whither Willow?

by Peter Ponzo

  "There! There it is!" he cried.

  Liz slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a stop, partly on the shoulder of the road.

  The house was set back about thirty yards from the road. It was old and delapidated but there, at the front left corner, stood a giant willow tree, black and sinister against the moonlit sky, its branches hovering over the roof of the house. Bryan sucked his breath in a long whistle. Liz pulled off the road and turned out the remaining headlight. The willow was identical to the picture in the Gazette. The old Bourden house and the giant willow tree; it looked like an identical tree. They sat and stared for some time before Liz said, "Well, there's your willow tree. Happy?" Bryan's skin began to tingle.

  "Yes, I'm happy. Just wanted to see it - now we can go home ... I guess."

  "Don't you want to see it up close?"

  "No. We can go home now. I don't know why we came. I don't know why I wanted to see it, but I'm happy now. We can go home." He leaned back in his seat and stared blankly out the front window, his hands folded on his lap. "We can go home," he repeated.

  "Bryan? Are you all right? Anything wrong?"

  "No. We can go home. Liz, let's go home. I don't like this place. Let's go home."

  Liz shook her head and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over once, twice and stopped. She tried again, but there was only a click, nothing more.

  "I think the battery is dead," she said with a sigh.

  "Liz, try again. Please, try again." She did. There was only a click.

  "Oh God," muttered Bryan. "What now?"

  "Simple," said Liz cheerfully. "We go into that house and ask to use their phone and -"

  "Are you crazy? Remember what that guy said. The lady is a witch."

  "Bryan, he only meant that she wasn't particularly pleasant. When we tell her we've run out of gas and just want to call the service station then I'm sure she'll understand. Let's go before it gets any darker."

  Liz opened the car door and slid out. Bryan continued to stare directly out the front window, then he looked sideways just a little and saw Liz walking up the driveway. He slid down into his seat, waited for a moment then opened the door and got out. Liz was on the front porch, knocking. He waited at the end of the driveway. Maybe there was nobody home. The house was dark. Maybe there would be no answer. Then a light came on, upstairs, then another light, just beyond the door. Bryan stepped forward, one step, and saw the front door open. He saw a figure silhouetted against the light. Liz was speaking, asking to use the phone. He couldn't hear what was being said. The dark figure stepped aside and Liz entered the house. Bryan looked quickly back at the car then toward the house, then started to walk up the driveway, to the porch. The door had closed, but there was a window, a small window on the door. He peered through. Liz was in the hall, but he couldn't see the figure. Liz was talking, on the phone, he could see her lips moving. She placed the phone back on the hook, bowed slightly in the direction of an adjoining room and turned to the door. A dark figure stepped out of the shadow and Bryan held his breath. Liz bowed slightly and opened the door.

  "Thank you, Miss. We really appreciate being able to use your phone." Liz stepped out, running into Bryan. He stepped backward and stumbled against the porch railing. Liz turned to the house and said, "Thanks again," but the figure was gone and the hall light had been turned off. Bryan spun on his heel and started quickly down the porch stairs, stumbling. Liz watched him running to the car and smiled. Silly fellow she thought. Silly and superstituous. She walked to the edge of the porch and looked at the willow tree. The branches fell to the ground in a twisting, gnarled series of dark coils. She reached out and a light wind came up and the branches began to wave slowly. She touched a branch. Once ... twice ... and held her breath. Behind her she heard a noise and she turned to see a dark figure standing by the door.

  "I was ... uh, just ... thank you for the use of your phone."

  Liz turned and walked quickly down the stairs and along the driveway toward the car. The wind died down and the willow was quiet, its long moon-shadow lying sinister across the snow covered lawn.

  They waited in the car for the service truck to arrive, Liz staring at the house, Bryan low in the seat with his eyes closed. A black figure was visible on the second floor, then the light went out and the house was dark. They waited. A glow appeared in a window of the first floor, in a room next to the willow tree. It didn't seem like a light; just a shimmering glow. It grew alternately brighter and dimmer and they could see a shadowy figure, arms raised. Bryan had opened his eyes, saw the figure and began to tremble. Liz put her hand in his and they waited, staring at the figure, black against the glow. That was when they heard the noise. It sounded like a humming, growing louder. Bryan squeezed Liz's hand and they both stared in silence at the house. The humming became louder, then their car was filled with light, then a squeal, then a loud honk. Bryan jumped.

