by Glenn Rolfe
“She seems to be okay, I guess, considering.”
Her mother’s brow furrowed.
“She was a little out of it.”
“Where’s Laura?”
That sick feeling swam in her stomach again.
“Oh, she was going to stay a bit longer.”
“And you, what, decided you wanted to walk home in the rain? Why didn’t you stay?”
She had to make up something better than she was giving me the creeps and I freaked out.
“I…have homework that I’m behind on. Mr. Pinard will kill me if I don’t give him a solid essay. He already extended me the weekend to get it done.”
She was surprised at how effortless the lie slipped past her lips.
“Where’s dad?”
“Out in the garage. Where else would he be?” She delivered this with her usual gallon of annoyance.
Michele stepped toward the garage door.
“I thought you had a paper to work on?”
“I just wanted to tell dad something.”
“Anything I need to know? I know you two have your little secrets.”
Her mom looked a little hurt. Michele felt bad, but not bad enough to spill the beans.
“It’s just a music thing.”
“Oh, and that can’t wait until your homework is finished?”
“I don’t want to forget it.”
Her mother went back to her book.
Michele stared at her a moment longer before crossing the room and heading out to her dad’s sanctuary.
He sat on his amp, eyes closed, playing along to AC/DC. He was in his element.
She closed the door and waited for him to notice her.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “Alexa, off.”
Angus Young’s solo stopped. She knew her classic rock gods. Her father had been tutoring her in rock history for as long as she could remember.
“What’s up?”
She walked over and strummed a finger across the strings. Less than beautiful noise came from the amp beneath his butt.
“I don’t know. I just… I wanted to tell you something and see if I’m being…paranoid.”
He turned a knob on his guitar, silencing the instrument so they could talk.
“Okay, shoot.”
“I just got back from visiting Aunt Ginny with Laura.”
“How was that?”
“Weird.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“How so?”
“She was…different. It was kind of creepy.”
“Did she do something?”
“Not really. I don’t know, it seems nuts, but it was more the feeling I got being there. You know, like when you sense something’s not right?”
“What did Laura say? Did she get the same vibe?”
“No, maybe. She said it was just because of Jennifer, which sounds reasonable, I know, but… there was Uncle Mike’s truck, too.”
“What about it?”
“It was parked in the trees out back of their trailer. And when I asked Aunt Ginny where he was she wouldn’t answer.”
“Hmm. I don’t know, kiddo. ”
“I was kind of hoping you might go over and check on them.”
He set his guitar in its stand and stood.
“I told mom that everything seemed okay and that I came home before Laura because I had homework to do.”
“You left Laura over there?”
“She thought I was being stupid.”
“Uncle Mike probably parked in the bushes because he shouldn’t have been driving in the first place, and your aunt, well, his problems aren’t something she likes to talk about. Tell you what,” he said. “Go work on your homework--”
“I don’t really have any homework. That’s just what I told mom.”
“Well, go do something to take your mind off it. If it’s still bugging you later, I’ll go swing by.”
She agreed and left him to his devices.
Her mother’s book was laid abandoned on the couch. She saw the umbrella and smoke through the living room window. Her mother’s nic fix couldn’t be bothered by any storm. The woman went out in blizzards. It was a nasty habit Michele vowed never to pick up.
In her room, she unplugged her Kindle, sat on her bed, and looked through her books. Her dad’s collection of horror novels and rocker biographies showed up alongside her Harry Potter novels. She looked at the collection of creepy covers. Some of them were terrible and looked like they were created by someone who just learned to use Photoshop. Friends at school could do a better job than some of these people. There were spooky houses, werewolves, lots of skulls, and dad’s favorite–zombies. One caught her eye. The simple drawing was of rows of pine trees set before a bursting green light. Images of the lights in the lake…of the dream she’d had of Greg and the horrible light coming from his eyes.
Despite her apprehension, she clicked on the book cover and waited for it to load.
She fell asleep wrapped up in a story about green lights and a dog that could sense something was wrong.
Chapter Twelve
Aunt Ginny had spaced out several times since Laura returned apologizing for the way Michele ran off. Sitting where Michele had, Laura couldn’t stop looking out the window at her uncle’s truck parked halfway in the woods. It was odd, but not horror movie odd. Still, the more she gazed at the sight, the louder Michele’s voice chirped in her head.
Aunt Ginny’s cold touch startled her back into the room. Sharp pain shot up her arm from the woman’s grip.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
Laura’s mug toppled to its side, tea spread out across the table.
“Ow! Aunt Ginny, that hurts.”
The tea rolled toward the pale-faced woman holding her wrist. Laura watched as the liquid reached the table’s edge and trickled over onto her aunt’s lap. Aunt Ginny just gazed at her, unaware or not caring about the spilt tea.
Laura wrenched her arm free, massaging her wrist as her eyes welled up.
Aunt Ginny sat back. Her face flat, not quite pleasant, but not upset, either. It was weird.
