The House in the Hills

by The House in the Hills (retail) (epub)

  He explained, “Connected to each other. No one minds.”

  “Oh,” Harmony said and fully understood what he meant now. Of course, they liked to party out here. It would keep them connected to each other. No one would mind this. She paused and wondered what she was thinking. What was going on in her mind? She felt light-headed for a moment then, in an effort to restore her mind, she glanced to the side and watched a really drunk guy fall into a flowering rhododendron bush and crush it. She felt sad for a moment as that was one of her favorite plants in the backyard. But she didn’t feel much like reprimanding him over it.

  The handsome man laughed a little at the drunk man and said, “What a jackass.”

  Harmony stared back at him and asked, “Who are these people?”

  He took a pause before he explained, “They don’t bother anyone. No one goes into the guesthouse. They only stay here. To party.”

  Harmony stared at him as if trying to decipher his words, then stared around at the people again.

  He pointed at her. “You should have more fun. You should drink more. They have some pot if that would loosen you up.”

  Harmony shook her head. She never liked pot. It made her paranoid.

  He continued, “Or maybe you’d like something harder. They have whatever you’d like. Try something, Harmony, and you might see how the other half lives. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? It’s fine to be aspirational.”

  Harmony stared at him and understood everything now. That’s why she and Marc had bought this house, to see how the other half lived, to try and be the other half for once in their lives. They were aspirational. As Harmony stared around at all the beautiful people, she realized these people were the other half. That’s what was so different about them. They were the ones who mattered, the ones who either made a lot of money or came from a lot of money. They were the ones living the life of Riley. Wow. It all made sense now. Perfect sense.

  Harmony started to say something to the handsome man but decided against it and stared at a very attractive man and woman who were making out hot and heavy on a lounge chair. They were going at it like they were off to themselves and alone. But they weren’t alone and no one even blinked an eye at them. But it was okay. No one cared and no one leered and no one gave one fuck what they were doing, mainly because they’d all probably done it before themselves.

  Then, all of a sudden, Harmony felt eyes on her. She jerked a little and turned to the side and saw Darcy, who stared back at her at the exact moment Harmony found her in the crowd. It was like she had been waiting for Harmony to find her.

  Harmony studied her for a moment, noticing she was dressed in the outfit she’d worn the day they met, and was about to say something when Darcy shook her head ever so slightly, then put a finger to her lips, as if to say, “Shhh…”

  Harmony squinted at her, wondering exactly what she was doing, then let it go. She turned to stare at some other people, noticing they were passing a joint around. All in all, it did seem like a great party. No one skipped a beat and the party did not stop. Until, of course, it did…

  All of a sudden, a woman near the pool gave a loud retch and then she threw up blood. And not just a little blood, but a lot of blood. It was almost as she was spewing it. Then, another woman did the exact same thing, then a man. Soon, everyone was spitting up and throwing up blood, as if they’d all been poisoned. Some turned on their heels and fell into the pool and others tried to scramble out of the pool as they, too, retched. The scene was horrific as the beautiful and stylish people begin to fight for their lives.

  To say the least, Harmony was shocked at what she was seeing, but somehow she stayed detached, as if she was watching the scene on a big screen in a crowded movie theater.

  Out of nowhere, the handsome man started to laugh at the scene and he couldn’t stop. Harmony, who’d forgotten he was even there, turned to stare at him in disbelief. Then, all a sudden, she felt an overwhelming urge to flee. She started to leave but her feet wouldn’t move. She twisted and turned but couldn’t seem to budge one inch from where she was standing. She struggled for a good few minutes as the people started falling, dying right in front of her eyes. She got very frustrated then she slapped her forehead hard.

  The man was still chuckling when he said, as if to himself, “They never learn. They just never learn.”

  Harmony’s eyes widened and then she screamed a loud, ear-shattering scream. Then, all of a sudden, she passed out and fell to the patio.

  The music just then cut off.

  * * * * *

  Harmony came awake with a gasp. She sat up in bed and noticed that she was drenched in sweat. She tore off the sweatshirt and threw it to the side. Her head was spinning with the intensity of what just happened. She looked around, sure that there were dead bodies in her bedroom, but didn’t see anyone. Everything was quiet and serene, as it was always was.

  She heard a soft snore, then looked over and stared at Marc, who was sleeping peacefully. She had a sudden urge to shake him awake and tell him what just happened, but then she knew he wouldn’t believe her.

  And what had just happened? All those people, all those people now dead in her backyard. She jumped up out of bed and hurried out of the bedroom and made her way to the backyard, hoping and praying some of them were still alive and that she could save them.

  But when she got outside… When she got outside, there was no one there. Not one person, not one dead body, not even one slight disruption to the entire landscape of the backyard. And it was morning. The sun was bright and everything was perfect.

  “How could that be?” Harmony muttered to herself and rushed around the backyard. Nothing was amiss. Nothing! She stopped beside the pool and stood looking around. There was no sign that there had been a party or that anyone was ever there. She glanced over at the place the drunk guy had crushed the rhododendron, but then realized that it hadn’t even been a rhododendron. In fact, there wasn’t even a bush there. Why did she think there was a plant there in the first place? That was weird.