  "The service truck!" gasped Liz. "It's here!" She opened the door and slid out, blinded by the headlights of the truck behind.

  "Couldn't you pick a city street to run out of gas?" asked the man in the greasy overalls. Liz smiled prettily and the serviceman smiled back and pulled the gas can out of the back of his truck. Bryan had slid down into his seat. The light in the window had gone out.

  "We're not out of gas. The battery is dead."

  The serviceman grunted and went back to his truck, driving it next to their car, then he slid out, a length of cable in his hands. As soon as they had started the car and paid him, the serviceman left. They turned up the driveway, careful not to hit the wooden post, then backed onto the road and headed toward town. No one spoke.

  The headlights momentarily illuminated the small sign nailed to the post:

  Friends of Willow.

  CHAPTER 20

  Bryan and Liz: March, 1985

  They were at the dinner table, quietly eating. They hadn't talked about the trip down Dune Road for almost twelve hours, but Bryan’s curiosity had grown unbearable.

  "Okay Liz,” Bryan said, “tell me what she was like. The old witch on Dune Road who let you in to use the phone."

  "She wasn't an old witch. She wasn't even old ... about thirty I'd say. I told you. She came to the door, I asked to use the phone - and I did. Then I just left. That's it. No more than that."

  "But the old willow. She has one of those willows, not your ordinary willow."

  "Lots of people have willows. Nothing strange about that. Look ... let's do as we promised each other. Let's forget about the willow tree thing."

  Bryan sat back and held out his fork. "Okay Mrs. Laker. Let's forget about this willow tree thing."

  The piece of meat fell from his fork and he tried to catch it in the air, swinging his fork down and up. It caught on the tablecloth, the cloth slipped and his plate slid off the table and landed upside down on the floor. Liz jumped up, her mouth open, she stood for a moment, then she sat down.

  "Bryan! You're impossible! Look at what you've done!"

  He looked sadly at the mess on the floor and laid his fork carefully in his salad bowl.

  "Stop! Don't even try to clean it up!"

  It was too late. Bryan had stooped to clean the spilled food, hit his head on the edge of the table and fell sideways. He reached out to grab something and caught the tablecloth. It slid off the table bringing with it a platter of roast pork, two bowls of salad, two glasses of sweet white wine and assorted plastic containers filled with hot vegetables. Liz had rescued her plate just in time and held it suspended in the air above the table. She stared down at her husband in disbelief, shaking her head. Then she looked at the plate in her hand, smiled and tossed it on the floor. Bryan grinned sheepishly.

  "Could I interest you in a Pizza from Marco's?" he said. Liz began to grin, then to laugh, then slipped onto the floor to join him.

  "Pizza? Sounds wonderful," she said, kissing him gently on the cheek.

  Liz cleaned the mess
and Bryan watched from a safe distance. They left and drove to Marco's and ordered a large pizza with the works, and a Coke, and laughed all through the meal. When they returned they parked as usual right by the entrance to the apartment building.

  Then they saw the light in their window.

  "You were the last to leave. Did you leave the lights on?" said Liz.

  "I don't remember," said Bryan.

  "Might have known ... what a memory. "

  "Nothing wrong with my memory. It's quite excellent - just doesn't last very long."

  The lights went out as they watched.

  "Did you see that?" said Liz in a whisper. Bryan nodded. Together they walked slowly to the door of the building. Liz opened it and they looked inside. It was dark, which was to be expected; the hall lights hadn't worked for months. They slipped inside and waited, listening. There wasn't a sound. "Okay, let's go up. Follow me." Bryan followed. He paused only momentarily at the door to Mrs. Perkin's deserted apartment, then continued. They reached the fifth floor without seeing anyone, but the door to their apartment was slightly ajar. Bryan pulled Liz back and stepped in front of her.

