Evil Heights, Book II: Monster in the House

by Michael Swanson

  He was dizzy, his mind racing a mile a minute. It was so hot it was hard to breathe, much less think. The voice was like a fever in his ears, which was spreading to his brain. Miss Laura was right there; her shirt was open, the heat, the stifling closeness of the still, still air, the rum, the voice, he really was dizzy. There was that tantalizing edge of pink, exposed when she'd just exhaled deeply; he'd seen it for real now and he knew exactly what it was.

  This was too much; he felt as if he were teetering on some kind of edge. He was scared to death at just the thought of envisioning himself actually touching her, of leaving polite pretense behind and letting his fingers roam about inside her shirt. Even with the excuse of helping her with her accident this was Miss Laura for Christ's sake! Miss Laura!

  "Go ahead. She wants you to.” It kept at him, surely sensing he was teetering and it wanted to close in for the kill. “You think she's so prim, so proper? Don't be a fool. Did you know, when she's alone, she touches herself. She touches herself, and she thinks about you? You! You think she's so sweet, so prim and proper, but you don't know what goes on in a woman's mind."

  It was now one long hiss, a taunting whisper swirling round and round in his head. “She has fantasies about you. You didn't know that, did you?” The voice seemed to have lips. He could almost feel them just a hair's breath from his ear and even smell the sour, stale heat of its breath. “That husband of hers, you think he's so manly, but he hasn't touched her in so, so long. Women need that. They crave it. They do. And she dreams about you. Yes you, you, my boy. The naughtiest dreams. See? Look at her. Look! She wants you to touch her. She has to have you touch her. Don't be stupid. Don't miss your chance. Do it. Do it now!” The stream of words had mellowed to a syrupy hot molasses, crooning soothingly, provocatively, drawing out the last command into a hush, pleading with him as though it was the most impossibly important thing in the world.

  Where was it coming from? The dawning anxiety over the realization he really was hearing something so shocked him he momentarily took his eyes off of Miss Laura and looked around, even startling at his own reflection mirrored in the picture window.

  Hateful, that's what the voice was. A snake. A snake in the grass! Everything about it reeked with the goading, lying, arrogant, jeering taunts, which come from a bully who only wants the worst.

  But there was no one else in the room, and he was feeling more than a bit woozy. Lee looked back to Miss Laura, her face, her red lips, those eyes; swirling hypnotically within those sparkling mists of green.

  She hadn't heard the voice. He knew it; only he had. She hadn't moved in the longest while except to breathe. Her fist held that eye gripped inside to the point that her knuckles had gone white. And with her other hand she still held her blouse open, inviting him, daring him. Her bra was trimmed in white lace. He didn't really dare, did he?

  Lee, trance-like and shaking, nervously wiped the residue of sticky onion dip still remaining on his fingers on his shorts. Then, he brought up his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, reflected in the darkness of the window he could see it happening. Sweat was running down in his eyes and his heart was pounding, literally pounding.

  "There's a good boy,” the voice cooed.

  Miss Laura squirmed, her lips parting expectantly as she leaned forward just a bit more.

  "Take your time,” the voice hissed. “Get it all."

  There, in plain view, was that little, silvery bow centered between the cups of her bra, so alluring, so entirely feminine. And there, there was that edge of pink exposed again. Could he really? She'd more than asked him to. He knew he was supposed to do what adults asked of him. But, he knew in his heart this was something entirely different.

  Everything was flying in his mind; he sensed time for the two of them was somehow standing still, not a breath came from the fan, though it was whirling in a blur above.

  He could so clearly remember the brief fumbling from a moment ago. Even though he had tried not to, he had touched her then; his fingers had actually been on her skin; he hadn't been able to help it. He could even see the evidence of the smears where his trembling fingers had muddled about. What would it be like to really reach in and just slowly slide his hand all the way into her bra, cup her, squeeze her, run his thumb back and forth over that bit of pink he knew was there? Like the voice had said, this was a real woman. But this was Miss Laura.

  "Do it!” The voice came again, urging, unable to suppress its impatience. “Do it, you candy pants!” The whisper morphed into growl, the anger growing at his resistance. “Candy pants!"

