Slithers

by Mortensen, WW

  The house lights would be visible soon.

  Underfoot, gravel crunched. Tobe considered stepping from the drive to walk silently on the grass, but found the gloom pressing the path too daunting. The driveway felt secure, and with the rain masking their approach, they could afford to make a little noise. He wondered about their use of stealth; sneaking up on his cousin under a mantle of darkness felt deceitful. Yet they’d discussed this already. Avoiding detection was essential.

  The driveway plateaued as expected, becoming a turnaround. At the top, the Henderson home materialised, its windows lit with a warm glow and its exterior lights blazing into the darkness.

  The expansive split-level house oozed class. Its façade was modern rustic, with a cross-gabled roof and a mix of stone and red cedar siding. Beyond the glare of the external lights, in an area adjacent to the lighted turnaround, Tobe saw a cluster of slate-grey shadows, perhaps half a dozen vehicles in ordered rows. Barely audible above the rain, bass lines of the dance music Teesh favoured radiated through the walls and into the night.

  Someone was home…

  Lisa…

  “Sounds like the party’s in full swing!” Tobe said with a smile. They had drawn to a halt near to the treeline in order to observe the house and its surroundings. He made to move.

  Rachel grasped his arm. “Vigilance, remember?” she said. Rain streamed down her face.

  Tobe nodded. Keeping to the driveway’s edge, they crept to the top of the turnaround, which was lined by in-ground LED lights.

  With every step, Tobe’s excitement faded. Anticipation turned to unease.

  “Why can’t we hear anybody?” Rachel said.

  They paused, crouched in deep shadow only metres from the front of the house.

  Tobe cocked his head, listening. At the very least, Trooper, Teesh’s Siberian husky, should have sensed them by now, but he heard no barking. At this short distance, even accounting for the rain, the noise of party-goers should have travelled to them as easily as the dull bass thump of music. That there was only silence from Trooper—and no whooping or laughter or even a hint of conversation—was concerning.

  Though hidden by the angle with which they viewed the house, the front door stood only metres away, just beyond the vine-covered trellis framing the entry porch. Tobe’s muscles tensed; they wanted to fire, wanted to launch his body at the door. He could make it, and he could make it there quickly, could ring the doorbell and be safely inside in a matter of seconds.

  No.

  Now wasn’t the time to abandon stealth; the need for caution was more crucial than ever.

  “Let’s go round the back, to the pool,” Tobe said. “Stick to the shadows.”

  He took Rachel gently by the hand, and they stepped from the turnaround onto the manicured front lawn, which lay on the opposite side of the house to where the shadowed vehicles were clustered. They moved in a tight arc, hunched against the slashing rain, avoiding the various in-ground LEDs and the harsh interplay of light and shadow. They came to a wrought-iron gate that separated the front yard from the back and crouched beside it. From here, Tobe identified two potted cacti that lay beyond the gate at the end of a paved path. The plants were large enough to conceal the two of them, and from behind them, both the rear patio and the pool area could be observed. If the party had moved outside, it would be there.

  The well-oiled gate opened soundlessly. The path was unlit. They crept in darkness to the pots and ducked behind them.

  The pool area was brightly lit and beautifully landscaped. Rain soaked the scattered deck chairs, as well as the towels draped over their backs. Underneath the timber deck patio, covered and unaffected by the downpour, wall mounted sconces threw soft light across comfortable lounges covered in tastefully striped fabric. A teak outdoor table, a barbecue grill, and a stone pizza oven filled the remainder of the space.

  No-one was outside.

  “They must be inside,” Rachel whispered. “That’s where the music is coming from.”

  Although the area seemed deserted and they were masked in shadow, Tobe got the sudden impression they were being watched.

  Rapidly, he glanced about, scanning his surroundings. He performed a full turn.

  He saw nothing, and no-one.

  He cursed his jumpiness. Maybe he’d been mistaken.

  Or maybe not. “We need to get out of the rain,” he said in a low voice.

  Rachel nodded. Drops of water fell from her glasses and the tip of her nose. “Let’s be quick. Scottie will be worried.”

