Darker Than Night

by Goingback, Owl

  Nor had a paint gun been used. During her college days in New York City she had supported herself by using various air guns to paint murals on tire covers, mailboxes, and the gas tanks of motorcycles. She had gotten quite good at it, working in the evenings and on weekends. Had a paint gun been used to create the faces on the kitchen floor she would have known.

  Not with a brush, air gun, charcoal, pen and ink, pencil, or even crayon. Then how had the mysterious faces been created? She was completely baffled.

  Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, she stood up and crossed the room. Opening one of the cabinet drawers, she removed a butter knife. Returning to the center of the room, she knelt again on the floor and slowly scraped the blade of the knife over one of the faces in an attempt to remove it. The wax finish came off easily, but the ebony face remained.

  It's under the wax.

  She leaned back, staring at the image in awe. The faces couldn't have been painted by anyone sneaking into the house last night, because they were under the wax. Not unless someone had painted the faces and then poured a fresh coat of wax over them. But that was impossible, because the wax would not have hardened in time before the faces were discovered.

  Just to be sure, she set the knife aside and then leaned forward until her face almost touched the tiles, sighting along the kitchen floor. From that angle, with the overhead lights shining off the tiles, she would have been able to tell if additional wax had been poured over the area where the faces were drawn. The new wax would have been shinier, perhaps even noticeably thicker than the wax that covered the rest of the tiles. But she could detect no difference, none at all. The wax covering the floor looked the same all over.

  "I just don't get it," she said, straightening back up into a sitting position.

  Despite what the sheriff had suggested, or what she and Mike had previously suspected, the faces could not have been painted or drawn by someone sneaking into the house. Nor were they the result of a busted water pipe, mold, mildew, or the product of faulty tiles or workmanship. So what did that leave? What could have made them?

  The supernatural.

  She almost laughed out loud. Like Mike, she too was a skeptic when it came to things unexplainable. She did not believe in ghosts, UFOs, voodoo, witchcraft, or other such nonsense. Nor had she ever been a fan of shows such as Sightings, Millennium, or The X-Files. Never once had she the urge to pick up a tabloid newspaper to read about alien abductions, psychic predictions, or the ghost of Elvis.

  Her parents, on the other hand, believed in the supernatural, especially her mother. Despite being a devout Baptist, her mother believed ghosts were quite real, claiming to have seen a couple of them during her lifetime. She also believed the devil could possess a person's body, swearing that The Exorcist was based on actual events.

  A few days after watching The Exorcist together, Holly had played a prank on her mother by popping a couple of Alka-Selzer into her mouth, just enough to foam like a mad dog, and then flopping around on her bed while shouting the names of the demons she had heard mentioned in the film. Her mother had not been amused.

  Holly smiled, remembering the prank she had played. Her mother believed in the supernatural, even though there were no scientific facts to support it. Looking back down at the floor, her smile faded.

  Here before her, in her own home, was something that could not be rationally explained by science, something beyond the realm of normal occurrences. The faces that kept mysteriously appearing on the yellow tiles of their kitchen floor were definitely not normal. Not normal at all.

  Putting the butter knife back in the drawer, she left the kitchen and entered the library. Broken shards of light bulb still lay on the carpeting, but she made no move to pick them up. The shattered pieces were a reminder that something had scared Megan half out of her wits last night, even caused her to hurt herself, and Holly was not ready to dismiss it by cleaning p the mess. Looking at the pieces, she wondered if the sheriff was right. Could a raccoon have gotten into the house and removed the light bulb from the lamp?

  It only took a moment of logical scrutiny to dismiss the sheriff's theory as ludicrous. The lamp was tall and slender, the bulb covered by a large shade. Not only could the bulb not be reached easily, the lamp would have tipped over had a raccoon attempted to climb it.

  Nor had any of the doors or windows been left open last night, so there was absolutely no way an animal could have gotten inside, even an animal as smart as a raccoon.

  If it wasn't a raccoon, then it must have been a person. Someone had come into the library, probably while they were sleeping, and removed the bulb and shattered it. But why? Why take the bulb out and break it when it would have been easier to just unplug the lamp?

  Turning away from the lamp, she allowed her gaze to travel along the shelf high on the wall. In addition to breaking the light bulb, the intruder had also turned each and every one of the kachina dolls around to face the wall. Again, why? Why take time to turn the statues around? Was it all part of some elaborate joke? If so, who was the joker?

  Megan.

  She shook her head. Her daughter could have been the one who removed the bulb from the lamp, could have been responsible for turning the kachina statues around backwards, but she could not possibly have put those faces on the kitchen floor. No way. No how. Someone else was the culprit, but she had no idea who, or why they were doing it.

  Holly thought about turning the kachinas back around to face the room, but decided against it. The truth was she liked the tiny wooden figures better with their backs to her. When they were turned around the right way, it always felt as if they were staring at her. Hundreds of tiny eyes, painted or drawn, or created from shells or tiny stones. It was enough to give her the creeps.

  "Well, I know of one way to keep this joke from happening again."

