Sight Unseen

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Tell me what you see; tell me what you feel,” she demanded as she kissed him harder and longer, trailing her lips over his cheeks and down his neck. She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers down his chest. Then she shifted to the right so she could comfortably bring her hand down farther until she reached his crotch.

  The shock of a girl grabbing him there nearly threw him into a retreat. He wanted to bolt for the door, but her grip softened and warmed. She was making small circular motions with her palm. He was drawn to it as his blood rose to the surface.

  “Tell me more,” she whispered again. “More, more…”

  “I…” She pressed her tongue into his mouth. He closed his eyes. Her fingers had moved up to the top button on his pants. He felt her undo it.

  “Yes?” she said. “Yes?”

  The sexual excitement and the whiskey churned his thoughts. Images began to spin. He could barely make out shapes or faces. Colors merged into rainbows. Faces liquefied. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. Her hand was in and under his underwear. He felt the tips of his fingers reach down. He was sinking, but sinking into her. Sex magnetized them. They were merging. It was almost as if—yes, he could see himself through her eyes. He looked as if he were growing, expanding with every beat, every pulsation. Now, he was absorbing her. She was sinking into him.

  Was she still talking? He heard voices, one of which was hers, but she wasn’t talking exactly—she was screaming. He closed his eyes. Naked, she was squatting in a bathroom somewhere and there was blood, a thin pool of it around her feet. In her hands was a straightened hanger.

  The screaming continued. It was too ugly; it was too terrible. He could stand it no longer. He opened his eyes and discovered that it was he who was screaming.

  Still bare breasted, Pamela sat back from him, a look of shock and surprise on her face.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you? Don’t tell me that hurt? I haven’t seen a boy yet who didn’t love it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh shit with your huh.” She stepped off the bed.

  He looked down at himself and saw that his pants had been undone and his fly zipped all the way down. She put on her bra and reached for her sweater.

  “So much for magical sex,” she said. “Everyone’s going to be disappointed.”

  “Everyone’s what?”

  “What did you think? I had the hots for you?”

  “What do you mean?” He sat up and closed his pants. He was beginning to feel nauseous.

  “Nothing. You wouldn’t understand.” She looked at him curiously for a moment. “Why did you scream? Were you afraid or something?”

  “No. I…” This was some kind of experiment, he realized and recalled how the girls looked when he first entered Marsha’s house. Even Westlake probably knew about this, he thought. Who knew who else was in on it? A group of them could be waiting right outside the door for the story. “I saw something…something terrible,” he said.

  “Yeah? And what was that? My hand on your cock?”

  “No. It was you in a bathroom, bleeding to death,” he said. Her mouth dropped.

  “You’re lying.”

  “It’s what I saw. You were squatting on the floor, and there was blood all around you. In your hand—”

  “That’s ridiculous. That’s a lie. You got scared; that’s all. It’s the first time a girl ever touched you. You’re lying,” she repeated. He shook his head. “What bathroom? Where?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize it. Maybe it was your house. You looked older, though.”

  “I hate you,” she said. “You’re cruel.” She turned quickly and went to the door. Then she looked back at him. “You’re lying, you bastard,” she said and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

  He sat up in the bed and rubbed his face. Why did he drink so much whiskey? The nausea wasn’t lessening, and his head continued to spin. He had to lie back again and close his eyes. Almost as soon as he did so, he fell asleep.

  He wasn’t sure how long he was there before Ted came. He had to shake him to wake him.

  “Hey, what the hell happened to you?”

  He looked past him and saw Diane standing in the doorway. He sat up slowly and wiped his face, remembering. Then he looked to see if there was anyone else standing behind her. It didn’t look like there was.

  “I guess I had too much to drink,” he said.

  “You scared the shit out of Pamela. She’s telling all kinds of stories about you downstairs. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “He doesn’t belong here, Ted. He shouldn’t be brought to these parties. He’s too young,” Diane said. He heard it, heard it clearly, and it struck him like a blow behind the neck. It had the effect of sobering him somewhat. He looked about the bedroom, remembering it all, even the horrible visions.

  “Come on,” Ted urged. “You’ve got to get out in the air.”

  He let Ted lead him out of the bedroom and to the front door of the house. When he stepped outside, the cool air did relieve him somewhat. He saw that Diane hadn’t followed. Maybe she didn’t want anything else to do with him anymore.

  “I’ll take you home,” Ted said.

  “No, that’s all right,” he said. “I’ll walk.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “All right,” Ted said. “The walk is probably what you need, buddy. See you.”

  “Yeah, see you,” he said and started away. He turned back after a few steps, but the door was already closed.

  Marsha Goodman’s house was a mile and a half from Centerville. There was no streetlights this far out so he had to walk through the pitch-black night. An occasional passing vehicle lit the road ahead of him, but as long as he remained on the macadam, there was no real difficulty. He had walked alone in the evening on dark country roads before. Of course, tonight was different. He was still feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he was upset.

  However, none of this could explain the sudden cold feeling he felt at the base of his neck. It started down his back, sliding along his spinal column like an icicle melting in the bright, late winter sun. He shivered, hugged himself, and then spun around.

