Rockinghorse

by William W. Johnstone

  He looked around him as he felt hidden eyes watching him. And he realized that if he tried to walk into town, he would never make it.

  He woke Tracy and told her, almost word for word, what Joe Bowers had told him.

  She took the news impassively.

  Then he told her about the vehicles.

  A very quiet chuckling filled the house.

  Both knew where it was coming from.

  Tracy sat up in bed. “Then we’re really trapped? Is that it?”

  The rocking horse began squeaking as it rocked back and forth on the landing above them.

  Lucas spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I guess so, babe. That’s the way I see it.”

  “All right.” A deadly calmness filled Tracy. Now she knew for certain, with no doubts remaining, what faced them all. She could finally sink her teeth into this. And what had been said about Jackie brought the protective mother-instinct boiling to the surface.

  “Coming down here was my idea,” she said. “If I hadn’t insisted on coming, none of this would be happening to us. No. Don’t stop me. I have to share the blame, Lucas. I . . .” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t fully understand what is happening. Perhaps I—we—never fully understand it. But now they—those people,” she waved her hand, “have directly threatened to hurt my children. Our children. Kyle said his people have probably been penetrated, right?”

  “Yes,” Lucas said, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He thought that he knew what she was going to say next.

  “Well, then, we call the FBI. This is terrorism, isn’t it?”

  “In a . . . manner of speaking. But we don’t have a phone.”

  “No. I know that. But when Kyle gets here, he’ll have a radio in his car. He can report what has happened, can’t he?”

  “Somehow, babe, I get the impression that the radio in Kyle’s car won’t be working after he pulls in our driveway.”

  The rocking horse squeaked and laughed.

  “Lucas, the Hudsons and Westerfelts are coming in by car. When they get here, we’ll tell them what’s happening and take their cars, drive into town and tell. . .” She paused. “But you said we’re being watched, didn’t you.” She sighed. “And even if we got into town, we’d have to tell Burt Simmons, wouldn’t we? Burt Simmons. Sure.”

  “See what I mean?” he said. “Tracy, as impossible as it seems, that horse,” he cut his eyes upward toward the landing, “is not going to let us leave this house, or perhaps the grounds. I don’t know about that. Maybe the grounds. It demonstrated its powers the other night, remember? Try to leave the house, Trace.”

  She jerked off her nightgown and dressed quickly. Jeans, sneakers, blouse. She walked to the bedroom door and tried to open it.

  The door would not open.

  She flushed, whirled around. “Pick up that straight chair and smash out the window, Lucas.” Neither of them could move the chair. A force beyond their comprehension held the chair firm to the floor.

  Tracy picked up a vase and hurled it at the window. It halted in mid-flight and hovered there, suspended in motion.

  From above them, the rocking horse laughed and rocked and squeaked.

  The vase fell to the carpet and shattered.

  Tracy’s voice was shaky as she said, “Use your gun to shoot holes in the window.”

  The rocking horse laughed.

  Lucas shook his head. “It won’t work, Trace. I just know it won’t. I think we are . . . hell, permitted to use weapons in defense of ourselves, but not to get away from the house. Lige . . . Ira said, ’the house don’t want to be sold.’ He said the horse is part of the house. The house would get me; get the family. It isn’t the horse, Trace. It’s the house. The horse is doing what the house commands it to do. We . . . we’re in something like a . . . something like a cocoon.”

  She was staring at him with horror in her eyes. “Are you saying the house is alive?”

  “Think back, Trace. Haven’t we both awakened in the night, complaining of the other’s heavy breathing?”

  “I . . . well, yes.”

  “We were listening to the house, Trace. Not each other. We were listening to the house breathe.”

  The bedroom door swung open. The straight-backed chair tipped over. The broken pieces of the vase moved on the carpet, as if the pieces were seeking each other to reunite.

  Tracy fainted.

  * * *

  They decided to level with the kids. As it turned out, the children had already put what was happening all together.

