by Jack Phoenix
“Rod!” Elizabeth scolded. “He’s here because he wanted to make sure you were okay!”
“It’s okay, Liz,” reassured Wade, backing away, hand returning to his side. “It’s probably best if I leave. I’ll talk to you soon, and you both just let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
Thanking him, Elizabeth gave him a hug goodbye that Roderick couldn’t help but notice, as he turned red in the face. She waved as he slid out the broken door.
“So, that’s who you were with tonight?” Roderick griped.
“Yes, Rod, Jesus, calm down. Let’s talk about what happened here.”
“I thought you were going to dinner with a friend.”
“I did, dumb ass! Who do you think that is?”
“I didn’t know you were going with a guy.”
“Rod, come on, you really have met him several times. We’re just friends. I’m not exactly his type, if you know what I mean, so just chill out.”
“Humph,” he pouted, heading for the kitchen to grab another beer, as Elizabeth grabbed a broom and towel to clean up the one he had spilled.
“So, now that you’ve calmed down, do you remember anything else about what happened?”
“It’s just like I said it happened.”
“So three monsters were in the house after you?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m crazy.”
“Stop acting like you’re crazy!”
“Fine, maybe they were just wearing masks again, how about that? Does it matter, someone is after me, and here you are acting like I’m the one with the problem.”
“’Again’? What do you mean, ‘Wearing masks again’?”
“Forget it,” he snorted.
“I’m sorry, but this is just really hard to understand. You’ve been through a lot recently, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m not crazy.”
“Then you should think of something better to tell the police than saying you were attacked by werewolves.”
“You’re right, Liz. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Maybe I’m just stressed. Let’s go to bed.”
“I’ll need to stay up for a while. I need to call the locksmith to come fix the door tonight.”
“It’s fine.”
“Wait a minute, you just said someone or something broke into the house, and now you’re not worried about having the lock fixed on the front door?”
“A lock won’t stop them.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just come to bed as soon as you can. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Fine. Just go to sleep.”
Chapter Seventeen
“How was she?” Elizabeth asked Angela the baby-sitter when she returned Samantha the next morning.
“An angel as always,” said Angela, “totally quiet and no trouble whatsoever.”
Elizabeth knelt to her daughter, asking, “Hi, Sweetie, did you have fun at Ms. Angela’s?”
Samantha walked right past her and went upstairs to her room, closing the door.
“I was afraid you would say that,” commented Elizabeth. “Honestly, I think I would be grateful if you told me just once that she was too rambunctious and out of control.”
“Be careful what you wish for! Some of the other kids I sit for are unholy hellions. Do you still have no idea what’s gotten into her?”
“None,” Elizabeth frowned. “I’ll be getting her some help, though. I want my little girl back. The one that I could read to, that I could tickle, and who would sing bad and loud with me, and shoot me with the water hose.”
“Well, I’m here if you need me, okay? Summer break will be here before too long, so my schedule will clear some,” Angela offered as she headed out the door.
“Thanks, I appreciate that. Take care.”
Elizabeth stood in their entryway, staring blankly into the house, lost in thought. I wish you were here, Mom. I wish you were here, because you would know what I should do. I wish you were to spoil your granddaughter rotten. If only I had someone else, anyone else, to turn to; a brother, or cousins, or anyone. I have to get Sam out of this house, at least for a while. Some time away could do her good, but Rod will never go for it. The whole point of me staying home was because he didn’t want his daughter being raised by ‘strangers,’ so day care is out. Angela is a teenager, so there’s no way she could take care of her. Who can I trust? I could just leave. I could just leave and take Sam with me. We could find a little apartment somewhere, just the two of us. I could find a teaching job, I’m sure.
Next week. Next week she would announce to him, “Rod, I’m leaving.” Yes, next week she would do it.
* * * *
Roderick didn’t move from his bed all day. His fear of humiliation was realized. He thoroughly convinced himself that it was all a drug-induced illusion, and he wanted to slap himself for calling the cops. They seemed so real, but they couldn’t have been. They left no trace, and no masks are that elaborate. He was still just stressed, like Elizabeth had said, about his father. Also, he was still perturbed by what happened with those strippers, so the drugs just brought out some kind of inner-terror.
He was introduced to cocaine by one of his fraternity brothers in college, who shared some of it with him at one of their parties. Roderick was majoring in business while he was majoring in fine arts. When they were both completely intoxicated, his frat brother tried to kiss him. Roderick agreed, if he’d let him keep the rest of the cocaine, and the young man readily accepted. He presented the bag, which Roderick readily snatched, and then Roderick ran out of the room without following his end of the deal. He quickly found a girl he could convince to experiment with, and had unprotected sex with her all night long.
But ten years of doing cocaine, he’d never had such a horrible reaction, never hallucinated so vividly. What if I’m following the family tradition and losing my mind? No, that can’t be true. I’m not crazy. I’m not weak. I’m better than my family. I’m not weak.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth didn’t understand why Roderick was so intent on attending the ball. A fund-raiser for her husband’s political party, it was being held at the ballroom of the exquisite Aurora Hotel downtown, only a few blocks away from the alley where Robert Whithers shot himself.
