by Amy Cross
“I believe that is the story.”
Owen flinched as he heard Jenna dumping her bag on the floor in the next room, and then he flinched again as he heard a loud creaking sound, as if she was testing the bed.
“And the house has stood empty since the last family disappeared?” he asked.
“That is correct,” Mr. Daniels, replied, “but there is no connection between the two events. It is simply that Mr. Marchionne's last will and testament specified a certain period that must elapse before new tenants were allowed to move in. He neglected to explain why this was so important to him, but it is not my job to second-guess his reasons.”
“So the place has been sitting empty for all that time, until today?”
“Precisely,” Mr. Daniels replied. “Until today.”
***
“I shall drop by again to see how you're doing in the week,” Mr. Daniels explained as he limped down the steps at the front of the house. “I shan't make a habit of intruding, of course, but the late Mr. Marchionne's instructions -”
“Let me guess,” Owen replied with a smile as he walked the elderly man toward the car parked over by the cherry tree, “Mr. Marchionne specified in his will that a representative from the trust should come and check on the new tenants at a certain point.”
“We must follow Mr. Marchionne's instructions to the letter,” Mr. Daniels replied, unlocking the car door before turning to Owen. “He left a great deal of money that is managed by the trust in order to -”
Before he could finish, loud rock music suddenly began blaring from one of the house's upstairs rooms. A moment later, the music was turned down a little, but Mr. Daniels still appeared a little shocked as he looked toward the building.
“My daughter is revolting,” Owen explained. “She's entering that awkward phase.”
“So it appears.”
“But we'll take really good care of the house, and I promise you, we'll stick to every rule that you laid out for us. Feel free to drop by any time, Mr. Daniels. You'll see that the house is quite safe with us.”
“I have no doubts whatsoever,” Mr. Daniels replied, reaching out and shaking Owen's hand. “Oh, and you'll find control boxes for the fuse system and the electrical supply in the basement,” he added. “I've had them all checked over, so they're quite safe, but if you experience any problems in that regard, you might want to take a look at the master switches. I'm told they can be a little temperamental sometimes.”
“I'll do that,” Owen said, taking a step back. “I should be okay, though. I'm pretty good with that sort of thing. I'm a practical kinda guy.”
He waited as Mr. Daniels climbed into his car, and then he watched as the old man carefully reversed across the driveway and onto the road. Finally, Owen let out a sigh of relief as the car rumbled away. Hearing footsteps nearby, he turned just in time to see Helen making her way down the steps, and he gave his wife a quick hug as she reached him.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“No comment,” she muttered, glancing back at the house.
“It's not that bad.”
“Jenna hates it.”
“Jenna hates everything. She's a teenager.”
He waited for Helen to reply, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes.
“We'll be okay here,” he added.
“Of course we will,” she said, forcing a smile. “We can make anything work, and we're only an hour's drive from town.”
“And it's not forever,” he continued, putting an arm around her as they both looked at the house, and as Jenna's music continued to ring out from one of the bedrooms. “We just need to get back on our feet, and then we can think about moving back to civilization. I mean, living here is better than going back to stay with your parents, isn't it? And it's better than having those assholes still chasing me for money I don't have yet.”
“Come on,” she replied, patting his shoulder and then making her way back toward the house. “Let's try to make it feel a little more like home.”
Chapter Six
“Still nothing,” Helen muttered, trying the stove again. She turned the dials several times, but still the hobs refused to start working. Glancing across the kitchen, she frowned. “I don't think anything on this side of the room has power.”
“That's weird,” Owen replied, checking the switches over by the far wall. “This side's fine. Must be something to do with the fuses.”
“We need to be able to make food,” she pointed out, clearly trying to hide her exasperation. “Owen, can you take a look? Didn't you say something about master switches in the basement?”
“I guess so,” he said with a sigh, wandering over to the door in the corner.
“And if you accidentally cut off the power to Jenna's room for the rest of the night,” Helen added, glancing at the ceiling as loud music continued to play throughout the house, “I wouldn't be totally distraught.”
***
“How's it going down there?” Helen shouted a few minutes later, as Owen made his way through the dark basement. “Any luck?”
“Not yet! It's kinda hard to find my way around!”
With just the light from his phone, Owen was struggling to reach the far side of the cold, crowded space. Wooden beams criss-crossed his path, and spider webs hung down to brush his face every few seconds. Finally, however, he managed to find an old wooden panel set against the wall, with various ancient-looking metal dials and switches alongside some gauges and indicators.
“Jesus,” he muttered, holding the phone's screen closer to the panel, “it's like something from the last century.” He sighed. “Well, I guess it is from the last century.”
Noticing a faint ticking sound from behind the panel, he turned his head and listened for a moment. Sighing, he opened another of the panels and saw various small black switches, some of which appeared to have been left in the 'off' position. Flicking them up, he turned and looked back toward the door.
“Try now!” he shouted.
“Still nothing!”
