by Brett McKay
“That might pinch them a little.” Rosco chuckled. “But wait ’til I pump this twenty times. It’ll do more’n bite ’em a little. It’ll puncture skin.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll be busting their kneecaps with this.” Gary swung his bat.
“All right, bad boys, we each have a dangerous weapon, but we can’t be stupid about it. We don’t want to run into them. We don’t want to use these things. Just get the girl and get out. That’s it.”
They all nodded agreement.
“When are the girls comin’?” Rosco asked.
“They’re sleeping over at Dawn’s, and they’ll meet us here at two.”
“We’d better get some sleep before then,” Gary said.
We clambered into the tent and crawled into our sleeping bags. Rosco was sawing logs minutes later, but the rest of us couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop the jitters or get my mind to shut up long enough to catch any z’s.
I exited the tent around one fifteen and stood next to it, staring at the Crooked House. Only the upstairs light was on.
Gary came out and stood next to me. “We’re really going to do this?”
“Yes,” I said. “We have to. As scared as I am, I can’t help but think how more scared she is. If she can go through unimaginable terror alone, then we can together.”
We heard footsteps behind us and turned to see Dawn entering my yard, alone.
“Dawn?” I whispered and walked over to her. “Where’s Morg?”
“Her mom wouldn’t let her sleep over. I had to sneak out of the house after everyone went to sleep.”
“Won’t you get in trouble?” Gary asked.
“If I do, I do. This is too important.”
I saw an aluminum bat dangling in her right hand. “I see you brought a weapon.”
“Good choice,” Gary remarked.
At one thirty, we caught the break of a lifetime. The last light went out, then Beaumont and Lester exited the house. They got into the hearse and drove away.
I ran into the tent and shook Rosco awake. “Come on!” I whispered as loudly as I dared to. “We gotta go! They just left the house!”
We marched our way to my back fence that bordered the field, weapons at hand. Rosco’s hair stuck out in several different directions. We hopped the chain-link fence and stomped through the field of tall brush toward the house.
It waited for us, pretending to be asleep to lure us in. If a house could grin, the Crooked House would have. The moon was bright and helped illuminate the house and our path.
We stopped short of the porch, and everyone looked at me for a decision.
“Let’s go around to the back door,” I whispered, crouched low, and we scurried around the house.
I stopped at the car covered with the tarp first.
“What are you doing?” Gary whispered.
“Someone ran Todd Harrison off the road. That’s how he was killed. Whoever did it owns a black car, and it should have damage.”
Rosco set his gun down and helped me peel the tarp back over the hood.
“Holy shit.” Rosco stared at the passenger-side fender, and I ran to look.
I crouched to inspect the line of scratches and dents that marked up the side of the car, and several of the lines were red.
“Todd Harrison’s car was red.” I tapped the red paint, and both Gary and Jax gasped; Dawn put a hand to her open mouth.
We quickly covered the car again and crept to the back door.
“Who wants to stay outside and keep watch?” I asked, and everyone turned to Dawn.
“Not me. I’m going in,” she insisted, and no one argued.
“I’ll stay,” Gary said.
“Whistle if you see anyone coming.”
“I can’t whistle.”
“How ’bout a bird sound?” Rosco offered.
“Hoot-hoot?”
“What the hell’s that?” Jax exclaimed.
“It’s an owl.”
Jax rolled his eyes.
I hopped over the two steps to the back door and tried the knob as quietly and slowly as I could. It was unlocked, and I pushed open the door. Darkness and a breath of dank mustiness greeted me. I froze at the entrance.
“You ready?” Rosco whispered, wearing a huge mischievous grin. It gave me confidence.
Behind him, Dawn and Jax stood ready to go.
I stepped in. The floorboards creaked and echoed. I turned on my flashlight but kept the beam low to the floor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, which was extraordinary. It looked the same as it had before, and yet someone was living there. I expected some furniture, pictures on the walls, or something by now. There wasn’t even a dining table.
