The Dead House

by Dawn Kurtagich

  We went into the Empty House.

  It was very strange, Dee. So different from the first time. The house was solid and real, cold and empty. I could feel them all walking around inside it—inside me. Was this how it was supposed to be the first time? Did Haji do something that Naida failed to do? When Scott and Ari entered a room, it was a memory, and I felt them there too.

  I am twelve. A letter sits on Carly’s table in front of me.

  Happy birthday, Kaitie. We are twelve today! One day I’m going to give you a big hug, and we’ll walk in the sunlight together. I love you. Xoxo

  Ari and Scott read the letter too.

  When Brett and John enter a room, I feel them there.

  I am fifteen. I am looking at the Viking dancing with a girl in a raven mask, and I am angry that she gets to touch him and kiss him, and I am angry it isn’t me instead. I thought maybe I was special. The girl in his nighttime world, like he is the boy in mine, but he has plenty of girls. Any developing idea of romance I have is murdered then and there. After that, the walls come down. I remember the words he’d spoken to me only moments before—I won’t hurt you. And you won’t hurt me. We’ll do it by being totally honest with each other. We’ll never lie or hide or deceive. Not like them. It’ll be our pact. I wonder if this is his honesty.

  And I see John watching, the John now in the Dead Room of this memory, and I feel him blanch as he realizes what he’s looking at. I see Brett scowl and wander through the crowd, nothing but a wisp.

  I feel them plodding all over my memories. They linger, like a scent. And it’s as if they’ve always been with me.

  And the house

  Is

  Still

  Empty.

  Basement footage coinciding with events shortly after the ritual with Haji has never been found.

  Torn-Out Page from the Diary of Carly Luanne Johnson

  Undated

  I know Kaitie has spoken to him a few times at night, because she told me. She didn’t give an opinion, just mentioned it like she’d mention a passing rain cloud. Completely without opinion or judgment. And if I were to tell her how I’m feeling, she might overreact and do something.

  I saw him at lunch today, just staring at me. I was so uncomfortable that, even though I resolved to eat at least half of the sandwich, I couldn’t touch it. When Kaitie asks me why, what can I say? Brett was watching me, and it made my skin crawl? Yeah, right.

  I can’t tell Naida either, because Scott is Brett’s friend, and it would be weird to admit that Brett makes me feel—

  I’ve seen him following me between classes too. Yesterday after English, he followed me for ages. I had to duck into the girls’ bathroom to avoid him, and I was late for Religious Education, but I didn’t mind so much because he was gone when I came out. I wish I was brave enough to tell him to go away. Why does he watch me like this?

  Naida Camera Footage

  Friday, 28 January 2005, 5:51 AM

  Basement

  The camera has already been on for some minutes before Haji enters. Kaitlyn, tossing and turning in her sleep and moaning deep in her throat, sits up violently as he descends the stairs.

  “Who’s there?” Kaitlyn whispers.

  “Haji. Are you alone?”

  Kaitlyn exhales and the sheets ruffle. “What are you doing here? You scared me.”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes, why?”

  He comes closer, stands by the edge of the bed. “I wanted to talk to you without the others. There is something you should know. Something I felt.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “The Shyan.”

  “What about it?”

  “I felt him there with us, in your mind.”

  “I told you that something was in here, with me—”

  “No—I mean… I felt him when we were thrust out of there. I felt him in the room with us. Kaitlyn… the Shyan was in the room.”

  Kaitlyn doesn’t move.

  “Do you understand what I’m telling you? The Shyan is one of us. One of your friends.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You must be wary. Trust no one. He has been close to you all this time, watching. Trust none of them, Kaitlyn. You cannot be sure who is working against you from within your ranks.”

  He sighs and then moves towards the stairway.

  “Keep the door to the larger section of the basement locked, if you haven’t been doing so already. Be vigilant. We will talk again, in daylight. Say nothing in front of the others. Good night.”

  Kaitlyn’s form seems frozen, but she is hidden in the deepest gloomy recess of the room and we can’t see what emotions might be playing across her face. She has not moved by the time the motion-activated camera clicks off.

  95

  5 days until the incident

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Friday, 28 January 2005, 6:00 am

  Roof

  One of my friends. One of them is lying to me. Oh, my God. What do I do? Which one could do this to me? I can’t believe this. I can’t process.

  One of my friends.

  I was so stunned by what Haji said that I almost forgot about my dream. Carly was in it. She was standing very still, watching me, and she was in flames. Her eyes wanted to tell me a whole story, but she couldn’t—that much I could see. She lifted her hand slowly and first pointed at me, then to something off to her right.

  It was the snake—she was pointing at the snake, and he was writhing in flames too, an inhuman scream piercing the whiteness of the dream. Then I faded backwards, as though something was dragging me far away, and the whole scene suddenly cleared. Both Carly and the snake stood before the Dead House—itself, too, a conflagration of flames. Not the silent, dancing kind on Carly, but a yowling, monstrous beast, hungry for more. It bent and curved, cracked and spat, and the Dead House blackened and submitted beneath it. Not only that… but the Dead House had begun to crumble into the Dead Sea.

