Once in the kitchen, I picked up all the papers scattered across the floors. I balled them up until my hands could hold no more and moved toward the trashcan. I stopped, staring at all the drawers pulled out and the items tossed about. Moving around but not taking my eyes off them, I put the paper in the trashcan. Something wasn’t right.
If I was having a heart attack, I could understand the house being a mess because maybe he fell and pulled things down, but this? No one would take the time to pull out drawers and search for something. Someone had been here. With him? Or after? I glanced at the wall, the calendar catching my attention. Something was scribbled on it, the date of his heart attack.
Ben Ryser. 10:30AM.
My mind reeled like I was losing control.
Ben.
Ryser.
The skeletal man with milky eyes flashed before my eyes. I bent sideways like someone had kicked me from behind as the room tilted. I reached for the counter but fell short as the floor came at me fast. I tried to cry out, but my throat constricted, cutting the sound off. I lowered my lashes, finally tearing my gaze from the name. My heart pounded in my ears like deep bass. I struggled to stand, but my shaking legs refused to hold me. On all fours, I crawled across the room and pulled my purse down from the table. Somehow, I found the card with Officer Lopez’s name on it. I pulled my phone out to make the call. A circle with a line through it in the right corner wouldn’t allow it.
Call failed.
I rubbed a hand down my face. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. A gust of wind rattled the windows, startling me and causing me to drop the phone. Beads of water hit the panes, and rolled down. Boom! The sound of thunder seemed to shake the entire house. I had lived there long enough to know a storm like this would soon knock the power out. I forced myself up, still shaking, but unwilling to let myself possibly be trapped alone in the dark. I opened the bottom cabinet and found the oil lamps Pappy kept there. I put two on top of the counter.
The rain pelted against the roof harder now. Before I could strike a match, there was a loud knock at the door. I jumped, staggering back against the wall. Cold sweat beaded along my nape, making it slick to the touch as I ran a hand over it. I moved through the house, wondering who could be here this late at night. Maybe someone had had an accident on the road and needed help. It was the only thing I could come up with that seemed somewhat logical. I looked out the window, being careful not to get too close, and saw that my car was the only one sitting in the now-saturated drive. Through the glass in the door, I could barely make out a small figure standing there.
I stared, my eyes dropping to the knob as I watched it intently for any movement. If it moved, I would surely lose my mind. I balled my hands into a tight fist and huddled against the wall. Had it moved? I swore it looked like it jiggled. I held my breath. Normally, I would have answered and let them in. Obviously, it was a child. But nothing about this seemed right. It was well into the early morning. No child would be out in this at this time. Not without an adult. That thought chased another shiver up my spine. An adult could be out there hiding, waiting on me to open the door.
The second knock came louder than the first. I crept toward the door. Once in front of it, I placed one shaking palm on the wall. I turned the lock and cracked the door. A girl stood there. She was maybe around twelve, judging from her height and slender build. Most of her face was covered in soaked, dark hair that reached her midback, and she had long, feathery bangs. I pulled back, blinking a few times, before going in for a second look.
“Please let me in to use the phone.”
Her emotionless voice reverberated through my head, making me wince. I didn’t answer. Instead, I studied her. Her chest moved up and down slowly, so I ruled out her being a ghost. It was crazy, but hell, I was freaking out. Her clothes were dirty. Homeless maybe? My heart picked up, slamming against my chest.
“Please let me use the phone,” she repeated, not moving an inch.
I took a step back and felt an invisible pull, as if I couldn’t control myself. Despite my greatest efforts, I started to open the door wider. I gripped the handle harder and stopped, fighting against myself. Run! The voice inside my head screamed. My body thrummed with adrenaline. Cold, dreadful fear covered me like a suffocating blanket. My legs were like cement. My limbs couldn’t be controlled. My breath burned my throat. Tears welled in my eyes as I fought to shut the door. I wanted to put a barrier between her and me.
“Open the door. We need help,” came a male voice.