  They entered the house by way of the patio, via an unlocked and open set of bi-fold doors. The doors led into a darkened family room. They left the lights off and made their way through the shadows.

  The music thumped from deeper inside the house. The temptation to call out—to raise his voice over the top of it and announce their presence—was overwhelming, but Tobe was concerned that other things might respond. For that reason, he stayed silent. This understanding passed unspoken between them, and Rachel held her tongue, too.

  Diffused light spilled into the family room from an adjoining part of the house, illuminating refined furnishings and reclaimed timber flooring, as well as a full-sized billiard table that took centre stage in the semi-darkness. They moved towards the source of light and into the kitchen. Tobe felt bad about dripping water everywhere. His shoes squelched.

  The kitchen’s bright fluorescent lights were on, showcasing granite benchtops and veneer wood cabinetry; again, tastefully decorated. Aunt Mary had an eye for interior design.

  On the floor sat two dog bowls, one filled with dry food, the other, water. Trooper wasn’t in the kitchen, and if he was aware of the newcomers, he was unconcerned—he had yet to appear, either to greet Tobe and Rachel, or to defend his territory.

  Cut into the kitchen’s ceiling was a skylight. A large, shuttered window framed the adjoining deck and pool area.

  Next to the stainless steel French door refrigerator, mounted on the wall, was a cordless phone.

  Rachel lifted the phone from its cradle, held it to her ear. Her face screwed up and she returned it to its cradle.

  From here, they ventured past a formal dining area and into the living room. On separate end tables, two buffet lamps cast gentle light, giving the room a warm, inviting feel. A pair of soft leather lounges sat upon more timber flooring, and a stone fire place took pride of place at the southern wall. A canted bay window on the north-eastern wall overlooked the turnaround at the front of the house. It was in this room that the music originated, by way of an MP3 player tethered to a wireless sound system. It was too loud for comfort—right now, Tobe needed all his senses. He crossed to the MP3 player and lowered the volume in increments. In moments there was silence.

  He stood there with Rachel, frozen, listening. No sounds of note, other than the rain. No-one came to investigate the music’s departure, human or otherwise.

  After a minute, they exited the living room and from there searched the remainder of the house.

  Room to room they moved, swiftly, but with purpose. Their search was thorough. They started on the second level, which contained only the master bedroom, a bathroom, and a breakout area, and then moved on to the remainder of the bedrooms downstairs. Some rooms were lit, but most lay in darkness. They left them as they found them, and in the unlit rooms, they cleansed the shadows with sweeping flashlights and probed every darkened corner. They encountered no-one, and no-thing. Unfinished drinks on coasters in the living room and overnight bags in each of the bedrooms indicated a small party was—had been—in progress. But the house was deserted.

  “Where the hell is everyone, Tobe?” Rachel asked.

  “If only I knew, Rach,” he said. A lump formed in his throat.

  Why aren’t you here, Lisa?

  “Maybe they’ve ducked out for pizza.”

  “They’d get it delivered.”

  “I could do with pizza now.”

  They were done with the house proper. Onl
y the garage remained.

  “We’ll search the garage and then return for Scottie and Sarah,” Tobe said.

  “What then?” Rachel asked.

  “I guess we regroup. Sarah needs support, maybe something stronger if she’s slipped into shock. Above all, she needs rest.”

  “We all do.”

  “We’ll also scrounge up supplies and resources, anything useful.”

  “Why? Teesh and the others will be back soon. That might strike them as odd.”

  Tobe didn’t reply.

  “You don’t think they’re coming back.”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “But you think we’ll be here a while.”

  “We should be prepared, is all.”

  “We’ll have to see out the night here.”

  “I think that seeing out the night—and keeping everyone safe and attended to—should be our short term goal. We’ll wait here for Teesh and the others to return.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Everything will be clearer in the rational light of day,” Tobe said. “But first things first; let’s check the garage.”

  21

  Tobe led Rachel down the darkened hall. The beams of their flashlights jagged up and down.