  Now, here, where things were once so clear and easy to grasp, I look down over the grounds, and I can feel the school. I feel it, Dee, as though, subtly, it has become the Dead House. I almost expect it to move and change beneath me, glide like a serpent into some other form. Then maybe if I close my eyes, I will suddenly be back in the basement, a voice will be telling me you’re mine, and I will happily submit to my eternal encasement.

  10:00 am

  Been reading C’s diary while the others are in class. Found this:

  I don’t know Brett. I don’t recognize him. Not at all. There’s something wrong with him. Deeply wrong. The way he looks at me, I feel like I’m fading away. I wish he would stop. I don’t want to be near him.

  What does this mean? Brett?

  Brett.

  96

  Naida Camera Footage

  Friday, 28 January 2005, 11:17 PM

  Basement

  The camera clicks on as Kaitlyn jerks on the mattress, night-vision painting the picture green and white. At that moment, we see that John stands in the doorway, silently watching her. It is uncertain how long he has been there.

  Still asleep, Kaitlyn groans, turns her head towards the door, and starts to pant. “Have to,” she murmurs. “Have to…”

  John continues to watch, until one violent start wakes her and she begins to cry. He hesitates, then hurries to her side, and she allows herself to be taken into his embrace.

  “I wish you would stop this,” he whispers.

  She sniffs. “What?”

  “You know what, Kaitie.”

  She pulls back, looks up at him. “I’m fine.”

  “We’re worried.”

  “Who’re we?”

  “That Brett guy. He came to ask me to talk to you. Get you to leave this Mala-Grúndi stuff alone.”

  “Brett doesn’t know anything. He’s an idiot.”

  “At least he seems to give a shit about you. You need to stay away from this, Kait. Seriously, stop it. Before something bad happens to you as
well.”

  Kaitlyn pushes him away, but cries out as her arms make impact. “I have to,” she breathes, “have to save my sister. You don’t know—you never met her. But she’s the better me. You’d like her, you would. I need her, John.” She shakes her head. “I need her.”

  “Let her go. Please… I’m begging you. This thing—it’s bigger than us. You could get someone killed. You could be killed. Is she worth that?”

  “Yes!” Her eyes narrow as she regards him. “You’re just assuming things will go wrong. But they won’t. They can’t. Trust me.”

  “They’ve already gone wrong. Your friend Naida? I’ve never seen anything like that. I think…” His voice trails off, and he looks down at his hands.

  Kaitlyn folds her arms over her chest. The gesture comes off as more vulnerable than defiant. “You think what?”

  He meets her gaze. “I think you need to contact Dr. Lansing.”

  There’s a beat of silence before Kaitlyn whispers, “What?”

  “I’m thinking of calling her.”

  She’s on her feet in a moment, her hands balled into fists at her side. “Get away from me.”

  “Stop this.”

  “Judas,” she spits. “Fuck you! Go back to Lansing? Have them lock me up like a dog?”

  “I thought you were… I don’t know. Better.”

  “Not this again! You told me that I didn’t belong there!”

  John gets to his feet too, tries to reach for Kaitlyn.

  “You—you,” she yells, “you think I’m crazy!”

  “Kaitlyn, I don’t think you’re crazy. But you need… something. I don’t know what. I… this is dangerous for you. You need to leave Carly where she is”—he raises his hands—“and claim your life.”

  “No—”

  “Listen—”

  “I’m nothing without her!”

  “Listen!”

  “I can’t survive—she’s the best part! I’m nothing on my own—”

  “Kaitlyn, stop!”

  “You can’t take her away—”

  “What about your parents, Kait?”

  A ringing silence follows his exclamation, and the dripping water in the distance—drip, drip, drip—seems suddenly louder.

  “What… what do you mean?”

  John frowns. “The accident? What you told me that night?”

  Kaitlyn shakes her head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything that happened.”

  “I was there. I was there that night. You told me to come over. We were going to the orchestra, remember? Your dad was playing. You wanted your parents to meet me. Does any of this ring a bell?”

  She shakes her head again.

  “We were in the car, and you and your dad started arguing. You were sitting up front so your mum could hold your dad’s trombone case and keep an eye on Jaime, who was sitting on the other side of her. She kept trying to get you to stop yelling, and I guess he was distracted… We crashed.”

  “It was a car crash?”

  “Your dad was thrown out, and I broke a fair few ribs and my collarbone. That trombone case saved me. Remember that accident and the reason I lost track of you?”

  “You said an accident… I didn’t know it was the accident that…”

  “Yeah. Your mum… she got the brunt of the impact. She was in the middle. There was never any chance she’d survive that.”

  Kaitlyn swallows. “What did I tell you? You said I told you something that night.”

  John hesitates. “Kaitie, please—”

  “Tell me, John, so help me God!”

  “You’re too fragile for this.”

