by Rick Hautala
… Can they make a boat out of rock? …
Her stomach bubbled with a sour hollowness as she rose and fell. She couldn’t stop the sensation that she was tumbling backward head over heels, falling and spinning into darkness. She imagined that she heard voices, whispering and hissing at her from all directions, but she couldn’t make out anything they were saying. The pain inside her head kept shifting between faint red tracer flashes of light and a steady, heavy humming sound. It was quite a while, and it took a lot of effort before she could start to remember what had happened. Then fragments of the last few—what? Hours? Minutes?-popped into her mind like fireworks explosions across the night sky.
… Brian … he was hurt … he’d fallen … and I was there … in the old mill … and someone something … hit me from behind.
She wanted to touch the side of her head, to check for damage, but something restrained her. No matter how hard she tried to move either of her arms, they were locked in place behind her back. Burning pain filled her arm sockets. She wasn’t even aware of her legs; there was absolutely no feeling from her waist down.
… Did I break my arms … or my neck? … Am I paralyzed? … How did I fall? … What the hell hit me? …
She wanted to say something, to ask where she was or beg for help, but her mouth was also locked in place, clamped firmly shut. For the longest time she forgot that the doctor had already taken out the wires holding her jaw together. Her tongue felt unusually large, like a bloated slug as it pressed against her teeth, tasting … something … either the cold sting of metal wires … or else blood!
Oh my God! … Is my jaw still wired shut?
That thought had a slamming immediacy that instantly brought her closer to awareness. Sucking hard through her mouth, she drew in a breath that wheezed and whistled between her teeth. It hurt like hell to do it, but she shifted her jaw from side to side until she felt the satisfying crunch of her teeth grinding together.
Yes, yes… I’m okay … at least my jaw is!
She came even closer to consciousness and could feel slick sweat on her face and the hard, unyielding rock behind her head. The pain in the back of her head got more acute, shooting like a jet of flame through her. She forced herself to take another deep breath and winced when something sharp jabbed like a knife underneath her ribs
Something’s gotta be broken! … What the hell happened to me?
“Hey, you’re coming around,” a voice said. It whispered from the darkness close to her right ear.
Dianne stopped rolling her head and strained hard to see who it was, but she couldn’t make out any details of her surroundings, much less who had spoken to her. The darkness was impenetrable.
“Hey, are you all right?”
The voice was clear and seemed to be edged with concern.
“… Mnn … I don’t—”
Dianne cut herself off sharply, startled by the sudden loud sound of her own voice. The ringing in her ears got louder, and she felt curiously dissociated from her body.
The pain increased as she fought to gain consciousness, so why fight?
“I tried to warn you, you know,” the voice said, warbling softly.
“… Uhh-huh …” Dianne replied.
She tried again to move her arms but couldn’t. Her eyelids fluttered, scraping roughly against her eyes as she forced them open to tiny slits. Thin, watery traces of white light danced in front of her and shattered into hundreds of bright spikes. Overhead, something—probably the ceiling rafters of the mill—glowed like hot metal bars.
Yes! … I remember now … I came out to the mill! … But why? … How did I know to come out here?
She craned her neck forward and saw something else—no, someone blocking the center of the light source. The dark silhouette was thick and rounded, and reminded Dianne of a huge, purple thunderhead, rolling up over the horizon. The storm’s about to break.
“Don’t try to move,” the whispering voice said. “It’s no use. He’s got us.”
This time the voice had a trace of familiarity to it. Dianne concentrated hard, trying to place it; then in a flash it hit her.
Brian! Oh, shit! That’s right—
“Brian …?”
—it’s Brian!
“Shsssh! Be quiet or else you’ll—”
“Oh, so you’re awake now, are you?”
This new voice came out of the darkness, booming so loud it hurt Dianne’s ears. She knew immediately that its source was the dark silhouette she saw squatting in front of the bright light. She heard a high-pitched hiss and realized it was the sound of a Coleman lantern, like the one she and Edward had used camping last spring.
She watched, more than half-expecting to see flashing tongues of lightning and hear the steady roll of thunder when the man stood up and stretched to an impossible height.
Who the hell is he?
“And I’ll bet you have one hell of a headache, too. Don’t ya, little lady?”
Dianne licked her lips, wanting to say something, but she could do nothing but watch in silent horror as the person moved slowly toward her. With the light behind him, he was nothing more than a huge, black blur. From the center of the darkness came a soft chuffing sound of laughter. Dianne could feel the piercing intensity of the man’s gaze as he stared at her. A line of white lit up one side of his face, and in a stunned instant, she thought she recognized him.
“Edward …?”
The twisted laughter got louder.
“Oh, my God! Edward! What are you—”
The man’s laughter rose even higher, almost masking
Brian’s voice when he whispered, “No way! That’s not my dad!”
Dianne dimly registered what Brian had said, but it was impossible for her brain to process it. Spirals of darkness were shifting and opening up below her. She felt herself falling again … falling backward into the cold darkness, away from the hurtful light. She clung desperately to consciousness, but Brian’s voice warbled weakly, fading with every syllable. From far, far away, she heard him say, “That’s my … crazy … Uncle Mike.”
