Aftertaste

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He still had to prove his point.

  “Everyone, hands on the table . . . fingertips just touching. Now, clear your minds . . . think of the entities in the house!”

  “Should we close our eyes?” Janet asked mischievously.

  “Don’t be silly,” Keith said. “We’re proving a point.”

  “Does anyone have a question for the spirits?” Andrew asked.

  “I do, I do!” Keith said, “Come on, Cantrell, admit it! The old wife was kind of a cold and boring vessel, eh? And the new one promised all kinds of hot action!”

  Janet and Lacy laughed; Alexi didn’t.

  Andrew had meant for the table to move; he’d meant to prove that they could move it just as the medium had done. He touched the leg with his foot and put pressure on his hands, hopefully so that none could see.

  As he had expected, he got the table to move. As he hadn’t expected, it moved violently.

  “See! There you go!” Keith said, laughing. “I’m sorry, Lacy—your medium was a total sham.”

  Of course the table moved violently. Keith and Janet were aiding and abetting his trial!

  “So she was,” Lacy said. “Maybe,” she added quietly. She looked toward the door, as if she was eager to leave herself. “But, hey, it’s good theater. And I’ve got to get home myself. Cats, you know,” she told them. “I have three of them. They expect to be fed at night. Make yourselves at home; I get back at about six, and we’ll plan breakfast for eight. Checkout is eleven, remember, and you can hang around, but I have to have you out of your rooms by then.” She smiled. “We have to clean up for the next guests coming in.”

  They all bid her good night.

  And they had the house alone, the four of them, just as they had planned.

  “Let’s keep playing!” Janet suggested.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Keith said, looking at Janet. Andrew was surprised. Keith looked like a linebacker. He wasn’t the type to be easily frightened. Andrew wasn’t actually a slouch himself; he worked with computers but kept up at the gym.

  “Then get up, my love,” Janet said. “This vessel right here is curious!”

  Keith left the table. Andrew was surprised that Alexi didn’t get up. She seemed transfixed.

  “Alexi,” he said softly.

  His wife’s huge blue eyes turned to him. “We have to know!” she said softly.

  “Know what?” he asked her, perplexed. He shouldn’t have brought her here. The whole thing had sounded like so much fun, but now he was worried. He was seeing mannequins move himself, and he wasn’t as suggestible as Alexi.

  “The truth. Andrew, it’s going to be important. We have to know the truth.”

  “Alexi—”

  “Leave!” she said firmly.

  “Alexi, we’re an hour from Richmond—”

  “Put your hands on the table, Andrew,” she told him.

  He sighed and did so. “Hey, we’ve already proved a point,” he said.

  Alexi spoke now. “Clear your minds. Concentrate on this house, on history, on the past. Think about a time long past, when a country was healing, when people had begun to travel again. Think about coming home . . . to your wife. About being suspicious of your wife. About meeting a new woman. About revenge on those who you thought stole your life or your youth and your country . . . concentrate on the people who came here . . .”

  Alexi was doing it! Andrew thought. He wasn’t, but Alexi was. She was making the table move, because it was rolling again.

  “What is the truth? If there’s a spirit or an entity out there, please, let us know the truth,” Janet said quietly.

  Alexi began to speak in a strange voice.

  “Help me! Help me get her out of my house! They were wrong; Angus wasn’t a killer. It was her! Sarah . . . Sarah came, and Sarah killed, and Angus was a fool. She made him into a cheater. Just like you!”

  Alexi was staring straight at Keith.

  “What?” Keith demanded. “Hey, I’m not a cheater!”

  Janet stared at him.

  “She’s lying! I don’t know what she’s talking about. Ah, come on, baby. Alexi, what the hell are you doing to me?”

  Alexi ignored him; she was speaking in the funny voice again. “No one would have thought that he would have been unfaithful to me. It was her! He believed her lies . . . help me!”

  There was strange silence; Andrew could feel the tension around him.

  “Help me, help me, help me!”

  The words came from Alexi’s lips. Andrew wondered how she had managed to change her tone of voice so.