  However, everything was still intact. It was almost as if nothing had happened. A nice, soft warm breeze flowed in the air and the pool filter kicked on and started humming.

  How could this be? She knew she’d been there, at the party. She knew she’d watched all of those people dying. She knew she’d talked to that man, too. Where was he? Where was everyone? What the hell was going on? Surely, it wasn’t just a dream. But it was morning now and the party had happened at night. Had she… How had she gotten back into bed? And then slept for hours and hours until the morning? How…? How could that have happened?

  “What is it?” Marc asked, coming up behind her.

  Harmony started at his words. She hadn’t noticed him come out onto the patio. She glanced over at him and shook her head. Then she looked around the backyard again. Nothing was out of sorts.

  “What is it?” Marc asked again, touching her elbow. “Harmony?”

  “Nothing,” she said, beginning to feel panicked. Something had happened, but, apparently, it was just a dream. That was the only logical explanation. It was a dream, a weird fucked up dream. But how could that be? It had been so real. She could have reached out and touched those people, like the handsome man. He’d given her a drink! She’d taken a sip of it, even. She remembered the harsh tones of the whiskey, how it had burned her throat. What the hell was going on?

  She searched the backyard with her eyes for a clue of some sort but came up with nothing. Nothing was amiss. Then her eyes settled on the guesthouse. The guesthouse! Darcy! Darcy had been in her dream! Without thinking, Harmony quickly walked around the pool and to the guesthouse. Marc watched her in dismay as she began to pound on the door.

  “What are you doing?” he called.

  Harmony glanced at him and hissed, “Shut up!” before resuming pounding on the door. She yelled, “Darcy, open the door! Darcy! Come on!”

  “I don’t think she’s home!” M
arc, who seemed to be getting a little frustrated at Harmony’s actions, said. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Harmony stared at him, then pounded on the door again. “Darcy, come on! Open up!”

  “I said I don’t think she’s home!” Marc half-yelled at her.

  Harmony stopped pounding and nodded. “You’re right. She’s gone.” She nodded to herself, then said, “I’m going in.”

  “You can’t just do that!” Marc yelled at her.

  “It’s my property! I can do what I want.” She shook her head at him then tried the doorknob and it turned and opened.

  Neither Harmony nor Marc had been inside the guesthouse before. A day or so after Darcy had made her appearance neither of them had attempted to go into the guesthouse, mainly out of common courtesy. And then they’d just sort of forgotten about it and had intended to get a copy made of her key, but the subject had never come up again.

  But now Harmony didn’t care about common courtesy. She didn’t give one shit. She was going in and she was going to see if there was something up with Darcy. The dream she’d had last night convinced her that something was going on with the house. And something inside of her convinced herself that it might all start in the guesthouse. Maybe the dream hadn’t been a dream. Maybe it had been real. If so, Darcy had been there and she would be the only person who would know.

  Harmony entered the guesthouse and looked around. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath as she took it all in, forgetting her anxiety—and why she was actually in the guesthouse—for a moment. The small space was really, really nice and well planned out. It was like a miniature version of the big house. Harmony walked towards the back and found the bedroom, which fit a dresser, a queen-sized bed with a funky, very Anthropologie looking comforter, and one nightstand fairly easily. A small closet, which was jam-packed full of clothes, was to the right of the dresser and the en suite bathroom was to the left of the bed. She opened the door and walked in, nodding with approval at the upgrades of the completely remodeled bathroom. It had a toilet, of course, a stand-up shower, tiled with white subway tile, and a modern, floating white vanity. It was done very, very well and to the standards of the big house.

  “Nice,” Harmony said and nodded, noticing all the beauty products strewn on top of the vanity. She opened one of the drawers and saw towels, some shampoos and spare toothbrushes and a couple tubes of toothpaste. She closed the drawer and walked back out and into the small kitchenette, which had been completely remodeled. It basically took up the back wall of the house and was just open shelves made of rustic wood up top and one long row of white lower cabinets on the bottom with a small sink, a small dishwasher, a small, four-burner stove and a small, retro looking refrigerator at the very end. Oh, it was a Smeg. Very cool. The counters were a soapstone and really nice.

  Harmony surveyed the shelves and noticed the typical food supplies most people have—bread, peanut butter, or in this case, almond butter, some spices that looked like they’d never even been opened, a box of snack cakes that were out of date, and a bag of coffee beans, unopened. She looked around for a coffee maker but didn’t see one. The other shelves just had some plates and bowls and the lower cabinets had a few pots and pans.

  She went to the robin’s egg blue colored refrigerator, admiring it, thinking she would love to have a larger one of these, and opened the door. Some milk—expired—some moldy cheese, a couple bottles of wine, neither opened. And a stick of real butter.

  “Okay,” she muttered and shut the door and turned to the living room. There was a small, modern couch, a cool funky looking leather chair that looked like a thrift shop find—if one were ever lucky enough to find such a thing in a thrift shop these days—and a small flat-screen TV sitting atop a mid-century credenza. A chevron rug covered a good portion of the living area and sat on top of the perfectly-worn wood floors.

