The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville

by Brian L. Blank

  I quickly--and as silently as I could--pulled the couch out a few feet from the wall and jumped behind it. Just as I ducked my head down, the first threesome entered the living room. I hadn't pulled the couch quite far enough from the wall, and the added pressure of my body pushed it out about another inch. The legs squeaked briefly on the wooden floor causing my heart to slam hard in my chest.

  I forced myself to peer over the top of the couch to see if I had just given away my position, hoping it was dark enough inside the house now to conceal me, and to see exactly what my unexpected guests were up to. The first group of three continued into the living room a little way and stopped. So far, at least, it appeared as though I managed to escape their notice. Yet, I wished they would start conversing with one another again, so their own noises could cover the sound of my heavy breathing. And I was sure the beating of my heart was loud enough to be heard even upstairs. But they remained silent and stood where they were as the second group of three made their way into the living room. My vision was gradually adjusting. From what I could make out in the darkness, they appeared to nod to one another, as if saying a polite hello.

  The two groups moved closer to me, about ten feet away now, as another group joined them from outside. I changed my view to the side of the couch near the corner of the room to watch them. No one as of yet had looked in my direction. They all kept staring at the doorway, as though expecting some star of the show to enter soon. I heard more footsteps moving up the porch stairs outside, and another group of three entered the house. During the next fifteen minutes I watched silently, my neck cramping from my unnatural position behind the couch, as more and more groups of three filled the living room. I quit watching after a while, as no longer was it safe to stick out my forehead. I did, however, peek around the edge of the couch every minute or so to see what they were up to. Even though no one spoke or decided to check out what might be hiding behind the couch, I was sure I would be discovered any second. I tried desperately to come up with a fail-safe plan in case they did discover me, but nothing I could possibly say or do would explain my position. If I could have snuck out and mingled among them like I belonged there, I would have tried it. But popping out from behind the couch would be unexplainable and completely noticeable.

  In the second to last group of three that entered Wickerman's living room, I finally recognized a friendly, or what I hoped to be friendly, face. My old grade school teacher, Miss O'Bannon, or whatever her new married name was, walked calmly and silently into the living room and joined the increasing crowd. A few other faces did look familiar, but I couldn't quite place them. Anyway, I breathed a little bit more easily with Miss O'Bannon present. If I were discovered, she would vouch for me--and protect me. I hoped.

  A murmur came over the crowd, now about thirty to thirty-five persons, as if in anticipation of someone's arrival. My hunch proved correct a minute later as they hushed up quickly upon the arrival of a single person. Night by now had become complete, so I couldn't right away make out who--or what--it was, but I did discern that it carried something large in its arms, shaped like a limp human body. People backed away from this new arrival, almost as if frightened by him. It stepped through the crowd and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Now, even in the darkness, I could see who it was. Randy Beliwitz stepped backward up the first stair and faced the crowd with the limp, dead body of Ann in his arms.

  He didn't say anything but just stood, overseeing the crowd for a minute. I had to stretch out around the corner of the couch just a few inches more to see what he was up to. Why he was here, and why he brought Ann, and exactly what had happened to her was beginning to become clear to me.

  Randy turned and walked slowly up two more steps, and stopped once more to face the crowd. He turned his head suddenly in my direction, and I knew he was staring right at me. If I had ducked back quickly, he would have noticed my movement for sure. Though I wouldn't have thought it possible, my heart banged even harder in my chest than before. And I had just begun to feel slightly relaxed.

  The darkness concealed me from him; I prayed that was true, anyway.

  Randy only looked in my direction for a few seconds before transferring his attention back to the crowd below him. If he indeed had spotted me, he made no comment of the fact. And I assured myself he would have at this point if he had.

  He nodded once to the crowd, and slowly turned around and climbed up the stairs. The rest of the groups formed a double line and followed--almost religiously, like animals climbing into the ark right before the big rain. I was about to duck back under the complete cover of the couch when what happened next forced me to look on. The darkness had to have been playing tricks on my eyes, for they all seemed to float up the stairway. They didn't appear to be bending their knees, as they should have been for ascent. I shook my head and leaned back on my heals. I couldn't be seeing things correctly. The fear in my brain had disorganized the gray cells once again. That was all.

  I sighed quietly. What I must be witnessing here, I thought, was some kind of funeral or religious rite for--for whatever they were. I mentally nodded. If that were the case, then all of them might be here at Wickerman's tonight. And that would mean Reed was here. And with him would be . . .

  Couldn't think of that now. Had to keep my thoughts focused.

  I envisioned Sly, upstairs, and in their pathway. I could only hope he knew they were coming up and had taken shelter.

  Peering over the top of the couch to see if they had all made their ascent up the stairs, I spotted one of them left behind. Her back was to me for a minute, but she turned slowly around, as if surveying the room, and her face became visible. It was Miss O'Bannon. I ducked back down and looked from under the couch. Her feet continued to turn until they faced my direction. She hesitated in that position for a few seconds, and then continued her circling. Her feet rose a few inches above the floor, this time I was positive I saw it, and she moved toward the staircase. I popped up over the couch top and watched her in fascination until she disappeared at the top of the steps.

