Uninvited

by David Anderson

  “No, we have to go, meet the others, so you can become one of us.”

  A faint awareness of what was happening stirred and glowed to life inside me. What had I been doing before this? Running away, but from what? There was a reason for me not to give in to Georgia even though I so much wanted to; what was it? As I held her tightly, I tried to clear my head, to form thoughts of my own choosing. But it was so difficult; the thing inside me wouldn’t let me. Everywhere I wanted my thoughts to go, it blocked them off. In frustration, I dived into my memories, and found I could still pull them up.

  My twin sister and I playing in the park. We were only five. Nora went down the slide and hit her knee on a rock and it bled. I ran over and wiped away the drippy red stuff with a dirty paper tissue. Nora stopped crying. Then Mom came over and cleaned it properly.

  I wasn’t feeling the sheer physical desire so much anymore. There was something else I must do now. Georgia pressed her body into me again and I tried to step back but my feet were leaden and immovable. Though I tried not to do it, my eyes roamed over Georgia’s breathtaking body again and I was being captured just as quickly as the first time.

  “Surrender to me, Nick, I will give you so much pleasure. It will be so easy.”

  I could feel myself wavering, giving in to her just like she wanted. Then the gravel crunched behind me. Heavy footsteps approached; Sanders was coming. Two massive hands gripped my shoulders like twin pincers. They’d made a mistake. A jolt of terror cleared my mind and woke my body into life. I had a few free seconds to act.

  It was enough. In a last desperate effort, I pushed Georgia away as hard as I could and twisted free of Sanders’ hands.

  Now I was running again, and this time nothing and no-one was going to stop me. I sprinted away from the house, making for the forest edge.

  * * *

  I bent over, hands on knees, and gulped air into heaving lungs. Gradually the stitch in my side slowly loosened its grip and the sweat stopped dripping off my forehead onto the grass. I’d run straight for the nearest belt of trees, between the house and the river, and was now hiding among them. The couple of times I’d looked back I hadn’t seen Sanders or the two women behind me.

  The noise of my breathing lessened and I thought about what to do next. I couldn’t keep running in the forest or I’d crash into something hard and heavy, like a low branch, or put my eye out on a sharp twig, and the ground was too lumpy anyway. I straightened up and peered around. It was impossible to see very far among the trees where everything was dark.

  I leaned a shoulder against a tree trunk and slipped off my running shoe, the one that had got pierced by a nail. The sock underneath was sticky with sweat and blood. I peeled it off and massaged the sole of my foot. The nail had sunk pretty deep and it felt as if it was still in there, even though I knew it wasn’t. I massaged around the little puncture in the skin and told myself it was nothing, just a scratch. Then a spot of liquid oozed out of the tiny hole and I got worried again. I remembered hearing something about rusty nail injuries needing some sort of injection. Oh well, I’d see a doctor about it back in Vancouver.

  A sound of twigs breaking came from my left and I jumped in my skin. I put the sock and shoe back on as quickly as I could and stepped slowly away from the sound, toward the river. Every minute or two another cracking sound of dry deadwood breaking under someone’s heavy tread made my heart beat faster. It had to be Sanders. I kept moving away from him and was halfway to the river before I realised what was going on. He was herding me, trying to trap me at the riverbank where Abby and Georgia would be waiting. Already I was hemmed in, my options restricted.

  My only option was move deeper into the forest, where I had a better chance of escape. If I could hear Sanders, then he could hear me. There was nothing I could do about that. My biggest fear was that one or more of them would suddenly appear out of the darkness and start the mind game thing again but if I could keep them at a distance I had a chance. Above all, I had to stay well away from Sanders’ big grasping arms. Next time, I wouldn’t get away from him so easily. Next time, I wouldn’t get away at all.

  I needed a weapon and searched around in the undergrowth for a stick. Each one I picked up was either short or bent or rotten, or all three. One was perfect but far too long and I daren’t crack it in two because of the noise. I kept searching as I went along and at last found a straight piece of a branch that was a good thickness and length. It was hard to tell how fresh it was, and it wouldn’t be much use to me if it had been lying on the ground for years, rotting away. I flexed it a little under my foot and it seemed sturdy enough.

