The Presence

by Shady Grim

  “Tim was in the truck. Someone took ‘im.”

  I moved around to the passenger’s side and saw more footprints about the same size as the others. These prints didn’t show a dragging foot like the others. This was a different person, one who didn’t have an injured leg. I doubted that they were Tim’s footprints. I’d never actually taken notice of the size of Tim’s feet, but I’d be surprised if a man that small would have such large feet. Additionally, if he’d left the truck for the woods, returned, and left again, there would be three set of prints instead of two. I pulled out my cell phone. “Ethan, get in my truck!” I jumped in after him, cell phone in hand. “How did you manage to get a signal this close to the house?”

  “Don’t know.” I put the truck in reverse and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. Ethan grabbed the mezuzah before it rolled off the seat. “Where’re yeh goin’?”

  “The police station.” Ethan slid over and slammed his foot on the break. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “We need to go back to the house.”

  “You just texted me to call the police.”

  “Why didn’t yeh?”

  “Because you misspelled the message, I thought you were asking for a cold poultice.”

  Ethan reached over me and put the truck in drive. “I’m thinkin’ more clearly now.” He placed his foot over mine and pressed on the gas. The engine of my old ford truck growled enthusiastically as it came to life and propelled us up the driveway. The uneven ground caused the nearly empty truck bed to sway and bounce so much that I had difficulty controlling it. Ethan put his hands over mine and helped me steer. Seconds later Ethan was slamming his foot on the break again and we came to sudden halt. I removed my foot from the gas pedal the moment that Ethan unpinned it. My foot ached from Ethan stomping on it. We exited the truck and ran for the kitchen. Ethan stopped to look for his bottle of bourbon, and I ran straight for the hall telephone. It wasn’t on the hall table, and the phone cord was also missing. I ran back to the kitchen.

  “The phone’s gone!”

  “So’s the bourbon, and the glasses that Tim and I used have been washed and put back in the cabinet.”

  “Shelly.”

  “Who else?” I turned away to find Shelly. “Calm down first, Heather.”

  “How can I be calm at a time like this?”

  “If Shelly suspects that we know anythin’, she’s gonna make things harder for us.”

  “What’s she going to do, Ethan, shoot us with an empty gun?”

  “Yeh get sarcastic when yer pissed off, so I’m gonna let that slide. Thor and the pigs will be alone with Shelly when we leave. We can’t split up, and we can’t be in two places at once. Yeh need to calm down.”

  Ethan talking sensibly made me feel a bit disoriented, but his words achieved the desired effect. I felt my temper cool a little. “Okay, I’ll do my best.” Ethan and I walked to the hall stairs. I checked on Thor, who was sleeping soundly. I quietly closed the study door and locked it. Ethan was climbing the stairs to the third floor by the time I reached Shelly’s bedroom. Her door was open and she was lying on her bed reading a magazine. “Hey, Shelly?” I said as pleasantly as I could manage.

  “Hmm?” She turned a page of her magazine and never lifted her eyes to look at me.

  “Have you seen the hall phone?”

  “Of course, I see it every day.”

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s missing, and I can’t find it.”

  “Why are you asking me? You don’t think I go walking around with that giant old phone under my arm, do you?”

  I’m generally an even-tempered person, but even I have my limits. Her attitude was grating on my nerves. If I didn’t get away from her soon, I was going to roll up that magazine of hers and beat her with it. “I was just wondering if you saw it.”

  “I haven’t,” she snapped.

  “Do you think maybe the kids pulled a prank on me and hid it?”

  She smiled, still looking at her magazine. Her tone was overly sweet. “Yes, that’s probably what happened to it.”

  “Okay, thanks, I’ll leave you to your reading.” I turned and closed her door over. Ethan passed me. He had two rifles slung over his shoulders and my backpack in his hand. He put his finger to his lips to shush me, and pointed for me to follow him. He didn’t speak until we were back in the kitchen.

  “Yeh ready?” he said as he placed everything on the table.

  “I don’t want to take a gun. We’re not mercenaries.”

  “I’m not arguin’ about this again. If yeh don’t want this one, I’ll take ‘em both.” He pulled the mezuzah from his pocket and asked what it was.

