Evil Heights, Book I: The Midnight Flyer

by Michael Swanson

  "Alright!” Lee spat after getting one right across the lips. “Enough!” He got to his feet and kicked the last shoe off without even untying the laces. He held the screen door's handle and looked back at Flapjack. “You're so all fired up,” he warned, “I'll have to send Patty out to play with you. How'd you like a big squeezing, huh, boy?"

  As though the duck had understood, Flapjack pulled back in his wings, ruffling the feathers and stepped back. With that wide-eyed look on his silly duck face he actually looked worried. For the first time all day Lee had a good laugh.

  "Take your filthy shoes off before you come inside,” Maggie yelled from the kitchen when she heard the laundry room screen door slam.

  "I already did!” Lee called out tiredly from the washroom.

  Flapjack, left outside, had discovered the muddy shoes left sitting out on the stoop, and was working hard at trying to get an entire shoelace down his beak.

  "Just take your dirty stuff off right there and leave it all on the washer,” she called out to him again. “I'm going to do laundry later. The hamper in the bathroom's full."

  "Mmmm, fried chicken,” Lee smelled, immediately salivating from the crisp aroma coming from the kitchen. “Naw, Maggie. I don't have anything to wear,” he yelled back.

  "Just run around to the bathroom and get your shower. You'll be in your underwear for heavens sake!"

  "Aww, Mom!” he called back. “I'm not that dirty!"

  "I'm not going to have you wearing those filthy clothes and dropping dirt across my clean floors. I just mopped and buffed today. Do as you're told. You hear me?"

  Grudgingly, Lee stripped off his shirt and then his jeans. He piled up the stuff on the washer. His clothes were a mess, caked with dried mud and clay, and his shirt and the waist of his jeans were still soaking wet. Just before he was about to leave the laundry room he remembered the glass eye and quickly fished around in the left pocket of his blue jeans to find it. It wasn't there, so hurriedly he checked the other pockets. Nothing. For a moment he was afraid he'd somehow lost it, but then checked the first pocket again. Patting the denim, there was a lump there. On the second check there it was stuck down in the very corner along with a wad of lint. Plucking it out, and then holding it all balled up in his fist, he stepped up to the doorway and looked over to the den. “Don't y'all look!” he called out.

  "I'll look!” a delighted Patty screamed.

  Lee ran, knowing he only had seconds before Patty could get up from in front of the T.V.. Slipping, and his feet squeaking as he hit the freshly polished hardwood floor, he caught a glimpse of Maggie standing in the kitchen doorway with a spatula in her hand grinning at him.

  Rushing past the dining room table, Lee made for the hall.

  The last thing Lee heard as he closed the bathroom door was a voice from back up the hall. “I saw London; I saw France; I saw Lee's old underpants!"

  "Cut it out, Patty!” he yelled back through the door.

  "Nanna nanna boo boo!” she sang out.

  "Sometimes I could just...” he didn't finish the thought. Lee was standing at the sink, catching his breath after his frantic sprint. Putting the eye in the soap dish for a moment he peeled off his sweat soaked briefs and kicked them into the pile of dirty clothes, which had overflowed from the hamper standing in the corner between the tub and the toilet. As an after thought, he reached over and flipped the lock latch below the door handle.

  Standing back at the sink he looked at himself in the mirror. A blister red face smeared with dried mud and more than a few rose thorn scratches, stared back at him. He couldn't believe it; he reached up and brushed his hand across his head; he even had dirt in his hair. Looking away from the mirror, Lee carefully retrieved the glass eye from the soap dish, and turning on the cold water, placed it under the tap. He was glad he'd remembered to retrieve it from his jeans. Things had a way of disappearing in the wash.

