One Last Scream

by Kevin O'Brien

  As she stepped out of the booth, Karen saw someone walking along the roadside. Coming from the direction of the lake house, she seemed to emerge from the darkness.

  “Amelia?” Karen called to her.

  Although it was still drizzling lightly, she dawdled. Her black hair was in wet tangles, and the navy-blue rain jacket was too big on her. The sleeves came down to her fingers. She seemed lost in thought. It was another few moments before she appeared to notice Karen, and then she waved and ran toward her.

  “Amelia, what are you doing out here?” Karen asked. “You’ll catch your death.”

  She gave Karen a hug. Her cheek felt cold. “I’m sorry. Were you waiting long?”

  “Not very,” Karen said. Pulling away, she held her at arm’s length and looked at her. Karen noticed she wasn’t wearing any makeup. “What were you doing, honey? Why didn’t you wait in the diner?”

  She let out a long sigh, and tugged at a strand of her hair. “Oh, I decided to walk down to the cabin. But I only got halfway there before I chickened out and turned back. I keep thinking it would be good therapy for me to go there and see it.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Karen replied. “You’d only get upset if you went there now. It would be pointless.” She put an arm around her. “C’mon, let’s get you some coffee, something to warm you up.”

  As she ushered her into the restaurant and back toward the window table, Karen heard the blond waitress call out to someone: “Well, hi there, Frenchie!”

  The two of them sat down. “We should make our orders to go,” Karen said. “I’d like to get on the road soon….”

  “Frenchie?” the waitress chirped again.

  Karen looked up and realized she was approaching their table. “Well, Frenchie, aren’t you going to say hi?” the waitress asked.

  Karen stared across the table. “Amelia?”

  Still tugging at a wet strand of hair, she looked up at the waitress. “Oh, hi…Connie,” she said, obviously reading the name tag.

  “When you walked in just now, you acted like you didn’t know me,” the waitress said.

  She smiled up at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m kind of spacey today. How are you?”

  “I can’t complain,” the waitress replied. “Who’ll listen?”

  “Did you just call her ‘Frenchie’?” Karen asked.

  The waitress nodded. “I don’t even have to give this one a menu. She always orders the same thing, the French dip. Every time she comes in here with her folks, she…” The waitress trailed off, and a pained look passed across her face. She shook her head. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. All of us here felt terrible when we heard about it….”

  “Thanks, Connie,” she murmured, her head down.

  “I’ll get your drink order, hon,” Connie said. “The usual? Sprite?”

  She nodded. “Thanks very much.” She waited until the waitress retreated toward the kitchen, then she leaned across the table to Karen. “I can tell she’s embarrassed. Could you excuse me for a minute, Karen?”

  Getting to her feet, she walked over to the counter. She murmured something to the waitress, who was at the soda machine. Connie put down the glass of soda, then came around the counter and gave her a hug. After a moment, the tall, white-haired cook ambled out from the kitchen and quietly spoke to her, too. He shook her hand, but she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He blushed a bit.

  Finally, she came back to the table. “They’re so sweet,” she whispered. “They’re getting our drinks to go, and are refusing to take any money, not even a tip. Listen, I need to use the bathroom, and then we can get going, okay?”

  Karen watched her walk toward the restrooms.

  Five minutes later, they stepped out of Danny’s Diner, carrying their drinks, along with two pieces of pie that the waitress insisted they have for free.

  “God, Karen,” she said, stopping to look back at the tacky, little chalet-style restaurant. She had tears in her eyes. “Aren’t those people nice? It makes me sad to think I’m probably never coming back here.”

  Karen just patted her arm, and said nothing.

  They headed to the rental car, and Karen unlocked the door for her.

  She hesitated before climbing inside. “Karen, I know you’re in a hurry to get to Seattle, and we have a lot to talk about,” she said. “But could we go by the lake house first?”