  “Why didn’t you come to us with your idea?” Lucas said.

  “Lige . . . Ira, said the house hadn’t been painted in years, right?” Jackie said.

  Lucas nodded. “Yes. So?”

  “Well,” the girl replied hesitantly. “That’s when we both started thinking about it, after that first night.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tracy said. She had taken some valium for her shaky nerves.

  Jackie looked first at her father, then at her mother. “You don’t paint skin, do you?” she said solemnly.

  * * *

  There was nothing any of them could do, so they waited. And while they waited, they tried not to let their fears override them completely. The rocking horse was silent on the landing. But the breathing of the house could now be clearly heard. And felt. Jackie was the first to spot the watchers.

  “Look!” she said, pointing to the woods across the road in front of the house.

  A man with a rifle was faintly visible for a moment. Then he stepped back into the deep timber.

  “That settles that,” Lucas said.

  The four of them waited.

  “I just remembered something,” Jackie said. “Didn’t the professors, Miss Nancy, say they’d see us in two weeks?”

  “Yeah,” Lucas said. “Two weeks. That means they knew this was going to happen.”

  “That is correct,” the voice came from the side of the veranda.

  None of them had to look to know it was David.

  “Come on up and have a seat,” Lucas said. “Since I didn’t hear any car or truck motors, I can but assume you all walked here.”

  The professors, all carrying small overnight bags, climbed the steps to the veranda and took seats. “Yes,” Karen said. “Our vehicles were disabled during the night. Just like your vehicles.”

  “Coming down to the wire, now,” Lucas said.

  “It will get much worse,” Mark said.

  “I really needed to hear that,” Tracy said.

  The rocking horse laughed.

  The eight of them waited.

  Kyle and Louisa pulled in about three-thirty. He stuck his head out the window and called, “I have to go back into town. My damn radio quit working.”

  “Get out of the car, Kyle,” Lucas said. “And have a seat with the rest of us. There is something I have to tell you.”

  Lucas told them what had transpired since six that morning. Kyle and Louisa took the news with only a couple of sighs.

  “So I am to be part of some ceremony,” Louisa said. “Well. The ceremony of initiating new members into the Brotherhood, I should imagine. It’s rather gruesome, so I’m told.”

  “I don’t believe any of this!” Kyle said. “I know it’s happening. I know that. But now you’re telling me the goddamned house is alive?”

  “Kyle,” Louisa said, putting a small hand on his arm. “Settle down. You tell them your news.”

  “You’re right. Sorry, folks, kids. The man Sheriff Pugh shot? His name was Ira, all right. But not Ira Bowers. The dead man’s name is Ira Bush. He’s wanted for murder up in Illinois. Killed a man when he was seventeen. Been on the run ever since. I got lucky when I ran his prints. Sometimes that takes months.”

  Lucas felt giddy. He shook his head and said, “Then my brother is? . . .”

  Kyle shrugged. “He could be dead, could be alive. Anybody’s guess, buddy.”

  “He’s alive,” Lou
isa said, her face suddenly paling. “And he is coming here.”

  The rocking horse began laughing as it rocked and squeaked. The laughter contained a new, heretofore unheard note. It seemed to be much more savage, much more confident.

  The house gave a clearly audible sigh.

  And the Hudsons and Westerfelts pulled into the driveway.

  Mimi stuck her head out of the car window. “Hi, gang!” she yelled. “It’s party time!”

  21

  “Talking of axes,” said the Duchess, “chop off her head!”

  Carroll

  Everybody was introduced around. George and Harry were average everything. Average built, average height and weight. Either one could get lost in a crowd of two. Jan was tall and shapely; Mimi a bit shorter and just as shapely and attractive. Jan had dark brown hair and eyes. Mimi’s hair was black, her eyes a dark blue.

  Lucas was conscious of the strange looks from Harry and George that were directed at him. Tracy did her best to avoid the looks of Jan and Mimi. And Jackie and Johnny sat at the edge of the long veranda, with Betty and Ruth Hudson, Carla and Peter Westerfelt gathered close. The kids were silent, waiting for their parents to start the explanations.