“I must be missing something,” he continued, swinging the panel shut and then making his way toward another bank of switches on the wall. Spotting a large black handle, he gave it a tug and found that it was stuck. Still, a sign next to the handle indicated that it was the master-switch for one of the fuse-boxes, so he pulled harder until finally the handle jolted upward.
“There!” Helen called down to him. “We have power!”
Frowning, Owen leaned closer to the panel as he realized that flicking the main switch seemed to have started some kind of ticking sound. After a moment, he noticed that the sound wasn't just coming from the switch itself. In fact, the entire basement now seemed to be alive with a steady, metronomic rhythm.
***
“So is this house clockwork, or what?” Helen asked with a faint, nervous smile as she looked across the dinner table. She waited for Jenna to say something, but her smile faded as she saw that her daughter was still dejectedly mopping tomato soup trails with a chunk of bread.
“Old Mr. Daniels didn't say anything about it,” Owen said, still looking up at the ceiling as the ticking sound continued. “It's not very loud, though. I'm sure I can fix it before bedtime.”
“I'm starting to like the place,” Helen continued, trying once again to smile and keeping her eyes fixed on Jenna. “I know it's not ideal, but there's no point moping. Tomorrow we can explore the area a little, see what's out there.” Glancing at the window, she saw that night had well and truly fallen now, and she couldn't help shivering as she thought of the vast, empty expanse of scrub-land that surrounded the house for miles in every direction. “There must be all sorts of wild-life in the area,” she added. “Maybe we should take some binoculars and -”
Suddenly she jumped as she heard a loud clanging sound, and she turned to see that Jenna had dropped a spoon into her bowl and was sitting back in her chair.
“May I be excused, please?”
“Jenna -”<
br />
“I'm finished.”
“We were going to have dessert,” Helen replied, glancing at Owen and hoping for a show of support. “I brought a cake all the way from -”
“Not hungry,” Jenna said sourly, staring down at her bowl. “I ate the soup. Isn't that enough?”
“Honey, please -”
“You'll stay at the table,” Owen said suddenly, watching Jenna with a hint of anger in his eyes. “We're having our first family dinner in the new house. I was actually thinking it'd be good to make this a regular thing. Now we're leading a less rushed life, we can make more time for one another.”
“Are you serious?” Jenna asked, turning to him.
“Your mother's got a cake ready for us,” he continued. “I'm sure it's lovely.”
Rolling her eyes, Jenna looked back down at her bowl.
“It's certainly an unusual house,” Helen continued, still trying to kick-start a conversation. “I've noticed that some of the walls are quite thick. Has anyone else noticed that?”
“A man built this place all by himself,” Owen pointed out, watching Jenna carefully, “with his own two hands. Doesn't that seem impressive?”
“Sure,” Jenna muttered. “More impressive than anything you've ever done.”
Owen sighed.
“Jenna,” Helen whispered, nudging her daughter's foot under the table. “Don't talk to your father that way.”
Jenna turned and glared at her.
“Maybe we should try a séance later,” Owen said suddenly. “Anyone up for that?”
Helen turned to him, her eyes filled with shock. “What?”
He grinned and shrugged. “No harm in trying, right? It might be fun.”
“Jack!” Helen hissed. “No!”
“I was just trying to think of something that might lighten the atmosphere,” Owen replied. “I figured maybe Jenna's not happy about certain things that happened here in the past and -”
“I don't give a shit about what happened here in the past,” Jenna snapped, turning to him. “I give a shit about what's happening here now!”
“Don't curse at me like that,” Owen said firmly. “You weren't raised to use that kind of language.”
“Oh, wasn't I?” Jenna asked, getting to her feet. “Are you suddenly going to pretend to give a damn about anyone apart from yourself?”
“Sit down, honey,” Helen hissed.
“You might be willing to put up with his crap,” Jenna told her, storming around the table and heading to the door, “but I'm not. I hate this house and I swear to God, the moment I turn sixteen I am out of here!”
“Jenna!”
“Let her go,” Owen said as they heard the front door swinging open and then slamming shut. “She's just being a typical teenager. Her hormones are probably all screwy.”
“She's not happy here,” Helen replied.
“The place just takes some getting used to. You're okay with it, right?”
Helen paused, before getting up and starting to gather the soup bowls. “We can save the cake for another time,” she muttered, heading through to the kitchen. “There's no point wasting it tonight.”
Left alone, Owen leaned back in his chair and sighed. For a moment, he listened to the faint ticking sound that could still be heard all around. Suddenly there was a faint bump, and he turned just as something metallic seemed to start grinding up through the gap in the farthest wall. After a few seconds, the sound stopped.
“Huh,” he muttered out loud. “Well I for one happen to think that this house is pretty goddamn cool.”
Chapter Seven
The front door swung open and Owen stepped out onto the dark porch. He looked around, and finally he spotted a dark figure sitting hunched at the top of the steps.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, making his way over.
