Monica finally looked at him, but only for an instant, then she turned her attention back to the roof. “Yeah. I try to cry, but she makes me sleepy.”
Monica paused. Sully couldn’t remember ever seeing her so focused on something. She almost seemed mesmerized by this task she had given herself.
“I see her come out of my closet,” she said after a long silence.
“Your closet?” Sully said. “So why are you watching the roof?”
“Because I look in my closet before I go to bed, but she’s never there. She comes through the ceiling. Then she comes out of my closet.”
It was impressive logic for a child her age. But he hated to see her so serious. Sully pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “There aren’t any monsters that come through the ceiling, baby. And you don’t have to worry. Daddy and Anna wouldn’t ever let anything hurt you.”
Sully put her out in front of him. Then she whispered, “She doesn’t want to hurt me, Daddy. She wants to hurt you.”
Sully stroked her hair. “Well, Anna will protect me,” he said.
#
The Jacobson’s had not been able to have a child on their own. That had made Sully all the more of a gift for them. His childhood had been a special place: birthday parties, bountiful Christmases, trips every summer to places like Silver Dollar City and Disney World. That may have been why, even before the accident, Sully had never felt the urge to move away from Little Axe, the small town tickle, get as far away from here as you can, that so many intelligent people from little places feel. Ironically, many of his students felt that urge, and as their prep class teacher, he was the one to help them satisfy it.
Monica’s childhood, to the Jacobson’s, had been a continuation of Sully’s. And now they had even more time and wealth. His dad had sold off most of his farmland and invested the money. Most of what he didn’t sell was leased for generous stipends to oil contractors. What was left were the few acres that surrounded the house. None of the animals were for economics now. There were a few ducks on the pond, two dogs, five cats and two horses. In the backyard were a jungle gym and a tire swing. There was an above ground pool for the summers, and they were thinking about an in-ground pool in a few years for when Monica would be old enough to host swim parties.
Inside, Monica had her own room, complete with television, DVD player, and the latest video game system. There were toys in that room that Sully doubted had even been played with, though Monica did try to play with them all.
But the room had yet to be Monica’s favorite place, not with Grandma and Grandpa with the time, energy and desire to play outside with her. Sully’s dad regularly sat her on a horse that he would walk around the pasture. Monica loved to participate in feeding the animals, especially the kitties, which were kin to the one she had at home. There was always someone to push her on the swings or play whatever game suited her fancy at the moment.
His mom had picked Monica up from daycare earlier Tuesday afternoon. When Sully and Anna came out for dinner at eight, they found the three of them exhausted, sitting in the living room, watching Cartoon Network. They had already eaten, but had saved food for Sully and Anna. For Sully, it was pot roast and vegetables. For Anna, it was a wrapped Salad.
Sully watched as Monica started to drift off on the couch between her grandparents, eyes slowly closing and opening, her head bobbing occasionally.
“Mom, you want to just keep her tonight,” Sully said from his place on the loveseat next to Anna.
“Of course I do,” his mom said, delighted, and then got up. “But I think I better get her in the bathtub.”
Sully looked at Monica’s dirty face and laughed. “I think you’re right.”
“Come on, little one,” his mom said.
Monica seemed to find new energy. “No,” she whined. “I don’t want to take a bath yet.”
“Mon, do as your grandma says,” Sully interjected, knowing he would be the only one willing to give her the stern words that would get her up.
“Okay,” Monica said, disheartened.
Sully’s dad laughed. He turned and tickled Monica and said, “You have to go get cleaned up before the Sandman comes.”
Sully’s eyes shot to Anna. He had told her about the sand monster conversation he had had with Monica the day before. But now Anna seemed oblivious to most of her surroundings. She had been in her writing place before they had come out and had neglected to eat since before noon. Now it was the large bowl of salad on the TV tray that held her interest, not what Sully’s dad had said or Sully’s reaction to the words.
His mom took Monica out, as his dad switched the channel from the cartoon to ESPN.
With his mom and Monica cleared out, Sully asked, “Dad, do you always say that to Monica?”
Turning away from the television to Sully, his dad returned, “Do I always say what, Sully?”
“About the Sandman.”
His dad thought for a little while, a concerned look on his face. Sully wondered if he had picked up something in Sully’s tone. “Well, yeah, Sully. I guess I do say that a lot. Why?”
Sully held back for a few seconds. Seeing how troubled the old man looked already, he wasn’t about to tell him that he was accidentally scaring his granddaughter, that she thought the Sandman was a female monster that came through the roof at night.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Monica just—”
Sully stopped when he heard Anna gasp. He turned to see her holding her stomach, a pained expression on her face. She then let out a beastly burping sound, before she leaned over and filled the salad bowl with brownish-orange vomit. She went over the arm of the loveseat and then staggered out the back door. Sully followed, and when Anna hunched over, he took the back of her hair in his hands, before she forced up little burps of fluid.
