The Nothing House

by Cherie Mitchell

  Organza sits herself down cross-legged at Mr. Devall’s feet, eager for story time. He gives her an uneasy smile and shifts his own feet to move slightly away from her. Seems he’s no longer quite so sure of his own measles-proof status now that he’s around Princess Spotty.

  “My own family has deep roots in Gypsy Creek. My great-great-grandfather bought his new bride here to start a life when the town was still called Tyrellton.” His eyes mist over as he sinks into memories. “We’ve always been happy here. It’s a good place to bring up a family, a safe place.”

  “Not such a safe place to be an orphan,” Liam points out practically.

  “Unfortunately, no. At one time it most certainly wasn’t.”

  “What I don’t understand is how Bedeliah managed to pull kids out of the orphanage and kill them without Gypsy noticing. How could she not see that there were increasing numbers of empty seats at the dinner table?” This has been bothering me since I read the article. If Gypsy Latham was as saintly as they say, shouldn’t she have had a better handle on her young charges?

  “Gypsy was away a lot. She carried out many charitable works that took her away from home and she entrusted Bedeliah to run the orphanage while she was gone. Or at least, that’s what my grandmother told me when she first sat me down to tell me the awful tale. I thought she’d made it up to scare me but it seems there was plenty of truth in it.”

  “Uh-uh.” Liam isn’t looking at Mr. Devall as he says it. He’s looking past him.

  I follow the direction of his gaze and tilt my head up as Reece drifts out of his bedroom, his feet hovering about six feet off the ground as he makes his way over to where we’re sitting.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Things get a little chaotic after that.

  Mr. Devall gives up any pretense at composure and runs screaming out of the house, throwing back the door so hard it that it jumps around on its hinges like a mad thing. Liam leaps up and tries to grab at Reece’s feet, but he speeds up and zips out of the way. Not that I think it’s him doing the moving – his eyes are too cling film glazed for him to have much control over any of his body parts. Organza throws her arms out and flops backward on the floor, rolling her eyes and muttering about Reece doing anything for attention, which is one of the biggest examples of the pot calling the kettle black that I have ever seen.

  And me, well… I don’t do much. The truth is, I’m too disappointed to move from my seat yet. I’d hoped that we were getting to be friends with Mr. Devall, hoped that he might be willing to help us, but it seems that all hope is now lost. Lost hopes appear to be part of my life path and I can’t say I’m liking that idea too much. They say that life is what you make it but it’s not as if I have much of a choice in all of this.

  Reece is now hovering over the sofa and Liam jumps up on the cushions in a futile attempt to get hold of his legs. Reece nimbly scoots out of the way and, before I fully understand what’s happening, he zooms out the open door after Mr. Devall. Now that gets me out of my seat. “Grab him! Don’t let him go outside! We’ll never get him back if he goes out there like that!”

  Liam puts on a super-hero burst of speed and charges out the door after my brother. I’m right behind him, don’t you worry about that. I’m not letting that boy out of my sight. “Arrrggghh!” Liam throws himself up into the air with one last herculean effort and finally catches Reece by the ankles. “Got him!”

  “I told ya, Orlando. I told ya. There’s weird stuff going on in that house. There’s a pack of crazed kids stumbling around the oak tree and you just saw what I saw. I gotta get Eddie down here a-sap.”

  I glance over at the mailbox to see that the cop at the gate has found himself a friend. El creepo, the man from the hotel and the shoe store, is standing with him and they’re both staring at us as if they’re just seen that circus has come to town. Roll up, roll up.

  “Hi! Hello!” Organza pushes past me, apparently unconcerned about the welfare of her brother, and waves merrily at the men. I can almost feel the draft of her eyelashes flapping from where I’m standing. “Do you remember me? You were helping me pick out some shoes.”

  El creepo, or Orlando, visibly shudders and takes a step back but I’m beyond caring about what they’re up to out there. I push Liam, who is now cradling a drowsy Reece in his arms, back into the house then reach back to haul Organza in with us.

