“I apologize that it’s pretty cramped in there, I use the desk for meeting clients, but it really intrudes on the living space.”
The desk sat adjacent to the couch on the left hand side, facing the front door. A small lamp, a penholder with three pens in it, and a stack of folders were the only items adorning it. A television resting on top of a wooden chest, a few paintings of landscapes, a coffee table, and one dead fern completed the rest of the room. Poor fern never stood a chance Ellie mused quietly to herself. Randall returned from the kitchen with two glasses of the cabernet. He sat down next to Ellie and handed her a glass. Ellie was smiling again, the retelling of the horrific event having faded from her mind. Randall had that way about him though, always able to make her forget her worries.
“So what about you Randall Jackson? What brought you back to Saltar’s Point?
“What makes you think something brought me back?”
“No one ever returns to Saltar’s Point by choice.” She sipped her wine eyeing Randall the whole time.
“Cheryl was close to her parents, and she didn’t want to leave.”
“Oh God Randall, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s in the past now. After she left I really didn’t have any other place to go. Everyone I knew was right here in this little town and I guess I kind of feel like it’s my duty to look after them.”
“You have a rare quality Randall Jackson.”
She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Her hair brushed lightly against his cheek, it was soft to the touch and smelled like fresh strawberries. Randall’s head spun, this was Ellie Pritchard, the awkward freckle-faced kid he had looked after when he was younger. She was no longer a kid that was for sure. Randall couldn’t help but find himself attracted to her. He kissed her back, firmly this time. His hand drifted down to her blouse. The neck was cut seductively low, displaying her ample bosom. He traced his fingers along her cleavage; Ellie moaned softly, a rush of adrenaline raced through her body making her cheeks hot and flushed. Ellie reached for the coffee table trying to set her glass of wine down while kissing Randall passionately. She let go too soon and the glass teetered on the edge of the table before toppling to the ground and spraying the wine all over the carpet.
“Son of a bitch! Oh Randall I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean it later.” He continued kissing her, working his way down to her neck and sending shivers up her spine.
“But it’ll stain.”
“I’ve been meaning to replace that carpet for years anyway.” He found that spot just below her ear that made her dizzy. “Now I’ve got a good excuse.”
“I’ve always been somewhat of a klutz.” She managed to get the words out between ragged breaths.
Randall remembered her being a little on the clumsy side. He had always found it endearing. It fit her personality well. He slid his hand down her back and slowly separated the tail of her blouse from her skirt. Ellie’s breathing quickened. His fingers traced from the small of her back moving upward and igniting an outbreak of goose bumps wherever they went. When he reached her bra his fingers found the clasp and unhinged it deftly. Randall surprised himself with how easily he was able to do this; after all it had been quite some time. Guess it’s just like riding a bike Randall thought to himself. Ellie unbuttoned her blouse slowly, keeping eye contact with Randall the whole time and making a production out of it. Her mouth was parted just a tiny bit, giving Randall a glimpse of her tongue as she ran the tip along her teeth, driving him up the wall and making him burn with desire. When she reached the last button she slipped the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall gently to the floor. Randall held his breath in anticipation just before she let her bra down, exposing her breasts and erect nipples. Randall kissed her passionately one more time before sliding his arms underneath her and hoisting her from the couch. He carried her to the bedroom, being careful not to bump her head against the walls or doorframes.
They made love several times throughout the night. Ellie was surprised at how soft and gentle Randall was, never rushing and always making sure to please her first before satisfying himself. Despite the love making Ellie found that the time afterwards was even more gratifying. Randall held her in his muscular arms putting Ellie at peace and giving her that secure feeling once again. It was right then and there that Ellie knew she loved him.
NINE
The scream came out with blood curdling ferocity. Unlike her speech it was clear and sharp. Abby guessed that a more primitive section of her brain controlled her raw emotions, a section left undamaged by the accident giving her full ability to vocalize her terror. The room was dark, almost pitch black save for the rogue beams of moonlight that had managed to find their way through the branches of the trees unobstructed. They filtered through the window casting eerie shadows that refused to lie dormant. Abby reached above her trying desperately to grab the headboard just out of reach. Several times she thought her fingers had found the edge, only to have them slip once again. Her fingers were numb to the touch, making it difficult to use her hands without assistance from her eyes. At last she latched on to the headboard, and utilizing all her might managed to pull herself into a sitting position. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for something that she could not have possibly seen. Abby could feel her heart pounding inside her chest.
The door to her room stood open. She focused her eyes and peered into the darkness beyond, scanning the hallway for any sign of movement. Usually Jack left the hallway light on, but tonight the overhead lamps were shrouded in darkness. Something lurched or hunched in the shadows. It sat unmoving, and without motion it may as well have been invisible, blending into the darkness like a chameleon. It was small, that much Abby could tell, but its lack of size did nothing to alleviate the terror that welled up from deep inside of her, threatening to destroy her last shred of sanity.
“Oohs dere?”
