When the Devil Takes Hold

by Jenna Lehne

  We leave the house and I lock up, not that it really matters. No one in their right mind would want to spend time in this dump without a hazmat suit. Teddy tries the jeep, but the needle is hovering below empty, just like the old guy said. Teddy jumps out of the jeep and bends down to tie his shoe.

  “We better check the other houses,” I say.

  “Wait a second.” Teddy leans forward and touches a wet mount of dirt near the side of the jeep. He brings his fingers up to his nose and sniffs. “Sonofabitch.”

  “What’s wrong?” I pull Teddy up and grab his hand. It looks fine.

  “There’s gas on the dirt. Like someone just siphoned it.” Teddy lets out a string of curse words put together so eloquently it sounds like poetry.

  “But the old guy said all the gas was gone,” I say. “Why would he lie?”

  Teddy shrugs and kicks the wet dirt. “He probably didn’t want to drive us back to town.”

  I think about his leering gaze. “Or he wanted us to stay here. You don’t think he had anything to do with Hayley, do you?”

  Teddy’s gaze darkens. “I didn’t before you said anything.”

  I grab Teddy’s arm. “What if he’s still around?”

  “I won’t let him near you. Let’s go check the other houses. Maybe he missed a vehicle.”

  “I doubt it,” I say.

  Teddy lets out a humorless laugh. “Me too.”

  The next house we check is the Frank’s. Their house is a charming little stone cabin, complete with a wishing well on the front lawn. The door has a window built into it; from what I can see, this house hasn’t been trashed. Everything seems normal, except for an odd scratching noise.

  “Do you hear that?” I ask Teddy.

  He presses his ear against the door. “It’s probably just a fan someone left on or something.”

  I push the key into the lock and open the door. It jams against something, so I bump the door with my hip. A swarm of brown, black, and grey critters pour out the door. I yelp and jump backward, but it doesn’t help. Rats, mice, and all the tiny beasts in between scuttle over my flip-flops, their tiny claws slicing my skin. They tumble over each other, moving forward like a rolling wave. Squeaks and shrieks fill the air. The smell of molted fur and shit blows into my face. My stomach turns, aching to rid itself of what little remains. I try to run, but the animals are stacked halfway up my calves. I trip and land on my hands and knees. Tiny bones crack under my knees as I fall onto an unfortunate group of mice. The ones under my palms sink their tiny teeth into my fingers.

  “I’m coming, Murph!” Teddy kicks a huge, chubby rat off his sneaker. It squeaks and gnashes its teeth pathetically. Teddy charges through the writhing fur mass towards me. He bends down at the last minute and wraps his arms around my waist. He hauls me to my feet and tosses me over his shoulder. Teddy sprints down the driveway and doesn’t set me down until we’re a safe distance away.

  “What the actual fuck was that?” He bends down and brushes the coarse black hair off his jeans. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be after I bathe in disinfectant,” I say. My hands and feet are covered in tiny cuts that are begging for a peroxide shower. “I’ve never seen a rat this high up the mountain.”

  “Me neither.” Teddy shakes out his limbs. “I wonder where they came from? It doesn’t make sense.”

  I think back to the Sanderson’s. “Nothing about this day is making sense. Let’s just check out these other houses and get it over with.”

  Even though we leave the rats behind, I can still feel the coarse fur scraping my ankles.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I don’t stop Teddy from opening the next door.

  “Stay back in case there are more, uh, critters,” Teddy says. He pushes the key into the lock and turns it. The door opens with a long, soul-chilling creak.

  I press my back against the wall and wait for the tidal wave of vermin. Nothing happens. “Are you going to go in?” I ask.

  Teddy edges into the house. His eyes widen. His breath leaves his mouth in a hiss. “Shit.”

  I walk into the house on the balls of my feet, a habit I picked up when I first started sneaking out of room. It makes me feel sneaky, like I could disappear if I wanted to. The inside of this house makes me wish I could vanish right now.

  The entire interior is stark white. Everything from the counters to the floors, the table to the couch pillows is white.

