Ron forced his wrist to turn again, sure that he had cleared the halfway point. “I found it on a dog,” he said. “A dead dog.”
“A dead dog’s eye? From where?”
Around him, all of the milling ghosts had stopped their shuffling. They were now facing him, watching intently, as though Ezra had put them on alert and were awaiting some command.
“The road in front of my house,” Ron replied, hoping he could keep Ezra distracted long enough to finish twisting his arm.
“An eyeball from a dead dog in front of your house. Interesting. Why would you bring such a thing down here?”
He forced his arm again, feeling it budge and shift a tiny amount. “No reason.”
“You’re lying,” Ezra said, and Ron felt the coldness against his back intensify. “That’s my eye you’re holding, isn’t it? Tell me, where did you get it?”
He felt the hands of the ghosts around him, reaching upward, their fingers clawing at the flesh of his forearm as they tried to grab the eye. He stood on his toes hoping it would keep the eye out of their reach. Distract him, Ron thought. Just a little longer, until you can get it turned completely around. “Your other half is a rotting carcass,” Ron said. “It stinks. I drove a stake through its head.”
“You did no such thing,” Ezra replied. Ron felt his backside begin to go numb from the cold. “And it wouldn’t have mattered if you had. No, you removed my eye for a reason. Tell me where they moved it to... Was it the courtyard? The gazebo? Maybe back up into the little girl’s room?”
“He fed her to you,” Ron said, still hoping to keep him distracted. “Is that how you were created? Fed the flesh of that girl?”
Ezra laughed. “Grasping at straws! No. But he made sure she was well used. He absolutely saw to that. You don’t really understand anything, do you? You’re just guessing. I suppose that’s good.”
Ron twisted again, forcing another fraction of an inch. “Coldwater is the reason you’re here, haunting this place?”
“I’m tired of your questions,” Ezra replied. “Now, answer mine before I pop your head off your body.”
Ron didn’t think the constriction around his neck could tighten any more, but it did, making it almost impossible to speak. Feeling as though he was just a single turn from completing his objective, Ron croaked out, “What happens if you see yourself?”
“See myself?” Ezra repeated. “What do you mean?”
Ron felt the resistance in his arm give way as he twisted the severed eye fully around, directly exposing its slimy surface to Ezra.
At first he was afraid it was a failure – that everything Abe had predicted had been wrong. Then, slowly, an inhuman scream arose behind him. It was low and guttural, and rose in pitch and intensity until it was deafening. The cold pulled away from his body, and the constriction around his neck loosened.
He turned around, looking behind him. Ezra was there; his features no longer expressed the confidence he’d displayed at their earlier encounter in the bedroom. Terror now filled his eyes, the same terror he had been so intent upon inflicting on others. Pieces of his figure loosened and lifted in bizarre ways, as though gravity had shifted and was acting upon him from all directions. Chunks of his form began to unravel and disappear, and he twisted with a spasm, intense pain on his face. He looked down to see long strands of himself rip out, twisting up into the air and dissolving as they blew away.
It was what he threatened to do to me, Ron thought. Annihilation.
Ron shuddered, but he brandished the eye like a trophy, making sure Ezra could see it with the last of his vision. Moments later, only thin strips of the creature still hung in the air like rope, odd lines that hadn’t fully dissolved; they shambled backward as a single form, slowly fading, erasing in front of him.
Ron felt his heart pounding in his chest. He turned; the ghosts around him had dropped their interest, lowering their arms to resume shuffling. He took several deep breaths, and after he felt his pulse drop a little, he ascended the steps and rose through the flooring, finding himself in the kitchen. A few moments more, and he settled into his body, opening his eyes. A massive headache was forming in the front of his skull.
“Well?” Jake asked.
Ron lifted the plastic container and removed the lid. The eyeball inside had deflated, as though the liquid it contained had been sucked out through a syringe. The stalk was beginning to dry out, shriveling up, retracting into the organ. “I think he’s gone,” Ron replied.
“You showed him the eye?”
“The eye saw him, yes,” Ron corrected. “I don’t think he realized exactly what I was doing. He knew something was up, and was trying to defend himself, but he didn’t seem to understand the threat. He just wanted to know where to find his other half.”
“He didn’t know where it was?”
“No. Somewhere on the Coldwater property, that’s all he knows.”
“So, he’s unraveling now, right now? While we stand here?”
Ron looked down at the strange severed organ in the plastic container. “That’s exactly how I’d describe it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Your room, kiddo,” Ron said, giving his son encouragement by pressing his back.
Robbie stepped into the room and looked around.
“I realize it doesn’t have your posters and stuff yet,” Ron said, following him in. “But we’ll get all that set up. It does have this, though.” He led the child to the window. “Look at that view.”
“There’s so many trees,” Robbie replied. “Can I have a tree house?”
“We’ll see,” Ron replied, sitting on Robbie’s bed. “Maybe after your mother’s back from Europe and we’re more settled in, we can pick out a tree for that.”
“Hooray!” the child shouted, jumping. When he landed on the floor, the thump that reverberated through the house bothered Ron; it reminded him of the thump he’d heard in the Coldwater mansion, the thump he now associated with...
