After a pause, she spoke, “I think there’s…something.”
Evan rolled his eyes.
“Don’t give me that, Evan. You asked.”
“Right. So where’s it comin’ from? The red ‘un?”
“Don’t know. Better check just to be sure. I’ll come.”
“Naw, Dannie. You jus’ finish the rest of ‘em here. We’re gittin’ short on time.” Evan motioned to the approaching grayness, already appearing closer than their observation moments ago. “I’ll be fine. You finish checkin’ the others.”
Danielle proceeded along Topher’s Cove towards the house, ill-prepared for Edna. The grass stood taller than the neighboring lots, and shades were pulled in all windows. The house appeared vacant, but the sensation on her nape told her otherwise. She passed a rust-colored station wagon in the driveway. The concrete step made way to an off-white door with a murky peephole. A bronze number-five and a faintly illuminated doorbell hung on a weathered doorframe. She ceased breathing to listen. Only the whistling wind occupied her ears. Danielle was reminded of Evan’s “gittin’ short on time warning”, and pushed the doorbell.
A single ding responded, followed by a prolonged silence. No lights shined from around the edges of the shades; no sounds came from within. But something was alive within Five Topher’s Cove Lane. She could feel it.
At last, a floorboard creak revealed movement inside. The shuffle of large feet along a hardwood floor moved ever closer to the backside of the door. The peephole darkened. A locking mechanism released and the door creaked open.
The man looked to be in his nineties, bald and toothless, burdened by osteoporosis in his back, and arthritis in his movement. His facial wrinkles resembled a bulldog. An oversized grey cardigan hung over a frail body. Pity flooded Danielle as she looked into his elderly eyes. His glare was sorrowful and inquisitive, but unwelcoming. Danielle spoke in a tone appropriate for a funeral, “I’m sorry to bother you, sir. Are you aware there’s been an ordered evacuation of this area?”
The old man squinted at her. In monotone, he spoke, “Yes.”
His lack of urgency stumped her. “Sir…there’s a shelter inland about fifteen miles from here. We can get you there safely. There’s still time to…”
“No, thanks.” The man mumbled and frowned.
“Sir, this really isn’t a suggestion, it’s a mandatory evacuation. Is there anyone else in the house with you? We have buses in town square…”
“I am not leaving. Good day, miss”.
“Sir, this is an extremely dangerous place to—”
The door closed in her face. Stubborn old coot won’t live through this if I can’t get him out of here. She gazed toward the red house. Evan hadn’t come out yet, but she sensed no distress. She’d need a different approach to convince the elderly man to comply. She collected her thoughts for a minute and tried the doorbell once more.
The gait stomped much faster than the shuffle Danielle first heard. The door swung open. A girl in a frilly Shirley Temple-style red dress and grey apron, no more than eight years old, folded her arms. She tapped a Mary Jane shoe on the floor in impatience. Curly pigtails danced alongside her ears. She scowled at Danielle as if ready to attack.
“What?” The girl blurted.
“Umm…hello there. Aren’t you a pretty little girl—” Danielle’s attempt to soften the girl proved futile.
The girl emanated infallible hatred.
“Is your Grandpa home?” Danielle continued, “He was just—”
“He’s not here.”
“But there was an elderly gentleman just a moment ago—”
“Not here.”
“Little girl, why are you lying to me? I’m just trying to—”
“What is your problem? Are you stupid? I said he’s not here!”
Danielle bit her lip. The brat’s “stupid” comment brought ill feelings at university flooding back into her head. She wanted to lash out, but kept her cool. Never before had she sensed more pent up anger in such a small person. “Okay”, Danielle forced sweetness, “well, in any case if your grandpa is here or not, we need to get you to safety, young lady. The hurricane is making it very dangerous—”
“You can’t make me!” The brat stuck out her tongue and slammed the door.
Part of Danielle wanted to walk away from the front door. To hell with these miserable people. But she hadn’t volunteered to abandon difficult people. Safety was her priority. Evan would arrive soon, but she’d rather not rely on her brother for intimidation. She could be forceful herself. She took a measured step from the door and landed a solid kick. The door wobbled open with an imprint of dirt from her sneaker treads.