  “Talk about a volte-face. What happened to ‘you’re strong,’ huh? What happened to our pact—always honesty? You liar!” Kaitlyn’s voice breaks, but she keeps yelling in a broken half voice. “You’re like everyone else—you traitor, get away from me!” She tries to shove him, but he is like a big wall in front of her. She laughs, once. “I’m an idiot! I needed you, but I am crazy, after all, for ever trusting you—”

  John grabs her, and she pushes away and spins as though to run out the door—but he has her upper arms, and she simply bounces back against his chest. He closes his arms around her, pinning her to him.

  “Geddoffme!” she screams, trying to break free. “Let me go!”

  “Shh, calm down. It’s okay—shh, Kaitie, shh!”

  Sobbing, she kicks his shin, and John stumbles back a pace but keeps hold of her.

  With one violent yank, he yells, “Kaitie, stop! You told me—you told me you were glad. You said that right to my face, while they were scraping your dad off the road!”

  Kaitlyn stills, but continues to sob garbled words that fall from her lips like drool—among them “liar” and “not true” and “you promised.” Eventually she settles into a kind of half slump in his arms. He maneuvers her to the mattress.

  “I’m sorry,” John says, stroking her hair. “I think you need help.”

  “I need Carly. I need her. If it’s true… if I really said that I was glad they were dead… then she’s the better one. The best Johnson girl, and she can come back and have this life, and I can disappear. I need this, can’t you understand?”

  John doesn’t answer. Instead, he deflects. “Don’t you remember being covered in blood?”

  Blood on my hands. There was blood on my hands. [Diary extract: Sunday, 7 November 2004, 7:00 PM]

  “No.”

  “You got out of the car that night… you stumbled over to where your dad was lying on the road, and you knelt beside him… there was so much of his blood on the road already. You said something to him, and he reached out for you, but you just got up, covered in all that red… and stumbled away.”

  “I was probably in shock or something.”

  “Except, when the paramedics had me in the ambulance, you told me. You told me it was the best night of your life. You were so… happy.”

  “Please, just… get away from me.”

  “Kaitlyn, please…”

  She retches, then coughs. “You said you would never hurt me. You promised.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Traitor.”

  “I don’t want to, but I will if I have to. Because I need to help you. You’re sick.”

  Kaitlyn pauses, and then slowly lifts her eyes to stare at him for a full five seconds before they widen in alarm. “You…”

  “What? What is it?”

  “John… please, just leave me alone.”

  “DH—” This time when he grabs her, it is her left forearm, the wounds covered by her long sleeves.

  She screams.

  “What?”

  Hunched over, she manages to whisper, “Leave me alone! I want to be alone.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’ll be by in the morning. Please don’t do anything stupid.”

  He leaves, at which point Kaitlyn reaches for her journal with shaking fingers.

  [END OF CLIP]

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Friday, 28 January 2005

  Basement

  You bitch. You’ve always known, haven’t you?

  I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!!!

  Later

  I never wanted them dead! What kind of a sick monster would want her own parents to DIE? It’s impossible! How could I ever—

  It’s a lie! Do you understand me? There’s an explanation for this—I don’t want it to be true! It would break me anew if he… if John…

  How can I be sure?

  …

  No. No, I won’t bring her into this.

  NO!

  Yes, I know that. But she’s too young. She won’t remember.

  I won’t do that to my sister!

  Just leave it alone, Dee! Jaime is safe from you! Safe from me!

  Leave me alone.

  Later

  I know you mean well. But I’m doing this. I need to be sure, I can’t just… I can’t just trust. I must be certain.

  Yes, I forgive
you.

  Come here.

  97

  4 days until the incident

  Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

  Saturday, 29 January 2005, 8:00 pm

  Forgotten Garden, Crypt

  I couldn’t think of anywhere else to talk to Haji, so I brought him here. He just left, and I feel… I don’t know. Weird.

  “There is a token,” Haji said to me, his voice low and encompassing. “A bind. It works by reading the threshold of any dwelling where an enemy has entered. You will dream who the Shyan is after he has crossed it.”

  “I expect this will cost something.”

  He nodded. “You expect correctly. For Naida, I would give you this bind for nothing. But it requires payment of a different kind. It requires a piece of you.”

  “Do it,” Kaitlyn says without pause. “Take it. Whatever it is. I need the charm tonight.”

  I needed to be sure. It couldn’t be… but it might be. And it was killing me. I had to know. Now.

  Brett. John. Scott. Ari. Brett. John. Brett. John. Who? Why?

  “The eye does not witness its crafting.”

  “Fine.”

  “You feel him, yes?”

  There was nothing to say to that, except, “I need it tonight.”

  He made it. He did it. Here it is in my hand. I hope this works; otherwise, I want my payment back. Hahahahaha!!!

  9:30 pm

  I can’t believe I never knew. I don’t know whether to kick his teeth in or be really, really afraid. If I didn’t know this about Brett, what else might I not know? And Carly’s diary entry about him watching her… I can’t ignore that. Haji’s words keep going round and round in my head. Trust no one. He has been close to you all this time, watching. Over and over. Trust none of them, Kaitlyn.

  John. Brett. John. Brett. I don’t know who is doing this to me. One of them. Both of them. I don’t know.