  “Alexi—” he said. What the hell was she doing? Janet and Keith were their friends.

  “Help me!” she screamed.

  As she did, the house was suddenly pitched into blackness.

  Andrew felt a chill of pure terror seep into him. He started to stand; he felt his wife’s hand on his wrist. Her fingers were like a steel trap; they were as cold as ice.

  “Jesus!” Keith cried.

  “Oh, my God!” Janet gasped.

  The table fell as she leapt to her feet.

  The lights came back on.

  Alexi was still in her chair; the others were standing.

  “What happened?” Alexi demanded.

  Janet stared at her from the safety of Keith’s arms. She started to laugh. “Oh, Alexi, you’ve had us all fooled. That was great. You were amazing! You should just become a medium—you’ll freak everyone out!”

  Alexi stood, angry. “I didn’t do anything—I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Alexi, we’re onto you!” Keith said, and he laughed, too. “Except, tell Janet the truth—you were playacting. I never cheated on anyone.”

  “I never said you did.”

  “Alexi, you did!” Keith said.

  “She was fooling around; come on, guys, snap out of it!” Andrew said. He looked at his wife. “She’s had us all fooled all these years—she’s the brave one and the prankster.”

  Janet giggled nervously. “Alexi, I gotta admit, that was creepy good. Amazing!”

  “Stop it!” Alexi said. “Stop it! I didn’t do anything.”

  Andrew wondered if the scary history was really getting to her; she had to have acted out what she had just done, but it seemed that she didn’t realize it herself.

  He didn’t want a huge fight among good friends, and he knew he’d have to defend his wife. He loved Alexi. She loved him. They were lucky. But what the hell had she been trying to do with Keith and Janet? He had to break it all up for now, though, ease the tension.

  “Hey, let’s check out the bedrooms again,” he said.

  “Sure—I’m glad you claimed the murder room!” Janet said.

  “We’ll take the one down the hall, to the right,” Keith said.

  “Yeah? You may be sleeping by yourself, mister,” Janet told Keith.”

  Keith groaned. “It was an act! Right, Alexi?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alexi said.

  “Alexi!” Andrew groaned.

  “I didn’t accuse Keith of anything,” she said.

  “Okay, let’s check out the rooms,” Andrew suggested. He stood as casually as he could and walked toward the foyer.

  He passed the mannequin. The mannequin of Catherine Cantrell.

  Damn it! It appeared that the damned thing had moved again, that she watched him as he walked.

  Stop it—be sane! he told himself.

  “Come on, guys!”

  They followed him up the stairs. First, they walked past the murder room and all piled into the room at the left. There was no mannequin in the room.

  “We’ll take this one!” Keith said. He plopped down on the bed. As he did so, they heard, “Oh, Keith!”

  Spinning around, Andrew saw that Janet had taken a doll off the bed from the bedroom across the hall. She remained in the hallway herself, and the doll—as creepy looking as the mannequin—was just inside the doorw
ay. Janet made it dance. “Oh, Keith, you better not be a lying scumbag!”

  Andrew had to laugh. Alexi cracked a small smile.

  “Get it out and stop it!” Keith said.

  Andrew took his wife by the shoulders. “Come on, guys, we’re supposed to be laughing here, remember? Alexi, let’s go to bed, shall we?”

  “I can’t! I can’t go to sleep here,” she said.

  “Well, I’m going to sleep,” Keith said.

  “Great. There’s a room in the attic,” Janet teased him.

  “Alexi! Tell her the truth!” Keith implored.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alexi protested.

  Keith, angry, got up and brushed by them. He hurried back downstairs.

  “All-righty then!” Janet said. “Maybe he does have a guilty conscience! Whatever, I am actually exhausted. Good night, all!”

  She prodded Andrew and Alexi out to the hallway. Andrew stood uncertainly. “Go to bed,” Janet told them. “I suspected him and that little twat he sees for coffee before work. I’m sorry, all. And thanks, Alexi, for the truth.”

  “I didn’t—” Alexi began.