  She grimaced. “Oh, Amelia, like I said, I don’t think you should go in there-”

  “Please, Karen, I feel I need to do it for closure. On top of that, there are some things of mine in that house, and I don’t want to have to come back here.” She sighed. “I really don’t think I could go in there on my own, or with anyone else for that matter. You’re the only one. C’mon, it’s just a five-minute drive. Can’t we just do this, and get it over with?

  Karen stared at her for a moment, then she took a deep breath and nodded. “All right, Amelia. We’ll swing by, if that’s what you really want. Hurry up, get in.”

  She climbed into the passenger seat, and set their drinks in the cup holders.

  Karen got behind the wheel, then handed her the carryout bag. Starting up the car, she backed out of the parking space. Karen paused before shifting gears, and turned toward her. “Are you sure you want to go?” she asked. “Honey, you should know, there are still bloodstains. And everything’s covered with dusting powder for fingerprints. It’s not going to be pleasant.”

  She nodded glumly. “I figured as much. But I still want to go, Karen. And I want you there with me. Like I said, I need to have closure.”

  “Okay,” Karen murmured.

  Then she pulled onto the dark, winding road toward the beach house.

  The big monster of a door wouldn’t budge.

  Amelia had tugged and tugged at the handle, but it was no use. Someone must have jammed the lock on the outside.

  Panic-stricken, she couldn’t get a normal breath. And she was shivering in the cold, windowless little room. Amelia kept the itchy blanket wrapped around her. Under that, she still had on her T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms from last night. Her bare feet were freezing and filthy from walking on the dirty concrete floor.

  She’d already searched every inch of the place, looking for a wrench, a crowbar, or anything to pry the door open. At the same time, she realized it would probably take a jackhammer to penetrate the damn thing.

  During her search, she uncovered a watercolor she’d painted of the lake house back when she was ten. It was pretty god-awful. No wonder the thing had ended up in the fallout shelter behind some boxes. Her parents had framed it, but the glass in the frame was now cracked. Amelia slipped the watercolor out of the frame, and saw a sheet of black cardboard backing it. With that behind the glass, it was almost like a mirror-a cracked mirror.

  Amelia looked at her reflection, and the close-shorn haircut someone had given her while she’d slept. She could see the skin irritation around her nose and mouth.

  “Why is this happening?” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “Who’s doing this to me?”

  Whoever it was, they were probably coming back for her. They’d left her food, a light, and a blanket. They wouldn’t have done that if they weren’t coming back. They wouldn’t have left her anything if they expected her to die in this gloomy little crypt.

  Her hands shaking, Amelia slipped a piece of broken glass out of the frame. It was about eight inches long, and very sharp along the edge. If someone did come down here, she would be ready for them.

  For some reason, she thought of Karen Carlisle. The last thing Amelia remembered was falling asleep in Karen’s spare bedroom, while Karen sat in that rocker in the corner. Had Karen decided that she was so dangerous she had to be locked up? Had Karen shorn her hair like a convict and then stuck her in this makeshift little prison?

  Amelia couldn’t think of any other explanation. Maybe that was why she had this sudden, inexplicable contempt for her therapist and friend. She was as close t
o Karen as she’d been to the family she’d just lost. Amelia remembered having had this same loathing for her brother, Collin, before his accident, and for her parents and Aunt Ina the night they’d died in this house.

  All she could think about was slitting Karen’s throat.

  Wrapped up in the blanket, she sat down on the edge of the cot and stared at the jagged piece of glass. She told herself that she could never hurt Karen. Amelia started to cry.

  But she didn’t let go of the glass.

  She stared at Karen and shook her head. “How could I feel things from this twin I didn’t even know I had?” she asked. “How could I have forgotten all about her?”

  Karen took her eyes off the road for a second. “Well, you have to consider, you were four years old when you last saw her.” She searched for the little inlet off Holden Trail, but she couldn’t see much beyond the headlight beams in front of her. It was a treacherous drive at night with no guardrail along the side of the road, nothing to stop the car from tumbling downhill if she overshot her lane.