  Lee didn't know what to do. Everything was a daze. Was it really his hand coming up?

  "Good boy,” he was sure he heard.

  She was sitting stone still, a fat bead of sweat hanging poised ready to fall at any instance from her chin.

  His hand was coming up, but it was as if it wasn't he who was raising it. He could feel something, fingers holding his hand. If he didn't pull back now there wouldn't be any going back.

  It rang in his ears. “Don't be a Candy Pants."

  He wasn't any damn candy pants. His muscles were straining, his heart was pounding and pounding just as it had when that thing had chased him down the road. There was that breath, hot and sour; it burned at the back of his neck. Nails, the hand touching his had finger nails, and they were beginning to bite into his skin.

  Laughing, Ted and Ed, who'd reunited in the kitchen after the bathroom breaks, came out together, Ed carrying a six-pack and Ted had a fresh bag of chips in one hand and the remainder of the can of peanuts in the other.

  Lee jumped back.

  Miss Laura, too reacted, immediately fanning her blouse, pulling it in and out.

  Thinking quickly, Lee croaked dryly, “Where'd Maggie go, Dad?"

  "She said she was going to check on the girls.” His dad was coming over and sat down, actually falling into the overstuffed chair Ed had previously occupied. “I think she's getting them quieted down so maybe they'll go to sleep."

  "I'm so hot,” Miss Laura said. “I do believe I'm perspiring like a common field hand."

  Uncle Ed took a place at the end of the couch. “Well, I know I feel much better,” he grinned at Lee wolfishly. “That's the thing about drinking beer, it's one of the few things you can do that feels almost as good going out as it does going in."

  Miss Laura was vigorously fanning with her right hand, wafting her blouse in and out, and Lee noticed one of her dark curls had become stuck and was plastered to her sweated cheek. She no longer had the eye clenched, but had her left hand open on her lap, rolling the ball round and round in her palm, her cheeks and neck flushed to a bright and lusty red.

  Lee reached over and deftly plucked the eye from her palm.

  Miss Laura started, reacting as if she'd been stung, and in reaching for it knocked it from his hand. It hit the floor, bounced twice and rolled under the couch.

  Both Miss Laura and Lee stared at one another. It was Lee who spoke up. “I'll get it."

  Miss Laura cleared her throat, then slowly got to her feet. “I'm afraid you gentlemen will have to excuse me; I do have some pressing personal business at the lady's room."

  Ted kicked back into the chair, looking as winded as if it had been he who had just been wrestled to the floor. He tugged at his shirt. “Damn it's hot in here. Feels like a sauna. Laura,” he called out. “The switch for the attic fan is on the right, on the wall by the closet door. It looks like a fancy egg timer. Just give it a twist, all the way around to the right."

  Miss Laura, wobbling toward the hall, waved back behind her with a flip of her hand. “I'll find it.” Her back was so sweaty her white blouse was nearly transparent, sticking in clear patches to her skin, and her bra strap was as plainly exposed as if she had no shirt on at all. She stopped and turned back. “Lee, honey, why don't you be a dear and come and show me where that little switch is?"

  Lee was kneeling down and had picked up the couch's dust ruffle as he peered about. “It's r
ight there on the wall,” he croaked, not looking up. His throat was parched. “On the wall. You can't miss it."

  It was still so infernally hot. Lee was reminded of the feel of a car in the summertime that's been parked out in the sun with the windows all rolled up.

  "Hey,” Uncle Ed patted the couch. “Come on over here sport and take a seat. Don't worry about that eye; it's got to be around."

  "Yeah, those things like to hide,” his dad said.

  "They sprout legs,” Ed added.

  Lee scraped himself up and came over, but didn't want to sit right next to Uncle Ed. He crammed himself into the opposite corner of the sofa and after scanning the floor from this angle, looked out of the picture window taking a couple huge gulps from his drink. He couldn't taste anything but the rum, but he didn't care, his mouth was so dry.

  Outside, it was pitch dark, utterly black beyond the yellowish glow provided by the porch light. The glass was crawling with a host of moths and other night insects attracted by the light. And every few seconds newcomers continued to buzz in, thumping blindly up against the glass.

