad."
"This sounds boring," says Logan.
"I'll make you a deal." I turn around and make eye contact with both boys. "If you both are good in this store we can get ice cream on the way home."
Looking at each other, they both smile, and they make a silent agreement. "Okay, Mom. We will be the bestest."
I check my bag to make sure my camera is in it and hop out of the truck. Opening the back door for the boys, they jump out and run to the front glass door of the store. We walk through the door with a chime from the bell and do a quick scan. There is nothing the boys can get into, only lots of glass cases that undoubtedly require some Windex after the boy's hands have been all over them.
"Hi there!" I'm greeted by a tall, middle-aged man with dark hair. He takes a look at the kids and lets out a laugh. "Looks like you keep your mom on her toes, boys."
"Do they ever?" I say and smile.
"What can I do for you today, ma'am?"
I reach into my bag and pull out the Pentax. "I inherited this from my grandfather and while packing last night I realized it still has film in it. I was wondering if I can get it developed?"
"Sure, not a problem."
I hand the camera over to him. "I didn't want to open it and take the film out myself just in case I did something to the roll and ruined it. I'm hoping for some last pictures of my grandfather, or to at least enjoy what he saw."
"Don't worry. I will make sure to carefully take the roll out. You know, these old cameras are sure something. Sometimes I think you still get better photos from film then digital."
"I agree," I say and look around to see the boys playing tag in some empty space. It is not the best game for a store, but hey, it keeps them quiet, and no one else is in to shop with us.
"I think there may be some photos left to take, I forgot to use the last little bit of the film this morning."
"Nope, all exposures were used, and I have nothing this morning, so I can get them developed here in a couple hours if you want."
"Really? That would be great."
"Sure thing. Come back in a bit and pick them up."
"Alright boys, how about that ice cream?"
"Yeahhhh!" They scream and head to the door.
"See you lads soon."
The kids are eating their Dairy Queen ice cream, and it's reminiscent of moments of when my grandparents would take my sister and me to the Dairy Queen as young girls. It was always exciting picking which colored booth to sit in and who would get the brain freeze first. My mind gets distracted with that memory when my phone vibrates in my purse. The call display shows it's my mom.
"Hi, mom…Yeah, no, the house has been very quiet. Nope, nothing new. I have the house about 80% packed. I just have to do the kids rooms, finish my camera room and one more box from the kitchen. Nope, Mitch is home tomorrow and he's booking our one-way tickets home. I have to grab Mats from the vet on the way home after this. Listen, I'll call you back in a couple hours. Love you too."
Putting the phone back in my purse, I realize we have enough time for the well-shaded park we passed on the way to Dairy Queen. It will give them enough time to burn the sugar off and maybe squeeze a nap on the long drive back home. The boys finish their ice cream cones with messy faces. "Boys, let's head to the park for a little bit before we head back to the store."
"Yessss! Thanks, Mommy."
We enter the front doors of the Dark Room with red faces. "You boys look like you had some fun!" The man behind the counter laughs. "Here are your photos, ma'am—singles of each 36 exposures.
"Thanks so much!" I grab the envelope and can feel the excitement run through my fingers as I place it in my purse.
"Let's ring you up here." He walks to the till by the front door.
"Mommy, I'm tired," Logan says. "Me too, Mom," says Connor.
I pick Logan up and get the receipt. "Thanks so much," I reach for Connor's hand.
"Have a great day, boys." The gentleman waves goodbye.
I put the kids in the car seat and buckle them up. Logan has already got his eyes closed, and Connor is now closing his. It looks like there will be a nap for the long drive home. We pull out of the parking lot, and I'm listening to my country radio station. Stuck at a red light, I glance over at the front seat and can see the envelope of photos at the very top of my bag. Contemplating if I should start taking a peek at some photos, I cave to my urge and grab the envelope. I've never been one to wait, and the excitement was taking over my body. Will I see my Pa?
The first photo is a tiny square of each 36 exposures, which I pass over right away. Show me the good stuff. The first, second, and third photos are scenery shots. I recognize it right away; it's Mission Creek Park, where my Nan and Pa would walk often. I even spent many hours on that playground as a little girl walking those trails. There are more scenery photos in the pack, and it brings such peace to my heart. These are images he thought were beautiful—moments he wanted to capture.
The light turns green, and I place the envelope of photos down on my middle console. I am not done with you, I think to myself. Looking in the rearview mirror, both boys are out cold. Sweet, another red light. I never thought I would be so happy to sit in traffic. There he is, a picture of my Pa. He must have accidentally snapped it in front of a mirror. He has his camera strap around his neck, looking down at it tinkering with the settings. His typical white hair and his blue jeans and sweater make me miss him so much. Then, there's the photo of my darling boys I took yesterday right before bed with their adorable smiles and arms wrapped around each other. The last couple of photos are blurry. It looks like maybe a finger got in the way? Another one looks too blurry to even make out. The next is a blanket, I think, or a photo of the inside of my purse?