  They were both silent for a moment. The windshield wipers squeaked, and rain tapped on the roof. Karen wasn’t sure what to tell her. There was so much to explain. She’d decided Amelia didn’t need to know about her father just yet. That could wait. But she had to understand what was happening now. It was very likely they’d need her to talk to her twin sister, and reason with her.

  “A lot of bad things happened to you, Amelia,” she went on. “I think you made yourself forget most of it. That’s how you were able to survive. But your twin didn’t forget you. She still has you on her frequency. I think she’s had a very hard life, too. You must have experienced some of it secondhand with those phantom pains and the nightmares.”

  “So you’re saying this twin sister killed my parents, and Aunt Ina and Collin?” she asked, incredulous. “And I was on her frequency?”

  Karen nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry, Amelia. But I think you were picking up those violent sensations and images from her. That’s why you blamed yourself for everything she was doing.”

  She shook her head. “I’m still blown away. Why is she doing this?”

  Karen sighed. “I don’t know for sure. Obviously, she has a grudge against you or something. Maybe she resents that you’ve ended up having a better life.”

  “Or maybe she feels I abandoned her.”

  “Well, whatever her reasons are, Amelia, you need to remember it’s not your fault.”

  “So her name’s Annabelle,” she murmured. “My God, all this time I thought I had a split personality or something. “

  “No, you’ve just been picking up on the things she was doing. You didn’t know it, but you have a window into her world.” Karen saw a turnaround on the left. “Isn’t this it?” she asked.

  “Um, yeah,” she said distractedly.

  Karen pulled into a small alcove, but she didn’t switch off the ignition. “Listen, before we go down there, I need to ask you again, Amelia. Are you picking up any kind of feeling that something’s wrong at your Uncle George’s house? Do you sense that George, your cousins, or Jessie are in any kind of trouble?”

  She looked back at Karen and shook her head. “Why do you keep asking that? Are they in trouble?”

  “Your Uncle George is worried, and so am I.” Karen glanced at her wristwatch. George would be landing in Seattle within a half hour.

  She turned off the ignition. “Listen, Amelia, on our way back, I want to stop by Danny’s again and phone your uncle. Then I might have you call his house. If Annabelle is there, we’ll need you to talk to her.”

  She let out a stunned little laugh. “Karen, I don’t understand any of this. Are you saying my sister’s at Uncle George’s house?”

  Karen nodded. “We think it’s possible. Are you sure you’re not sensing something? You’ve always known ahead of time what your sister’s planning. You’re not feeling anything?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing about Jody or Steffie. Right now, I just feel this very strong need to go to the lake house. Please, Karen.” She opened the car door. “Don’t worry about the trail at night. Just hold on to my hand. I know it by heart by now.”

  Karen got out of the car and paused at the top of the trail. In the darkness, she could barely see the path through the trees and shrubs. But she was thinking about something else that didn’t seem right. She’d figured Amelia would have been far more concerned right now about the safety of her only surviving family members. Instead, she was bent on visiting the lake house one more time for closure. Karen was waiting for George’s plane to land before calling and consulting him on their next move. But Amelia didn’t know any of that. It didn’t make sense that a final trip to the lake house was such a priority.

  There had been a moment back at the diner, when she hadn’t recognized the waitress. A tiny alarm had gone off in Karen’s gut, then.

  She thought about all the other people Annabelle must have duped before killing them. Did the Faradays, George’s wife, or Shane ever realize before their violent deaths that they were staring at Amelia’s twin?

  “C’mon, Karen.” She smiled and held out her hand. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Karen hesitated, but then grabbed her hand. Engulfed in darkness, she started to follow her down the trail. She took cautious little steps in the direction she was being pulled. Around her, she heard raindrops pattering on leaves, and branches rustling in the gentle wind.

  She thought about her dad’s old revolver in her purse. “Amelia, remember what we were talking about in your last session?” she said, hating the nervous little wiggle that crept into her voice. She cleared her throat. “Um, you were telling me how you really resented Shane sometimes, and for no apparent reason. Remember that?”