“That’s right!” the other voice said, rising to a sharp, pealing howl. “I’m his cra-a-azy Uncle Mike! The nut case! The loony bird!”
His laughter rang out like a chiming bell, drilling into Dianne’s ears and making her wince.
“Brian? Are you … all right?” Dianne asked groggily. She struggled hard to keep her voice from breaking with fear. “He didn’t … hurt you or anything, did he?”
“No, I’m all—”
“Hurt him? Hurt him? Why Jesus Christ of course not! I wouldn’t want to hurt him!”
He snorted loudly, sounding like an enraged pig. “There may be somebody around here who wants to hurt him, maybe a lot of people, but not me! No-siree! Why on earth would I want to hurt my own nephew?”
Mike’s voice rose even higher until it was lost in a wild, crazy cackle. Dianne tried hard to block him out so she could focus all of her attention on what she was trying to say to Brian, but the darkness inside her head was luring her, calling to her, telling her just to let go, give it all up and sink back down to where it didn’t hurt anymore, where nothing would hurt … ever again.
“Your father,” she said, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth, fighting with everything she had to stay conscious. “Does he … know you’re out here?”
“No. No one does … ’cept you,” Brian replied. His voice wavered like he was scared out of his mind, but he was putting up a good front.
“You should have a talk with some of these people,” Mike shouted. “Listen to what they have to say! If you want to know about hurt, they can tell you! They know what hurt is all about!”
Dianne took a deep, steadying breath and tried to block out the raging voice. “Brian, do you think your dad knows he’s out here?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. I … I’ve known for the past couple of weeks, but I … I never told him.”
“Jesus … Why not?” Di
anne said, lowering her head and sighing. She didn’t dare say out loud what she was thinking. Even in her pain and despair, she knew, if they were going to have even a slight chance of getting out of this, they were going to have to pull together.
“You’ve been ignoring them, haven’t you? Haven’t you? Goddamn it! After all this time! After all this time they’ve been waiting for you or someone—for anyone to pay attention to them. The least little bit of attention! My mother sure as hell knew they were here! Didn’t she tell you what you had to do? She was supposed to explain it all to you! To take care of them!”
“Don’t worry, Brian,” Dianne said. She had to shout to be heard above Michael’s nearly incoherent raving. “Your dad’s gonna know something’s up when we’re not around. He’ll be worried and he’ll—”
“Be worried? Jesus Christ, he’s gonna be worried!” Michael wailed.
Dianne glanced over and saw him, leaning his head back and shaking his fists wildly at the ceiling. “You bet your fuckin’ ass he’s gonna be worried! He fucking well ought to be worried! But you and he will have plenty of time to talk about it because I’m gonna go get him for you right now!”
His laughter rose shrilly, but it finally was too much for Dianne. Her grip on consciousness slipped, and she plunged back down into the comforting pitch black inside her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Other Voices
It was a little after six-thirty. The sun had already set, and the sky was quickly fading to a deep, bruised purple when Edward pulled into the driveway and stopped the pickup truck. There were no lights on in the house, but he barely gave that a thought as he slipped out of the truck and started up the walkway to the house. In his hand was a small bottle of Tylenol he had driven into town to buy. He had swallowed two tablets dry on the drive home, but—so far—they hadn’t even touched his headache. He planned on waiting another few minutes before taking another two.
“Hey, Dianne! I’m home!” he shouted as he entered the kitchen. He let the door bang shut behind him as he swatted on the light switch with the flat of his hand and looked around.
He could tell instantly that no one was home. The house had that weird, deserted feeling houses can get when you know they’re empty. He glanced over at the kitchen table, which was where he and Dianne left notes for each other whenever they were going out. The table was bare. Frowning, he walked into the hallway, snapped on the light at the bottom of the steps, and called out, “Hey, Brian! You home?”
The house remained perfectly still except for the soft huffing of his breathing.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
He walked back into the kitchen and went over to the sink. Taking a glass from the cupboard, he ran the faucet until the water was nice and cold, then popped another Tylenol into his mouth and washed it down with several gulps of water. After rinsing out the glass, he placed it upside down in the dish drainer, then leaned his elbows on the counter and stared out the kitchen window as evening descended.
It’s starting to get dark too early, he thought, wishing to hell that he still had a month or two of guaranteed good weather to get the new house closed in before autumn came. But like it or not, summer was almost over, and cold weather was on its way. He heaved a sigh and gingerly probed the back of his head. The pain seemed to be lessening … slightly, and that gave him an opportunity to wonder—Where the hell is everybody?
The house didn’t feel right.
Something was off-key—wrong.
He was pretty sure he had seen the car in the garage, so he knew Dianne couldn’t have gone too far. It didn’t seem likely that both she and Brian would be out at the same time—certainly not together! For the past couple of days, whenever she wasn’t freaking out and screaming at him, Dianne had spent most of her time moping around the house. Brian, playing the role of the alienated preteen to the hilt, spent all of his time in his bedroom, either sleeping, reading, or listening to music. Edward knew his son was just counting the hours until he went back home to Phoenix.
