by Hunter Shea
Dedication
For Mom and Dad. Thank you for the gift of life, a childhood spent watching scary movies and instilling a love of reading. Those double features of The Exorcist and A Clockwork Orange, star-filled nights in dark drive-ins and endless supply of paperbacks all served a much greater purpose in my life than anyone could have imagined.
For Amy. Without your love and support, the first step of this wondrous trek never gets taken.
Prologue
They screamed.
And impossible as it seemed, George Bolster was grateful for his family’s unbridled cries of terror as they masked the other unearthly sounds that ghosted their every move.
Whump. Whump. Whump.
The steady beat of an unseen giant’s footsteps up the stairs.
“Into the bedroom, now!” George shouted at his panicked wife and sons. They scrabbled into the room at the end of the hall while the floor quaked beneath their feet. Once inside, George slammed the door shut and braced his back against its oak frame. His sons, Cory and Matt, clung to Sharon’s sides, their eyes wide and terrified, darting around the room, looking for death in benign shadows.
“Sharon, push the dresser over.”
Stifling a sob that made her entire body shudder, she reluctantly pulled away from the boys and ran over to the large dresser. George grunted as the unseen force in the hallway pounded against the door.
“Hurry!”
Matt leapt to his mother’s side to help push the heavy piece of furniture across the floor and against the bedroom door. Cory, who was only six and barely forty pounds, could only curl up into a corner and whimper. A clap of thunder made the entire house quake and they all shrieked in unison. George still pressed his weight against the door while Sharon and Matt gathered as much bulk as they could find and piled it as high and as fast as they could on top of the dresser.
The door shook as it was rammed again and again, so hard that the arch above the doorway began to crack. It wouldn’t be long before the entire wall would collapse and then where could they go?
A deep thrumming emanated from beyond the door, a sonorous hum that was not so much heard as it was felt. It hurt like hell. They felt it vibrate their chest walls, disrupt the hammering rhythm of their hearts. It crept up their spines and exploded in their skulls, threatening to liquefy their brains.
So they screamed. Fighting fire with fire. The pile of debris stashed against the door shook as the pounding on the door continued. Staggering on jellied knees, George peered out the sole window into the moon-bathed woods outside. It was only a drop of twenty feet or so. Maybe, if he jumped first, he could catch them one at a time and they could run into the woods. But it was so damn cold, well below zero, and they didn’t have a coat between them. Could they possibly navigate their way through the snow-steeped forest to their nearest neighbor a mile away?
Suddenly, everything stopped. The pain ceased and they all dropped to their knees. What sounded like a thousand tiny claws ticked across the hardwood floor of the hallway, retreating to the other end and descending the staircase that lead to the living room below.
George shook his head and went back to the window.
“Is it gone, Daddy?” Cory whispered.
“I don’t know. Everyone stay quiet.”
He kept his eyes on the faintly illuminated yard and his ears tuned for any sounds within the house. Matt and Cory muffled their cries into their mother’s breast.
“What are you thinking?” Sharon mouthed.
George pointed out the window and used two fingers to simulate running. It was their only chance.
“George, we’ll freeze to death.”
One look from her husband ended any protest. Gently pulling the boys from her sides, she went over to the dresser and found two blankets, several pairs of sport socks and one wool hat. She worked in silence, wrapping the boys in the blankets and putting an extra pair of socks on their shoeless feet. Cory, being the youngest and frailest, got the hat.
George gathered his family by the window.
“I’m going to jump into the snow out there. Matt, I want you to go next, then Cory, then Mom. Once we’re all out, I want you to stick close and run as fast as you can. We’re going to try to make it to Glenn’s house.”
“But that’s really far and it’s so dark out,” Matt protested.
George hugged him and felt close to tears. “I know, little man, I know. But we have to get out of here, and Glenn’s house is the closest to us.”
“Maybe it’s gone away,” Cory said. They all looked towards the door. The entire house had been silent for almost five minutes now.
Sharon placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “It might not be a bad idea to wait a while and see.”
George wanted nothing more than to run like hell from his house. Freezing to death was a welcome option to the thing downstairs.
“I’m not sure—”
The floor exploded just five feet from where they sat as the assault recommenced, this time from below. A fist-sized hole opened up between the splintered wood. A maniacal rush of thrashing and clawing blasted from the fresh portal as the floor shook from repeated efforts to widen the gap.
“Everyone up!”
George threw the window up hard, shattering the glass. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jumped out into the cold night. He landed in a three-foot pile of snow that cushioned his fall. His right leg throbbed a little and his lungs hurt as he sucked in his first draft of frigid air.
“Okay, Matt, jump!” he shouted.
Sharon plucked her youngest son and aimed him into his father’s waiting arms. George caught him and they both fell back into the snow. He was back on his feet by the time Cory had himself perched on the windowsill. Cory looked back at his mother, afraid to leave her alone, even if it was only for a moment.
“Go, Cory. I’ll be right behind you.”
