Miss Laura paused and let them get their excitement out of their system. When they had quieted down she started again slowly. “But the two dead men wasn't all that they found."
She stopped again.
"What? What did they find?” Lee had to know.
Miss Laura was silent; it was obvious she was holding back for effect. Then she started slowly. “Well, for starters they found a few personal items from some of Captain Limpkin's deceased patients. Things like little girl's hair ribbons, necklaces, rings, a sterling silver shaving kit, and bits and pieces of personal clothing, mostly from young women and little girls. But none of that was anything compared to what they found after the bodies were removed and the cabin was thoroughly searched."
She picked up her drink and sucked at the straw drawing in the dimples of her cheeks and letting her eyes float about the room, taking her time as though she had nothing better to do but sit and sip.
Lee was sitting on the edge of the sofa, kicking his feet at a rapid pace back and forth on the base of the upholstery.
"Go on!” Ted was leaning forward and sitting up on the very edge of his chair.
"Come on, honey,” Ed joined in. “What'd they find?"
She carefully put her glass down, making sure to get it in the exact center of the magazine, and then began rolling the eye around with the tips of her fingers looking at it and at nothing else in the room. “You know they never found Captain Limpkin's glass eye. They looked. Two of the soldiers who had been in the lead down from the house said they had seen it fly out when the Irishman knocked him through the door. They were certain it hadn't landed outside. Those men tore the place apart, but it was as if it had never been. They even looked outside. It was a shame, as Captain Limpkins had been insanely proud of it, too. Originally, he'd claimed that it had come from Boston, but then later, he changed his story and said it had come all the way from Paris, France. Oh I forgot to include, that Limpkins was a pathological liar. He'd lie about anything, even little things, things that didn't matter.” Again she paused for effect, and then started back quietly when the tension was just right. “Anyway, all that aside, it was during the search for the eye that they found the trap door in the cabin floor."
"Oh keen-o,” Lee said. “Like Osia, I bet."
Miss Laura nodded. “Yes, like Osia. Below the cabin, they found a cave. There are caves and seeps all through this area. It's the limestone. Of course, y'all know that's what caused the sinkhole that made Broaddus Marsh. The limestone dissolves, and the land above just falls in."
"For God's sake, honey,” Uncle Ed pleaded. “What was in the cave?"
"Who was Osia?” Ted followed.
"One at a time,” she said looking at neither one. “Inside the cave, Captain Limpkins had lanterns hanging on the walls. When they were lit, the soldiers who descended the wooden ladder found gnawed human bones and a number of complete and incomplete bodies. Apparently the cooler air below the ground helped keep the bodies from decomposing as quickly as they might have above ground, but the stench was said to be terrible. And you'll have to remember that these men were used to the carnage of the battlefields, so it must have been something truly awful. A table, just like the ones in use the pest house for amputations was set up, and the body of a little, dead Negro girl was found strapped to it. She'd been stripped naked and partially eaten. It was patently apparent she'd suffered sexually as just a small part of what must have been some kind of prolonged torture ritual. No one knew where she had come from or who she was."
"Bones! Gnawed bones?” Ted asked. “Do you mean to tell me he was eating the legs and arms he'd amputated?"
"I would imagine such was the case,” Miss Laura answered quite matter-of-factly.
"Dad!” Lee's excited voice made everyone jump. “You asked me about Osia. He was this old Indian way, way back. He did the same things! Javier, he told me all about him. He was huge. The other Indians said he could turn into a wolf. He had this cave below his lodge, and he'd catch kids and women and take them down in the cave and torture ‘em and eat ‘em alive!"
"An Indian?” Ted had had way too much to drink. He looked bewildered.
"Yeah, Dad. He's the one Javier told me about. Osia."
"Well, I'd guess you might expect that of an Indian.” Ted sat back and crossed his arms. “But, I still can't believe this Captain Limpkins was eating the arms and legs. That's about the worst thing I've ever heard."
It was then that Lee smelled a trace of that rotten, rancid odor. He looked down to Charlene; obviously, she needed someone to change her diaper.
"What the hell are you saying?” Ed blurted out his tone entirely belligerent. “You don't believe my Laura?” Maybe it was all the beer, but he sounded angry, really angry.
