The Punished

by Peter Meredith

  He walked into the room expecting it to be empty, but instead he found both Paul and the mouse there. Paul was cleaning, hurriedly casting looks toward the window every few seconds, while the mouse appeared to be standing guard over the puzzle box again. Her back was to Curt as he entered and she seemed at first not to notice his presence and only reached up to caress the box gently. Paul saw him a second later and his face filled with alarm.

  Curt gave him a quick smile, and acting as if he had every right to them, he headed for the brass bookends and picked them up, one in each hand.

  'Hey!' Paul shook his head angrily; he was worried about being punished for not having his areas of responsibility in proper order.

  Curt now faced another challenge to his ragged plan. By his own admission, Paul couldn't be trusted, yet Curt needed the boy's help badly. What he wanted, more than anything, was Paul's help with fighting Matt, together they could beat the older boy. However just seeing the boy's twitch begin to escalate, simply over the bookends made him realize that fighting was out of the question.

  Paul began to gesture to him, but Curt didn't bother trying to translate. He was in a zone; his mind was far away, thinking in a blaze. Ideas came to him three, four at a time and each he discarded, seeing flaw after flaw. Seconds passed. Precious seconds that he would never be able to get back and now Paul stopped his futile motions.

  "Hey?" Paul whispered with sudden concern and then touched Curt on the arm. Curt looked up, but not at the blonde boy, but past him. Paul's fingers had been cold on his arm. They had reminded Curt of his nightmare and how cold Paul's dead body had been under the covers. This triggered a new idea.

  "We're escaping...tonight," Curt whispered. "If you want to come, get up the bathroom now."

  "What?" Paul grabbed Curt's arm, his face heavy with indecision.

  "We'll all be dead in a week..." Curt started to say, but the mouse cut him off.

  "We're escaping...tonight," she whispered in his ear and he jumped in fright, as did Paul. The girl had slipped up close while his attention had been diverted and her whisper had sent a jolt of electricity straight through him. With his heart hammering in his thin chest, Curt turned to look at the girl.

  "We're escaping...tonight," she whispered again. Her eyes started to spin about the room, "We're escaping...tonight," she repeated a third time.

  Curt gave her an intense look, wondering how much of this she understood. Normally, he would have thought she comprehended only a little of what she had heard, but in her hands, she held her cat puzzle box. That alone gave him pause.

  "We're escaping...tonight," she whispered to him. Now Curt began to feel a touch of panic sliding over the constant thrum of fear within him. She couldn't go around saying that, it would make Matt even more difficult to handle.

  "Curt is in the bathroom," he whispered to her. "Curt is in the bathroom. Curt is in the bathroom." Her head pointed toward the ceiling as if she could look through the intervening walls and see him there. "Curt is in the bathroom," he said a last time and then gave her a little shove toward the doorway and like a robot she headed off in that direction and as soon as she did, Curt grabbed Paul's hands.

  "If you want to come with us, get to the bathroom quick."

  Time seemed to be slipping away and Curt couldn't wait any longer for a decision from Paul. Taking the brass kittens, he scootched past a bewildered looking mouse and headed up the stairs hoping not to run into Matt. Thankfully, the upstairs hall was deserted and even better, Amber had made it to the bathroom. She sat on the white tiled floor looking terribly miserable.

  She rocked gently, holding her wrapped hands to her chest and as Curt neared, he saw tears coming down her cheeks. When she saw him sliding into the room her tears became more intense.

  "My hands...they hurt so much," she said in obvious misery.

  Wishing he had more than a second to console her, he bent down and kissed her head, "I know, I'm so sorry, but Matt could be up here any second."

  She nodded in understanding, and then her eyes widened, Curt knew that someone was behind him and turned with a heavy heart. It was only Paul and he sighed in relief at the blonde boy.

  "Get in here," Curt whispered urgently and when Paul had entered, Curt shut the door. "Your part of the plan is very simple," he said to them. "Stay in here, lock the door and whatever you do, don't talk to Matt. He's going to say anything to get you to open the door, but whatever you do, don't open it and don't say anything. Just sit tight."

  "What about..." Paul started to say, and Curt cut him off fast.

  "He could be here any second!" Curt snapped. "Now either sit in here and be quiet or go hide in your bed and pray the creature doesn't come for you next." The threat of the impending confrontation with Matt had made him more than a bit testy.

  Paul took a step back, "I'm sorry...I'll stay here. I want to escape too. Ok? Please take me with you." His voice shook with fear at the thought of being left behind.

  "Then lock the door behind me and keep quiet," Curt whispered and stepped out into the hallway, avoiding the first two floorboards, which had small but obvious squeaks to them. In his right hand, he hefted one of the brass bookends, ready to throw it if Matt happened to be there. But the older boy was nowhere in sight and for just a moment, Curt wondered if Matt was coming at all. Perhaps he had a change of heart, he mused, feeling a bit of hope.