The opening in the floor grew wider as more shards of wood shot out of the hole like lava from a volcano. Cory sprang into the air and almost sailed past his father. After a quick tumble in the freezing snow, George was back up and waiting for Sharon.
Heavy moaning filled the room. Sharon lost control of her bladder. Something was trying to find purchase on the jagged edges of the hole. Something huge, black and evil.
“Sharon! Come on!” George and the boys were shouting to her from the yard. Momentarily mesmerized by creeping fear, she turned back to the window and placed a foot on the sill.
As she prepared to jump, a trio of shadows stretched from the trees like a sentient ink spill and engulfed her family. One second they were there, calling for her to jump, and the next instant they were gone as the shadows retreated back into the forest.
“Nooooooo!”
She never noticed the presence behind her.
Chapter One
Long Island, New York
The Islanders clinched their first playoff appearance in ten years and the weather man was declaring a winter weather advisory for the next morning. John Backman was less than thrilled with the thought of more winter weather, which meant shoveling sidewalks and scraping ice off windows, all before the commute to work. The wind was starting to pick up outside, so much so that the sound of their neighbor’s metal trash can lids skittering down the street shattered the otherwise peace and quiet of John’s picture-perfect suburban haven.
“Jesus, when will Ted learn to buy a plastic pail with lids that can be clamped down?”
All of the Islanders players were in a frenzied heap on the ice as the announcers proclaimed their victory by using every hackneyed expression known to sports. It was painfully apparent that after a decade of disappointment, the commentators were a tad rusty when it came to victory proclamations. Even tho
ugh the game was over and there were greater battles to be fought, ones that John was sure the Islanders would lose, he couldn’t bring himself to turn the channel. He wanted to bask in the vicarious glow of success for just a little while longer.
“Who do they play next?” Anne asked from behind her book. She was nestled in the easy chair beside him, both legs tucked under her rump instead of using the retractable footrest.
“They move on to Toronto,” he said rising from his own chair, footrest firmly locked in place. “I think I’m going to go high-five Jessica.”
“Don’t you dare. She’s sleeping quite comfortably.”
“She won’t even know I’m there. I promise, it’ll just be a little baby-five.”
Anne dropped her book onto her lap. “Is there any way I can stop you?”
John smiled. “Nope.”
“Then give me a kiss before you go in and tempt the sleep gods.”
She held out her hands and pulled him on top of her. They laughed while they kissed, hands expertly caressing each other’s hot spots. The laughter was quickly replaced by the sounds of soft moans as their kisses become more passionate. Anne’s heavy book hit the floor, breaking the spell.
“Hey, you made my pants tight,” John said.
“That was the idea,” Anne whispered as she gently stroked the growing bulge beneath his jeans.
“How about I go see our beautiful daughter and meet you in the master bedroom? You might want to light a candle or two and lose those clothes.” He gently pinched one of her nipples, eliciting a very sexy groan.
“Be quick about it,” she said before throwing him off her lap and dashing out of the living room.
John shut the TV off and quietly walked to Jessica’s room with a mile-wide smile. First the Islanders win the first round of the playoffs and now sex. What more could a guy want?
Jessica’s room was filled with the soft glow of a Winnie the Pooh night light plugged in by the doorway. A parade of children’s comic characters danced around the four walls. John’s friend Dwight was an artist who had volunteered to make every inch of the room a mural from a child’s dream. Jessica was fast asleep in her yellow footie pajamas. She had rolled over onto her stomach and her Pampered butt was up in the air. Her blanket lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the crib. John felt that familiar tingle that went up his spine and settled into his chest every time he spied on her sleeping.
One hand was tucked beneath her belly and the other was up near her mouth. She had obviously fallen asleep sucking her thumb, something that made him fear future orthodontist bills but he decided to hell with that, she looked too perfect to disturb.
He reached down to stroke her thin, light brown hair and she shifted her legs slightly. It took all his strength not to scoop her up into his arms. Instead, he covered her with her blanket, kissed her chubby cheek and gave her upturned butt a little pat.
“Remind me to have Dwight paint an Islanders logo some day,” he said softly and tiptoed out of the room.
Just down the hallway, his and Anne’s bedroom was dark except for the faint flickering of candlelight. The wind gusted outside and he heard more clattering of aluminum on sidewalk. He stepped quickly into the bathroom to make sure he looked respectable and his breath wasn’t offensive. He checked his dark beard, made sure there were no stray hairs that would jab at Anne’s tender skin. After a quick gargle of mouthwash and a brush through his hair, he practically ran into the bedroom. It had been almost three weeks since the last time they had made love. Juggling a new baby and their own careers usually left them both in a semi-coma before ten o’clock, even on the weekends. This was a welcome and much needed surprise.
“Somebody call for a dashing gigolo with the staying power of a porn star?” he said as he entered the room.
“I believe that would be me. Now take off your clothes and earn your money.”