After she stopped and sat back on the porch, Sully noticed his dad standing just inside the screen door. He looked horrified, and Sully understood why. He had never heard a sound like that come from a person, nor had he ever seen someone retch so hard. He turned his attention back to Anna.
“You all right, babe?” he asked.
Anna, her face deathly pale, even for Anna, nodded, then she said, “There was meat mixed in the salad.” She paused. Then her voice almost sounded ashamed. “I was hungry. I didn’t check it first.”
Sully heard his dad leave.
Anna actually raised her weary face toward the door. “Go take care of that,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”
But she didn’t look or sound okay. Sully didn’t want to leave her there, never having seen her the slightest bit sick before, Anna usually so healthy with her soy drinks and aerobic exercise. But he knew she was right. He had to go. His dad was pissed. He was not going to have kind words for the woman whose stubborn views sometimes led her to cross the line between over-concern and sheer bitchhood. Sully had a few choice words for the woman, himself, but knew that neither he nor his dad should be allowed to explode in front of Monica.
Sully found them both in their bedroom. They were just standing there, to his surprise. His dad looked at him, and Sully thought he understood. The old man was waiting for him. Sully went into the bathroom, where Monica was sitting in a tub that was filling with bubbles and water.
“How do we turn off the water?” he asked.
“Hot water first,” Monica replied.
“Good.”
Sully turned the vent on to drown out the outside noise, but he left the door open. Argument in the other room or not, he felt more comfortable with it open. He walked into the room, where his parents still stood. By his mother’s angry red face, something had been said.
“Mom, how could you do that?” Sully asked, quietly, forcing down the urge to yell. The question assumed that she had done it intentionally. But Sully thought that assumption safe. He thought of the effort she must have went through to hide the little chunks of meat within the mixture.
His mom didn’t try to deny it. She spoke in an angry, confident vo
ice. “Because you love that woman, Sully. And we do too.”
“And what the hell does that have to do with what you’ve done?” his father rushed out. His voice was stern, but not loud.
His mother glared at his dad with a feverish spite. “I think it’s obvious.”
Both Sully and his dad stared at her in confusion. His dad shrugged as he shook his head.
His mother said to them as if they were idiots, “She’s going to have Sully’s baby someday. She can’t possibly carry a child if she doesn’t have meat in her body.”
Now it was disbelief they looked at her with. Sully spoke to it first. “One, that’s not true. Anna’s diet is probably going to make her outlive us all. Two, I assure you that she wouldn’t be the first vegetarian to deliver a healthy baby.”
“Not to mention, it’s not your place to monitor her diet,” Sully’s dad added.
His mom’s eyes filled with tears. She folded her arms in front of her and began to pout. Sully didn't doubt her good intentions, and he believed her when she said she loved Anna. It had been hard for her at first, Anna not like any woman Sully had ever dated, or like any woman that had come to this town. But she had seen the way Anna treated Sully, the way she looked at him, doted over him, and that she loved Monica too. All that had won her over. But Sully just couldn’t believe how naïve and controlling his mother could be.
“Sully,” he heard Anna’s frail voice call.
Sully left them and went to the living room, where Anna lay on the couch. He knelt down beside her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Anna nodded. “Can we go home?” she asked.
“Of course,” Sully responded. “Just let me get Mon.”
Sully got up, but before he could leave, Anna whispered again.
“No.”
“What?”
Anna took a second, like conversing was hard for her now, and then she said, “You told her she was staying. You can’t use her that way.”
Sully thought about what Anna was saying. He did want to take Monica with him to punish his mom. But there was another motivation. He had to show the woman that she would not be allowed to be close minded and still be a big part of his daughter’s life.
As if she could read his mind, Anna whispered, “You turned out okay. So will Monica.”
Sully looked down on her, shocked by this woman’s intuition. How did she always know what he needed? How did she always have the right answer, whether or not a question was asked? Sully kissed her right on the mouth that she had just vomited from. He walked back and saw that his mother was with Monica. She was helping her wash her hair, though Monica could do it herself. He was amazed at how calm his mother looked, a pleasant smile on her face, as if nothing had happened, as if she had not just done something she should feel deeply ashamed of.
His dad was in the master bedroom still. He was sitting on the bed, his head down. He lifted his head when Sully walked in. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone exasperated. “Tell Anna.”
Sully shook his head. “Not your fault.”
His dad nodded, the guilt still apparent.
A little while later, he and Anna were in the Taurus, Sully driving, Anna’s head on his lap.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t stand the thought of dead flesh in my mouth.”
“No,” Sully said, amazed that, of the two people who had apologized to him, neither was the one who had caused all the trouble. Sully was about to counter her apology further, just as he had done with his father, but then Anna moved her head over to his crotch. She bit down lightly, teasingly.
She then said, “Live flesh, on the other hand.”
By the time they got home, Anna was doing much better.
#
That night, he awoke, thinking he had heard something. He knew the coma men had been there, in his dreams, much earlier in the night.
