by Jenna Lehne
“Good point,” I say. I hold my breath as Teddy slowly opens the door. No one is there.
“Hello?” Teddy sticks his head out but no one answers him. He shuts the door and slides the deadbolt into place. “That was weird. I thought someone was knocking.”
“Me too,” Peyton and I say.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Teddy spins around and lunges for the deadbolt. He slides it open and yanks the door open. Crunching gravel is the only sign that we’re not alone. “Murphy, lock the door behind me.”
That’s all he says before he takes off after the phantom knocker. I run over to the door but Teddy is already gone. I shut and lock the door, even though I don’t want to. I’d rather chase after Teddy and help him face whatever fear is lurking in the shadows.
“Murphy!” Peyton screams from the kitchen.
I do a one-eighty and sprint into the kitchen. Peyton isn’t alone. A tall, thin man is standing behind her. He’s familiar for some reason, like someone out of a dream…or nightmare. One of his pale hands is resting on Peyton’s shoulders. Spindly fingers graze her sun-kissed collarbones. The other hand is delicately stroking her hair. He’s humming a twinkling lullaby, the one about pretty horses. His features are all sharp and pointed, from his nose to his chin. His eyes are small and dark brown, like two small beetles behind thick glasses.
“Hello?” I walk toward them slowly. The man still hasn’t acknowledged me.
“Help me, Murphy,” Peyton whispers. She’s pale and trembling. Her face is slick with sweat. She’s gripping the table so hard her knuckles are white but she isn’t trying to get away.
“Shhh, princess, its okay,” the man croons softly. “Uncle Andy’s here.”
Nausea cramps my stomach when I realize who this sick fuck is. His sugary sweet voice takes me back to that summer ten years ago. To sleepovers filled with tearful confessions. To vows of protection made in tree houses. To group therapy appointments and lifelike puppets. To whispering mothers in the carpool line. To Peyton refusing to wear anything less than shorts and a t-shirt to the pool. To fistfights and court hearings. To convictions and headlines.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I whisper. My voice trembles with a decade worth of rage.
Andy’s hand’s drift over her shoulders and wrap around her throat. “Keep quiet, little one. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
“Please make him stop,” Peyton sobs.
I grab Peyton’s hand and try to pull her to her feet.
Andy’s hands tighten and Peyton’s breath gurgles in her throat. I let go of her and Andy’s hands loosen.
I look back at the front door. I won’t be able to fight Andy off on my own. I need Teddy.
Andy leans down and presses his nose into Peyton’s neck. “I missed you,” he murmurs.
Peyton’s eyes flutter back into her skull and her mouth goes slack. I’ve seen her like this before, it always happened when her therapist pushed too hard. Peyton shutting down; she’s retreating to a safe place.
Good. She shouldn’t have to see this.
I back up until my back brushes against the island. I reach behind me and wrap my fingers around a brushed aluminum handle. I slide the butcher knife soundlessly from the block.
Andy is whispering into Peyton’s ear. He doesn’t see me coming. I lash out with the knife and aim for his throat. He catches my wrist without even looking at me. He grabs my other wrist and slams me against the wall. The knife falls to the ground.
“I remember you.” His breath is hot on my face. It smells like beer and spearmint. “I never got to play with you. It’s nice we finally get a chance.”
I jam my knee into his crotch but he doesn’t even flinch.
“Tsk tsk, Daisy. That’s not very nice.” Andy leans forward and runs his tongue along my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut and lean away from him. My stomach aches and my skin burns, but there’s nothing I can do. I’d rather bathe in all the spiders in the world than have this miserable excuse of a man touch me.
Peyton silently rises behind Andy. She stares at me, unblinking, and holds her index finger up to her lips. She raises the knife over her head and plunges it into Andy’s back.
He sags against me before Peyton grabs his collar and shoves him to the ground. Blood blooms from the slit in his white collared shirt. He disappears before a drop can hit the ground.
