by Ray Garton
"Pull up a seat," she said. Reluctantly, he turned to one of the small school desks and dragged it closer to her desk, then plopped into the chair as if his knees had given out.
"Okay, Robby. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just – “
"Please, Robby," she interrupted. "You weren't ready for the test on Friday, you're not ready for the make-up today. That's not like you. I know it's not like you." She paused, then: "You came up in a conversation today. With another teacher. It seems you have quite a reputation, Robby. Nearly straight A's. You're an outstanding student. So. What's wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong. I just… forgot."
"You forgot."
He nodded without looking at her.
"I don't believe you, Robby. I admit I don't know you well, but I know you're not the kind of student to forget a test."
His jaw worked back and forth as he stared at the floor.
"Is it because you're sick?" she asked. "You don't look well at all, you know. But if you're ill, why don't you stay home?"
He said nothing, hoping she would steer clear of the subject of home.
"Is something wrong at home? Is that it? Because if – “
Robby's head jerked back and forth suddenly.
"Are you sure?"
He looked at her and spoke quietly and slowly through his teeth. "Nothing's wrong, okay?"
Miss Weiss leaned forward over her desk and softened her voice. "If there is something wrong, Robby, it's okay. I mean, everybody has – “
"Look, I'll take it tomorrow," he said, his voice wavering slightly. His eyes left her and darted around the room. "The test. I'll take it tomorrow. Okay?"
She watched him a moment before saying, "Listen to me, Robby. If there's anything I can do… or even if I can't do anything, maybe I can turn you to someone who – “
“Tomorrow? Please? I'll do it tomorrow, I promise."
"Okay, okay. Tomorrow, I'll give you the same test you just took. I want all the questions answered, okay? All of them. I want you to try, which you didn't seem to do today, because almost three quarters of the questions haven't been touched. If you don't… well, I think I'll have to talk with your parents."
Panic widened his eyes slightly and his neck stiffened as he turned to her to protest, but said nothing for a moment as his hands fluttered nervously with one another over his books on the small desktop.
"No," Robby whispered. "Don't do that."
"Why?"
His mouth felt dry suddenly. "I don't… want you to… well, they… wouldn't understand. That's all." Then, after a long pause: "Please?"
"Will you be ready tomorrow?"
He nodded quickly.
"Okay."
Robby stood so suddenly that the desk scraped over the floor and he staggered toward the door, clutching his books beneath one arm.
"Robby?"
He stopped but looked at his feet instead of turning toward her.
"Are you… taking any drugs? Or – “
"No," he whispered.
"You're not well. And I don't think it's just the flu. Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about?"
"No," he said on his way to the door. "Everything's fine."
He was out of the room before she could say anything else.
Robby trudged down the hall, out of the building, and tried not to drag his feet as he crossed the grass toward the next building, where his biology class was about to begin. He expected Dylan to be waiting for him in the hall, but remembered he'd stayed home sick that day. Robby had been tempted to stay home, too, but there was really nothing wrong with him, except for the weakness that made him nearly unable to get out of a chair or carry his books, and he hated to miss school unless he really had to.
Unfortunately, he'd completely forgotten about the test. Staying home had been a better idea than he'd thought.
He heard whispering footsteps in the damp grass behind him, but ignored them, until -
– a hand touched his arm and a familiar voice said, "Your sister is in danger."
When Robby turned to him, the stranger's mangled face seemed to wither, as if he were looking at someone more hideous than himself.
"My God," he whispered, squeezing Robby's arm.
"Get away from me," Robby said, pulling away. He knew he didn't sound very convincing, but he went on anyway. "I'll have you thrown off campus. You know, you can get into a lot of trouble for coming to the – “
"No, no, please, wait." The man simply stared at Robby for a moment, then whispered, "She's already started. She's not wasting any time."
"Who?" Robby snapped.
"You're sick. You look awful."
"So I've got the flu. It's none of your goddamned busin – “
"Is anyone else in your family sick?"