He jumped and let out a startled little cry when the telephone rang.
That’s probably Dianne now, he thought as he crossed the kitchen floor quickly and snatched up the receiver in the middle of its second ring.
“Hello—” he said.
A mild little zing of pain shot through the back of his head when he pressed the phone against his ear.
“Edward. Good Lord, where the heck have you been all day?”
“Hi yah, Sally,” Edward said, cringing at the sound of his ex-wife’s voice. “So, how are things out there in Arizona?”
“Oh, fine, just fine. You know, I’ve been calling the house all afternoon and haven’t gotten an answer until now. Where has everyone been?”
“I dunno—just … out, I guess.”
His voice caught for a moment when he sensed a subtle shifting of motion behind him. He turned around, thoroughly expecting to see either Brian or Dianne enter the kitchen, and was surprised to see no one there. He shivered in spite of the heavy heat in the room. Now that he thought about it, the house did feel as though it had been closed up all day. Where the hell were Dianne and Brian?
“Well,” Sally said, “I was just calling to confirm our plans for next Saturday. You said Brian was flying on Delta, Flight 202, arriving in Phoenix a little after six o’clock my time, right?”
Edward glanced at the note he’d jotted on the wall calendar and read aloud. “Flight 202, arriving six-fourteen P.M. Yup, that’s right.”
“Great. Say, is Brian right there? I’d like to speak with him.”
“Uh—no, no he isn’t here right now,” Edward said.
There was an uncomfortable pause at the other end of the line; then Sally said, “You sound kind of funny. Is everything all right?”
“Sure, sure. Couldn’t be better,” Edward replied. “I just—he’s over at a—a friend’s house and won’t be back until after supper.”
Pain pulsated like tiny hammer blows in the back of his head.
“But you sound kind of funny to me,” Sally said, her voice sharp and probing. “Are you sure you’re not—”
“I’m fine! Really, everything’s fine!” Edward said. The pain in his head throbbed all the harder. He closed his eyes and pressed against them, wishing to Christ her voice would just go away.
“You know you can’t hide anything from me, Edward. Lord knows I lived with you long enough to be able to tell when you’re trying to hide something from me. Tell me the truth. Has anything happened?”
“No, no. Everything’s just fine out here. Honest!”
But even as the words were leaving his mouth, Edward shivered with the uncomfortable sensation that someone was standing behind him, watching him and listening to everything he said. The hairs at the nape of his neck prickled. He shifted around so his back was against the wall as he scanned the room. The window over the kitchen sink framed almost total darkness outside, and the lights were off in the dining room, but there had definitely been a feeling that something had moved, like the shadow of a cloud passing in front of the sun. But it hadn’t come from either of those directions; it had seemed as though, when his back had been turned, the motion had been in the hallway, over by the stairway.
“Edward—?” Sally said, her voice growing heavy with impatience.
“Huh? What’d you say?” Edward asked, realizing that he had completely missed whatever she had just said. Her voice was nothing more than an irritating insect buzz in his ear. Stray thoughts about their relationship and how bad it had been at the end, especially after Brian was born, flashed through his mind. He wanted desperately to end this conversation, and he prayed that listening to her wouldn’t make his headache any worse. “I asked if you’d make sure to have Brian give me a call later—tonight, as soon as he gets home. Because of the time difference, it doesn’t matter how late. There are a few things I have to talk to him about.”
“Uh, yeah—sure. No problem,” Edward said. “If it�
��s anything important, you can leave any message with me.”
“No … just that.”
As they spoke, Edward’s eyes kept shifting back and forth, searching for whatever it was that might have drawn his attention. It could have been the thin wash of shadow cast by the kitchen light into the doorway, but he couldn’t help but think it was more than that. The house was eerily quiet, as if it were holding its breath. Sally started going on about something else, but Edward barely paid attention when a heavy thump sounded from somewhere upstairs.
“What the—?” he said, jumping with surprise and glancing up at the ceiling. It had sounded like something heavy—a sledgehammer or something—falling or dropping to the floor upstairs.
“Uh, look, Sally,” he said. A dry lump had formed in his throat and wouldn’t go down no matter how hard he tried to swallow. “I—I’d love to talk a bit, but somebody … an old friend of mine just drove up. I gotta go.”
“Oh, sure,” Sally said. “No sweat. But there’s one more thing—”
“Yeah?”
“Please, Edward, break down and buy yourself an answering machine, all right? This is, after all, the twentieth century.”
“Yeah, sure,” Edward replied. “S’long. Good to hear from you … and I’ll be sure to give Brian your message.”
He didn’t wait to hear her say goodbye; he was already reaching to hang up the phone and moving toward the kitchen doorway. Before he left the kitchen, though, he glanced around, looking for something to use as a weapon, but that struck him as ridiculous. What the hell was he getting so worked up about? He admitted that the sound from upstairs had startled him, but that was no reason to get all worked up. The most reasonable explanation was that either Dianne or Brian was up there, perhaps just waking up from a nap or something … or else maybe Brian was in the attic again poking around and hadn’t heard him when he first called out to him.