  Holding it up, Lee squeezed out a daub of toothpaste, and using Patty's toothbrush, in revenge for her spying, he began to polish up the eye. The more he scrubbed, the more it shown back at him, the golden sparkles inset into the green iris seeming to shine and twinkle. Hearing only the wash of the water flowing from the spout he worked at the dirt, lathering it up, rinsing it, and then lathering it up again. Lee was careful to hold the eye as tightly as he could, as he was afraid if it slipped it out of his fingers it might pass through the catch at the drain. It was careful work as the more he scrubbed the more slippery it became. When he thought it was as clean as he could get it, he rinsed it off one last time then held it up. The toothbrush had done a good job, but the little piece of porcelain would never be white-white. It seemed as if just under the glossy surface it had a dull, yellowish cast. For some reason the word, “Smoker's tooth” he'd heard in a toothpaste commercial flashed into his mind.

  With the aid of the light provided by the white, formed globe above the medicine cabinet he hoped to be able to see down into the dark center of the iris. He felt almost compelled to find out what was down in there. Was it hollow? He just had to know. Turning the eye, and holding it carefully so it wouldn't slip, Lee tried to get the angle just right attempting to see all the way down in. It was tantalizing. He could just almost make it out; it was black black, yet didn't appear to be filled with anything. But, then again, if it truly was hollow he couldn't quite tell. The eye was heavy though, and so it didn't feel hollow. He doubted it was. The glass just below the round surface of the center opening of the iris wasn't entirely clear; it was a little smoky, and there were slivers of something down in there that flashed and sparkled like the small facets on edges of Maggie's wedding ring. He could almost make out the bottom, but not quite. He was so intent on seeing he didn't even notice the change, similar to one of those peculiar visual effects from a clever geometric drawing, the kind that suddenly switches perspectives drawing in or out. But, around him, the world dropped away, the darkness in the deep center tugging him in.

  "That damn Patty,” he heard.

  His fingers gripped the eye more tightly. It felt good to squeeze.

  "You know she's always telling on you, trying to get you into trouble.” The words rang out inside his head, but the voice wasn't his own. “You know they like her better than you, and she's only half your sister."

  A sudden bloom of red anger was growing. He could see something down in there, amongst the glitter and the darkness; it was like Patty's teasing face laughing up at him out of the obscurity of the center of the eye. “I see London; I see France...” he could hear it; sing songy, childish, irritating. She wanted him to get mad. If that's what she wanted, she'd got it.

  He was squeezing, his fingers beginning to shake. Cast back in the mirror was the reflection of a boy, well muscled for his age, a circle of brown from the sun burned on his chest from the opening at the neck of his shirt. His body, sweaty and dirty, his fingers and hands scratched and red in so many places, he had the eye just inches from his own two real eyes intent and piercingly unaware. Something was in there. He saw it, or he thought for a moment he saw something. It was all so black, so cool. Down deep, inside, it was so still, so very still. Then he saw himself. There was the toilet and the laundry basket, the mirror, his own image in the reflection, the water still running from the tap. He could see the entire bathroom, the dirty clothes on the floor, even the door with its antique glass doorknob. Suddenly, it was a spider's eye view, in wide angle, from high up in one of the corners jammed into the wall and the ceiling. He was looking down on himself, still looking into the eye, yet all he could see was himself, his elbows on the edge of the sink, bending down, looking. Something wasn't right. There was someone in the tub. The shower curtain had been ripped down, though it wasn't the same curtain as when he'd come in; it was different, older. There was somebody in the tub. It was an old man, naked, his skin was pasty gray, his lips were blue, and the wide open eyes, down under the water were cast over, clouded and dead. The corpse was lying in the tub, still gripping the shower curtai
n in the clenched right hand. The rings that had held it to the rod above were scattered all over, torn from the curtain's fabric. Water running from the spout had filled all the way up, and the body bobbed as the water flowed over the rim and down onto the floor. A voice was calling out; he could hear it through the door. “Daddy ... daddy ... you all right? Water's coming out from under the door. Daddy!” It sounded almost like Maggie; but it wasn't quite the same voice he was accustomed to.

  He was squeezing so hard, the slippery eye popped out of his fingers and fell into the sink, careening around the sides like a marble in a roulette wheel. Frantically, Lee followed it, round and round, only just scooping it up before it disappeared down the drain.