  Harmony wondered briefly to herself why the people who had built the house hadn’t brought the terrazzo into the guesthouse instead of the wood, then settled on the idea that it might have added too much to the cost or something. Or, they could have been ruined over time and it was easier to switch them out with wood. But the floor looked old, like it was original. She sighed and shook the thought out of her head and looked around the living area, searching for something that might give her a clue as to what was going on with that dream, which, she was sure, was more than a dream. It had been so real, like she was there witnessing all that had happened. This wasn’t normal and she had to get to the bottom of what was going on. She had to. She had no choice.

  Just then, Marc entered. “What the hell are you doing? I keep waiting on you to come out and you never do.”

  Harmony glanced at him, then turned her attention back to the room. There had to be something here. There had to be!

  “Harmony?” Marc said, looking concerned. “What are you doing?”

  She sighed and said, “There’s something going on with her. I have to find out what.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, getting agitated.

  She ignored him and started looking around the living area but all she found was typical stuff a young actress would have—headshots, celebrity magazines, an ipad. She went to the credenza and opened the drawers but all she found was a few old DVDs, the remote to the DVD player and a couple of old hardback books without the dust jackets. She turned the spine up and read the title of one: The Master and the Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. Oh! She knew this book but had never read it. However, it seemed to her, it was an odd choice for someone like Darcy to read.

  She tossed the book back in and shut the drawer and opened the other. Nothing in it at all and nothing in the others, either. Great. Now she knew about as much as she had before she entered the guesthouse.

  “Well, did you find anything?” Marc asked, barely containing his eye roll. “Is she an undercover FBI agent or a member of some gang? Maybe she’s cooking meth in here. Who knows?”

  “Shut up,” Harmony said, refusing to let him get to her.

  Marc was getting even more agitated. “You are acting crazy.”

  She tuned to him and said, “I’m going crazy.” And she really was beginning to believe she was. What was going on with her? It frightened her so much but at the same time, she just wished she knew so, maybe, she could get some help and move on from it. She hated feeling this out of control. She wasn’t like this. She was usually so calm, cool and collected. It was the house, though. The house was doing this to her. It had to be the house.

  “What are you looking for?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer and just stood there looking around. There was nothing unusual at all going on here. But then, she remembered something the handsome man had said. “He said they never go in the guesthouse,” she muttered more to herself than Marc.

  “Who? Who’s he? Her boyfriend?”

  She became miffed at Marc and turned to him, her eyes flashing, “She doesn’t have a boyfriend! It was… I had this dream and…”

  Marc nodded for her to continue. She stared at him and then the thought came to her that he might just be keeping something from her. Was that possible? Was there more to the story of this house than he ever let on? Was he holding back some pertinent information? Could he be? She started to say something to him but then something told her to act as if she didn’t know anything, so she said, “Nothing.”

  Marc sighed with exasperation and said, “Really, babe, you need a break. Why don’t I get ready and we go to the beach? Take a day off from everything?”

  That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. They loved going to the beach and if he would take some time getting ready, as he usually did, she could do some more digging around before they left. She nodded. “Sure. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

  Marc turned to leave, then turned back to her. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” she told him.

  He gave her a loo
k, then shook his head slightly and left the guesthouse. As soon as he was gone, Harmony picked up the ipad and swiped the screen, then sat down on the couch and started to do a search. She paused and stared into space, thinking, This isn’t a good idea. So, she tossed ipad to the side, got up from the couch and left quickly, shutting the door securely on her way out.

  * * * * *

  About an hour later, Harmony was sitting at the dining table in front of her laptop. She was stunned. While her dream might not have been real, what had happened around the pool had been. It was all over the internet. There were hundreds of stories about it, conspiracy and otherwise. It had been, as they say, a big deal. People had died. They’d been murdered. Just outside the glass doors of her house. There had been television shows about it, investigative reports. Lots and lots of news stories were born because of the massacre. That’s what they all called it—“The Massacre in the Hills.”

  The Massacre in the Hills. Harmony let out a labored breath. She couldn’t think straight. She was shocked, to say the least, but then again, she really couldn’t find the words to describe how she was feeling. She didn’t speak when Marc walked in, dressed in a pair of well worn cut-off khakis, a comfortable old t-shirt and a pair of flip-flops. He’s holding a few beach towels. He was certainly ready to go to the beach.

  Harmony stared at him, unblinking. He stared back.

  He groaned, “What is it now?”

  Harmony turned her laptop around towards Marc. He gave her a curious look, set the towels down on the table and bent down to stare at the screen. He drew in a sharp breath then exhaled quickly.

  Harmony stared at him, wondering what he was going to say. What could he say? What do you say to something like that? This was not going to be one of those cute sitcom couple moments where there has been some kind of silly misunderstanding and each one tries to defend their actions while the other points the finger, then they reconcile, kiss and make up. Oh. No. This was not a Lucy and Desi moment at all. In fact, Harmony didn’t see many Lucy and Desi moments in their future at all.