by Hamill, Ike
“No,” George said. He jerked and tugged at the straps that held him down. “Don’t go back…”
That’s all she heard.
Amber tripped on something that was impossible to see under the fuzzy purple lights. The wire tripped her and she was tumbling towards the floor. Unwilling to let go of the stake that she was clutching, she tried to twist herself away from the approaching concrete as she fell. Her elbow hit first and a numb wave of pain shot up through her arm. She had just enough time to flip onto her back, holding the stake out in front of herself, ready to impale the old man if he tried to descend on her.
He didn’t.
Amber tried to kick his hand away, but his device made contact with her ankle. At first it didn’t seem to have any effect other than to paralyze the leg that it was zapping. Then Amber realized that her thoughts were resetting in quick bursts and she couldn’t move.
# # #
The overhead lights were so bright that they seemed to drive purple spikes directly into her brain. Amber squeezed her eyes shut but could still see the purple fuzziness through her eyelids. Somewhere close, she heard a moan and wondered if it was George.
Her mouth tasted like copper. She moved her tongue around, opened her mouth as much as she could and screamed for help.
The moaning stopped.
With a thunk, the lights went out.
Amber tried to turn her head. The strap came from behind her ear, crossed over her cheek, and was held in place by a cup on her chin. She worked her chin around, trying to get free. Her head was twisted to the side, just like George’s. As her eyes adjusted now that the lights were off, she could see the back of his head.
From the cold air, she knew that her own neck was exposed, just like his.
Another moan came from behind her.
“Quiet,” George whispered.
Amber strained her arms and legs against the straps. The table under her was padded. Pushing against the straps, she was able to press herself down into the padded table enough so that she could tilt her head back and work her chin free from the cup. Her jaw clicked as worked it back and forth to liberate it. Amber wriggled her head until she got the strap up over her nose and off her forehead.
She gasped with effort and managed to raise her head.
The garage door was open all the way.
Outside, night was falling fast. George was on her right and Ricky was to her left. Blood was leaking from Ricky’s temple and had run down his face.
“Ricky?” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
At the sound of her voice, his eyes seemed to come into focus and he blinked and nodded.
Amber turned back towards George.
“George, are you…”
“Quiet,” he whispered again.
Amber pulled at the strap on her wrist. Now that her head wasn’t pinned down, she was able to lean to the side and push her right hand towards the place where the strap was attached to the table. The extra slack allowed her to get a little distance between the strap and her wrist.
“Get your head free,” she whispered to George. “If you can…”
“Shhhhh!”
Amber wanted to scream at him. Why did it matter how much noise they made if they were tied up? Instead she took a deep breath and held it, trying to hear what he heard. The hollow knocking almost sounded like a woodpecker, thumping at a terribly slow, deliberate speed.
She knew precisely what was making the sound.
“It won’t help,” she whispered. “Staying quiet isn’t going to save you. Try to get your head loose.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Turn your head towards me and try harder.”
Stretching her shoulder to the limits, she was able to nearly get the strap pinned between her wrist and the table. She was trying to turn the nylon loop so that it was perpendicular to her arm.
George let out a strained cry and then a breathy grunt.
“I can’t.”
“Get your jaw loose first. Pull your chin back.”
While she listened to him struggle, Amber inched her hand back towards her body. Twisting one way and then the other, she thought she might be able to pull through. She lifted herself up onto her elbow and cursed under her breath when she couldn’t wriggle her arm any farther.
“I think…” George started to say.
Amber looked at him. His ear was folded over by the strap and in the low light she saw blood beginning to leak down the side of his neck from the tearing skin. With a cry, he jerked his head back and his head popped free.
George lifted up enough to turn towards her and their eyes met.
“Good,” she whispered. “Now that you’re head’s not pinned, see if you can slide to the side and get your hand free.”
Her voice was strained as she applied more and more pressure to her wrist. It felt like the strap was cutting right through her skin.
George wasn’t moving.
His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open.
“George!” she whispered.
Ricky moaned, “No!”
Amber twisted to try to see what George was focused on. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the glowing, swirling hint of light hanging over Ricky and Amber froze. She didn’t let her eyes land on the thing—she knew that would mean death.
Thirty-One: Ricky
Ricky woke up while he was being dragged. The hands gripping his ankles were strong. He tried to thrash and kick, but he had no strength in his legs. After being shocked, he remembered the arm that closed around his neck and the world floating away. First his back and then his head thumped down three stairs to a hard floor. Bright flashes of light exploded in his vision and left him with a pink glow.
There was something familiar about the glow.
The hands dropped his ankles. A moment later he was being lifted by his arms and rolled forward onto a soft table. Ricky could barely see through blurry eyes. His body was flipped and then bound. The table was rolled.
