“Sorry,” she said. “Miss Schneiderfelt kind of reminded us all of a pig. I guess I thought of a pig at the last second.”
“It’s okay,” I told her. “This is all trial and error. Close your eyes again.”
She shut her eyes and put her hands by her sides. “Okay.”
“Now focus on Miss Schneiderfelt’s nose. Don’t think about a pig or any other animal.”
She chuckled. “Okay.”
Seconds later, an older, larger nose appeared on her face in place of her regular one. She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. She burst into laughter at the sight of her third-grade-teacher’s schnoz contrasted with her normal features. It was quite a funny sight. As much as I attempted to maintain a professional demeanor, I couldn’t help but snicker.
“Hey!” she said, still giggling. “It’s okay for me to laugh, but not you!”
“Sorry,” I said, recomposing myself. “I know it’s strange at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
She inspected her new nose closely in the mirror and flared her nostrils. “I don’t think I’d ever get used to this thing.”
“That’s only the beginning. You have her whole body to do.”
Piece by piece, Beth changed into her third-grade teacher, Miss Schneiderfelt. Each new part brought on a similar reaction, and, at times, she couldn’t contain herself. But, after becoming accustomed to the process, she eventually had no trouble transforming and appearing to be what I’d assume Miss Schneiderfelt would look like. She stood in front of the mirror and admired her work.
“Not bad,” she said in her own voice.
“Just one more thing,” I said. “How did Miss Schneiderfelt sound?”
“I don’t know. Like an old lady that listens to Pat Boone.”
“That’s not enough. You have to recall her voice in your mind. That way you can emulate it.”
“Okay. Let me think back.” She paused for a moment and a smile crept across her, I mean, Miss Schneiderfelt’s face. “There was this one time a few of us got in trouble for going to the library without permission. When we saw her coming down the hallway and ran away from her to the girls restroom. We hid in the stalls, but she came in after us. I can still remember what she said to us. ‘Girls! Get out of the stinkin’ bathroom and back to the classroom before I call your parents!’ We laughed so hard I almost peed my pants.”
“That’s good. Now think hard about how she spoke. If you want to convince them you’re not Beth and you don’t belong here, you have to believe it yourself.”
She cleared her throat and recited the line about the “stinkin bathroom.” At first, she said it in a high-pitched squeak, almost like a child on the cusp of puberty. She tried it again and a deep, man’s voice came out of her mouth. Finally, after trial and error, she was able to mimic Miss Schneiderfelt. Or at least what she told me she sounded like. How would I know? I never met the lady.
“Now what?” she asked with her new voice and a sense of pride.
“It’s my turn to change,” I replied. “I’ll be Mr. Clampstead, a fellow third-grade teacher.”
“So, what’s our story?”
“We were staying here for a teachers’ conference, but now it’s time for us to go home.”
I transformed into Mr. Clampstead. He was my third-grade teacher and a really funny guy. Sometimes he would turn around from the chalkboard wearing one of those silly glasses-with-an-attached-big-nose disguises, and all the kids would laugh. I wasn’t sure if I got his voice exactly right and I’m sure I made his head bigger than it really was, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Beth completely settled into the role of Miss Schneiderfelt so that she could forget herself long enough to break free from the confining world she’d created.
We left her room and walked side by side down the hallway. She made a concentrated effort to not look at me because, every time she did, she would start to chuckle. We came into the lobby area and approached the front desk. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait very long. The man behind the counter paused for a moment to give us a once-over. I sensed Beth getting nervous.
“We’re ready to check out,” I told him.
“And you are?” he asked.
“Mr. Clampstead and Miss Schneiderfelt,” I replied.
“I see.” He typed on his keyboard and looked intently at his screen. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as registered guests.”
I willed our aliases to appear at the bottom of the screen. “Look again,” I said authoritatively.
“Ah, yes,” he said, noticing my subtle addition. He punched a sequence of keys and then flashed a smile. “You’re all set. We hope you have a fantastic day.”
“So that’s it,” Beth said in Miss Schneiderfelt’s voice. “We can go?”
The man behind the counter laughed. “Of course! Unless you’d like to extend your stay?”
“No!” Beth and I said together as our alter-egos.
“That won’t be necessary,” I added. “Thank you for your time.”
We stepped away from the counter and made our way to the front door. We passed Grilax and Grulax as we walked outside. So far, so good. We made our way down the stairs of the front porch and onto the sidewalk. I went ahead of Beth, strolling along the winding path as if nothing was out of the ordinary. When we reached the static barrier, we both came to a grinding halt.
“I can’t do this,” she said sheepishly.
“Yes, you can,” I told her. “That wall is for Beth Martin. Not Miss Schneiderfelt. It’s time for you to go. You’re dying to get back to your twelve cats.”
She grinned and closed her eyes. A few seconds later, the fortification disappeared. On the road before us was a brand-new convertible with the top down. She opened her eyes and her face glowed when she saw it the way a child does on Christmas morning when they first see what’s under the tree. She looked at me and then went straight to the driver’s side and got in. She started the engine with an imaginary key and motioned to the passenger’s side.
