by Jack Phoenix
Wade finally made it. She saw him enter, panting as though he’d been jogging the entire way, and he was exactly fifteen minutes late, just as he said he would be. He had been running since he parked his car, trying to spare her every second he could from spending time alone. She rose from her chair and they greeted each other with smiles and an embrace, and she pulled his chair out for him.
“Thanks, I am so sorry I was late,” he said to her. “I tried to get here as fast as I could, but there was this whole crazy thing with one of my students who’s going through a hard time right now and…”
She cut him off, placing her hand on his. “Wade, Wade, it’s okay, really. I ordered us a pitcher. Want some?”
He began pouring some beer into his glass, showing his pearly whites, as though a beer would be the most refreshing thing imaginable, insisting, “I’ve got the next one.”
It amazed her what age had done for him. He was only in his early thirties, but he already had some distinguished grey in his dark hair and in his goatee. He had grown the goatee since he was over for wine, and she had never seen him with facial hair before.
“So, how the hell are you?” he asked with a smile. “What’s up with all the craziness?”
“Well, it’s just as crazy as ever. He’s taken some time off work to heal from whatever the hell it was that happened to him,” Elizabeth explained, taking a drink from her glass.
“What do you mean, what happened to him?” he asked.
“I have no freaking clue. I just know that he came home walking funny with a burnt tongue, and he’s been acting strange ever since. I mean, strange for Rod. I told him a few days ago that I wanted out of the marriage.”
Thrilled to hear these words, he spread his arms open wide in excitement, knocking over his beer, which spilled across the table. “Woops, sorry. But way to grow a set, gurl! And what’d he say?”
They both had napkins in their hands, wiping up the mess, as he awaited her answer, but she took her time. By the time she was ready to say something, the server had approached.
“Oh, my, is everything okay, here?” he asked
Wade responded, “Yeah, sorry, party foul.”
“Oh, no worries, I’ll get some more napkins. Are we ready to order?”
“I think we’ll need a few minutes, but thank you.” Wade replied, and turned to his friend once he’d left. “So, go on.”
“Well, he threatened me.”
“Threatened you?”
“Kinda.”
“What do you mean, ‘Kinda’?”
“It wasn’t a physical threat, and he didn’t say anything specific. He just…dared me to try and leave him.”
“Are you afraid that he ever would physically threaten you?”
“Oh, I’m not too worried about that. Rod cares way too much about his image. He knows in this day and age it’d be difficult to explain his wife having black eyes or swollen cheeks or whatever. Plus, I think he knows I’m not a complete pushover.”
“He is some piece of work.”
“I know.”
Wade reached over and refilled her glass with beer. “I wish I were more of a man. I should put him in his place.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, accepting the glass and taking another drink. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I got myself into this, and I have to get myself out.”
“You’re way too hard on yourself, you know that? I think you have this misplaced sense of blame. You didn’t get yourself into this! You fell for a guy who turned out to be a douche nozzle, but it seems like you keep forgetting that he’s the douche nozzle. He’s the one making things difficult, not you, so blame him, and stop blaming yourself!”
“You’re right, Wade, I know that you’re right. Everything will be okay, he knows what I want now, so maybe this’ll get the ball rolling.”
“I’m surprised he even let you come out tonight,” he commented just as the server brought more napkins and asked if they were ready to order.
Elizabeth blurted, “Oh, crap, he hasn’t even looked at the menu yet. I’ve been blabbing; we’re sorry. Can we have a couple more minutes?”
“Of course you can,” he said with a smile and proceeded to another table.
She continued, “Well, since he’s been home, I think he just wanted me out of the house. He told me the only way I could come out is if I took Sam with me, so I left her with Angela our baby-sitter.”
“Oh, you could’ve brought her, I would’ve loved to see her,” he clapped. “Might’ve done her some good to get out and be in a social setting, even if it is one involving alcohol.”
Elizabeth realized that it was nearly a year since she, her daughter and her husband had gone anywhere together. In the earlier days of their marriage, Roderick was always taking them out to dinner at nice restaurants downtown, places where a child’s dinner still breached twenty dollars. She regretted now that she hadn’t brought her along. Elizabeth enjoyed places like this one; a relaxed atmosphere without prestige and pretense. Maybe it would do her daughter good to be in such a place. After all, she could see other families with children at some of the other tables across the restaurant. Plus, she sensed that Wade was good with little kids, even though he taught high school.
She was getting ready to ask him if he’d want to join them for a night out sometime soon when Huey Lewis and the News began to sing from her cell phone, indicating an incoming call. When she answered, Wade saw her face become rigid.
Chapter Fifteen
Roderick swings the club, nearly making yet another hole in one, and the sunbeams pour through the clouds, following the golf ball. He twirls the nine-iron playfully in his right hand as he skips along the course, whistling his favorite Kenny Loggins’ song. He catches up to his ball, and, with a little tap, puts it into the hole. With a cheer, he tosses the club into the air and catches it with his other hand, doing a joyful little step and kick as though he were in a ballet.