Anne sat on the edge of the bed, gloriously naked and sporting a welcome look of lust in her eyes. She tugged his jeans down around his ankles while he pulled his shirt off. Most of the baby fat was gone but her breasts were still a cup size bigger than before the baby. Her nipples had even grown darker and larger, begging for his mouth to suck them.
“Now how about we—”
She pulled his erection into her mouth before he could even finish. Since he had forgotten to shut the bedroom door, he had to somehow keep the presence of mind not to moan too loud and wake the baby, a task made all the more difficult as she massaged his balls and dug her nails into his ass. Seconds before he thought there was no way he’d make it any further, Anne pulled away and flashed a devilish smile.
“Your turn,” she purred.
“With pleasure,” he said, dropping to his knees.
The phone started ringing just as he was kissing her inner thighs. He felt her body stiffen.
“Just ignore it,” he said.
She considered answering for brief a moment then pulled his head to her.
On the fourth ring, the voice of Anne’s mother stopped them in their tracks. She screeched into the answering machine with her grating Long Island twang that she knew full well they were home and to pick up the phone.
“You might as well get it because I’m done for the moment,” John said, slightly exasperated but still filled with optimism.
Anne left the room to pick up the phone in the living room. John rolled onto the bed cursing both Alexander Graham Bell and his mother-in-law. Five minutes later, Anne was back.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“For starters, she wanted our lottery numbers because she knows we never check them ourselves.”
“I don’t even know why I still play the damn thing.”
Anne plopped down next to him and smacked his ass. “Because you love me and want to buy me that mansion on the water in Spain.”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”
He pulled her close and kissed her neck. She wrapped a leg around his hips. He was midway down her navel when the baby started to cry. They both rolled their eyes in frustration.
“My turn?” John asked.
“You were up with her last night,” she said as she donned her robe. “I’ll take this shift.”
“Hurry back.” John yelled into his pillow as she left the room. Experience had taught him that she would not be back in a flash. At nine months old, Jessica could fight sleep with the best of them. He listened to Anne’s soothing voice as she lifted Jessica from the crib. Her cries were instantly muffled as Anne held their baby to her shoulder and gently rocked her tiny body.
John settled onto his side of the bed and grabbed a book from his night table. It was a lengthy volume on the rash of aerial phenomena in New York’s Hudson Valley region during the late 1980s. As far back as he could remember, he was fascinated with the unexplained. He’d read everything he could get his hands on when it came to UFOs, ghosts, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster and anything else that came on his favorite TV show, In Search Of. He was even lucky enough to have a father who would give him permission to stay up to watch The Night Stalker, a weekly program about a beat reporter on the trail of the monsters and vampires that lurked in the big city. When all the other boys his age wanted to be cops or firemen, John dreamed of being a reporter for a paranormal newspaper.
As John grew into adulthood, it became abundantly clear that there was little call for monster reporters, so he majored in sociology and ended up with a job working behind a computer at the phone company. No matter what his nine to five life was, he continued his pursuit of all things strange and unexplained. He had amassed hundreds of books on different topics and kept them specifically ordered in the spare bedroom. There were even a hundred or so video tapes of favorite documentaries and special exposes with titles like “The Ghosts of Gettysburg: Does The War Rage On?”.
Anne could not for the life of her figure out why a grown man would be interested in such things, but let him have his hobby so long as he didn’t start preaching to the
world about the coming alien invasion or ghosts in the attic. She was ever the pragmatist to his fantastical theorist. It was a combination that had worked for more than five years now, despite her mother’s predictions.
A half an hour into a case study on cemetery hauntings in Orange County and how they related to UFOs, Anne returned. He could tell by the look on her face that the heat of the moment had passed.
“She give you a tough time?”
Anne started to put on a pair of John’s pajamas. Apparently, she wasn’t even going to give him a chance to pick up where they left off. “As usual. Lord knows how long this silence will last. She’s really gassy tonight.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “How about a rain check? I’m beat and odds are I’ll just have to get up while we’re in the middle of everything.”
Before he could answer, she pulled the covers back, slid underneath them, blew out the candle on her night table and lay down to sleep. He was still sitting naked with a book on his lap, his mouth halfway open in stunned silence. He knew having a baby would crimp their love life but knocking it down to once or twice a month was more than he had bargained for. They had always had a healthy sex life before the baby. In fact, it was far better than average. He had been the envy of all his married friends. Now there were times, especially tonight, when he was beginning to feel that maybe she wasn’t interested anymore. Maybe she was using the baby as an excuse.
But then why the hell start everything so hot and heavy? How could she just turn it off like that? Sure, he wasn’t expecting her to return all jazzed up and ready to roll. He was perfectly willing to take the time to stoke the fires again.
Except she wasn’t. And it was becoming a problem.
“I guess that ends that,” he said, not bothering to hide the rising anger in his voice. Slamming the book down, he jerked up from the bed and stormed to the dresser to find his pajamas. Anne rolled over and sat up.
“You have a problem with my being tired?”
“I have a problem with you not wanting to even try to have sex.”