Sully lay there for a little while, then heard something again. It was just a thumping sound, something moving around. Very groggy, he couldn’t localize where it was coming from. He remembered that Monica was at his parents’ house, and that made him less worried.
The sand monster, he thought, then went back to sleep.
Chapter Four
Where had he been? The gray interstate stretched out in front of him, a reminder that this was reality. But where had he just been?
It was March now. The cold days were dwindling away, fewer and further between, soon to disappear into a rainy but warm Oklahoma spring. Barbecues everywhere. Permission slips for kids missing school to go to track meets. Seniors finding it hard to focus, anticipating the end of their high school careers as the days rolled by.
Monica was in the backseat, plugging away at the Game Boy Grandma and Grandpa had gotten her for Christmas, indifferent to him and the rest of the world around her.
Something was not right. Something disjointed, like being stoned. Everything was there. The road. Monica. His car. And so was he. But why did he feel so out of place? Where had he been just been?
It had been the trance, the usual place brought on by the road. The usual strange logic had been there. But there was something more, something he could intuitively sense and was supposed to remember. His mind felt like it could grasp it. It felt like it was coming on. But the road would stop him before he got there.
No, what’s there is outside of the limits, not to be grasped. You don’t get it until it’s time.
No, he couldn’t go there. But he couldn’t be here either. He couldn’t be completely connected to either place. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to do anything? Was this just some stupid trick of his mind, a meaningless feeling brought on by some minor chemical incident in his brain? Remember! something screamed out in his head. He had to remember where he had been. Not just the trance, but bigger somehow.
The semi’s deafening horn blew from behind him, and suddenly he was where he was. He was on the road, completely. Monica was in the backseat, unaware of the imminent danger. In his rearview mirror was the giant, beastly piece of machinery. Close. Too close. Closing in on them. About to overtake them. There was no time to react. He saw the semi come so close that it looked like they were to be swallowed by it. He actually heard the clank of metal and then the crunching sound of the larger vehicle overtaking the smaller one, like a predator wolf coming down on a hapless rabbit, only with the terrible sounds of metal being distorted. He actually saw the back of his car cave, saw Monica being pushed forward at him, and then they were sliding, at the control of the semi’s momentum.
The semi took them to the side, into the grassy median. Across the median was oncoming traffic, several vehicles, all seemingly oblivious to what was approaching. There was the feeling of release, and the semi in his mirror was moving away. But the Taurus had not stopped, and it was not in his control. They were airborne now, approaching the wrong side of the road.
Sully was barely able to catch a glimpse of the pickup that struck the front of his car, spinning it around, still in the air, and then there was the discoloration of the circle, all things blending together. Contact. The car landed. Green. Then more contact, sending him forward. White coming at his face, then smothering him. The hissing sound.
Sully reflexively moved to the side to escape from the airbag. He undid his seatbelt, opened his door and rolled out of his car, landing in the grass. Quickly, he scoped his surroundings. They had stopped in a field, clear on the other side of the road, where the truck had sent them. Back on the median was the truck, its driver, a panic-stricken, large man, was just getting out. Up ahead, pulling off to the side of the road, was the pickup that had struck them. Other vehicles were stopping.
Monica. His heart raced. He didn’t want to know. Not if the worst had happened. But he had to find out. Because he was her father. She was his life.
The Taurus didn’t look so bad. The back was smashed in, but not to the point that it would have squashed what was in the backseat.
But S
ully wasn’t looking in the backseat. And that was what he had to do.
He couldn’t hear her. He had to look in the backseat. He had to force himself.
Sully tried the backdoor, but to no avail. It was smashed to the point where the opening mechanisms were irrelevant.
He allowed his eyes to drift a little to the place where the window used to be. He didn’t want to believe what his mind was telling him. He didn’t want to think of what that shattered glass and the glass from the rear window could have done to his daughter.
Remember! screamed out in his mind. He didn’t have to do all this. He didn’t have to find Monica. He didn’t have to think of how he would help her or how he would deal with the other alternative, the only other alternative there was, that if she wasn’t injured, she was. . .
No, he didn’t need to think of that. He just needed to remember.
But he did look. He did focus into the shrunken backseat.
And Monica was not there.
Remember! He just had to remember. And he did remember. He remembered the last time he had seen her. He remembered a clear image, the image that hadn’t registered in real time when he had first looked into the backseat.
Now, what he saw in that image was a little girl who had, for some reason, taken off her seatbelt, the strap and buckle loose on the side of her booster seat.
A woman screamed.
No, he didn’t have to look.
Remember was still there. He had remembered. He had remembered the image that told him that he was a terrible father, that he had neglected to pay attention and now the unthinkable was reality. But there was still remember. It was bigger, somehow.
But Sully did turn toward the scream. He did walk toward the road. A few steps were as far as he needed to go. Because he could see the bloody mass from there. She was just across the road, but up a little, having somewhere flown out the window. He had been a terrible father, and now she was on the road.
Remember! screamed out, in his own voice. And Sully remembered.
Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner Page 21