“I take it you’re driving,” I joked.
“Yep,” she said in her own voice. “Now get in so we can get the hell out of here.”
I went around to the passenger’s side and got into the car. The radio was on. Beth turned up the volume and “Back in Black” by AC/DC blared from the speakers. As we slowly drove away from the “retirement” hotel and down the road, we transformed back into ourselves. I glanced at the rearview mirror. Standing at the end of the sidewalk and holding up her middle finger, Teenage Beth smiled at me as we escaped.
Chapter Eighteen
Our short journey came to an abrupt stop when an elephant blocked our path. The animal crossed the road and was followed by a parade of clowns, monkeys, a unicyclist, and various other performers. A man on stilts in a multicolored shirt and red and white striped pants waved at us. A bearded lady wearing a tattered dress curtseyed as she passed. Once they made it to the other side, one by one they vanished into thin air. We watched them disappear until the last acrobat in line dematerialized.
“What was that about?” asked Beth.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Did you ever go to the circus when you were a kid?”
“My parents took me once, but it didn’t have that much of an impression on me.”
“Sometimes things make a bigger impression than we realize. Shall we continue?”
Beth pressed the gas pedal and we drove onward. Open farmland stretched out as far as the eyes could see. A row of windmills in the distance rotated in unison. The sky darkened, and day turned into night. A house appeared up ahead. When Beth saw it, she hit the brake and the car came to a screeching halt. The place was a two-story affair with only one light on in an upstairs window.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’ve seen that house before.”
“Do you remember where?”
“No.”
“Why don’t we take a closer look?”
She shook her head. “I ca
n’t. Something’s not right.”
“What if I went inside and you waited in the car?”
“You’re not leaving me outside in the dark!”
“Well, what do you suggest?”
“I say we drive past it and forget we ever saw it.”
“Beth, you wanted to find out what happened to you. We’re not going to get very far if you ignore the signs.”
She pointed toward the house. “You think that’s a sign?”
“It could be, but we’ll never know if we don’t investigate.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Fine,” she said hesitantly.
She went a little further and pulled up by the side of the house. I got out and waited for her by the car. She finally stepped out and came around to meet me. We walked together toward the house side by side. The light in the upstairs window flickered. She grabbed my arm as if we were watching a horror film and the killer had jumped out of the screen. I coaxed her forward until we arrived at the front door.
It creaked as I opened it, yet another, albeit dated, scary-movie-type occurrence. We moved inside and, not surprisingly, the door slammed behind us. Beth gasped. The entire house was dark save the light emitting from an open door in the upstairs room and the moon shining faintly through the windows. Shrouded in blackness, the furniture in a nearby living room was covered in white sheets that gave off a dim glow and made the couch and sofa set appear like oddly shaped ghosts. A spiral staircase stood directly in front of us. I climbed the steps, and Beth stayed close behind.
We followed along the winding metal railing until we came to a hallway of open rooms on the second floor. Only the one at the end of the hall was illuminated, but its radiance gave the others enough light so we could peek inside them. Through the doorway closest to us, we saw a little girl’s room bathed in shadows. A small, white dresser sat in the corner near a set of bunkbeds. On the other side of the room, near the window, there was a dollhouse that looked eerily like the house we were in now.
Before either of us could remark on the resemblance, a tiny light came on in the second floor of the dollhouse. Beth looked at me with a mixture of fear and confusion. I shared a similar sentiment but felt it best to remain calm. I walked down the hall to another room. The inside was exactly like the last, complete with the children’s furniture and an uncanny miniature model of the house with the same upstairs light whose life-sized version emanated from a few feet away. I soon discovered that the last unlit room was an exact copy of the first two.
We made our way to the brightened room at the end of the hall and looked inside. It was empty except for a photograph lying in the middle of a beige-carpeted floor. A single uncovered lightbulb shone down on the picture, inviting us to look at it. Beth went ahead of me and picked it up off the ground. She examined it for a second and then handed it to me. It was the image of a smiling young girl, no more than six or seven years old, wearing a white dress with a red apple pattern on it. She was encircled by a hazy fog not unlike the barrier Beth had created around the “retirement” hotel.
“Do you recognize her?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “But I feel like I should. What is all of this?”
There was a sudden crash downstairs. Beth and I exchanged concerned looks. I placed the photograph in the exact spot we had found it, wondering if moving it had caused a disturbance.
Putting it back didn’t seem to make a difference because there was another loud bang below. We moved into the hallway. From where we stood, we saw that another light had come on in a first-floor room. We cautiously descended the staircase. When we reached the end, we heard another noise like the sound of glass breaking. We slowly turned the corner toward the newly irradiated room. Inside a full-sized kitchen, the girl from the picture took a plate off a stack on a table and smashed it onto the ground. She wore the same apple patterned dress from the photograph.
She saw us and grabbed another plate. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she said and then hurled it at Beth’s head.
Beth ducked, and the dish shattered against the wall. “Who are you?”