She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she was frightened.
“I…can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course,” Aunt Ginny said, lifting her mug to her thin lips.
Laura stood.
Passing her aunt to get to the hall, two more things struck her as being off. The tea she’d spilt had pooled in the lap of her aunt’s flower print dress, and the mug at her lips was already empty—she’d noticed it when she came back inside–yet the woman went on with the charade.
She was going to pee, say her good-byes, and then get the hell out of here.
Laura finished up and washed her hands. A nasty odor, like the smell of her basement whenever it flooded, but with mixed with more of a garbage smell, permeated the small bathroom.
She went to wipe her hands on the hand towel by the door and noticed the small puddle of brown goop beneath it. She chose to wipe her hands on her jeans instead.
The door knob turned, but didn’t catch. It just spun around and around. Laura jiggled it and pulled.
Nothing.
“Aunt Ginny?”
A chill ran through her.
She pounded the door with the side of her palm. Fear tightened its claws into her spine.
Stop it. That’s Michele’s paranoia.
She jiggled the useless knob again.
“Aunt Ginny? The door is stuck. Can you hear me?”
Placing her ear to the flimsy wooden barrier, she listened for her aunt.
A floorboard creaked.
“Hey, I really should be going. My mom’s gonna think I got lost.”
Her mouth ran dry, her heart pounded. The image of her aunt, expressionless and pale as a vampire, dress soaked in tea, waiting in the dead silence on the other side of the door, made her chest tighten.
“Aunt Ginny, please,” she said, her voice cracking.
She d
idn’t want to be trapped in here with that awful smell any longer. She wanted to go home. She craned her head. Through the small window above the toilet, she saw the day had been drained of its light. The gray rain-filled sky was giving way to the early darkness of an October afternoon.
She flicked the light switch on the wall and reached to bang her fist on the door.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Nearly jumping from her flesh, she cradled her trembling hand to her chest. Her aunt’s raspy voice was unsettling and suddenly too close, just outside the door.
“So is your uncle.”
Uncle Mike?
“I thought you two might share a few moments together in there,” she said.
What the heck was she going on about?
“We’d hoped to have both you and Michele join us at the lake, but you’ll have to do.”
On the verge of crying, she stepped back and sat down at the edge of the tub behind her, her back brushing against the drawn shower curtain. Something fell and made a small splash. The hair on her neck lifted.
She turned to the closed shower curtain.
“I thought you two might share a few moments together in there.”
Without looking, she knew she was not alone.
The source of the foul stench was behind the curtain. Laura stood, her knees weak, her head swimming in a mess of confusion and fear.
Before she could change her mind, Laura grabbed the beige, cloth curtain and pulled it aside. The sight within stole the air from her lungs.
Uncle Mike’s naked body lay within filth-filled water.
Laura screamed.
The bathroom door swung inward. The light bulb flickered, then died.
‘Oh my God, please….” she said, stumbling in reverse until her back was against the far corner of the room.
Her aunt’s waif-thin silhouette stood in the doorway and made no effort to come closer.
Laura lowered her chin and whispered, “I just want to go home. I just want to go home.”
A green light came to life in the darkened room.
She raised her gaze to the light’s source—her aunt’s eyes.
“This won’t hurt.”
“Stay away from me.”
“You’ll see. Just like Michael. You’ll see.”
Aunt Ginny began to encroach, the twin green globes closing in.
“You will become one of us.”
Lightning flashed above.
The window.
Laura spun, stepping up on to the toilet, and slid the rectangular window open. Rain water plopped and pounced up from the sill mixing with the tears on her cheeks.
She thrashed at the small screen, knocking it out on the second try. Latching on to the wet sill as best she could, Laura began to haul herself up.
The cold grasp on her ankles, slimy and powerful, caused her to cry out.
The neighbors.
“Help!”
She didn’t know if anyone would hear her over the storm.
Aunt Ginny gripped her other ankle and yanked her back. Laura’s hands slipped as she fell, hitting the vinyl-tiled floor face first. Stars burst, exploding and fading before her eyes. She’d been able to get her elbows down in time to somewhat brace her fall, otherwise she might have broken her nose or been knocked out.
The door to the room slammed shut, bringing her current predicament back to the front. Her legs were free, but the hazy green light from her aunt had vanished. She couldn’t tell if she’d left the room or if she was here in the shadows.
Was she still here with her? She couldn’t tell. Pulling her knees up under her, Laura crouched, her back once again to the wall.
She would have left me here. She knows I’d climb out.
She didn’t dare make another attempt to escape. She might not be so lucky the next time. Instead, she sat in the dark, waiting to see what the next flash of lightning would reveal.
She needed a weapon.
There was only one thing she could think of that was within her reach.
Slowly, she inched to the toilet. She wasn’t sure whether her aunt could see her. She didn’t care. This was her only chance.
Her fingers crept beneath the lid covering the back of the toilet. It was heavy and would definitely do some damage if she connected with it.