  "Lee!” Maggie was pounding at the door. “What's going on in there?"

  He had the eye. He looked over to see the glass doorknob turn. The door came open. Then Maggie was standing right there. Lee froze.

  "What in God's name?” she yelled stepping in. She had a spatula in one hand.

  Momentarily, Lee couldn't think. He had the eye, though. He'd saved it. What about the shower, the water? Looking quickly, there wasn't any body; the shower curtain was pushed back. The tub was dry. He looked back to Maggie.

  She was staring right at him, that stupid spatula in her right hand.

  All he knew was he had the eye; it was still so hard and round in his fingers. Strangely, he was also aware he could feel the pattern of the tiny hexagonal, bee hive tiles of the floor under his toes. He was also aware he could still smell something lingering, sharp and old fashioned, like some kind of men's after-shave, but he couldn't immediately place the smell or where it might have come from.

  Maggie took a step in towards him. “What's the matter with you?” Changing hands with the spatula she reached past him and turned off the water at the sink.

  He moved back as she faced him down, still a bit foggy. “The door was locked,” ran through his mind. He could only stare at her wondering, “What's she doing in here?” Then it hit him, that smell. He actually said the name out loud, “Aqua Velva."

  Maggie stood back. “Lee?” They were locked eye to eye. “Lee? Whoo-hoo!” She waved the spatula as an attention getter. “Lee? Are you all right? What do you mean, Aqua Velva?"

  He didn't know what she was talking about, Aqua Velva? He was so confused. But, he stood his ground, gripping the edge of the sink with his right hand and the eye all balled up in his left. It seemed some time passed, and neither said another word. Then he couldn't miss it when Maggie's eyes dropped.

  At that moment everything came back. He wasn't startled or confused. He was in the bathroom, naked.

  "Maggie!” Lee yelled.

  In that same instant, when he realized he was just stupidly standing there. Lee tried to jump behind the sink, as best he could. There wasn't much room and he tried to cower down, but it didn't do much good. Holding both hands between his legs to cover himself, he looked up pleadingly.

  Maggie gave him her perturbed look, her lips drawing for but a moment into a line.

  "What's going on in here? You've had that water running for ten minutes."

  "Maggie ... Mom,” he corrected himself. “Can't you see? I'm not exactly dressed!"

  "Oh, well,” she came back as indifferently as if he'd just told her own name. “I'm so sorry. You know, it's not like I haven't seen your little hiney before."

  Lee stayed down. The sink really offered no protection. But there was nowhere to go. She was still sanding there giving him that look. And what was it about how she glared back at him that made him feel anger coming on? She revealed more than a glint of amusement, which she didn't seem all so concerned about concealing. If she came right out and laughed at his plight, he really would die.

  "Is Lee okay?” It was Patty's voice from out in the hall.

  "Mom!” he let out in one long, painful moan, trying to slunk down even lower. The only hope for protection he could see was a towel, but it was on the other side of the toilet by the tub. To get it, he'd have to stand away from the sink and reach for it.

  Maggie turned her head back, looking for a moment over her shoulder. “Patty, you stay out. You can't come in."

  Then surprisingly, Maggie didn't walk out, but instead closed the door behind her.

  Her amused look had changed to one of suspicion. She took another step closer. “What have you got there?"

  Lee felt trapped. There was nowhere to go. There was nothing but the sink between him and Maggie. And she still brandished that stupid spatula in her hand.

  "Nothing,” he said innocently. “What are you doing coming in here?” He looked down at himself and then instantly back up. “I was just about to take a shower."

  "Patty needed to use the potty. She said she'd knocked and knocked and only heard the water running. Are you all right?” She put out her hand. “Lee, come on. Show me what you've got in your hand.” She wiggled her fingers. “Come on, give."

  Lee brought his left hand up, leaving the other down to cover himself as best he could and held up the eye. Luckily, the iris part was hidden in the grip of his fingers so it showed only the smooth, white side. “It's a marble, Mom.” He held it up straight out to her. “See, just a white marble. I found it. I was cleaning it up, is all."

