“The door closes easily and needs the house keys to unlock. If you became trapped in here, you probably wouldn’t be found in time.” May’s long fingers caressed the heavy metal door that divided the stairwell from the room. She smiled.
She’s going to lock us in. Tara’s fear swelled into panic. She felt for Kyle’s hand and squeezed his trembling fingers. Get ready to run.
“You’re curious children.” May exhaled, and her hands dropped off the walls. “I realised this morning that I’ve let you explore all around our house but haven’t warned you about the bunker’s risk. What would I do if I lost you? How could I survive if you were hurt because of my negligence?” She looked at Tara, and the awful placid expression had been replaced with real human concern. “I’m showing you this so that you know not to play in it. No matter how tempting cubbyholes are, this one is too dangerous. All right?”
“All right,” Tara croaked.
May turned back to the stairs. “You’re good children. Let’s go back indoors. I’ll bake you some sugar biscuits.”
18
Eyes in the Dark
Tara sat up in bed with her knees tucked under her chin. Kyle slept, but his face kept twisting as dreams disturbed his rest. The alarm clock read just after two in the morning. She’d been listening for close to forty minutes, but the only noises were the animal screams echoing from the woods and the creak of old wood shifting in the breeze.
This is my best chance. She slipped her feet over the edge of the bed. It was a cold night, and her hairs rose as she went to the door and looked out.
The hallway was empty. Moonlight flooded through the window at one end, its glow lighting up the wooden floor. Tara crossed to the stairs then eased her way down them as slowly and carefully as she could. The boards groaned. Tara clenched her teeth with each creak, but when she reached the landing, the rest of the house remained quiet.
The kitchen looked strangely surreal at night. The curtains were drained of their pastel colour as they fluttered in the wind. The furniture sent long shadows stretching up the walls, and the ticking clock in the hallway sounded unnaturally loud.
Tara went to the sink and reached for the wicker basket hidden on the shelf above. It was heavy, but when she pulled it down, she found it was full of spoons. Frowning, she sifted through the cutlery then worried at her lip as she tucked the basket back on its shelf. May moved the phones. But where?
Tara turned in a circle then began opening drawers as quietly as she could. The kitchen impressed her with how carefully it had been arranged; all of the cupboards and drawers were packed immaculately. None held the missing phones.
A floorboard creaked above her head, and Tara froze. She held her breath as she waited for the noise to repeat, then, when it didn’t, she slunk into the hallway.
If I were May, where would I hide the mobiles?
She ran her hands through her hair, afraid that the answer might be something she would never think of, then chose to start in the family room. She searched around the dusty bookshelves, through the desk’s drawers, and even around the lounges’ cushions.
Another floorboard creaked. Tara straightened, her heart thundering. The noise had come from the direction of the stairs. Had she woken May or Peter, after all?
Tara began creeping backwards. Another board groaned, this time, in the hallway. Tara, her breath shallow, reached the curtains beside the window. She pressed into the space behind them, hoping the poor light would help make her invisible.
Shuffling footsteps moved through the hallway. They reached the room’s open door and paused. Tara squeezed her eyes closed, her pulse thundering so loudly that she was sure the figure in the doorway would hear it. Then the footsteps continued down the hallway. The door creaked as it opened. Then, a second later, it clicked shut again.
Tara pulled air into her starving lungs. She felt dizzy from stress but didn’t dare move from her hiding place. She turned her head to look through the window in case the person came around the house’s corner.
They didn’t, but motion drew her eyes to the big tree near the front of the house. The old, weather-worn swing moved in long, slow arcs. Tara’s heart froze as she glimpsed the outline of a small boy sitting in it, his legs moving in time with the swing as moonlight flashed off his eyes. Tara blinked. The swing was empty, but it continued to move in the wind.
Tara crept out from the shelter of the curtains. As valuable as the phones were, she only wanted to return to the security of her room. She crept to the hallway and back up the stairs, keeping her feet light, and drew a relieved breath as she gently nudged the bedroom door open.
