Frantic

by Mike Dellosso

  Blood oozed out of the cupboards all around the kitchen and plinked onto the countertop below. Just a slow drip at first, like that of a leaky faucet, then steadily increasing.

  William held his ground and kept his gaze on Marny. “Esther is here, Marnin. She’s in this house.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m her brother. I can feel her.”

  The blood was picking up its pace now, streaming out of the cupboards and pooling on the countertop. The oven and stove continued to burn their flames.

  “William, are you sure?”

  William nodded. “But you won’t make it out of here without trust. You need to have faith, Marnin.”

  So they were back to the faith thing. Marny didn’t have faith; he knew he didn’t. And he didn’t trust God or Jesus, not really. What had They ever done for him? Death had followed him his whole life and had stolen anyone who was ever dear to him. Where was God in all of that? Marny was convinced that no amount of faith could have stopped those deaths.

  Now the blood was spilling over the edge of the counters and puddling on the floor below, turning the white linoleum a deep red. The pipes had taken to rattling and knocking on the walls again too. It sounded like every pipe in the house had joined in on the chorus.

  Near the sink, on the wall, hung a telephone in its cradle. Marny crossed the floor, avoiding the pools. “I’m calling for help.” He grabbed the phone from the jack and put it to his ear, but there was no dial tone, nothing but silence. He slammed down the phone. “Listen to me, William. If we’re going to get Esther, we need to move now. Where do you think she is?”

  William hesitated, clearly not satisfied with Marny’s response. He pointed to a door in the corner of the kitchen. “Down there.”

  Chapter 57

  THE MOUTH MOVED, lips formed words, and the corpse found a voice.

  “Why did you leave me there, Gary?”

  It was Landon’s body in that casket, but the voice that came from his mouth was not that of Gary’s brother. Landon was low functioning and rarely spoke, and when he did, his words were barely intelligible. No, the voice that came from the boy in the casket was William’s.

  William. The anointed. The other boy Gary had been charged to protect.

  And had left downstairs.

  But right now Landon had his attention.

  “Why did you leave me there, Gary?”

  It was the question everyone had asked him. He was fourteen; he needed to be consoled, comforted, told it wasn’t his fault. He needed his mother; she would have understood. But she was gone too. Instead, all he got were questions and more questions. Why did you start the fire on such a windy day? Why did you leave it unattended? Why did you leave Landon there alone? Why didn’t you put the brakes on the wheelchair?

  Gary had withdrawn into a cave and pulled so far back that no light could reach him. His relationship with his father deteriorated into nothing, two empty shells coexisting in the same house but having no bond. The Reverend Morris continued his duties as minister at the church, but his heart was never in it. For months after Landon’s death he’d insisted the boy would live again, that God would raise up his anointed, but when a year had passed and Landon’s body had not climbed from the grave they’d placed him in, the Reverend Morris lost all hope.

  And though Gary had withdrawn, though he’d distanced himself from his father and convinced himself that he hated the man, deep down, down where the heart and soul unite, he longed to gain his father’s approval once again.

  Landon’s eyes never wavered from Gary’s. “Why did you leave me, Gary?”

  Gary didn’t answer. He’d answered that question a thousand times as a kid, and every time it was the same: “I don’t know.”

  “Why did you leave him?” A man’s voice.

  It was the voice Gary heard in his head every day. His father’s voice. The voice of the Reverend Morris.

  Gary turned and found his father standing in the far corner of the parlor. The man was tall and thin, old. His white hair perched atop his head like a half-made bird’s nest. His suit hung on him like a boneless body. The Reverend Morris had died three years ago, and though his funeral was attended by many, Gary was not among the mourners. But he was here now.

  The Reverend Morris stepped closer. “Son, it was your calling, your charge, your duty. You were his John the Baptizer, preparing the way.” His voice was frail and raspy. He sounded tired. “You had one purpose in life … to protect God’s anointed. How could you fail in such a colossal manner?”