  “Is this some sort of wake?” George asked, looking at Lucas.

  “Yeah,” Jan said. “I mean, people . . . did we come at an inopportune time? Something is definitely very odd-feeling around here. Come on, gang! We’re all buddies, right? You’re not going to hurt our feelings. Come on. Did you two have a little spat or something?”

  “Nothing that simple,” Lucas said. He sighed. “Jesus. Where to start?”

  “Wait a minute,” Harry said with a grin. The grin changed his not-too-handsome face, turning it impish. “Let me get a stone tablet and chisel. I wanna save this for future generations.”

  “That might not be a bad idea,” Tracy said. “Since the odds of any of us getting out of this alive are very slim.”

  “Hey, come on, kid,” Mimi said. “That ain’t very funny.”

  “I assure you,” Tracy said. “It gets much grimmer.”

  The rocking horse laughed and whinnied from the landing in the house. The laughter was mean-sounding.

  “What in the hell is that?” Harry asked, looking frantically around him.

  “What is this place, a nuthouse?” George asked.

  “Close, Mr. Hudson,” Jackie said.

  “That don’t tell me what made that sound,” Harry said.

  “A wooden rocking horse,” Lucas replied truthfully.

  The looks he received were mixed, ranging from, “Are you crazy?” to “Ol’ Lucas has finally started hitting the bottle a little too much.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Harry said. “And the Pope is gonna convert any day now. Come on, Lucas, can the crazy talk, will you?”

  Tracy tried her hand at explaining. “The house is possessed,” she said lamely. “And so is the rocking horse. I know it sounds stupid. But we’re all trapped here. We can’t get out.”

  The looks shifted to her. They ranged from, “Those downers you’ve been popping finally got to you, huh?” to “Kid, what are you trying to pull?”

  “It’s true,” Tracy said.

  The rocking horse’s laughter now became almost hysterical-sounding. It laughed and rocked and squeaked.

  Harry looked around him. “Jesus H. Christ! That sounds like a madman.”

  Jan’s eyes shifted, an uneasy cast to them. “I always knew you were a little weird, Lucas. But this welcome reception is not amusing. I mean, it’s not one damn bit funny. Now when are you going to stop this?”

  “Yes!” the voice drifted down from the landing. “When, Lucas? When?”

  Laughter followed that.

  “Goddamn!” George said. “Who said that? And don’t tell me a rocking horse did.”

  “It was the rocking horse,” Lucas said. “Look, I know it isn’t funny. Not a bit. And I wish to God it wasn’t happening. But it is, and I don’t know how to explain it to you except by taking it from the top and working down. Please. All of you find a seat. This is going to take some time. Jackie, you and Johnny take your friends out in the yard and tell them what’s happening. Kid to kid would probably be better. Take Baby with you and don’t get out of our sight, OK?”

  As Lucas began speaking, the smiles on the faces of the newly arrived guests grew broader. Jan and Mimi tried their best to stifle giggles, but were unsuccessful, finally breaking out in laughter. Lucas stopped speaking. He was growing exasperated, but knew he had to at least try to hold his building temper.

  “This is hysterical, Lucas!” Mimi exploded. “At last it’s really getting funny.”

  “Yeah, Lucas,” Harry slapped his friend on the knee. “Man, you missed your calling. You should have been a writer.”

  Lucas looked at Louisa. “Can they start their cars?”

  She shook her head.

  George lost his grin. And some of his temper. “Oh, come on, now, Lucas!” he flared. “Now this is getting a bit much, man. Come off of it. Haunted houses? The Brotherhood? Possessed rocking horses? This may be your idea of a sick joke, but none of us see the humor in any of it.”

  “Damn sure don’t,” Harry said.

  “Yeah, the joke’s over, now, Lucas,” Jan said. “How about we all settle down, huh?”

  “Try to start your car, George,” Tracy said. “I can assure you, it won’t start.”