  "I'll go first," he whispered bravely. Liz moaned but let him lead the way into the apartment. It was dark and Bryan reached for the light. Liz grabbed his hand and held it for a moment and they waited in the dark, listening. There was no sound. Liz let his hand go and he switched on the lights and breathed a sigh of relief. The room was empty. Together they walked to the living room and sat down. "Must have been a bad light bulb," he said tentatively. "They sometimes flicker when they're about to die."

  "You don't believe that and neither do I. Somebody was in here just now." They looked about cautiously. Everything seemed as they had left it. Liz got up and went to the bedroom then the bathroom. She was gone for only a minute, then she returned to her chair. "We've had a visitor," she said and tossed the paper onto Bryan's lap. He picked it up, read it then stood up.

  "My God! What's this mean?"

  The writing was in oversized, red letters. It said:

  YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE

  LEAVE THE BUILDING BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE

  Liz just stared straight ahead. Bryan waited for her to speak. She would know what to do.

  "Bryan. I think we'd better get out of this apartment." She looked up at him. "We shouldn't complain. We've had - how many months, rent-free?"

  ***

  It was early in April when they found new accommodations. The apartment was slightly larger and more modern and clean and the building was fully rented. It was farther from the college and more expensive, but that didn't matter. They needed to move, and the sooner the better. Unfortunately the apartment would not be available until the end of the month so they waited patiently, never leaving each other alone. They thought of renting a motel room but, after arguing about the expense and the fact that their savings for a house of their own would suffer, they decided against it. They thought of moving in with Liz's mother, but she was less than enthusiastic. They even spent one very uncomfortable night sleeping in Bryan's office at the college. When all the staff had left they tried to move into the faculty lounge, but it was inhabited by sleeping graduate students.

  Between them there was little conversation above a whisper. And they couldn't sleep. Bryan started to take sleeping pills. Liz reprimanded him, then joined him. Then Bryan hid the pills.

  Liz must not take any drugs - not of any kind. She must eat wholesome foods. She must drink milk and green vegetables and sleep often.

  Elizabeth Anne Laker was, after all, pregnant.

  ***

  It was still early in April when Bryan first noticed a change in Liz. At first he chalked it up to her pregnancy. How did a pregnant woman behave? Would she become distant, morose, moody? Would she become enigmatic, deeply engrossed in something he wasn't a part of? Would she speak to him curtly, in short sentences, as though she had little time for conversation? Liz was all of these. Then she seemed normal again, the old Liz ... and he loved her dearly, his old Liz. But the strangeness would come again, and go again.

  It was Sunday, April 13 and they had both slept in. Bryan was awake first and made the coffee. He was scrambling the eggs, carefully, when Liz walked in. She said nothing, but sat quietly at the small kitchen table.

  "Liz? Is something wrong?" She didn't answer. "Liz? You've been acting strangely lately and I'm worried. I think we should see your doctor. Maybe -"

  "No ... nothing wrong," she muttered, staring blankly. "Nothing wrong."

  Bryan place a pan on the stove, poured the eggs into the pan then sat at the table. "Something is bothering you. I can tell," he said.

  Liz got up, stood at the stove for a moment, turned on the heat, then left the room. Bryan got up, stared into the pan of eggs, shook his head then followed her. She had gone back to bed, so he ate the eggs alone, wondering, worrying. Something was wrong.

  Then, on April 20th, Bryan awoke to find Liz missing. He was frantic. The car was still in the parking lot covered in a light snow. He phoned her office at the college but there was no answer. Then he noticed that her coat and boots were still in the closet and concluded that she was still in the building. He started at the first floor and worked his way back up to the fifth, but could find no trace of his wife. Reluctantly he began to climb the stairs to the sixth floor. The hallway was dimly lit from the dirty window at the end. He thought of looking into each room then began to count the rooms and the number of floors above him and tried to do the arithmetic in his head, then decided just to knock on each door.