  “Did it always look like this?” Teddy asks.

  I shake my head.

  “I didn’t think so,” he says.

  I step lightly through the living room and into the kitchen. I pull open the closest drawer to me. It’s a junk drawer, filled with everything from measuring tapes to thumb tacks. It’s all white, even the scattered safety pins are a harrowing shade of eggshell. Teddy opens the fridge and finds the same shade everywhere. Even the carrots - or what I think are carrots - are white.

  “Let’s check upstairs,” I say.

  We climb the stairs, our shoes leaving smudges on the bone-colored wood. There’s no possible way that the Dahl’s could’ve done this. The walls and tables, maybe, but not everything else. Not the sewing needles in the junk drawer or the tiny numbers on the clock.

  Picture frames line the empty hallways. The Dahls smile at us, no longer tan but albino. I push open the first door on the right. The bathroom is sparkling clean. The scent of bleach still hangs in the air.

  “This is the only room that doesn’t look creepy,” I say. A glint of metal beckons me toward the sink.

  “I’m going to check out the other rooms,” Teddy says. “Then let’s get out of here. I feel like I’m losing my tan.”

  “Kay.” I walk toward the sink. It’s a large, deep standalone model. The kind that is usually in basements and butcher shops. Lying in the bottom of it is a stainless steel hacksaw. I reach in and pick it up. The metal is cool against my palm. The wicked sharp teeth glint in the fluorescent lights. I run my fingers over the sawed edge. The points drag against the pads of my fingers like a whisper; a whisper that’d turn into a scream with a bit of pressure.

  “Murphy!” Teddy’s voice echoes down the sterile hall.

  I drop the saw with a clatter and run out of the bathroom. The door at the end of the hallway is open. Teddy’s body blocks the opening. I duck under his arm and step into the room. It’s not like the others. It’s not white. Not at all.

  A metal bedframe is pushed into the far corner. There isn’t a mattress, only cruel rusted springs that stretch from one side to the other. Metal shackles hang from the four posts. A pool of blood so red it gleams black covers the polished wooden floor below. Crimson handprints cover the pale yellow wall behind the bed. A large ‘H’ followed by an ‘E’ take up half the space. The ‘L’ trails off in a bloody arch that ends where the floor begins.

  “What do you think happened in here?” I back up into Teddy’s chest. His heart slams against my spine.

  “I don’t know,” he whispers. “But we should get the fuck out.”

  We back out into the hallway. I start to run, but skid to a stop at the last door on the left. White pop-out letters spell out, ‘Princess Gabby’s Room.”

  “What if the Dahl’s are still here?” I ask. “We need to check the other rooms.”

  Teddy nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll be right back.”

  I open Princess Gabby’s door and push it open. My feet meet soft, plush carpet. A princess bed, canopy and all, is empty. I look around the room. It’s empty. There isn’t a spot of blood anywhere. I turn around to leave but pause when I see the closet door. One of the folding doors is slightly ajar. It wasn’t when I came in. A gross sinking feeling fills my stomach, but I force myself to move. I open the closet door and stifle a scream. The carpet in the closet is completely drenched in blood. A tiny fleece-covered chair is crusted over with carnage. I swallow the rising bile and stumble out of the closet.

  “The Dahl’s are dead,” Teddy says. He closes the door behind him
and meets me in the hallway. We join hands and sprint down the stairs, out the door, and up the driveway. When we stop running, I lunge for the nearest bush and empty my stomach. Teddy falls onto his butt and drops his head between his knees.

  “We really need a fucking phone,” Teddy says. “Someone killed those people. There weren’t any bodies, but there was so much blood.”

  “I know. I saw it in the little girl’s room. Let’s just go back to the cabin. We’re not going to find anything in these hell holes.” I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “At least we’ll be safe there.”

  “Safe from what?” Teddy stands up. “Rats? Murderers? Time machines?”

  “I don’t know, Teddy.” I shrug helplessly. “But whatever is happening out here doesn’t seem to be happening at my cabin.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He starts walking toward the cabin. “People are dying at your cabin, but at least there aren’t any white walls or mice.”