“Rod,” Elizabeth pleaded, “let’s just stay home tonight. Let’s skip this and order some pizzas and try to talk and relax. I’m in no mood for a black tie affair, and you’re in no shape to go.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. With the way you’ve been behaving lately-“
“Enough. We’re going.”
“And if I refuse? Do you plan on dragging me there by my hair?”
Roderick sighed in agitation, seemingly too exhausted to put up much of a fight, “Look, you have to go with me. If I show up without my wife…it will look weird, okay? I don’t want people talking.”
“Talking about what, Rod? What are you so afraid of?”
“Just go with me, Liz. For fuck’s sake, it’s just a party. The neighbors already saw the police here, rumors could start going around about God knows what. The Mayor and the Governor are going to be there. I can’t handle an argument with you right now.”
“Fine, I tell you what. I will go tonight, if you agree to let me spend time with Wade, drama-free.”
“Are you kidding me? You should not be spending time with another guy, you are my wife!”
“He’s just a friend, and you know it! That’s my condition. Take it or leave it.”
Reluctantly and desperately, Roderick agreed, “Fine, whatever. Now go get dressed. And don’t wear that black dress, it makes you look like a vampire.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, “Oh please…”
Roderick continued, “Seriously, with your pale complexion and that eye shadow you wear, it makes you look like you’re about to turn into a bat and fly out the window.“
“Oh my God, shut up!”
Roderick Whithers detested bats. Once when he was a child, he had come outside on a sunny afternoon to toss a ball around. There, on the front porch, was a tiny injured bat, lying on the ground. Its left wing was torn, and he could see the exposed muscle of its tiny arm. The thing was so still, that he wasn’t even sure that it was still living. He took a step closer, and he heard it emit a rapid clicking sound. He decided he’d try to save it, so he picked it up. But he hadn’t noticed its exposed sharp teeth, and he flung the little animal against the wall when it bit his palm, leaving a splotch of blood on the bricks. The bat was dead after that, and his sister buried it in the flower bed when he told her what had happened.
Elizabeth refused to change dresses, however, and they didn’t say a single word to each other until they reached the hotel downtown. Roderick stepped out of the car, straightened his tie, and looked his wife over to make sure she appeared acceptable, despite her ghastly dress. They walked inside, arm in arm, smiling and waving to old friends and some unlikeable acquaintances as well. The room was decorated in red, white, and blue streamers with balloons.
The dance floor was empty, not surprising with the stuffy air and atmosphere that emanated from this particular crowd. The light, recorded jazz played softly, as the line at the drink table increased, and Mister Whithers and Mrs. O’Dell-Whithers could see some familiar faces. There was Mister and Mrs. Wyndham from the other side of town; there was their dentist Doctor Klubnik and his wife; there were the Smiths, a younger couple that worked at the statehouse; there was Mister Pyncheon the attorney and his mistress; there was the banker Mister Metzger and his pregnant girlfriend; and a bunch of lobbyists that Roderick was sure he had seen before. A bald man and his wife approached them, and Elizabeth recognized them as the Florentines, two wealthy and prominent members of the party.
“Rod,” said Mister Florentine, shaking his hand, “it’s good to see you. We are so sorry to hear about your father.”
“Yes, dreadful business,” commented Mrs. Florentine, “You have our condolences, sweetheart.”
Roderick thanked them.
Elizabeth said, “You’re very kind,” when she suddenly noticed some pastries on the other side of the room. “Rod, I’m going to go get a drink and something to eat.”
“Okay, Hun, don’t be long,” he instructed.
When she had gone, Mrs. Florentine said, touching his arm, “Rod, we heard that something happened to you. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why, what did you hear?” he reluctantly asked.
Mister Florentine answered, “Oh, just some nasty business about a break-in or something. We were simply hoping that everything is alright.”
He loosened his collar, “Well, I assure you that I’m just fine. Nothing wrong here whatsoever.”
“That’s good to hear, Son,” Mister Florentine replied, “is it true they were women?”
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“Your attackers—we heard they were women,” Mrs. Florentine reiterated, not letting the discussion extinguish.
“Excuse me, but I’m going to go get some fresh air. Have a lovely evening,” he said, stepping outside.
Roderick was in the garden, the music and voices from the party becoming muffled, and he wiped the sweat from his palms onto his dress pants. It was disturbing for him to have word spreading through the community of anything unusual pertaining to his household. It didn’t present a good image, especially when one doesn’t have any decent explanations of the occurrence.
Taking a seat on the edge of the garden’s large fountain, he relaxed to the sound of the rushing water as it spurted and traveled through the bowls and mouths of five stone maidens. He pondered what his future in the party would be if a story about being molested by aggressive strippers ever got out to the public, or, perhaps even worse, what would happen if people began to think he were crazy. Before his father’s untimely demise, Roderick had budding aspirations of a political future.