"No.” Ted seemed taken aback. “I'm not calling her a liar, for Christ's sake. I'm just saying why would someone eat stuff like that. It's—” He must not have been able to think of anything to describe what he was feeling as he changed his tack. “I mean, I ate a lot of nasty things when I was in Korea, even dog, and some of the stuff the Koreans would eat on any given day would make K rations taste like a banquet. Hell, when we were trapped for almost a week on Pjong Nam hill, I'd have eaten the leather off my shoes if my feet wouldn't have froze. And I've seen a lot of dead bodies, but I never saw anyone hungry enough who would snatch off an arm or leg and eat one."
"No?” Ed was beginning to sound really angry. “Don't give me any of that Korea shit! I think you're calling my wife a liar!"
Lee had never seen anything like this. Looking over to his dad he saw his expression go from bewildered to irate. The room itself was becoming brighter and brighter, and along with the intense light again came that stifling heat. And the smell, it was back; the reek was choking him. He could feel it. Whatever had been there earlier was back, back with a vengeance.
He looked to Miss Laura. She was hunched over the eye, like a crone with her own precious little morsel. She had it poised, balanced on the very tips of her fingers, only inches from her nose. She was squeezing it and fondling the porcelain with her thumb and forefinger, all the while peering intently into the bright, green iris.
"Who the hell are you to talk to me like that in my own house?” Ted raised his voice warningly. “What the fuck were you doing back there with Maggie! Huh! Goddamnit, you better answer me!"
Charlene began to stir about on her blanket, kicking and making little disturbed sounds.
Lee's eyes jumped from one person to the other in quick succession. That smell, it was so growing bad he could taste it. The heat and the light, intense and growing worse by the second; everything was going crazy.
Uncle Ed got to his feet. “Shut up, mother fucker! You're waking my baby!"
Lee looked back at his dad. He was sweating, dripping, they all were.
"Fuck you!” Ted got to his feet. “This is my house! And I think your damn baby shit its pants. It fucking stinks in here!"
Maggie had appeared in the doorway, her hair down in her face. She was a mess. Her shirt was buttoned up crookedly with the buttons out of order. “What's all the shouting about?” she mumbled blearily.
Charlene suddenly sat up, and with her eyes still closed, she began to cry.
"God damn it! Now you did it. You've scared her!” Both of Uncle Ed's hands rolled into fists.
It was Uncle Ed speaking, but it didn't sound like him; in fact every sound, even the baby's shrieks were echoing insanely, ringing hollowly off the walls as though they were not in this room at all, but in the tinny confines of a tunnel or an enclosed indoor pool.
"What's the sorry brat screaming about?” Ted hollered. “Somebody make her shut up!"
Uncle Ed reached out and grabbed Ted by the shirt, drawing his arm back, his fist clenched. “How ‘bout I'll make you shut up!"
Ted countered by grabbing Uncle Ed's shirt. “You better let go of me if you don't want to lose some of those fuckin’ teeth,” he warned.
"Take your best shot!�
�� spat Uncle Ed. “It'll be your last."
For the longest instant the two men were frozen, teetering on the verge, ready at the flick of an eye to beat each other's brains out.
"Dad, no! Uncle Ed!” yelled Lee. “Look!"
It worked, momentarily distracted, they both looked to Lee who had pointed to Miss Laura.
There she was, brooding; she had that eye right to the tip of her nose. Her face had changed back to what he'd seen earlier. Cracked and lined with dark shadows, her hair gone gray, knotted and matted hanging down in long, greasy strands; she was not the same person. Cradling that eye as King Midas might worship his last nugget of gold, she was shaking, sweat dripping off her chin as her lips chanted something a mile a minute, apparently oblivious to everything unfolding about her.
It was growing even brighter and brighter in the room; the glare was so intense shining off the walls Lee had to squint to see. The heat had become intolerable, rivaling the interior of a locked car abandoned under a blazing summer sun.
Lee had only managed to create a quick diversion. At any instant the first blow would be thrown.
"I'm going to beat the shit out of you!” the voice from Uncle Ed growled.
Instinctively, and not knowing why, Lee shot out his hand and snatched away the eye.
Miss Laura screamed and then screamed again.
Lee almost dropped the eye. It was cold, bitterly cold!
