The Lost Door

by Marc Buhmann

  “William? I have a question for you, and I want the truth.”

  “No I’m not secretly a fan of Archie. I told you—horror and supernatural only—and you will not get me to try it.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  William glanced at Willem, realized his joke wasn’t getting the laugh he’d hoped for, and stopped grinning. “Okay,” William said reluctantly.

  “You remember those rumors that got started at school? The one about my mom?”

  “Yeah,” he said cautiously. “What about it?”

  “Was there any truth to it?”

  William gave a cursory glance. “I don’t know. You know how rumors are. Someone says they like potato chips, that’s passed around ten times and suddenly werewolves are space aliens from Mars. Don’t you remember the experiment in Mr. Miller’s class?”

  “Yeah, but I think a couple kids deliberately changed up the story.”

  “That’s exactly how rumors work. People change them to make them more interesting. Whatever was said about your mother I wouldn’t worry about it. They were rumors, and that is all.”

  Willem wished he could—had tried—but he hadn’t been able shake it.

  “Who started the rumor?” he asked.

  “You serious? How should I know?”

  “Where did you hear the rumor then?”

  “I don’t remember. Jesus, Willem. I feel like I’m on trial or something.”

  Willem had to make William understand why he needed to know, why this bothered him so much. Maybe then he’d be less reluctant to spill the beans.

  “You know that itch you get under the skin, the one you can’t scratch away no matter how hard you try? That rumor is sort of like that for me. I can’t get rid of it, and I think the only relief will be knowing the truth.”

  William gave Willem a long hard look, sighed, and said, “Why don’t you ask your brother? The rumors started with the older kids anyway.”

  “I’ve tried, but he won’t say.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Please.”

  He sounded more desperate than he intended, but this was probably the last chance he had to hear the rumor for himself.

  “Fine. What exactly do you want to know?”

  “What is it you heard exactly?”

  “It’s not a big deal, Willem. The story I heard is that someone saw your mom with someone.”

  “What, like talking?”

  “No not like talking!” A brief pause, then: “Making out.”

  “Oh.”

  That was it? His mom was spotted kissing someone? While the image kind of grossed him out he knew that people kissed. What was the big deal?

  William’s mouth contorted into a sideways pinch. “A couple times.”

  “A couple… How many?”

  Another glance from William followed by a shrug. “Two, maybe three?” He obviously was avoiding giving a definitive number. He countered William’s look with one of disapproval. William sighed. “Five is what I heard.”

  “At the same time?”

  “Eww! No! See? This is how rumors go.”

  While the gross factor increased he failed to see how making out translated to whore for people.

  “And there was touching,” William relented.

  Willem reacted as if slapped. “Like what?”

  William gave him the most curious look, as if to say, Are you kidding me? That was answer enough.

  “Oh.” While disheartened he was happy that someone had finally told him the truth.

  “Remember this is all rumor. Who knows if it’s actually true, and it could have been someone that looked like your mom. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Easy for you to say. What if our positions were reversed?”

  William opened his mouth, had no comeback, and closed it.

  Yes it was a rumor, but Willem knew it to be true; he felt it in his soul. The woman that had raised him, taken care of him, comforted him, she was a different person, a person he no longer knew. Willem now understood that the world was a dark and ugly place. People lied, people did unspeakable things, and for what?

  “Hey, uh… did I tell you I went looking for Caroline’s Cottage?” William was obviously trying to move the conversation away from Willem’s mother.

  “Hmm? Oh. No you didn’t.”

  “I heard someone talking about it a few weeks ago. I spent a couple days wandering the woods but didn’t find it. I did find something neat though—an abandoned road. Had a street sign and everything. There was an old bridge, too. And on the other side—and this was really cool—I found a pit. It may have been a well.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “You know the cemetery on 8? Across from that. Deep in the woods.”

  Willem found himself thinking about William’s find and less so about his mother. Good. He didn’t want to think about her right now. He suddenly wanted to see this place, could feel its mystery pulling at him. “Can you show me?”

  “Sure. When?”

  “Now.”

  “Can’t—not enough time. Me and my folks are going to visit my cousins in a few hours. How about tomorrow?”

  Willem wanted to see this place, was impatient to see it in fact, but wasn’t brave enough to go trouncing in the woods by himself. He’d have to wait.

  “Fine. Tomorrow.”

  * * *

  It was Sunday, and as Willem headed out to meet William his mother had called after him, telling him to take Sammy with. She hadn’t known their agenda for the day—nor did he want to tell her for fear she’d put a stop to it—so he’d begrudgingly agreed. As their house disappeared in the distance Willem finally told Sammy where they were going. He’d been enthusiastic until the sky had darkened.

  “I don’t know if we should do this right now,” Sammy said as they rode up to William. They’d decided to meet at the entrance to the cemetery.

  “What? You scared?” William teased.

  “No,” he scoffed. “It’s just… our mom might worry if we’re not home when it starts to rain.”

  “It’s just overcast is all.”