  She paused. “No, Karen, I don’t. I don’t recall saying anything like that.”

  In the dark, Karen couldn’t see her face, or her expression. Did Annabelle know she was being tested again? Or was this Amelia, quite understandably, not remembering a conversation that had never happened?

  “Actually, it’s weird you should mention Shane, right after you asked about those premonitions,” she went on. “I can’t help thinking something might have happened to him. And I–I feel I’ve caused it somehow. What do you make of that? Do you suppose I just feel guilty, because I borrowed his car without asking him?” She started moving again, pulling Karen’s hand. “Anyway, I’m worried about him, Karen. He’s not answering his cell, and he hasn’t returned any of my calls.”

  Karen could hear the vulnerability in her voice, and it sounded so much like Amelia. She wondered how she was going to tell her that Shane was dead. There was so much Amelia still didn’t know.

  Karen continued down the slope with her, blindly following her lead. She could only make out shapes in the murky blackness around her, and every step seemed precarious. She had to put all her trust in her guide.

  “Careful, Karen,” she heard her say. Her grip tightened. “It’s a little slippery here. And there’s a big ditch on your right.”

  Karen felt the wet ground and gravel under her shoes. She told herself: If this is Annabelle, she could have so easily killed you by now.

  “We’re almost there, Karen. Thank you for doing this.” She steered her around a curve in the trail. “So, about Shane, do you think he’s okay? You don’t suppose this-Annabelle-has gotten to him, do you?”

  “I–I can’t say for sure,” Karen replied, feeling horrible. She couldn’t tell her the truth right now. It was too much.

  “There’s a railing and some flagstones coming up, and then we’re out of the woods.”

  With her foot, Karen tapped around the dirt and gravel until she felt the flat flagstones beneath her. She held on to the wooden railing with her free hand. She could now see Amelia’s silhouette and, in front of them, a clearing, and the Faradays’ lake house.

  They started up the stone pathway to the house.

  The terrain had flattened out, but she still held
onto Karen’s hand. “Y’know, when we go back to Danny’s Diner, I’m calling Shane again.” Her voice had a little tremor to it. “And then let’s try to track down this twin sister I didn’t know I had. We need to stop her before she hurts someone else.”

  “We will, Amelia,” Karen said.

  “My God, look at this,” she muttered, stopping to stare at the front door. The strips of yellow police tape fluttered in the wind.

  “Are you sure you want to go in?” Karen asked gently.

  “Yes, it’s something I’ve got to do,” she said. Letting go of Karen’s hand, she stepped toward the door. “We keep a key hidden up here.”

  Karen watched her reach up and pat along the top of the doorway frame. The sleeve of her oversized rain jacket slipped down her bare arm. Karen saw an ugly scar on the back of her wrist. She stifled a gasp.

  Amelia had remembered the pain. But Annabelle still carried the scar.

  “Here it is,” she announced, the key in her hand. “I was afraid the police might have found it and taken it.” She brushed aside some of the loose yellow tape, and put the key in the lock. “My, God, it’s not even locked….”

  Karen couldn’t move. She just stared at her, and tried to get a breath.

  Annabelle opened the door, then turned toward Karen. “Do you want to lead the way this time?”

  Karen shook her head. She waited until Annabelle stepped inside the house, then she reached inside her purse for the revolver. She came to the doorway, and saw the 19-year-old standing in the middle of the living room.

  “Oh, my God, Karen, look at the blood,” she cried. Annabelle was a very good actress. She recoiled, then opened her bag and frantically dug into it. “God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Karen already had the revolver out-and pointed at her. “Stop it, Annabelle,” she said.

  But Annabelle pulled something out of her purse.

  “Hold it right there!” Karen yelled.

  Annabelle froze. Karen still couldn’t see what was in her hand.

  For a moment, there was dead silence, and then a faint murmuring sound. It came from the basement, and yet seemed so far away, too. “Karen? Is someone there? Karen! Help me!”