Every time he tried to open his eyes, the lights above drove spikes of pain into his head.
He moaned.
Over the sound of his pounding heartbeat, he heard something breathing. Ricky listened. With a mechanical click, the hurtful lights above went out and he opened his mouth to call for help. All that came out was another moan.
He heard a voice say, “Quiet!”
Ricky couldn’t tell if he had imagined the whisper or not. He wanted to believe it was true because it had sounded like George. Blinking until his eyes came into focus, he saw Amber on a table next to him. She was strapped down as well, but she could at least turn her head.
Ricky tried to hear what they were saying to each other, but everything was jumbled by the foggy sounds of his own blood rushing through his veins.
His gaze turned upwards. It hurt to move his eyes that far, but he endured the pain because there was something moving above him and he needed to know what it was. When he saw the tiny flicker of faint light up there, he knew for sure—it was one of them. One of the creatures was up there, moving through the unfinished rafters. Ricky realized that they were in the garage.
The monster began to lower itself down, like a spider dangling from a web. He struggled, but his arms and legs were pinned. He couldn’t even turn his head to get a good look at the thing as it descended. It dropped silently from its perch and he barely felt it as it landed on top of him.
Ricky froze.
Amber was whispering something.
Even without looking at the monster, he could feel the pull of the glowing eyes. They were like a deep well and he was standing at the edge with his toes over the depths. The idea entered his head that everything would make sense to him if he just turned to look at it. There was peace waiting for him in those eyes. But he couldn’t turn. His head was strapped to the table and his eyes were already cut as far to the left as they would go. Ricky began to pray that it would bend down and look at him directly so he could plunge into the safet
y of its glowing eyes. He opened his mouth to beg for the monster’s kiss.
It looked away.
Once it wasn’t focused on him, Ricky understood that it had all been a trick. There was no peace there—only parasitic death.
The creature had now had its gaze directed elsewhere.
Amber said, “George!” and Ricky’s blood went cold. He knew that it was going to take his brother.
“No,” he said.
Thirty-Two: Amber
Amber pressed her head into the table and squinted until she could only see straight up. Shadows moved around in the rafters of the garage. They weren’t even bothering to hide themselves. This was their territory and they knew they were safe to do whatever they pleased.
The creature on top of Ricky reached over with a dark claw that tickled her ear when it stepped on the table next to her head. Amber stayed perfectly still and watched as it slowly extended itself, moving from Ricky’s table to hers. The thing’s head was directly above her and she could see the swirling lights of its eyes, refracted through the lenses of its corneas. Amber squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that it would look down and mesmerize her.
The skin that slipped across her cheek was cool and moist.
Amber held her breath.
It had George in its spell and it was going to attack him at any instant. It was careful, creeping up on George in slow motion. Amber wondered if maybe it was immature or inexperienced. Maybe George was going to be its first kill and the others above were waiting to see their new offspring feed.
She felt its other claw land next to her arm and pictured the thing straddling her as it crept towards George.
From outside, she heard the hollow thump again and the creature above her froze like it was listening.
As soon as it resumed creeping forward, Amber did the only thing she could think of.
With a scream that tore through her throat, Amber thrust herself upwards and drove her head forward, hoping to knock the monster off balance. She quickly hit the limits of her bondage, but she made contact and was rewarded with a surprised screech from the creature. It scrambled down the table. She felt the claws pull at her clothes as it fled and then she heard its claws scrape on the floor as it ran.
The shadows above began to shift again.
Amber squeezed her eyes shut as pairs of glowing galaxies lit up above her.
“Close your eyes!” she screamed.
“What?” George asked. He sounded drugged.
“George!” Ricky yelled. “Shut your eyes. Shut them!”
Amber thrashed and tugged at the strap on her wrist. She was determined to get free or tear the skin off of her hand trying. It felt like she was doing just that. A stinging heat, like a burn, flared in her wrist but she fought anyway, letting her fear and adrenaline make the pain inconsequential.
“What happened?” George asked. His speech was still slurred.
“Shut up and close your eyes,” Ricky said.
Amber’s thumb cracked and popped when she finally tore her hand free from the strap. Her eyes flew open in surprise. She saw them—a dozen sets of eyes, maybe more, and they were hanging from the rafters, lowering themselves down.
“No!” she screamed.
The thumping accelerated and sounded much closer now.
They weren’t trying to hypnotize her. She didn’t even think it would be necessary. There were so many of them and they all had long, sharp claws. With one hand and both feet still bound, they would easily tear her apart.
The thumping reached a crescendo and it was joined by another sound. She saw a light flicker across the garage.
“A car,” Ricky said, and then, “Is that a car?”