The clouds are moving faster now and gathering more tightly against the sun. The birds stop chirping and the silence conquers. The sunlight goes; the colors of the grass, trees, and flowers melt away and become grey and somber. He looks up at the sky, searching for the sun, and the clouds turn black as coal. He hears footsteps in the grass behind him, but does not turn until he hears the voice.
The voice is gargled and weedy, but he recognizes it as his father’s voice. “You make your old man proud, Roddy.”
His father’s eyes are glazed, blank and bloodless, his skin dry and ashen. He has that damn hole in his head. His jaw dangles by thin threads of flesh and rotting muscle. Roderick quails as his decomposing father approaches with his arms outstretched, his joints crackling loudly.
“Like father, like son,” the words dribble from his dusty jaw.
Roderick swings his club at his reanimated father, who catches it between his fingers, yanking it from his grasp.
“Face your demons,” he says. “Don’t let them take you. Face your demons.”
Roderick awoke to the sound of an explosion from the television, as the special effects-driven action movie came to a climax. He had slept through the whole thing and had forgotten to record it. He was breathing heavily from his nightmare, and the razor and mirror, with remnants of a fine white powder, were still lying on the coffee table in front of him. He quickly gathered them and returned them to their hiding place in his office, realizing that Elizabeth could’ve walked in while he was asleep.
That’s just what he needed—his wife turning him in for drugs. He wouldn’t put it past her. He thought that maybe he should lay off the stuff for a while, anyway. Perhaps it had caused the nightmare. He called himself an idiot, sat back down on the couch and turned the channel, realizing that his favorite reality show was on. The new season wasn’t as good as the previous. The women weren’t nearly
as attractive. There were too many guys on the show as far as he was concerned: Sausage fest.
He hadn’t had a quiet night in the house to himself in months, so it was no surprise he’d drifted off to sleep. If his nerves hadn’t been wracked by his nightmare, he’d be able to enjoy it more. It was still nice to have a night with some television and popcorn. Normally, he would’ve popped in a porno, but his sex drive was nonexistent since the incident with the strippers. He was just about to find out which contestant was being cut from the show this week, when the doorbell rang.
Who the hell could that be? He thought as he got up off the couch.
“Who is it?” he called. He got closer to the door. “Hello? Who’s there? Goddamnit.”
He went to the door and looked through the peephole, but saw no one.
“Fucking kids,” he griped as he went into the kitchen and began to pour himself an imported beer.
Walking back to the front room, his glass hit the floor and scattered the precious beverage when he was startled by three loud pounds on the door.
“Shit!” he shouted, and stomped over to answer it a second time. He once again looked through the peephole and then quickly recoiled when he saw the chomping teeth of a large dog’s face. He could hear it barking madly from the other side of the door.
Roderick Whithers detested dogs. He remembered the family dog when he was a boy, and his name was Rosco. The dog would always do his business in the yard, and it was the shared responsibility of little Roddy and Becky each day to use the pooper-scooper to clean it up. Roderick had Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and Sundays, while his sister had the remaining three days. He didn’t think it was fair that she only had three.
One Wednesday, Becky missed a couple of piles. She had been acting very strange lately, and it was the early stages of her mental decline. Their father had stepped in one of the missed piles, and barged into the house, hemorrhaging anger, ready to slap the girl to teach her a lesson. Their mother intervened, stepping in front of her daughter. When he saw her face, and remembered the little girl was not acting like herself, Robert Whithers showed mercy and didn’t strike her. Instead, he made her swear to be more thorough next time.
The following Saturday, little Roddy missed a pile, and his father once again wound up with dog shit on his shoe. The old man burst forth, his hand raised to little Roddy who recalled the last incident. Little Roddy made the same sorrowful look he had seen on his sister, expecting the same leniency. His father smacked his face, leaving a red handprint on his cheek the rest of the day. His mother hadn’t been there to help him.
Enraged at the thought of a dog defecating on his own lawn so many years later, Roderick began to make his way upstairs to retrieve his gun when he was stopped by a single thought: How could a dog knock on the door? He then heard a disturbingly familiar sound.
Three growling voices called from outside, “Sinner!”
Then the screaming started. It was the horrible screaming that haunted his mind, resounding in the night like a wild howl. He rushed to the back of the house and looked out the window. In his backyard, stepping slowly forward, he could see two figures in grey robes. In their left hand each carried a black torch that illuminated their faces for him to see.
They had black Doberman faces, but their jaws spread impossibly wide like a python’s. Locks of long red hair hung like manes from atop their hideous faces that topped their female bodies.
“Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!”
Aghast, he raced for the phone on the wall, dialed 911 and held it to his ear as he watched the creature get closer and closer from across the yard.
“9-1-1 Emergency,” said the voice on the phone.
“Yes, hello. Jesus Christ, this is Rod Whithers. I’m at ten-seventy-eight Walnut Street! There are things in my backyard…”
“Things, Sir?”