  Instead of turning the statues back around, she grabbed the stepladder from where it stood in the art studio, and a couple of empty cardboard boxes, and began packing the kachina statues away. Each and every one of them. Now let someone try to play a prank on her and her family. She would see who got the last laugh.

  The kachinas in the library filled three boxes, and two more boxes were used to pack away the statues in the living room. She taped the boxes closed and carried them one at a time into the basement, stacking them against the wall beneath the row of windows. After all of the kachinas had been removed from the library and living room, she carried an empty box downstairs and packed away the statues lining the shelf in the basement. She had just packed away the last figure when Tommy entered the house at a dead run.

  "Mom! Mom!" he yelled, racing down the hallway.

  Alarmed, Holly hurried up the basement stairs and into the kitchen. She caught up with her son halfway down the hallway.

  "Tommy, what is it? What's wrong?"

  Tommy stopped and turned around. His chest heaved and his eyes were wide with fright. "I was in the woods and something started chasing me. I don't know what it was, Mom, but it chased after me. I had to run all the way..."

  "Whoa. Hold on a minute, mister." Bending over, she took him by the shoulders and held him at arm's length. "What do you mean you were in the woods."

  Tommy stopped speaking and swallowed hard, suddenly realizing he was in trouble. "I was looking for Pinky. I know I'm not supposed to go in the woods by myself, but I'm worried about him, Mom. He might be hurt, or sick, maybe even dying."

  The boy's eyes clouded over with tears, and she knew this was not a good time to give him a scolding. "All right, we'll talk about that later. Right now I want to know what scared you. You said something was chasing you; what was it?"

  "I don't know," he answered, tossing a glance behind him. "I couldn't see them."

  Holly let out a silent sigh of relief. "It was probably just a rabbit moving through the underbrush. The can sound awfully loud."

  He shook his head. "It wasn't a rabbit, Mom. I know what a rabbit sounds like, and they didn't sound li
ke rabbits. They made a funny noise, like a whole bunch of people whispering all at once. They didn't look like rabbit's either."

  Holly was confused. "Tommy, you just said you didn't see what was chasing you."

  "I didn't see them. Not really. I stopped in the orchard to see what it was, but there was nothing there. Just shadows."

  "Shadows?"

  He nodded. "Two of them. I saw them come out of the forest and run behind one of the apple trees. They were just shadows. Honest. I thought it was a rabbit too, but it wasn't. I waited and saw them. They were just shadows, and they were chasing me."

  Holly started to explain to her son that all shadows belonged to something, but she stopped cold remembering what had happened to Megan the previous evening. Her daughter said a shadow had chased her down the hallway. Not an animal, or even a person. Just a shadow, and nothing more.

  "How big were these shadows?" she asked.

  Tommy shrugged. "Not very big. Not really." He brought his hands up to chest level and held them apart about twelve inches. "About like that. Maybe bigger. I guess they were a little smaller than Pinky. I couldn't see them very well."

  "Did they look like Pinky?"

  He shook his head. "They didn't look like a cat, or a dog. They looked like..." He fumbled for the right words. "They looked sort of like people shadows, only they were shaped wrong. All squished together. And they were fast. Real fast."

  "Tommy, where did you see these shadows last?"

  "They were in the orchard, hiding behind one of the apple trees."

  "Okay, you wait here. Get yourself a drink. Wash your face. I'll go have a look out back. You stay inside now. Understand?"

  Tommy nodded and wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

  Holly left her son standing in the hallway and entered the kitchen. Crossing the room, she opened the back door and stepped outside. The sun was shining brightly, with only a few patchy clouds dotting the sky. She wondered if one of the clouds had drifted in front of the sun, creating the shadows Tommy had been so afraid of.

  But Tommy had said the shadows chased him, and they had made a noise while in the woods. A whispering sound. A shadow caused by a passing cloud certainly couldn't do that.

  Closing the door behind her, she crossed the backyard and entered the orchard. As she walked between the rows of fruit trees, she focused her attention on the patches of shadows near the base of the trees, places where a small animal or two might hide during the daytime. She was quite certain what her son had mistaken for squishy people shadows was in fact nothing more than a forest dweller of some kind. To a boy who had been raised in a city, a close encounter with an otter, groundhog, or even a muskrat could be a rather frightening experience.

  As far as she knew, there were no dangerous animals in the surrounding forest. All of the bears and wolves had been driven from the area long before the house she now lived in was even built. She doubted if there were any foxes left either, although she wasn't all sure that a fox would be dangerous. Except for a stray dog, she couldn’t think of any woodland creature that might possibly give chase to her son, not unless it was rabid.

  Holly stopped dead in her tracks. Raccoons, otters, and other small animals were normally timid. They would have turned and run from Tommy, unless they were infected with rabies. A rabid animal didn't act like it was supposed to act. It was bold, even in the daytime, often bravely approaching humans. It was also downright dangerous. The bite of a rabid animal could easily infect a human with rabies, a deadly disease. Had Tommy been bitten by such an animal, there would have been a series of extremely painful shots, administered in the stomach; even then he could have died.

  She looked around, nervously. Suddenly the orchard didn't look so safe. The trees and shadows they cast offered dozens of places where a rabid animal could be hiding. Even a medium-sized raccoon could become a dangerous opponent when maddened by rabies, especially to an unarmed woman.

