The Haunting of Ironwood

by Jeff DeGordick

  "Where did I put it?" she asked.

  She searched the room, lifting the covers on the bed, looking on the floor and under the bed. She looked in the gaps around the nightstands on either side then checked the bookshelf. Becoming flustered, she checked the closet, then went to the bathroom. But her phone was nowhere to be seen.

  "Downstairs," she muttered. "It must be."

  She hurried down and rounded the banister past the closed front door and entered the kitchen. She scoured the counters, then checked in the cupboards and even the fridge. Next was the dining room and the living room, lifting the blanket off the couch and pressing herself flat to the floor to peer under the furniture. Still, it wasn't anywhere.

  Leave it, a voice in her head told her. You've lost plenty already. Besides, the only thing you use it for is texting Josh anyway.

  She agreed with the sentiment and headed for the front door. As she approached it from the hallway, she saw the plastic grocery bag she'd left there and all of the stolen items dumped next to it on the floor. But what really got her was the fact that the door was closed. Despite her clumsy memory, she knew she had left it open.

  Katie scooped up her bag and reached for the doorknob. When she was gone, she wouldn't have to care about any of the peculiarities she experienced in the house anymore.

  She twisted the doorknob and pulled.

  The door didn't budge.

  The deadbolt was locked, that was it. She twisted it and pulled on the door again, a little more frantically than she had intended. Again, it didn't open. After staring at the door in confusion for a while and yanking on it a few more times, she realized that there was another lock and keyhole in the door, this one facing her on the inside.

  Her brain scrambled to understand what that meant, and as the answer became increasingly clearer she fell into a panic.

  She was locked in the house; this wasn't an accident.

  "No, no, no..." she said, and she backed away from the door. She stumbled into the kitchen. Her legs were weak. Her head felt faint and she thought she might pass out. She spun around and stared at the windows with the iron bars covering each and every one of them, and then she sank to her knees and began to sob.

  The worst nightmare she could ever imagine had come true: she wasn't a house-sitter; she was a prisoner.

  Instructions

  The walls seemed to close in on her. There was a sound in her mind like a jail door slamming closed. Katie fought through the panic and got back to her feet. She looked out the kitchen window at the front of the property and saw an old blue Volvo sitting in the driveway.

  The Volvo she had seen while running errands in town the day before.

  It was the same one. It had to be. It had been following her. Earl was in it and he was watching her, because he never went anywhere.

  Katie hurried to the dining room window. She pulled it up and pushed on the bars, but they were firmly fixed to the exterior of the house. She stood on her toes and slid her arm through the bars, then she tried to get the rest of herself through them, but they were too thinly spaced for her to fit. In desperation, she hit them and shoved against them, but they didn't budge. She ran into the living room and tried another window, but the bars were solid. She hit the wooden frame around it, scratched at it. But it was no use.

  This was his plan all along. He wasn't worried about people breaking into his house; he was worried about people breaking out.

  Every time she drew in breath, it felt like her lungs were collapsing, like no breath she took was big enough to fill them. Tears rolled down her face as she tried another window, then she spun around in the middle of the room, her mind flustered and unable to think. A million thoughts ran through her brain and her eyes darted around through the tears.

  A weapon. Something to defend herself with. She needed one.

  Her eyes set on the kitchen and she hurried toward it. Katie pulled open every drawer she could find, looking for a knife.

  "There has to be one!" she sobbed.

  But nothing. Only spoons. She grabbed a handful of them and threw them across the room in frustration.

  She returned to the living room. She needed to find something fast if she wanted to stay alive. Because she didn't even know where Earl was. Was he outside? Had he come in the house and locked the door when she was upstairs? If so, where was he?

  Finding nothing else, Katie clutched the TV remote and backed herself into the corner of the room, watching the house carefully. Her breath ran ragged in and out of her lungs. Her tears hadn't stopped, despite the adrenaline. Her legs were shaky and she wanted to collapse, but she forced herself to stand. And her eyes were watching and waiting.

  Nothing on the ground floor moved. Everything was silent. And then, a voice.

  "Sit at the dining room table."

  Katie squirmed, hearing Earl's loud voice echoing in the living room, but not seeing him. Her eyes darted everywhere. She even spun around and looked at the corner behind her out of paranoia.

  "There is a book sitting on the dining room table. Read it."

  Just like he said, on the dining room table was a book that hadn't been there before.

  Katie's eyes narrowed in on the voice, settling on what looked like a smoke alarm on the ceiling. But it wasn't a smoke alarm at all; it was a speaker.

  "Sit down," Earl said pointedly.

  He wasn't anywhere in sight, but he knew exactly where she was and what she was doing. Katie's gaze searched around and she found it.

  A small circle of ceiling had been cut away at the edge of the living and dining rooms. A dark lens poked through, pointed toward her.