  Gary wanted to run to his father and throw himself at the man’s feet, beg him to grant him another chance. Gary would make things right with William.

  William. Again Gary remembered he’d left the boy downstairs with the punk. Guilt pricked at his conscience. He’d been so drawn by the water, by the sound of someone on the second floor, he’d lost focus and abandoned William. Just as he’d done to Landon all those years ago. He needed to get downstairs.

  Behind him Gary heard the crackle of fire. He spun around and found flames climbing the drapes behind the casket. Paralysis overtook him, and he watched, helpless, as fire completely consumed the drapes. It licked at the ceiling and quickly spread to the carpet. He needed to get out of there. He needed to move now, but his legs wouldn’t work. Inch by inch he turned his feet until he faced the doorway.

  His father stood between him and the closed door, hands clasped in front, head tilted to one side. “You disappointed me, son. You let us all down. The whole world. He was an innocent lamb in your care. What a disappointment. What a failure.”

  In an explosion of spontaneous combustion, the Reverend Morris burst into flames. He showed no sign of pain. “What a disappointment.”

  Gary yelled and lifted one leg, then the other. The room was rapidly becoming an inferno.

  “What a failure.”

  He needed to get to William. He needed to protect the anointed one. He’d failed once; he would not fail again.

  Screaming like a man on fire himself, Gary willed his legs to move and ran for the door. He reached down and scooped his gun off the floor, met his father in three steps, and put a round in the fiery man’s chest. The Reverend Morris stumbled back and fell. Gary hit the door at full speed, splintering it from its hinges. The door gave way, and both it and Gary landed in the hallway where the temperature had dropped even further.

  Chapter 58

  SURPRISES OFTEN LURK behind closed doors.

  The door was shut and locked from the kitchen side by a brass sliding bolt, which seemed kind of odd to Marny. If Harold had taken Esther down into the cellar, how could he have locked the door from the other side?

  Not wanting to spend any more time than they had to in the kitchen with the cabinets that dripped blood and the pipes that shook the walls, Marny and William headed for the door. Marny threw the lock and turned the knob. The door opened smoothly, revealing a wooden staircase that descended into a dark cellar. There was a light switch on the wall to their right, so Marny flipped it. As far as they could see from the top of the steps the cellar was empty. Just concrete floor, concrete walls.

  They both took a step down, then two. The door slammed closed behind them, nearly knocking Marny off-balance. He heard the bolt slide back into place.

  Panic seized him, and he reached for the knob, tried it, shook it, pushed on it. Nothing. They were trapped.

  Marny turned to William. “You sure your sister’s down here?”

  William glanced down the steps, then back at Marny. “She’s down here somewhere, Marnin. I can feel her.”

  Marny could too. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not, but he felt a strange certainty that Esther was down there. He’d formed a bond of sorts with her and realized now that it was more than a bond of friendship. He truly cared about her. He’d go through hell to rescue her—which may be exactly what awaited them at the bottom of the steps. “I do too. I feel her.”

  “We have to save
her.”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s my turn.”

  Down the steps they went. As Marny’s head cleared the first floor he saw that the cellar was not empty after all. Stacks of boxes lined the far walls, some three rows deep. And other things were there as well. A dust-covered treadmill. A ten-speed bike. Skis. Snow shovels. Even a canoe. Behind the stairs, in the middle of the floor, were the furnace and hot water heater. Normal stuff. Things of life. Nothing unusual and nothing that said Esther was or had been there.

  The cellar was quiet too. No pipes rattled, no blood dripped, the steps did not turn into a mountain spring.

  “Well, William, what do you think?”

  Without saying a word, William walked over to where the boxes were three rows deep against the wall. He lifted one and sat it on the floor behind him. Then another and another.

  Marny went to help him. “What are you doing?”

  William stopped. He had a box in his arms. “Looking for my sister, Marnin.”