  My entire body relaxed, and I hadn't realized just how tense I had become. "Be all right up there, Sly," I whispered to myself, and at the same time hoping God was listening. For I felt for sure now that we needed His assistance in whatever lay ahead of us tonight.

  I waited behind the couch for a couple of minutes, breathing deeply, trying to gain back control of my senses. No sounds came from upstairs. No creaking of the floorboards with all that weight up there, and no yelling from my partner in this misadventure. And I was quite sure Sly would give them a cacophonous struggle if they found him. Yet, the total lack of sound, other than the gusting wind outside and the distant banging of the barn door, seemed too eerie.

  Taking one more deep breath and holding it, I crawled out from behind the couch; though my body fought to stay there the remainder of the evening. I stood and stretched my leg muscles, which had cramped slightly--and ached more than slightly. I listened intently one more time for any movement upstairs to give away their position, but heard, once again, only the wind outside and the continuous slamming of the barn door. Shaking my head in disbelief at what I was about to do, I walked first to the front porch to make sure no one was arriving late to tonight's festivities. Even though I hit a loose floorboard almost every step I took, I felt confident I wouldn't be overhead upstairs above the wind. Upon reaching the porch and seeing the open door in front of me, I had to fight the urge to jump down the steps and run full speed back to the Country Bar and Grill--and sanity. And if Sly hadn't been upstairs, I knew I might have left Melissa behind--for now--and come back in the morning with an unbeatable army. But the fact remained that Sly was upstairs, and his whole idea of the two of us separating now came into play. My role was to save his Godforsaken ass.

  And Melissa was here somewhere. That I was now sure of.

  I stepped outside for a minute to take in the fresh night air and clear my head as much as possible under the circumstances. The wes
tern horizon was jet black; night now ruled with an iron fist. I could make out edges and shapes, though, as the crescent moon overhead smiled wide enough to give off some much appreciated light. Yet, somehow, everything around me appeared as if coming through a dream. Not totally real. Tonight wasn't really happening.

  Somewhere in the forest an owl hooted twice, as if to mock my last thought. The wind had lessened again, but the barn door from around the back of the house still banged its methodical beat.

  "What do I do now, Mr. Owl?" I whispered into the wind. "Shine some of your unfathomable wisdom down onto me." But the owl was silent. Brainstorm an idea by yourself then, you fool. But what?

  There wasn't all that much to think about. I had to climb those stairs and see for myself what the hell was going on. After that, I would just have to improvise. Find Sly and get out. Now that we knew where they were, we would come back in force in the morning. During daylight hours.

  When this nightmare ended.

  Taking a last deep breath, I turned and walked uninterruptedly to the stairway in the next room, knowing if I stopped along the route I would have lost any bravado I had built inside. Grabbing onto the railing, I took the first step up. The board beneath me creaked, as I knew it would, and I halted my progress.

  Slow down, you fool, my brain shouted. And I agreed. No use marching into their clutches like a blithering idiot. They didn't know I was here, yet, and I had to use that to my advantage.

  Perspiration had built on my brow, and I unconsciously brushed it away with my forearm. I swallowed hard, and forced my right foot onto the second step. And continued on my way. Each stair creaked, but I made sure my progress was hindered enough to keep the noise at a minimum. My eyes remained riveted the entire way to the top of the staircase, as I expected someone to jump down at me from above at any given moment. I kept my weight leaning downward, ready to leap out the front door at the first sign of trouble.

  Time stood still. The beads of sweat on my forehead dripped down around my eyes, but I ignored them. My breathing became sporadic, yet silent. I would never reach the second floor; the remainder of my entire life would be spent climbing the stairway at Wickerman's place in the dark.

  At the same time, my progress was noticeable, and eventually--an eternity later--I climbed the last step. Keeping my weight on my back foot, I leaned forward and peered around the corner. The hallway was empty. Nothing jumped out at me. And then I realized I hadn't taken a breath in quite some time.

  All the doors to the rooms were shut, and there was no way I could know where Sly had hidden himself. And just exactly where did the party move to up here? No noise gave away their position. I had the feeling, also, that I was completely alone in the house. But that couldn't be.

  The darkness was even more prominent up here than it was downstairs, as the only window in sight was the one at the end of the hallway. Images and outlines all around me once again gave me the impression I was moving through a dream. Nothing was real. Yet, there were five doors down this hall, just as I remembered from my childhood. Even the same old cardboard box rested halfway between the far window and me. This was happening, and the party was silently waiting to surprise me in one of the rooms in front of me. Two doors on the left and three on the right. I knew the bathroom was behind the middle door on the right, a room too small to hold thirty people. But just the right size for a terrified man to hide. Sly was in the bathroom, I was sure, crouched down in the back, sweating, and aiming the gun directly at the doorway.

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief. OK, I thought, grab Sly and hightail it out of here. Whatever was happening this evening could explode on us at any moment. Desperately, I pushed away all thoughts of what would happen if I was discovered and caught.