"Why? What're you – “
The man stabbed his cane into the wet grass, as his face twisted into an angry scowl, and muttered, "She's moving faster now. It won't be long, she's – “ He looked at Robby again.
"You've got to listen to me. I saw your sister today. With her."
"With who?”
"You know who."
"I don't know what you're talking about and I wish you would leave me the fuck alone!" Robby spun on his heel and hurried away.
The man hobbled quickly to catch up with him. “Does she come to your house at night?" he asked, stepping in front of Robby and bringing him to a stumbling halt. "After all the doors are locked? Does she just appear? Like a ghost? She can put everyone else into a deep sleep, you know. Even someone lying right beside you. So they can't hear what she's doing to you. She did it to me. But after a while, she doesn't need to, because everyone is so weak, so ill, that they spend most of their time sleeping anyway."
Robby prepared to deliver another threat, but he said nothing. Gooseflesh crawled across his back and his hands trembled. He wanted to hurry away, but couldn't.
"You don't look well," the man continued. "The flu? Is that what you've got? Yeah, that's what we thought it was. But I know better now. Because I don't think the flu would make my wife take a chainsaw to my son. Or to me. That's how this happened, you know." He touched his fingers to his mangled cheek. "She did this with a chainsaw. Five years ago. And she didn't have the flu. But we did have something else. A new neighbor," he whispered. "A beautiful woman. A very friendly woman. She was especially friendly to us and to the family three houses down."
When the man took a step closer to him, Robby’s testicles crept up inside him.
"Do you know what happened to the family three houses down?" The man waited a moment, then: "The man beat his nine-year-old daughter's skull in with the butt of a shotgun, then tied his naked wife to a chair, stuck the barrel into her vagina and fired. If nothing like that has happened in your neighborhood yet, it will soon. I figured within the next few months, but I know now that it'll be sooner. Probably much sooner. I can tell by looking at you. It's going to happen soon and maybe in your house. Because she's there. Across the street from you. And she's already started, hasn't she? She's… seduced you, hasn’t she? Probably your father. Maybe even your muh – “
"You're insane," Robby croaked. His throat felt made of half-dry cement, his scalp was crawling over his skull and his eyes were beginning to mist. "Stay away from me. Just… stay away."
"It won't be long before you realize I'm telling you the truth," the man said, his voice trembling with urgency. "The people around you will begin to change. You'll change. Your thoughts will not be your own. You'll need me," the man snapped. "When that happens – “ He pulled a slip of paper from his coat pocket and stuffed in into Robby's. “ – call me at that number. I can help you. I'm the only one who knows how." He turned and hobbled away quickly.
Robby walked numbly into his biology class and clattered into his desk, interrupting Mr. Hinchley's lecture. Normally, he would have felt self-conscious, but he didn't even notice the stares or Mr. Hinchley's icy glare. Robby opened his
notebook on the desk, moving stiffly, mechanically. Mr. Hinchley's voice was a distant buzz. The only things on Robby's mind were the words of the man with whom he'd just spoken.
She's already started, hasn't she? She’s… seduced you, hasn’t she?
Started what? Started what!
Robby heard nothing in biology class or the social studies class that followed. He spoke to no one on the bus going home, and as he walked down Deerfield to his house he saw and heard nothing. Inside, Jen said something to him – something about Mom being sick in bed – but he heard little more than a garbled hum, didn't even see her, really, just went straight to his room and flopped onto his bed without even taking off his coat.
Sleep. Robby wanted nothing more than to allow himself to slide down to the very bottom of a deep, murky bog of sleep. His descent began the moment he felt the mattress beneath him. Mud and moss sucked him slowly downward, oozing between his fingers and legs, creeping up around his face and hair… taking him away from everything.
But he wouldn't let himself sleep. He dragged himself off the bed. He had to talk to her, tell her what the man had said, and ask if she knew him.