  “And you think she’s in one of these boxes?” Marny was being facetious, but he didn’t like the sound of what his question implied.

  William eyed him evenly. As usual, his face showed no emotion. “I think she might be behind the boxes.”

  Each row of boxes was higher than the row in front of it. The third row reached almost to the ceiling, but was flush with the wall. How could anyone be behind the boxes?

  It didn’t take them long to get through the first and second rows. Most of the boxes were light, and some felt like they were empty. Marny grabbed the box off the top of the third row and stopped. He stared at the top of a wooden door.

  “William, buddy, do you see that?”

  “It’s a door, Marnin.”

  “Yeah, I know what a door looks like, but where does it go?”

  The only place it could go was back outside. Part of that sounded very appealing to Marny. They could get out of this awful house and farther from Gary. But it would take them no closer to Esther. Maine was a big state, and if she wasn’t in this house, Harold could have taken her anywhere.

  They removed the rest of the boxes to reveal a wooden door with large, iron hinges and a latch lock.

  Marny wiped his palms on his pants. “Only one way to find out.” He lifted the latch and pulled on the door. It opened with a sigh of almost human quality, like it had been holding its breath and finally exhaled.

  On the other side were no steps leading out of the cellar and back to ground level. Instead, a dirt tunnel stretched before them, long and straight. Some light from the cellar filtered in, but only extended fifteen feet before the darkness swallowed it.

  Marny turned to William. “You don’t happen to have a flashlight, do you?”

  Chapter 59

  TO ESTHER, HAROLD loomed like an ancient hunter over his prey.

  He wore a black pullover and dark blue jeans and rested his hands on his hips as if he had grown impatient with her and was ready for things to proceed. He squatted in front of her and ran the back of his hand over her cheek but said not a word. His eyes were dark and lifeless, a shark’s eyes. This was not her father, not even the same man who had brought her back to this house. Something dark and malevolent indwelt him, and it was that thing that stared at her now through Harold’s eyes.

  He stood again, turned to another of the men. “Take her to the room and prepare her.”

  A smaller man stepped forward and smiled at Esther. He too wore a black shirt and jeans.

  He bent at the waist, cut the bands around Esther’s ankles, then put a hand on her shoulder. His touch was cold and his eyes colder. His jet black hair contrasted with his pale, almost lucent skin.

  “Come now, let’s get you up.” He pushed Esther to sitting, then helped her to her feet.

  Esther got a better view of the room. It was about fifteen by fifteen and empty save for the one table and candles, generator in one corner, and a refrigerator next to it. Thick power cords led to the doorway, then disappeared. There were six men besides Harold, and all of them appeared to be drugged or in some sort of trance. They all had the same black, empty eyes.

  The smaller man took Esther by the arm and led her to the door. “Come, I’ll show you the way.”

  They left the room, walked down a short, darkened hallway, and entered another space of similar size. This room had a single bed against one wall and a table on the other side, upon which sat more candles. The bed was made up with dark brown sheets and had a single pillow on it.

  The man motioned toward the bed. “Please, lie down.”

  Esther hesitated.

  The man smiled, an empty grin that showed no real emotion. “It’s okay. I can assure you, no one here wants to rob you of your innocence.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed.

  He fished in his pocket and pulled out a pocket knife, the same one with which he had cut the bands around her ankles.

  “Now, here’s how things will work.” His voice was soft and melodic, almost feminine, but Esther found no comfort in it. “I’m going to loosen the cord around your wrist, and then I’ll remove the tape from your mouth. Don’t try to escape and don’t scream. You won’t get anywhere and no one will hear you. We’re many feet underground and far from any exits.” He paused and ran his thumb lightly over the blade of the knife. “And besides, I’d hate for you to get hurt in those tunnels. They’re very dark, you know.”

  He put the knife behind her and cut the bands around her wrists, then carefully pulled the tape from her mouth. It stung coming off, but the pain only lasted a moment.

  “There, now, isn’t that better?”