  “Dr. Zee gave it to me. He said it’s to protect the house. It comes with instructions.” I handed him the piece of paper Zee had given me. Ethan was turning the mezuzah over in his hands, looking for a way to open it. “He said not to open it.”

  “See, even Sherm believes, so it has to be true. Now, what do we do with this?”

  “He said we have to hang it on the right side of the door as we enter. The top has to slant toward the house, and it has to be placed at shoulder height.”

  “Mine or yers?”

  “I asked the same thing. That’s kind of a vague instruction, isn’t it? He wrote it down for me.” I pointed to the folded paper in Ethan’s hands.

  “His handwriting is awful,” said Ethan, squinting at the paper. “I got it, it says a third of the way from the top. That’s no problem. Get my little grey toolbox off the front porch, would yeh? This’ll only take a minute.”

  I fetched his toolbox and when I returned, I found him outside examining the door with the instructions left on the kitchen table. “Wait!” I picked up the paper he’d left and went after him. “We have to say this prayer first.”

  “I’ll say it since yer not yet a believer.”

  “Am I going to hear this for the rest of my life?”

  “Yeh know me, when I get a hold o’ somethin’ I don’t let go of it,” he said with a grin. “Hey, what’s this word?”

  “It’s ‘God’ obviously.”

  “But there’s a letter missin’.”

  “It’s a three letter word, figure it out,” I said impatiently.

  “But what if I’m supposed to pronounce it different? What if I say it wrong?”

  “Since we’re not Jewish, I’m sure God will cut us some slack if we make any mistakes.”

  “But ain’t that like a mortal sin or somethin’?”

  “Ineptitude isn’t a sin.”

  “Yeah, but messin’ up on a prayer, ain’t that like blasphemy or somethin’? It’s gotta be somethin’ bad.”

  “If it is, I’m sure we can get the sin dropped from mortal to venial since we’re of a different faith and don’t know the proper procedure. If you’re still worried about it, we can go to confession and get it absolved.”

  “Okay, that sounds good.” He picked up the paper again and cleared his throat for prayer. I stood next to him with my thumbs hooked in my back pockets. After a few moments of silence, I looked up at him and realized that he was staring at me. “Yeh could at least stand up straight.”

  I put my hands at my sides and stood as straight as I could. I looked at him again after several more seconds of silence. “What now?”

  “Yer not gonna bow yer head...or...?”

  “I am this close to wringing your neck! I’ll fold my hands and bow my head, will that satisfy you?”

  “Fine!” he yelled back. “Yer such a grump. It’s not good to have negative thoughts during prayer time, just so yeh know.” He raised the paper again, cleared his throat, and recited the prayer in a loud clear voice. “Blessed are you, L-rd our G-d, King of the universe, Who has sanctified us with His commandments and commanded us to affix a Mezuzah. Should we say, Amen?”

  “Amen!” I said. He said the same and blessed himself.

  “Oh, I forgot to bless myself before I started. Should I do it again?”

  “No
, that was fine, just hurry up. We’ve wasted too much time already.” I went inside to fetch the rifles. I came back out wearing my backpack and my rifle slung over my shoulder.

  “I thought yeh didn’t want a gun?”

  “If it will shut you up and get your ass moving, I’ll carry the damn thing.”

  “Well, somebody’s in a pissy mood. What do yeh think?” he said, looking at the newly mounted mezuzah.

  “Perfect,” I replied, handing him his gun. “Let’s go.”

  “Are we takin’ the truck, or do yeh just wanna cut through the woods on foot?” said Ethan as he followed me down the porch steps.

  “We should be fine on foot. We can only take the truck so far anyway.