  He walked to the closest door and knocked quietly as though he didn't want to disturb anyone. That was stupid so he banged on the door and jumped back and waited and listened. Silence. He tried the door but it was locked and he breathed a sigh of relief. He walked to the next door. It was locked. He found only one door unlocked and he knocked hard and waited and listened but there was no sound. Liz was not on the sixth floor.

  Why would she be on any of the deserted floors above? No reason. They had already investigated the upper floors - sort of. That was enough, so he walked back down to his apartment.

  He sat in the kitchen, thinking; she must have left while he was asleep. She didn't take her coat so she was still in the building. She wasn't on any of the floors, unless perhaps she was in an apartment on one of the first four floors, but they were all closed, locked, and she certainly didn't have a key.

  The basement. She must be in the basement.

  He ran down the stairs and pulled open the door from the first floor hallway to the basement. He had never been down there and it was dark. He felt his way down the basement stairs, running his hand along the walls searching for a light switch. When he reached the bottom step he peered into the blackness, calling softly. "Liz? Are you down here?" No answer. If there was a light switch it must surely be at the top of the stairs. He backed up the stairs, carefully, and felt the wall beside the door. A switch. He flipped the switch and a dim light came on below, so he started slowly down again, pausing at each step to look into the gloomy corners. There were several rooms so he started with the nearest. It was dark and he felt the wall beside the door and found the light switch.

  It was a large room with storage bins in the far corner and he could hear the hum of the furnace. Strewn across the floor were strips of paper and strands of wood; they looked like the remains of wicker chairs. Then he remembered the story of the New Year's Eve party and the deaths of all the tenants. He began to shiver and couldn't stop. This was the room where it all happened: the death of all but one of the tenants of Willow Towers, their bodies twisted and crushed, covered in welts and bruises. He could imagine the cries of anguish, the frantic rush to escape, the chairs leaping to intercept, the screams ... he felt like screaming.

  Then he heard a noise in another room and stepped backward so suddenly that he fell against the wall and accidently closed the light. Holding his breath he groped in the
dark and made his way out of the room, across an open area of the basement, toward the far wall where a light shone from beneath another door. He took a deep breath, considered abandoning the search, then slowly opened the door and peered inside. A light bulb glowed at the end of thin twisted wires hanging from the ceiling. The room was filled with boxes but nothing else, and there was no one there. He was about to back out when he noticed that one of the boxes had been torn open. After looking around and taking another deep breath he walked to the box, pulled off the yellow cord and peeled back the cardboard top.

  A black coil spun out, quivered and hung limp over the side of the box. He jumped back, sucked in his breath then saw that the box contained a basket, made of black and hairy strips of wood. There was printing on the side of the box: Jacobs Furniture New Bamberg. Bryan stepped back, reaching behind him to find the door. Another noise. It came from deeper in the room. One of the boxes was moving - several boxes were moving. He turned and ran to the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time, stumbled at the top of the stairs then continued to the fifth floor.

  ***

  Liz was sipping coffee in the kitchen, still in her nightgown.

  "Jesus! What ... where have you been?" he stuttered, breathing erratically.

  She looked up, half asleep. "Bryan? That you?"

  He sat down, leaned heavily on the table and stared at her, his mouth open, panting.

  "My God! I've looked all over. Where were you?"

  "Just out of bed," she said, wiping her eyes. "Where were you? "

  Bryan put his face in his hands and moaned.

  "Liz ... I was frantic. When I woke up you were gone. I searched all the floors - the basement." He looked up. She was still sipping coffee, calm, unconcerned. "Where were you? You know you must take care of yourself. I almost went crazy. The baby - you must -"

  "Told you ... just woke up ... found you gone ... made coffee. Here." She handed him a cup. "Excuse me if I don't get up. I'm still half asleep." Liz yawned.

  "You weren't in bed when I got up - I'm sure of that," he said. "You weren't in this apartment, anywhere - I looked."

  "Oh Bryan. I heard you shuffling. I was in the bathroom. Did you look there? Course not. Relax ... have a coffee ... calm your nerves ... silly man. Don't worry about the baby. People have babies all the time. Did you know that?"