The room felt like it became a little smaller.
Without saying anything more, Reed began to walk toward the mirror. “How does it do that?” he said, to no one in particular.
I stayed flatfooted where I was. That mirror was just a little too eerie for my taste in adventure. I took a step back out in the hallway, to make sure nothing was approaching us with evil intentions on its mind. Nothing was. The hall remained empty except for that box of old magazines. The microphone still balanced on its corner.
“Hey, look at this,” Reed said, an excitement in his tone that almost cracked his voice. A tone not of fear, but of total fascination.
I turned back into the room, hit Reed with my light, and gasped. Reed’s right arm extended halfway through the mirror. His face held a wide-grinned smile, as though he thought this was the neatest thing he ever witnessed.
“Get away from it,” I said coldly. Mirrors just didn’t do that sort of thing. They didn’t swallow up people’s arms.
Reed, as if to mock me, pushed his arm in a little farther.
“I said, get away from it,” I repeated, this time with more force, and more coldly.
Reed responded by pushing his arm in right up to the shoulder. And laughed. “We got to take this mirror back with us,” he said as he finally relented and started pulling his arm back out.
And stopped abruptly, with a jerk. The smile vanished from his face and was replaced with such an extreme expression of terror that no one would believe Reed had just been smiling only seconds before. Then Reed jerked forward a bit, into the mirror. Horrifyingly, the movement reminded me of a scene from the Jaws movie, when the shark first bites at the human victim, pulling him ever so slightly down into the water.
“Stephen,” Reed said, his voice shaking so much now from fear that he was barely understandable, “something has a hold of my wrist!”
Another jerk. Reed fell deeper into the mirror. His arm was almost back up to his shoulder again.
“Hey,” Reed cracked. And looked at me. His eyes held both terror and pleading. “Help me.”
I dropped my flashlight on the floor, its light bouncing around the room as it rolled aimlessly, and ran up to him. Before I could reach him, though, his body jerked yet another time, much harder than previously, and half his torso disappeared.
“Pull me out!” Reed shouted vehemently. “Pull me out!”
I grabbed onto his remaining visible arm--he still held tightly onto his flashlight as though it were the only remaining sign of sanity in his life--and I pulled back against whatever had him on the other side. The mirror reflected back what was left of Reed on the outside, making him look like a complete person, but with two heads. Nothing of what was transpiring behind the mirror was visible.
Upon my first tug, Reed came away from the mirror a little. But, as if whatever had him become angry, Reed immediately began going the other way. He held his head back, trying desperately to keep it from being sucked in. Whatever had him on the other side, however, was simply stronger than I was.
“Christ!” Reed yelled, now a hundred percent in terror for his life. “PULL ME OUT!”
And suddenly, at that moment, Reed was released by his tormentor. He came flying out of the mirror, falling to the floor at my feet, and right into my knees. I fell forward as Reed tumbled under me, cutting my legs out from beneath me. Accordingly, the upper half of my body fell forward right into the mirror. I saw my face reflecting back the horror I felt just before I went through. My expression only helped to add to my terror.
As soon as I hit the floor, I got up on my arms; and, crazily, not being able to think at all, looked for the monster I was sure was there. I wasn’t disappointed. A glowing man stood just before me, translucent, donning a torn pair of jeans and no shoes. His face held no shape, as no features were apparent--except for the empty sockets where his eyes should have been. Those sockets glared down at me, and I thought I could discern movement deep in those cavities. The movement of creepy things. The movement of things from a nightmare.
The face opened a bit, a crack appearing where the mouth should have been, and it laughed. And it reached down for me. I couldn’t move; I remained frozen with terror. The sound of its laughter was nothing I had ever heard before. It was the sound of complete and unadulterated evil.
Then, as the glowing arms were just about to grab me by my shoulders, something grabbed my feet--and yanked me out.
I snapped out of my paralysis and reached back at my ankles to fight off whatever new evil had a hold of me there.