  Katie scrutinized the room and saw something else: a piece of baseboard cut away at the other end of the room near the TV. Another lens with a faint glow of red from the darkness surrounding it. Another one in the kitchen perched over the fridge like the one in the upstairs hallway. She hadn't noticed it before.

  Her bones went cold when she realized that not only did Earl not go on any business trip or anywhere at all, but that he was watching her every movement the whole time.

  Rat in a Cage

  "Sit down and read the book."

  Katie shook her head.

  "Read the book."

  "No," she sobbed. There was a pause and she looked around. "What do you want with me?"

  "Your name is Elizabeth," Earl said over the speaker.

  "Elizabeth?" Katie said incredulously. "I'm not! I don't know who that..." Her words choked in her throat, too overwhelmed by her panic to get them out. She waited in the living room, looking up at the speaker and around at the cameras that she could see, waiting for him to say something. Then she managed to get out the words, "Just let me go. Please."

  "I can't let you go," he said. "I let you go once already, and I... I won't be doing that again."

  Confusion came at her brain like daggers. What was he talking about? She couldn't even guess, nor would she be able to comprehend it right now even if she knew.

  "You have to," she spluttered. "I'll call the police..."

  And she would, just as soon as she found her cell phone...

  Her breath choked in her throat. Her mouth was dry and it felt like she tried to swallow a cinderblock. Now she realized why her cell phone had disappeared.

  She stumbled around the ground floor, looking for a phone. But there wasn't one; there never was—all by design.

  Now it didn't just feel like she was locked up in a prison; it felt like she was locked up in a prison at the bottom of the ocean. No one would be coming to look for her. No one would find her. She didn't even tell Josh she had gotten a house-sitting job, let alone where it was. She was totally alone.

  Silence came over the house and Earl ceased talking.

  Katie sank to the floor and cried for a long time. Partly from her predicament, but also from the knowledge and horror that Earl was watching her cry.

  Finally she picked herself back up, telling herself that she had to find a way out.
She heard how these horror stories went: a girl was never supposed to allow herself to be taken; if she was walking down the street and someone jumped her and tried to stuff her in a car or van, she was supposed to fight back with everything she had even if the attacker had a weapon, because once you let yourself get taken, there's no telling what will be done to you. Your window of escape shrinks until it disappears completely. She knew that, but Katie had never known that she got into the car willingly. Like tricking a cat into walking in a pet carrier on the way to the vet, the trap was already sprung.

  But Katie didn't know what Earl wanted with her. Things were going to get worse, she knew that. But if she could find a way out sooner rather than later, she might have a chance. She just needed to find a way out.

  She wiped the tears and snot away with her arm and got up. She still clutched the TV remote, knowing it was all she had. She walked down the hallway cautiously to the front door, keeping her back to the wall, wary of Earl jumping out of her from around a corner.

  She tried opening the door again, tried pulling on it with all her might, but it didn't budge. She moved into the sitting room next to the stairs and glanced around, but saw nothing but furniture and a few barred windows. She turned to the stairs and started up. Her hand on the banister, she stared deeply at the top of the stairs before she moved. She spotted more cameras as she went through the house, some hidden and some out in the open.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, she looked each way along the hallway. The house was quiet except for the thumping beat of her heart. Each doorway stood like a gateway to hell in some demonic fun house, each one hiding the secrets of what lay beyond, each one inviting her in, all the same.

  Katie stared at the camera perched up in the corner that had spied her coming out of the shower. Its red light glowed and she felt her stomach twist and wash over like a sea of acid. She checked the rooms one by one, careful as she crossed the thresholds and peered behind the doors. She peered in all the closets and under the beds from a safe distance, glanced over her shoulder frequently. She inspected all the windows. They all had bars fixed to the outside; they were all too thin to fit through and they were all secured.

  There has to be a way out, she told herself. Has to be. The little motivation that thought gave her was the only thing keeping her going. Otherwise her legs and her spirit would have already given out.

  She went up to the third floor, knowing Earl hadn't been in any other part of the house. Her heart beat as fast as a mouse's knowing he was somewhere up here waiting for her. She cautiously checked each room.

  Katie checked the rooms one by one. The silence hanging over the house was maddening. With every movement she made, she listened for the inevitable sound of the floor creaking behind her. A wave of panicked heat washed over her body when she checked every room except for one: Earl's bedroom.

  It stood at the end of the second hallway on the right. The door stood open a crack and Katie could only see a sliver of wall through it.

  Her feet felt like they were glued to the floor. She tried to move forward, but it was difficult. The floor groaned under her and echoed off the bare wooden walls. She stopped before the door and touched it. Creeping shadows hid behind and she watched it, watched to see if a knife would fly out and slash her hand, or if a hand would reach out and clamp down on her wrist. Katie pushed the door and it creaked open.

  The unpleasant bedroom lay before her. Light came in through the window and spilled onto the floor and bed. The same junk that had been there before was there again, untouched. The shadows of the room retreated as if her presence shied them away, and they regrouped in the closet and under the bed. She kept her back to the wall and peered in the dark closet. She stooped low to look under the bed in the dead silence. The closet was empty; so was underneath the bed. Earl wasn't here.