Peyton chucks the knife onto the table and collapses into the chair. She sobs so hard it comes out like more of a scream. I don’t touch her. Any contact will feel like acid. Instead, I pour her a glass of water and sit across from her until she stops crying.
“I know that wasn’t real, but it felt like it was,” she whispers. Her eyes are puffy and swollen, but she’s otherwise unharmed. “Killing him felt good. Does that make me a freak?”
I shake my head. “If it does, then we’re all freaks. God knows I would’ve killed him if he didn’t grab me. Teddy would have too.”
Peyton catches my eye. “Where is Teddy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m going to go find him.”
Peyton tosses back the rest of her water. “I’m coming too.”
“I’ll check the dock.” I slide my sandals on and open the sliding door.
“I’ll check the yard and meet you on the deck,” she says.
“Be careful,” I say. “Yell for me if anything happens.”
“You too.” She squeezes my hand then beelines for the front door.
I take the stone stairs two at a time. I run to the end of the creaky wooden dock but Teddy isn’t there. I scan the lake for ripples, but it’s as smooth as glass. I get that sinking feeling you get when someone you loved hasn’t gotten home yet and you hear about a fatal car accident.
“Teddy, you better be alive or I will kick your ass,” I say under my breath. Muttering threats makes me feel the tiniest bit better.
“Murphy!” Peyton shouts from the deck. She’s waving frantically at me. “I found him!”
I run up the stairs as fast as I can. “Where is he?”
“He’s in the garage, but he’s freaking out. I can’t get him out.”
I run along the side of the house and into the garage. It’s empty.
Peyton points over my shoulder. “He’s over there.”
I walk to the end of the huge wooden work bench Dad installed last year. Teddy is crouched beside it. His arms are over his head and he’s rocking back and forth.
“Hey,” I say softly. I sit down in front of him. “What happened?”
“The walls,” Teddy gasps. His face is slick with sweat. His breath comes in shudders. “They closed in on me. I haven’t been claustrophobic since I was a kid. I tried to calm down but I couldn’t. The room got so small, Daisy. I couldn’t breathe.”
I gently pry his hands off his head and thread my fingers through his own. “It’s over now. Let’s go back inside.”
Teddy lets me pull him to his feet before he darts out of the garage. I brush past Peyton and follow him out.
“It’s not okay,” Peyton whispers to my back. “It’s not okay.”
I know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
We go back inside and try to eat. We don’t speak, we just sit. I spoon rice into my mouth and swallow without chewing. The texture reminds me of the tiny spiders. I push my plate away. I can’t stop thinking about Hayley, Oliver, and Henry and the way they died. More importantly, I can’t stop thinking about why they died. If this fear demon, Korku, exists, what does he want? And how can we make him stop?
I shatter the silence. “I think we need to try and communicate with Korku again.”
“No way,” Peyton says at the same time Teddy agrees with me.
He turns to face Peyton. “Maybe we can find out why he’s doing this to us, and maybe he’ll stop.”
Peyton shakes her head violently. “Let’s just get out of here. If we start walking now, maybe we’ll catch someone going home.”
“How?” I ask. “There’s no gas in any of the vehicles we checked and we haven’t seen another person all weekend.”
“The sun is already setting,” Teddy says. “It’ll be pitch black in an hour.”
I stand up and bring my plate to the sink. “And don’t you remember what Henry said? This is bear country, Pey. We have to stay here tonight, we don’t have a choice. The least we can do is try and figure out a way to survive.”
Peyton flinches at the mention of Henry. “Fine,” she says. “But if Uncle Andy shows up again, I’m out.”
Though we probably shouldn’t be voicing our fears out loud, I can’t help but agree. “I’ll follow you. Now I burned the Ouija board already…anyone know a way to chat with a demon?”
The scene is eerily similar to the first time we dared to communicate with other side. Teddy, Peyton, and I sit on the floor in front of the fireplace. It’s dark aside from the last struggling rays of sun and a few candles flicking in the middle of the circle. We all join hands.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing. This kind of stuff was always Hayley’s thing,” I say. “But if anything gets crazy, let go of each other’s hands. That should break the séance. At least I think that’s the general rule.”