“Hey, buddy, it’s me,” Reed said as I impulsively struck out at him, hitting him squarely in the jaw. He let go of me and stood. His eyes were balloons of terror.
“Reed,” was all that came out of my mouth, as my mind finally caught up to the events.
“What the fuck is in there?” he asked, looking back into the mirror, unconsciously rubbing his chin. “Did you hear that thing?”
“Just run,” I said. “Get out of here!” Or least I tried to say it. What actually came out of my mouth was a grunt followed by a high-pitched screech. But I was sure Reed had received my message anyway. His footsteps and breathing followed on my heels as I ran out of the room and back down the hallway.
An ominous laugh resounded behind us, coming from the room with the mirror. A laugh that definitely wasn’t human. It was as if the sounds were coming at us from the depths of a bottomless pit. Miles away, yet right behind us.
We passed the recorder, not even thinking for a second about slowing to pick it up, and headed down the stairs. I jumped, hoping to land about half the distance down to the first floor, but only managed to trip when my leading foot hit a step and twisted. My entire body launched forward, almost as if I had been catapulted off a trampoline. I landed on the fifth step and tumbled the remainder of the way to the floor below. Reed grabbed me by my right arm and yanked me back to my feet as he ran by me. I stumbled after him, not yet feeling the pain of the bruises that were already darkening my skin in several places.
“This way.” Reed choked out the words ahead of me, standing by the window that we had entered. “Give me a boost. Quickly!”
The laughter echoed behind us again; though this time from the top of the stairs.
I bolted up to Reed, almost tripping over a loose floorboard, but managed to maintain my balance. Reed was pulling himself up as best as he could, and I simply grabbed on to the soles of his Nikes and flung him right over the sash and out the window. Without breaking my motion upward, I grabbed onto the sash and pulled myself up.
A door slammed somewhere upstairs, followed by giggling. Children? my mind thought wildly. Was that the giggling of small children?
“Help me, Reed,” I croaked, as I hadn’t the strength to pull up the weight of my body. I frantically looked back over my shoulder, not actually wanting to see if something was there, but to see how close that something was behind me. Two white amorphous shapes stood at the top of the stairs. They were only about three feet in length, though one was slightly taller than the other. No features were apparent in the translucent whiteness. Giggling sounds came from them again, and they started down the steps--floating, almost gracefully.
A burst of adrenaline struck me like a mallet, and I pulled myself high enough to rest my waist on the window sill. Reed, at the same time, grabbed me and yanked me out of the window and into the weeds below. The sudden impact of landing squarely on my back only managed to knock the wind out of me.
I looked up and Reed had already covered half the distance to the bikes, and I, wildly, struggled to my feet, gasping to replace the air to my lungs, and ignoring the pain. A slight white glow shined on the grass beneath. I didn’t need to look up at the window above me to know what was there.
Sprinting to my bike, I could almost feel something reaching for my neck, only inches away. I forced myself not to look back, insanely remembering what my track coach had told me about how that only made the runner lose ground. As I reached
my bike, I yanked it out of the weeds and onto the highway, its tires flailing madly in the air as I landed on the seat at the same time they hit the pavement.
The laughter, again the thought that it didn’t sound at all human hit me, came from the house. I didn't, however, look back until I almost covered a quarter of a mile down the county trunk. When I did, the glowing forms weren’t visible. The house, in the moonlight, looked perfectly normal.
Reed was waiting for me in front of the parking lot in front of the tavern, on the edge of the highway. His eyes still held that same glint of horror that first appeared when he was jerked a bit into the mirror.
“Did you see that?” I asked, skidding my bike to a rest next to his, as I looked back down the highway. Only moonlight reflected off the pavement.
“I didn’t see nothing,” Reed replied. “I heard those noises. But I didn’t see nothing.” He shook his head, as if to ward off mosquitoes. “Man, was that close.”
“You didn’t see them?” I asked. “You didn’t see the ghosts?”
“I didn’t see nothing.”