  Despite the tension that ran through his slim young body, Curt smiled at his own foolish thought. Matt would show up all right. He would never take the chance of being punished so soon after his last. And that there'd be a punishment that night, there was no doubt in Curt's mind. Even if Matt had a change of heart and the house was in perfect shape, spotless and beautiful, the creature would come. Whenever Curt touched the wall, he could feel the beast down in the pits it had dug for itself beneath the basement. It had become accustomed to the taste of flesh and it wanted more.

  Oddly, upon thinking these morbid thoughts, Curt had another queer thrill run through him. It was as if he stood alone against the unnatural power of the house, the terrifying desires of the creature and the unrelenting cruelty of a young man. The odds were terrible, but he was at least doing something and it put a charge into him and he smirked, suddenly sure that he would find away to prevail, but then a little voice within him spoke up.

  "What about Mr. Gallarti? What about the day you came here? Weren't you feeling the same way?" the voice asked.

  That was true enough, he had been feeling very confident that day, even when he had been caught by the janitor, he had been quite certain he would get away. But that was the way it was suppose to be, he reasoned. A thief had to be cocky and confident and in control of his fear, not the other way around. For too long in the house, he had let his fear control him. Not to the extent that it controlled the others in the home, but still far too much.

  However, he decided, that way of thinking was ending...starting now. With that thought, Curt made a quick dash across the hall to Paul's room and before entering it, he cast a glance down toward Matt's room and the backstairs. There was no one about.

  So far so good, he thought and climbed into the bed, covering himself over. Under the sheets, he worked quickly, stripping off the pillowcase and putting the two heavy brass kittens in place of the pillow. He then began twisting the pillowcase tighter, to keep the bookends from moving about and clanking together.

  But he stopped halfway through when he heard a small sound. Freezing in place, he strained to catch the noise again and sure enough, it grew louder. The mouse, perhaps due to her mental state, was not very quiet when she moved and what's more, she whispered as she walked.

  "We're escaping...tonight," she murmured as she came up the stairs. He could hear her then go the bathroom door, "We're escaping...tonight," she said to it.

  Amazingly, she then went to Paul's door and repeated the words before moving off down the hall out of earshot. Curt had to stifle a scream of anger. Even if Matt wasn't nearby to hear th
e girl, the house certainly did and the word escape always got its attention and not in a good way.

  After a moment, he went limp, feeling frazzled, wondering if he would have the energy to fight Matt. It turned out it was a good thing that he went limp because a second later; Wwhhhhhh.

  Paul's door came open and Matt entered the room.

  2

  When Matt slid in, he seemed to bring with him a malignant presence, a foul air.

  It made Curt's skin crawl, but by long practice, he remained limp under the blankets. Matt moved about the room hurriedly making more noise than usual and Curt heard a little grunt as he looked under the bed. He left a moment later. The search had been perfunctory at best and it made Curt smile. Matt was seeing what he had expected to see... what Curt wanted him to see.

  Curt waited, listening. Shockingly, he actually heard Matt dashing from room to room. Clearly, the older boy had realized that he had misjudged the time as well and was cutting it very close.

  Finally, Curt heard Matt at the bathroom door.

  "You don't think hiding in there is going to save you from the monster?" he asked in a loud whisper.

  Silence greeted this. Excellent, thought Curt and gently pulled back the covers. Fear smote him like an arrow in his stomach, the light trickling in from the outside was markedly less than it had been only a few minutes before. He was fast running out of time.

  "Come on out Amber," Matt drawled in what he considered a nice voice. "There's no need for you getting punished two nights in a row."

  As Matt spoke, Curt used the sound of his voice to cover any noise that he might make as he slipped out of bed and made his way to the door. He would have one chance now. The next time Matt spoke, Curt would have to make his move, there was simply no more time left.

  "Really? The silent treatment?" Matt said with an air of superiority as if he were talking to a couple of six year olds. "Amber, please. He's only using you so he won't..."

  Curt slipped around the door and charged at Matt. He moved in complete silence, yet despite that, Curt moved very fast and saw that he had a chance to hit the older boy nearly from behind. Matt leaned against the door as if without a care, but at the last moment, he caught sight of the motion coming toward him.

  He spun with astonishing swiftness, bringing the homemade spear to bear on Curt's chest. In a tenth of a second, the tables had turned on Curt. No longer did he have the upper hand with surprise and now he faced a foe who was not only bigger, stronger, and faster, but one who had beaten him at every turn and in every way. In everything that Curt excelled at, Matt was simply better.

  Even in his choice of weapons. The plank of wood that he carried, had a large split at the top that formed a very sharp point, but it was also capable as a defensive weapon as well. It was easy to handle, while Curt's was a clumsy weapon at best.

  The weighted pillowcase could only be used offensively and worse, within the narrow confines of the hallway it could only be used one way. He would have to bring it up and back, before swinging it from over the top of his head. That was it. There was no other way to attack with it.

  But despite all of his shortcoming and his weapon's inadequacies, Curt attacked. He had no other choice.

  Curt brought the slow, unwieldy weapon up, feeling that his entire midsection was open to attack from Matt's spear and indeed it was. Matt could have danced forward and sunk the sharp edge deep into him, before the smaller boy was half way through getting his weapon around, but for a single reason he didn't.

