All she said was, “I want to go back to the house now.”
Ned let go of her and stepped back, a sad, puzzled expression on his face.
Georgia must have seen it too. “Ned,” she said, “Abby must be exhausted. Let’s get her back up to the house. We can all talk later.”
Abby still didn’t make any movement and Ned took her hand. Finally, she looked at him and nodded. But instead of stepping forward she turned and looked down at the stairwell. Footsteps sounded on the bare steps.
“Brett is coming too. He’s been sick but he’s better now,” Abby said.
The footsteps grew louder and I stared in disbelief as Brett Sanders appeared at the top of the stairs. In his big walking boots he stood side by side with the barefoot Abby Mackie.
Chapter Nine
His clothes were filthy and torn, and his fingernails black with dirt. All the buttons had come off the front of his shirt, which flapped open exposing his chest tattoos. Sanders stood absolutely still as if he’d been planted in that spot and assured us in a droning voice. “I’m well and unharmed,” he said.
“But, but–” Toby spluttered.
“Brett, you’ll have to have a complete medical when you get back, right?” Wheeler insisted.
We questioned Sanders for some time, but he wouldn’t tell us anything apart from repeating what we could see for ourselves; that he was alive and well. After carrying his cold, unbreathing body through the forest, I found that believing my own eyes was proving tricky.
There was nothing more we could do at the boat, so we started back to the house. The atmosphere was surreal, with Ned linking Abby’s arm even though she didn’t pay him the slightest attention. Brett Sanders lumbered along like a big, unwieldy robot.
“The Terminator with a really bad hangover” Nora whispered in my ear, and suddenly I was smiling, at least for a moment.
I glanced again at Abby and was startled to see her staring back at me. Our eyes locked momentarily, and I looked away quickly, but I could still feel her gaze boring into me as I walked. I even had the bizarre idea that she was trying to communicate something to me, like one of those telepaths in a science fiction film. She seemed to be speaking inside my head. Words slowly formed–
I have chosen you next. I will come for you.
I swallowed hard, rubbed my eyes, tried to clear my mind. The words faded, and I made myself think about something else. The house up ahead, Peterman, what’s for supper, anything would do. Abby’s staring eyes reappeared in my mind. I intentionally got too close to Nora and our arms nudged and tangled. She gave me a puzzled look and her startled, alive eyes superimposed themselves over Abby’s dull, dead ones.
We reached the house and I looked hard at windows and walls and doors and anything else I could stare at, to keep the creepy eyes from coming back. I wasn’t completely free of them until Georgia led Abby went upstairs to shower and change her clothes.
* * *
Brett Sanders went straight to his room, insisting he needed rest and wouldn’t answer any questions until after he’d slept. Once she’d washed, Abby came down again and Toby and Georgia plied her with hot tea in the kitchen. She drank with the same slow, careful movements she’d shown since we’d found her, raising the mug to her mouth at precise five second intervals. It was so robotic I looked into the mug to make sure that she was actually drinking. She noticed my interest and I almost excused myself and left the room there and then. But I wanted to hear what she had to say, as long as she didn’t stare into my head again. So I stood well off to the side to avoid her attention.
I needn’t have worried. Abby directed her eyes straight ahead and stared into the middle distance. Her lips curled into a little half-smile. You could tell that she was going over private thoughts in her head the whole time she was drinking.
“Have some more tea,” Toby said. Abby didn’t acknowledge his offer. Yet when Toby held out the pot and began pouring tea into her mug, she pressed her hand on top of his. It was a strange gesture and Toby almost dropped the pot. After he set it down he rubbed the back of his hand as if he’d been stung.
Ned came in, saw Abby had come down, and sat beside her. She paid him zero attention. He rubbed her bare arm lovingly, massaging her pale white skin which had an odd sheen like candle wax. She gripped the bowl of the mug with both hands; fingers wrapped tightly around it, despite it being obviously hot. I vowed there and then to never let those hands touch me.
The door opened and Wheeler stormed in.
“Damn Sanders for a stubborn bastard, he won’t even open his door to me.” He looked Abby up and down and seemed appeased. “Here you are, Abby, all cleaned up and ready to talk.”
No response. The mug went up to Abby’s mouth and down again, like the pendulum of an old fashioned clock.
Wheeler pulled a chair up straight in front of her. “Abby, do you have any explanation for–” he began, paused and continued, “–recent events?”
Abby’s expression remained vacant. Long seconds ticked by. Then her eyes finally focussed on Wheeler and she shook her head in slow motion.
“What do you know about Sanders?” Wheeler continued.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Abby said in a low monotone.
“Is he physically stable?” Toby asked her, “Or does he need immediate medical care?”
