John was consumed by the darkness. He waved his hand around looking for the light’s pull string and heard something bounce down the stairs. Fear crept over him in an instant. He felt the dirty string hit against his hand and then swing away. Frantically, he let go of the sheet and reached out with both hands.
Like a stumbling blind man, John felt defenseless. The string hit him in the face and he nearly ripped it off, pulling as hard as he could. The single light bulb came to life and washed the room with a pale, yellow, glow. John spun around expecting something to lunge at him. He found Dr. Taylor’s remains lying open and still. John’s eyes ran the length of the stairs up toward the opening.
The blood touched each stair, but there was no sign of anything hunting him in the dark. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath. He stared at Dr. Taylor and realized what had happened. The doctor’s head was no longer attached. It lay on the cold dirt floor a few feet away. The remaining pieces of the neck had torn away as he pulled the body down the stairs and it rolled off by itself.
John decided not to spend any more time down in the cellar than he had to. He pushed the body up against the back wall and tossed the edges of the sheet over the top. He grabbed Dr. Taylor’s decapitated head and threw it in the general direction of the body, and then pulled the light string on his way to the stairs. He went back in the house and headed for the kitchen. The television was on, but Angela was missing. He peered down the hall and found the door to Alex’s room closed. He noticed the front door to the house was locked and dead bolted.
He reached the kitchen sink, turned on the hot water, and let it run. His hands were covered in blood. He reached under the sink and pulled out the bottle of extra strength cleaning gel he used for really tough stains. It took him a while, but he managed to get the blood off his skin and out from under his fingernails.
He wiped his hands dry and then pulled a beer from the fridge. He heard the sound of water running in the back of the house and headed to the hall with a beer in hand. John realized that the blood on the floor and in the hall was gone. He found a mop leaning against the wall near his bedroom door. The bucket of water beside it was stained crimson. He took a long drink from his beer and then proceeded to his bedroom.
He could tell the water was coming from the master bath. John stepped into his bedroom and found Angela’s clothes in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. He downed the rest of his beer and put the bottle on the nightstand. He peeked in through the bathroom door and saw Angela lying in the tub with her head back against the edge. Her eyes met his and she smiled. The anger was missing from her face. She looked relaxed as if everything in the world was okay.
“You looking for something,” she asked.
Angela bit her bottom lip in the way that drove John crazy. He pushed open the door and smiled back at her.
“Maybe,” he said.
“I’m so proud of you, baby.”
“How so?”
“You did it,” she said. “You really did it. You proved to me that you would do anything for your family.”
Angela’s voice was soft and inviting. John could sense the pride in her. His chest swelled. He hadn’t felt this from her for longer than he could remember.
“That’s all I ever wanted from you,” she said. “That’s all we ever wanted.”
She pulled one foot from underneath the water and laid it up on the edge of the bathtub. She gave him a look filled with desire. John walked to the tub and pushed off his boots with his feet. He looked down at his clothes and the amount of blood startled him.
“Don’t,” she said, then threw her other leg up on the far side of the tub, exposing herself. “Just get in here.”
The moment John pulled his stare away from the blood, the horror was gone. He looked into Angela’s eyes and forgot about everything else. He took a hold of her hand and stepped in the warm water. Angela pulled him down on top of her, and with the slightest ease, made him forget about all his troubles.
7
John lay in bed listening to the sound of his heart. He couldn’t sleep. The last time he looked, the clock on the nightstand read 3:42 am. His eyes started burning half an hour ago, but he knew it didn’t matter. Moonlight cascaded in through the bedroom window and lit up the opposite wall. He watched the open doorway until his mind played tricks on him. He’d seen movement in the hall several times, but he knew nothing was really there.
He turned his head and looked at Angela. She was sleeping soundly beside him as she had been since the moment her head hit the pillow. He watched her chest rise in slow, perfect rhythm. He thought she looked peaceful.
They’d made love for the first time in over a year. From the moment he’d stepped in the bath, John saw the side of Angela he fell in love with. Everything felt right and he didn’t want to ruin it. He would have to quiet the nagging thoughts dancing in his head.
He decided that he’d been in the bed long enough, and slowly moved Angela’s hand from his chest and slid out from under the covers. The wood floor was cold against his feet. He found his slippers under the bed, threw on his robe, and headed down the hall. His heart beat loud in his ears as he neared Alex’s room. Only a foot away, he paused and the silence brought a smile to his face. He pictured his boy sleeping soundly as he headed for the living room.
John went into the kitchen and eyed the canisters atop the refrigerator. He reached up and fished his hand around until he found what he was looking for. From a hidden spot behind the flower container, appeared a half empty pack of cigarettes. John looked in the torn opening in the top of the pack and found the small lighter.
He went to the back door and did his best to open it quietly. Once out back, he got far enough away from the house to be safe and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it and took a long, slow drag. The feeling was euphoric. John had officially quit smoking three months ago. Since then, he’d kept the habit down to breaks at work and the occasional late night slip in the backyard. Angela hated smoking and threatened to leave him if he didn’t give it up. He figured under the circumstances, he could smoke all he wanted.