  She leaned in, then quickly leaned back.

  He thought she was going to say something as her lips moved, but she stopped and just looked back at him.

  "What?” he pleaded.

  "All right. All right.” She let the hand with the spatula drop to her waist. “I was just worried about you is all.” That oddly amused and slightly mischievous look came back carried on a grin she just barely managed to suppress. “Patty came to me twice, so I had to come see.” She raised the spatula and twirled it. “I mean, I know how boys are."

  He stared at her blankly.

  "You know, hanging out in the bathroom. You're at that age. Boys like to ... well you know."

  Lee couldn't believe what she was talking about. Of all the gall! Did she think she was going to come in and catch him doing something? It dawned on him. She had hoped to catch him. For a moment, he thought of his friend, Art. But then again, Art wouldn't care. He refocused on the situation. All he knew was she still hadn't left, and every moment he was feeling more and more exposed and embarrassed.

  She waved the spatula at the tub. “How come the curtain's been left open?"

  "What?"

  "The shower curtain.” She reached over and jiggled it, rattling the rings at the top. “It looks tacky to have it open.” She waved the spatula at the toilet. “Like the toilet seat, leaving it up. It's lowlife. Imagine what people would think?"

  So many thoughts tumbled in his mind. “I'm about to take a shower, for Christ's sake,” was first and foremost. Of course, he didn't dare say it out loud. The soap was right there in the dish, and he didn't want to end up having a taste.

  "I guess Patty or dad must have left it open,” he offered. “I just got in here.” He hated that she wasn't looking him in the eye; where she kept her attention focused only made him feel that much more naked and exposed.

  "Don't go blaming everything on your sister,” she came back.

  "What does it matter if the shower curtain is open or closed?” he added in desperation. “I'm about to take a shower. There isn't anybody going to come in here.” Except for you, he thought.

  She finally looked up. “Don't you be sassy."

  He had no reply. All he could do was crouch and gape.

  Thankfully, Maggie reached back behind herself and grabbed the door handle. “Now you hurry up. And don't be standing in here wasting so much water.” She opened the door a crack. “I think working out in that sun has addled your brains.” She pointed the spatula at him. “You know water doesn't grow on trees?"

  "I know. I know."

  She was blocking the doorway. He was sure Patty was there waiting for her chance to participate in his humiliation. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I am you
r mom, you know."

  He didn't even want to argue. “I know. I'm fine, really."

  She still had that look. What was it? A phrase popped to mind: “The cat that ate the canary."

  Maggie turned slightly and opened the door a bit more. In anticipation and relief, Lee started to step out.

  "Mama, I need to go potty!” Patty complained from where she stood in the hall trying eagerly to peek in the door.

  Maggie halted and looked back again, causing Lee to retreat back behind the sink. “Why don't you go ahead and let your sister use the bathroom?"

  "Mom!” Lee couldn't believe it. “I was in here first!"

  The perturbed look came back. “She's been waiting. You can give her a minute. It won't take long. Just get a towel, you big baby, and put it around yourself, and then let your sister use the bathroom. Come on, scoot.” Maggie stepped over and grabbed the towel off of the towel bar and standing right in front of him, held it out.

  He knew there wasn't any arguing with her.

  He snatched the towel away. He'd do anything if she would just quit looking at him like that. Grudgingly, and keeping the eye locked away in his sweaty fist, he managed to wrap the towel around his waist and finally squeezed out from behind the sink. Maggie pushed open the door and stepped aside. Lee had to go out past her. As soon as he did she gave him a swat on the rump with the spatula, catching him on the bare skin he hadn't known was exposed. In the fluster of his anxiety he'd apparently neglected to pull the towel completely together, and like the gap in the back of a hospital gown he'd left himself a little too open. Smirking broadly, Maggie at last followed him out.

  Patty was there leaning up against the wall right by the door. She walked past and said accusingly, “Bathroom hog."