  The venom in his voice makes me freeze.

  Teddy stops walking and turns around. He closes the gap between us in three large strides. “I’m sorry, Murph. I’m just freaked out.”

  “I’m afraid, too, you know.” I let Teddy pull me into his arms. “All of these cabins are set up like people’s nightmares.”

  “Maybe that’s all this is,” he murmurs into my hair. “One long, bad dream.”

  I breathe him in. This can’t be a nightmare. Not all of it has been bad. Teddy has been good. “Do you want to check the last house?”

  Teddy lets go of me. “Not really, but we probably should. The last house could have what we need.”

  We walk down the gravel road that leads to the last house we have to check. I drag my feet, our destination feeling more like the gallows than someone’s home. The house comes into view a few minutes later. It’s an old yellow Victorian that’s been completely redone. It has a huge wraparound porch and wooden shutters covering the windows. It used to be my dream house. Now I’m wondering which one of my nightmares lies within.

  “Can I?” Teddy holds out his hand for the key. I give it to him. He opens the door and steps inside.

  I shrink back from the open door. What’s going to be inside? The bodies of the Dahls? More decay and rats?

  Teddy sticks his head out the door a few minutes later. “I think it’s safe to come in. There aren’t any mice or crazy paint jobs.”

  “What about bloody handprints?” I step inside. Teddy’s right. Everything looks completely normal. I bunch my hands into fists just in case someone comes flying out of the closet.

  “The house is torture chamber free,” Teddy says. “I checked all the bedrooms too.”

  “I guess we should look for some supplies then.” I slide open a drawer and am rewarded with a cell phone and charger. I hold it up for Teddy and smile.

  “Nice,” Teddy says. “They might be the kind of people that have legit emergency supplies. I’ll go check the basement if you want to finish this floor?”

  “Sure.” I don’t want to be left alone, but I also don’t want to spend any longer away from the cabin than I have to. I move onto the next drawer. It’s full of playing cards, pencils, and other necessary tools for family game night. I move onto the next drawer as the floorboard creaks behind me.

  “Did you find anything?” I grab a pack of batteries out of a cupboard and put them on the countertop. Teddy doesn’t say anything. The floor sighs again. I turn around and come face to face with a tall, blond boy. A tall, blond boy who is not Teddy.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Oh my God, you scared the crap out of me,” I say. “I didn’t think anyone was home. We haven’t seen anyone at the lake all weekend.”

  The boy’s face is blank, like he’s not hearing the words I’m saying.. He brushes by me on the way out of the kitchen. The hairs on my arm stand up so quickly they feel like thousands of teeny little swords poking into my skin. I follow him through the living room and up the stairs.

  “Hey,” I say again. “Did your parent’s drive you down here? We need to borrow a car. Our friends, uh, our friends got hurt and we need to take them back to town.”

  The boy keeps walking down the hallway. Either he’s deaf or a total asshole. I reach out and grab his shoulder. He freezes under my touch and turns around slowly. His eyes are wide, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He stares around me – more like through me – at something at the end of the hallway. I turn around but nothing is there. I let my hand fall to my side.

  I follow him into a room, his I’m assuming. He shuts the door behind us. He pulls out a small key and locks the door. I should be freaked out about being locked in a room with a stranger, but he doesn’t seem to be dangerous. He just seems scared.

  “If you just take a second to talk to me I’ll get out of here. Are your parents home? Maybe they can drive us down the mountain….” My words trail off as the boy begins to unbutton his plaid shirt. He slides it down his shoulders, revealing smooth, white skin. The shirt falls to the floor and my breath is sucked out of my chest. The boy’s back is covered in cruel, scabbed over burns. They shroud his back in a cape of small, perfect circles.

  Cigarette burns.

  I recoil in horror. I grab the doorknob but it won’t turn without the key. “Are you okay? If you give me the key, my friends can help you.” I cross the room and touch his shoulder again. His skin is cool, like windowpanes in the middle of the winter.