  Someone was there in the darkness, watching him. He could feel him, even though he couldn’t see him. His heart started to pound, and the cold chill turned quickly into a hot flash. He peered into the darkness, straining to distinguish shapes and figures. Who was it? What did he want? Had one or more of the kids followed him out of the house for a joke? It would be just like them to do something like this, he thought. The ridicule he had already suffered didn’t satisfy them. They were all high on booze.

  He saw a shadow move against the inky background and sensed a familiarity. He knew this shadowy figure; it was the same shadowy figure that had been in the woods at Diane Jones’s house. Whoever had attacked Buzzy was standing out there, waiting, watching.

  For a few moments, he couldn’t move. His feet were frozen to the pavement, as if the icicle he had first felt on his spine had settled under the soles of his shoes, binding him to the road. Indeed, he felt like someone who had stepped on thin ice and was now sinking into the water, the intense cold making it impossible for him to struggle against his drowning.

  Who was he? What did he want?

  The shadowy figure merged into the background and moved closer to the house. David realized the dark evil wasn’t after him. Whoever the dark figure was, he was waiting for someone else to come out of that house. Someone else was in danger.

  He looked down the road toward the village and home. It would be easy for him to break into a run and make it to the perimeter of illumination cast by the first streetlight. But he couldn’t just flee to save his own skin. Besides, it wasn’t his skin the evil was after.

  He turned back to the house, clinging to the heart of the darkness as he scurried along the shoulder of the road. He watched for the shadowy evil, but he saw nothing and was able to make it back to t
he front door safely. He looked back once and then went in.

  The music downstairs had changed. Now it was loud and fast, and the voices of the kids sounded more frenzied and louder as well. There was a lot more shouting, a lot more laughing. He realized all or most of them had done considerable drinking by now and were probably feeling the effects. He paused at the doorway to the basement because Carrie Dickens and Bob Sacks emerged from one of the bedrooms behind him. When Carrie saw him standing there, she straightened her skirt and ran the palms of her hands down the sides of her blouse. He couldn’t help staring.

  “What are you looking at?” Sacks asked belligerently as they went past him and down the stairs to the basement. A moment later he followed them, but he stopped on the stairway as soon as he reached the step low enough to give him full view of the basement and the crowd within. No one noticed him or paid any attention to him.

  He stared at them all, moving his eyes over each of them to see if he sensed anyone in particular danger, but they all looked the same. Finally, Ted, who was standing by the refreshment table in the rear with Diane, turned from the boys he was talking to and looked his way.

  “Hey!” he called. David didn’t respond. “Hey,” he repeated, raising his voice and tapping Diane on the shoulder. He pointed to David. She turned, too, looking impatient about his reappearance.

  Ted went to the phonograph and lifted the arm off the record. There was a loud groan from those who were dancing. Ted raised both his hands, palms out, and pumped the air a few times. Then he pointed to David. Everyone looked with curiosity. Some of the girls giggled, and there were more groans and complaints.

  “Quit for a minute, will ya,” Ted said. “What’s up, David? Why did you come back?”

  “There’s someone out there,” he said. He said it slowly, dryly, in a so matter-of-fact tone that no one responded for a few moments.

  “Is it the boogeyman?” Peter Carson asked. Everyone laughed.

  “Yes,” David said, but because he didn’t crack a smile, everyone stopped laughing. “And he’s just waiting for someone. I don’t know who he is waiting for, but he’s waiting.”

  “Jesus. What an imagination,” Marsha Goodman said. “You better stick to your tricks,” she added. There was general agreement and some more laughter.

  “It’s past your bedtime,” Pamela said stepping forward. “That’s why you’re having all these dreams.”

  “Not wet dreams,” someone quipped, and there was more laughter.

  David didn’t budge.

  “He’s out there. Waiting,” he said.

  “Oh Jesus. Take him home,” Marsha said turning to Ted. “He’s your pet.”

  Ted looked at Diane and then up at David.

  “Shit,” he said. He and Diane started across the floor. Someone put the phonograph arm back on the record, and the dancing and conversation resumed, even louder than before. “Let’s go,” Ted said starting up the stairs.

  “He’s out there,” David repeated.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go on,” Ted said, waving him forward. Diane stopped behind them at the top of the stairs.

  “Maybe I’ll just wait here for you. It won’t take you that long,” she said. Ted nodded, annoyed. He put his hands on David’s shoulders and headed him toward the front door.

  “You shouldn’t leave her here,” David said when they stepped out of the house.

  “Maybe this thing is getting to your head, David. It was fun at first, but I don’t know now.”

  David studied the shadows in front of the house and across the road, but he no longer sensed the same danger. Ted looked in the directions he was studying.

  “I don’t see anything or anyone, David.”

  “He’s not there now, but he was.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. I’ll take you home. No telling what you would get into if I let you walk.”

  “I can walk,” David said. “You better stay here with her.”

  “She’s not going to go anywhere without me, and she’ll just get pissed off if I don’t take you, so come on.”

  Reluctantly, David walked to Ted’s car. He paused once again to study the darkness around the house.