Danielle entered the foyer. Strawberry print wallpaper decorated the walls, peeled up at the creases. Ahead of her, a bay window over the kitchen sink displayed the storm and cast light on the kitchen linoleum and faded hardwood of the foyer. To her left, was an unkempt living room the color of dust. On her right, an equally neglected, but less messy dining room. The only light came from windows; lamps and sconces rested quietly in their places. The scene revealed no sign of a little girl or an old man.
“Hello?”
Faint groans came from the direction of the kitchen. The mixed scent of peaches and vomit strengthened as she proceeded into the kitchen. The room was dominated by green and yellow décor with typical objects: a microwave over the stove, a blender, knife rack on the counters, suspended rack of pans over a counter island, and a door to the backyard. A pantry opened on the right; on the left was a small study, windowless and darker than the rest of the house. A drinking glass rolled from the desk chair of the study. Danielle heard heavy struggled breathing, and saw a dark-haired scalp unlike the girl or elder man over the top of the chair. On the nearby desk, rested an unlabeled bottle. She picked up the rolling glass and smelled the remnants of homemade moonshine.
“Sir?” Danielle asked. Just how many people live here?
“Yooouuuu…bro…lock…” The young man’s head shifted away from her.
“Sir, we need to get you to a shelter. The storm is moving in quickly—”
“You…lock…” he repeated.
“Sir, I don’t understand you. Is there a little girl and an eld…”
“You…broke…the lock!” he shouted with gathered energy. His head tilted backward to the support of the desk chair.
“Sir, are you all right?”
A pair of floor-shaking thuds on the linoleum from behind stopped her. Danielle pivoted slowly. A creature disproportioned beyond humanity stood in the center of the kitchen. A wide and bare torso resembled an exaggerated bodybuilder; the neck-less head wore a dangerous sneer. Danielle stood eye-level with the beast’s waist. Upper legs wider than her shoulder breadth bulged beneath ripped gray pants. Danielle gasped, not needing her sense to read the monster as both feral and irrationally hostile.
“Go away!” the monster roared. With one arm, it ripped the microwave from the wall and threw it towards the sink. Danielle scanned desperately; her eyes stopped at the knife rack. She lunged for a handle and held the butcher knife before her, retreating toward the study.
“Wake up!” She spun the young man to face her and yelled. “Do you want to die? Wake up!”
The man was bearded and unkempt. His eyelids flickered, eyeballs pointed upward as if he were viewing his brain. Do I know him? He looks familiar. Danielle forced her glance from him to the beast. With another threatening roar, it left a fist indentation in the wall and edged closer.
“I want no trouble. I’m just gonna round up the people in here and get y’all to safety. You don’t hurt me, and I won’t use this knife,” she said, uncertain the monster understood her.
“Leave!” The beast shouted and dislodged the suspended rack of pans with a loud crash.
Danielle tapped and poked feverishly at the bearded man, but failed to break his trance. The beast clanged pans together and threw them around. Through the commotion, she almost missed the
voice from the front of the house.
“Dannie! Where are you? Dannie?”
“Evan! No!” Danielle shouted as her brother entered the kitchen.
From the study, the unkempt man fumbled from the desk chair and supported himself on the doorway. His brown eyes locked with Danielle.
I do know him! That’s…
Clang.
A sharp pain coursed through her head as a saucepan fell silently by her feet. She crumpled beside it, deaf and dizzy. Evan’s valiant leap onto the beast’s back was the last image before all went dark.
* * *
Danielle lifted her head from a desk. In amazement, she scanned the clarity of the scene, her tenth grade algebra class. Mr. Rouillard broadcasted math jargon and pointed at the chalkboard. His hairpiece threatened to dismount with every swing of his head, providing more entertainment than his lecture. Danielle rested her chin on her hand and caught herself twirling her hair, worn longer than her current style. A note dropped on her desk, from the red head girl to her right. It was from her old friend Kelly. Did she really ever look this young? Kelly’s blue eyes travelled from Danielle to the note and back.
