Forsaken Repose: The Restless Dead

by Barger, Theron C.

  Dedication

  To my wife. It's all worthwhile because of you.

  All works contained within are copyright Theron C. Barger. Reproduction in any form is forbidden except excerpts to be used for the purposes of reviews.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1- Doing It For The Family

  2- The Bloom Is Off The Rose

  3- The Status Quo

  Doing It For The Family

  Jenna Stone drops the cardboard box onto the living room floor, releasing a clearly audible sigh of relief as the weight falls from her arms. Placing her left hand on her lower back, leaning back a bit and wiping her sweat-soaked brow with the back of her right hand, Jenna inhales and exhales deeply a few times.

  “Are we done yet?” the small voice to Jenna's left inquires of her.

  Turning and stretching both arms high over her head, Jenna smiles down at her eight year old son, Bryce. The little boy looks up at his mother, his deep, soulful, brown eyes exposing his weariness. Jenna reaches out a hand and tousles her son's dark brown hair.

  “Yeah, we are.” Jenna shrugs and casts a sweeping glance around the room. “Of course, we still have to put everything away.”

  “Aw,” Bryce complains, squeezing shut his eyes and clenching his little fists. “That will take all night.”

  A soft laugh escapes Jenna. “We're not going to unpack everything tonight. I still have to do a lot of cleaning and painting. Besides,” Jenna adds, kneeling in front of her son, “it's not like we have a lot of stuff to unpack.” Playfully, Jenna lifts her hand and swipes her index finger down the bridge of her son's nose, causing him to step backward, shake his head and laugh loudly.

  Standing, Jenna points at the doorway leading to the hallway. “Head upstairs and take a bath. You're going to your new school tomorrow and I want you to be clean and well-rested.”

  A sour look crosses Bryce's face and, for a moment, it appears as if he is going to resist. However, being nearly exhausted, Bryce has not the will to fight. “Okay, mom,” he says, turning and walking through the doorway and turning left as he heads for the stairs.

  “We might not have a lot of stuff,” Jenna mutters, looking around the living room, “but what we have sure is heavy enough.”

  Slowly, Jenna makes her way out of the living room and into the hallway. She pulls open the front door and leans against the door frame. The sun has completed half its descent into the horizon, leaving the sky painted a dull orange and the white clouds shaded dark. A cool breeze wafts past her and into the house. The house carries a heavy, musty odor that has faded some, due in large part to her opening every window in the place the minute she and Bryce arrived.

  Every muscle in Jenna's body screams for rest, but Jenna wants to make certain she's locked the moving truck she rented before she settles in and makes a quick dinner for herself and her son. The day's work is taking its toll, and several minutes pass before Jenna can find the strength to proceed across the porch and toward the rental truck.

  Lifting the handle of the passenger's door, Jenna finds it to be locked. The same is true for the driver's door. Looking left and right, the woods surrounding her newly-acquired house are dark and, strangely, silent. Growing up, Jenna lived fairly close to a large patch of woods and the commotion of birds and crickets was nearly-constant in the early spring. The woods here, however, issue no sound at all, which sends a cold chill down Jenna's spine.

  Indeed, everything about the house – including how she came to possess ownership of it in the first place – sets her nerves on edge. Walking back toward the large, two story Victorian, Jenna recalls the lawyer who showed up at her apartment door one day, informing her that she was the heir to an old property. Not only did it strike Jenna peculiar that she was the inheritor of an old house, but that she hadn't known anything about being related to the original owners for the first thirty-one years of her life. Jenna was raised solely by her mother, who never spoke about – let alone introduced Jenna to – her family. Jenna simply couldn't understand how she could be the inheritor to a property from a family of people that she never knew. The first she ever heard of all this was when the lawyer, Ian Ghering, arrived to tell her. What's more, the lawyer's sense of timing was impeccable, considering Jenna's recent separation from her ex-boyfriend, Derick. Her ex-boyfriend's reluctance to show his face and chip in financially to help out is made even worse by the fact that her son is, in fact, his son. Jenna is Bryce's mother through adoption, not birth. Jenna assumed that her willingness to adopt her boyfriend's son would be enough to have him stick around, but clearly it wasn't. Despite tolerating her ex-boyfriend's frequent business trips that took him away from home, sometimes for weeks at a stretch, Jenna stuck by his side and assumed he'd always do the same for her.

