Other Voices, Other Tombs

by Joe Sullivan

  Abby sniffled. “He who?”

  “Heehee,” Celeste said. She lifted her teddy from her lap and put it in front of Abby’s face.

  Inhaling the musty scent of the antique bear, Abigale grimaced and pulled away. The thing smiled at her gleefully, eyes blue as winter twilight. Abby didn’t like the toy. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Celeste said, tucking Heehee under one arm. “What matters is that we’ve found each other. All my life, I’ve felt like a piece of me was missing, like my heart had been carved out of my belly.” She lay a hand on her stomach, as if she truly believed that’s where her heart was located. “When I saw that picture, everything made sense.”

  Abigale knew how Celeste felt. Her desire for a sister had always been there, tugging at her heartstrings. Now she knew why. Not only did she have a sister, but she had a twin sister, one that her father—and a mother she knew nothing about—hid from her for ten years.

  “All this time,” Celeste continued, “Mom told me Daddy died in a car accident, convinced me she and I were the only ones. But here you were the whole time, waiting for me to find you. Now we can be sisters again.”

  Attempting to compose herself, Abigale took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help. How Celeste managed to hold back tears at a moment like this, Abby didn’t know. “How can we?” she pressed. “We live miles apart. And our parents must hate each other to do what they did. They’ll never want to get back together.”

  “They don’t have to,” Celeste said. “But maybe we can convince them to let us see each other. Instead of splitting us apart, they can share us. Daddy can have us one year and Mommy can have us the next. That’s what they should have done all along.”

  It was a good point. But still, Abby was afraid her stepmom wouldn’t have anything to do with Celeste, that she would laugh at the whole situation and never let them be together. Whatever Lola wanted, Lola got.

  “We can’t just dump this on them though,” Celeste added. “We need to ease them into it, trick them like they tricked us. We should switch places.”

  “What?” Abigale exclaimed, leaping from the bottom bunk as if it was infested with spiders. “You mean…pretend to be each other? Like in The Parent Trap?”

  “What’s The Parent Trap?” Celeste didn’t wait for an answer. “Relax. Our parents won’t know a thing until we tell them. By then, they will have no choice but to bring us together and face each other. Maybe if they talk things through, they’ll agree to share us.”

  Lifting her hands to her temples, Abby said, “I don’t think we…We can’t just…I can’t—”

  “We can,” Celeste said, standing from the bunk and hugging her sister. “Trust me, it will work. Don’t you want to meet our mother?”

  Abigale tried not to soil Celeste’s dress with tears. “I do. But I don’t think you’ll like Daddy. Or his wife. Lola is the most awful person to walk the planet.”

  “I can handle her.” Celeste pulled away and looked deep into Abigale’s eyes. They were identical to hers. “This is going to work. I know it will. Just say yes.”

  As much as she wanted to say no, to avoid what would be a very scary adventure, the thought of seeing what her mother was really like—and getting away from home—was all too compelling. Abby swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Okay.”

  The rest of the summer was spent in preparation for the switch. The sisters exchanged strict do’s and don’ts when it came to house rules, then they schooled each other on family trees and traditions. Abigale climbed into bed each night feeling like a broken piggybank, emptied and spent. Her friends didn’t even bother speaking to her anymore. Instead, they shared perturbed glances with one another before shutting off the lights.

  Celeste repeatedly talked about what fun she was having, but for Abigale, this was no different than boot camp. She didn’t make a habit of hanging around pushy girls, so she found her twin’s strive for perfection to be particularly taxing. Still, Abby somewhat understood. If she didn’t get every little detail correct, her mother would see that the girl who left home for the summer was not the girl who returned.

  Abby sure missed her friends, though.

  The last step in ‘Operation: Switch’, as Celeste called it, was chopping off her Disney princess hair to match the length of Abigale’s. After that, the girls swapped their wardrobes and belongings, except for Heehee, of course. Celeste insisted on keeping the stuffed bear, bursting into tears at one point at the thought of parting with the mangy toy.

  “It’s okay, really,” Abby said for the tenth time. “You can keep Heehee.” Abigale did not want to take that thing with her. She didn’t even want it in her duffel bag.