  SHELLY LISTENED FOR the slam of the backdoor at her open bedroom window. She didn’t hear the door, but she did hear muffled talking, so she hiked up to Heather’s bedroom and climbed out onto the walk. She waited for Heather and Ethan to disappear behind the tree line before going back down to her bedroom to fetch the telephone she’d hidden in her closet. Shelly nervously descended the stairs to the first-floor hallway. She cradled the antique telephone in her hands like it was shield. Her eyes immediately darted to the study door. It was closed, and hopefully that damn dog was behind it. She remembered the dog opening the door and staring at her, but Fitzie convinced her that it was just her imagination, a side effect of fear and sedatives. Fitzie would know; Fitzie was always right. She walked to the hall table and plugged the telephone into the wall and called Fitzie. She shot glances every few seconds at the study door just to be sure that it was still closed. The phone rang a dozen times, and Shelly nervously bit her lip. An out-of-breath Fitzie finally answered.

  “Hey-ho, Fitzie here.”

  “It’s Shelly. They’re gone and they’ve g–”

  “Thanks, doll, I’m a little busy right now, but I’ll pass the message on.” Fitzie hung up before Shelly could finish. She called him back, but kept getting his voicemail. She slammed the phone receiver down in a fit. What was she to do now? Should she wait, or should she leave? Shelly paced the hall wringing her hands and staring at the study door.

  HERBERT KNEELED OVER Royal’s unconscious form. He was gently running his index finger over the scar on the boy’s neck. If it had been him that night, the boy would be dead and they wouldn’t have had to plan such a complicated undertaking. Their lives could’ve been more peaceful without the lengthy wait, and the worry, and the preparation. Not that Herbert blamed his precious Lizbet. She had never lied to him, and she’d always appreciated his special talents. She’d followed the Lord’s instruction as best she could. Lizbet did her best; she always did her best. The shrill ringing of a mobile phone made Herbert jump.

  “Turn that thing off!”

  Byron’s hand plunged into his trouser pocket. “It’s Gerry, sir.”

  “Answer it, and be quick about it!”

  Tim felt something touching his neck and it stirred him. He wasn’t stupid enough to open his eyes. Tim kept his body still and his breathing shallow. He recognized Herbert’s voice when he barked an order at Byron. Tim thought he heard someone snicker. There was a third person present. It obviously wasn’t Gerald because Byron was speaking to him on the phone. It wasn’t Lizbet either. She’d be barking orders if she were here.

  “Gerry said they’re coming for us.”

  “Is that all, no other details?”

  “That’s all he said, sir.”

  “Is he coming? Is he on his way here?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “He’s supposed to be here! Where is he?”

  “He’s...um...busy.”

  “He’s with those harlots again, isn’t he? Answer me!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sins of the flesh!” blurted Herbert. “Oh, your poor mother–well, there’s nothing to be done for it. We must press on.” Herbert pointed at Jim. “You keep watch over Royal.”

  “What’s to watch? He’s out cold.”

  “No, he’s not,” said Herbert. Tim opened his eyes and smiled. Something about the smile frightened Byron, and he had to look away. Tim lay spread-eagle with his limbs tied to stakes in the ground. Herbert had bound him with thick leather straps, and had the foresight to remove Tim’s shoes and socks before tying down his legs. The straps were too thick to chew through, and they were tied so tightly that Tim’s hands and feet were turning blue. He hoped that someone other than Herbert had knocked in the stakes as it might give him a chance to pull one loose. Herbert knew how strong Tim was, but Byron and Jim didn’t. They’d view him as small and weak, and would likely not see the point in hammering the stakes too forcibly.

  “He’s tied down good, Herbert. He’s not going anywhere,” said Jim.

  “Don’t talk to him, and don’t get too close.”

  “What’s so special about that scrawny little runt? My sister’s bigger than he is.”

  “Do as I say!” barked Herbert. “We haven’t time for this!” Herbert grabbed Byron’s shoulder and shoved him forward. The two men disappeared into the brush.

  “Your dad’s a lunatic,” said Jim as he paced around Tim’s head.

  “Tell me about it.” Tim wrapped his swollen hands around the stakes, placed his feet on the others, and tried to rock them. The stake tied to his left hand was the loosest. He focused his energy on the loose stake, rocking it back and forth, and twisting it. He was rapidly losing control of his hands and had to do something quickly.

  “How did you get caught up in all this craziness?”

  “I was born into it, no choice in the matter.”

  “Hey, get your feet off the stakes.” Jim kicked Tim’s right leg to shift his foot.