  When she and Derick were together, Jenna believed that she, Derick and Bryce were what she had always hoped for – a family like the kind she'd read about in books and seen on TV. She thought they'd be together forever. She found she was mistaken one Dear John letter later when Derick left, leaving Jenna to care for Bryce on her own. Still, Jenna never took out on Bryce her anger at having been abandoned. As far as Jenna is concerned, the second she adopted Bryce, he became just as much her son as her deadbeat ex-boyfriend's.

  The whole matter with the house struck Jenna as suspicious but, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jenna gladly accepted the house. The lawyer explained to Jenna that a home inspection revealed the house only needs cosmetic repairs and the property taxes are incredibly low. To Jenna, who felt she could bear the burden of an hour-long drive to work as long as she had a fantastic house that she could easily afford, the whole thing feels like a steal.

  As for Bryce, he has always been a reserved kid. He spent a lot of his time inside his bedroom when Jenna and Derick were together, and he never seemed to want to bother too much with other children. Jenna hopes this house represents a fresh start for both herself and Bryce.

  Almost back on the front porch, Jenna casts an idle glance at an upstairs window. Silhouetted behind the thin curtain lurks a tall, gaunt figure. So unexpected is the sight, that Jenna finishes her step onto the porch before her mind screams at her that something isn't right. From her current position, the awning over the porch blocks her view of the window. Quickly, she takes a step back and stares up at the window, only to find no one standing there.

  Unsatisfied the figure was merely a figment of her imagination, Jenna races across the porch, into the house and up the stairs. Standing at the top of the stairs and looking left and right along the dimly lit hallway, Jenna finds all the doors to be closed. Flipping on the light switch and waiting for the two wall lamps to flicker to life, Jenna takes stock of her situation.

  To Jenna's left (and about halfway down the hallway) stand two doors, one directly across the hall from the other. To Jenna's right, there stands three doors. Much like the doors to her left, two of the doors are located about halfway down the hallway and face one another on opposite walls. The third door is closer to where Jenna stands, on the wall opposite her. The sounds of her son splashing in the tub and making airplane noises are clearly audible through the door.

  The figure Jenna saw was standing in her bedroom window, so Jenna tuns left and begins taking slow, hesitant steps toward her bedroom door. Her eyes remain locked on her bedroom door where she expects, at any moment, for the door to be thrown open and the tall figure to rush out at her.

  Reaching her bedroom door, Jenna slowly extends a trembling hand for the doorknob. Her fingers wrap lightly around the cold metal, turning it slowly. Pushing open the door and then taking a step back, Jenna's eyes quickly scan her bedroom. Several cardboard boxes and t
he yet-to-be-assembled frame of her bed are the only occupants.

  Inching cautiously toward the closet door on her left, Jenna once again twists the knob and leaps away as she pushes open the door. The closet is empty, save for a clothing rod running horizontally beneath a bare shelf.

  With only the door to the master bedroom remaining, Jenna circles wide around the boxes and stops just in front of the door. Glancing over her shoulder, making certain her bedroom door is still open in the event she needs to make a hasty retreat, Jenna reaches for the doorknob, turns it and pushes open the door. The bathroom is empty, and a quick peek inside the claw foot tub shows it to be vacant as well.

  Sighing with relief and chalking up the vision of the tall, gaunt figure to exhaustion, Jenna turns to exit the bathroom, only to find a shape moving swiftly toward her. Squeezing shut her eyes, all while screaming and flailing her arms wildly, Jenna stumbles away until her back strikes a wall.

  “Mom?”

  Jenna's eyes snap open to find Bryce, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist, staring up at her as if she's lost her mind.