I was released from whatever had compelled me to open the door. Air rushed from my lungs as the stiffness dissipated. I glanced up to find a taller boy appear next to the girl. His hair matched hers, which contrasted against a bright red hoodie.
“Wha—what’s wrong?” I wanted to scream at them. How the hell did you get here?
Silence. They stood motionless. “Do you need me to call the police?”
“No. Please, just let us in. We’re lost, and we need to call our dad. He’ll be here soon.” His voice rose. There was distinct irritation in his words.
“I think it’s best I call the cops, especially if you’re lost. They’ll be able to help you find your dad or take you to him.” I backed away while closing the tiny gap that I’d opened.
“I said no! Open the door and let us in!” he demanded.
I slammed it and immediately locked it. My chest heaved, staring at the figures still standing there. The lights blinked again.
“I’m not going to let you in. It’s the middle of the night. I’d be crazy to do something like that.” I ran back to the kitchen, found my phone on the floor, and gripped it tightly. “I’m calling the cops!”
No reply.
I stepped forward and looked through the house to the door. No one was there. My brows pulled together in frustration as I looked down to the ground. They were gone, but the uneasy feeling was still all around me. I turned my phone over and prayed for signal. The circle still sat in the corner, practically laughing in my face.
Panic set in. I needed to get a handle on this. I went back to the door to make sure they hadn’t returned. It was clear. I made my way around the couch to the window overlooking the driveway. Rain dribbled down the glass and puddled along the ledge, the storm still raging on. There they stood, in the storm, looking at me. Lightning flashed, sending a bolt down. My breath caught. My heart, just like the rest of my body, was paralyzed. Both their faces were ghostly white, a hooded shadow across their eyes.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to cry.
I wanted to run.
I wanted to unsee what I was seeing.
Instead, I did nothing but stand there. I wasn’t sure how long we stared at each other. Minutes? It felt like hours. I had never experienced anything more unnerving. Like they were trying to suck all the joy out of me and leave an empty, hollowed shell.
The lights flicked again, this time going completely out. The boy smiled. The white halo of moonlight caught his lips as they turned up. Suddenly his head dropped back. His mouth twisted, contorting in an inhuman way. Something black pushed forward. Slick, skinny, finger-shaped objects clawed at his face.
I fell back, ramming my leg into a table. A lamp hit the floor, shattering to pieces. Pain seared my leg, but I didn’t care. I crumpled to the floor, my back against a chair. I stared into the darkness, trying to reason with what I’d seen
The knob jiggled, jarring my bewildered mind back to the front door. To my horror, the lock slowly moved. Using the arm of the chair, I clawed my way up. Laughter came from the other side of the door. I reached for it, running as fast as I could. My foot caught something on the floor, lurching me forward. A form materialized. I blinked, swallowing hard then twisted, clawing my way backward.
“Piper…” My name was mixed with gurgles and raspiness, but it was there. The scariest part wasn’t hearing it, but the voice that said it. A figure started to develop more detail, starting with bare, swollen feet, inked
with visible blue veins. My eyes traced the legs up until I was staring at the face of my dad, only he was brutally disfigured, the corners of his mouth up to his hair shredded. Meat hung loosely as his mouth moved slightly.
The wounds were so deep I had no doubt I could hide my fingertips down to the first knuckle. His eyes were trained on me, staring at me with hatred I hadn’t felt since I was little. A cry that sounded childlike resounded from my mouth. I forced my legs to work then ran, sprinting with every bit of strength I had to my bedroom and slammed the door. I shoved everything off my dresser and pressed my back against it. Slowly, the large piece of wood moved across the floor, scratching its surface along the way. I wasn’t sure if this would keep him out, but it made me feel better to put something between us.
I dropped to the floor, breathless and emotional. My face fell into my palms, as a painful sob broke free. I hadn’t felt that way in years. The way he’d scared me … the way he’d tortured me… It was too much.