Robby left the house, again ignoring Jen, crossed the street and rang Lorelle's doorbell.
Her muffled voice came from somewhere inside: "Come in!"
Inside, the first thing he saw was the sculpture. He half expected Lilith's head to turn toward him and grin.
"Who is it?" Lorelle called from another room.
He heard her footsteps hurrying down the hall. She appeared in a long black robe that was thin as tissue; he could see her naked body beneath it, but immediately lifted his eyes to her face, determined not to let the robe – or the body beneath it – divert his attention.
"I need to talk to you, Lorelle."
"I'm so glad you came over. I was just thinking about you." She reached for his hand, but Robby stepped back.
"No. We have to talk."
"We don't have to talk here, do we?"
"Yes."
"Robbyyyy." She smirked and shook her head slightly, as if she were disappointed in him.
"There was a man here. Friday. He walked with a cane. You called the police. I watched from my bedroom."
"Yes, there was a prowler. Why?"
"Who was he?"
"I don't know. Just a prowler." She took his hand again. "You look tired, Robby."
"I saw him again on Saturday. And today. At school." His voice was low, breathy; he stepped back and leaned against the wall because the strength seemed to be draining from his legs. "He says… he knows you."
"He's probably just some crazy old street person who eats out of the neighborhood garbage cans. That's all. Come here. You look so tired."
She led him slowly down the hall – slowly, because Robby's steps were uncertain and clumsy – and into the bedroom, where she seated him on the bed, took off his coat and eased him back onto the pillows.
Robby felt himself sinking into that bog again and fought it, trying to sit up, but Lorelle pushed him back down, gently. Her hand felt cool on his chest, and above him he saw her nipples brush against the thin material of her robe. She melted in a watery blur as she began to unbutton his shirt.
"No," he breathed, "nun-no more. Please."
"I know you don't mean that, Robby." Her voice seemed to come from a great distance. "Just relax."
With his shirt off, she started on his pants. With his eyes closed, Robby felt her cool hand on his cock. He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them to see her slipping her robe off. She leaned forward and squeezed his cock between her breasts.
Robby moaned, tried to sit up, couldn't and fell back down on the pillows. He tried to think clearly, tried to remember what the stranger had told him about her but -
– she sucked his cock hard, squeezing the head between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, and all thoughts were crowded from his mind as he began to experience the familiar feeling of being drained once again… emptied… wrung dry…
Moments before he came, images began to appear and disappear in Robby's mind, like flashbulbs going off unexpectedly -
– a long rusty nail piercing smooth babyflesh -
– vivid, disturbing images -
– a shiny razor blade slicing through a tongue -
– that strengthened the pounding beneath his cock -
– a shotgun barrel sliding into a vagina and firing with a violent kick -
– and made him cry out with simultaneous horror and ecstasy.
By the time the first orgasm made him convulse like an epileptic having a seizure, Robby had completely forgotten the stranger's warning, and even the stranger himself.
* * * *
Jen was curled up on the sofa with a textbook open beside her and the telephone receiver pressed tightly to her ear. She wore an excited smile and hugged her knees, rocking back and forth on the cushion with one fist clenched.
She was excited because Woody Gibson was on the phone and wanted her to go out with him that night. Her fist was clenched because she couldn't afford the time with so much homework to do.
"I thought you might wanna see a movie," Woody continued. "And we can get something to eat, too, if you want. Like, at Harry's Diner, maybe?"
"Jeez, Woody, I'd love to, I mean, I really would,” she said, thinking, You have no idea how much I want to get out of this tomb. "But I've got… well, I know this is gonna sound stupid, but… I've gotta study. See, there's a history test tomorrow and if I don't study for it all evening I'm gonna – “
"History?" There was a smile in his voice. "With Mr. Lee?"
“Uh-huh."
"Well, I can help you with that."
"You can?"
"Sure. I was in – “
Jen pulled the receiver away from her ear when she heard a sound. At first, she thought her mom had gotten out of bed and was coming down the hall, but the hall was empty.
