by Ike Hamill
Kirk walked over towards the wall. The audio components were mounted behind a glass door. He opened it and spotted the numbers on the CD player slowly ticking up. When he hit the eject button, the machine spit out a white CD with a hand-written label. It read, “Ritual Loop.”
“Huh,” he said. The handwriting could have been his wife’s.
“Dad?” Jenny called from above.
“Stay there, Jenny. Someone broke in and vandalized. We’ll have to find a cop in town and report it.”
“What about the woman?”
“There’s no woman.”
He turned and walked back towards the stairs. She was hanging over the railing, looking down.
“Is that blood?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “It’s paint.”
He turned back. He would blow out the candles so the place didn’t burn down. Maybe it served them right having their place messed up. It seemed like they left it unlocked and didn’t even bother to arm the security system.
Kirk braced himself on the arm of the couch and lowered himself to one knee. The day was certainly providing him lots of opportunity to get some exercise. He leaned down towards the candle. Maybe this day would be his fresh start on moving around. If he could get a walk in every day, he could continue his cardio in the gym once the cold weather hit.
Kirk blew out the candle.
He narrowed his eyes. Now that he was closer, he realized that there was something in the center of the pentagram that he hadn’t noticed earlier. The vandals had dripped some paint directly in the middle. He shuffled forward a little. With a lean, he touched the barrel of his gun on one of the other candles, snuffing it. The image brought another smile. It was cinematic, snuffing a candle with a gun like that.
“Dad? What are you doing?” Jenny asked.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait outside?” he asked. He looked up at her. She wasn’t even looking at him.
Kirk shook his head and turned back towards the floor. He would snuff the other two candles and then they would…
What he saw stopped the thought in its tracks. The spot in the center was bigger. And it wasn’t the same color as the other paint. It looked fresh, too. Kirk shook his head to dispel the strange thoughts forming there. Was it blood? Was it seeping up through the floor boards. He looked up. Whatever was collecting on the floor must be dripping from overhead. He saw nothing but clean white ceiling above.
[ Coming ]
Above him, Jenny released a sad moan. It almost sounded like she knew what was going to happen, and didn’t want to witness it again. Kirk’s eyes were locked on the red liquid. He watched it grow. It wasn’t spreading out in an even circle, it was reaching out in fingers of red liquid and then branching and back-filling. The liquid looked intelligent. It looked hungry to cover the floor. He could smell it—coppery and metallic—like when he was bleeding out a deer.
“Jenny, get out,” he yelled. Kirk pushed himself backwards as the liquid spread even faster. It was close to the lines of the pentagon that made up the center of the star. He could still hear Jenny moaning above, so that meant that she wasn’t obeying him.
“Go!” he yelled as he stood up on wobbly legs.
He waved an angry hand at her.
The gun clicked in his hand. For the second time that day, Kirk’s heart felt like it stopped dead in his chest. He stared at the gun, realizing what had almost happened. He had waved it in Jenny’s direction and his finger had accidentally squeezed the trigger. If there had been a bullet in the chamber, he could have shot her.
“Dad!” she yelled.
Kirk looked down at the floor and took another step back. The blood—it had to be blood—had reached the confines of the inner pentagon and stopped. It had formed a perfect, improbable geometric shape, based only on the outline of paint on the floor. As he watched, the pentagon began to fill vertically, as if the sides were made of glass. He saw an inch of the fluid, and then two.
“Dad!” Jenny screamed again. The desperation was clear in her voice.
Kirk took another step towards the stairs and was about to turn when he saw something new. There was a shape coming up from the center of the blood. It was something solid forming. Maybe it was coagulating. The idea turned his stomach.
The sight of that was enough. He turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Kirk pulled at the railing as he ascended. He kept his eyes locked on Jenny. Her mouth fell open as she witnessed what was happening below.
“Go, Jenny,” he said, trying to spur her into action. Whatever was down there was more captivating than her cellphone, if that was even possible. Kirk was halfway up when he turned to look. The shape was the head, torso, and arms of a man, cast in blood. The liquid swirled inside the shape. The arms were folded across its chest. It was emerging, inch by inch, from the pool of blood. Again, the word “coagulating” flashed through Kirk’s mind and he found the ability to climb even faster.
When he reached the landing, Jenny was still standing there. He reached with his free hand and turned her away from the sight. His shove snapped her from her stasis. She glanced at him and the turned to run for the door. Kirk was much slower.
He saw his daughter pass through the doorway, escaping out to the bright sun.
The door slammed behind her.
Kirk grabbed the handle and pulled. It was stuck. He tucked the gun in his belt next to the other one and pulled with both hands. The door was immovable. Kirk glanced to his sides. He ran to the left—that door wouldn’t open either. He doubled back and nearly ripped the next door from its hinges. It flew open to reveal a coat closet.
There was a wet noise coming from below.
He heard Jenny pounding on the front door from the outside.
“Back up!” he screamed. She pounded once more and then the noise stopped.
He could still hear a rhythmic, wet, slapping sound coming from the lower floor.
“Are you safe?” he yelled.