Peyton snorts. “I highly doubt Korku gives a fuck about any sort of rules.”
“You’re probably right, but we should try and follow some sort of plan,” Teddy says. He reaches for Peyton’s hand and mine. “Ready, Daisy?”
I don’t bother asking him not to call me that. Instead, I nod and say, “As ready as I’m going to be.”
I squeeze Peyton and Teddy’s hands and close my eyes. It isn’t a heavy silence that falls on us this time, but a light, fragile one, like paper-thin sheets of ice on a fall puddle.
“We summon you, Korku, demon of fear,” I say. “If you’re here, give us a sign.”
I hold my breath until my lungs ache. Nothing happens.
“Maybe you need to be more specific?” Teddy offers.
I let out my breath and clear my throat. “Korku, if you’re here, bang on the roof or the wall.”
We wait.
“I told you this was a waste of time,” Peyton says. “Let’s just get our stuff and-”
A quiet, but definite thump comes from the low ceiling above the loft.
Peyton’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head.
“Korku,” I say. “Do you want something from us? Thump once for yes, twice for no.”
We wait. My heart beats so loud it’s all I can hear. Another thump, this one a little louder, comes from the loft.
“Did you kill our friends?” My voice cracks. I squeeze my eyes shut. “Do you want to hurt us?”
Thump.
“That means yes,” Teddy whispers. “It killed them.”
Thump.
“It wants to hurt us too,” Peyton whimpers.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Each time it grows louder, like Korku is coming down the stairs to greet us himself. The final thump is so loud it rattles the windowpanes.
“Oh God,” Peyton moans. I open my eyes just as hers roll into the back of her head.
I whip around and face the stairs. Hayley is standing at the bottom of them. She’s still bloated, her bulbous veins straining against her pale grey skin like fat, blue spider webs. She opens her mouth and brown, chunky lake water pours out.
Teddy grabs my arm but I’m too terrified to move. I sit there, a catatonic statue, as Hayley takes jerking steps toward us.
“Hayley,” I manage to spit out.
A deep, throaty grown gurgles up her throat. Her neck snaps violently to the side.
"That's not my name," Hayley's reanimated corpse says. Her voice cracks and snaps like fire.
Teddy grabs me under my armpits and drags me to my feet. Peyton is sprawled out on her back, completely unconscious. One of the candles flickers out.
"Korku," I whisper.
Hayley's mouth widens into a smile. It stretches further and further until her skin splits. All of her teeth are showing, even her molars. She clicks them together like she can’t wait to take a bite out of me. “Yes, child.”
“What do you want?” I fight the urge to run away, but only because I can’t leave Peyton.
“Your soul.” Hayley’s mouth stretches into a merciless, braying laugh. Her mouth opens wider and wider until her jawbone snaps. Her jaw swings wildly as Hayley laughs impossibly loud.
Peyton wakes up and her screams rival Hayley’s.
“Get out!” Teddy shouts. He grabs Peyton and hauls her to her feet.
I sprint for the patio door and wretch it open. I slam it shut once Teddy and Peyton come out. I stare into the living room long enough to see Hayley’s lifeless body collapse into a heap.
“Murphy, come on.” Teddy grabs my arm but I shake him off.
“We still need to get out of here,” he says. “What if he possesses one of us next?”
Good point. I grab his outstretched hand and reach for Peyton. I catch air and that’s it. She’s gone.
“Where’s Peyton?” I ask Teddy.
“I don’t know. She was right here.” Teddy leans over the balcony railing. “She’s not on the stairs or the dock.”
A blood-curling shriek comes from the side of the house covered in shrubs and weeds. Teddy and I run around the deck and toward the screams. We find Peyton is in the middle of a thick, black swarm of wasps.
“Get them off of me,” she bawls. She bats at the insects covering her arms and legs. Even from here, I can see the angry welts rising off her skin.
I rush down the tiny set of stairs leading to the grass and into the infestation. “It’s not real!” I shout above the buzz. Wasps sting and bite my arms and chest, leaving hot spots of pain.