He pushed the memory back in his mind. This was a special moment with his son, as he inspected his new room. He didn’t want to ruin it with those kinds of thoughts.
“A bathroom!” Robbie said, pushing open a door. “My own?”
“Now you don’t have to share one in the hallway!” Ron said, rising from the bed. “And neither do we.”
“This is very cool,” Robbie replied, pulling back a shower curtain, inspecting the tub. “I can take a shower here, too?”
“Or a bath. Either.”
“Do you know what boxes my stuff is in?”
“They’re in the garage. I figured once you got here, you could help me pick them out and we’ll move them up together.”
“OK. And the PlayStation?”
“I think that’s in a box in the TV room.”
“You haven’t unpacked it yet?” Robbie said, running out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Ron followed him. “Your old man has been busy, getting the house ready for you and your mom.”
He could hear Robbie already in the other room, going through boxes, searching. You have no idea how busy, Ron thought, walking down the stairs.
- - -
“No sign of anything?” Jake asked. Ron could tell he was slurping a beer on the other end of the line.
“No,” Ron replied, sitting on the couch. “It’s been a week, and aside from the regular creaks and groans of a house, there’s been nothing. No strange thumping, no scratching on the glass. No ghosts.”
“No sign of Ezra?”
“None.”
“So, Abe was right.”
“Must have been. Have you talked to him? Or Terrell?”
“Terrell called me to find out what was going on. I told him everything. He enjoyed the story.”
“What about Freedom? Have you told her?”
“Actually, no. To be honest, I think it would just freak her out. She’s all into positive energy and shit, and when I brought it up just after I got back, she shut me dow
n real quick. So, I haven’t told her much.”
“Just as well. Nothing she could do about it, anyway. I guess I owe Abe some thanks. Terrell, too. I suppose.”
“I don’t think Terrell expects anything. He seemed real sheepish about it all. He thinks he got everything wrong, that everything he tried to do was kind of fucked up.”
“That’s stupid,” Ron replied. “It worked, didn’t it? My house is normal. That’s all I wanted.”
“I think Terrell is embarrassed that he, himself, couldn’t do anything about it, and that it took Abe getting involved. He was even criticizing Abe, too, saying he missed a lot of things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember what all he was goin’ on about. He was talking about paying a visit, he thinks that with the Volger gone, the place is safe for…” He paused, then suddenly yelled, “No! I’m not watching that shit again, Free! No…fuck it, Free, that’s bullshit! We agreed…oh fuck off!”
Ron heard a door slam.
“Sorry about that,” Jake said, his voice back to normal. “I get so sick of the goddamn Bachelor. Between that and the Kardashians, I feel like blowing my brains out.”
“Get another TV.”
“My other one broke. We’re sharing the big one. Not good, I can tell you.”
“How about I get you a new one? Least I can do for all your help.”
“Make it a sixty incher, OK? That’ll fit perfectly in my man cave. Had a shitty little thirty-six inch piece of shit in there, that’s the one that went out, but that room definitely needs bigger. What about Elenore?”
“Extended another week. Now she’s supposed to be back next Thursday. We’ll see.”
“Well, I think given the work we put into the place, she should be pretty happy with it.”
“I think all the work is great. Her problem is the place itself. She doesn’t really like it; that’s what it comes down to.”
“Well, shit, why’d you go and buy it, then?”
“Good question.” Doesn’t matter, he thought. I love the house. Maybe I ignored what she wanted because I have this suspicion in the back of my mind that she’s been banging her boss for months.
Explosions and gunfire raged from the TV room, and Ron stuck his head into it, finding Robbie at the controls. “Ten more minutes, you’re done for today. That includes save time.”
“Aw, Dad!”
“It sounds as though he’s liking it,” Jake said.
“As far as I can tell,” Ron replied.
They talked for a few minutes more, and after they hung up, Ron wandered into the TV room to watch Robbie play before the day’s allotment of video game time ran out. He fell into a recliner next to his son, who didn’t look up; his eyes were glued to the screen.
Ron watched as Robbie expertly maneuvered a point of view character down a dark hallway. There was no music, and occasionally a creepy sound came from the surround speakers, making it seem like something was behind them.
“There’s one of them around that corner down there,” Robbie said, his voice low and quiet, as though the video game character might overhear.
“One of what?” Ron asked.
“They’re like these zombie things. But they’re different, they don’t just wander around, they pop out at you. The one down there is badass.”
Ron watched as his son slowly crept down the hallway. A gun raised up in the middle of the screen, centered on the corner at the end of the passageway, and cocked, readying for action. His son made a rush for the corner, and a huge horrific creature, bloated and oozing blood jumped out from behind the wall. Robbie shot at it, but it didn’t seem to matter; the creature came closer and dealt blows, quickly draining his son’s health.
“Maybe if I use the chainsaw,” his son said, quickly switching to a new weapon. He leaned the blade into the creature, and blood flew everywhere. The creature screamed in response.
Ron could only hear the scream of the little girl, lying on the bed, as her father sliced a thin strip of flesh from the bottom of her foot. It made him shiver all over, and he knew he needed to stop watching the horrific spectacle on the screen.