  Progress was slow as I had to put each footstep down gently to make as little sound as possible. Even then it was impossible to move silently over the rough, uneven ground. I had to either duck under low branches or very carefully push them aside, and the whole thing was nerve-racking, wearing me out.

  I came to a dip in the ground, a sort of natural bowl where the trees were a bit further apart and there was a lot of thick undergrowth and eased my way into the middle of it. It seemed a good place to rest for a little while. The phantom nail in my foot was still bothering me, like a ghost that couldn’t be exorcised, and the image of Georgia and what she had said and done continued to trouble my mind. I swished the stick in front of me, moving it through the air in practice swings, and wondered if I could really use it if I had to. Not on Georgia for sure, and probably not on Abby either, but I didn’t think I’d have any trouble smashing it into Sanders’ face. The stick in my hand was reassuring, empowering.

  Should I start back toward the house now? I had no idea of the time and cursed myself for forgetting to put on my watch earlier. At a sheer guess I reckoned I probably had at least two more hours to go before my ‘shift’ ended. I couldn’t risk getting close to the house before Wheeler was due to come downstairs and take over as night watchman.

  I moved a bit deeper into the depression in the ground and stopped at an enormous, low-limbed conifer that spread out in all directions. On hands and knees, I parted the undergrowth beneath it and crawled to the ancient trunk. There could be anything in here, all kinds of creepy crawlies and bugs and hundred legged caterpillars. That was too bad, it was a safe spot and beggars can’t be choosers. I crouched there uncomfortably with my back against the gnarled trunk, my stick held in both hands, ready to rise if need be.

  My plan, if you could call it that, was to sit them out.

  * * *

  The bugs were driving me crazy. I don’t know how many times I felt something crawling on my bare arm or leg and had to clench my jaw tight to stop myself from screaming out loud. My arms went flailing about as I frantically brushed the little buggers off. Then an insect landed on the pool of sweat at the back of my neck. Before I could swat it away it had bitten me. The sudden pain made me hiss a curse out loud.

  My sense of time passing was now totally out of whack. I guessed it could be around three-thirty or so, though maybe that was wishful thinking. Whatever time it was, I’d had enough of hiding in here among my multi-legged frenemies. I had to get moving again.

  I crawled out and used the stick to push myself onto my feet, my stiff joints cracking in protest. As I straightened up I became lightheaded and swayed, just managing to keep myself from falling. If there was anyone waiting to jump me, now would be the perfect time.

  No one appeared; no one attacked. My toe touched something hard and I stooped down and picked it up. It was a smooth, oval stone, rounded at one end and tapering more narrowly at the other, and it fitted snugly into my hand. I’d just acquired another weapon.

  I listened for several minutes but heard nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious, and took a few careful steps in what I reckoned was the direction of house. My plan now was really simple; cut diagonally through the forest and come out at the open ground in front of the house. From the edge of the tree line I’d be able to spot any danger, any traps set for me. If the coast was clear, I’d make a run fo
r it. Even if Sanders came after me, I strongly fancied my chances at beating him in a straight race. There was no way the big muscle-bound creep could run as fast as me. The front door would be locked – I cursed myself for pulling it shut behind me – so I’d have to hammer and bang on it until someone opened up.

  It was either that or stay out the rest of the night; my body stiff with tension and downright fear, and maybe get caught at the end of it all. The thought made me shudder. What I really wanted most was to get back inside and be with other, normal people – Nora most of all but Toby and the rest of them too, even Wheeler.

  I stepped cautiously through the forest until I neared the edge and the trees began to thin out. From here on, the risks were greater. The moonlight was quite bright right now and Sanders and his two female stooges would be able to see me. I stood behind a thick trunk and listened again. There were no human noises, no footsteps or cracking sticks, just the sound of an owl hooting somewhere in the distance. I crouched down and kept low and made my way from tree to tree until I reached the very last one.