  Katie returned to the hallway and felt as if a heavy stone lay on her chest. Every window in the house was barred without exception. There was only one final hope: a door in the ceiling to the attic at the end of the hall.

  She approached and reached for the cord hanging from it.

  A set of stairs unfolded and a gust of warm air came down and greeted her. She stared at the dark square above as she clutched onto the stairs and ascended.

  Her eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness. When they did, she saw that the attic was empty except for a few boxes and an old roll of carpet. A soft red glow came from somewhere in the darkness that told her she was being watched, even up here. But wherever Earl was watching from, it wasn't here.

  Katie searched around the attic, a panic coming over her. She kept telling herself there was a way out, and now she was at the end of the line with still no prayer.

  But there was light coming in from the end of the attic. Squinting, she saw it was a small, round window. It was different from all the others.

  Katie rushed up to it. When she did, she saw it didn't open. Even if it did, three iron bars greeted her on the other side.

  "No..." Katie muttered. She turned her attention to the slanted wooden ceiling, pushing on the boards to see if they would give. They did not.

  Reality dawned on her: Earl had been planning this for a long time. If she thought she could outsmart him and find some little loophole in his design, she was dead wrong. And soon, she would just be dead.

  Window of Opportunity

  Katie came down from the attic just as she heard the muffled sound of a car door closing. She hurried along the hallway to the empty room at the front of the house. Out the window, the Volvo rolled down the driveway and disappeared from sight around a copse of trees.

  She had no idea where he had been in the house, but now he was gone. She knew she was still locked in; that didn't change. But for the moment, she was no longer being watched. That meant this could be her only chance to escape.

  Katie rushed down the stairs to the ground floor, then peered out the front window in the sitting room. She waited a minute, making sure that the car hadn't turned around and come back, and when she was sure he was gone, she tried the door.

  It was of course locked, and she twisted the knob hard and yanked on it with all her might. She pushed on it, throwing her shoulder into it, but it was solid, as was the frame and the lock. She ran to the kitchen and looked through the drawers and the cabinets for a paperclip or something thin enough that she could try picking the lock with. Never mind that it was a deadbolt and she'd heard you couldn't pick those; she was too frantic to think about such things. But she came up with nothing and was left to try brute force on the door.

  She twisted the doorknob and pulled on it, bracing a foot against the frame. She hopped up and managed to get her feet pressed against the frame on either side of the door as she used her weight and her strength to pull on it.

  The lock held.

  Next she tried kicking the door. She was five-foot-six and had a hundred and thirty pounds on her with no muscle to speak of, but she gave it her all, throwing kick after kick against the door right next to the knob.

  The door was so strong it didn't even reverberate. The only thing that did was the bones in her leg. When she set her leg back down on the floor, she felt a shooting pain rush up her shin. She cried out and sat down, massaging it and staring at the hulking slab of wood in front of her. Her mind raced. She didn't have much time. Her eyes fell on the hinges next.

  That was it! If she could just get the hinges off, she could take the door right off and get out to freedom before he came back. But she would need...

  A knife? she asked herself morosely. She didn't think a spoon would do it.

  The basement. If there was any kind of tool she could use to pry the pins up—maybe a crowbar or screwdriver or something—it would be in the basement.

  Katie hobbled over to the basement door, shaking the pain out of her leg. She flung the door open and flipped the light switch, descending down into the cold subterranean space.

  Light came in through the half window at the
top of the wall ahead of her. It did a good job in the daytime in lending some light to the musty space and making it seem not as dark and gloomy as before. But that same smell of rot, maybe old decaying wood, became more intense in the warmth of day.

  Katie's eyes scanned around the basement, looking for a tool. She skirted around the junk piled in the corners around her, pulling at and peering in boxes and rifling through plastic bags. But it was mostly old newspapers, old magazines, trinkets, useless stuff.

  She crept through the narrow space leading behind the stairs and found a workbench. When her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she saw that its surface was empty except for one solitary tool.

  She picked it up and she held it in the air. A rubber mallet.

  "You've got to be kidding me," she said.

  A mix of anger and fear and nausea filled her body. She didn't know whether to throw the mallet, cry, or vomit. Her legs became weak again, and a sweat broke out over her skin, knowing he would be back soon.

  A voice whispered behind her.

  Katie spun around, holding up the mallet.

  There was no one there.

  She listened, but only heard that hum from behind the chained door. She waited for a long moment and thought she heard something again, this time very faint. And it was coming from the door.

  Katie approached it cautiously. Her eyes fell on the heavy chains and the large padlock securing it. Her stomach was filled with a sense of dread the closer she got to it, like poison dripping into and spoiling a pool of water.

  The hum was loud now. She put a hand on the cold door and pressed her ear against it.