  “Wow, this is nuts.” Liam lays Reece out on the sofa and lightly slaps his cheeks. “Reece. Hey, kid. Wake up.”

  “Is he all right?” I hang anxiously over Liam’s shoulder, searching Reece’s face for any signs of a return to normality.

  Reece opens his eyes, his cling film-free eyes, and gives me a ghostly, sweet smile. “Hey, Ellie.”

  I hear the click of the front door behind us and I whirl around to see that it’s now firmly closed. I know for a fact that I didn’t bother closing it after that kerfuffle on the step. Organza is nowhere to be seen.

  “Watch him, Liam. I’ll be right back.”

  That girl will be the death of me, I swear. Here I am, surrounded by pint-size zombies and a possessed brother yet it’ll be my 14-year-old sister who signs my death warrant. I yank on the door handle but it doesn’t budge and I waste several seconds fiddling with the deadlock that she snipped as she left the house. Does she really think she’s not going to pay for that little trick once I get my hands on her?

  “Orrrganzaaaa Friedlander!” My voice hits the step before my foot does and I don’t care how screechy and witchy it is. I can see she’s already at the mailbox, leaning up against it as if she’s posing for Vogue, and Orlando and the cop are pressed up against the side of the cruiser and watching her dubiously. Seriously, that girl’s self-confidence kills me.

  “Organza, get back inside. Stop annoying the nice policeman.” I rein in Ellie-the-fishwife and lean my shoulder insouciantly against the doorframe. There’s no sense in making a worse impression on the locals then we already have. “Come on, come back in the house. It’s nearly time to start on dinner.”

  Organza pouts at me but she doesn’t move from the mailbox. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just talking. I’m bored with being cooped up in the house all day.”

  “You have the measles.” I’m trying to broadcast my voice while keeping it steady, which is actually quite difficult to do through gritted teeth. “You don’t want your friends to catch the infection.”

  I’d be lying if I said I don’t enjoy the immediate effect of my words. It would be lovely if everyone always reacted so quickly and succinctly to whatever I have to say. Orlando and the cop are off the pavement and scurrying behind the cruiser faster than I can say barley soup and yeah, it’s satisfying.

  Organza visibly droops as she watches them run and hide. “Guys, come back. I just want to talk.”

  “Organza, the show is over. Get yourself inside before I call Mom and get you shipped back to Kansas.” Mom doesn’t live in Kansas but it’s a threat she’s used on the kids over the years, something to do with that old black and white version of the Wizard of Oz, although the meaning of it has always been lost on me.

  However, the words have hit home with Organza. She slams the top of the mailbox with her fist and turns around to stomp back up the path, marching toward me with a face as black as an afternoon in a coalmine. She is fairly transparent with her emotions, this sister of mine, I’ll give her that much. I grab her shoulder, ignoring her shrill cry and her protests about child abuse, and I shove her into the house in front of me. “Get inside,” I hiss in her ear. “We’re in enough trouble as it is without you adding anything to the stewpot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  You’d think all the dramas would be over now. We’ve definitely had about as much as I can stomach for one day and I thought we were done. However, we all know what Thought thought. My Mom used to chant that one at me when I was a kid and it drove me nuts – ‘We all know what Thought thought – he thought his butt was out of bed so he got out to push it i
n again.’ Seriously, who comes up with this parental stuff? Is there a book somewhere that lists stupid things to tell your kids?

  But no, the drama isn’t over. These are the Friedlanders we’re talking about here. Things can get worse and they generally do. Trust me.

  Liam notices it first. We’re all sitting huddled together on the sofa, eating mac and cheese from bowls and watching some inane Canadian TV show about house renos, when he looks up and stares across at the window that overlooks the street. The curtain is drawn, of course, but the look on his face makes me turn to see what it is that has caught his attention. A myriad of red and blue lights are flashing rhythmically against the hanging folds of fabric and my heart drops. This can’t be good.

