Other Voices, Other Tombs

by Joe Sullivan

  “I saw someone in our baby’s room,” she reiterated, trying to stay calm. “How is that not terrifying you?”

  “You saw someone who wasn’t there when you blasted into the nursery two seconds later,” Theo reminded her. “How would they have gotten out so fast? Pheebs, there’s no possible way.”

  “They were there,” she told him. “It smelled different.”

  And it had. Like moss and freshly tilled earth. Like someone had crawled out of an open grave and into their baby’s nursery.

  “Phoebe.”

  The way Theo said her name made her want to scream. It reminded her of a hostage negotiation movie—the rational confronting the deranged. Steady. Calculated.

  “Listen…”

  A flash of her mother’s face. Her rolling her eyes and exhaling a million exasperated breaths, all before Phoebe turned eighteen.

  Phoebe Louise, you know you’re being ridiculous. Stop this anxious nonsense.

  “You know what? Forget it.” She turned away from him. “Just fucking—”

  Never one to swear, she closed her eyes.

  Maybe this was all too much.

  Maybe this was postpartum…whatever. Not depression, because she was happy most of the time. But her anxiety had amped up to unreasonable levels. She was back to her childhood habit of peeking into dark rooms, of hiding beneath the sheets so that nothing could grab her feet.

  All of which relegated middle-of-the-night feedings to its own special hell. Because now, rather than being exhausted while stalking down the hallway and into the kitchen for Harrison’s three AM bottle, she was wide-eyed and terrified.

  The next night, three AM arrived same as always.

  Harrison began to fuss, and Phoebe pulled herself out of bed.

  Now, rather than being bleary-eyed and cranky as the baby wailed, demanding to be fed, Phoebe’s heart pounded inside her chest as she walked past each room of the house, wondering what she would see.

  The dining room was dark with its trendy chandelier hanging above a table they hardly used.

  Theo’s office appeared as it always did, with its humming computer and messy desk she’d given up asking him to clean.

  She moved passed Harrison’s bathroom, which was long and skinny and had the tub clear at the end of the galley-style room. A tub that she always kept the shower curtain pulled back on so there was no place for monsters to hide.

  A tub that now contained the figure of a woman standing inside it, so tall her head nearly brushed the ceiling.

  Hair billowing as if in a windstorm.

  Featureless save for what Phoebe swore was a pair of gleaming animal eyes.

  Phoebe froze mid-step, a fresh bottle of breastmilk warming her right hand.

  She stared ahead, both terrified at the figure before her and confused as to how such a person could exist in her home. Because they had new double-paned windows that had cost them a fortune to install. The front door had been fitted with a smart lock—the kind with a keypad and camera. They had a home security system directly connected to the closest police and fire stations. It was impossible for anyone to get inside without kicking down doors, breaking windows, and setting off alarms.

  I’m imagining it, she told herself. It isn’t real.

  And yet, there the woman stood, a dress of gauzy shadow swirling around her.

  That smell of earth growing stronger by the second.

  And then the figure moved, lurching toward her, a hissing sound suddenly deafening in the silence of the house.

  That was when Phoebe opened her mouth, gulped air, and screamed.

  Theo sat on the couch with his head in his hands. Of course, he didn’t believe her. And why would he? What she’d told him sounded insane, even to her.

  He had found her huddled in the hallway, Harrison’s bottle of milk on the floor, her arms shielding her head and face. She hadn’t been able to yell anything more than a few words on a broken record loop when he had finally reached her.

  “Bathroom. The bathroom. In the bathroom!”

  But when Theo flicked on the light, there was nothing in the bathroom. Just the faint smell of mold—a scent they could never pinpoint since they’d moved in years ago; one that came and went with the rain.

  “Maybe you need a break,” Theo finally suggested.

  Had it been any other night, she would have hated him for the insinuation. But her anxiety was now at full tilt. She was hearing things. Seeing things.