When the next photo comes up, every ounce of color drains from my face. Suddenly I am unable to breathe. I can't get the button fast enough to roll down my window and get some fresh air. "No… No... No, what is this?"
My hand lets go of the photo, and it falls on my lap. The photo is of the children and me sleeping soundly last night. The hot Texas
air is distracting me, taking the nausea and panic away. My shaky hand grabs for the next photo. It's another close-up of the boys and me from another angle. The angle is directed from someone standing in the middle of my bed looking down. How did I not see this happen last night? Or feel someone on my bed? I suddenly jump to the sound of a loud truck horn behind me. "Come on, lady!" a man yells.
I throw all the photos to the passenger seat with a quick movement and put my window back up. According to the passing cars, I drive through the green light that has been green for some time. This can't be happening; this can't be real. I need to concentrate on getting home, realizing I have now just missed my exit. "Fuck!" I start to panic, almost feeling like I'm not even in my own body. My mind is so distracted. I give a quick glance in my rear views, and the boys are still sleeping, thankfully not hearing me dropping curse words left, right, and center. Finally, I'm on the right route. I avoid thinking about it until the boys are in bed tonight; I'll deal with this then. Right now, I just need to get us home. Warm tears are streaming down my face. Coming to the realization, this was never the ending of or turning the corner; this house was just about to climax.
Chapter 16
We had arrived home just a little over an hour later after picking up Mats from the animal hospital. The vet said he couldn't find anything wrong with him, and he was fine to go home with close monitoring. I didn't even ask additional questions and felt like walking in a daze after the photographs. The photos were left in the truck; I couldn't even bring them into our home. While the kids were having some playtime after their bath, it was the perfect time to call my mom.
"Yes, Mom, we were sleeping."
"Becca, you need to get the heck out of that house, I'm telling you, the energy is bad and turning."
"I know, Mom. We have a couple weeks left and then we are out of here. I'm going to show the photos to Mitch and get him to come up with an explanation on this one."
"Mom, it's story time!" yells Connor from upstairs.
"Listen, Mom, I have to go. Don't worry about me. I'll figure this all out. Love you."
"Love you, Becca, be safe."
The call ended, and I just sit there, defeated. I'm alone on the first floor of the house, and yet there's a feeling something is down here with me, watching and studying me. Not even giving it any more attention, I get up to head to the staircase. As I walk away, from my peripheral vision, I see someone small running to my right towards the stairs. Whatever it was, it was following me.
At the top of the stairs, I walk past Logan's Zombie Room. I'm not even looking in that direction, afraid of what I'll see, or more like who I'll see.
"Let's read your favorite book," I tell the boys, walking into Connor's room.
"Mom, we can't find it anywhere. It was right here beside the bed where we left it. Now it's gone!"
"It has to be here somewhere, Connor. Let's check under the bed and on the shelf one more time."
The boys run to the shelf pulling other books off dumping them on the floor.
"It's not here, Mom."
Bending down to my knees, I look beside the nightstand and on the floor. I find nothing.
Lifting the bed skirt, I look under the bed. Hunched under the bed in the shadows of the far corner was the contorted boy gripping the book we had been searching for. His body bent unnaturally, smiling, revealing his black rotten teeth. The ghastly odor of rot and decay floods the room. In a split motion, he crawls to me at an abnormally fast pace aiming right towards my face. I jump back, letting out a terror-ridden scream, "Noooo!"
"Mom! What is it? What's wrong?"
Grabbing my chest as the sharp pain of panic takes over my body, then left watching at the bed skirt now hanging down. Nothing is coming out. Both boys are staring at me, not sure if I'm playing a game or if something is actually wrong. "Nothing boys… I was just saying nope, the book isn't there either." I get close to the bed and lift up the bed skirt peaking underneath. Nothing. "Let's read another book tonight in my room." As if I am going to let them stay upstairs after what I just saw under their bed. You better believe I'm going to have them close to me tonight where they are safe.
Mitch is having a dinner meeting, and the boys are settling in; I think maybe I should get the photos from the truck and take another look, yes. I run to the truck to grab the photos from the front seat and rush back in the house into my room, alarming the system. Taking a deep breath, I flip through the photos. Only a couple of them are of us sleeping. I'm staring at them and then look beside the bed. This is where the angle from the first photo is shot at. My side of the bed is about 1 ft from the nightstand. I check the angle, and it's coming from a lower angle than where I would have taken it from. Standing up, I start lowering myself to the angle in the photo. Lower and lower. The sudden wave of panic takes over as I figure out it's coming from the angle of a small child.