CHAPTER EIGHT:
Dark Nights
The grandfather clock behind the couch read a dismal five minutes to midnight by the time I finished the story. "Oh, I'm sorry," I said to the speechless faces surrounding me. "I didn't mean to take up so much of the evening. Guess I got a little involved in the details, huh?"
My companions remained resoundingly silent, staring blankly at me as if they hadn't heard what I just said.
"Come on, you guys," I persisted. "Say something."
Melissa was the first to speak: "Did you and Reed ever go back?" Her eyes were wide, penetrating. I had done a good job in frightening her. It would be a small miracle if she, as well as Tabby, didn't have nightmares all evening long.
"As a matter of fact," I replied, rather uneasily, "we went back the following afternoon. To pick up the recorder."
“You mean to tell me you actually went back into that house after what you had seen just the night before?" Tabby asked.
Sly simply shook his head slightly, smiled, and winked. He, obviously, didn't believe a word of my story.
“Reed wanted to, not me," I replied to Tabby's question. "He had to beg me to go with him, and, at first, I refused vehemently. 'We need to get the tape recorder and the flashlights,' he argued. He finally left on his own, but as I watched him pedal away, I knew I couldn't let him go out to Wickerman's by himself. So I caught up to him on my bike and we both headed on our way.
"We climbed through the same window we had the night before. The house looked so different in the daylight--not at all frightening. The tape recorder was right where we had left it, intact. Being so near to that room just down the hallway, I grabbed the recorder and started back out of the house. Reed, however, had other plans. 'We need to get the flashlights,' he said, stopping me. 'We can buy new ones,' I argued. 'Let's get the hell out of here.'
"'Just wait there for me, then,' he pleaded. I could tell he was just as scared as I was of that room, but he wanted too much to get another look at that mirror. He turned away from me and walked right through the open door of that room and disappeared. Almost immediately some sort of friendship instinct kicked in and I proceeded after him.
"Reed was standing by the mirror as I turned into the room, touching the glass of the mirror. 'It's solid,' he said, with almost a tone of bitterness. He insisted that we remove the mirror from the wall and take it home with us. But it wouldn't budge, almost as though it was part of the wall instead of just hanging from it. After about ten minutes of trying to squeeze our fingers into cracks that weren't there, I finally convinced Reed to leave it be for now. 'We can't get it back on our bikes, anyway,' I said. He pulled on the edge of the mirror one last time, with all his might, and failed. It just wouldn't budge. ‘All right,' he relented finally. 'But we come back for her soon.' I agreed without further debate, mostly because I just wanted to get the hell out of there. We picked up our flashlights from the floor, and left.
"As soon as we got back to his garage, we rewound the tape recorder and played it back. Everything was on it: Reed yelling for help as he was being sucked into the mirror, our footsteps in retreat, and even the laughing sounds. The tone of that laughter had been just like I heard it the night before--not at all human."
Sly stood and straightened out his pants legs. "Well," he said, chuckling under his breath. "If it's not an inconvenience to any of you, I think I'm going to retire for the evening." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Good story, though. Maybe you should--"
The chime of the grandfather clock cut him off. It was now exactly midnight.
Tabitha stood, yawned and stretched. "I'm going to hit the hay, too," she said, after the clock had finished.
Melissa remained glued to her seat next to me as Sly and Tabitha disappeared upstairs, leaving the two of us alone for the first time. We sat in silence for a minute, as if we didn't need to talk right then. Reed had come alive for her for a short time, because of my story, and I thought Melissa was probably soaking it all in.
Finally, she turned to me, her eyes seeming to penetrate mine. They were green, not dark but a very light shade--almost gray. "Did you ever go back for it? The mirror, I mean."
"Reed went back for it," I replied, breaking away from those eyes. I rubbed my leg absentmindedly. The pain and throbbing had almost made their exits, but I knew it would be woefully stiff in the morning. "He didn't tell me he was going. But he came back empty handed. The mirror had disappeared."
