Latham's Landing

by Tara Fox Hall

  The figure shifted on the dock. There was a soft clicking noise, like a dog’s claws on wood.

  Lease sat there, considering his options, his eyes flicking up to the house and then back again to the figure, his hands at the motor’s controls. On the seventh glance, he saw the figure was missing.

  The sliding sound of nails on steel came from the bow of his boat.

  Lease panicked, yanking on the motor. It roared to life and he gunned it, speeding away from shore without looking back.

  When he was fifty yards away—far enough away to feel safe, he stopped and threw out an anchor. Then he tried to get a hold of himself.

  You’ve got two bodies in the boat, and it’s starting to smell like it. You’ve got to get rid of them by daybreak, clean out all the blood, and get the boat back to your brother.

  Lease was tempted to dump Drake and Bowman over the side. But what if they floated to shore? Mac had told him time and time again that bodies at Latham’s Landing disappeared forever. He’d promised that, in fact. But what if the bodies didn’t wash up there?

  Lease worked the problem over in his mind for close to an hour with no solution. Finally, he levered Bowman out of the boat, the body landing in the water with a splash. It slowly floated away, toward the island.

  Lease then tried to haul Drake out of the boat as well, but the man’s sudden groan scared him so much he dropped him. Closer inspection showed his bullet had only grazed Drake’s temple, not put him down for good, as Lease had intended.

  How the hell did I miss at such close range?

  Lease huddled on the boat seat, pulling his coat around himself. The night had gotten chilly suddenly. There was unexpectedly another loud peal in the night air.

  He called Mac as a gonging faded away

  “You here yet?” Mac asked, tense. “I’m at the main house. Follow the lights.”

  “It’s too risky tonight for me to dock, Mac,” Lease replied, unwilling to admit he’d seen the dock demon. Saying it would make the thing real. “What the hell is that noise?”

  “Just the bell. Come on and tie to the dock already.”

  “Why is it ringing?”

  “It’s feeding time,” Mac said with a laugh. “You’d better get here before you miss all the fun.” He hung up.

  Lease huddled on the boat seat, shivering. But he made no move to start the motor.

  Caroline, Barb, and Helter sat with their backs against the wall, the fire burning brightly in front of them, the dwindling pile of incense and herbs to Caroline’s right. Nearby was Helter’s sled with the charges, and his snowmobile, pointed towards the house, ready to move to higher ground if the lake water encroached. Beyond that to Helter’s right was the tent and the propane cooker.

  After eating most of Barb’s food, they had saved the potato chips and soda for a hasty breakfast. None of them wanted to admit they might be here longer than that.

  For the first hour of darkness, they did nothing but sit in silence, every rustle bringing pointed guns and held breath. But as the second hour also slowly passed with no attack, Helter suggested that they move camp.

  “Why?” Barb asked, uneasy.

  “Because I’m fairly sure if an attack does come, it’s going to come from the direction of the house, and whomever is there,” Helter said. “We can’t see over this wall. So we keep the water to the front and you face that, Barb, while Caroline gets some sleep in the tent. I’ll move the snowmobile so it's between us and the house, parked above us on that outcrop. Then I’ll go up on top of the wall, face the house from behind it, and keep watch.”

  “What if whatever came last night comes back to the tent?” Caroline questioned. “The tent wall could be torn in two before you could make a move, and I’d be there helpless—”

  “We’re going to be taken easily if we don’t get some sleep,” Helter said tiredly. “I’ve got to rest, Caroline. I was up all night.”

  “Then you go first,” she said. “But do it right here. Get between us, and let Barb take up your position. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Caroline nodded, then sighed. “I’d try for the shore with the boat if I was sure a storm wouldn’t appear. I think the island is focused on whoever came in that chopper and that boat. But the moment we go to leave I think we’ll be noticed again.”

  Helter nodded once, then lay down.

  A few moments after he fell asleep, Barb said, “You know, my sister told me not to come here.”