The bed was empty. Tara’s relief crashed into dread. She rounded the bed in case Kyle had fallen into the stack of books beside it, but there was no sign of him. Premonition drew her to the window.
A small, lone figure crossed the lawn. Moonlight shone off Kyle’s mousy hair as his shadow, unnaturally long, wavered behind him.
Tara muttered quick, furious words under her breath as she pulled her shoes out from under the bed and tugged them on. He must be sleepwalking. We made a promise to stick together. I shouldn’t have left him.
She stopped in the hallway and faced May’s room. Half of her mind said she needed to wake her grandmother. The other half insisted it would be safer if it was just her and Kyle. She squeezed her lips together and turned away without making a noise.
There wasn’t time to be overcautious on the stairs. Tara could only try to stick to the edges and grimace at the noise. She reached the hallway and raced for the door.
Cold air hit her as she stepped outside. She took only a second to cushion the door’s swing so that it wouldn’t slam then turned and began running across the lawn.
The swing continued to move in slow, steady arcs. Now that she was outside, she could hear the noise; the rope created a low, hoarse creak as it shifted against the ancient branch. Tara gave it a wide berth.
Kyle had already disappeared into the forest. Multiple paths led into the woods in that section of the clearing, and Tara hadn’t seen which one he’d taken. She flexed her fingers as she glanced between them, hoping one might give her a hint about which direction her brother had gone.
This morning, he walked into the woods while sleepwalking. He said he was going towards the lake. She took a guess at the correct direction and plunged into the forest.
The light was too poor to make out anything except vague shapes. Tara had to squint at the ground to make out the worn path and any protruding tree roots or hollows. Unlike the trail leading to the gravestones, the path to the lake seemed worn and compacted with use.
A branch crunched to her right. Tara froze and peered through the trees. She couldn’t see Kyle’s blue pyjamas. She kept moving.
Branches snagged at her clothes and scratched her exposed arms and face. Every few metres, the canopy cleared enough for patches of light to dapple the forest floor. Insects hummed around her, and a bat screamed as it burst out of a hollow trunk. Tara risked wetting her lips. “Kyle?”
The silence was damning. She quickened her pace, eyes fixed on the ground and hands outstretched to protect her face from branches. Cold sweat coated her, sticking her pyjamas to her skin and racking shivers down her back.
Another branch cracked behind her. Fear thrummed through Tara, with harsh doubt following in its wake. What if Kyle wasn’t following a path? When he woke, he wouldn’t know which direction to follow to get home. How many days could he wander the forest without water? One? Two?
“Kyle!” Her voice was raspy and cracked. “Kyle, answer me!”
Leaves rustled. She thought she heard an exhale, but when she turned, she was alone. Tara squeezed her hands into fists and willed her eyes to stay dry. She increased her pace to a jog.
The trees thinned. Shimmering water stretched ahead of her. It looked almost magical, like a sheet of diamonds undulating in the wind. The only dark shape was the pier stretching over the water… and the small figure walking
towards its end.
“Kyle!” Tara broke into a run. She was breathless and shaking, but she forced her legs to move faster and faster as she raced Kyle to the end of the pier. He moved as though he were dazed, rocking with each step and unresponsive to his name. He reached the end of the pier and continued walking, one foot extending over the inky, diamond-speckled water. Tara’s fingers snagged the back of his pyjama top, and she wrenched him back.
They both hit the wooden dock. Tara, winded, kept her grip on Kyle as she tried to catch her breath.
“Wha—” Kyle’s eyes widened as he blinked up at the night sky. Panic infused his voice. “Where are we? How… What…”
“Sleepwalking,” Tara gasped then gave his shoulder a soft punch. “You jerk. You gave me a heart attack.”
He sat up, his tousled hair falling in his eyes. He looked at the water then at the forest behind them and wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered. “How’d I even remember the way here?”