“I don’t…uh…people! There are strange people in my backyard, okay? They have torches! Please send someone!”
“The police are on the way Mister Whithers. How many…”
Her voice was drowned out as the beasts in his backyard opened their long maws and began howling again.
Holding a finger to his other ear, he shouted, “What? What? I can’t hear you, what?”
Her voice was muffled. He could only make out certain words. “…many…there?”
“How many are there? Two! There are two!”
And that’s when he noticed the other creature standing at his front window near the front door. She had green wolf eyes and her fangs glistened with saliva as she snarled at him through the glass. She pointed at him, tapping the glass like he were a goldfish, and growled, “Sinner,” while the howling from the other two continued.
“Oh, God, there’s one at my front window! Jesus Christ, hurry! Do you hear them? Do you hear them! Please, hurry for fuck’s sake, hurry!”
“…calm…on…way…calm…”
Unable to hear her, he threw the phone down and raced for the garage, grabbing his keys off the counter as he ran. Rushing into the garage, he separated his car door key from the rest on the ring with shaking fingers, but wasn’t able to get near the lock since one of the monstrosities suddenly leapt on top of his car. She crouched on the roof of his grey Lamborghini, her lips curling in a ferocious snarl. He fell back, his ass hitting the cold garage floor, and dropped his keys. The creature, her dark pebbles for eyes fixed on him, lifted her dusty robe above her breasts and displayed a single, threatening claw. Grasping her right breast taught with her other hand, she used the claw to slice off her nipple. The detached teat and spurts of muddy blood landed before Roderick’s feet, barely missing him. He righted himself, sped back through the door, locked it, and ran up the stairs.
He didn’t have time to ponder how one of the beasts could’ve gotten into his garage. All he knew was that he needed his gun; a handgun that he had kept hidden in his closet shelf in his office. He slid the closet door open and nearly had his nose bitten off by the snapping jaws of another creature. She stood in his closet with her ears back as he fell to the floor, crab-crawling for a brief moment towards the door until he was on his feet again, fleeing down the stairs.
He bolted towards the front door but stopped in his tracks, bewildered at the sight of one of the beasts on the ceiling, crouching nearly flat and upside down, just above the door. He stepped cautiously backwards and then noticed the other two crawling sideways on either wall, and then all three came for him. Their long red manes and their robes were the only parts of them that weren’t defying gravity as they dangled from their bodies towards the floor. Cornering him, they were ready to pounce from every direction.
“We can smell your sin, child,” gnarled the one on the ceiling.
“It’s almost as potent…” grunted the second.
“As the smell of your fear,” continued the third, as dark blood began to ooze from their mouths, noses and eyes, leaving trails on the floor.
They were close enough to reach out for him, and Roderick threw his arms over his face.
But nothing happened.
He kept his arms up, and still nothing happened. After a few moments, he peeked and, no longer seeing the beasts, he saw bright red and blue lights flashing through the window.
A voice shouted from the other side of the door, “This is the police. Open the door.”
Chapter Sixteen
“That’s right, Mrs. Whithers,” the officer said to Elizabeth.
“It’s O’Dell-Whithers,” Elizabeth stammered; Wade patted her shoulder in comfort as they stood in the kitchen talking to the police. “He said there were monsters in the house?”
“That is correct, Ma’am,” the officer confirmed, taking off his hat. “When me and my partner arrived, we found him in the corner of your front room there. We apologize for the door…”
“It�
�s okay, Officer, you’re doing your jobs, thank you,” she affirmed, her hand over her forehead as though she had a horrible headache. The cops had to kick the door in so they could get into the house, breaking the lock. “Did he say anything else?”
“No, Ma’am, other than thanking God that we were here. Other than that, just that there were three women with dog heads in the house and that they were after him. We’ve taken his statement down word for word, but he may be in some kind of shock or something. Would you like us to call for some help, Ma’am? An ambulance maybe?”
“No, no, that’s okay, Officer.”
“It’s really no trouble, Ma’am. I mean, we’ve seen no sign of breaking and entering, no sign of a struggle, no trace of anybody except him. There’s not much we can do unless we get the full story out of him.”
“I’m not going to the fucking hospital!” they heard him call from the other room.
“I think he’ll—we’ll be fine, Officer, really. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Ma’am, you take care. Just give us a call if he thinks of anything,” they said just before leaving.
As soon as they were out the door, Elizabeth marched into the front room, kneeling down to Roderick who was sitting on the couch with his head between his knees. Wade stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Rod, what have you taken tonight?”
“What?”
“I know you do things that you shouldn’t sometimes, did you do any tonight?”
“Fuck you. No, for your information, I didn’t. My dealer is out of town. Who the hell is that?” he barked, pointing his finger at Wade.
“That’s Wade Loeb, my friend I went to school with. You’ve met him at least six or seven times. He’s been to every one of our Christmas parties.”
“I don’t remember him.”
“Well, in that case,” said Wade with a smile, holding out his hand, “it’s good to meet you, Rod.”
Roderick looked at his hand. “Get out.”