  “Are you okay?” Bryce asks, tilting his head to the side as he scrutinizes his mother.

  Jenna throws a hand over her heart, leans her head back against the tile wall and lets loose a relieved laugh. Lifting her head and looking directly at her son, she replies, “Yes, I'm fine. Just a little tired, is all.” Jenna arches an eyebrow at Bryce. “Why are you walking around wearing nothing but a towel?”

  “I don't know where my clothes are,” Bryce answers, his wide eyes and tense posture indicating he's not completely convinced all is well. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  Pushing off the wall, Jenna gently wraps her arms around her son and hugs him. “I'm fine. I'm sorry if I scared you.” Releasing Bryce, Jenna smiles down at him. “Let's go find your clothes, okay?”

  The corners of Bryce's mouth tug upward a bit and he reaches up to take his mother's hand. “Okay. Do you know which box they're in?”

  “Absolutely,” Jenna replies confidently, taking her son's hand and walking him toward the bedroom door. “All your clothes are in boxes in your room, and the box sitting on the wooden chair has the clothes you'll need for bed. We'll also find you something to wear to school tomorrow.”

  Jenna leads her son out of her bedroom and across the hall to his own room. Very little of the setting sun's rays pierce the thin curtains covering the pair of windows in her son's bedroom, so Jenna flips on the light and takes a step into the room, stopping suddenly when she hears a splash underneath her foot. Looking down, Jenna finds a puddle of water underneath her shoe. Her eyes follow the watery trail that leads from the bedroom door, to the sole chair in the room and that ends at a vent set into the floor near the window to her left.

  Squeezing tightly her son's hand, Jenna takes a step back, dragging Bryce backward with her. With as much calm as she can muster, Jenna asks Bryce, “Were you in here a minute ago?”

  Bryce looks up at his mother with concern etched on his face. “No. Why?”

  “Your floor is wet,” Jenna observes, throwing a quick glance over Bryce's head at the hallway leading to the bathroom. A watery path stretches from the bathroom to Bryce's door. Looking over her shoulder into her bedroom, the floor is bone dry. Not a single drop of water lies on the floor of her room.

  “Mom?” Bryce's voice wavers as he utters the question.

  In the next instant, Jenna pulls Bryce into her bedroom and slams shut the door. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Jenna's mind races as she attempts to figure out her next move.

  “Mom?” Bryce's voice is more insistent now, demanding some form of reassurance.

  “It's okay,” Jenna says, although even she can hear the near-panic in her voice. Shaking her head once, she forces a smile and looks down at her son. “Everything is fine. I think we might just have a plumbing problem.”

  Bryce's brow furrows a bit. In a tone that makes clear he's not entirely convinced, Bryce replies, “Oh, okay.”

  It suddenly occurs to Jenna that her son is still wearing nothing but a towel. Determined to get her son's clothes, but not at all eager to enter her son's room – much less with her son in tow – Jenna considers her options. She could leave her son in her room while she rushes into his and snatches out some clothes for him to wear, but that would leave him alone briefly. On the other hand, she could take him with her, but if whatever made that watery trail is still inside his room, she'd be leading her son into danger.

  Squaring her shoulders and steeling her resolve, Jenna looks down at her son and announces, “We're going to your room. I'm going to lift the box off the chair and then we're coming right back in here. I want you to move quickly. Do you understand?”

  When Bryce nods in agreement, Jenna takes hold of the door knob and throws open the door. She only manages a single step into the hallway before stopping suddenly as she realizes the floor is completely dry.

  “What the...?” Jenna trails off as she turns her head side to side, her mind reeling.

  “Mom?”

  “We're going,” Jenna states firmly. Taking a few quick steps, Jenna enters her son's room. Snatching the cardboard box from the wooden chair with her free hand, Jenna then swiftly backpedals, pulling her son along with her as she retreats to her bedroom.

  Slamming shut her bedroom door, Jenna drops the cardboard box onto the floor. Pointing at the box, Jenna instructs her son, “Get dressed. We're leaving here as soon as you're dressed.”

