Imp

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Well… we had to discuss some serious things. It was lettin’ up some and …”

  “Never mind trying to explain. Kids in love don’t feel the cold or the wet. So what happened?”

  “Her mother was waiting there instead. She surprised me.”

  “What’dya mean?” Eddie was very interested now, but he tried to control his enthusiasm so as not to frighten Bobby. There was a long pause, during which Bobby reached back and felt the back of his neck.

  “Did she do something to chase you away?”

  “Yeah. She threw boiling hot water down on me while I was on the ladder. She waited until I was quite a ways up. I lost my grip and fell.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. If she says I was trying to break in, it’s a lie,” Bobby said quickly. “I swear, I was just going over to see Faith,”

  “Take it easy. We don’t know she’s going to say anything yet. I’d better get you home. Did she burn you?”

  “A little on the neck. Do you have to come in with me?”

  “No, I won’t go in. Not unless she does make a complaint. But my advice to you and your girlfriend is meet someplace else.”

  “Fat chance of that now,” Bobby said. Eddie drove on to the Oaks driveway to turn around. He paused for a moment and looked up at the house. Only one window was lit and that was rather dim. In the rainy darkness, the large old building looked eerie and frightening.

  “You been in that place?”

  “Not really.”

  Eddie grunted and backed up quickly. When they reached the O’Neil driveway, Bobby opened his door before Eddie had come to a full stop. He wanted to run to the garage and get everything put away, but the moment he put his foot down, he knew he’d have to limp.

  “Sure you’re all right?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Take care,” Eddie said. Bobby waved. Eddie watched him for a moment and then shook his head. “Boiling water. Holy shit,” he mumbled and then realized he’d be late for his rendezvous with Cy Baum in his basement. As he drove on, he thought that his initial instincts about all this were being reinforced. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about the conclusions, whatever they might be.

  Mary was concerned. Although she felt strong and confident, she also felt heavily put upon. The Devil was coming at her from every direction. Shut in the basement, he hovered just under the floor, breathing and peering through every crack. She kept him contained, but he was always there, a reminder of the evil that had touched her.

  Now he had touched her daughter, as well. But she had countered by imprisoning her in holy words and prayer. Her spirit would be cleansed and she would be purified once again.

  Finally, he had come from the outside in the guise of that boy, assaulting her “castle of perseverance.” She had driven him back into the darkness from whence he had arisen. She was victorious on every front. Glory to God in the highest.

  After she shut Faith’s bedroom window, she decided to go back to her and speak to her through the locked door. Faith should know how strong are the good and the faithful and with what righteous might the hand of God could fall. When she got there, she stood by the door listening. Faith heard her approach.

  “Mother? Is that you?”

  “Why aren’t you praying? You must pray.”

  “Mother, please.” Faith came off the bed and stood against the door. She turned the handle. “Let me out.”

  “You have nothing to fear anymore. I have driven him away.”

  “Driven him? Driven who? Please, Mother, just listen to me.”

  “He that came out of the night. He had come for you, but I was there and I was prepared.”

  Faith waited, her head against the door. Was Mary being literal or figurative? Who did she mean? Bobby?

  “Mother?”

  “He was climbing up to your room,” she said, now more in whisper. “Coming to take you, to spoil you, to turn you into a thing of the night like him. But I was waiting and I baptized him in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost,” she said and she laughed.

  “Mother… you don’t mean … what did you do?”

  “Pray. Read the Scriptures. John, Chapter III. Get it. I want to hear you read.”

  “Mother, please.”

  “Read. Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us …”

  “Mother, listen to me. Listen, listen. It’s about the baby in the basement…” Faith thought the only way to reach her now was to tell her what she thought, but Mary wouldn’t listen. She raised her voice.

  “WHOSOEVER COMMITTETH SIN TRANSGRESSETH ALSO THE LAW: FOR SIN IS THE TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW.”

  “MOTHER! I THINK HE’S OUT. I THINK THE BABY’S BEEN OUT. DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? PLEASE. OPEN THE DOOR. WE HAVE TROUBLE … HE HURT SOMEONE … BOBBY’S LITTLE BROTHER. MOTHER!”

  Faith waited, but she heard nothing.

  “Mother?”

  She pressed her ear hard against the door. She thought she heard Mary’s breathing.

  “Mother,” she said in a loud whisper.

  And then she heard her footsteps, going away, going toward the stairs, descending … into silence.

  TWELVE

  At the sound of a car door closing, he stirred and peered through the rain and the darkness. He saw the gray shape of a big creature. He thought it was running toward him, so he backed even further into the depths of the under-porch; but when the light spilled up from the opened cellar doorway, he saw that the creature was going to go down the steps and into the house.

  As soon as the creature disappeared, he edged his way out from under and moved quickly over the wet earth, until he reached the basement landing and could look down. The door was slightly open and there was enough light escaping to attract his curiosity. Was the little girl there now? Could he slip through that entrance way and find her?

  He came around and paused on the first step. His heartbeat quickened as he considered the possibility. Moving his feet inch by inch, a very cautious little creature, he reached the second step. Then the loud sound of the voices within sent him scurrying up and away to cloak himself in the darkness. There he waited and listened, but the big creature did not reappear. Still, his courage had been damaged.