My eyes opened, a scream erupting from my lungs. I sat up, my chest heaving, struggling to steady my breathing. I winced, putting a hand to my aching neck as I stared at the house from the front seat of my car. At daybreak, I’d sought refuge there. The image of my father was far scarier than anything those kids could ever be. I smacked my lips together. The saliva seemingly had evaporated from my mouth, leaving it feeling like sandpaper. I started the car and glanced at the time. 4:00 PM!
I rubbed my forehead, trying to clear the grogginess. “Shit. So much for being back there this morning.” I wheeled around and flew down the drive. Speeding wouldn’t do me any good. I was beyond late. My stomach voiced an angry sound and churned. Dizziness made my temperature skyrocket. After switching the AC on full-blast, I leaned over to the vent. Food. I needed it bad. I hadn’t eaten since the breakfast bar the day before.
After snagging something at a store I passed, I finally felt almost like myself again. I was able to think clearly. The things from last night tumbled back to me like photos twirling around my face. In college, I had studied what being deprived of sleep could do to a person. It was the only thing that made sense. I’d been seeing things. Maybe I had fallen asleep, and it was a dream? My body shook. I reached over and ran a hand down my arm. Pain laced up my shoulder. I rolled up my sleeve, the appalling bruise greeting me like an unwanted memento from that night. It looked even worse today.
I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and hit the recent calls. Officer Lopez’s voicemail picked up after the second ring.
“Ummm… Hi, this is Piper McAdams. We spoke in the hospital about the break-in at the Foast home. Well, I had to come back to Alabama because my grandfather passed, and guess what? Ben Ryser’s name was on my grandfather’s calendar. Please call me back as soon as you get this. My number is 555-3293. Thanks.”
I turned the knob on the radio up, not really paying attention to what was playing. I needed background noise. Something to keep me from rethinking about everything. I focused on the road, the yellow paint along the asphalt becoming one long blur.
Before I knew it, Hell’s sign bloomed in front of me. As I passed it, the same uneasy feeling I’d had the day before engulfed the car. I rolled down the window. Fresh air would do the trick. It would blow the feeling off. I realized I was lying to myself. The wind wasn’t effective. I turned the car into the funeral home to be greeted by an empty lot and a closed sign that hung proudly across the front door.
My stomach dropped. Had I really expected her to stay open all night waiting on me? I had told her I would be here bright and early this morning, and here it was after seven at night. I gripped the steering wheel, anger rolling off me. I got out hoping for the impossible. Maybe she was still here but in the back. I knocked against the door and peeked through the windowpane.
A car eased into the parking lot, and a window slid down. A middle-age man stuck his head out and stared at me. “They’re closed. Don’t you see the sign? Been gone since about five.”
“Is there any way to get in touch with her? I really needed to get in there.”
“Nope,” he said, not bothering to offer any type of solution. The window glided back up, but the stranger continued to sit there, watching me.
I rolled my eyes and staggered back down the steps in defeat. Prick. The only thing for me to do was try back in the morning. I started the car, frustrated at myself.
A gas station sat, almost lonely, off the road with a red glowing sign. Before I started the dreaded journey home, I swung into it to refuel. I hopped out, surveying the parking lot, and pumped a tank-full of gas.
“Evenin’,” the cashier called as I walked through the door.
I nodded in her direction before making my way to the back to grab a Cherry Coke.
Pausing at the candy bar selection on the way back up, I examined the display. Leave it to coming back to Alabama to jack up my normal diet. I hadn’t had a soft drink or chocolate in years. I opted for a king-size pack of Reese’s and continued to the counter.
“This all for ya tonight?” the lady asked, putting her copy of People down beside her.
What the hell, I already had two bad things. Why not go for a third?
“A pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter, please.” I was under duress. I needed these guilty pleasures to help me cope with my idiotic move today. I paid, and had the milk chocolate peanut butter cup in my mouth before I made it back to the car. “O-o-h… that’s good stuff.” I settled back in and cracked the top to my drink as I pulled back out on the road. The night was dark and dreary.