I stepped into the kitchen on my left and finally found signs of a tenant. On the counter sat a bowl, with a spoon cradled in it, next to an opened box of Cap’n Crunch. On the floor was a Styrofoam cooler filled with half-melted ice, a carton of milk, and two cans of Coke.
The house was quiet. No movement but ours.
“Andrea,” I called out in a loud whisper. Nothing. “Andrea!” It came out louder the next time. I just wanted to find the girl and get the hell out of there.
My flashlight beam landed on a door in the kitchen. “Where do you think that goes?”
“The basement. I’m not going down there,” Jax said.
I thought of the newspaper clipping. The killer had kept his dead victims in the basement. It sent chills up my spine.
Dawn stepped next to me, and we moved on through the dining room, the front living room, and the parlor. There was nothing but the same old furniture, shrouded with years of dust and cobwebs. No sign of Andrea or the ghost.
My legs shook with every step, and I knew everyone else’s did too. Each time I caught their eyes in the light, I saw nothing but terror.
She wasn’t on the ground floor. Basement popped in my head, but like Jax, I was scared to go there.
“Let’s check upstairs,” Dawn said, and I was relieved to go up instead of down. The boards of the stairs felt ready to bust at any moment, and they creaked and whined under our weight.
“What if she’s here?” Jax asked.
“She is here. We’re trying to find her,” I answered.
“No. I mean...”
“Mathilda?” I said. “The ghost?”
“Yes.” His voice trembled.
“If she is, she won’t hurt you... I think.”
“You think?” Jax asked.
We crested the stairs and checked the room we’d slept in weeks ago. It was empty, just like we’d left it. We continued down the hall, and I couldn’t help but notice the invisible ghosts that cloaked every wall, door, and piece of furniture. There was life in the house, a dark one that reflected the lives of everyone who had lived—and died—there. It was all there, seeping through the wood and plaster, begging us to unravel the mysteries.
At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. We found the first evidence of life since leaving the kitchen. The bed was undone, and clothes were strewn about among piles of garbage from take-out food. The clothes, in a variety of colors, stood out against the gray background of the house’s dusty interior. They belonged to Lester Kilborn.
We checked the closets, bathrooms, and under beds. No sign of Andrea.
“Where do you think she’d be?” Rosco asked.
“She’s not here.” Jax turned to me. “Maybe you were wrong.”
Dawn looked at me with the same bewilderment we all shared.
“Where would she be?” Dawn asked.
Basement.
“Could the ghost be trying to tell you something else? Maybe she really knows where Andrea is, but you got it wrong,” Dawn suggested.
I was confused and frustrated. “She has to be here,” I insisted.
“We didn’t check the basement,” Rosco said.
“You’re right.” I was hesitant to go, fearful the basement was the right place, scared of what I might find. I wasn’t ready.
<
br /> “We’ll go together,” Rosco said with a steel gaze and a firm nod.
Dawn put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“Yes, we’ll go together,” I agreed.
I led the others from the bedroom and froze. The others bumbled into me.
“What the...” Jax started, then he saw what I saw.
At the far end of the hall, on the other side of the stairway, stood the tall, dark shape of a man. The hall was too dark to make out his expression, but he was facing up, and there was no doubt he saw us. His arms were at his sides, hands curled into tight claws, and I heard his breathing. It was soft, rhythmic, and slow.
We didn’t move, and neither did he.
Beaumont and Lester were gone, and this was not Andrea. I hadn’t seen anyone else with them before. Who is he?
My stomach curdled, and the chills up my arms and spine told me he was an enemy. Mouth like cotton, I couldn’t speak or move.
A light caught the corner of my eye. I turned slowly to look out the window above the front door, where a pair of headlights approached. Beaumont and Lester. The lights bounced once as the car dipped into a rut and came out.
“Hoot! Hoot!” Gary sounded desperate at the back door.