He thought he heard agreement from the other side. It was hard to tell.
Kirk pulled out both guns, backed up, and pointed them at the frosted window that ran from floor to ceiling to the right of the door. He aimed them downward, took a breath, and then fired.
The gun went off with a deafening report. As his hearing began to return, it was filled with a ringing sound that almost eclipsed the wet slaps still approaching.
The window was unharmed.
He looked closer and saw a tiny chip in the glass. He was lucky the bullet hadn’t bounced off and clipped him. He took a step to the side and opened fire. He shot twice with each gun. Each bullet left its own mark and a network of cracks connecting the impact sites. Kirk ran up and kicked at the spiderweb of cracks, hoping to capitalize on the damage already done. His toe bounced off the window. He backed up and raised the guns to try again.
“Stop,” a voice said from behind him.
Kirk turned.
The man at the top of the stairs was formed of blood. The liquid swirled and roiled in his human shape. The only part of him that wasn’t shiny red blood were his eyes. Those were black, like holes in the air. Kirk raised his guns.
The man’s blood hand rose at the end of his blood arm.
Kirk shot.
He saw the bullet splash into the liquid torso—a perfect hit. The man stood unperturbed. Kirk’s next shot hit the man’s raised hand, right in the palm. He saw the bullet impact the hand and, an instant later, splash into the torso.
The figure of blood took a step towards him and Kirk backed up.
His eyes went to the floor. None of the liquid was left behind in his wake. Kirk looked into the depths of those eyes and felt his own stream of hot liquid leaving his body. His fingers squeezed on their own and the room filled with the sounds of his guns.
He never missed. Each shot was absorbed into the liquid man and disappeared.
Kirk’s hearing returned as his fingers tugged at the impotent triggers. The magazines were empty. The blood ma
n kept coming. There were solid things swirling in the fluid. Kirk’s eyes moved down to the thing’s chest and saw one flash by, caught in some weird current. It was dark gray metal. It was one of the bullets he had just fired. The blood man had absorbed them.
Kirk screamed and threw a gun. It missed and sailed over the balcony.
The blood man was close now.
When he swung the second gun, the blood man’s arm came up and his hand caught Kirk’s wrist. He stopped Kirk’s swing easily, like he was a petulant toddler trying to hit daddy.
Those eyes were so close. Kirk wondered if they were portals to the depths of space. He imagined that he could feel the cold air leaking through those eyeholes.
For the last time in his life, Kirk screamed.
Chapter 40 : Dunn
[ Disbelief ]
VERNON TOOK HIS SON by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
“We’re leaving town. We’re going to catch up with your mother and we’re not going to stop until we get to Maine General, do you hear me? She’s going to get her ankle zapped and we’ll have them take a peek at your brain while they’re at it.”
Vernon knew he was losing his temper, but it felt good. He needed to let a little of it out so he could cool down and think rationally again. He spun Ricky towards the road and gave him a hard shove. There was too much crazy talk going around.
“We need her,” Ricky said.
“Too bad,” Vernon said. “She’s on her own.”
“They don’t know, Dad. They’re going to use her up like she’s a regular person, but we need her. She’s special.”
“Ricky, I’m starting to really lose my patience here,” Vernon said. He didn’t shove again. He reached forward, ready to do it, but he stopped his hands. Instead of pushing his son up the hill, he took him by the upper arm and walked with him, escorting him by the bait shop. He wasn’t going to get in the truck—he wouldn’t fall for that again. The two of them would walk. Mary wouldn’t be moving very fast. They would catch up to her eventually. He tried to remember where he said they should meet—was it the cemetery?
He glanced at his son. The kid was quiet now. Sometimes dealing with teenagers was like trying to balance an egg. You could work all day to get them in the right position and then one wrong breath would send them tipping over again. If Ricky would just keep his mouth shut, then Vernon would be okay.
Vernon glanced back at crazy April. She was still standing there by the dock, looking nervous. She looked like she would crawl out of her own skin if given the chance. Her eyes didn’t stop darting around. With a few more steps, he would put the building between himself and April. Then he could go back to not thinking about her anymore. People like her were a sad tragedy that couldn’t be helped. It was best to move on and try not to think about her.
Ricky stopped.
“I told you,” Vernon started.
“We need her,” Ricky said.
“I told you I wasn’t in the mood to be trifled with,” Vernon said. He jerked Ricky forward by the arm. The boy was growing bigger every week, but he wasn’t yet big enough to resist Vernon’s strength. Vernon had worked a lot of years with heavy lumber. He still had the calluses to prove it.
Still, when he tried to pull Ricky along, the boy resisted.
Vernon jerked again.
The boy had turned into a piece of iron mounted in concrete. Where strength failed him, intimidation would certainly prevail. Vernon squared his shoulders to his son and let his hottest anger light up his face.
“Ricky, I am done screwing around. We’re not playing at something here. It is time for us to catch up with your mother.”
Ricky whispered something too low for Vernon to hear. Vernon was encouraged—if the boy was so frightened that he couldn’t speak, he would certainly start to obey. Vernon pulled his arm again. The boy still didn’t yield.