Abby’s eyes went to the ceiling. Sanders’ room was above us. “He has slowness in his reflexes and speech, and his body heat is low,” she replied unexpectedly, “That could be explained by his time in the ice bath and yesterday’s rainstorm.”
“But otherwise he’s in good health?” Toby persisted.
Abby nodded her head slowly up and down. “Once his body has rested he will be recharged and repaired,” she replied, “As I now am, after my cleaning and change into new clothes.”
“You’re really feeling okay now?” Ned asked.
She replied without looking at him. “I am perfectly well, as you can see.”
I think it was the last thing any of us could see and we exchanged puzzled looks.
Wheeler took charge again. “Well, Sanders will have to see a doctor for a thorough check-up the moment he gets back to Vancouver, that’s definite,” he said.
For the first time, Abby seemed interested. “Vancouver is a big city of many people.”
None of us knew how to respond to that.
“You must have talked to Sanders,” Wheeler continued, “What’d he say happened to him?”
Abby opened her mouth, but no words came out. You could almost see the thinking going on behind her eyes. After several seconds, she answered.
“He thinks he had a seizure and was paralysed for some time. When he woke up he couldn’t remember where he was. He wandered around in the rain for hours then later he found me.”
“Was he still carrying the axe?” Wheeler asked.
“There was no axe.”
“The axe he took off the wall in the shed,” Wheeler insisted.
There was another long pause.
“He dropped the axe in the bushes.”
Wheeler frowned as if he didn’t believe her. “So why did you disappear with him and not come back?”
Again, we heard the kitchen clock ticking in the silence before Abby replied.
“I saw Brett from the kitchen window. He was outside in the rain, so I went out to help him. We got lost in the darkness and took shelter on the boat.”
Wheeler wasn’t falling for it. “But you came back here early this morning and took food away with you.”
Without warning, Abby’s head sank and she slumped in her chair. Her mug, now almost empty, fell to the floor and rolled under the table. Ned grabbed both her arms and shook her gently, trying to get her to reopen her eyes.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Ned spat the words at Wheeler.
Toby checked Abby’s pulse and breathing. “She’s fine,” he said, “Bit puzzling though. It’s as if she just switched off the power and went straigh
t into sleep mode.”
I had the same thought; this new Abby was like a piece of electronic equipment that had suddenly been shut down.
Then she opened her eyes again and sat up again. “I will rest now too,” she said.
Wheeler looked about to argue with her, but Georgia jumped in. “Julius,” she protested, “Abby must still be exhausted after all she’s been through. I’m sure she’ll talk more later on. Now let’s get her up to bed and asleep.”
“I agree,” Toby said, “Lots of rest is the best thing for both of them till the chopper comes.”
Wheeler knew when he was outvoted and nodded reluctantly. “Okay, Ned, take her up to your room.”
Ned rose, linked arms with his wife, and led her to the door.
We looked at each other awkwardly. I don’t think anyone wanted to be the first to speak. Nora got up and closed the door. Gradually the tension in the room began to ease. I could feel my body uncoil its stressed tightness and return to normal.
“That was all a bit confusing,” Nora said, breaking the silence. Brave girl.
“Yes, she’s behaving oddly,” Toby agreed.
“Odd? She’s sick in the head,” Wheeler said, “And that slow motion act was driving me crazy. There’s something going on behind those wide eyes and stupid grin.”
“I could feel her inside my head,” I said. As soon as the words came out I regretted it. Everyone looked at me, but no-one said anything.
Then Toby came over and sat beside me. “Me too,” he said.
“Damned strange,” Wheeler agreed, and Georgia nodded.
So they had sensed it too.
* * *
Peterman and Marie served Greek food for supper; chewy meat on skewers, tiny potatoes that tasted strange, and everything smothered in shiny olive oil. The funny looking breaded balls weren’t bad but give me a hamburger anytime. Nora loved every mouthful and had a second helping.
Marie brought food up to Sanders and Abby but had to leave it outside their doors. Ned ate with us then excused himself straight after to go upstairs. Toby also went up early, and Wheeler vanished into his office opposite the living room. Nora kept yawning and decided it was bedtime too. I wasn’t ready for that yet and wandered around from room to room for a while. I eventually ended up in the kitchen again, back in the window seat. Georgia came in and started heating something on the stove. I watched her from behind, so slim and perfect, and desperately tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound desperate. As if she knew I was watching her, she turned and smiled.
“Would you like to join me?” she asked.
Yes, no, sort of; of course I’d like to join her. Help, what do I say?
“Sure,” I replied. A man of few words, eh?
“I’m making my bedtime drink. Guaranteed to make you feel warm and glowing under the sheets.”
“What’s in it?” I asked, pleased to have thought of something normal.