  “I can’t move them,” said Tim. “The blood’s cut off.”

  “Yeah, they’re looking kinda gross.”

  “I suppose there’s no chance of you loosening the straps?”

  “You suppose correctly,” said Jim as he kicked Tim’s left leg. Tim spied a black leather sheath hanging on Jim’s belt. Judging by the size and shape, it most likely contained a folding knife.

  “Could I trouble you for some water then?”

  “I’d give it to you if I had it.”

  “There’s a canteen in my satchel.” When Jim turned away to look through the satchel, Tim rocked and twisted the loose stake as hard as he could.

  Jim set the bag down. He had Tim’s water canteen in his hand. “You smoke a lot of weed, man.” Tim almost laughed. People immediately assume a bag of dried plant matter is marijuana, as if there were no other herbs or other uses for plants except to dull one’s mind. Jim knelt next to Tim and trickled water into his mouth. Tim pretended to choke and spit water in Jim’s eyes. “Careful there, buddy.” Jim wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Tim mustered up all the strength he had, used the three stable stakes for leverage, and yanked the loose stake out of ground hitting Jim hard in the temple. Jim fell unconscious across Tim’s legs. Tim felt his shoulder pop, but managed to not make a sound. Herbert had excellent hearing, and Tim didn’t know if he was nearby. It was very painful, but he was still able to move his arm. He pulled the leather knot apart with his teeth, and took Jim’s knife out of its sheath. He had barely any feeling in his swollen left hand. He opened the folding knife with his teeth, and used the knife’s tip to loosen the knot on his right hand so he could pull it apart with his fingers. He rolled Jim off and untied his feet. His feet were too swollen and blue to support him, so he scooted on his backside toward his shoes and satchel. His feet wouldn’t fit in his shoes, so he placed them in his satchel and looped the shoulder strap over his neck and shoulder. He scooted back to Jim and used a leather strap to tie both of his hands to one of the stakes, and another strap to gag him. Tim sat with his knees bent and close to his chest. He placed his hands on his shins, laced his fingers together, and slowly leaned backwards until his shoulder popped back into place. There was a sharp jolt of pain, and then a mildly painful bruising, which he could treat w
ith the “weed” in his satchel. He didn’t bother to take out his hand mirror. He already knew that he’d been marked. Tim now had enough feeling in his feet that he was able to rise and stagger away. He headed south.

  “HOW DO YOU FEEL?”

  “Fine since I puked,” replied Ethan.

  I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket and tried to get a signal. “Nothing. One of us has to go farther north.”

  “We ain’t splittin’ up. The cops can’t help us anyway, only God can help us now.”

  “Um...I was thinking that maybe you shouldn’t do this. I think you should go to Emmy.”

  “No way! I’m not lettin’ yeh walk through here by yerself. What are yeh thinkin’?”

  “Look, I don’t understand what’s going on here, but I already have a really bad feeling, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be taking any chances.”

  “I’m not backin’ off,” he said defiantly. “This thing has to be stopped. The cycle has to end. It’s been let go for far too long. It has too much of an advantage already, and we can’t ignore it anymore.”

  “You have a daughter to raise. I don’t have anyone depending on me. Let me do this myself, I’ll be fine.”

  “This is the only time in my life that I ever felt important, like I have a special purpose. Don’t take this away from me.”

  “You are important,” I said. “You’re important to me and especially to Emmy.”

  “I want Emmy to look at me the way yeh always looked at yer dad. Right now, I’m just ‘er big buddy. I’m a playmate. I want to be more than that to ‘er. Do yeh remember when she was born, I said to yeh that I couldn’t take ‘er away from ‘er mother because girls need their moms so much? Yeh told me that a little girl’s dad is superhuman to ‘er. I want ‘er to think of me that way. I want to be somebody’s hero, even if it’s just for a minute.”

  “You are her hero, Ethan. Emily loves you.”

  “She loves me now ‘cause she’s little. But when she’s older and looks back over the years, what will she think of me? She’s seen me drunk off my ass. She’s seen me high, and the fights I had with ‘er mother...” He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “Now she sees me livin’ off yer charity.”