  There was one problem in reaching the bathroom door, however: I would have to get past the two closed doors in front of it. I would have to make absolutely sure our adversaries weren't in either of those two rooms before moving past those doors. If they came out behind me, I was trapped. No way out. But if they came out ahead of me in the hallway, I knew I had at least a chance to outrun them--and go for help.

  Picking up my right foot, I willed it to step ahead. Slowly, and silently, I moved forward. I tested every step before putting down all my weight, and when I came to a loose floorboard, I simply stepped masterfully over it. No one was going to catch me here tonight.

  If only they would give some sign where they were.

  Reaching the first door on the right, I bent down, cringing at the creaking of my knees, and looked under the door through the crack. The room was lighter than the hallway, and I could see clearly to the other side. No feet littered the floor. This room was empty. I stood, breathing a quick sigh of relief, and was about to move on when I remembered that I was sure I saw them floating a few inches off the ground earlier. I bent down again for another look. At the far end of the room, I could see maybe a yard up off the floor. But just how high could they float? I would have to open the door and see positively that the room was empty.

  Preparing myself for a fast retreat down the hallway, I positioned as much weight as possible in that direction. I took two short, quick breaths, eased the doorknob to the right and held it for a second when it clicked. Sweat dripped into my eyes, and I flung the door open, hoping that surprise was still an element on my side. I could gain a substantial lead on them before they knew what was going down.

  But the room held no bodies, alive or dead--just an expanse of wooden floor with undisturbed dust.

  Letting out the air I had stored in my lungs, I shut the door quickly enough to keep the hinges from squeaking. The hallway remained still; no one, yet, came after me. One room down, one more to go before reaching the bathroom and, hopefully, Sly.

  I approached the next door, and went through the routines swiftly now that I had a plan and knew what I was doing. No sign of feet, I whipped open the door and once again was met by empty air. I was almost home free now. If only Sly was in the bathroom--where he damned well better be.

  I didn't want to just whip open the door as Sly was probably poised with his gun aimed right where I would be standing. If he were anywhere near as frightened as I was, he wouldn't see a friend standing in front of him. He would simply shoot first and ask questions later.

  "Sly," I whispered, hoping he was still coherent enough to understand me. "It's me. Stephen. Are you in there?"

  No reply. Just the distinct banging of the barn door outside.

  "I'm going to open the door now, Sly," I said, slightly louder this time. "Don't shoot, OK?"

  Easing the door open a foot, I eased my head around the edge. No Sly and no possible place for him to hide. Only a toilet tipped on its side rested by itself in the far corner. And now my plan wasn't only washed up, I had to go to the bathroom. Not bad, yet, but something that could become a problem soon enough.

  "Now what?" I asked myself in a low whisper. "Just now what the fuck am I supposed to do?" Continue, came the answer, and check out the two remaining rooms.

  Moving quickly now, before I had any time to change my mind and scram the hell out of there, I opened the next door--whipped it open and prepared to run. Again the room was empty. A lone drape on a lone window swung outward as if reaching for me, and I quickly closed the door.

  I stood silently in the hallway. The cardboard box lay beneath me where Reed and I had placed the tape recorder so many years earlier. The Popular Mechanics magazines it once held had been removed at some point, as now the box was empty. I took in a deep breath and let the air out slowly. Only one more room remained. And even though no one in there made a sound, I knew that's exactly where the party had moved. And Sly was with them. They were only waiting for me to enter their domain and grab me in their clutches, never allowing me to see the light of day again.

  My own mind told me, speaking prominently now, to give up; I had done all that could be asked of anyone, so get the hell out. Save myself now. But my heart, speaking louder, told me that I
couldn't. And I had to agree. Melissa and Sly were here, that much I knew beyond any doubt now, and I was their only chance. I had to get them out. Leaving now would only mean not being able to live with myself later. What would I even say to Julie? No, I had to undertake a rescue attempt--or die trying.

  So, I thought, what was there to do next? I remembered a Marine recruiter once telling me, as he tried to impress me enough to join his elite army, that one could sneak up on his enemy without a weapon, yell as loudly as he could, and paralyze his victim for about three full seconds. That, according to the recruiter, was more than enough time to kill your enemy without him even knowing what had happened. I hoped that recruiter was right, because the element of surprise was all that I had on my side. And I couldn't even be sure of that.

  Without any more hesitation I crept up to the remaining door, pushed away the urge to urinate, sucked in as much air as my lungs would hold, flung open the door in front of me--and screamed as loud as I could. I really had no idea what I hoped to accomplish by doing that, but, luckily, there ended up being no need to worry. The room was empty. They weren't in there.

  I pulled back out of the room and checked out the hallway to see if anyone was headed in my general direction--for yelling as I had just done gave away my position and any advantage I thought I previously had. Yet, no one came after me. The hallway was still. And the inevitable question arose in my mind: Just where the hell was everyone?

  "Sly!" I yelled again, now that I had nothing to lose. "What say we get the fuck out of here?"

  The only reply I received as my echo died down was the banging of the barn door. Nothing from Sly.