From every lamp in the room there came a hiss and sizzle; then suddenly there was a loud electric crack Lee felt shiver down through his spine, and the room went black. In mid cry Miss Laura's voice was choked, her scream strangled. There was a sudden, awful silence cloaking the darkness. Only a single, dim light shone from way down the hall emanating from the tiny night light fixture at the end of the hall between Patty's room and the bathroom. Maggie was a silhouette in black, blocking the entry to the hallway, the halo of her shadow outline, like a giant creature, stretched up the far wall, and ceiling.
A stream of voices rang out, perhaps hundreds of them, some screaming, some laughing, some crying out wildly, and others shrieking in the most dire ravages of pain. Each was a pinpoint entity of its own, flying through the air, stricken and alone. Mixed into the turmoil was a rising stream of vulgarity to rival anything Lee had ever heard. The invectives spilled out of the heat and the pitch-blackness, each a viscously hateful attack or a violent curse directed to something unseen. And all of it, the cursing, the screaming, the heat and the darkness were jumbling and folding together creating a numbing sense of close and immediate terror. Then suddenly, the chaos coalesced into one single sound, one terrible booming voice: “YOU'LL EAT SHIT! DO YOU HEAR ME? EAT IT! GOD DAMN YOU! EAT IT! I WILL KILL YOU! DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?” Then it roared out with such force it rattled every piece of glass throughout the room. “I'LL KILL THE BASTARD THAT TOUCHED MY FUCKING EYE!"
In the darkness Lee could feel the intense power of the voice as it tore at the fabric of the gloom itself, revealing the strength of a terrible force, which had emerged into the room. Overwhelming, all consuming, the terrifying presence was all around. The source seemed to be the floor, the ceiling, the very walls themselves; it was everywhere. The booming sound of it, at the root, was a man's voice, malicious and bitterly furious, each angry syllable ringing with the sharply clipped tones of an old New England accent. It was hate, pure and simple, and it choked the air. The words lingered, repeating and echoing crazily again and again, seeming to fly and reverberate from every corner of the room before eventually devolving into a maddening gibberish.
Then silence.
Now, physically, like a pressure in his chest, Lee could feel the growing strength of the evil's crushing resolve. It took form as a pressure, a weight, a sense of hopelessness. The presence, free in the darkness, seemed to steal the air from his lungs. The force of it was beyond anything he'd ever experienced in any nightmare. A sickening and hopeless feeling, as though he were caught in a dream and falling, falling, overwhelmed him. The thing demanded that he give up, submit, give in. But give in to what? He could feel it to the depths of his bones. Such a terrible force. Selfish, childish, and cowardly in its arrogance it drove the force of its will against him. Smothering, rife with conceit, its power took the form of a sense of a dire hopelessness filled with ultimate desperation. It wanted him to panic, to flee, to run, to turn his back. Then it would feed. Then it would have him. Such hate, such absolute rage, a focused and malevolent evil. And it was here, here in this room with them.
As though running headlong and never moving forward an inch, straining, leaning in, bracing into a thousand mile per hour gale, and screaming, screaming without a sound, Lee faced the anguish armed with nothing but his own will. He sensed he could not possibly win; but he was not going to run. That's what it wanted. That was why it had exposed the weight of its power to him, to overwhelm him, crush him, to beat him down, to humiliate and then take and defile. It was in the heat, the darkness, becoming real.
Reflexively, Lee focused and resisted, pouring everything he had into a meager defense. But try as he might to defy it, to push back, to focus with his own will, the futility of his struggle was thrown laughingly back into his face. A coward, nothing more than a playground bully, it fed on desperation and pain. Trapped, he couldn't give up; yet he was truly helpless against it. And all the while the presence was growing stronger and stronger. It wanted him to see its evil, to shake and cower, only then would it feed. In the dark, in the claustrophobic roar of the silence around the baby's screams, burning in the awful heat, unable to breathe because of the stench, there could be no lasting struggle, only defeat. It told him this. The hate, the rage, such a thing suckled on the agony of its victims. And now he could feel it, sense it, taste its power. It would always have its way. Still, he resisted; he would not give in. His heart, his own courage, it was all he had; even as it stole away his physical voice, he mentally screamed back defying it to its face.