I rolled the window down, excited about smoking. I hadn’t smoked much growing up, but nothing was better than one and an ice-cold beer together. The lighter fired to life as I flicked the spark wheel and shielded the orange flame. My lips cupped the filter, taking a deep drag. The smoke rolled out through the window as I enjoyed the guilty pleasure. I stared at the cherry burning a bright orange.
My grandfather had hated it when I smoked. His cigars were a different story, one that he tried to hide from me to keep me from following his bad habit. He said cigarettes were cancer sticks. No matter how much perfume I coated my clothes in, he could always detect the smell amongst the fruitiness. I knew they were bad for me, but I couldn’t help it.
My eyes blurred with a sudden onset of tears. I swiped them away with the back of my hand, loosening my grip on the cancer stick. I swiftly moved my legs to the side to avoid a burn, and it fell to the floorboard. The aroma of charred carpet filled the car. After checking the road to find it clear of any other cars, I reached for the smoky pleasure. It rolled back just shy of my fingers. I leaned down farther, managing to grab it. I shifted back up to find three children standing in the middle of the road. There was no time to stop. I would plow into them within a matter of seconds. I gripped the wheel, turning the car in the direction of a ditch as I slammed my foot onto the brakes.
The tires squalled across the asphalt, the rubber smoking behind the car. The ting of rock and gravel beat against the body like a massive hailstorm. Once I hit the bank, this car could do anything. Flip, burst into flames, crush me here for hours, anything.
The hood hit, crushed the metal, and jolted me forward into the dash. My chest hit the steering wheel, knocking the breath from my lungs. My forehead connected with the windshield, causing the glass to shatter. I could feel the car slowing as it graded against the grassy bank, but it felt like a dream.
When I stopped, the damp mugginess of the night was all around me. I was lying partly on the hood while the rest of my body was still inside. Warm blood trickled down my forehead and the bridge of my nose, causing the vision in my right eye to turn a hazy red. My hair was moist underneath my face, leading me to believe there was already a pool of blood forming there.
I blinked a few times, trying to focus on the field across from me. Would I die here tonight? How long would it be before someone found my body? There could be anything in these woods. The smell of a fresh bleeding body might make wi
ld animals investigate. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding me half eaten. It would be a closed casket for sure. So many things I never got to accomplish. So much more I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to have a career that didn’t stress me and was fun. I loved writing but not when cooped up inside a building among the concrete jungle of New York. No. I wanted to travel and write about it. Live life to the fullest. I wanted love. Real love. Not just being comfortable with someone. I wanted the person that still gave me butterflies when I could hardly walk from age. I wanted children. Two. With a family dog and maybe a cat.
But now as I lay here in the middle of nowhere, I might not ever have any of those things.
My breathing became shallow as the thump of my struggling heart caused me to flinch. I closed my eyes, feeling tired. I was dying. I knew it.
“Piper McAdams…”
I could barely hear the tiny voice. I thought I was dreaming. I had to be. My eyes were heavy. I wrestled against the weight, cracking them slightly.
A little girl stood a foot from the car. Her eyes were as black as night, which contrasted against the white locks wrapping her shoulders. Her clothes were dated, a black jacket, button-down shirt, and pleated skirt. Two boys stood behind her with matching eyes, hair, and clothes, the only difference being pants instead of a skirt. Her arm rose as a finger pointed in my direction. “Chosen.” Her mouth never moved, but I knew the word came from her.
I shuddered, becoming chilled.
I opened my mouth, fighting to form words. “Hel … help … me,” I choked out.
The three of them continued to stare. No emotion. No sympathy. Just black emptiness in those eyes. Their delicate faces sculpted with perfection didn’t convey anything. They were watching, waiting for me to die. Chosen. Chosen to die? It wasn’t the first time I had heard the word. The strange man had said it too.
Yellow beams of light bathed the highway. The sound of a vehicle approaching gave me a small ray of hope. I looked down, seeing the crushed car becoming illuminated then glanced back to find I was alone, the three children gone.
Chosen (The Urban Legends Series Book 1) Page 9