  Indecisive, he remained there, not retreating to the under-porch and not going back to risk descent into the basement. He was oblivious to the rain and the chill, because his attention was so fixed on the action in the cellar. He half-expected and half-hoped that the girl would emerge. Although the voices below were muffled, he could tell when they were near the door. He was as patient as a cat.

  But the thin ray of light over the basement steps stirred his imagination and memory. The sliver of illumination reminded him of the big creature’s strap. In his mind it had a life of its own. Like a snake, it could come out, slithering up those steps, looking for him. To his thinking, the strap would be found in any cellar. His vision was so vivid, that he actually retreated a few steps in anticipation.

  When the cellar door opened completely, he was so terrified of the possibility, that he scurried back to the under-porch, where he curled up protectively, hugged himself, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, the light was gone, but he thought the big gray figure was still there in the darkness. After a moment more, he caught its silhouette and saw it go away. Relieved, he loosened the grip on himself and relaxed. He closed his eyes, unable to fight back the fatigue. But just before he drifted off, he envisioned himself going down those steps again. This time staying there until he found the girl.

  Cy Baum was at the basement door when Eddie parked his ear and came running to the house. Eddie couldn’t remember a night as dark as this one. He kept his voice low, figuring they were still supposed to keep this rendezvous a secret from Hilda.

  “Raining like hell,” Cy said. “The heavens just opened up.”

  “Yeah.” Eddie shook some of the water off and lowered his hood. He looked at the rabbit squatting by the pole. “So
, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Didn’t mean to get you out on a night like this. It coulda waited, I suppose.”

  “No problem. Quicker we get to the bottom of this, the better we’ll all feel.”

  “That’s for damn sure.”

  He followed Cy to the beam and knelt to look at the print on the floor. Cy handed him a flashlight, but the increased illumination washed out the detail.

  “What’dya think?”

  “Just this one?”

  “Well, I didn’t check out the whole floor, but…”

  Without offering any comment, Eddie paced about slowly. He knelt down every once in a while and studied what caught his eye.

  “Another one here,” he said. “And here.” He examined one more closely and measured it with his long fingers and big hand. “It looks human, all right,” he finally said.

  “That’s what I thought. That’s what I thought!” Cy repeated with excitement. Eddie stood up and looked at the old man. His face softened, as he felt a mixture of frustration and humor.

  “It’s no mystery though, is it, Cy?”

  “What’dya mean? Sure it is. That’s a real little kid. That’s a …”

  “It’s probably Gina’s print.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your granddaughter. It must be about her size foot, don’tcha think?”

  For a moment Cy just looked at him. Then he shook his head.

  “No, can’t be Gina’s.”

  “Why not?” Eddie smiled.

  “Well she … this is made by someone barefoot.”

  “So?”

  “She never comes down here barefoot, Eddie.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I didn’t put the rabbit down here until late yesterday afternoon and she was wearing shoes the whole time.”

  “She came down after or …”

  “No, we came down together all the time. And in the morning she didn’t come down until I sent her in. You were here then. We had gone out to put a bag of garbage in the can and then we were going to get the rabbit when you pulled up.”

  “Cy, it has …”

  “I’m tellin’ you, Eddie. It ain’t her footprints.”

  Eddie took a deep breath and knelt down beside one of the prints again. There wasn’t much detail, but he did notice that the toes looked stilted or curved. The tips of them were awfully close to the sole of the foot. Or paw. Or whatever the hell it was. What the hell was it, if it wasn’t his granddaughter’s foot? The old man had to be wrong, but Eddie thought it was probably best to humor him about this.

  “What kind of animal out here makes a print that close to a human’s?”

  “Nothin’ I know. I imagine a monkey’s is, but I don’t know anyone who has a monkey, do you?”

  “If anyone did, how would it get in and out of here, anyway?” Eddie asked and regretted it immediately.

  “Gotta have more brains than a monkey then, don’t it?”

  “Look, Cy, we’ve got to be sure. Tomorrow morning some time, get Gina aside and ask her about it. See if she didn’t come down here some time when you were unaware of it.”

  “The kid hangs around me all day and night.”

  “I realize that, but she was probably so excited about the rabbit… kids are like that, Cy. Believe me. I’m talking from experience.”

  “Um,” he said, but Eddie could see that there wasn’t the slightest agreement in Cy’s face.

  “Nobody around here’s got kids this small on the loose, do they? I mean, the Cooper kids are …”

  “Too big, for sure. Those prints are Gina’s size and she’s just a little more’n four.”

  “That’s why she came to mind first,” Eddie said. Cy nodded.

  “Too bad the rabbit can’t talk,” he said. He sighed deeply. “I’d invite you up, but Hilda would know I called you and she’d …”

  “No, no. I got to get home. Tell you what,” Eddie said, seeing the old man was still quite perturbed, “I’ll stop by in the morning some time and talk to Gina myself. Sometimes kids tell things faster to other people, especially cops. I stopped over and talked to the O’Neil kid and was able to get him calmed down some.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t shake him from this story he had about this little creature, this …” He paused and looked down at one of the prints.