The light came back. It was still dim, but it was cutting through the airborne dust right over her head, separating her from the creatures. She saw them pull back to the safety of the rafters and she turned away as their glowing eyes opened wider. Amber realized that if they couldn’t come to her they would entrance her until she wanted to go to them.
“Keep your eyes shut,” she said as the light grew brighter.
Amber reached over and tried to figure out how the strap on her other wrist was secured. The car’s engine grew louder and the lights became bright enough that she could see the blood dripping down her fingers. She reached under the table and finally found the strap’s buckle. Pulling on the plastic clasp, it popped loose and slackened the strap. With some frantic tugging and pulling, her other hand was free.
The car screeched to a stop with its headlights flooding over the three of them. The high beams came on, making Amber squint. Instead of freeing her feet, she reached over and found the buckle for one of Ricky’s straps and then flopped over to free George’s arm.
A car door opened.
“Boys?” a woman’s voice called.
“Mom?” George asked.
“Get in the light!” Ricky yelled.
Thirty-Three: Alan
Earlier that morning.
“Can’t you just drop me off in the teacher’s parking lot?” Joe asked.
“Nope,” Alan said with a big smile.
“After everything?” Joe asked.
Alan laughed. “I assume you remember the bicycle altercation, Joe.”
Joe frowned.
“Is that a yes?” Alan asked.
Joe made a noise that could have been taken as a yes.
“And what did we learn from the bicycle altercation?”
“Never mind.”
“No, you brought it up. You asked the question—can I drop you off in the teacher’s lot? What’s my answer?”
“Rules aren’t changed by unrelated circumstances.”
“Close enough,” Alan said.
He took a left and pulled up into the drop-off lane. Most of the kids getting out were freshmen students. Joe’s friends usually carpooled with each other and parked next to the baseball diamond. They wouldn’t be caught dead in the drop-off lane at the main entrance. That was strictly for the uncoolest of uncool kids.
When Joe opened his door to get out, Alan yelled, “By, Joe, honey! Have a great day at school.”
Alan was still laughing after Joe slammed the door.
While he put his turn signal on and waited for a gap in the cars, Alan picked up his phone and sighed. There was still no message from Amber or Ricky. He picked up the satellite messenger and was about to send a question when the person behind him honked.
Alan pulled out and headed towards the house.
He had a list of the things they had forgotten to pack in their haste. On that list was a toaster. Alan was torn between bringing the one from their kitchen counter or picking up a brand new one later in the day. The one at their borrowed house was terrible, but he thought it might be bad taste if they left a new one there.
His phone rang and he hit the button on the dash, answering before he checked to see who it was.
“Hello?”
“Alan?” Liz asked.
“Oh.”
“Disappointed that it’s me?” she asked.
“A little,” he said. “I’m hoping to hear from one of the kids. Actually, I’m kinda hoping that they decided not to go. I have this…”
“So call Mary,” she said. “Or, use that satellite…”
“Yeah, I will. I’m almost at the house now. I’ll do it when I get there.”
“Good—that’s why I’m calling. Don’t forget to shut off the automatic alarm test. It’s going to go off this weekend and I’m afraid the Palanges will hear it.”
“Good point,” he said.
He was barely listening as he slowed. His eyes were locked onto the side of the road where the pavement gave way to gravel and mud.
“Hey,” he said. “I gotta go.”
“Okay. Check in later and stay safe.”
“Will do.”
He pulled over. The house was just around the bend and the next nearest house was several hundred yards behind him. There should have been no reason fo
r the tire tracks he saw in the mud. There was something about the tracks that sparked a memory, although he couldn’t place it.
Alan rushed back to the car when he heard the satellite messenger alarm.
It was from Amber.
“Up behind Jan’s at the graveyard. Found a hole. Ricky & I are about to check it out. Will message when we get out. How are you?”
He typed, “All fine here. PLEASE be careful and send a progress report when you can.”
He stared at the screen for several seconds and then realized that she wasn’t going to reply.
Alan continued to the house and pulled up the driveway. He slowed and turned when he saw the window that was patched with a piece of plywood. After he shut off the engine, he simply sat there for a minute, regarding the house and trying to figure out what was out of place. The house looked hollow or maybe barren. He spent a lot of time in the house alone, so it should have been perfectly normal to see the place empty, but this was different. There was no life in the place. Nobody was coming through the door to greet him.
“No dog wagging its tail and coming to welcome me,” he whispered to himself. It was a strange thought. They didn’t even have a dog.
Alan picked up his phone. He didn’t have her number labelled, so he scrolled through until he found one with a local exchange and he pressed the button to call.
She answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
She sounded cold—almost angry.
“Mary?”
Her voice warmed up immediately. “Who is… Alan?”
“Yeah. Sorry to bother you. I was wondering about Tucker?”
“Tucker? What about him?”
“Where is he? Did Ricky take him up north?”