  Just like that, summer was over. As Abby helped Celeste load her luggage onto the bus, she couldn’t help but think about all the fun activities she missed at camp. This was more important, though. She knew that.

  “Looks like I’m ready to go.” Celeste sighed, giving her twin a hug. “Good luck. Papaw should be here in an hour. His flight will land any minute.”

  The two exchanged goodbyes until the bus driver finally shouted, “Okay, ladies, I have places to go.”

  With that, the two parted ways once again. Abigale watched as Celeste found a seat at the back of the bus, waving as it kicked up dirt and pulled away. Abby was left standing with the other girls, each waiting to be picked up by their parents and taken home. Celeste was lucky that their father only lived a short thirty-minute drive from Camp Little-Ridge, so she didn’t have a long trip ahead of her. The same couldn’t be said for Abby.

  An hour later, a white limousine appeared in the distance, speeding down the road and entering Little-Ridge’s small parking area. A treelike man with ashy hair and skin resembling a well-read paperback hopped out of the vehicle before he even put it in gear. “You cut your hair! It looks beautiful!” he shouted, darting toward Abigale. For an old guy, he sure knew how to run. He squeezed the girl tight, saying, “I missed you so much. The house has been a lonely place without you.”

  “I missed you too, Papaw,” Abigale said, trying out her much-rehearsed impression of Celeste. “Is that…a limo?”

  “Oh, this old thing?” Papaw said with a chuckle. “Yeah. I decided to rent something special. Too much?”

  “No, it’s awesome!” Abigale scrambled to the back door of the limousine and was about to open it herself when the old man stopped her.

  “Not so fast, mademoiselle. Allow me, if you will.” He opened the door, bowing before taking her hand and helping her inside. She could have handled it herself, but she was enjoying the special treatment. Her father never exerted such care and charm.

  Abigale wasn’t sure if you were supposed to buckle up while riding in a limo, but she did anyway, just to be safe. “I can’t wait to go home,” she told her new grandfather as he sat on the driver’s seat and started the vehicle. “It’s been a busy summer. How is Mother doing?”

  The man paused; his hand frozen on the gearshift. He looked back at Abby, thick eyebrows knitted together forming a caterpillar on his forehead. “I’m sorry, honey, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  “Mother,” Abby repeated. “How is she?”

  Papaw’s confused expression remained. He looked down, as if trying to remember something that had long since been forgotten. “Are you…being funny, Celeste?”

  “What? No,” Abby said. Her own blunt way of speaking was returning.

  “Because it isn’t very funny to joke about things like that,” the man said, eyes narrowed.

  Abigale opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to respond. Her brain was fuzzy all of a sudden. Was there something Celeste forgot to tell her? Finally, she rediscovered her voice. “Is everything okay, Papaw?”

  “I…” He stared at her for a moment longer until his expression softened. “Is everything okay with you? You’re scaring me, darlin’.”

  “I’m sorry,” Abigale said, looking at her shoes to avoid the m
an’s intense stare. “I must be confused.”

  “Honey, nothing has changed since you left,” Papaw said softly. “You understand that, yes? Your mother isn’t coming back.”

  “Wait, what do you mean? Where did she go?” Abby’s heart was racing. Was her mom away somewhere? Would she not get to meet her?

  Papaw repeated Abigale’s question. “’Where did she go?’ Celeste, I thought we were past this. You know your mother is dead.”

  Abigale’s jaw became as heavy as firewood. She gripped the edge of the leather seat as if it would drop into the earth, leaving her in an endless freefall. “Dead? But…that’s not true. Celeste told me all about her. She said—” Abby stopped.

  Grandfather watched her with wide, misty eyes. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Abigale? Abigale, is that you?”

  Abby’s blood turned to snow. She nodded.

  Papaw’s chin quivered. “Okay,” he said, facing forward and putting the car into drive. “Okay, I understand. Abigale…honey, I need you to be honest with me. Where is your sister?”

  “She’s…” Oh no, the plan was ruined! All messed up! “She’s home. She’s with Dad.”