When Jenna failed to answer, he sat next to her and stared out at the pitch darkness that surrounded the house. There wasn't an electric light anywhere to be seen, and the stars were strikingly clear above.
“Doesn't it feel good to get out of the city,” he continued finally, “and see the natural world? If you ask me, too many people spend their entire lives in a bubble of noise and frenzied activity. We could all do with listening to our quiet inner voices now and again, and you can't do that if the voice is drowned out. And the starts, I mean... Look up, honey. With all the light pollution in the city, you've probably never seen a view like this.”
He waited for a reply.
“Look up. Look at the stars.”
Again he waited, but Jenna failed to respond.
“Look up, honey.” He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don't the stars make you feel -”
Before he could finish, she flinched and pull away.
“I'm just trying to make you see the value of this place,” he continued. “Will you look up? For me? The stars are pretty awesome.”
He waited again. This time, he heard Jenna sighing.
“Listen, Jenna -”
“I've seen the stars,” she muttered. “I'm not blind.”
“You know what we should get? A telescope. I reckon -”
“My room reeks,” she said bitterly, still not looking at him. “That's why I'm out here. I'm not contemplating nature or marveling at the stars. My goddamn room stinks of... I don't know what, but it stinks of something.”
“Are you sure?”
Another sigh.
“Well, I'll take a look at it later,” he continued. “For now, just take a deep breath and enjoy a few lungfuls of clear, countryside air. It's good for you, you know.”
“Do you know what'd really be good for me?” she asked, finally turning to him. “Still being in the city. Still being at home. Hell, it'd be good for me to have a stable life where my father isn't running from creditors and lawyers all the goddamn time.”
“You're being a little unfair.”
“Mum hates it out here too. She's just too loyal to tell you what she really thinks.”
“Your mother's a very strong woman,” he replied, before pausing for a moment. “You're right. There are some people who are out to get me. They shouldn't be, but they are, and they're using every legal recourse at their disposal to hound, harass and -”
“Change the record, Dad.”
“I'm serious,” he continued. “I'm going to turn it around on them and crush them eventually, but it takes time to do that. They've got the full weight of the legal system behind them, but I'm going to find a way to strike back soon.” He paused again, looking out at the darkness. “I just have to duck and weave for a while,” he added. “Just for now. I'm in a mess, but you know what I always say, there's a way out of any situation. You just have to find it.”
“Is there a way out of this conversation?” Jenna asked, before getting to her feet and stomping back inside, leaving her father to sit alone on the porch.
“Can you try to be more positive?” he called after her. “For your mother's sake? Jenna? Even if you're annoyed at me, your mother would really appreciate -”
The door swung shut, leaving him sitting alone. Turning, he stared up at the blanket of stars.
“It's not forever,” he muttered to himself. “We won't be stuck in this place for too long, I swear.”
***
“You're right,” Helen said with a frown, standing in Jenna's bedroom, “there is a... I don't know, it's kind of...”
She paused, sniffing the air.
“I don't know how to describe it, it's like -”
“Foul,” Jenna suggested dourly, “rotten, putrid, disgusting, abhorrent, gross. Take your pick.”
“I don't think I've ever smelled anything like it.”
“My room stinks,” Jenna continued. “I can't sleep in here. There's just no way. I'm officially grossed out by the whole thing.”
“Maybe something died,” Helen suggested, heading across the room as she tried to locate the source of the strange, pungent aroma. “Like a mouse or somet
hing. After all, the place has been empty for so long, it wouldn't be that weird if some of the local wildlife had found its way inside.”
“I hate mice,” Jenna said with a sigh.
“Or a bird,” Helen added, trying to pull the bed away from the wall before finding that like most of the other furniture in the house, the frame was bolted to the floor. Getting down on her hands and knees, she peered under the bed instead.
“There's nothing under there,” Jenna told her. “I already looked. I'm not completely incapable. I've checked the entire room several times over and I can't find anything.”
“It seems a little stronger in this corner,” Helen pointed out. “I haven't noticed a smell anywhere else in the house.”
“Maybe it's the Cavendish family.”
“Who?” Helen asked, turning to her before sighing. “No, Jenna, that's not what it is. Come on, don't be ridiculous.”
“How do you know it's not them?” Jenna asked. “A family of three disappeared in this house seventy-five years ago, leaving nothing behind but a load of bloody smears. Maybe their rotting corpses are piled up in the basement, maybe they're buried under the floorboards.”
“I think someone would've noticed that by now.”
“Or maybe some weird-ass freak killed them, and he's still here now, and the stink is his piss-stained pants that he never washes.”
“Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?”
“So what is it?” Jenna asked. “Something's causing that awful smell.”
Crawling around the side of the bed, Helen followed her nose, trying to pinpoint the source of the persistent stench. After a moment, however, she realized she could still hear the constant ticking sound from behind the walls.
“What is that?” she muttered, leaning closer and pressing her ear against the wood.
“Are you seriously saying you can sleep with that noise going on?” Jenna asked.
“Your father's going to find out what's causing it.”