  The reason was clear on his face, which was lit with a dreadful glee; Matt wanted to play with his food before he ate it. With all the confidence in the world and with the speed of a viper, Matt brought the flat of his spear up to block the blow that he had seen coming a mile away.

  But Matt, as good as he was compared to Curt, was not trained to fight against someone wielding a makeshift Morningstar. His very quickness proved his undoing, as he didn't reckon with the slight lag in time, as Curt's hands, at the light end, sped faster than the rest of the ungainly weapon. The pillowcase struck the spear midline, and folded over it easily, which sent the brass kittens at the end of the pillowcase, hurtling even faster into Matt's face. Matt was down before he had a chance to be surprised.

  For a moment, Curt stood there in shock, disbelieving that he had actually knocked the older boy out. But the moment was quite short lived. The air in the hallway became instantly charged with the anger of the house and Curt had the disquieting feeling that the house knew what was going on.

  Stepping to the bathroom, he hissed, "Open the door!" But no sound came from the other side. His face quickly went red, "It's me, Curt. Open the door before the damn creature comes!"

  Now the door swung open, revealing a frightened looking Paul. It seemed that Paul had regressed in age over the last few minutes, he looked younger, almost a child.

  "Look what he did." There was awe in his voice. Curt was just about to begin issuing orders when Paul spoke again, "I know. I think we should get back to bed quick...it's getting close to sundown... I know I feel it too."

  Curt felt his head spin. In his fear and stress, Paul had slipped beneath his many personalities; it couldn't have come at a worse time. Curt looked at Amber and all she could do was shrug.

  "He was coming apart in there," she whispered. "I thought for sure Matt heard him, he kept whispering to himself and was getting louder and louder."

  Curt grabbed his hair in frustration. He needed someone to throw Matt into the basement, before he came awake again and before the creature ventured forth, either of which could happen at any moment.

  "Paul!" Curt decided to give the insane boy at least one shot, "Drag Matt down to the basement door. I need you to tie him up before you roll him..."

  "We're not going down there," Paul said with a tone of nastiness. Curt had no time for this. In fact, none of them had time. Curt knelt down and picked up the spear.

  "Move the body to the basement. I'm not going to ask again." Curt's face had become hard with resolution and he advanced slowly on Paul, keeping the spear dead set on the boy's face.

  "Ok...ok," Paul squeaked and then reached down and began pulling the larger boy along.

  Turning to Amber, Curt ordered, "Grab some sheets, make him do his best to tie him up and...uh...uh, put a pillowcase over Matt's face. It's not right that he sees what's down there."

  Amber turned a light green at her orders but went to the bathroom and began grabbing sheets with her teeth and laying them over her better hand, the right one. For a second, Curt wanted to help her, regrettably his next task needed every second they had left to them and probably even more than that.

  Curt ran, heedless of the noise he made, down the main stairs and then to the kitchen. The mudroom door began opening, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he went to the cookbooks and snatched up the one with the recipe for Goulash and like magic, it laid itself open right to the correct page. Grabbing the paperclip he then dashed to the basement door, which had opened as well. It billowed wet disgusting air coating him in a second. Without bothering to look into the black depths, he calmly shut the door and then went to the mudroom door and did the same thing. He turned on his heel and dashed to the backstairs and there was Paul, huffing and puffing, pulling the limp form of Matt along.

  "Paul," Curt whispered, "Throw some water on his face before you roll him down there, I think him being awake might buy us some more time."

  Paul blanched at his orders, but Curt couldn't wait longer and ran for the main stairs, bending at the paper clip as he did. This was to be the trickiest part of the operation. It had taken him over thirty minutes to pick the lock to the attic the last time, now he would be lucky if he had five.

  Chapter 33

  The Thief, The Runaways and The Dead

  1

  Curt worked the paperclip, bending it back and forth as quickly as he could. His goal was to snap off a third of it, and this he would then re-bend, using it as the lever to turn t
he lock assembly. It broke off in seconds and Curt didn't know whether to be happy or worried over this. He decided to worry. The paperclip was likely old and now was brittle with age. Not a good thing.

  While he worried, he first bent the small piece into a U shape and then began to work on the larger one. This he tried to fashion into a series of V shaped waves ending in a very stiff U, which would act as the handle of his 'key'. He worked quickly, but a minute passed, and still he had only made two waves in the metal.

  Time seemed to be flying and after another minute, with sweat running into his eyes, he heard the first scream, it was as if it shook the very floor upon which he knelt. It was Amber.

  His hands went numb at the sound and he stopped working on the paperclip, his heart seemed to break inside his chest. For a few seconds his emotions became scrambled and his mind was all confusion. A part of him wanted to run to her, to battle the creature if need be, yet to do so would mean to give up on their one chance at escape.

  He was completely torn at what to do, but then he realized there hadn't been a second scream. Either she had died or had been incapacitated in the time it took to draw a breath, or she had screamed at the sight of something. Something horrible. Curt guessed at what she screamed at and it sent a long wave of shivers coursing just below his flesh. She would have to deal with the sight of the ghost of Mrs. Havacheck on her own.