He stood looking out across the back of the property. Moonlight illuminated the tree line in the distance. Angela said she’d found Alex back there covered in the black ooze. John considered walking out there, but decided against it. If he was going to have a look, he thought it best to wait until sunrise. He took another long drag and held the smoke in his lungs. There was a silence all around him as the wind died away. It was then that he heard a light clicking sound from behind him. He turned and looked at the back door expecting to see it slowly moving, but found it shut.
He approached the door tentatively, noticing the sound had stopped. John was a foot from the rear of the house when it started again, and then stopped. He was sure it was coming from the edge of the house and he kept close to the wall as he walked. The sound started again, this time at a slow rhythmic pace. The closer John came to the edge of the house, the more he recognized the sound. At the mid-way point, he stopped, peering further down the rear of the house at the lone window on the corner.
The light from the end of his cigarette lit up a small portion of his face as he took a drag. He leaned out from the back of the house to sneak a look at the widow. Shadows kept the moonlight away, swallowing the area in darkness. The tapping continued.
John took one last puff of his cigarette and then flicked it out in the grass. His eyes stayed locked on the edge of the window but he didn’t move any closer. The tapping grew louder as he took a step forward. There was a new sound joining in with the first. Low, but constant, there was a rising hum. Another step and John was close enough to touch the windowsill. He steadied himself and then moved out in front of the glass. He saw a hand first, the blackened fingers tapping along the glass in search of freedom. He leaned in and Alex’s face slammed against the window, a moan erupted from his mouth as he tried to get a hold of his father.
John felt his heart stop as he leapt back. He came
down awkward on his foot, twisting his ankle. He landed on his back with a painful thud, his elbows sinking in the mud. All the while, Alex’s dark figure pounded on the glass trying to get out. Terrified, John rolled on to his hands and knees. He sloshed through the grass, working his way toward the backdoor. He was sure the glass would give way and Alex would get out into the yard. John gasped for breath as he reached the back door. A sudden awareness of silence held him still. The pounding and deathly moan stopped. Alex was out of sight and all that remained, was a light tapping of a child’s fingers against the window.
#
Angela shot up in bed as the pounding started. The sunlight from the bedroom window caused her eyes to slam shut. It took her a few seconds to wake herself up. She squinted as her eyes adjusted, and then she realized the pounding stopped. She tried to get her bearings. It was obvious John was already up. She slid on her slippers and looked out the window. She smiled as she stretched, interested in figuring out what her husband was up to.
A sudden jolt ran up her back as the pounding returned. She spun around and focused on Alex’s door. From her position at the window, she could only see the doorknob. She watched the door as the pounding continued. The noise stopped and she realized she was holding her breath. Fear raced through her mind when she considered what John might have done. Her heart beat faster as she walked toward Alex’s room. The pounding started again as she reached for the doorknob and hesitated.
The pounding stopped and she put her ear up against the cold wood. There was nothing but silence, then she picked out the sounds of something shuffling across the floor. The sounds drew near. The pounding started again and as she pulled away, something hit hard against the inside of the door. She screamed and backed away, her heart in her throat.
“Angela.”
She heard John call her name from the rear of the house.
“Angela, is that you?”
She moved down the hall and into the living room. She pulled open the back door and stepped outside. John stood at the edge of the house near a stack of old, wood, two by fours. He had his hammer in one hand and few nails in the other. He’d already hammered three pieces of wood over Alex’s window.
“I thought I’d better cover this up,” he said.
He smiled at her and went back to work. He hoisted another board in place and began pounding away. Angela watched him work. He had his shirt off and she leered at his bare chest as it glistened in the morning sun. When the work was done, she made him something to eat and they sat down at the dining table. John ate his sandwich in four giant bites. Angela watched him with a smile painted on her face. She wanted something from him, but was waiting for the right time to ask. John didn’t give in. He ate his chips in silence, washed it all down, and then picked up after himself.
“You know…” Angela said after waiting as long as she could. “Alex seems to be moving around much better.”
John didn’t respond. She hadn’t got to the point yet. She used this tactic most of the time.
“It’s like he got his strength back, you know,” she said.
“I’d say so.” John headed for the couch. “He scared the hell out of me this morning.”
“How so?”
“I was out back and he came at that window,” he said.
“Why were you out back?” she asked, sitting down next to him.
John shuddered then changed the subject. “What are you getting at?” he asked.
“Well-”
Angela was interrupted by a phone ring. John looked at the kitchen with a confused expression. It was as if he’d forgotten there were other people in the world besides her and him. He made it to the kitchen by the fourth ring, picked up the receiver, and in an unsteady voice, he spoke.
“Hello.”
John held silent for a moment. Angela could see him standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shoulders stiffening as a high-pitched voice came over the phone.
“Oh, hi, Penny.”
Angela’s eyes narrowed. Penny was Doctor Taylor’s assistant.
“No, no we haven’t seen the doctor.”
Angela got up off the couch and walked closer. She leaned in toward John to listen.