  Glancing down, she suddenly realized how little the clothes she wore offered in the way of protection. Lightweight cotton shorts, a T-shirt, and slip-on shoes did not provide much defense if she should encounter a rabid animal. Nor did she have a weapon, not even a fingernail file.

  As she looked down at her ill-suited apparel, Holly caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. Two rows over from where she stood something had darted from one apple tree to the next. The movement had been swift and as fluid as water.

  Startled, she turned in the direction of the movement, trying to see what it was that had darted into the shadows beneath the apple tree. Though she had only a brief glimpse, she suddenly had the distinct impression that whatever she had seen was now hiding behind the base of the tree. Watching her.

  A chill swept over her, causing her arms to break out in goose bumps. Something was watching her, watching and waiting for her to look away again so it...

  "So it could what?

  So it can get closer to me.

  Holly stepped back and looked around for a weapon — a rock, a stick — something she could use to ward off an attack by a rabid animal. Though she had seen nothing more than a quick blur of movement, she was now quite certain that an animal so some kind lurked in the shadows beneath the apple tree. That particular apple tree was only about fifty yards away, not a great distance if the animal could move fast.

  Unfortunately there were no weapons to be had in the orchard, nothing that could be swung or thrown. Nothing but apples. Keeping her gaze locked on the apple tree two rows over, she took a few steps backward and then squatted down to pick up a couple of apples that had fallen to the ground from the tree closest to her. They weren't much of a weapon, true, but a few well-thrown apples might deter the charge of a rabid raccoon or groundhog.

  Holding two apples in her left hand, and another one in her right, she slowly walked forward. She wanted to get around to the other side of the apple tree to see if there really was something hiding there in the shadows. She moved past the first row of trees and approached the second. The tree where the mysterious animal had disappeared was only four trees away. Still she could see nothing. Whatever she had caught a glimpse of must be lying flush with the ground, as Pinky had often lain when stalking something.

  Stalking? Was she being stalked? If so, then three puny apples might not be much of a defense. She wondered if there were any bobcats in Missouri. There probably were, but she didn't think that what she had seen was as big as a bobcat. Of course she had never seen any bobcats in real life.

  The apple tree was less than ten yards away now. Only thirty feet separated her from what might prove to be a rabid animal. Holly stopped, considering the situation.

  If what she had seen was rabid, then why was it hiding in the shadows? Rabid animals did not normally fear humans.

  She let out a sigh of relief. Whatever form of animal lurked beneath the tree might not be rabid, and it was probably more scared of her than she was of it. Holly opened her left hand and let two of the apples tumble to the ground, keeping only the one she held in her right hand. She felt foolish for allowing her fear to get the best of her. No doubt Mike would openly laugh at her when she told him what had happened. What hope did she have of becoming a country girl if she let the slightest movement spook her?

  She had just taken another step toward the tree when she heard a strange hissing noise coming from behind her. The noise reminded her of the sounds made by certain reptiles. It also sounded like someone talking rapidly in a very low whisper.

  Spinning around, she saw a second shadow slip beneath the tree directly behind her. Not a rabid raccoon, dog, or even a groundhog. Just a shadow, almost invisible to the eye. A small patch of smoky grayness and nothing more.

  The movement was so fast she only caught a glimpse of it, but there was no doubt about what she had seen. The shadow flowed like water across the open ground, its movement totally alien to anything she had seen before. It was like the shadow of a speeding car when viewed form inside that car, all twists an
d turns as it flashed across the ground.

  A second hissing, whispering sound suddenly erupted from behind her. Holly turned, realizing that she had turned her back on the first shadow she had seen. That shadow had moved from its hiding place beneath the apple tree and was halfway to Holly when she turned. It was nothing more than a patch of darkness on the ground, a darkness that moved under its own power.

  "No you don't!" Holly yelled, throwing the apple she held in her right hand. The apple struck the ground just in front of the shadow, causing it to veer off to the left. In the blink of an eye it was two rows over and moving away from her. She watched it disappear beneath one of the apple trees in that row.

  Hardly believing what she had seen, she grabbed the other two apples off the ground and threw them at the tree closest to her. The first apple missed completely. The second struck the base of the tree with a thud. As the second apple hit the tree, another shadow shot out of the darkness and raced away from her.

  There are two of them. Two of what? What in the hell are they?

  Neither of the shadows ran very far. Instead they slipped into the darkness beneath one of the apple trees, disappearing from sight. From where she stood Holly could not see either of them, but she knew they were there. Watching her. Waiting.

  Still doubting that what she had seen could possibly be real, trying to come up with a logical explanation for it, she grabbed several more apples off of the ground. She expected the shadows to reappear when she turned her back to gather the apples, but they remained hidden. Nor did they show themselves when she started back to the house.

  At the back door Holly paused, wondering about what she had just witnessed. Had she actually come in contact with something that could not be explained within the normal realm? Were the shadows supernatural, or had she just imagined the whole thing?

  If what she had just witnessed did belong in the world of the supernatural, then there was someone she needed to call — a person who would listen to her story without laughing.