His hand was still on Ricky’s shoulder when the boy began to lift off the ground. Vernon looked down at his son’s feet. They weren’t touching anything. He was getting a first-person view of the trick that Ricky had pulled at the magic show, and it was impossible to deny.
“Ricky, what are you doing?” he asked. The anger was beginning to bleed out of his voice. It was replaced by fear. “Ricky?”
His son’s voice was too loud and too authoritative for his frame. “We need her!” Ricky said.
Vernon’s hand fell away as Ricky rose higher and seemed to grow bigger. His son spread his arms to the sides and tilted his head back up to the sky. When he looked down at Vernon again, Ricky’s teeth were bared in an evil smile.
“Go get the woman. Bring her along,” Ricky said.
Vernon held his ground. He wanted to yell at Ricky again and order him back down to the ground. The absurdity of the idea kept his mouth closed. How could he order his son to stop defying logic and physics? How could he yell at the world to start making sense?
“GET HER!” Ricky growled.
“No,” Vernon said. He shook his head slowly and kept his eyes pointed defiantly up to his son. “No.”
Ricky’s hand came out, pointing down at Vernon.
Vernon’s knees were weak. He didn’t know how long his legs would continue to hold him up. He couldn’t bear the weight of Ricky’s gaze. The thing in front of him was no longer his son. Ricky was levitating in the air and had grown to twice his normal size. Shame washed through Vernon as he realized that he couldn’t stand up to his own son, or whatever his son had become. Vernon let his eyes fall shut.
“Dad?” Ricky asked. Vernon felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Dad?” The boy sounded afraid.
Vernon opened his eyes. Ricky was back to normal—standing on the grass and a perfectly teenage size. Vernon blinked at the sight. He tried to picture the massive creature that had floated in front of him. The notion was absurd.
“Dad, I think we need her,” Ricky said.
Vernon nodded. He couldn’t stop his head from bobbing. He swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right,” Vernon said. He pulled away from Ricky, still afraid of the boy’s touch, and moved around him. He jogged back down to the dock where April still stood.
“Hey, April,” Vernon said. “You should probably come with us. It’s safer.”
“You won’t let them get me, will you?” April asked. She was still darting her eyes around, scouting for possible attacks.
“No,” Vernon said, “of course not.”
[ Moving ]
Vernon walked down the middle of the street with Ricky on one side and April on the other. He expected more of a fight. He expected his son to insist that they take the truck. He expected April to run off at any instant. She seemed content to stay with them. In fact, she seemed less crazy than normal. Maybe all the craziness of the day had finally put her back in her element.
“I need to change my dress,” she said. “I’m soaked.”
Vernon sympathized. He was still feeling damp and out of sorts. He had been walking around in wet clothes ever since Ricky had taken his impromptu swim. At least the boy had been changed into tourist gear from Louise’s shop.
“We’re already past your house, April,” Vernon said.
“Are we?” she asked. She looked around, like she was seeing the town for the first time.
“They have t-shirts and sweatshirts at Dawn’s,” Ricky said.
“I don’t want to turn around,” Vernon said. He turned back to April. “You’ll dry out eventually.”
“Okay,” she said.
The whole exchange was perfectly reasonable. Again, Vernon was confused why things were going so easily.
Chapter 41 : Hazard
[ Bikes ]
“HOLD STILL,” HER FATHER said.
“Would you let me do it?” Lily asked. She looked at Sarah for help. Her friend was useless. She was standing over near the car and staring at the house. Lily would be the first to admit that what was happening to the house was disturbing and strange. But focusing on that wouldn’t get them
on the road any faster.
Her father couldn’t even seem to work the tire pump. Lily, the only one who actually had experience maintaining a bicycle, was relegated to holding the wheel.
Mr. Endicott was moving slowly, but clearly backing away from the rest of them. He looked like his brain was rejecting everything. He couldn’t handle what was going on.
“I think that’s it,” her father said.
“No, Dad, we have to go at least to forty,” Lily said. “Keep pumping.” She looked up at her mom for help. She was no use either. Like Sarah, she was preoccupied by the shifting surface of the house. Lily rolled her eyes. Every so often, the things on the house would flash a different color. The effect hypnotized Sarah and Wendy.
“Dad, could you get the other bike down? I’ll finish this one if you get Elizabeth’s bike out.”
Mercifully, her father attached himself to that idea. He gave up the pump and Lily took over the job.
“We’re still going to be one bike short,” her father said.
Initially, Lily had figured she would just ride double with Sarah. They had done it before, at least for a short distance. Now, looking up at the way Mr. Endicott was backing away, she doubted that it was going to be an issue. Mr. Endicott was removing himself from the equation.
Just like that, he turned and ran. Mr. Endicott couldn’t handle looking at the house anymore. He ran south, towards the woods that separated the Hazard’s property from the Susan Gates’s house. Lily thought about mentioning it to her parents, but decided to keep her mouth shut. She was in favor of everyone sticking together and helping each other out, but Mr. Endicott was clearly not going to be of any use to anyone. He was losing it.