  “What’s all that noise?” Reece has noticed the commotion outside the house now and for the first time, I’m aware of the clanging, banging sounds that go along with the flashing lights.

  We leave our meal and all race over to the window, all of us pushing and shoving at each other with no care for manners or of putting others before ourselves. Now is not the time for false etiquette, no siree, and I’ll be the first to admit it. Liam get there first and tears back the curtain, making the rings screech along the curtain rail like a volley of alley cats calling on a fence, and we all scramble for the best view.

  This is madness. There are cops everywhere. It’s full on cop-a-rama out there. They’re running this way and that in some kind of ballet of synchronized urgency and a bunch of men are throwing up instant-erect fences and scaffolding to make a barrier to surround the property. They’re locking us in. I swear, I think I’m about to faint. This is too much. This is Cemetery Hill all over again. We are deja voodoo, we know more than you doo.

  “Ellie?” Liam, onboard with my feelings, is instantly solicitous and concerned. “Come away from the window. There’s no need for you to see this.” He helps me back across to the sofa and I’m glad. I don’t think my legs would support me otherwise.

  “They want us gone,” I say in a small voice. “They want to pretend we don’t exist. They know about the zombies and they’d prefer it if we died rather than try to help us.”

  “Nah, you’ve got that wrong. Of course they want to help us.” He says it as if he believes it but the tremor in his voice gives him away. Hey, I can understand how he’s feeling. He’s never had to deal with such betrayal before.

  “No. No they don’t.” I pick a discarded blanket up off the sofa and pull it up around me, a protective layer against a cruel, hard world. I glance over at the window, over at Organza and Reece, who now have their heads together and are giggling at something they can see outside. “What are you kids doing?”

  Reece looks over his shoulder at me, his face a picture of mischievousness and devilment. “We can see Officer Leonard’s butt crack. He’s too fat to bend over to help fix the fence and his pants are riding down.”

  I give him a faint smile to show him I still have a sense of humor before I turn back to Liam. “This is dire. I’ve been here before and I’m telling you now, that fence is going to make life really difficult for us.”

  “Can they do this? Isn’t there a law against it? Don’t we have rights?” I can see Liam getting worked up and I remember that he marched in a couple of semi-political rallies at Berkeley. However, sign waving and chanting won’t do us any good here. We’re facing small town bigotry and that’s a supremely hard beast to conquer.

  “Awww, they’re leaving,” Organza says from the window, her voice dripping disappointment. “That was fun to watch. Better than watching TV.”

  I push myself up from the sofa, aware of how much energy it’s costing me to do so. I need to pull myself together if I want to get through this. Focused, high-powered energy is what’s required for what lies ahead and I should know that better than anyone.

  “Officer Leonard is still there,” Reece announces as I approach the window. “He’s standing outside the gate with his gun.”

  I rest my hands on my brother and sister’s shoulders and peer out the window into the dark of the early evening. The new fence is plain to see in the light thrown by Officer Leonard’s cruiser lights and looking at it feels like I’m looking at a prison I’ll never escape from. The new gate is locked too, locked with chains and a padlock. It’s all too familiar and painful. Oh, Daddy.

  Organza giggles uncertainly and swivels her head to stare at me. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” I say quickly as I back away from the window, “I didn’t say anything. Hey, you guys. You should go get ready for bed. It’s been a long day and there’s another one tomorrow.” I hadn’t realized I’m uttered my thoughts aloud and I’m not about to let the kids know how helpless and hopeless I’m feeling.

  I need everyone in this house to remain as upbeat as possible for what we have to do. Tomorrow, once we’re rested and refreshed, we need to put a plan together to outwit both the zombies and the overtly insulated people of Gypsy Creek.

  And I promise myself that we’ll succeed, if it’s the last thing I ever do.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I wake up to the sound of a fly buzzing around the bedroom. It’s making that droning, constant sound that you can’t avoid no matter hard you try to shut your ears to it. I groan and roll over, pulling up the bedcover and snuggling into Liam as I try to make the fly land somewhere and shut up through the pure force of my willpower. To land anywhere except on me, that is.