  So far, so good.

  The house stood directly in front of me, its dense black shape standing out against the star-speckled sky. It was a long distance off and uphill all the way. At least the phantom nail in my foot had stopped bothering me at last. I had my two improvised weapons, the stick in my right hand and the rock in my left. The stick was light enough to bring with me and I might need it. The stone was too heavy to run with and I’d have to leave it behind.

  I bent down and placed the rock quietly on the ground. As I was straightening up, I heard a sound behind me. Someone was running. Before I had time to do anything, strong arms wrapped themselves around me from behind and began to squeeze. The shock of the surprise attack made me drop the stick and now I was defenceless.

  “Don’t resist.” The words popped into my head in Sanders’ voice.

  I squirmed and struggled to break free, but his grip was too tight. He pressed his body weight on me and pushed me down on my knees. As soon as he got me spread-eagled on the grass, it would be all over. I resisted and pushed back with every bit of strength I had left. But it was no use; Sanders was far bigger and stronger than me and pushed me down even more. I stuck my arms out to keep myself from getting flattened on the ground.

  It was just holding off the inevitable. If Sanders had wanted to, he could have picked me up and body slammed me, broken some of my bones. His mind trick didn’t seem to be numbing me right now, maybe because of all the adrenalin flooding through my body. My guess was he was holding me until the other two arrived.

  I kept pushing back as hard as I could, but all it did was make me weaker and weaker. I had to try something else. If only I could break his grip around my ribs that was squeezing the breath out of me. I swung back my right elbow and the bony point went into Sanders’ face. Nothing happened, so I did it again. This time Sanders was ready for it and I only got the top of his head. Then I swung my left elbow. I must have got him in the eye because he swayed backward, and his grip relaxed. I followed up with a backwards head butt and Sanders let go completely. I got one leg straightened out, foot back on the ground.

  My victory ended there. Sanders swung his fist and landed a heavy punch right into my kidneys. Terrible pain shot through my body and I crumbled up. Tears streamed out of my eyes as I fell forward and hit the grass.

  With my head to the side, I watched as Sanders stood over me. He was still rubbing his face where I’d got him with a couple of good elbow shots. Blood was pouring out of his nose. At least that was a little consolation.

  My fingertips touched something hard and cold; the rock I’d been carrying. I wrapped my hand around it and began to rise. If Sanders let me get up, I might have another chance.

  I got on my two feet, my back still to Sanders, and swung around with my arm extended straight out, the rock clenched in my fist. With the force of a slingshot, my arm arced toward the side of Sanders’ head. At the last second, he detected the movement and turned his face to look at it.

  The rock, pointed end out, slammed into Sanders’ cheek and I heard a sharp crack of breaking bone. He moaned and collapsed at the knees. It was the sweetest, most perfectly timed and executed thing I’d ever done. I dropped the stone and started running.

  To be honest, I was actually feeling shocked and weak at the knees about the violence I’d just carried out, but there was no time to think about that now. I sprinted into the open grass and started running up the slope to the house. Nothing could stop me now. I kept my eyes on the two large concrete pillars that served as a kind of gateway and ignored my increasing panting and breathlessness. By the time I got to the gate posts I’d slowed down to a jog. Behind me was just empty ground, with Sanders nowhere to be seen. If I’d seriously injured him, Toby would know what to do about it when I got inside.

  I was almost at the pillars when Abby and Georgia stepped out from behind them. Georgia had her top on again and the two of them looked anything but friendly.

  “Stop running, Nick,” I heard Abby say inside my head.

  “Look at me,” Georgia added.

  Despite myself, I slowed to a walk and stared right at Georgia, who was staring back at me. Something clicked in my mind, some sort of connection reset. Georgia reached out her arms and I went toward her. It was all happening so fast. An alarm bell rang somewhere else in my head, deep down, being smothered.

  “Come and be one with me,” Georgia urged.