“ – member that I'm a year ahead of you. I took all of Lee’s tests and he's so predictable I could – “
She heard it again, lowered the receiver and frowned. It was a soft, dry scratching sound.
"Can you hang on a sec, Woody?" she asked, then set the receiver down and stood.
She'd been jumpy lately. Things were very strange in her house and she didn't understand why – everyone was acting differently, walking around with long, pale faces, saying nothing, quick to anger and slow to apologize, if they apologized at all. So she was sure the sound was nothing and she was simply overreacting.
The third time she heard it, she realized it was coming from the front door. She went to the door, locked it and asked, "Who is it?"
The only response was a soft whine.
She opened the door a crack and saw one of Miss Dupree's dogs on the porch. Jen quickly opened the door, weak with relief, and said, "Sodom! What are you doing here?"
The dog stood and pressed his head to Jen's thigh.
"Did you get locked out?" She wrapped her arms around his furry neck and gave Sodom a hug as he licked her cheek, then he turned and started down the walk. "Where you going?"
The dog stopped and turned to her, waited a moment, then walked back up the steps and licked her hand. Turning, he went all the way to the sidewalk, then looked at her again and uttered a brief, quiet bark.
He wants me to come with him! Jen thought with a laugh. She hurried inside and grabbed the receiver. "Woody? Can I call you right back? It'll just be a couple of minutes, I promise. 'Kay?"
"Sure."
She got her coat, then followed Sodom across the street to Miss Dupree's house.
The dog stopped on the porch and looked back to make sure she was there, then lifted a paw and scratched at the front door. It swung open.
"Oh, the door wasn't shut," Jen said, going in. "So that's how you got out." She closed the door and looked around for Miss Dupree. "Hello? Miss Dupree?" No one responded, and Jen stepped into the living room where Gomorrah met her with a toothy canine
grin.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the black sculpture in the corner. A rush of heat filled her cheeks and she stared open-mouthed at it for a moment; then, feeling embarrassed and guilty, she turned away, cleared her throat and called, "Miss Dupree? It's Jen. From across the street?"
Still no answer.
But there was a sound.
It came from down the hall.
Reluctantly, Jen followed the rhythmic thumping sound down the hall, flanked by Sodom and Gomorrah. The sound was coming from a room at the end of the hall. The door was open a few inches and Jen lifted a hand to knock, took a breath to call out again, but -
– she heard a long throaty moan and froze. She slapped a hand over her mouth and breathed, "Ooohh, shit" into her palm.
Miss Dupree was in bed with someone.
Jen's face grew hot and she felt the same chest-tightening feeling of dirty, forbidden excitement that she'd felt the day she'd watched Robby masturbating.
Then there was silence, except for the whisper of slow movement.
Sodom and Gomorrah sat side by side in the hall behind her.
Hand trembling, Jen pushed the door open a little further, leaned forward and peered into the room.
The shades were drawn and no lights were on, but in the murky room, Jen could make out the figure of Miss Dupree sitting up on a bed. She was naked and leaning over someone who lay still beside her. Miss Dupree's long hair spilled over the body beside her and her hand was… it was…
Jen pressed her lips together to hold in her abrupt gasp.
The man lying on the bed was also naked and Miss Dupree's hand was wrapped around his -
– thing, Jen thought, his thing -
– penis and she was doing to it exactly what Jen had seen Robby doing to his six years ago. Her hand and the penis glistened wetly in the darkness.
Jen's own breathing changed as she watched the gentle way Miss Dupree moved her hand on the erect cock. Jen swallowed hard, told herself she should go. She was about to back away from the door when -
– Miss Dupree looked up and said, "Hello, Jen."
She did not silence her gasp this time. "Oh! I-I'm sorry, Muh-Miss Dupree, really, I'm vuh-very sorry. I was just – Sodom came over and – I brought him back and – “