  “Good night; we’ll sort it all out in the morning,” Andrew said. He drew Alexi behind him and they walked into the murder room.

  Alexi stood at the foot of the bed. “It was here, Andrew. It was here that Sarah Cantrell killed her husband. I think she killed him because he fell out of love with her, and even if their Yankee visitors had been his enemies in the war, he was sick of the carnage. You know? I think that she was the really evil one! He knew that he’d killed Catherine for nothing. She was the one. She came here first as a friend, and she killed people, and then she killed Catherine. History has it all backward—because Sarah was the survivor, and that’s the story she told. But it was a lie.”

  “Let’s get some sleep, Alexi,” Andrew said. He stripped down to his boxers and slid between the sheets, wondering how what had seemed like such a fun and wonderful idea as a weekend getaway for friends had turned into such a disaster.

  She kept staring at the bed.

  “Alexi, please!” he said softly. “Alexi, I love you, let’s please get some sleep and hope we can fix this all in the morning.”

  She shook her head. “Please,” she said aloud, and she wasn’t speaking to him. “Please, keep us safe through the night. We feel for you; we believe in you. Keep us safe through the night! Protect us in this house!” She looked at him seriously. “If you speak to them nicely—like Lacy says she did—they’ll leave you alone.”

  “Speak to them nicely?” Andrew said. “Oh, come on, please, Alexi—”

  “Speak to them nicely!” she insisted.

  “Uh—yeah. Hi, there, you all,” he said. “Please, let us sleep here tonight, and don’t wake us up, and . . . wow, I’m sure you were all really great people! Love ya all!” he said.

  Alexi groaned. “Don’t make fun of them!” she protested.

  “Sorry. Um, hello, and please just let us sleep peacefully?” he asked, looking at Alexi.

  “Better!” she said.

  “Okay, Alexi, great, now come to bed,” Andrew said.

  After undressing, she crawled in beside him. She squeezed his hand and moved close to him. Usually when she did so, he experienced an instant erection.

  That night, he shriveled like a prune. Pathetic.

  But he squeezed her hand in return. He thought about getting up and making the drive back to Richmond. Then, of course, he’d have no manhood left at all. He gritted his teeth; sleep. If he could just fall asleep, he’d make it through the night, and in the morning, everything would be fine.

  “It’s all right; we’re safe,” she said.

  Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

  He lay awake for what seemed like forever, listening to the ticking of the old clock on the dresser. After some time, however, he fell asleep.

  He knew he had fallen asleep because he woke with a start when a terrible scream from below seemed to shatter the night.

  His eyes flew open.

  And it was above him.

  It.

  The mannequin of Catherine Cantrell.

  It leaned over him, its glass eyes on him as if it saw him. He screamed himself. He screamed long and loud, and in pure terror. Instinct made him rise in desperation and push at the thing.

  “No!” Alexi cried, leaping to her feet. The mannequin had fallen back, but it hadn’t fallen down. It was as if it had taken a step back.

  The scream from below sounded again. “Come on!” Alexi told him. Before he could stop her, she was running to the stairs. Andrew jumped up to follow her; he crashed into Janet as she came bolting out of her room as well.

  “What? What the hell?” Janet demanded.

  “Help!” Alexi called from below. “Help us, help us, now!”

  Andrew and Janet stared at one another. Wordlessly, they turned toward the stairs as well and raced down.

  And Andrew didn’t believe what he saw.

  The mannequin of Sarah Cantrell was in the parlor. She had the axe in her hands. So far, she had axed half the sofa, trying to hit Keith, who was desperately avoiding her blows while Alexi looked for a weapon to use against the mannequin. She found a rolled-up newspaper and smacked the Sarah Cantrell mannequin on the head. The mannequin didn’t even notice.

  “Newspaper, Alexi? Get something hard!” Keith screamed in panic.

  The mannequin of Angus Cantrell was walking in from the kitchen, jerking as he did so, glass eyes staring straight ahead.

  “No!” Keith screamed.