  “Why?” Bryce asks, looking up at his mother in confusion.

  “Something isn't right about this house,” Jenna replies, casting quick glances about her bedroom. I'm not sure what's wrong with it, and we're not staying to find out.”

  Flipping open the box, Bryce pulls forth a long-sleeved shirt, a pair of jeans...and the shoes he was wearing just before he went to take a bath.

  “How did these get in there?” Bryce asks, holding up the shoes.

  Shaking her head, Jenna tells him, “I don't know and I don't care. Get dressed so we can get out of here.”

  Lifting his shirt from the box, Bryce looks up at his mother. “Where are we going?”

  “Anyplace but here,” Jenna replies, helping her son pull his shirt on over his head.

  “Do we have to go?” Bryce asks, pulling his jeans from the box and sliding in one leg.

  “Yes.”

  Bryce hoists his jeans, buttons them and then sits on the floor. Lifting his shoes from the cardboard box, he looks up at his mother. “We just got here.”

  “And now we're leaving,” Jenna snaps. Looking down at her son, whose lower lip quivers and whose eyes have gone wide, Jenna says softly, “It's for the best. You'll just have to trust me.”

  Bryce slips on both shoes, then stands and takes his mother's hand. Jenna leads Bryce out of her bedroom and down the hallway. A faint shuffling sound can be heard coming from behind the walls. Stopping at the top of the stairs, Jenna peeks around the corner before leading Bryce swiftly down the wooden staircase. The shuffling sound in the walls follows them down the stairs and increases in intensity, causing the walls to rattle. Reaching the front door and throwing it open, Jenna prepares to race for the moving van.

  Crows.

  The porch, the railing of the porch, the yard and the roof of her moving van all have crows perched and staring directly at Jenna. Jenna slides to her left, and the eyes of the crows follow her. Jenna slides to her right and, once again, the eyes of the crows follow her. Slowly, Jenna lifts her foot in preparation to take a step onto the porch. Suddenly, a mass of black-feathered bodies rush toward her, squawking and flapping their wings as they dash in her direction.

  Slamming shut the door and throwing her back against it, Jenna gulps in deep breaths as she tries to calm her nerves. The thumping of avian bodies against the opposite side of the door does nothing to help her in that regard, so Jenna fumbles in her pocket and pulls forth her phone. After quickly dialing 911, Jenna's shaking hand holds
the phone to her ear.

  “911, what's your emergency?” the operator asks.

  “I'm trapped inside my house and I need help,” Jenna exhales breathlessly. “I live at 1000 Deliverance Way.”

  “Do you know who's outside your house?” the operator asks politely.

  “Just send the cops over, goddammit!” Jenna snarls, before disconnecting the call and shoving her phone back into her pocket. Jenna can still feel the door vibrate as crows slam against it.

  “Mom?” Bryce asks, backing away from the door with a terrified expression on his face.

  “We're going to be okay,” Jenna assures her son, forcing a smile.

  The pounding on the opposite side of the door comes to a stop and Jenna pushes off the door and turns around slowly. Facing the door but interposing herself between the door and her son, Jenna does her best to maintain a calm exterior.

  Several tense minutes pass before the sound of rapidly approaching sirens causes Jenna to rush into her living room, Bryce in tow, so she can stare out the window. The crows fly off at once, a mass of black bodies racing not up into the sky, but off into the woods surrounding the house.

  Dashing to her front door and flinging it open, Jenna drags Bryce out of the house, across the porch and into the front yard.

  The police cruiser rolls slowly along the long, dirt driveway and stops in front of the house, just behind Jenna's moving van. A pair of uniformed officers, neither of them over the age of forty, step out of the car. Jenna rushes up to the officer who climbs out of the driver's side door, as he appears slightly older than the other cop, leading Jenna to assume he's the senior officer.

  “I need to leave here...right now!” Jenna demands.

  “Calm down,” the officer tells her, looking up at the house. “Tell us what's going on.”

  “There is something inside that house and me and my son are leaving right now,” Jenna explains, her tone as strained as her patience.