I grab all the photos, stuff them in the drawer and slam it shut. "I'm not doing this anymore, this is complete crap." Mats looks up at me and does a little sniff from beside my bed. "I know, buddy, we can't get out of here soon enough."
My cell phone rings right beside me, startling me. It's Mitch.
"Hi, babe!" I say, relieved from hearing his voice.
"Guess what?" he says.
"What?"
"I'm 22 minutes away from home."
"What? Really! You are?"
"Yep. I thought I would surprise you guys and get home tonight instead of tomorrow afternoon."
A flood of emotion takes over my body. Relief, comfort, and the feeling of safety bring tears rolling down my face once again today.
"Becca...You there? Are you okay?" He laughs.
"Yes…Yes, I am!" I smile. "I just really missed you."
"Turn the alarm off. I'll see you soon." We hang up. Thank God Dad is almost home. "Everything is going to be okay," I say out loud while I disarm the system. "Everything is going to be okay."
***
"Becca, these photos are nuts, they actually creep me out! You didn't do this as a joke on me, right?"
"Me? Are you kidding me? I'm clearly sleeping!"
"Very funny. You have tripods upstairs."
Sitting there, I stare at him with my mouth open. It's unbelievable he thinks I was playing a joke on him. He is unpacking his suitcase, and I'm sitting there stunned, shocked. Even if Mitch is grasping at logical explanations, I really do think deep down he knows it wasn't me. Right?
"Babe, whatever those photos are, it is creepy but let's talk about our move. So… my meetings went well, and we have officially tied up all the loose ends before our official move date. I thought I would book the flights tonight with you. One way to our new home. Getting excited?"
I'm still staring at him in disbelief. "Yes. You have no idea."
"Good!" He sits on the bed and opens the laptop.
"So, I think we should fly out Thursday three weeks from now."
Three weeks. Three more weeks, and then that's it. We are done.
"Book it!" I say.
I pick up the photos from the bed that Mitch tossed down and stuff them in the nightstand. "I can't wait to get out of here, Mitch."
"Me too," he says. Then a loud smash from upstairs and the piercing screams of the boys make us jump right out of bed. Mitch is the first to fly out the door and through the living room, pulling himself up the stairs at projectile speed. I'm only two steps behind him, giving it everything I have to get to the kids as fast as possible. Mitch gets to the top of the stairs and around the corner towards their bedroom. Right when I reach the top stair, an incredible force punches me square in the chest. The energy is so powerful it launches me in the air and down the stairs to the first landing, smashing off the wall rolling to a complete stop. I try to scream, and I can't get any air in my lungs. The pain is so intense; I can't breathe. I can't breathe.
"Becca? Becca!"
"Mommy!"
Mitch is in Logan's arms and holding Connor's hand leading him down to t
he first landing where I lay motionless. I can't speak. I let out a gurgling sound from the back of my throat; it is all I can do. The excruciating pain of my back and right arm is leaving me unable to move, then realizing my arm is pinned under my body. Is my shoulder broken?
"Becca… what did you do?"
My boys stare at me with fear in their eyes, and Mitch looks scared to even touch me. Behind them, on the top of the stairs, I can make out movement. There he is—the small boy standing at the top of the stairs, staring right at me. I watch him slowly squat down to his knees as he observes me in pain. He's studying me, feeding off my agony, enjoying his view.
"Here, Becca, I'm going to move you."
Pain shoots from my shoulder. "Mmmmitch, my arm, noooo." Slowly, I move my legs and shift from my side to my back. Glancing again at the top of the stairs, the small boy is gone.
"Here… sit up against the wall. Babe, you scared the shit out of me! What happened?"
Leaning against the wall, I start to calm down, steadying my breathing. "I…. I honestly have no idea."
"Mommy you fell… like my dresser."
"Your dresser?" I question.
"Yeah, the kids' tall dresser fell right over. Must have been top heavy or something from packing. Glad it happened while they were sleeping. I brought them up to bed just 20 minutes ago and I didn't see anything that would have made it fall over. I haven't even started packing that dresser."
"Let's get you downstairs and get some ice for you. Boys, let's head back to bed and I'll tuck you in."
The pain in my shoulder is throbbing now with the beat of my heart, but my chest feels bruised; it hurts to take every breath. Mitch hands over the ice pack, and I place it on my shoulder. "This is a hell of welcome home." He chuckles. I roll my eyes. "Let's get you to bed and I'll get some Tylenol. You seem okay, you don't need an ambulance."
"No, I don't!"
"You need to see the doctor first thing tomorrow morning to check that arm."