  “No!” Alexi gasped, and she raced forward, but the mannequin of Sarah Cantrell turned the axe toward her, and Alexi had to duck, screaming.

  “No, no, no!” Keith said, frozen against the wall.

  Sarah Cantrell turned toward him again.

  “Stop!” Alexi cried.

  She rushed past the axe-wielding mannequin and grasped a chair; it shattered as the axe was turned on her. Keith found strength; he rose and rushed forward, but the mannequin of Angus stopped him, throwing him back against the wall. He fell with a little whimper and went limp.

  Andrew made a dash for the mannequin. It threw him off as if he were a fly. Janet screamed and raced toward the door; the Sarah Cantrell mannequin caught her and dragged her back by the hair. Andrew made a dive for its feet, and it fell over . . .

  But it rose, and it started coming toward him, and they were both coming toward him . . .

  He was vaguely aware of movement from the foyer. The mannequin of Catherine Cantrell was coming down the stairs. Not walking. Gliding.

  He couldn’t move; he heard Alexi scream, but he couldn’t help her. He could only stare upward as the mannequin of Sarah Cantrell came toward him, the axe raised high . . .

  The police arrived just at the break of dawn. Officer Landsfield stared around at the carnage in the parlor. “Looks like a massacre, all right,” he said.

  Arms and legs were strewn about the parlor.

  “Young people,” his partner, Officer Merrill, said, a note of sorrow in his voice. “They just have no respect for history.”

  “So,” Landsfield said, and he turned to look at Andrew, who had managed to dress by now and was wondering himself what had happened. “Can you explain? I’m not sure yet just what we’re going to charge you with!”

  He looked over at Alexi, who was standing there, shivering, by his side. He arched a brow at her. How in the hell were they ever going to explain this?

  “They did it to themselves,” Alexi said weakly.

  “What?” Landsfield demanded.

  “Well, you see . . . I woke up when one was on top of me,” Andrew said. “I didn’t realize she was just trying to warn me. Honestly, history has it all wrong. Sarah was the killer. My wife contacted Catherine, somehow, and . . . well, Sarah went after Keith, and I guess Angus was trying to protect Sarah—fool, he still loved her—and then Catherine came down to save us
all. And she did. As you can see,” he said, trying for a smile and a bit of humor, “Catherine is still standing. The pieces you see belong to Sarah and Angus.”

  “Oh, funny guy, huh? I’ll get a pack of other charges to add to vandalism!” Landsfield told him.

  “It’s the truth!” Alexi said.

  “And who creamed you on the head?” Landsfield demanded, turning to Keith.

  Keith opened his mouth to explain; he closed his mouth and waved a hand in the air. No one was going to believe him.

  Janet remained silent as well.

  Andrew let out a long sigh. “Look, please. We were scared to death. I don’t know what happened. Maybe we imagined it. We thought we were under attack. I’ll pay for all the damages,” he said. It might put them back a year, but he would pay for the damages—and happily, if they could just leave the Cantrell house.

  “Lacy, what do you say?” Landsfield asked.

  Lacy was back leaning against the door frame of the parlor. “Let them go; I’ll take a check for the damage. Just let them go.” She walked into the room and to the mannequin of Catherine Cantrell. The mannequin didn’t move. She picked it up awkwardly and put it back in the foyer. She shook her head and moved it to the window. “There. She’s all alone now, so she can greet people.”

  “I’ll write a check,” Andrew said.

  “You write a check, and don’t you ever come back to this town, young man!” Landsfield warned him.

  “I swear!” Andrew promised him. He looked at the others. “Let’s get our stuff—and get out!”

  They moved faster than bats out of hell.

  Ten minutes later, they were packed, badly dressed, and not one of them had brushed their hair or their teeth, but they didn’t give a damn. They were in their cars, and their engines were revving.

  “You okay?” Andrew asked Alexi.

  She nodded, smiling. “I’m fine,” she said, reassuring him. “I knew they could move!” she added in a whisper.

  Had the damned things moved? Or had they all scared themselves into a frenzy?

  Andrew didn’t think that he’d ever know.