He was distracted from his thoughts by a sound from the fountain, like stones brushing up against each other. He turned to see that three of the statues’ heads turned to face him. A horrendous shriek emitted from their mouths, which opened with stony clanks, and the sound vibrated within Roderick’s skull so that he thought his head would explode. It also caused him to lose his balance, his equilibrium being thrown out of whack, and everything began to spin. He closed his eyes, and fell to the ground, clutching his ears. Eyes watering, he opened them to see cracks appearing in the stone figures as if the sound were causing them to shatter. From out of the shell of the statues, like monstrous moths from cocoons, he could see large coriaceous wings rising from the rubble.
Standing before him were three winged scaly beasts with human-hybrid features. Green scales covered their bodies and whipping serpent tails. They were hunched, meeting his gaze with blazing eyes and drool dangling from the large tusks that jutted from their lower jaws as they howled. Atop their heads were writhing red snakes instead of hair, just as Roderick had seen on the things that had attacked him before. Despite his current terror, he quivered in memory of what they had done to him that night.
As the screaming stopped, he raced back inside, shouting, “They’re here! They’re here!”
A unified gasp filled the room as everyone turned to him, some women clutching their breasts as if they were going to swoon. Then suddenly, a high-pitched voice shouted over the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, if we may have your attention, please!”
The crowd turned to the podium, while Roderick continued to shout his warnings about the monsters outside. No one was so much as looking at him anymore, completely oblivious to his cries. He followed the crowd’s view to the podium where there stood a smiling clown; a female clown, dressed in skin tight clothing with green polka-dots and squealing into the microphone.
“Everyone,” she said, her poof of red hair bouncing, her yellow grin widening, “welcome to the fun zone.”
Roderick could see the other two clowns, one tall and one short, skipping along and carrying two trays each of glasses filled with what appeared to be red wine, as the celebrants mechanically accepted the drinks, downing them.
“Boy, this sure is a good ol’ party, isn’t it? It’s so refreshing, inspiring really, to see all of you here, raising money for causes that are doing just fine without your help: important, social causes that will ultimately allow you to keep getting richer. Yes, that’s why we’re here, but let’s not perpetuate the rumors that you’re all just a bunch of stuffy, rich white folk with sticks up your asses! Let’s show ‘em that you know how to party! That’s right, get down, and get nasty!”
And at the sound of her words the crowd began to move around Roderick, slowly at first but eventually picking up speed. Everyone in the ballroom faced each other and began to sway, as if caught in a trance. As the speed and energy increased, hands began sliding onto hips, down belt lines and up dresses. He called for his wife through his nervous breaths, but there was no reply and there seemed to be no sign of her. The movements of the dancers began to escalate, becoming more aggressive as he searched the dance floor for Elizabeth. That’s when he saw sights that paralyzed him.
He saw Mister Florentine’s hands go down his wife’s pants. He could see the movement of Mister Florentine’s fingers under the material as a dark stain began to grow between her legs. Mister Florentine lifted his hand out of her pants, and there were now bloody stubs where his fingers had been. Roderick was more petrified by the event than Mister Florentine himself, who simply swayed in ecstasy while his wife licked blood from each severed digit; In the middle of the dance floor was Mister Smith, fondling his wife’s exposed br
easts, until the flesh on them began to split and they opened up like carnivorous flower blossoms with multiple rows of thorn-like teeth that chomped on his hands.
Mister Smith also seemed to feel no pain, and continued to dance with his hands stuck in his wife’s chest as if he were caught in her loving embrace. There was Doctor Klubnik’s wife who slit her husband’s throat with a razor blade that she held between her teeth; Roderick wanted to vomit but his muscles wouldn’t move enough to let him when he saw slimy tentacles coming from underneath Mrs. Wyndham’s dress and enveloping her husband. Over in the corner was Mister Metzger and his pregnant girlfriend, whose belly burst and a monstrous fetus emerged. It lassoed Mister Metzger’s throat with its umbilical cord, and strangled the life out of him. When Roderick finally regained his muscle control, everything went dark and he fell to the floor.
“Rod! Rod!” his wife’s voice, shrill and worried, began to echo in his ears and her face began to come into focus. “Rod—his eyes are opening—Rod, are you okay? Rod, can you hear me?”
She heard a primitive grunt.
“Oh, thank God. Rod, an ambulance is on its way, okay? Can you hear me?”
Other faces began to become clearer as his vision improved. The faces he had just seen engaged in such horrific acts were now looking down at him, wide-eyed, his wife’s face directly above him. With sudden strength, he threw his wife off of him, and leapt to his feet. The crowd ebbed, gasping. Husbands grabbed their wives and pulled them back. Roderick spun in circles, his eyes blazing, his chest heaving, veins pulsing in his neck.
“What are you?” he bellowed. “What the fuck are you?”
“Rod!” his wife shouted at him, rising back to her feet.
“They were here! They were here! They were fucking here!”
When Doctor Klubnik attempted to take a step closer, Roderick dashed for the exit, bowling over three people in his way. He threw the doors open, sprinted towards the car, and sped away as Elizabeth rushed outside shouting and pleading with him to come back.