There was no answer. The shadow was content to sit motionless and silent, at least for the time being. Abby’s mind raced. She was loosing her sanity; there was no other explanation. Her fears had been welling up inside of her ever since they had come to Talcott Manor. This was nothing but a figment of her imagination, an optical illusion of the shadows made real by the horror in her head. Abby rubbed her eyes willing the nightmare she was experiencing to vanish into the shadows from where it came. When she opened them the shadow was gone. A flood or relief washed through her. God Abby you have to get a grip on yourself, you can’t loose your mind, it’s the only thing you have left. She breathed deeply, calming herself. Once again she scanned the room and the hallway beyond. Nothing.
And then her heart exploded from her chest. It wasn’t gone. It had moved. No, no this can’t be happening. It’s in your mind Abby she told herself over and over. This is the nightmare that a schizophrenic must go through, imagining things that weren’t there. But it had moved, she was sure of it. When she had closed her eyes the shadow was crouched by the wall in the hallway, now it sat just outside her room, half concealed by the doorframe.
“Wah do ooh wan froom ee?”
There was no answer. The thing sat unmoving, peering at Abby from the darkness. I’m dreaming, that’s all, it’s just a nightmare. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to wake up. when she opened them it would be morning, her sheets would be soaked with sweat and sunlight would be streaming in from the window illuminating the room and washing away her fears.
She opened her eyes to complete darkness.
Panic struck her, she could not wake up from this nightmare. Where was it? She couldn’t locate it in the darkness but she knew it was there, watching and waiting, for what she didn’t know. Then she saw it, crouched in the shadows sitting idly in the corner of her room. It moved only when she wasn’t watching. She would not make that mistake again. She steeled herself with steady resolve. If this thing were to harm her it would have to do so while she watched, she was not content to close her eyes and let i
t attack her while she slept. The thing moved silently, heading toward her with jerky steps, seeming to lurch forward every time it’s foot hit the floor. Her theory about it moving only when unwatched shattered with the first stride.
Abby’s terror overtook her. She rolled off the opposite side of the bed, hitting the floor with a bone-jarring thud. Her jaw struck the hardwood sending a mountain of pain throughout her entire body, at least the parts still capable of feeling. She pulled herself along the floor, the instinct for survival overcoming all else. Her nails dug into the flooring straining for a handhold, scratching and slipping on the slick surface. She pulled herself forward an inch at a time; with each heave she heard the thing behind her, closing the distance with ease. It produced a sloshing sound as if it were walking on wet carpet. At last Abby reached the corner. With nowhere else to go she forced herself to turn over, placing her back against the adjoining walls, and there she waited.
It stopped about five feet from her, looking her up and down with eyes that glowed white in the darkness.
“ Abby.” It said.
It began to move forward once again. It was then that Abby lost consciousness.
Darrow found her the next morning, still sitting on the floor and propped up against the corner. At first he thought she was dead. Her catatonic state was so deep that she stared straight ahead not blinking and barely breathing. He immediately traversed the room and plopped down beside her, checking her wrist frantically for a pulse. To his relief he found one, it was barely perceptible but it was there. He shook her gently.
“Abby baby. Wake up baby. Come on honey wake up.” When she didn’t respond he shook her harder. “Come on Abby, wake up. Wake up damn it!”
He shouted directly in her ear to no avail, she was unaware of his presence. Darrow raised his hand preparing to strike her, to make her pay attention to him. Instead he took a deep breath, calming himself again. When he was composed he marched downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a large glass pitcher from one of the cupboards. He opened the freezer and withdrew a plastic ice tray, twisting it to separate the cubes from the plastic. The ice gave way with a crackle and one of the cubes jumped out of the tray and slid across the floor infuriating him. He sighed and calmed himself once again. Taking care of Abby was beginning to try his patience. He plopped the rest of the cubes into the pitcher listening to them plink against the glass, and then he filled the pitcher with water. This ought to do the trick he thought to himself. He headed out of the kitchen and back up the stairs to Abby’s room. She had not moved. He knelt beside her again.
“Come on Abby, wake up.” He whispered softly, again to no avail. “Suit yourself,” Darrow said and then proceeded to dump the contents of the pitcher on her head.
The icy water jolted Abby back to consciousness causing her to bump her head against the corner walls creating a thud that reverberated around the room and down the hall. She looked around the room frantically, trying to get her bearings. Her eyes focused on Darrow.
“Wah hawpin?”
“You zoned out on me baby. I couldn’t wake you so I gave you your morning shower.”
The freezing water stung Abby’s skin and caused her nightgown to cling to her body. She let out a whimper and tried vainly to pull the sticky nightgown away from her chest, sobbing and shivering.
“Come on baby, let’s get you out of that wet gown and into some warm clothes.” He grabbed Abby underneath her armpits and hoisted her up with a loud grunt, pulling her over to the bed at the same time. Her feet dragged against the ground causing the action to look like a macabre dance. Darrow plopped her down on the bed and pulled the wet nightgown over her head and then walked over to the closet to grab some clean clothes.
“I thought we would go for a walk today, along the trails behind the house just like I promised. It’s a beautiful day out there.”
He smiled cheerfully. In her current state Abby was less than enthusiastic.