  At the end of the hall, they were met with a closed door. Tobe knew that beyond it lay the two-car garage. He tried the handle. The door was unlocked. Before pushing it open, he glanced over his shoulder, back at Rachel, as though ensuring she was still with him.

  She put a hand on his forearm. “Hey… do you smell that?” she said.

  Tobe drew a deep breath, tested the air. He’d grown accustomed to the unpleasant odour permeating the house—the same smell they had identified outside when they had exited the car, and also earlier in the night, along Day Dawn—but Rachel seemed to be suggesting something stronger, something worse. He couldn’t detect it.

  Indicating this with a shrug, Tobe awaited instruction.

  Rachel removed her hand from his arm. Jutting her chin at the handle, she gave him the go ahead.

  With a nod, Tobe gently pushed the door. It swept inwards with a creak that made him grimace.

  Not unusual for a garage, an oily waft puffed out. The lights were off, and Tobe dispersed the shadows with back and forth sweeps of the Maglite.

  One vehicle was parked inside: Teesh’s yellow Jeep Wrangler. Rows of stainless steel shelves, neatly filled with polycarbonate crates, lined the walls. Various tools and equipment hung on a pegboard. Wall-mounted racks held two bikes.

  The space was clean and organised and otherwise empty.

  Tobe turned to Rachel. She had a relieved, satisfied look on her face.

  He smiled faintly. “Let’s get Scottie and Sarah.”

  22

  In the laundry, Tobe found a basket of recently-washed and neatly-folded clothes. He helped himself to a polo shirt and pair of jeans. He wasn’t as tall or as solid as Uncle David but the garments fit okay. He lobbed the wet items into the tub and joined Scottie in the kitchen.

  “Here, try these,” Tobe said. He tossed Scottie a towel, a dry shirt, and a pair of shorts.

  “They’ll swim on me,” Scottie said, but proceeded to change nonetheless. Tobe delivered Scottie’s garments to the tub, too, and returned to the kitchen.

  Looking like a kid playing dress-up—his oversized shirt hanging low and his shorts just as baggy—Scottie emerged from the walk-in pantry with a packet of crisps in hand. “Sarah’s out like a light,” he said. His drying hair was neatly slicked back. “Rachel’s having a shower, and said she’ll get some sleep herself. Sarah borrowed some of Teesh’s clothes.” He pried the crisps open and withdrew a handful. “Sea salt and balsamic vinegar—they’re stale, but edible.” He offered them to Tobe.

  Tobe shook his head. Although not hungry, he was thirsty. He opened the refrigerator and a waft of sour air—suggestive of off milk, or fruit—hit him in the face. His stomach rolled. He retrieved a bottle of water, took a swig. It tasted oddly metallic.

  “The external lights are off?” Tobe said.

  “I shut them down when you were getting changed,” Scottie said. “All the doors are closed and locked, including the bi-folds to the patio. Windows are shut, too.”

  They had agreed to see out the night awake, both to await Teesh’s return, and to keep a general eye on things until dawn. They had no idea when that would be. The hands of Tobe’s watch indicated it was after midnight. His phone display suggested it was nearer to 10:00pm. Scottie’s timepieces showed even more varied results. None could be trusted.

  They’d divided the house into two zones. Scottie would watch the rear, Tobe the front. It was a big house on an even bigger property, and with the girls out of action, the two of them had plenty to cover. They planned to conduct regular patrols and sweep each room periodically. Through every window, they’d scan the grounds.

  Crumpling the empty bag of crisps, licking the tips of his fingers, Scottie said, “I guess there’s no time like the present—I’ll start my first sweep.” He held Tobe’s gaze for a moment, and opened his mouth as though to say something further. He said nothing, and instead, moved to leave.

  Before he could exit, Tobe suggested they scrounge a few supplies. He wasn’t concerned with how it might look should Teesh and the others return home. Scottie seemed unbothered by this, too. For the next few minutes, they collected all the overnight bags owned by Teesh’s various guests, including all the keys to the vehicles out front. They placed everything on the table in the formal dining room. Other useful items—torches, batteries, water—were also placed here for ease of access.