“Beats me. You’re welcome, by the way.” Tara rubbed her hands over her face. Her heart beat so quickly, it hurt, and her hands were shaking. But being released from fear’s grip was almost euphoric. She reached up and patted Kyle’s shoulder as he continued to stare around them. “We should go back to the house.”
“Yeah.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. Tara looked up at the stars. There were so many compared to the city’s skyline. It was almost a mirror of the sparkling water below them. The lake lapped at the pier’s supports, making a gentle slapping noise against the wood. A cold wind raced over her skin. She shivered and finally stood. “C’mon. I’m freezing.”
Kyle still didn’t budge. His round eyes stared over the water, and Tara thought he’d fallen back into the trance. Then she saw what he was fixated on, and her heart skipped a beat.
A girl floated under the water. Her dark hair spread out behind her like a halo, her arms spread wide, her head turned towards the sky. Her pale nightdress seemed to trail behind her for meters before fading into the water.
Kyle’s hand found Tara’s arm and squeezed hard enough to hurt. She stared at the figure floating so peacefully. Then the girl turned her head towards them, and her eyes, stained black, fixed on them.
“Go,” Tara hissed, tugging Kyle with her as she backed off the pier. “Go, go, quickly.”
Anna, Peter’s drowned sister, opened her mouth as though she wanted to speak, but only two tiny bubbles drifted out. She began to drift upwards, her body moving closer and closer to the lake’s surface.
Tara and Kyle reached solid ground, and Tara pushed her brother towards the pathway leading into the woods. She kept her attention fixed on the water as she followed, afraid to look away but equally afraid of seeing more. As she reached the forest’s edge, she caught sight of a hand stretching over the edge of the pier and landing on the wood. The drowned girl dragged herself up the structure, water pouring from her as she fixed hopeless black eyes on Tara.
Then the trees hid Anna from sight. Tara was grateful. She didn’t want to see how far the girl would follow. She kept one hand holding onto Kyle’s sleeve and the other reached ahead of her as they raced through the woods. Their ragged breathing and the crash of undergrowth being crushed were all she could hear for several minutes. Then Kyle slowed and eventually came to a stop, doubled over and gasping.
“Stitch,” he managed between breaths.
“Okay.” Tara leaned against a tree, winded and shaking. “Man, we are so unfit.”
He laughed, but his eyes were shining with tears. “Are we far from home?”
“Dunno.” She scanned the trees but didn’t recognise any of them. “Probably not far.”
An owl called from somewhere behind them, and its mournful note hung in the air. Kyle straightened, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
A twig cracked behind them. Tara turned, skipping her eyes over the shadowed trunks and the darkness between them. She swallowed and nudged Kyle towards the path. It’s nothing. Don’t let it freak you out.
“Hey,” Kyle whispered. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Something moved over there.”
Tara followed his pointing finger. There was something between the trees; dappled moonlight hit its shoulder as she shifted. Tara’s heart flipped unpleasantly. She followed the shoulder towards a broad, tan face, flattened ears, and two huge, amber eyes.
The mountain lion held her gaze for a split-second then slunk forward, ghosting between the trees like a silent phantom. It was massive. Tara had always imagined cougars were only a bit bigger than a wolf—but the beast dwarfed her. The twitching whiskers were longer than her hand. White teeth glistened as its lips pulled back. Its wide eyes, bright and eager, focussed on Tara. The paws were as large as her head. And with each step forward, it moved a little faster, first walking, then trotting. Finally, it broke onto the path at a gallop.
Tara reacted on instinct. She leapt back and raised her hands to protect her face. Her feet bumped into a tree root and pulled her balance away. She hit the ground. The round golden eyes never left her as the cougar, as silent and sleek as the night wind, leapt.
Kyle shrieked. Tara felt the paws hit her chest, their weight phenomenal, but then they bounced away. Motion blurred in front of her, then Kyle stood between her and the cougar. He swung a branch at the beast like a sword.
“Get out of here!” Kyle’s screams were raucous from fear. “Stupid cat! Go, go!”