  “Why?” Caroline said.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Didn’t you ask her?” Caroline said with a trace of sarcasm.

  “She’s dead,” Barb said.

  Caroline stared at her.

  “She’s what got me into the paranormal,” Barb explained. “After she died in a car accident, I started getting these post-it notes left in places. Nothing deep, ‘just have a nice day’, or ‘I’m thinking of you’ written on them.” She paused. “But last week, for the first time, she sent me warnings not to come here.”

  “Did she say what would happen if you did?” Caroline asked.

  Barb shook her head. “No. But I’m wishing now I listened to her.”

  Caroline stayed silent.

  Barb threw another log on the fire. “Do you guys want to tell me the truth about why you’re here? I don’t think I believe that you were joyriding around on your snowmobiles anymore, after everything you’ve both said.”

  Caroline wavered, then told her a summary of her story of Rob, his death, and her failed quest to burn the house down with gasoline, as well as Helter’s own plan. “We both want to destroy it. But Helter’s explosives are all we have left to try.”

  “So you believe the house is alive?”

  “I believe something evil exists here,” Caroline said, after a moment. “And that it never sleeps.”

  There was a snuffling sound suddenly from the darkness in back of them. Caroline pointed her gun in an instant, then carefully shone a flashlight beam into the inky black above them. Several unnaturally huge wolves looked back down at her from a few feet away, their eyes reflecting reddish in the yellow light.

  Caroline fired at one. It howled in anger as the bullet clipped its ear, then the pack loped away up the long granite staircase, sounds of their passage fading.

  Helter slept on, oblivious.

  “Do you think we’ll make it?” Barb asked.

  “As long as our bullet and herb supply does,” Caroline said wryly, igniting some more incense.

  Mac sat at his bedroom window, watching with interest as Chung Lai ran out the door of the main house into the night. After a few moments, the other girl, Delilah, followed her in a crouching walk, darting terrified looks all around her.

  Mac had only ever let the women run around the main house when he hunted them, because he usually only had a day to enjoy the chase. With the weekend off, he had several days. It was time to try new things. Letting the island soften them up for him was the first.

  He made sure the door to his room was locked, then set his alarm for one a.m. Grinning, he lay down to get a few hours of sleep.

  Chung Lai tripped over a raised stone and went sprawling, the rough stone abrading her legs. She cried out, then bit her lip, cursing her noise. Keep quiet. Mac finds you, he’ll kill you.

  She stood, then tried to get her bearings. The house was to her left. She was in some kind of weedy lawn. There was a forest in front of her. Water must lie beyond that, she could smell it, and hear some kind of faint water sound.

  She looked behind her. There was a huge tower, some kind of building beyond that was being repaired, and a set of stairs leading down the opposite side of the tower. Which way was safest?

  Mac was crazy. She’d known when he took her in the helicopter that she wasn’t coming back. Not that she wanted to. Back in her hometown, she’d planned to go to America, to be a model and have all the things she never would have gotten in China. Instead, she’d become
an American whore.

  She had to get off this island and start over somewhere new, find a new life. That asshole would kill her. She would have to kill him instead. What she needed was a weapon…

  Something glinted at her feet. Chung Lai reached down and dug at the earth, uncovering a rusty metal spike a good six inches long. She reached to her waist, untying the strip of leather that had been her hand constraints. Carefully, she wrapped it around the steel, to give her a better grip.

  There might be others waiting in the buildings to hurt her. She was better off running as far and as fast as possible.

  Gripping her new weapon, she headed off into the long brush.

  Delilah sniffled, edging out the door, her terrified eyes looking in all directions. God, where was she? This must be that wacko’s private resort. He’d let them go, so no one must be anywhere close by. She had to find a phone, call for help.

  She didn’t belong in a place like this. She hadn’t belonged in the Asian brothel. But all they’d had to do was find out she was an underage runaway, and they’d had all control. She wasn’t going back to her bitch of a mom, who’d put her out on the street at thirteen after discovering her boyfriend masturbating with Delilah’s panties in his hand.

  Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Get going.

  Delilah turned and headed into the building under repair ahead of her, looking for a phone.

  There was soft growl of warning. Chung Lai stopped instantly, holding the spike ready to strike. She was almost out of the waist high weeds. Just another thirty yards.

  A furry head rose from the long grass in front of her. Then two more joined it, staring at her. The lead wolf gave another warning growl, then the three began to advance.

  Chung Lai attacked, her lunge and swipe with the spike connecting the snout of the wolf. It let out a surprised whine, then jumped back.

  Chung Lai took the opening, sprinting fast through the weeds. The wolf pack looked after her in confusion, then let out a combined howl, racing after her.

  The woman raced to a small ground floor patio, climbed the ornate spiked fence to the second level, then ran up to a large wooden door, cursing and yanking at the handle that refused to open. The wolf pack attempted to get up the long circular stairs to follow, but the rusted metal gave way beneath the combined weight of the animals. They howled in frustration, then began looking for a way to follow their prey.

  Chung Lai pushed the spike into the soft wood around the door lock, working it back and forth in the rotten plank. She hit the door with her shoulder. It refused to budge.

  The lead wolf found a viable staircase at the far end of the raised patio, signaling his brethren with a howl. The group bounded up, the lead wolf a few strides in front. It launched itself at Chung Lai, lunging for her bare arm with its teeth. Instead, it got the metal spike through its eye socket, its triumphant cry becoming a gurgle of pain. The second wolf stopped, but the third launched itself at her arm, the long teeth biting deep. Chung Lai screamed, then jabbed at the attacking beast with her bloody spike. Again, the spike slid deep, the beast’s sharp human-sounding cry of pain eerie as it struggled to withdraw.

  Chung Lai hit the door hard again in desperation. It opened suddenly, her body falling through. Quickly she pushed it closed with her legs, the wolf’s teeth shut out as the slavering jaws snapped shut.

  Chung Lai breathed deep rapid breaths, shivering. She pushed up with difficulty and looked around. This was some sort of cellar. Old rusted chains were at regular spots on the wall. Something that looked like human bones lay in jumbles at the base, under the chains. But they were too small for adults. Were those the bones of children?

  Something hit the door. Howling echoed, one cry blending with another and another into a cacophony. Chung Lai ripped her gaze away, then hurried to climb the stairs to her left.

  Chung Lai shut the door behind her, then looked around. This was some sort of sun porch. Decayed remains of plants were everywhere, skeletal greenery with dried brown curled leaves and dead white moldering stalks. She hurried past it, then entered another room through an open doorway. This was a library, books reaching to the ceiling. She paused, scanning the shelves for a better weapon. But there was nothing.

  The sound of glass breaking from the bay window behind her spun Chung Lai to face the descending shadow.

  Delilah continued into the third ground floor room. This room was also empty. She hurried through the open doorway to the next one. There! Finally! This looked to be a carpenter’s workplace, with woodworking tools of all kinds and racks full of various woods, all gleaming. Piles of fresh wood swirls and dust lay in places, under vices. The air smelled of fresh shavings. She touched her finger to the nearest worktable. There was no dust.

  There was a creak behind her. Delilah turned, fear rising in her heart as she beheld a white faced man in an old suit opening a cabinet, his eye glinting an odd grey white, as if he were blind. But the moment she moved, his head turned, tracking her.

  “A guest,” he said in a pleased tone, his speech formal. “Come to admire my work?”

  Delilah’s mouth worked but nothing came out. She backed against the table, spilling some of the tools. In desperation, she grabbed a chisel. “Stay away!”

  “You can’t go,” the man chanted, advancing in jerking steps. “No one goes. Never. You’ll never go home. Never, never, never…”

  “Stop it!” Delilah said, screaming as she stabbed at the figure. Her strike carried her forward, and she stumbled.

  Nothing was there.