"NO! I WILL NOT! YOU LEAVE US BE!"
He dug in, his sneakers planted firmly on the floor. In the darkness he alone stood against it.
The power of the maelstrom, framed in a deceptive blanket of silence, was pierced suddenly by another long and terrible shriek from the baby. Always the coward, faced with any resistance, he knew it had gone after the baby. Her cry was pain, a child's pain: a pot of boiling water pulled down from the stove, a mouthful of lye, a razor blade found in the bathroom waist basket. The awful sound of the peals quivered violently at the end of each shriek as she gasped, fighting to gulp her next breath, her next scream.
A deeper reflex, a defensive outrage manifested as a rage of his own burned through Lee. The fucking thing! He wouldn't let it. Somehow he would fight back. Pushing, resisting, every fiber of his own will clenched, he came back with a hate of his own, fire fighting fire. Damn, the thing. Damn it to hell, he too had a will. If it were going to take him, it would have to take him down swinging. There in the dark he was crouched, ready, his blind eyes wide even in the swirling darkness. He had the eye balled up in his right fist; it was so terribly, terribly cold. So cold, it was a burning ball of liquid fire squeezed in his hand. With it he felt he could drive his fist through the face of any bastard that came near. He wanted to kill. God help whomever. He'd do it. He'd smash their fucking face.
Charlene was shrieking, absolutely shrieking.
Then moments of silence, the awful blackness framed each cry and gasp for air. It was here.
Damn! The eye, it was freezing his hand. He could no longer stand it. Not able to see in front of his face and so angry, Lee hurled it away. But the thing stuck to his hand, frozen to his skin. It was so cold, like a piece of dry ice; it burned where it stuck to his palm.
The distraction was all it needed. The full force of the thing fell upon him; his will a mere grain of sand at the foot of a mountain. He could smell it, feel it, everywhere, all around. The terrified baby shrieking and shrieking, a steam whistle, a train's whistle, running amok, brief second
s before jumping the tracks. The word “candy pants,” torn into the wood. Then it hit him as surely as any blow; it was trying to get inside his head that same hideous, rotten meat smell, a smell of carnage, of death, of things best buried; this was what he'd smelled in the caboose that very afternoon.
The presence was bearing down, the weight of it almost too much, trying to drive him to his knees. It was everywhere, filling the room. Taunting and toying instead of just ending it, the thing wanted to play. The intensity of the hate, the malevolence was so terrible, so powerful.
"NO!” he screamed out, finally finding his voice. “I won't let you! Leave us alone!"
Gloating, smug in its power, it roared back at him: “COME TO ME. COME TO ME. BRING ME THE BRAT. KILL HER! BREAK HER NECK! GIVE YOURSELF OVER AND I'LL LET YOU HAVE YOUR OWN!” With this came a vision, really more a feeling that something he could see, legs snapping, bones splintering, tearing through muscle and skin, and then the genitals. Lord God Almighty, the genitals! He could see it! He could see what it wanted him to do to Charlene!
Tearing at it with his fingers, Lee ripped free the eye frozen to his palm. With all his force he threw it, feeling it come free as it momentarily had stuck to the tips of his fingers. Then he sensed it, feeling himself within the eye as it spun through the blackness.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: A MONSTER IN THE HOUSE
A shriek came hurtling from way off down the hall causing Lee to whirl around blindly from where he crouched. Maggie too, still frozen like a statue blocking the hallway came to life and screamed in reflex, adding to the confusion, the chaos.
Lee heard his dad's voice, “What's that?"
"The girls!” Uncle Ed echoed, as now it was all three girls screaming, not just the baby.
Pushing past Maggie, uselessly standing in the way, the two men ran down the hall.
Lee could hear the door slam back as they entered Patty's room and Belinda screamed out, “It's a monster, daddy! There's a monster in the room!"
Lee's eyes had begun to make out shapes in the darkness. The darkness, so utter moments ago, was drawing back, taking its blanket of shrouding silence with it. The porch light came in again, shining weakly through the front window. He could barely make out Miss Laura at the end of the couch looking at her fingers, her lips open but no sound or sense of awareness forthcoming.
Evil Heights, Book II: Monster in the House Page 29