  Celeste stared at her reflection and smiled. “Abigale,” she said. “My name is Abigale Fitzpatrick.”

  She lowered the blood-covered kitchen knife and turned to her stepmother. Wicked stepmother. The young brunette lay on the kitchen floor, clutching her bleeding cranium. The meat mallet Celeste had used to bash against Lola’s head was placed on the island, far out of the woman’s reach.

  “My name is Abigale Fitzpatrick,” the ten-year-old told Lola matter-of-factly. “Abiiiiigaaaale…”

  Lola moaned as she began to come around. Her eyelids were bags of salt. So heavy…So very sleepy… She wanted to fall back into that dark place, but her gut said, “No. You stay awake or you die. Take your pick.” Something awful had happened, but Lola couldn’t remember what. She didn’t even know where she was.

  Shaking the fog from her skull, she strained to reassemble her split eyesight. Focusing, both sides finally came together and overlapped. That’s when she spotted her husband’s corpse sprawled on the kitchen tile, looking more like a butchered cow in a white button-down and jeans rather than the handsome man she married three years ago.

  “Ohhhh,” Lola moaned. “Oh, nooo…” She stood, ready to make a dash for the foyer, but the spinning carnival ride in her head combined with the slippery crimson beneath her feet sent her splashing to the ground. Her nose collided with the tile, issuing an audible pop. Lola cried out in agony, rolling onto her back and clutching her broken nose.

  “New nose!” Celeste shouted with glee. “You’ll need a new nose!”

  “Ab—Abigale?” Lola squeaked. Her dazed eyes finally settled on her stepdaughter. Had it not been for the blood adorning her hair and clothes, and the blade dangling from one hand, the girl would have resembled a smiling angel. She used her available arm to hold Heehee to her chest, giving him a peck on his blood-stained head.

  “Got them, Heehee. Got them,” Celeste whispered.

  “You…” Lola wheezed, fighting to remain conscious. “…killed your own father…little brat…I’ll ship you off to…Switzerland!”

  “You hush!” Celeste screamed, lifting the knife above her head and bounding toward Lola. “Mean old witch! Bad! I’ll ship you off!”

  She brandished the wide shining blade, ready to plunge it into the woman’s face, when a voice cried out. “Wait! Stop!”

  Celeste froze. Lifting her eyes, she peered into the hallway bordering the kitchen. Papaw stood before her, framed by the kitchen doorway. He stretched his empty palms outward in a gesture of peace, proving his aged hands were of no threat.

  “Oh Jesus, Celeste. You must stop!” he said. “Please, baby girl, put the knife down. You can’t do this.”

  “Celeste?” Lola’s voice was a nasally cry. “Who the hell is Celeste? What is happening?”

  “Shut up or I’ll get you!” Celeste threatened, bending down to give the woman a quick slash across the shin. Lola shrieked, clutching her leg as blood spurted from the wound.

  “Celeste, I said stop!” Papaw shouted. He was about to rush at his granddaughter, but she was too quick. She grabbed Lola by the hair and spun her around on the slick floor, holding the knife to her neck.

  “Go ahead. Stop me.” Celeste pressed the blade to the woman’s skin.

  Papaw backed away, hands returning to their former position. “What are you doing, honey? What are you thinking?” he begged. “I don’t understand.”

  “Heehee told me everything!” Celeste spat. “He told me you and Mommy were lying. You lied about my sister. You told me Daddy was dead. Now he is!” She motioned to the man’s cadaver with her knife before returning it to Lola’s neck. “That man abandoned me. He didn’t want me! He left me with Mommy, and she didn’t want me either. She…she ignored me.”

  “Sweetie, listen to me,” her grandfather pleaded. “I know your mother didn’t treat you right. That’s why I have tried so hard to be good to you, to give you a happy life. I love you.”

  “Liar!” Celeste screamed. “You don’t love me. You lied to me! You never told me I had a sister. You kept us apart!”

  Lola fussed under Celeste’s grip. She turned her attention to the woman, lightly dragging the cold steel tip from ear to ear. “My sister told me all about you. She told me how mean you are, how you boss her around and make her feel stupid. Turns out you’re the stupid one for treating people that way. If you hurt others, you get hurt too.”