  I hear the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom next door and I assume it’s Organza, up for an early morning tinkle before going back to sleep. Liam is warm and solid beside me and I lie my head against his back, enjoying the sound of his regular heartbeat against my ear. The toilet flushes again but I don’t take too much notice. Organza ate two servings of mac and cheese last night and those carbs have to find their way out somehow.

  Liam stirs, shifting on the pillow, then reaches around to put his hand on my butt. I smile and press my body against his back, prepared to make the most of this alone time before the day begins, when the fly buzzes past my ear and lands ticklishly on my cheek. I let out a shriek, I can’t help it, and sit up as Liam turns and frowns sleepily at me. “What’s up?”

  “A fly. It landed on me.” A shiver courses through me, shaking my whole body, as I scrub at my cheek to rid it of the sensation of fly legs. The crow scratch has scabbed over now and my nails snag roughly against it as I frantically gaze around for the fly. “I can’t see it.”

  Liam snorts and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or making a derisive, dismissive noise. I’m about to ask him when the toilet flushes again. “What the hell is Organza doing in there?” I fling my legs over the side of the bed and huff my way over to the door. I need to pee anyway and she better not be stinking up the bathroom when other people in the house have to use it.

  I vaguely notice that Organza’s bedroom door is shut as I barge my way down the hallway to the bathroom. I hammer on the door, putting my mouth close to the wood as I yell, “Why are you flushing the toilet so much? Our room is right next door, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Ellie?” Organza’s bedroom door opens on the opposite side of the hallway and she pokes her head out, sleep-tousled and drowsy, as the toilet flushes again.

  “You’re not in there?” I’m confused now. Reece isn’t usually an early riser and he has a power bladder. He can hold on until lunchtime before he does his first pee of the day. But it must be him – everyone else in the house is accounted for. “Is it Reece?”

  “No, it’s not me.” Reece appears at the end of the hallway. “What’s all the fuss about?”

  Liam steps out of our bedroom then and we’re all just standing there looking at each other as the toilet flushes once more. Organza swats her hand in front of her face, batting that dratted fly out of the way, and frowns at me. “We’re all here. No one can be in there.”

  “Maybe it’s a problem with the plumbing,” Liam says as he goes to open the bathroom door. “T
his is an old house. We already know the water pressure is bad.” He flips the handle and pushes at the door with the flat of his hand. The door creaks open and we all lean forward and peer inside.

  I think I’ve already mentioned that it’s an old style bathroom with a shower over the tub and a toilet in the corner. I don’t know if I said that it’s one of those creepy toilets with a black toilet seat and a chain to flush the cistern, but that’s exactly what it is. Anyway, right now it’s even creepier. The seat is flipped up, which is something I’m still trying to train Liam not to do and as we watch, the chain dips down as if an unseen hand is tugging on it. The toilet flushes again, filling the bowl with a cascade of water.

  “Huh?”

  Liam takes a step into the bathroom but I grab the back of his t-shirt to hold him back. “Wait. Something isn’t right.”

  Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s an understatement if I ever made one but it’s still early in the morning, okay?

  “Can someone sort this out?” Organza says pompously. “Some of us need to pee.”

  Liam hesitates on the threshold and the chain jerks again, but this time the water doesn’t bubble up. Instead, a horrible, stinking, brown poopy mess vomits out of the bowl, splattering the wall and covering the floor with stringy, sticky goop.

  Organza screams, I scream, Reece scuttles away down the hall, and Liam makes a nasty puking sound. I can’t tear my eyes away as a lava trail of brown disgustingness floods out of the toilet and rapidly makes its way across the bathroom floor to where the three of us are still standing in the doorway.

  “Run!” Organza shrieks, setting off down the hallway after Reece as if she has rockets strapped to her feet. “It’s a shit torrent!”

  Liam does that double retch action that often prefaces a vomit session and turns away, bending over and holding his belly. He stumbles up the hallway, away from the bathroom, leaving me to my own devices.