  Tobe found nothing of Lisa’s. No overnight bag, no car keys. Maybe she hadn’t arrived yet, or maybe she’d already come and gone.

  Tobe wondered if this was good news or bad.

  Where are you, Lisa?

  When they had finished their task, Scottie told Tobe he’d depart to commence his first sweep.

  Tobe looked at his friend. “Stay safe.”

  Scottie smiled, but only slightly. They bumped fists, and Scottie headed for the back of the house.

  Returning to the kitchen, Tobe retrieved his Maglite, a knife from the block sitting atop the marble bench, and the bottle of metallic-tasting water and proceeded into the living room. There, he sank into the window-seat. From here he had an unobstructed view of the front porch. Through the trellis, the turnaround in front of the house was visible. Should anyone—or anything—approach from this direction, up the driveway, and from there proceed to the front door or skirt around to the back, he’d have advance warning.

  For the time being, he saw no-one and no-thing through the bay window. Nothing prowled the manicured lawn, the landscaped garden, or the driveway. Beyond his ghostly reflection in the glass, the only presence was the lashing rain.

  Tobe took his phone from his pocket. It was relatively dry, despite the earlier bucketing. The battery was running low. He drafted another text to Lisa, hit send. He wasn’t surprised it failed to deliver. He dropped the phone on the side table.

  The rain fell in a rhythmic lullaby, heavy, constant. It reminded Tobe of distant, breaking surf. It calmed him.

  A noise: a slithering sound, from down the hall.

  Tobe straightened, alerted to the fact he’d closed his eyes, maybe dozed off; in fact, he was certain he had, because for an instant, he was aware of the tail end of a dream—an image, a message, just beyond his grasp. Then it was gone, its nature and intent unclear and beyond retrieval.

  The noise came again, not slithering but soft footsteps, padding down the hall. Barefoot and svelte, Rachel rounded the corner into the living room and glided lightly across the floor. Her recently washed hair was damp but neatly brushed. The cut above her eye had been redressed. A man’s T-shirt—again, Uncle David’s—hung to her mid-thigh. She wore nothing else. She flopped onto one of the leather sofas and tucked her legs beneath her. The shirt rode up as she did.

  Tobe averted h
is eyes. His cheeks flushed warm. “Can’t sleep?” he said.

  Rachel shook her head. “I mean, I’m tired and all, but after what happened…” She was on the verge of tears.

  “Hey, no need to explain,” Tobe said. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about poor Brad. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “No, of course he didn’t.” Tobe wanted to comfort her, felt he should go to her, but sensed she also needed space. “I don’t think it’s hit me yet… not fully.”

  “We’re all in shock.”

  “How’s Sarah?”

  “She’s in Teesh’s room. She managed to drift off. She’s still asleep.”

  “What happened… it took a lot out of her.”

  Rachel gazed out the window, at the rain. For several seconds no words passed between them, and Rachel seemed to relax. In the lamp’s soft, warm glow, she looked almost at peace. Tobe figured she was anything but.

  Apparently feeling his stare, she met his eyes. “Where do you think we are, Tobe?”

  Tobe baulked. “Where?”

  “We’re not where we’re meant to be. We’re not in our rightful place.”

  Tobe opened his mouth, but could form no answer.

  “We’re not home.”

  Slowly, Tobe nodded. “It feels like we’re a long way from home, doesn’t it.”

  Rachel broke eye contact, turning again to the window.

  After a moment, Tobe said, “Back at the station, above all the commotion… did you hear what Ressler said?”

  “Bits and pieces,” Rachel said. “It didn’t make sense.”

  “He claimed we had ‘unfinished business’. You remember that?”

  “Ressler was sick. He was rambling.”

  “Maybe. But do you remember?”

  Rachel nodded. “He said we had unfinished business… from the road.”

  “What do you think he meant by that?” Tobe said.

  “I can only assume he was talking about the accident,” Rachel said.

  Tobe nodded. “We crossed paths on the road—he was in the truck. Both doors to the cab were open, remember?”