  Esther’s urge was to shove the man down and make a dash for the door, but she had no idea what awaited her on the other side. If he was telling the truth about their location, and they were truly underground and miles from civilization, she didn’t stand a chance. She was at his mercy, at Harold’s mercy. And after seeing what he’d done to William and Marny and hearing what he’d done to the Karstens, the thought made her shudder. She stretched her arms in front. Her shoulders ached, but she didn’t care. She needed to move them.

  Esther rubbed her wrists. “What do you want with me?”

  The man smiled again, this time showing two rows of bone-white teeth. “Those are the secrets we keep.” He patted her leg. “But no worries. None of it will hurt. Now, if you will, please lie down and get comfortable.”

  She didn’t like where this was going. Lying down seemed too vulnerable, too passive.

  His smile disappeared, and those empty eyes seemed to look right through her. “I can get some of my friends to help you, but we’d both rather avoid that. I simply abhor violence.”

  Hesitantly, Esther lay supine on the bed, arms at her sides.

  “There now, that’s a good girl. I’ll be right back.” He walked to the table and opened a drawer, retrieved something from it and put it in his pocket, then returned to Esther on the bed.

  He knelt beside her and lifted a hand.

  Esther tensed.

  “No, no, no. Come now. Believe me, I have no intention of harming you. My desire is to give life.”

  He placed a hand on her chest, but the contact wasn’t inappropriate. It reminded Esther of the gentle touch of a physician.

  His smile grew big, and this time there was some true excitement in it. “Ah, there it is. Your heart beats strong. Did you know the average heart will beat more than two and half billion times in a person’s lifetime? Nonstop, beating, beating, never quitting. It’s a remarkable organ. The sustainer of life. And the substance it pumps, ah, there is where the magic lies. Life is in the blood, you know.”

  “You’re a doctor.”

  His smile returned. “Yes, I am. A giver of life.”

  He reached into his pocket and withdrew a hypodermic butterfly needle and roll of medical tape.

  Esther started to sit up, but he quickly and gently pushed her back down.

  “Now, now, settle. It’s only a needle for drawing
blood. I won’t be administering any drugs with this. We need your blood clean.”

  “What do you want with me?” she asked again.

  “With you? Not a thing. It’s your blood we desire.” He tied a rubber band around the top of her arm. “Now make a fist.”

  She hesitated.

  “Come now, dear, seriously. Fist, please.”

  There was no use resisting. If he wanted, he could call in his goons and have them hold her down while he did this.

  “Did you know your heart pumps right around two thousand gallons of blood a day? Quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

  Esther didn’t answer.

  “It’s okay to agree with me, you know? It is remarkable.”

  The man tapped on the vein in the crease of her elbow.

  “And did you know the average adult body has approximately sixty thousand miles of blood vessels? End to end that would wrap around the earth two and half times. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

  Again Esther gave no response. If he was attempting to gain her confidence through his knowledge of mundane facts, he was failing.

  “And I only need one small entry site,” he said. His hands worked deftly, and she barely felt the needle go in. He had some experience doing this. He withdrew the needle, untied the rubber band, and placed tape over the butterfly portion. “There, now you can bend your elbow if you like. It’s just a catheter in your vessel, just flexible tubing. Nothing will stick you. I told you it wouldn’t hurt, didn’t I?”

  He then connected a vacuum vial to the tubing, and dark red blood filled it quickly. His eyes met hers, and in them was something vile and dark. “The life is in the blood.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  He held up the vial of blood. “Now don’t think about such things as death. Our goal here is life. And besides, if this is pure, we’ll be keeping you around a bit longer.” He sighed, glanced at the door. “They made mistakes, especially in the past. They were … vicious. Too vicious, I suppose, and got careless. They lost some to disease and such. Nasty little critters. But then they built this little clinic of sorts and found me, and since then we’ve progressed, evolved if you will. Our techniques have become more sophisticated, safer even. For you and us.”