“It sure feels fucking real,” Teddy says. He covers his face with his t-shirt and tries to brush the wasps off Peyton’s squirming body. “Stay still, Peyton!”
“I can’t,” she says. A wasp dive bombs the corner of her mouth and stings her lip. Another hits her eyelid. The swelling is almost immediate. She howls, covers her face with her arms, and sprints into the tiny shed that has been there longer than the cabin itself. She slams the door shut and peers out the tiny, dirty window.
The wasps abandon Teddy and I and fly at the shed. The cover the cracks in the aging wood and line up around the doorframe. We make it over just in time to see a wasp disappear through one of the larger cracks around the window.
I press my face against the window and shout at Peyton. “You need to come out. We’ll run for the lake – they won’t follow us into the water.” I grab the tiny door handle and yank on it. It doesn’t budge. I smack the door. “Peyton!”
“I know how to get rid of them.” Peyton’s voice is muffled. The sweet smell of gasoline drifts out from under the door.
I hurry over to the window and look inside. Peyton has an ancient can of gasoline in her hands. She spins in a circle, dumping it around her feet. I turn to Teddy. “Can you break the window?”
Teddy draws back his elbow and sends his fist through the glass. It shatters on impact.
“No! Now they’ll all get in. What have you done, Murphy?” Peyton drops the gas can and I hear a small, scratching noise. Wasps pour into the open window and make a sick, gothic crown on her blonde head. She doesn’t swat at them.
“Don’t light that match,” I beg. “Let’s go to the lake, please Peyton!”
Teddy tries the door but she must have wedged it shut.
“It’s all going to be okay now, Murphy,” Peyton says softly. “You’ll see.”
She lifts a lit match for me to see. And then she drops it.
The flames are almost instant. They leap up the walls and flicker out the tiny window.
“Peyton!” I scream. I jam my arms through the windows and reach for her. Fire licks my forearms and the scent of burning hair clogs my nostrils.
Peyton screams as
her shorts begin to smoke.
“Teddy! Break the door down!” I pull my arms out of the mini inferno and run to the door.
“I’m trying, but it won’t give.” Teddy kicks the door but it doesn’t budge. It seems like it’s made out of concrete rather than decades-old wood.
“Get me out of here,” Peyton wails. She sticks her puffy, red arms out the window and claws at the air.
I catch her hand. “Try to climb out the window!”
Peyton lunges for the window but she can’t get anything other than her head and one arm out. Wasps crawl down her face and fall onto the ground, dead from the smoke inhalation. More screams pour out of her as the flames rise above the window. Smoke, too much smoke, billows behind her head. Peyton claws at it, her hands coming back blistered and coated in fried chunks of hair.
“I’ve got you, Peyton, it’s okay.” Teddy rushes over and grabs Peyton’s arm and tries pulling her out the window, but it doesn’t help. She’s trapped.
Flames kiss her cheeks and her screams stop. She sags through the open window as the fire races up her head. Her hand is still in mine. Her cheeks erupt into humungous blisters, her scalp morphs into a twisted, red wasteland. Teddy and I drop her hand. She falls backward into the fire. I jump for the window but Teddy grabs me around the waist and hauls me backward.
“Let me go, you bastard,” I snarl.
“You can’t save her, Murphy,” Teddy says. “She’s gone.”
I kick and claw at Teddy but he doesn’t let me go. He drags me down the driveway as the shed becomes completely enveloped in flames. And then, just like that, the flames disappear. The shed turns to ash and disintegrates onto Peyton’s charred, smoldering body.
“She’s dead,” I whisper. All traces of fight leave my body and I sag against Teddy.
My best friend is dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Teddy lets me cry in his arms for a few minutes before he gently sets me on my feet.
“I’m going inside to grab some supplies,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
“Wait,” I mumble. “We can’t be alone. It’s not safe.”
Teddy tucks me under his arm. “I’m not sure if Korku is tied to the house or not, but I think we need to take our chances on the mountain.”