Lightning split the sky and lit the room just as she hefted the porcelain cover free.
Her aunt was sitting on the side of the tub. Eye wide open, her hideous mouth went from a grin back to a straight line just before the room gave into darkness.
Praying for guidance, Laura stepped forward and swung the heavy cover in her aunt’s general direction with all she had. A loud crack met her swing, followed by a thud, the sound of a body hitting the floor. Her momentum carried her too far and knocked her off balance as she collided with the tub just below her knees. The toilet back fell and she followed it down, splashing into the murky water, onto the body within.
Her chin smacked hard against the porcelain weapon. She grasped at the sides of the tub desperate not to make much more contact with her uncle’s body. The front of her shirt dripped with the foul, slimy water. On shaky arms, she raised herself, using her right leg first for balance then for purchase as she eased her way out.
Her uncle let out a sudden gasp of putrid breath, followed by a low phlegmy moan.
Laura was up in a heartbeat. She moved for the door, tripping over her aunt’s body as the water in the tub started to slosh around.
Crashing into the closed door, she tried the door knob again. It spun in useless circles.
“No, no, no!” she said, slapping her slimy palms against it.
She hurried across the room ignoring the moans and splashes coming from the tub, stepping over the crumpled body on the floor, as something wet tried to snatch her ankle. She pulled her leg free, and without hesitation, used the toilet as a launch pad. Her head and arms cleared the bottom of the window sill as her back slammed into the top. She came down hard, the sill catching her just beneath her chest, knocking the wind out of her. Managing to hold her position with her elbows braced against the outside of the trailer, as uncomfortable as it was, she worked to regain her composure and get enough air to keep moving. Pelted by the deluge, she held steady as lightning flashed again followed by a thundering crash from the heavens. Gritting her teeth, able to breath somewhat, she wiggled to her stomach and placed her palms out in preparation for the fall.
Something cold scraped against her leg as she dropped free to the lawn. Looking up from the ground, she saw the window bathed in the green luminance.
She hurried to her feet and broke for the road.
Someone stood in her way.
A twin set of emerald eyes blossomed in the face before her.
“Greg?”
It couldn’t be. He was…Michele was right.
Shifting direction, she ran for the neighbor’s yard.
Laura made it three steps before something fat and wet whipped around her throat and halted her progress.
She fought for breath, slapping and digging at what felt like a wet, thick, rubber hose wrapped around her neck. Her whole face tightened, and her eyes bulged from their sockets, ready to pop.
The dark and stormy night grew darker still.
Aunt Ginny and Uncle Mike stood on the steps watching as the thing around her throat entered her mouth.
The world slipped away as her back hit the ground.
Chapter Thirteen
“Sheriff, it’s Lilith Botwell.”
Shit, what now?
Shane put down the report Deputy Horner turned in this afternoon about a robbery in Naples. Looking across the room at David Crowley, the red-headed, hundred and twenty-pound dispatcher on loan from Hollis Oaks, caused his guts to begin to roll. He hoped to hell this was a home invasion or even a domestic disturbance call; anything was better than a missing—
“You’re gonna wanna take this, now.” Crowley punched a button and the phone on Shane�
��s desk lit up.
“Sheriff Davis here.”
The Neilson phone rang and rang.
Botwell had said that her daughter, Laura, had gone to check in on the family this afternoon. She had not come home.
Shane slammed the phone down and held his head in his hands, running his fingers over his long, gray mane.
The goddamn story was getting old.
After placing a call to the Cote residence, he stood, and went to the door.
“Call Horner, have him come to me over to the Neilson’s place.”
“Yes, sir.”
On the way across town, Shane kept his eyes peeled for anything suspicious. Any vehicles or faces he might not recognize. Not that he knew everybody in Avalon, but they didn’t get a lot of out-of-towners. At least the rain had stopped.
Laura Botwell had been with her cousin Michele, Bret Cote’s kid. But Michele had come home earlier and according to Bret she was at the house asleep. Bret offered to meet him at the Neilson place, and sure enough, he was there waiting when Shane arrived.
“Sheriff.”
Shane shook his hand. “You said there was something I should know before we head in?”
“Something my daughter said this afternoon after she came home.”
Please don’t mention lake monsters…
“I know, I know,” Cote said. “She’s been through a lot, all of us have, but when she came home she said Ginny was acting weird, that she felt like something was off over here. That’s why she came home when she did. She wanted me to check on them.”
“And?”
“I told her it was to be expected with all that they were going through… I told her if it was still eating at her later, we’d swing by. She fell asleep, so…”
“You figured it was just her making more of it than it was.”
“Yeah.”
“And Laura stayed?”
“That’s what Michele said.”
“I’ll have to talk to her.”
Shane gazed at the trailer sitting in darkness. Not a single light burned within. He noticed the open window on the far left and pointed. “See that?”
“Screen on the lawn,” Cote said.
Shane pulled his gun. “Stay behind me.”