  He swirls around, reacting again to something I’m either not hearing or not seeing. He takes wide steps over to the door and presses his ear against it. Suddenly he’s thrown back against the wall as the door caves inward. A larger, thicker, older version of the boy steps into the room.

  “What the hell?” I hold my hands up and take a step back.

  The man grabs the boy by the arm and yanks him to his feet. He pushes him toward the bed. The boy digs his feet into the carpet, the action earning him a brutal kick to the spine. The boy falls onto the bed.

  I grab the pocket flashlight and hold it over my head like a bat. “Leave him alone!”

  The man ignores me. He raises his fist and drives it into the boy’s nose. The boy goes limp, blood pouring from his nostrils and mouth.

  I throw the flashlight at his head but it somehow misses him. I grab everything and anything I can find and hit the man, but it doesn’t faze him at all.

  The man hits the boy again and again, like he’s trying to punch through to the mattress. The boy isn’t moving anymore. When he finally stops, his fists are caked in blood. He spits on the bed and turns around.

  “You sonofabitch!” I climb onto the bed and jump off it. I land on the man’s back but slide off almost instantly. I can’t sink my nails into his neck or anything. It’s like he’s made of frozen, unyielding steel. He leaves the room. I follow him down the hallway and into the next room. I scream for Teddy.

  A frail, brunette woman is sitting next to a small bed in the room. A little boy, no older than ten, is lying still atop the covers. A rumpled pillow lies next to his head. His lips and chin are tinged blue. The woman blots her eyes on a tiny t-shirt and stands to her feet. She grasps the man’s hand and they walk out of the room

  I reach for the woman’s shoulder as she passes by me. “What are you doing? You can’t leave him like that. We need to call 911. Do you guys have a phone?”

  She ignores me like all the rest of them. Panic rises up in my chest. I run over to the little boy and grab his shoulders. He’s cold and still, but he doesn’t feel like Hayley and Oliver. He feels like his breath was never there to begin with. An icy chill crawls up my spine. The door creaks open again. I turn around and the older boy is standing behind me. His chest is stained red and his nose is indented. He holds out a hand to me.

  “I want to show you something.” His voice sounds like shattering icicles.

  I rise to my feet and take his hand. I should be screaming for Teddy again and getting away, but I can’t stop myself from going with the boy. I
can’t make myself look away.

  He slides his fingers through mine and my entire arm goes numb from the chill. We walk to the room at the end of the hall. He pushes the door open and we step in. The brunette woman, his mother I’m assuming, sits in her bed. The sleeves of her dress are rolled up and there’s a razor in her hand. Before I can stop her, she slides the blade up the insides of her wrists. Blood spills out of the wounds and drenches her lap.

  I lunge for the bed, but the boy’s iron grip stops me.

  “She’s already gone.” He tugs me toward the bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “What am I seeing?”

  The boy bends down and whispers into my ear. “The end.”

  The huge man lumbers into view and sits on the edge of the bathtub. He’s holding a long, polished shotgun with a crudely sawed-off barrel. He shoves the end of it into his mouth. Before I can close my eyes, he pulls the trigger. The back of his head explodes and bone shrapnel peppers the glass tiles lining the tub. Blood sprays out, speckling the boy’s already crimson chest. He turns around slowly and grabs my other hand. He backs me up slowly until I’m pressed against the wall.

  He leans down, his breath washing over me like a cool fall breeze. “Do you get it yet, Murphy?”

  The truth of what I’m seeing settles into my brain. My scalp tingles with understanding. “You’re all dead, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” he says. “But we’re not the only ones, are we?”

  Footsteps thunder up the stairs before Teddy slides into the room. “There you are. I was looking everywhere.”

  I’m alone. The boy, the blood, the gun, it’s all gone. My knees start to shake so hard I collapse on the ground. “The boy...did you see the boy?”

  “What boy?” Teddy slides his arm under my knees and wraps the other around my waist. He picks me up and walks me over to the bed. Instead of setting me down, he sits on the mattress and holds me in his lap. “Are you okay?”

  I lean against his chest and close my eyes. “There was a family. They died in this house. All of them.”