  “What’s that?”

  “Huh? Oh, nothing really. My idea OK with you?”

  “Fine, fine. Thanks. Appreciate your efforts.”

  “No problem,” Eddie said, as he pulled his hood up again. “See you tomorrow,” he added and went to the door. Cy came up behind him and waited until he went out. Eddie heard him snap the locks closed as soon as the door was shut.

  He paused on the cement stairway and looked into the inky darkness. If the chief could tap in on his thoughts now, he mused, he’d have him put away, if he didn’t fire him outright. His whole family had gone to see E.T. It was like a national event, for Chrissakes. Now he tried to conjure up the memory of that little creature. Cy was so sure of himself about those prints not being Gina’s. Billy was so definite about his story, positive that it wasn’t a raccoon.

  Something stirred in the darkness to the right. He peered into it as hard as he could, but it was too dark to make out anything. He should have grabbed his flashlight before running from the car to the house, but he didn’t want to go parading around here now, anyway. He’d just frighten Hilda. Late morning was time enough. It would have to be.

  He ran back to the car and headed away. Damn, he thought. Most of the year I ride over this road as nonchalantly as possible, and now it’s become a street of mystery. Remembering the blind spot in the road, he took his time and then hurried on through the darkness and the rain.

  Mary undid the lock on the basement door and opened it, her fingers moving mechanically, her every motion slow and deliberate. She flicked on the cellar lights and waited, but she heard no scurrying, no rush for safety; so she began her descent. About halfway down, just as before, she detected the scents of different but familiar things. She had forgotten about that, but now it came back to her.

  When she made the turn at the bottom of the stairway, she reached into her housecoat pocket and pulled out the flashlight. She could see that his box was empty and she expected he was hiding. He had to be. She began to walk toward the box and then stopped, because of the sound coming from her right.

  Slowly, she turned toward it, bringing the beam of the flashlight up from the floor to the wall. When she saw it, she gasped and pressed her left hand against her mouth. She bit down on her fingers and stared ahead, keeping the light on the gaping hole in the fieldstone wall. Through it she could make out part of the lawn; she could hear the rain, and she could even see drops in the air.

  “Devil,” she whispered and walked to the wall, where she examined the opening and found the pile of rocks on the floor. She peered through the hole, shining her light about to see if she could catch sight of him out there. But there was no sign of any movement.

  The first thing she thought was that it wasn’t her fault. How could she have anticipated this? This fieldstone wall had stood for decades. Sure, stones could become loose, but to pull them out so neatly and create this opening … how long had he been doing it? She had never seen this any other time, but the odors … they were the scents of things from the outside. He must have put the rocks back after each escape and each return. How conniving and deceiving.

  For Mary, this reinforced everything she believed. He was a thing of evil, endowed with a sly, wicked intelligence. She was glad now that she had kept Faith away from him. She was only sorry that she hadn’t chained him to the wall. This was the result of being too merciful. Hadn’t she often had nightmares about him, seeing him come upstairs, oozing through doors, twisting and turning his distorted body, until he was in her bedroom, threatening to touch her … to touch her like Uncle Billy touched her mother. She always awoke in a sweat when that
happened.

  She peered out of the hole again. Should she put the rocks back and shut him out there? Where had he gone? What was he doing? Faith said something about his hurting the O’Neil boy. Did others know about him? Was that why the policeman came to her to talk about stolen rabbits? No, there would be a bigger uproar if others had seen him. There had to be.

  She decided to leave the hole as it was, so that he could come back into the basement. And when he did, she would chain him to the wall. She would put a collar and a leash on him, just like the collar and the leash that was on that rabbit in the policeman’s arms. First, she’d beat him, though. That was important.

  It was getting later and later, and with the rain coming down as hard as it was, he’d have to come back soon, she thought. She went back up the stairs and flicked off the basement light. Then she returned to the darkness and took a position in the corner across from the opening in the wall. She would let him get back in and put the rocks in place again. Then she would grab him.

  It truly amazed her how intelligent he was. She had never considered him anything but a contaminated, distorted little creature. She didn’t think of him as a baby or a child; she called him “Imp,” because in her mind he was a little thing of evil, ugly and malformed like some aborted fetus that came to life. She refused to see anything of herself in him. Often, during the pregnancy, when she felt him move within her, she prayed for his death. She thought of him as something parasitical, draining her goodness, sucking her soul. All she could do was trust in God and be prepared for the tasks that had to be done.

  She recalled the terrible agony of the delivery, how she had spent hours and hours of labor down here in the dark. She remembered squatting like a peasant in the field to drop him, and she never forgot the piercing scream that came from the deepest part of her soul when she realized he was alive, squirming below her, demanding her attention, calling on her almost immediately, and forcing her to face the reality of his existence.

  Waiting now in the darkness, she had feelings similar to those she had had that terrible night. He was going to appear in that hole, coming in from the darkness. Did he meet with the Devil, his father, out there? How dare he escape from where she had kept him? How dare he be born?