“Open it,” Kelly whispered. When Danielle unfolded the note, she read Kelly’s bubbly writing, ‘I told you he likes you! He is staring again!’
Over Danielle’s shoulder, a boy in a desk by the window was fixated on her. He was the nonathletic, anti-social type. The type popular kids feared he would open fire on the class one day. Dwight, no, Dwayne. Yes, it was Dwayne. Danielle said hello a handful of times to Dwayne, but thought nothing of it more than a little self-preservation. If he really did open fire one day, she didn’t want to be regarded as the snobby unattainable cheerleader. She’d be spared; she was on his good side. She had a hunch he was never capable of such violence. She did not understand her intuition then, but she read his persona as genuine and innocent. There was a curious allure to this trait since the jocks in her circle of friends were charmers and liars. She could never admit empathy towards someone like Dwayne and still be “popular”. That was just how high school worked.
Why here? Why now? Why this memory? Danielle doodled everything she could remember on the brown paper textbook cover, the beast…a little pigtailed girl…a wrinkled old man… How am I doing this? None of this has happened yet! Oh, my God, Evan! She pinched herself in an attempt to wake up.
Kelly giggled. “Dannie what are you doing?”
The lecture and chatter of the classroom yielded to Dwayne as he yelled at the thin air between himself and the window. “No! I said no! Not now! Go away!”
Kelly was the first to be amused, and laughter spread around the class. Danielle wore a guilty smirk. She met Dwayne’s embarrassed brown eyes and straightened her face. Mr. Rouillard went to Dwayne and spoke to him in a hushed tone. Dwayne slouched, even more embarrassed with the teacher’s attention to his outburst.
Two minutes later, a bell chimed from the hallway and students gathered their belongings. Dwayne dropped several books as he rose, and spoke in a stern tone to thin air as he retrieved them, “Why did you do that? That’s not funny!”
Kelly shook her head and giggled. “Wow. What a head case. Come on, Dannie. Let’s go.”
Sarah, a tall girl with curly auburn hair, also on the cheerleading squad, met the girls in the hall. Danielle scowled, then forced a smile, unsure if this memory happened before or after Sarah stole her boyfriend. Kelly and Sarah carried on a frivolous conversation about homework and the mall.
Is all this necessary? I’d like to wake up now! Danielle turned toward the classroom door in time to collide with Dwayne, who moved as if he couldn’t leave the classroom fast enough. Danielle’s textbooks fell askew.
“I...I’m so sorry.” Dwayne reddened, diving to retrieve her books.
“It’s no problem, Dwayne.” She smiled.
He gaped as if honored she knew his name. Dwayne retrieved her algebra textbook and stopped.
Her face dropped. He’s examining the doodles!
Dwayne face was both awestruck and desperate. “You… these people… you see these people too?” he asked.
Danielle stared blankly. The “high school” Danielle did not know how to answer him. To her, it was random doodling. The images were not random after all, but a vision from her future self? How is that possible?
He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please,” he begged, “I need to know if…you know these people too?”
“I…sorry I don’t know what you mean,” the younger Danielle answered before the older Danielle could figure out what to say.
Dwayne slumped in defeat. “No…you have to know them…those drawings are them! They are! You see them! I know you see them too. No one sees them, but I do. I do, and you do too…pleeeaaassee…talk to them. Tell them I don’t want them to visit me anymore…I need you to talk to them...can you please talk to them? They will not listen to me, I have tried, and they don’t leave me alone! Help me, Danielle! Will you help me please, Danielle?”
“That’s enough, Dwayne. Why don’t you and I go to the school nurse?” said Mr. Rouillard as he arrived behind the frazzled boy. Danielle retreated to Kelly and Sarah, both who had been observing with faces of disgust. Mr. Rouillard aided Dwayne to his feet and escorted him down the hall.
“Whatever,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
Kelly suppressed a giggle.
Danielle frowned. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Not him…that,” Kelly said and pointed at a notebook Dwayne abandoned on the tile floor of the hall. Scribbled across the top of the page was the message, ‘I heart Dannie H.’