  “It’ll be alright, Sammy,” Willem soothed. “Nothing is going to happen. I promise.” He looked across the highway to the barely visible crumbling and overgrown road. “Is that it?”

  “Yep.”

  The boys continued on, the woods seeming to darken as they went in deeper.

  A crow cawed, leaves rustled.

  Several times they had to stop and carry their bikes over downed trees that covered the road. It weaved from left to right, down and up—a winding twisting road to nowhere.

  “What do you think this was used for?” Willem asked.

  “Not sure. Maybe logging? Hasn’t been used in a long time though, that’s for sure.”

  William skidded to a halt, Willem and Sam following suit. “Why’d you stop?”

  “There.” William was pointing to a rusty street sign. It’s where Pine and Oak crossed, though where Oak was he couldn’t say. There didn’t seem to be a cross street, yet this sign indicated otherwise. Maybe it had never been finished or had just been a dirt road.

  A great flapping sounded above. He looked up and an eagle with the largest wingspan he’d ever seen was beating its wings, launching itself from a tree. Off to their left dead leaves rustled on the ground as something moved beneath them.

  Probably a squirrel or chipmunk, Willem thought.

  “We’re getting close.” William started to move again, Willem and Sammy matching his speed.

  “How did you find this place anyway?”

  “I overheard some older kids talking about this place and figured it might be it. They’d mentioned the cemetery so I just started exploring.”

  The road curved and was suddenly gone. “Whoops!” William said grabbing the brake, his wheels sliding to a stop. Willem and Sammy skidded next to him. “Sorry. Forgot it came up that quickly.”

  They were
a few feet from the edge of the collapsed bridge, the ruin in the stream below, the water trickling around the white and cracked stone. Willem could imagine it had been a beautiful bridge at one point, but years of neglect must have taken its toll. He estimated the length across was no more than thirty or forty feet, the stream ten feet down. They could easily cross it as the water was only a few inches deep.

  “How do we get across?” Sammy asked as thunder rumbled.

  “There’s a trail just over there,” William said, pointing. He walked his bike to the embankment next to the bridge, and Willem watched as William made his way down. It wasn’t exceptionally steep, but the leaves made it slippery.

  Willem followed, taking each step cautiously.

  “Watch it right there,” William said.

  Willem saw the skid mark of where William had slid. A rock lay half buried in leaves. If either had hit their head on that there was a good chance they’d be out for the count, bleeding, possibly dying. Willem stepped over the spot, tested the ground, and shifted his weight. A few more steps and he was down.

  “Its okay, Sam. Just watch your step and take it slow.”

  He stood at the bottom and watched his brother slide down ever so carefully, taking ginger steps. He nearly lost his balance—let go of his bike—but managed to grab onto a tree branch. His bike rolled down and crashed into one of the bridge stones.

  Sammy tested his footing, seemed satisfied, continued down.

  His foot shot out from under him and he went down, arms flailing. He landed on his butt and yelped.

  William laughed.

  “Sam!” Willem cried. “You okay?”

  Sam nodded furiously, fear showing.

  “Just slide on down. You’ll be fine.”

  Sam took it nice and slow. Once he was on level ground he stood.

  “Oh my God you should have seen your face!” William tried to stifle the laugh but another came with a short snort.

  “It’s not funny!” Sammy cried out, tears in his eyes.

  Willem scowled at William, said, “Knock it off.”

  Sam went to his bike, now in inches of water.

  “It okay?”

  Sam stood it up and inspected it. “I think so.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, but can we go home now? Please?”

  Willem didn’t want to, but he also didn’t like seeing Sam scared. He was trying to hide it but not very well. He turned to William. “Maybe we should.”

  “It’s just up ahead, maybe five minutes.”

  So close. It would be a shame to turn back now. He went to Sam and crouched so he was at eye level. “Five minutes, okay? Any more and we’ll turn around.”

  Sam was sullen. “Fine.”

  William led the way across the shallow water, trying to step on rocks that weren’t completely submerged. The embankment on the other side wasn’t as steep and they made it up without incident. Mounting their bikes they continued to ride.

  A gust of cool wind hit them, and the first drops of rain hit his cheeks. The broken road darkened drop by drop.

  “Shit,” Willem muttered.

  Thunder rolled above, a low deep rumble.

  And then the road ended, blocked by two giant boulders. William guided them around the boulders to a barely visible narrow dirt road. They followed it, splashing through a puddle, then crested a hill where the boys stopped.

  Below was the clearing. William was right; it looked like a foundation but not quite. More of an indentation. To the left of that was a black hole in the ground.

  If it wasn’t Caroline’s Cottage then they’d stumbled upon some other relic of a bygone era.

  “Come on,” William said and led the way down the hill.

  They stopped and dismounted prior to the clearing, the threshold of the property. When they crossed the temperature seemed to drop, the light darkening further.

  My imagination, Willem thought. Has to be.

  The well fascinated Willem, and he felt himself drawn to it. William mumbled, “Be careful.”