  Delilah clutched the chisel, looking side to side, panting. Then the floor at her feet began to buckle upward, pushing up the plates of paving stone. Something was coming up from beneath, bending and breaking the squares.

  With a scream, Delilah dropped the chisel and bolted. Hurrying, she ran through several empty rooms until she found a flight of stairs, then went up it, darting into the first room on the left and slamming the door. Shutting her eyes tight, she said a prayer, then opened them.

  She was in some sort of very old kitchen, the walls rough wood, the floor bare earth. People surrounded her, their dress colonial period, their smiles friendly as they exchanged presents.

  Was it Christmas? No, it was a wedding…there were the bride and groom.

  Suddenly, a bell was gonging. Everyone froze, then erupted in a flurry of activity, fear on their faces. The men reached for old-fashioned rifles and bayonets, the women gathering the children and going to a small trapdoor in the floor. The bride clung to her husband, until they dragged her away, crying, shutting the door as her husband barred it from outside.

  Shadows of native men in war paint swarmed into the room suddenly, the men fighting them. The scene became a bloodbath, opponents murdering one another, the dirt soaking up the blood. And when the last colonial man was on his knees, his throat slit, the few remaining shadows marched to the trapdoor and broke it down. A woman’s screams rent the air, then dozens more joined her.

  Horrified, Delilah ran to the nearest window, pushing up the sash. Scrabbling with the metal mesh storm window, she pried that up, preparing to climb through.

  White clammy hands closed over her wrists from the darkness outside, stopping her. Terrified, Delilah threw them off, then turned and ran out of the room in the opposite direction, deeper into the house.

  Chung Lai braced herself for a wolf, spike at the ready. But the shadow was instead a ghostly woman, her expression pleading.

  “Help us,” she begged with tears in her eyes. “Help us, please.”

  Chung Lai, stepped back, uneasy. The woman advanced, bloody hands knotting in a stained handkerchief.

  “Please, we are trapped. Please, we need help!”

  Chung Lai hesitated. In that split second, the woman grabbed her, her transparent fingers digging deep. Images bombarded Chung Lai, memories of terrible events that were not her own.

  The flames of a bonfire. The men were clearing land to build a grand house, land we’d claimed a
s our own. But bones were uncovered on the land, and evil things happened almost at once. The house was haunted, the workers said. There was whistling in the night, in the darkness. Cries for help, waking us from sleep, drawing us to the basement. Two women fell to their deaths that way, one of them being my mother, Gladys, when the stairs suddenly gave way. I myself narrowly escape death, when I am sent to bring up firewood and almost step out into nothingness.

  I plead with my family to leave, to give up this land in the wilderness. We cannot tame it to our will. I feel we will all die if we stay here! But Grandmother will not let us sell and leave. She says it is our house, our land that many of her family died for it. She says our blood is in the earth, that it stains the bedrock, that’s why it’s dark red.

  I know we are cursed if we stay here, that more evil will come. But no one will listen!

  I leave the house the only way open to me, escaping into a loveless marriage. But nightmares of the house haunt me, of shadows with no name that come with every nightfall.

  A telegram comes; Grandmother is dead, everyone with her dead in an Indian massacre. The house is burned to the ground. I do not want to return, but my husband says we must claim the land, that we will rebuild. The Indians are dead, he says, killed by troops. He says the danger is over.

  A new house rises on the hill. Workmen discover bones in the wreckage. They remove them to the cemetery, building us a grand house of new pine and hardwood. But a ghost walks there each night, as the floorboards creak. His features are familiar, his eyes pleading.

  Only I can see him, standing at the foot of my bed near midnight. He speaks to me, his only living relative. He tells me of horrors, of massacre and burning and screams and dying. He tells me of inescapable evil.

  He is Grandmother’s son, her illegitimate child. He died here, in the basement, where he was locked up from the moment the house was built, in a secret room. He desired his half-sister, stalked her. Grandmother confined him, but too late….I am his child! A cursed being of incest, doomed to die here, like all the others!