* * *
“There, there now. That’s a good girl. She is coming to,” a calm female voice became coherent.
Danielle opened her eyes. The scruffy brown-eyed man stood over her beside a young woman in a simple, but elegant gown. The woman wore straight blond hair like Danielle’s teenage self. Their faces were similar, but the elegant woman was prettier. Flawless, actually. Danielle glanced from her to the shaggy man; his grey shirt matched the color of her dress. She looked around. She had been placed on the dusty couch in the living room. Window shades had been raised for light. It appeared as if the room saw rare occupancy. How much time had passed? Where was Evan?
“Try not to strain yourself, dear.” The woman offered a compassionate smile and advised Danielle remain on the couch.
The scruffy man backed across the room and watched them longingly. Outside the living room window, a small weeping willow extended limbs as if gravity had been tipped on its side. Rain pelted the siding with great force and the howl of wind intensified.
“My God!” she said and sat up. A sharp pain throbbed where the saucepan hit her head. “Where’s my brother?”
“Dannie…it has been so long,” the scruffy man spoke with awe in his voice. “You’re more beautiful than ever.”
“Dwayne? Why, Dwayne? Why did you refuse to evacuate?” Danielle asked. The woman in gray stood between them, and stared with an adoring glow that made Danielle uncomfortable.
“You...remember me Danielle?” Dwayne asked with a curiosity like he hadn’t interacted with people in a long time.
Danielle had shoved memories of Dwayne to the back of her mind after his departure from high school to attend a school for “special” people. “Dwayne, how long have I been unconscious? Where’s Evan?”
The sound of loose objects slamming the outer walls of Five Topher’s Cove Lane increased. Dwayne sat on a loveseat, oblivious to anything, but her.
Danielle turned to the woman in the gown for a response and got nothing more than a heartfelt smile. “Stop staring at me,” Danielle snapped at the woman.
“Danielle, you can see them. I always knew you could,” Dwayne said. The wind battled to drown out his low tone.
A splintering rip preceded a loud thud. Danielle looked to the window. The weeping willow was no longer there.
“My God, Dwayne, Don’t you know how dangerou
s this storm—”
Broken glass from the kitchen bay window shattered into the house, and wind raced through. She heard airborne kitchen objects collide into walls or each other. Counter doors flapped wildly, her hair dancing across her cheek. She shot an urgent look to Dwayne, who staggered in drunken subconscious, then to the empty area where the woman had been. Danielle and Dwayne were alone.
Where’d she go? Danielle rose from the couch. The bottle of moonshine flew past her head and broke against the far wall.
“Come on Dwayne!” She grasped his hand and noticed scabbed-over slashes across his forearm. She dragged Dwayne through the foyer to the dining room, maneuvered a chair out of their path, and sought refuge under the table.
“Dwayne! Snap out of it!” She slapped his face.
He blinked and gazed around as if the hurricane were new and unexpected. “Dannie, I…I’m sorry you’re here...put you through this. Oh God, we’re going to die…I’m… It’s my fault!” His eyes rolled again toward his brain. He flailed, broke out into a sweat, and seized.
A chill climbed her spine. Behind her, a skinny teratoid skulked from the far end of the table. A menacing grimace forced upward by staples revealed a sneer of incisors. Cheek tendons were visible through a skin-like grey nylon, which stretched over eyeless sockets. The nose was tight to the face and void of cartilage. Clothing dangled from the torso, ripped to shreds, flailing wildly in the wind. The demon oozed with delirious fear. It slinked forward like a jaguar approaching prey.
“I…I…I’m…” Dwayne struggled to speak as he shook.
The hutch tumbled onto its side; shards of antique China littered the floor. A cold aura encompassed Danielle with the demon’s approach. She looked from the nightmarish creature to Dwayne, shifting in panicked convulsions. She forced the fear and chaos aside and stopped upon a revelation. When Dwayne was empathetic, a loving woman was with him. Now, he’s afraid, and a scary monster appeared.
“You…you make them. Don’t you, Dwayne?”
Dwayne’s stutter was unintelligible through his spasm.
Dark Light Book Three (Dark Light Anthology) Page 17