  He thinks if I don’t take a breath, I’ll crack. He thinks I’ll hurt Harrison.

  And part of her genuinely wondered, what if she did?

  She’s read a few articles about that, too. Mothers growing anxious and paranoid. Too many skipped meals and sleepless nights. Too many worries about health and safety. A chemical imbalance in the brain. The perfect storm set off by a sequence of unassuming events. It was called postpartum psychosis.

  The idea of leaving Harrison, even for a single evening, made her want to vomit. But maybe that’s part of it, she thought. Maybe I have to force myself…

  “Just for a day or two,” Theo said, as if able to read her mind. “I’ll book something.”

  “Book something?” Phoebe asked, unsure of what he meant. But it wasn’t as though she could simply hop in the car and drive to a family member’s house. The closest person to them was Phoebe’s older sister, and she lived over four hundred miles away.

  “Leave it to me,” Theo told her. “It’ll be nice, and it’ll be close. Relax.”

  “Relax.” Phoebe echoed Theo’s favorite word.

  When she finally crawled into bed, she was sick to her stomach at the thought of being separated from her baby. She strained to hear through the walls and bedroom door as Theo tended to Harrison down the hall. Harry wailed for a minute, then settled.

  And in that silence, Phoebe decided that it would be okay.

  Just one night. Just to get herself together. To relax, as Theo would say.

  The next morning, she had her things packed before Harrison’s first nap, but she still teared up during her goodbyes.

  “We’ll be fine,” Theo insisted, attempting his best everything-is-handled smile. “Besides, if you get really anxious, you’ve still got the app.”

  Phoebe nodded, gave Harrison a final kiss on his forehead, and got into her car.

  She checked that her phone could connect to the monitor, then glanced to the check-in information Theo had printed out for her, raising an eyebrow at the hotel he had chosen. It was fancy. Probably way out of their league. But she decided not to worry about the money for once and, pulling out of the driveway, took a deep breath and forced a smile at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

  Everything was going to be fine.

  A smiling woman named Marissa greeted her at the hotel’s front desk.

  “Missus Larkin,” she said. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

  Rather than simply being handed a room key and pointed toward the elevators, Marissa personally escorted Phoebe to her suite on the fourteenth floor. It was a gorgeous room. The plate-glass window that made up the entire back wall overlooked the city like a living photograph, and the bathroom was small but extraordinary.

  “I’ll let you settle in, but don’t get too comfortable just yet,” Marissa said. “Mister Larkin has arranged a few surprises.”

  Those surprises included the chic hotel bar for lunch followed by an in-hotel spa treatment and manicure. By the time Phoebe returned to her room it was nearly four PM.

  “You have a reservation for dinner at six,” Marissa explained with a smile. “Shall I have someone call?”

  “No, I’ll remember,” Phoebe told her. “Thanks.”

  Alone in her room, Phoebe hardly knew what to do with herself. She was at a loss for a whole ten seconds before zeroing in on the bed. As soon as she crawled onto the king-sized pillowtop mattress and hugged one of the numerous pillows to her chest, she was out. And it was blissful. Possibly the best nap of her life.r />
  But when she woke, rather than feeling rested, she felt that all-too-familiar panic well up at the back of her throat. The hotel was little more than ten miles from the house and the distance hadn’t seemed like that big a deal that morning. But suddenly, she wanted to jump in the car and speed back home. Because what if something had gone wrong? What if there had been an accident? What if Theo wasn’t coping? How had she have let Theo talk her into this stupid idea in the first place?

  On the verge of guilt-ridden tears, she snatched up her phone and launched the Governess app, then selected ‘live feed’ from the drop-down menu. The app thought for a few seconds, and for a sickening moment Phoebe was sure it wouldn’t connect. But it eventually did, pulling up a picture of Harrison’s empty crib.