“Ten minutes is up. Save and shut it down.” He walked out, leaving Robbie to deal with the electronics.
- - -
“Do you think a house can make you paranoid?” he asked, glancing over at Robbie, who was sitting in the next room with a PS Vita, buds in his ears. He was reasonably sure his son couldn’t hear them.
“That’s a strange question,” Mrs. Hughes replied, setting a pot of tea between them and flattening the front of her dress before sitting at the kitchen table with him. “Why do you ask? Has that house made you paranoid?”
“I think it has,” Rob replied. “In Portland, Robbie was old enough to leave alone in the house for an hour while I ran an errand. It didn’t happen often, but he’d be so bored in stores, it was easier to leave him at home with his games than drag him along, and I really didn’t worry. Then we moved here, where I thought it would be much safer, I haven’t been able to let him out of my sight.”
“When I was young, our parents let us go wherever we wanted,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea. “The school bus stopped at the bottom of the hill, and we’d get out, our bikes right where we left them. Then we’d ride the bikes home, and if we stopped off at someone’s house, it was no big deal as long as we were home for supper. The only verboten place was the Coldwater property, but it was out of the way anyway, so we never went there. I don’t think we ever locked our house; I guess my parents didn’t feel the need to. Nowadays…well, you know. Helicopter parents and all. Can’t have enough locks. Your wife joining you soon?”
Rob hesitated before answering, then said, “Not sure.”
Her hand extended, landing on his. Her skin was surprisingly warm; Ron thought it might be from holding the mug of tea. “I’m sorry, none of my business.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” Ron replied. “God knows you shared a ton with me.” He smiled at her. “I’m not sure she’ll ever come to the house. I think she’s close to bailing on me, on Robbie, on all of it.”
“Surely not!”
“A thousand dollars, she’s having an affair with her boss.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hughes replied. “Any chance that’s just wild paranoia, too?”
“Maybe. I’d hate to be naïve. All the signs are there. I think the house was the final straw for her, something she could seize on and use. She never saw in it what I saw.”
“What did you see, exactly?”
Ron paused for a moment. “Hard to put into words. You know when you first see something, and you know you love it, right then and there, and feel like you’d be willing to put up with anything to have it in your life, even if you have to put up with a ton of shit? Pardon my language.”
“You sound like you’re talking about a person, not a house.”
Ron paused. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He reached into his satchel and removed the book, sliding it across the table to her. “Thank you for that. Helped save the day. I doubt Abe would have figured things out without it.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I don’t suppose he had anything more to say when you picked it up?”
“I didn’t see him, actually. Terrell shipped it back. I suspect he made copies, though. Hope that’s alright.”
“Perfectly fine with me.” She took another sip. “I’ll be honest with you, I found your story about Candace very disturbing. It still bothers me.”
“Trust me, I found it disturbing myself. It’s the kind of thing you can’t un-see, as much as I’d like to.”
“And the man that did that horrible thing to her, can you describe him to me?”
“Thick,” Ron answered, “stout. About six feet tall. Lots of wrinkles, had a mustache.”
“Sounds like him,” she replied.
“Mr. Coldwater?”
“Yes.” She seemed to be mulling something over, u
nsure what to say next. “I guess I…” she started, but then stopped.
“What?”
“No, it’s nothing. Your house is livable now, that’s what matters.” Her hand reached out again, patting his. “More tea?”
“Sure. You can tell me, though. What were you going to say?”
“You’re already paranoid enough,” she replied slyly. “No sense in fostering that.”
“Now you’ve done it. That’ll make me wonder what you meant, and I’ll assume the worst. Do me a favor and just tell me, so it doesn’t fester.”
“Well, I guess I still wonder why. Why did he do that? What a horrible thing to do to any child, let alone your own child. It’s unfathomable.”
“There’s lots of sickos in the world,” Ron replied. “That’s why all the locks, remember?”
“Maybe,” she said, nodding a little. “Maybe that was it, he was just sick.”
“You don’t think it was.”
“I’ve been living with the terrible things that happened between our two families for many decades now, so I have a wider view of it than you do. There’s still so…” She paused.
He could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes, and for a brief moment it made him step back and try to examine everything from her perspective. It didn’t take him long to realize it wasn’t something he wanted to do.
“I appreciate your help,” he said. “You didn’t have to share what you knew with me, and if you hadn’t, I’d still be knee-deep in problems. But…” He paused again, looking down at his mug of tea, watching the steam. “This thing between your families…it isn’t my fight. I just wanted my house back. I needed to have a home, a place for my family, something livable and stable. I couldn’t bring Robbie into a house filled with threats, and with your help, all that’s gone. It’s stable now. That’s all I wanted. I don’t want to get wrapped up in something else, something beyond me. I hope you understand.”
“You’re right, of course,” she said, rising from the table and lifting the book. She marched it over to a bookcase and slid it into a spot on the top shelf. “It’s best that this whole Coldwater trouble just sink into the past, where it belongs, and not stir things up. God knows it’s been nothing but heartache for me, for my parents, for their parents.” She returned to the table and sat. “Sometimes things need to rest.”
The Coldwater Haunting Page 32