  “Ridiculous!” George said, stalking from the porch, down the steps, his back stiff. He jerked open the door to his car and plopped down heavily in the seat. He cranked and cranked the engine, almost twisting the key off in the ignition in frustration.

  “Damn!” he hollered.

  “Running the battery down won’t help a bit,” Kyle told him.

  George looked out the window, a helpless and confused look in his eyes. “What’s going on around here?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Lucas said.

  Harry jumped to his feet. He walked from the porch to his station wagon. He didn’t stop cranking the engine until the battery was completely gone. “Goddamn it!” he shouted. “This is a brand new wagon.”

  Mimi had stopped laughing, stopped giggling. There was no humor in her eyes as she cut them to Lucas. “You’re really serious, aren’t you, Lucas?”

  “I know it’s farfetched. I know it’s difficult for any of you to accept—it was for us, too. It still is. But I swear to you, everything I’ve said is the truth. We’re stuck.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jan said. “Lucas, I personally think you’ve gone over the edge.”

  The mean streak that everybody has in their being surfaced in Lucas. He was tired, irritated, and his irritation was rapidly turning into just being plain ticked-off by the attitude and actions of his friends. The ire fanned by forces beyond his comprehension. “Well, Jan,” he said. “Why don’t you just go up those stairs inside and pet that cute little rocking horse? It’s on the landing, right up there!” He pointed.

  “Well, just get out of the way, Lucas!” she told him.

  “With pleasure.” Lucas opened the screen door for her.

  “Lucas . . .” Tracy opened her mouth to protest. “I. . .” Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it’s the best way. I don’t know.”

  Jan stalked through the open door and into the mansion. She stood for a moment, at first awed by the beauty and pre-Civil War grandeur of the old home. Then she took a deep breath and lifted her eyes, looking up toward the second-floor landing.

  The rocking horse was looking through the railings at her.

  Jan took a few steps toward the curving stairs. Sudden, unexpected fear filled her. For some reason she was unable to explain, she wanted to turn around and run out the front, back to her husband, back to her friends.

  “Stupid!” she berated her feelings. “It’s just Lucas’s idea of a joke. A damn sick joke.” She started up the stairs.

  She stopped as motion from the horse caught her eyes. Dear God in
heaven! she thought. Did that little horse just move?

  Then she smiled. Sure, she thought, putting a smile on her lips. Lucas has someone up there pulling a damn string. That’s all it is.

  She climbed higher and closer to the rocking horse. She could see no strings, no ropes. Nothing that would cause the horse to move.

  Then it moved again.

  The rocking horse moved around, pacing Jan’s slow steps up the stairs. God! she thought. Its eyes look almost alive.

  But she knew that was impossible.

  Wasn’t it?

  She reached the landing and stood facing the little horse. Her fear suddenly left her and she could not recall ever experiencing any fear for this cute little hobbyhorse.

  It was so cute.

  She reached out and patted the smooth wood of the horse’s neck. Had a . . . peculiar touch to it. Very odd texture to the wood. Then she realized what it felt like.

  Flesh. Living flesh.

  Fear again touched her with a cold slimy finger. She opened her mouth to scream.

  No sound would leave her throat. She could not remove her fingers from the horse’s neck. Vivid images of things long repressed began filling her head. And vivid images of matters more recent played in her mind.

  She stood silently, mentally viewing the show in her head.

  Outside, Harry was looking at Lucas, a mean, hostile glint in his eyes. “You’re sick, Lucas. Sick in the head. If I had known you were going to pull something like this, I would never have brought my family down here.”

  “I wish it was that simple,” Lucas said. “I wish it was something a shrink could cure. I really do.”

  “And I got a news flash for you,” Harry said. “You’re going to pay for a new battery for my wagon. And I mean that. Soon as that’s done, we’re leaving. I thought we were friends.”

  “I am your friend, Harry.”

  “Not and pull some kind of silly college-boy stunt like this, you’re not.”