The cougar froze, its ears perked as it assessed the boy. It took a step forward. Kyle didn’t back off. Instead, he charged the cougar, swatting the branch at it, bellowing an incoherent yell. The cat’s ears pressed onto its head, and it moved two paces back, tail twitching frantically. Again, it hesitated.
“Go!” Kyle yelled.
A hissing rumble reverberated out of the cougar’s chest. Then it turned and vanished back into the woods, its movements as smooth and silent as they had been during the approach.
Kyle held his stance for a second, feet braced and branch held high. Then he sagged and turned back towards Tara. His face was ashen.
She pressed a hand over her mouth as she stared at the boy in front of her. Kyle the coward. Kyle, who never seemed to leave his fantasy worlds. Kyle, who still needed a nightlight and cried during thunderstorms. He’d charged a cat that was at least three times his size… and won.
Terrified tears shone on his cheeks as he let the branch drop. His mouth twitched into a wobbly smile, then he held out his arms and ran to Tara. The hug was tight enough to force the air from her lungs.
“Okay?” he mumbled. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She hugged him back, shivering and nauseous, laughing with relief. “That was amazing. And stupid. But mostly amazing.”
He laughed too, but it held a note of hysteria. Tara held him close, unwilling to let go. She only pulled back when the sound of crashing footsteps made their way through the shock. A familiar voice yelled, “Children!”
Tara turned to Kyle. “They heard us.”
19
Justification
Peter reached them first. The loose pants and shirt were obviously his pyjamas, but their casualness was undermined by the rifle cradled in the nook of his arm. When he saw them, he slowed to a halt and scanned the forest. “Either of you hurt?”
“No,” Tara said, but May’s frantic cry drowned out her answer. The older woman dropped to her knees and pulled them both into a hug.
“My children,” she gasped, running shaking fingers over Tara’s hair. “Please, please not my sweet children.”
Tara frowned. “We’re okay. Everything’s fine. It was a cougar, but Kyle chased it off.”
May leaned back far enough to examine their faces, and Tara was shocked to see tears running down her wrinkled cheeks. Warm hands cupped Tara’s face then ran over Kyle’s hair. “Thank mercy.” She smiled, but the expression was shaky. “You terrified me. I thought… I—”
Peter stalked back to stand at her side and squeezed her shoulder. He was breathing heavily, but his expression was placid. “Best get them back to the house, May.”
“Yes.” Relief chased the fear out of her voice. “Back inside, where it’s safe. I’ll make you something warm to drink. My poor darlings.”
She held their hands as they followed Peter down the path. He kept his rifle cocked over one arm, his head sweeping from side to side as he watched for motion. If the cougar was lingering nearby, it didn’t show itself.
Tara was still shaking. She kept sneaking glances at Kyle. While he obediently held his grandmother’s hand, his face had an odd expression. He didn’t meet her looks.
May let them go once they were inside the house. She ushered them into the kitchen while Peter left his rifle beside the front door and disappeared up the stairs.
“We’ll make it nice and cosy,” May said as she pulled a saucepan out of a cabinet and poured milk into it. “Peter’s gone to put the heater on. You two must be freezing.”
Tara was cold, but she didn’t answer. May hurried around the room, her long white nightdress and grey hair flowing behind her as she turned on lights and heated the milk. Peter returned, carrying thick quilts and slippers. He dropped the slippers by Kyle, whose feet were still bare, and May wrapped the blankets around Tara’s and Kyle’s shoulders.
“Coffee,” he grunted to May.
“It will be ready in a minute.”
Tara tried to catch Kyle’s attention, but his eyes were fixed on the table as a frown creased his forehead.
Peter took his place at the head of the table and rubbed his hands over his face. He blew out a groaning breath. “What the hell were you two doing outside?”
“Don’t scold them,” May said pleasantly and tapped his shoulder as she moved past. “They’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”
Peter continued to frown, so Tara cleared her throat. “Kyle was sleepwalking.”
The Folcroft Ghosts Page 10