  A few stones lined the perimeter, but the ground was mostly eroded. The water within was milky black.

  He turned and joined William at the indentation of the cabin or house or whatever it was. Sam hung back, not venturing any closer than the clearing border.

  Willem noted there were no broken or rotting wood beams, remnants of walls, shingles from a roof—anything—lying about. If the place had been abandoned then were was all that stuff? Strange the building wasn’t here. Or maybe it was all just their minds playing tricks on them.

  “This is it?”

  “As far as I could find,” answered William.

  Willem placed his foot on the other side of what he thought was the foundation, the tip of his shoe first as if testing the stability of the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Sam hissed.

  He looked at his brother and shrugged. “Looking around.”

  “Don’t! Can’t you feel it?”

  He’d thought it had just been his mind playing a silly trick on him—letting the weather and mood of the situation get the better of him—but Sam voicing a shared experience unnerved him.

  “I’ll only be a second.” He brought his other foot across. He turned and smiled. “See?”

  Another crack of thunder rolled across the land. “Fine, but hurry up!”

  Something was drawing Willem here, a tiny voice whispering unintelligible words masked by static in his mind. It was eerie yet comforting. He was nervous but felt safe.

  He took another step in, then another, moving towards the center, towards the whisper. And then the voice shifted, luring him in a different direction.

  At the point where he felt the voice strongest he stopped.

  Here. Right here. Something…

  He got on his knees and started moving the dirt around. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he sensed it was here.

  William asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Just a minute,” and continued to dig.

  His finger touched cold metal. He dug around it, got his fingers around it, and pulled. A heavy circular smooth ring about the size of his hand came loose and popped from its dirt prison. Willem stared at it, unsure what it was. He turned it in his hand, rubbing the grime away.

  “What have you got?” William wanted to know.

  But Willem didn’t answer, just stared at it.

  The forest lit with blue light, flickering wildly before growing darker still. This time, instead of a gentle gradual roll of thunder, it cracked.

  “We should go,” William called. “Think it’s going to be bad.” He got on his bike and joined Sammy at the edge of the clearing.

  The static and voice had faded away, and with nothing to lead him he felt aimless. Whatever had drawn him had dissipated, the mystique of the place dead, yet the curiosity lingered. He definitely wanted to come back another day and explore, and when he did he’d come prepared. There was something magical about this place, something unique, he just didn’t know what.

  A flash of lightning brought him back to reality. He looked around and saw William and Sam at the top of the hill waving their arms.

  Willem ran to his bike and slid the ring on the bike handle, then joined William and Sam. Williem glanced back once, saw the property disappear, consumed by the surrounding forest.

  I’ll be back, he kept telling himself. I’ll be back again.

  He increased his speed, pushing forward, the wind at his back.

  nine

  (1960)

  He was dreaming but try as he might David couldn’t wake. He was in his pajamas standing barefoot in the black woods, full moon shining through the naked fall branches. His feet carried him along the decomposing leaves, a blanket of autumnal rust. He crested a hill, and below stood a single-story wooden cabin. Golden light shown in one window.

  Three ghostly figures rode past on bikes startling him. Boys, he thought. They were just boys, their faces masked i
n distortion and hollow laughter. David followed them down, and by the time he reached the clearing in the woods the boys had neared the cabin.

  No! he wanted to cry. Stay away!

  There was something in this place, something dangerous that was imprisoned—something other and mad.

  Mad and bat shit crazy.

  One of the boys approached the wooden porch and passed through it at shin level. The door was an ominous fixture, a maw ready to tear its prey apart. David sensed it, but the boy seemed oblivious. He wanted to run to him, to stop him, but his feet would take him no further. Instead he stood beside the youngest of the three, the one smart enough to stay away.

  The ghost boy crossed the threshold, passing through the door.

  Come back! You have to come back!

  The door swung open silently and a man emerged.

  DeMarcus.

  He had that shit-eating smile on his face, and he was looking directly at David. He was suddenly very cold, and the hair on the back of his neck stood.

  DeMarcus beckoned David forward. He realized he was no longer shackled to this spot, that he could move on his own. He stood his ground and stared at the smiling man.

  Again DeMarcus waved him over and said, “You’re safe here.”

  His feet moved on their own, ushering him toward The Smiling Man.

  “This is the shadow dream—what was and will be again,” DeMarcus cooed.

  A ghostly inhuman screech echoed around them. David jumped at the sound and looked frantically around. “What was that?”

  DeMarcus’ eyes never wavered. “A prisoner of nowhere, a guardian of everwhere.” He stepped forward. “You must bring her to me.”

  A high-pitched buzzing intoned from some far off place.

  “I don’t understand. Who?” David asked.

  “Lilly.”

  The buzzing grew louder.

  “How do you know my wife?”

  And louder still. He felt like his teeth were rattling.

  “There isn’t much time,” DeMarcus responded. “She’ll listen to you. Bring her.”

  “Where? What are you talking about?”