  "Hey Ed,” Lee's dad said suddenly out of the blue. Do you know Lee's got himself a girlfriend? Don't you, boy? He was out running around with her today."

  Ed raised an eyebrow questioningly. “A cutie?"

  "Bona fide,” his dad replied. “Grade A Prime."

  Uncle Ed gave Lee his undivided attention. “You kissed her yet?"

  "Hey!” Lee protested. “Come on!"

  "So? What's the matter?” his dad asked. “That's a fair question. We're all guys here."

  "She's only here for the summer,” Lee blurted out defensively. “She'll be going back to Gatlinburg before school."

  Uncle Ed looked to Ted. “He's really got a thing for her doesn't he?"

  His dad was working on a mouthful of peanuts so just nodded.

  Uncle Ed crossed his leg, looping his left ankle over his right knee. “You ever want any make out tips, you just ask your ol’ dad,” he grinned. “That man was the make out king of Parson's county."

  Ted swallowed. “Yeah, right. What about you?"

  Uncle Ed lit a cigarette and began bouncing his foot up and down. “Hey, why suddenly mister modest? Just a few minutes ago, if I'm not too drunk and can remember correctly, you and Maggie were putting on quite a little show right here.” He patted the couch.

  With a roar, the attic fan suddenly came to life down the hall, followed by a powerful suck of wind. The front door, which had been only partially open, swung around inward on its own.

  Ted got to his feet and pulled the chain on the overhead fan twice, then sat back down. It was amazing how much cooler it began to feel in the room almost immediately, and to Lee, with the dissipation of the heat and the unmistakable cool feel of the night air it really was as if some of the earlier craziness had been sucked away with it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: INCIDENT AT CHERRY POINT

  A moment later Miss Laura reappeared, emerging ghost like out of the darkness of the hall. She had pulled her hair back and tied it with a piece of green ribbon. She must have washed her face and neck with cool water, as her cheeks were as bright as her eyes, and her skin had lost that waxy, sweaty sheen.

  She stopped, steadying herself in the doorframe for a moment. “I think I might need to go outside and get me a quick breath of that fresh, night air.” She smiled at Lee. “Lee, honey, why don't you be a dear and take me out and show me that new bike of yours?"

  Lee noticed, even though she looked more back in order, Miss Laura seemed perhaps even more unsteady than she had before. She stood there, blocking the hall, letting the draft from the attic fan suck her skirt about her legs. There was something hot and sultry about the way she stood, and she had neglected to button that top button. And actually, she reminded him of an old movie poster he'd once seen of Jean Harlow leaning up against a lamppost.

  "What about hearing more about the Captain?” he came back. After the incident with the dip he wasn't about to go out into the garage with her. The two of them alone, no way.

  She frowned. “I'm still so hot. You boys don't want to just sit around hearing me go on and on with my little, old boring history about the Captain? Do y'all?"

  "It was just getting good,” Ted said. “I'd like to hear some more. Hey! But, what's happened to Maggie?"

  Miss Laura let go of the doorframe and came around using her hands for support on each piece of furniture she passed. “I checked; she's lying down with the girls for a bit. Once they fall asleep she says she'll be back out."

  "Did you give ‘em a kiss for me?” Ed asked.

  "Course,” she replied. She looked at Charlene, dead to the world on the floor. “Look at my baby. Isn't she such a darling?"

  "Yeah, when she's asleep,” Ed shook his head. “When she's awake, look out world it's the two year old terror!"

  "See, that's what we were just talking about.” Ted brought his Groucho eyebrows into play, wiggling his brows lasciviously. “That's what you get for doin’ the you—know—what."

  Uncle Ed tried to look grim. “Yeah, you'd think they'd come up with a cure for that."

  "They have,” Ted shot back immediately. “It's called the rubber."

  Miss Laura was standing behind the chair, leaning forward and holding onto the back with both arms straight, elbows locked. “You men,” she complained. “Ya'll are all about as course as you can be? Sex, sex, sex, that's all y'all like to talk about. Of course that's the problem, most of it's just talk."