“Well, that’s strange,” Penny said. “I haven’t heard from him, so I came in his office for a look. The only thing I found was a scribbled note with your name on it.”
John didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Oh yea.” His voice went in and out as he spoke. He cleared his throat. “I called him last night, I completely forgot.”
Angela grabbed a firm hold of the back of his arm. He tried to pull away from her, but couldn’t. She glared at him, but he couldn’t see her face.
“So you did talk with him then?” Penny asked.
“Yes, I called to tell him how Alex was doing.”
Penny was quiet long enough for it to be uncomfortable.
“Doctor Taylor asked us to check in with him from time to time,” John said.
“Yea…” Penny hesitated. “I guess that sounds like Dr. Taylor. He didn’t come over for a visit?”
“No,” John said.
There was a long pause as Penny waited for more. Angela wanted him to get off the phone. She hoped Penny would give up and let him off the hook. Penny finally spoke up.
“So how is Alex?”
“Alex?” John’s mind seemed to go blank.
Angela tightened her grip on the back of his arm and he snatched it away.
“Alex’s doing better.” John stepped into the kitchen to get away from Angela. When he turned around, she was leaning against the entrance smiling at him. She tilted her head to the side and pouted, waving him back to her. “Yes, much better,” he said, then shook his head at her.
Penny’s voice was loud enough so Angela could still hear her. “Oh that’s great to hear. I know Dr. Taylor was really worried. You know it’s not like him to miss a day at the office without calling in.”
John swore under his breath and then mouthed to Angela that he forgot to call into work. “Yea that is strange, but I have to go, Penny,” he said. “Thanks for calling.”
Penny was still talking when he hung up the phone.
“Well that was rude,” Angela said.
“I have to get to work,” he said. He tried to push past her, but she didn’t budge. “Baby, I have to go.” He checked his watch. “I’m already going to be late.”
Angela put an arm around his neck and pulled herself toward him. She made him put his arms around her waist. “Are you trying to get away from us?” Her question was playful enough, but she wanted an answer.
“No, of course not.”
She looked at him seductively and then kissed him. She put her hand on the back of his head and held his lips to hers for a long time. “I didn’t get to finish what I was saying,” she said when she finally let him go.
“Can’t it wait?” John asked, then checked his watch again.
She wasn’t going to let him go until she got out what she wanted to say. “I’m so happy to have our family back together,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do if we lost our boy.” John’s eyes squinted and she knew he understood what she was saying. “You’re the provider of this family.”
“Yes, and that’s why I have to get to work,” he said. “I have to…”
Angela’s expression hardened and it caused him to stop.
“Alex got better because of Doctor Taylor,” she said.
John slowly nodded. “I know.”
“Alex had to have it,” she said. Her words were haunting in their simplicity. A sound emanated from the hall before she could continue. Underneath Alex’s door at the end of the hall, the remaining lines of light from his boarded window highlighted the shadow of his feet. “John.” He looked back at her and she made her demands crystal clear. “He has to eat.”
8
Angela loved the red dress. She’d bought it for her and John’s first anniversary. It made her feel sexy,
maybe even a little easy. John loved the red dress too. He strictly forbade her from leaving the house when she put it on. She caressed his ego and he gave in; there wasn’t anything Angela couldn’t get him to do with a little caressing. Her heels were high and she wore her lipstick thick.
Eight o’clock came around and she was ready to go. She ensured John one last time that they were making the right decision. With a harsh glare, he agreed and gave the truck keys to her. He watched her leave and wouldn’t be able to get the picture out of his mind for hours.
Finally alone, Angela found a radio station she liked, turned the volume as loud as it would go, and drove off. She didn’t think about what she was doing, at least not in the form of right or wrong. She was a mother and she would do whatever it took to take care of her son. Ashville was forty-two miles from the Mason family home. It was what counted for a big city to the people in the heart of Kansas. Angela spent many Friday nights of her youth either trying to get into a bar on Williams Street, or getting tossed out of one. The Dusty Bottom was a particular favorite of hers, and when she finally pulled into the parking lot, she was ready.
The lot was packed thick with trucks. The particular type of men who frequented the watering hole was partial to big trucks, leather boots, and cowboy hats. Most of these men weren’t what you would consider Rhodes Scholars, and that was precisely what Angela was looking for. Her dress drew plenty of attention and by the time she reached the entrance, there was a small pack of men following. She pretended not to notice the on lookers as she headed for the bouncer. He eyed her up and down, smiling, and then offered a nod of his hat before he let her cut to the front of the line.
Angela reached the bar and picked out three potential candidates, based mostly on ease and relative looks of stupidity. The music was loud and made it impossible to hear anything lower than a yell. She found a spot at the bar, leaned up against the sticky wooden surface, and waited. It took less than two minutes before the first man strolled up to her. He hadn’t been in her initial count, but from the look of him, he should’ve been. He leaned against the bar and a rush of Stetson cologne and sweat engulfed her. She recognized his face, but couldn’t place the name, lucky for her, he was more than willing to fill in the blanks.
The Hand That Feeds: A Horror Novel Page 5