The headlights illuminated the dark man’s right eye. It was wild and crazed, like a rabid dog’s. He was about to pounce on us violently. I clutched the knife in one hand and flashlight in the other.
“I’m going to stall him... you guys run,” I whispered to my friends.
They didn’t have time to argue. I charged the dark form ahead of me with a loud war cry. “Ahhh!”
I ran into him like a rhino square into his stomach, with my fists outstretched, but knife pointed down. I wasn’t prepared to strike with my knife unless I absolutely had to.
Breath escaped his mouth like air from a balloon. I’d caught him off guard, and he stumbled back. Luck was on my side. He tripped over something on the floor behind him, and arms flailing, he slammed to the floor.
My friends stormed down the stairs. My momentum almost toppled me, but I steadied myself, turned for the steps, and ran. I didn’t look back or listen for him. It took him a few seconds to readjust before he charged after us.
I took the staircase in three strides, landed, turned, and tore off toward the kitchen. The dark man thumped down the stairs.
My friends ran out the back door. Dawn was the last. She turned to make sure I was all right.
“Go!” I yelled, and before Dawn exited, she saw me open the door to the basement and enter.
I shut the door behind me. In complete darkness, I heard Dawn’s muffled cry, “Ret!”
“Just go, Dawn. Please go!” I mumbled, and she did.
The Dark Man’s footsteps pounded on the floor on the other side of the basement door. They halted. I heard his heavy breathing. His feet shuffled then stopped. He waited by the door like a sentry. Moments later, the front door opened, and more footsteps creaked the floor then halted.
“Look, Lester, he’s up. Moving around.” Beaumont’s voice sounded muffled through the door.
“Hmm, looks like shit.” Lester chuckled. “Not used to the air yet?”
The men were silent.
I began to second-guess going into the basement when I had a clear escape available. I may have caused my own death by doing so, but I had a responsibility, and my conscience wouldn’t have it any other way. My hand had reached out and opened the door, and I’d followed. I had to find Andrea.
I moved my right foot to the next step, and it let out a small squeak. I grimaced and froze. The air was too quiet. No one made a sound.
A second later, they began walking around, making creaking sounds of their own and talking. They hadn’t heard me, and they were loud and moving around. I saw my chance to take the stairs without alerting them.
I tiptoed down the staircase. I tried to hear their conversation, but I only caught pieces.
“We better move quickly. Before she starts to decompose,” Lester said, and the words didn’t register in my mind right away. I was too busy sneaking down the stairs quickly and quietly, bent on finding Andrea. Cobwebs caught my face and arms, and like a madman swatting at invisible bees, I pulled as many off me as I could.
There was a soft glow around the corner of the stairwell. I approached the dancing blue light and found a large circle in the floor lined with bricks. Blue light emanated from the water inside the circle, though I saw no light bulb.
I recalled the well that Mr. Dunlap had told me about—Henry Stockholm had built a well to contain the water seeping into the basement. But instead of being far below, the surface of the water was more like a small pool in the floor, like the reflecting pools Egyptians decorated their temples with. The glowing blue light within danced eerily.
A rumpled form lay in front of the pool. I stepped closer, and the figure’s blue dress caught the glow from the water. Lying on her side, with her back to me, she didn’t move.
“Andrea,” I said softly, my heart in my throat.
Her dress was torn, and I was sure that if I pulled out my piece of blue silk, it would fit perfectly into the empty spot.
“Andrea?” I said again, on the verge of tears. It was what I feared the most. She didn’t move. I heard no breathing. I touched her arm, and it was ice-cold. I turned her slightly, not wanting to see her face, but knowing I had to.
Her eyes were closed, fortunately, and her face was a mottled mix of blue and white. Dark blood caked the side of her face from scalp to chin, long strings of hair were plastered across her cheeks, and her mouth hung open. The glow illuminated her. I knew I would never forget her face. It was imprinted in my memory during that horrible moment.