  Lee couldn't believe his ears. He'd never heard grown-ups discussing sex out in public.

  Ed took another drink, draining his beer, but not looking at his wife for a moment. “You like it, when you get it, though. Don't you, baby?"

  "I think I remember that I did, once upon a time.” There was a definite caustic trace of bitterness showing through. “Isn't it funny how marriage changes things? People never seem to want what they have."

  It wasn't lost on Lee when Uncle Ed dropped his eyes to the floor.

  Miss Laura, kept her glare on her husband for at least a few ticks of the clock, then bent even further forward to pick up her glass.

  Lee made a point to not look as she leaned over. But, he couldn't help noticing his dad wasn't so shy.

  Uncle Ed spoke up, obviously having been trying to think of a comeback. “Would you like to refresh your memory? How about coming on over here and sitting down next to me on this here couch,” Uncle Ed patted the fabric. “Lee's getting too big for his britches. He doesn't want to sit right next to his Uncle Ed."

  "He's a very well grown boy.” She beamed at Lee until he had to look away. “Certainly no candy pants,” she said daringly. Miss Laura looked at the bottom of her glass. “Before I do anything, though, I think I'm going to be needing a refresher."

  "I'll get it,” Ted offered, getting up suddenly and having to catch his balance on the arm of the chair. Grinning, he stayed still until he had his feet under him, then he came around, sweeping his right arm out and easily plucked Miss Laura's glass from her hand in one arcing move. “What'll it be?” he called out without looking back. “A double?"

  Miss Laura plopped down between Lee and her husband. She came down with so much force Lee bounced on the cushion next to her.

  Ted was at the kitchen door. “Hey? How do you want it, Laura?"

  She laughed and flashed him a coy look over her shoulder. “Oh ... Oh, do you mean the drink? Try a little less Coke this time."

  Ted disappeared through the doorway. “A triple. You got it."

  Ed patted his wife on the knee. “I'm think I'm going to check on the girls before Ted gets back."

  "Don't wake them,” she warned. “They're almost asleep."

  Uncle Ed stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and got up, as wobbly as the rest of them. “I won't. I'll be as quiet as a mouse.” As he got to the hallway he turned back. “You take care of my girl there, Lee. Keep her warmed up."

  Miss Laura made as
though she was going to throw a pillow at him, and Uncle Ed quickly ducked into the hall.

  Lee suddenly found himself sitting on the couch with Miss Laura right by his side. Though he wasn't looking at her, he could see her face cast back in the reflection of the picture window.

  Feeling a little awkward and thinking that maybe he should get up and move to some other chair, he instantly discarded that idea as a little too blatant. This was Miss Laura. It wasn't all too many years ago and he used to sit on her lap for Christ's sake. What had just gone on a few minutes ago had to be the rum, he told himself. They were all a bit smashed, and she'd gotten caught up in things and just let her hair down a little. And that voice he'd thought he'd heard in his ears, surely had to have been some trick of his imagination.

  They sat there together, neither moving except to breathe, their reflections painted in the picture window's glass.

  Outside he was rigid, but in his head everything was moving a mile a minute. No matter how he tried to sort out explanations, the truth was, he did feel awkward sitting next to Miss Laura here on the couch alone. He couldn't think of a thing to say, or anything to do with his hands. He didn't want to look at her, and he didn't want to not look at her. All he could do was sit and fret, a word his Grandma had used to describe most any problem.

  Fretting, that's what it was, and she'd always said, “It didn't do nobody no good to fret.” He smiled when a memory flashed back. Maggie may get on her high horse with everyone else, but she usually knew better than to try to correct Grandma's grammar. He plainly remembered one time when he was little; Maggie was being especially crabby about something and had said something snooty to Grandma Bonham about something she'd said. He didn't recall what it was exactly, but the memory was so striking, he could vividly recall Grandma Bonham coming straight across this very room, like a force herself, and the resounding crack when she'd slapped Maggie's face.

  Coming back to himself momentarily, Lee could see in his own reflection the grin that specific recollection had placed on his face. Fretting, he needed to stop fretting. Yet the events of a few minutes ago, rather than abating, seemed to just keep feeling stronger in his mind.