  He’s not there because something happened, she thought. He and Theo are on their way to the hospital. They have to be. Why else would he not be—

  She squeezed her eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. She was being unreasonable. Harrison only slept in his crib, not played in it, and it wasn’t yet bedtime. Somewhere in the house, the baby was poised against Theo’s shoulder, or sitting in his bouncer, or kicking his feet at the toys hanging above him while lying on his play mat.

  “He’s fine,” she whispered to herself. “Everything is fine. Just enjoy this.”

  She spent a few minutes channel surfing to distract herself before going downstairs for dinner. But despite the perfection of the meal, the more time she spent away from home the less she felt in control of the pent-up scream that was threatening to claw its way up her throat.

  Because something felt off.

  Something about this whole thing felt wrong.

  She only finished half her mushroom risotto before requesting the check.

  Back in the room, she considered calling Theo to make sure everything was okay, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to come off as meddling. So, rather than dialing his number, she pulled up the app again. This time, Harrison appeared on the screen, his sleeping face the epitome of tranquility. It was seven PM. He was down for the night.

  “He’s fine.” She repeated, as if saying those words over and over would solidify the fact that yes, Theo and Harrison could get along without her, if at least for a night. “Fine.” Just her anxiety kicking in again. After all, it wasn’t as though she could simply switch that part of her brain off for the night. If it had been that easy, she wouldn’t have needed a break at all.

  Forcing herself to leave her phone on the bedside table, she drew a bath and soaked in the massive tub. She even splurged a whole five bucks on pay-per-view, choosing the latest romcom she’d otherwise never get a chance to see. But just like with dinner, she couldn’t enjoy it. Her thoughts continuously circled back to Theo and Harrison, playing out terrible scenarios in her head. Huddled amid a mountain of perfectly fluffed pillows, she kept pulling up the app to make sure the baby was still sleeping, kept staring at her screen, waiting for him to open his eyes and look up at those infrared lights above his head.

  She considered calling Theo again, but it seemed stupid. After all, she could see for herself that everything was great. But rather than closing the app the way she should have; she hit the little speaker button and plugged the phone into the wall. If Harrison started crying ten miles away, she’d hear it. It was—she was sure—the only way she’d be able to sleep.

  But there was something about the silence, something about the shadows, something about the outline of the hotel room’s closet door that kept her wide awake in the dark. She lay in that fancy bed, surrounded by lush sheets and pillows like a queen, but couldn’t take her eyes off the corner of the room that reminded her of fearful childhood nights. Staring at the closet’s door handle, she waited for it to rattle, waited for it to tip downward to the soft click of an unlocking door latch.

  Like the nursery’s closet door that she’d repeatedly found open.

  She pulled the comforter against her mouth as she recalled the figure in the tub—just a hallucination, right? It had to be. Because things like that didn’t exist.

  She turned her thoughts to something that made her happy, to the first few days that Harrison had been home. But those thoughts looped back on themselves to a moment in the nursery during a midnight feeding she couldn’t quite shake. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she’d cradled Harry in her arms while he cried, sure that he’d never stop. And then, as if flipping a switch, he had gone so still and silent that Phoebe’s heart had tripped over itself. She looked down, and through the darkness she saw him staring up at her, grinning. And while any other mother would have been delighted, that toothless smile, those nearly-black eyes, Phoebe had torn her gaze away from his face and stared at the wall instead, her bottom lip trembling because somehow, for some reason, she had been terrified of her own child. It was the same nonsensical terror she had felt as a girl.

  The same terror she had felt as she had stood in the hallway, staring at the glinting animal eyes of that woman in the tub.

  A hallucination, she reminded herself again.

  Which meant that the shadow that had passed through the picture of Harrison’s crib had been a delusion as well, right?

  It meant that the closet door had simply been left open. An oversight. It hadn’t opened on its own, she thought, because doors don’t do that. They just don’t.

  And that shadow had loomed over Harrison, as if watching him sleep? It had just been a glitch in the system.

  But then why had Harrison screamed?