“Who am I?!” the girl shouted. “How can you not remember me?!”
She went for another plate, but I acted quickly and willed the rest of the stack to disappear. The girl didn’t blink an eye. She went over to a drawer near the sink and opened it.
She retrieved a knife and ran with it poised to attack toward Beth. Beth caught her wrist before she stabbed her. Beth wrestled the blade out of girl’s hand, but she kicked Beth in the shin, forcing her to release her grip.
“What is your deal?!” asked Beth, wincing in imaginary pain. “Will you stop trying to hurt me for a minute so I can figure out what the hell is going on?!”
The girl crossed her arms. “Fine!” she said. “But if you can’t tell me who I am, I’m going to stick your head in the oven!”
I crouched down at the girl’s level. “How do you know her?” I asked, motioning to Beth.
“She was supposed to take care of me,” replied the girl. “But she’s forgotten all about me.”
“Take care of you?” said Beth, still puzzled. “Was I your babysitter or something?”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” said the girl. She sat down in a chair at the table and frowned. “I need a friend,” she added and then disappeared.
Beth went to the chair the girl was in and sat down. “I’m so confused,” she said. “I have no idea who that was.”
I took a seat across from her. “It could be that you created her,” I suggested. “But she was so specific about you not remembering her, it makes me think there’s a memory lodged in your brain you can’t access completely.”
“But what?”
I shrugged. “Was she a childhood friend maybe?”
“I don’t think so. I would’ve recognized her.” She contemplated for a moment. “Wait a minute. Do you think it was Margaret?”
I shook my head. “I saw pictures of her as a child. Unless you altered her image in your mind somehow.”
She was about to share another thought when a rock flew through a window by the table. We both leapt from our chairs and took a step back. The rock landed on the ground near our feet next to shards of broken glass. We looked out the partially shattered pane to see where the rock had come from so abruptly. Standing in the front yard and in his underwear, Bobby swayed back and forth with a bottle of liquor in his hand.
“’Tis the time of mourning!” he shouted. “Only now shall you see the light of truth!”
Beth glanced at me, even more baffled than ever. “What the hell do I do with that?”
“Maybe we should go talk to him,” I suggested.
Beth threw her hands in the air. “Why not? It’s not like this whole experience could get any weirder.”
We stepped out of the kitchen and into the entryway. I opened the front door and moved out onto the front porch. Bobby danced around on the grass. Upon closer inspection, the bottle in his hand didn’t hold liquor. It appeared to be blood. All around him on the ground were snakes, only they didn’t have reptilian heads. They slithered around at his feet, each and every one bearing the face of Margaret.
Beth joined me on the porch and surveyed the scene. “Okay,” she said. “It just got weirder.”
“Dance the dance of nightly bliss!” exclaimed Bobby as he pounced about and nearly stepped on the cold-blooded creatures surrounding him. “Seal your fate with but one kiss!”
“You weren’t an English major at one point,” I said to Beth. “Were you?”
“No,” she said. “Why?”
“Just curious.” I approached Bobby carefully, making sure to keep a safe distance from him and his den of hybrids. “What do you mean by that exactly?” I asked him.
He stopped dancing and glared at me. “If thee doth not know, then the same fate shall fall upon thee!” he said.
He opened the bottle and poured the red liquid on top of his head. It flowed down the front a
nd sides of his face then ran down onto his shirt. The snakes bearing Margaret’s face hissed at Beth and me. They got louder and louder as Bobby finished dousing himself with the crimson fluid. He looked directly at Beth and threw the bottle by her feet. It shattered upon impact, causing Beth to jump out of the way of flying shards. Bobby began to laugh maniacally.
Beth covered her ears. “Go away!” she screamed.
Bloody Bobby and his supernatural serpents vanished from sight. Beth brushed past me and hastily made her way to the car. I hurried after and hopped in on the passenger’s side right as she climbed into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult blared from the speakers. She quickly turned off the radio and drove away from the house.
“So where are we headed?” I asked, ignoring the fact the vehicle was rapidly accelerating.
“I don’t care,” she said, focused on the road ahead. “Just as long as it’s not there.”
We continued onward and, for a while, saw nothing on either side of the road but the same extensive farmland we had before. But then a house appeared up ahead. As we got closer, I realized it was the exact house we had left only moments earlier. Beth zoomed past it. A few seconds later, it appeared again. And then again. She kept speeding by, but the house continued to pop up over and over. Eventually there were dozens of them receding into the distance, all with the same light on in the upstairs bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
Beth inevitably pulled the car off the road and parked on the shoulder. She gripped the wheel tightly, obviously overwhelmed by the tricks her mind was playing on her. I couldn’t imagine being trapped inside my own head with nowhere to go except where my subconscious led me. In her case, it was taking her for a spin on a repetitive loop that evidently had no end.
She opened the door, exited the car, then leaned against the hood. I got out and joined her.
“None of this makes any sense,” she said exasperatedly. “Why does the house keep popping up?”
When Beth Wakes Up Page 12