  “I’m sorry!” Lola cried. “Really, I am! I’ll try be nicer to her, I swear!”

  “Try?” Celeste gripped Lola’s hair even tighter. “Try?! I have a knife to your neck and the best you can do is ‘try’? No. I don’t think so.”

  Celeste drew back her knife, lifting it high over her head before plunging it down, down...

  A tough, weathered hand shot out, knocking the knife from Celeste’s grip. It clattered to the floor and Papaw dived for it, lifting the bloody blade off the tile and pointing it at his granddaughter. Lola pulled herself free and scrambled away from Celeste, slipping and sliding over the bloody kitchen floor until she reached her dead husband. She began sobbing, begging him to wake up. “Please! Oh God, please!” Secretly, she wondered how much money she would inherit after this shit-show was over.

  Celeste stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly bending at the knee to pick Heehee off the floor. She hugged him tight. “Heehee…” she whispered in a pouting tone.

  “You killed your mother, didn’t you?” Papaw said, holding the knife upright before him. “You…You pushed her.”

  “Just a little,” Celeste said softly, looking down at Heehee’s smiling face. “Karma.”

  “You’re a murderer…” he whimpered, the floodgates breaking open.

  “Sometimes. Aren’t we, Heehee?” Celeste held the toy to one ear, listened for a moment, then giggled. “You’re right. He doesn’t know,” she whispered.

  “Doesn’t know what?” Papaw demanded.

  “So silly. Doesn’t even see.”

  “See what?!” the old man shouted.

  Celeste put a hand to her smiling mouth, eyes crinkled at the edges, and pointed with the other hand. “Behind you,” she hissed.

  Papaw twirled on his heels, spinning around just in time to see a meat mallet whooshing through the air. It smashed against his left cheek, splitting his thin skin and shattering the bone beneath. The man let loose a raspy gasp as he tumbled on top of the kitchen island. The mallet came down again and again, bashing the back of his head with sickly wet thuds.

  Lola screamed in terror, watching as a girl who looked just like her stepdaughter bludgeoned the poor man over and over. The girl finally dropped the mallet, breathing deeply as her tears mingled with the blood speckling her pretty face.

  Rounding the island, Abigale stepped up to Celeste, facing her sister for the first time since they parted ways back at camp
. “Hi,” Abby said, wiping the tears and blood from her face with the sleeve of her dress, the same dress Celeste had worn their first day at camp.

  “Hi,” Celeste said.

  “I…I couldn’t let him hurt you,” Abby uttered, sprouting fresh tears. “I saw him holding the knife and—I was scared. I was scared I’d lose you again, just when we started to…” Abby paused, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  “…Just when we started to be sisters,” Celeste finished.

  Abby looked into her twin’s green eyes and smiled. Celeste smiled back. “We don’t have to be apart ever again,” Celeste said. “Isn’t that right, Heehee.”

  She held the stuffed bear between them and, for the briefest of moments, Abby thought she saw the ratty old thing nod its head.

  A squeaking sound echoed from the hallway outside the kitchen. The two girls turned to see Lola pulling her bleeding body toward the front door, whimpering dramatically even though the cut on her leg would only need a few stitches.

  Abigale rolled her eyes. “She’s such a baby. I don’t know why I ever let her get to me.”

  “She doesn’t have to anymore,” Celeste said, grabbing the meat mallet off the island and holding it out to Abby. She stared at it for a moment, shocked at first by the blood dripping off its blunt end. Then she took it, feeling its weight in her hand again.

  Celeste lifted the knife off the floor and showed Abigale a grin that was all teeth and rosy cheeks. “Sisters?” she asked.

  Abby nodded. “Sisters.”

  Cameron Chaney was born and raised in a small Ohio town you’ve never heard of. He spent his childhood roaming his family’s six-acre yard, devouring one book after another, and dreaming up monsters and ghouls. He can now be found working on the Bookmobile for his local library, typing away in his office, or geeking out over books and horror on YouTube. Cameron's Halloween-themed short story collection Autumncrow will be available in October 2019. Don't feed him after midnight...

  The Red Rose