Another bout of silence followed between us. At length Melissa said, "I hope you have a lot more stories about Reed." A smile broke across her face. "Because I sure do like the way you tell them."
"We have plenty of time before I leave town," I replied. I, all of a sudden, felt happy and sad at the same time. Happy, of course, because I was going to be spending part of my vacation with Melissa. But sad, too, because it would only be for a week.
"You going to bed?" she said as she stood. "I'll help you up the stairs if you are."
"I'm a late-to-bed, late-to-rise type of person," I replied. "You go ahead. I'm sure I'll manage."
"Positive?"
I nodded. "OK, then. Good night." She walked to the stairway, and stopped. "See you after I get off work tomorrow," she added, turning back around to face me. "Maybe they'll even let me off early."
And then I was alone.
I sat, enjoying the silence, and went over in my mind what I wanted to do during the upcoming week. This so-called "vacation" had started as a trip here for a funeral. Mrs. Klaus had definitely turned things around for me--for all of us. And this is all happening too fast, I thought. I couldn't get it out of my mind that Mrs. Klaus was being too trusting. Of course, she knew all our names, and, if we did rip her off or trash her home, she'd be able to tell the police all about us in a second. Still, it bothered me that she wanted us to stay here. Didn't she know anyone else to ask for help? Where was her ex-husband, and why wouldn't he check out the mansion? No father would allow his daughter to live in any sort of danger. I'd have to track him down tomorrow and ask him about it.
Picking the remote off the end table next to the couch, I turned on the television set. The channels clicked off one after the other as I tried to find anything interesting. I came to a Night Gallery episode and left the channel there. Some guy was lying in a refrigerated room, surviving only because he kept his body cool. Meanwhile, the electricity in the building went out, and his cooling system followed suit. If he didn't find an alternative source of refrigeration soon, he would die.
I heard someone coming down the stairs and turned to see Melissa approaching me. She wore a night robe and slippers. Her hair was slightly messed, as though she had been tossing in bed for a little while.
"Couldn't sleep," she said as she sat next to me on the couch. "It's all right if I keep you company for a bit, isn't it?"
"I'd even prefer it," I replied. I caught her up on what had happened thu
s far on Night Gallery, and we watched the ending in silence. The guy died in his bathtub after decaying away for most of the evening. His neighbor forces her way into his apartment, wanting to help him, but only discovered his rotted body. Rod Serling appeared, said a few final words about the theme, the credits rolled, and a commercial followed.
"Interesting concept," Melissa reflected out loud. "The possibilities of keeping alive at all costs. Why can't some people just accept the fact that we cannot live forever?"
"Some people just have too much of a passion for life to give it up," I replied. "They feel cheated."
"Reed had a strong passion for life." She was silent for a time. Then, at length, she added, "Wherever he is right now, he's probably angry."
I didn't say anything in reply. What could I possibly reply to that? Anything I could say would only sound placating.
So, I just sighed uncomfortably and stretched my bad leg.
"How is it?" Melissa asked. Her eyes were not on my leg like I expected, but on my face. It startled me a bit, seeing those beautiful green eyes almost searching my own. Maybe Sly's insinuation was truer than I previous thought it to be. Maybe I was becoming attracted to Reed's girlfriend.
"Not too bad," I replied, looking away. "Shouldn't be more than a day or two before I have full use of it again. At least, I hope so, anyway."
Again there was a space of silence. The only sound was that of the grandfather clock. I felt almost as though I were on a first date with someone I hardly knew; I couldn't think of anything appropriate to say.
Then, as if the gods themselves wanted to mock us, a door slammed from somewhere down the west wing. Melissa had been leaning deep into the couch, but bolted upright when she heard the noise. “Just the wind," I said, to put her, and maybe even myself, at ease. "Happened once when I was here alone earlier. I'll go check it out, though."
Melissa grabbed my wrist. "You're not leaving me sitting here alone," she said. "I'm going with you."
The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville Page 12