She was gone. Her shell was left behind. Sobs came; I couldn’t control them. I’d known Andrea only in passing, but seeing another corpse—especially a kid, like me—was horrifying. As I looked at her body, a reoccurring feeling set in. One I’d felt at each funeral and viewing I’d attended. A person I knew was there no more. Her body was there, but Andrea was somewhere else. In a better place. One of comfort and love. She wasn’t in pain or fear anymore, and that gave me peace.
Then the door at the top of the stairs squeaked, and a slice of light split the darkness. They were coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fear from Beyond
Frantic, I searched for a hiding spot and found one across the room, behind a stack of boxes, an old tricycle, a playhouse, an ancient stroller, and some toys. I crouched behind them, clutching my knife, and watched as Beaumont and Lester ambled down the staircase.
They stopped at Andrea’s body.
“She’s so young,” Lester said. “Is this going to work with her?”
I watched through slats between the playhouse and boxes. I didn’t see the man I’d knocked over, and I wondered where he was. Then I heard several creaks above me and realized the Dark Man had stayed upstairs.
“I’ve never tried it with a child. Her frame may not be strong enough. I told you to get an older teenager or someone in their early twenties.”
“I’m sorry. I thought she was sixteen or seventeen at least. She looked older.”
Andrea was tall for her age, but judging by the expression on Beaumont’s face, he didn’t buy it.
“Come on. Help me with her,” he commanded, and I watched them pick her up on opposite sides like a sack of flour, shuffle to the pool, and set her on top of the water.
I expected her to sink, assuming they were disposing of her body in the pool, but instead, her body lay still on top of the moving water as if the surface were made of concrete. Her lifeless arms and legs swayed up and down with the motion of the water. The blue glow of the pool illuminated Beaumont’s and Lester’s faces in a grisly manner. Eyes wide, they watched.
“Come forth, my friend,” Beaumont spoke to the water. Then he began to speak in a strange tongue, and the tone of his voice was deep and unearthly.
I stared at Andrea’s body with them. It re
mained still, shifting with the tiny waves. He chanted more, then her eyes flew open!
Every nerve in my body exploded, and I gasped for air, fighting back a panic attack. If they hear me, I’m dead.
“Rise, my friend.” Beaumont smirked.
She coughed and gurgled, and her body sputtered. Gasping, she struggled to lift her head, then shook it violently back and forth.
“He’s not used to our air. This body is new to him. Help him up,” Beaumont said, and they both took an arm and helped her step out of the water.
I wondered why he’d referred to Andrea as “he” and how her body was new to “him.” He’d brought Andrea’s body back to life, but it wasn’t Andrea.
Then it hit me. The same thing had happened with Beaumont. He’d gone missing for days then come back as someone completely different. I wondered if his tall, lanky body had once rested on that water and brought in a soul from another world.
They set Andrea’s feet on the floor, but her legs were like cooked spaghetti. She wobbled, tripped, and fell. She still gasped for air, then seemed to find it, because once she did, she howled like a banshee. The shrill scream ripped up my spine with icy nails.
She flailed about like a rag doll with a ghastly face and panicked, wide eyes. She clawed the air aimlessly, gagged, and coughed out black sludge.
I could only stare in ultimate horror. She fell and crawled along the floor, moaning a deep, rattling, painful groan. Beaumont and Lester laughed at her as if she were a carnival freak.
“I told you her frame was too weak,” Beaumont said.
“It’s going to be a while before she finds her legs.” Lester chuckled, and Beaumont scowled at him.
“It is not a she. He is one of my trusted friends. We escaped prison together. It’s because of him I’m here. If this body fails, which I think it will, I’ll send him back, and we’ll find a new body for him. One closer to his age. A male would be more fitting.”
Lester sighed, rolling his eyes, and his shoulders sank. “Do you know how hard it is to get a man? The last one was hell. I twisted my ankle, still have bruises, and I’m sure one of my ribs is broken.”