  He’d screamed because he had seen it, too.

  “Oh my god.” Phoebe nearly choked on the words as she sat up in bed, fumbling for her phone. She woke the screen and the black-and-white image of Harrison appeared. He was sleeping, peaceful as ever, which only made her squeeze her eyes shut and grit her teeth. “Stop it,” she told herself. “You have to stop it. You’re thinking stupid, impossible thoughts.”

  But that nagging, almost hysterical feeling refused to let up this time. It was clawing at her insides, leaving her raw from the inside out.

  When she opened her eyes again, Harrison was no longer asleep.

  He was staring up at the lights of the baby monitor, his pupils glinting white.

  A moment later, a shadow overtook the night vision shot. She could no longer see Harrison’s face, just his kicking feet, same as before.

  He was struggling.

  Something terrible was happening and she wasn’t there, wasn’t—

  Her heart stopped when the speaker picked up a sound.

  Hissing.

  The same as she’d heard the night before, so loud it had made her ears ring.

  A startled cry forced its way out of her throat.

  She tried to call Theo from the car, but he didn’t pick up.

  On her phone screen, baby Harrison was shaking his head back and forth so quickly, his face was nothing but a blur. His little body tensed. His muscles coiled like springs.

  “Goddamnit!” She stepped on the gas, blasting through a couple of intersections, unsure of what she was speeding toward or what she was going to do when she finally got home. Because while she was overwhelmed by the need to protect her son, her hands trembled against the steering wheel despite her white-knuckled grip.

  When she arrived home, the place was dark.

  She moved through the kitchen and into the living room with quick but silent steps, wanting to call out Theo’s name but holding back, sure that this was another bizarre fantasy. Certain she’d finally lost her goddamn mind. But blaming her own mental state felt unfair, however fragile it may have been. Because she knew what she had seen.

  Her instincts told her to rush past the closed nursery door, burst into the master bedroom, and shake Theo awake. Not being alone would, at least, quell some of the fear that was roiling at the pit of her stomach. But if she did that, he’d want to know why she was back home. If she was wrong, there would be no backtracking, no laughing it off.

  He’ll think you’re co
mpletely crazy, she thought. He’ll take Harrison away.

  Having frozen just beyond the nursery door, she reached out for the handle only to realize it wasn’t latched. It swung open, inviting her in.

  Inside, the scent was overpowering. Fresh soil and soot.

  The room was dark, unremarkable save for one thing. Her gaze immediately fell upon the closet—wide open and gaping, just as it had been for days. But this time it wasn’t empty. This time, there was something there, huddled on the floor next to Harrison’s laundry basket. Someone coiled up—head tucked into their chest; arms protectively folded over their head.

  “…Theo?” The name left her in a weak whisper, hardly audible over the thump of her own heart.

  She sank to her knees, her hand falling onto her husband’s shoulder. But rather than unfurling to see his wife beside him, his weight shifted like a top-heavy vase. He tipped, falling against her, his arms nothing but dead weight, dropping away from his head to reveal a petrified, screaming face.

  Phoebe attempted to scramble away, but Theo’s torso pinned one of her legs to the floor.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but it didn’t have a chance to make it out of her throat. Because there, in the far corner of the room, the woman stood watching, her hair billowing, so tall her head nearly brushed the ceiling.

  And there, at her feet, baby Harrison sat unassisted despite hardly being able to hold up his own head.

  His eyes glinted as he smiled at his mother.

  Sitting at the Governess’s feet.

  Ania Ahlborn is the bestselling author of the horror thrillers Within These Walls, The Bird Eater, The Shuddering, If You See Her, and Seed, and the novellas The Pretty Ones and I Call Upon Thee. Born in Ciechanow, Poland, she lives in South Carolina with her husband, son, and their dog. Visit AniaAhlborn.com or follow the author on Facebook and Twitter @AniaAhlbornAuthor.

  Urban Moon