  I wanted to hear the alarm bell instead. By now I’d stopped, and I brought both my hands up and literally smacked my face, one cheek then the other, over and over. The pain made it possible to resist the thing that had invaded me, and Georgia’s internal voice melted away. She grabbed my arms, but I wrenched free and beat her hands away from me. By now, Abby was beside me. I dipped my shoulder into Abby, knocked her over, and started running again. The house wasn’t far ahead now. I increased speed and prayed that Sanders wasn’t waiting for me there.

  Mustn’t trip, mustn’t fall, must keep going, and raise hell at the door.

  Which door, front or back? The back was too dangerous; better stick to my original plan. I ran up to the door and began banging on it with my fists. They weren’t making enough noise, so I grabbed the big metal knocker and started slamming it down as hard as I could.

  “Open the door, let me in, they’re right behind me,” I shouted again and again.

  An eternity of time ticked by that was probably only about a minute. Still no-one came. My voice became hoarse, and all I could do was keep shouting and banging the hateful wooden barrier between me and safety. Why wouldn’t they open it? Did they think I was dangerous now too?

  A big figure loomed up behind me and I started shaking all over again. Sanders came closer. There was something wrong with his face, it was all caved in on the side where I’d hit him. It didn’t slow him down though. I pounded and shouted and pounded and shouted. Sanders was right behind me now. Exhausted, terrified, my nerve broke and I slumped to my knees and gabbled a prayer. With my ear close to the door, I heard something rattling on the other inside. Someone was pulling back the chain lock.

  I let out a last desperate scream.

  The door opened. I looked up into Nora’s worried face. She was in danger now too and somehow, I managed to gasp a warning.

  “Don’t let him in; for God’s sake don’t let him in.”

  Someone came up behind Nora and pushed her aside. Wheeler stood above me and pointed his shotgun over my head. Two loud blasts deafened me, and I thought my heart had stopped. Then there was the smell of gun cartridges and a blessed, heavenly silence.

  With the last dregs of my strength I crawled inside the house and collapsed in a heap on the hallway floor.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The remaining houseguests finished their breakfast and rose from the table, the signal for Peterman to get cracking. He felt a yawn coming on and clenched his lips tightly together to disguise it. It wasn’t the sort
of thing you wanted guests to see, or the boss himself, for that matter. He’d managed only about four hours sleep last night, what with staying up late and then having to rise in the middle of the night to attend to Nick Johnson who’d got into trouble. By the time Peterman had cleaned the young idiot up and got him to sleep, it wasn’t worth his while to go back to bed himself, with breakfast time less than an hour away. Marie would cover for him later and he’d grab a nap in the afternoon.

  He gathered up the last of the plates and cutlery, rinsed them, put them in the dishwasher and changed the tablecloth. Marie was down in the basement washing and ironing the laundry, which would keep her busy for the rest of the morning. Then lunch would come around and the two of them would attend to that. Later, they’d put fresh sheets on the beds and do a bit of vacuuming. When there were guests in the house the work was never done. And that wasn’t even counting all the extra nonsense that was going on.

  He checked the cupboards and fridge and saw some empty spaces. Vegetables and tinned food were running low and it was time to fetch some more from the big shed out back. He went to a storage cupboard, pulled on a spare pair of outdoor shoes and grabbed a carry cart he kept there.

  Outside, it was another brilliant day. The sort of day, if the boss and his spoilt guests weren’t around, Peterman would be enjoying a long hike or a paddle in the river. He looked around for Sanders and the two young women, but they were nowhere to be seen. If they had any sense, they’d be enjoying themselves in the forest, and Peterman could imagine what a young whore hound like Sanders would be doing with the women. Maybe that was what was driving Wheeler so crazy.

  Peterman sighed deeply. Twenty years younger and he’d be out there with them, doing what comes naturally.

  He groped in his pocket and found the key. Locking the back door was an unnecessary precaution – he’d only be gone for a few minutes – but if he didn’t the boss might find out and give off stink again for not following orders. Sometimes it was as much as Peterman could do not to react to Wheeler’s reprimands and condescending remarks.