  Nothing.

  “Come on,” Ted said. “I want to get back, not baby-sit all night.” David got in and they started toward town.

  “I’m telling the truth,” David said. He regretted the whine in his voice.

  “Maybe you oughta stop coming to these parties, David. These kids are too old for you.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with it. I was on my way to town when I felt him watching me, so I turned around and saw the shadow. It was the same shadow that attacked Buzzy.”

  “A shadow can’t attack someone, David. It’s got to be a person.”

  “I know, but…” He wondered if he should try to explain his theory about shadows and reality. Would Ted understand? “Maybe shadows are the real thing,” he began.

  Ted made the turn into town and stepped on the accelerator. “What the hell are you talking about now?”

  “Shadows may be more than shadows. How do we know they’re not?”

  “Oh man. Look. I think we’ll lay off the tricks for a while, kid.”

  “No, I’m serious. Didn’t you ever think about it?”

  “Not recently, no, but later tonight I’ll see if I can strike up a conversation with my shadow,” he added and laughed. David felt the heat rush to his face.

  “I thought I could talk to you,” he said.

  “Sure, you can talk. Only talk sense.” Ted turned up his hill and brought the car to a quick stop in front of David’s house. “Here you are. Get a good night’s sleep. And put your shadow to sleep, too,” he said. “He needs a rest.”

  “Thanks a lot,” David said and got out quickly. Ted peeled out, spinning the gravel up against the fence. David stormed into his house, waking his mother, who had fallen asleep in his grandmother’s chair. The radio was still on even though the radio station signed off, and there was only static. Once she realized what had happened, she sat up quickly.

  “Look how late it is. Where were you?”

  “At a party,” he said and started for his room. She rose out of the chair to follow him.

  “Wait a minute, David.” He turned around and could see from the way her nose moved that she had caught the scent of whiskey. “Where the hell were you?”

  “I told you. At a party.”

  “What party?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I want to know.”

  “Marsha Goodman’s house.”

  “Marsha Goodman?” She thought for a moment. “Isn’t she a senior?”

  “So what?”

  “What are you doing with the seniors?”

  “Playing spin the bottle,” he said and laughed. Her face reddened.

  “You’ve been drinking whiskey. I smell it. My God.” She brought her hands to the base of her throat. The pained expression on her face reminded him of his grandmother and made him feel guilty for being a wise guy.

  “I gotta go to sleep,” he said.

  “This is what you’ve been doing? Staying out late these nights, hanging around with older kids, and drinking whiskey. You’re taking after your father.”

  “What do you mean?” He stepped toward her. “He was a drunk?”

  She didn’t respond. She just kept nodding as though everything she had suspected was now confirmed.

  “I don’t want you going to any more of these parties,” she said. “Do you hear me?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not. They think I’m a joke. They think I made it up about the shadows,” he said. He was just babbling now; he felt lonely and sad again. His grandmother’s absence made the air stifling and heavy. It was as if a dark, gray cloud had entered the house. Even though he was only a short distance from his mother, she looked out of focus. He was looking at her through gauze.

  “What shadows? What are you talking about?” He didn’t respond. “You’re dr
unk. Go to sleep.”

  He nodded and looked to his right. Then he turned completely around and looked behind him and then to his left.

  “What is it now?”

  “I’m looking for my shadow,” he said. “He’s got to sleep, too.” The shocked look on her face made him laugh. He laughed again and again until his laughter began to turn into crying. The tears flowed down his cheeks. She went to him and pulled him to her, embracing him tightly.

  “Oh David, poor David.”

  It felt good to have her hold him. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against her warm body. Finally, she led him to his bedroom, still holding him against her. He got undressed and crawled into bed. She brought the blanket up to his chin and tucked him in, just the way his grandmother used to do it. She stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. She even hummed a few bars of one of the Hungarian melodies his grandmother used to hum. He closed his eyes and then he heard her leave the room, closing the door gently behind her.

  Almost immediately he envisioned himself on the dark road just outside Marsha Goodman’s house. Only this time he saw himself running. He was in a panic. He turned when car headlights washed over him, and he saw that the approaching vehicle was a hearse. He squatted back in the darkness and watched it go by. It was Mr. Sills again, but now the back of the hearse was opened and as it went past, David saw a deer laid out like a person in a coffin. The animal was frozen. There was actual frost on its hooves and nose.

  He fell asleep with that image on his mind.

  8

  The more David thought about what had happened to him at Marsha Goodman’s party, the more indignant he felt. He was embarrassed by what had occurred, especially when he was with Pamela Sue, but he was also angry and disappointed in the way Ted had treated him that night. He decided to avoid the upperclassmen, which was a good thing since they began to avoid him as well. For days afterward, he knew he was being made fun of.

  A group of junior and senior girls would be talking in the halls at school. When he appeared, just the sight of him set them giggling. He knew they were still laughing at him for returning to the house to warn them that night. Also, he imagined Pamela had related the tale of the episode in the bedroom, elaborating on it. It was her way of getting even with him for the vision he had described, the vision that had frightened her.