When they were outside Abby’s spirits brightened, the nightmare evaporated from her mind in the warm morning sun. That was all it had been Abby convinced herself, just a horrible nightmare. Dressed in dry clothes and bathing in the bright rays of light gave her a cozy feeling and Abby relished every second of it. She had learned to enjoy the simple pleasures in life, an ability that kept her from spiraling into a deep state of depression.
Darrow walked slowly behind her pushing the chair as he went. The wheels creaked as they turned in the soft earth, begging for some grease or at least a quick spray of WD-40. The squeaking irritated Abby but Darrow seemed not to notice or maybe he just didn’t care, she wasn’t sure. She had thought about asking him to lube the wheels on several occasions but then thought better of it, afraid she might stoke his temper and sustain another beating. So she forced herself to tune out the aggravating noise.
“Isn’t it gorgeous out here baby? It’s all ours too.”
A light breeze ruffled Abby’s hair. She was glad there was wind today.
“Maybe we’ll see a pretty birdie. Would you like that honey?”
You’re not going to see any birds out here you brain-dead hick, Abby thought to herself. She hated when he talked to her condescendingly like she was a small child incapable of higher thought. He was the one who couldn’t get it through his thick skull that just because she couldn’t speak well didn’t mean she couldn’t think straight.
The trail they followed switched back and forth on itself several times making it difficult for any would be hikers to get their bearings. Dozens of other trails and paths intersected it, weaving a complex maze through the woods. Abby mapped the intricate pattern of passageways through the dense forest in her head, taking note of peculiar trees, rocks, and other landmarks that would allow her to keep her sense of direction, fearing that Darrow might get them lost if she left the navigation up to him. They had been slowly descending into the vale and Abby noticed that the trail was beginning to flatten out, indicating that they were approaching Myer’s Creek. The path made a sharp left, turning them eastbound. As they rounded the bend a giant tree came into view. Abby was awestruck by the magnificent sight. The white pine stood nearly 150 feet tall and was probably eight feet in diameter at the trunk. Even Darrow seemed impressed by the goliath standing before them.
“Well I’ll be damned, that’s the biggest tree I’ve ever seen.”
He wheeled Abby over to the big tree where she traced her fingers up and down its thick bark. Being an amateur botany enthusiast, Abby estimated that the tree had to be between 200 to 400 years old. The rest of the trees in the woods were no more than thirty to fifty years of age, having been logged when the area was last clear cut for timber harvest, but for some reason the big tree had been spared. Abby could only guess as to why it had not been felled along with the rest of the trees. Her mind raced with excitement as she thought that this tree could have been a sapling about the time Christopher Columbus was discovering the Americas. Now it stood before them in grand fashion, a natural monument to the history of the Pacific Northwest. They stood for a few minutes more, admiring the grandeur of the big tree before Darrow grew bored and continued them on their way. Abby would have been content to spend the entire day there, but Darrow’s attention span never lasted more than a couple of minutes.
At last Abby could hear the babbling current of Myer’s creek. They descended one more knoll before the creek came into view, marking the borderline of their property. Abby estimated that they had traveled about three quarters of a mile from Talcott Manor. An aged footbridge spanned the creek to the opposite bank where a lone trail disappeared into the woods beyond, heading upward towards Saltar’s Point. Abby wondered if the bridge would be solid enough to support their weight if they were to attempt to cross it. Several boards were missing, having rotted in the damp climate and fallen into the creek below. The handrails, if there ever were any, had long since disappeared making the narrow bridge even more perilous.
“Well, this is it sweetheart, end of the line.”
<
br /> Abby had no complaints that Darrow would not try to take them across, she had already been soaked once today and was in no hurry to experience the frigid water of the mountain stream. An ear-piercing caw broke the silence sending a rush of euphoria through Abby’s body. On the other side of the stream the woods were teeming with life. Sparrows, blue jays, crows and other birds perched high in the branches, creating a cacophony of noise that was music to Abby’s ears. Butterflies fluttered, and bees flew from flower to flower, gathering pollen. Gray squirrels hopped from tree limb to tree limb searching for pinecones and acorns to store for the winter, their bushy tails twitching vigorously. Darrow seemed oblivious to the abundance of wildlife that sat just across the small creek but Abby was aware of the strikingly obvious contrast in animal activity. Although they came right to the water’s edge, not a single creature dared to cross over, a primitive instinct warning them of the woods that surrounded Talcott Manor. It seemed that Myer’s Creek not only formed their property line, it was a boundary. A boundary no woodland creatures dared to cross.
TEN
Darrow sat with his head in his hands. The screaming anguish in his head had returned with a vengeance, pounding inside his skull with relentless ferocity. The boiler room was hot, making his skin flush and his pores dilated. Beads of sweat rolled down his face and dripped silently from his chin, congregating in small puddles on the cement floor below. The whisky was burning through his system, heightening his emotions. He sat on the edge of his bed, a small cot really, consisting of a stained featherbed mattress sitting atop a rusted box spring balanced precariously on four cinder blocks. The boiler was acting up again, pinging and clanging incessantly, driving him up the wall and making it impossible to control the thoughts that spun aimlessly inside his head. Darrow clutched his ears in his hands, trying fruitlessly to drown out the relentless clamor.
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