“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” she teased. Our eyes met, and I could have died happy there and then. “Actually, it’s basically hot milk with honey, vanilla and grated chocolate on top. Should I make you an extra mug?”
It sounded sweet enough to gag on, but waterboarding wouldn’t have got me to say that.
“That sounds wonderful, thank you. Thanks for the offer, appreciate it.” Careful; don’t sound too grovelling.
“Pleasure at night, but you’ll regret it in the morning,” she said. Somehow there was always a double meaning in everything she said. Bedtime, under the sheets, regret it in the morning. Worse still, she seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
She filled two mugs with steaming liquid, brought them over and sat down beside me on the narrow window seat. I felt her hip bone press against mine. Her brown hair shone under the light as she crossed her slim, bare legs toward me. I took the mug and gulped a mouthful down. It was so hot it scalded the back of my throat.
“Careful,” she said, “Take it slow and gentle.”
I could feel my face reddening, and silently cursed my blushing problem. We sat and sipped quietly for a minute or two.
“By the way,” she said at last, “Have you tried using your cell phone from here?”
The change of subject broke the spell. “No,” I replied, “I didn’t even bring it with me; Mr. Wheeler told us it wouldn’t work up here, we’re way too far from a tower.”
She nodded in agreement. “That’s what he told us too. I have the latest model and I thought it might work anyway, but I can’t get a connection.”
“Is it urgent?” I asked her. “Apparently Wheeler has a satellite line in his office.” As if I knew anything about stuff like that.
She grinned in a kind of wistful way. It was incredibly sexy. “He does indeed. But he’s a control freak and he won’t let me use it. And he keeps the door locked.”
“I’m sure he’d let you use it if you explained.”
“Yeah, but then I’d have to tell him why I wanted to make the call.”
I was getting a bit confused. “You don’t want him to know?”
She shrugged. “No, because he’d say I was being disloyal.” She looked at me as if deciding whether to say more. “What’s happened with Brett really worries me,” she continued, “For God’s sake, we were all sure he was dead. I don’t know about you, but I’m not accustomed to miraculous resurrections.”
“I think we all feel that way,” I replied, “I know I do.”
We sipped some more, then she stood up, leaving her empty mug on the seat.
“I guess since Julius insists on handling it his way, we’ll have to play along,” she sighed, then added, “Well, it’s time for me to get to bed. I’ll see you later, Nick,” and made for the door.
I sat holding my warm mug, thinking about the gleam in her brown eyes, the slight wink she’d just given me, and what it would be like to see her later.
* * *
Instead of going upstairs, I turned left and entered the living room. It was empty. I went behind the bar counter and poured myself a large whiskey to get rid of the taste of the milky goo. Maybe it would get Sanders and Abby Mackie out of my head too.
I drained the glass and went out into the hallway. Wheeler came out of the kitchen and I wondered what he had been doing there.
“Going to bed, Nick?”
“Yes Mr. Wheeler, it’s been a long day.”
“It sure has. I’m going up soon myself.”
“You must be happy how things have turned out, with Abby and Brett I mean.”
“I’ve just checked on them both.”
Maybe I should check on Georgia. I chased the thought away. “How are they?” I asked.
“Physically fine but kind of out of it. Brett finally let me in but then went straight back to sleep. Ned is with Abby so he pushed me out the door.”
I was about to go upstairs when he grabbed my arm.
“By the way Nick, with all the funny stuff that’s been going on, I’ve decided to take precautions. Come with me for a minute.”
I followed him to the front hall.
“Here, grab the other end of this,” he said.
The two of us lifted a solid wood sideboard off the floor and placed it across the front door.
“I hope this isn’t necessary but just in case Abby and Sanders decide to go sleepwalking again, or whatever the hell they’ve been doing.”
“Pretty good barricade,” I said, panting after the effort.
“I shoved the kitchen table in front of the back door, so that’s both exits blocked. Of course, if Sanders really wants out, he can do it. But it will slow them down and they’ll make noise, so hopefully I’ll hear it and raise the alarm.”
I thought this was all a bit paranoid. “For someone sleepwalking this should be more than enough,” I replied.
“Right,” he said, uninterested in my opinion, “Now you can go up to bed.”
Wheeler went into his office, closed the door behind him and I heard the sharp
click of a lock. I ascended the staircase and went down the passage until I was standing outside Georgia’s room. There was no sound from inside. I raised my hand to knock.
What if I’m getting her signals all wrong? And is this really what I want anyway?
I stood there for ages, wishing she’d open, or that I could at least hear her movements inside. Finally, I lowered my arm and started walking again. Ten minutes later, clothes neatly folded on a nearby chair, teeth brushed, last trip to the bathroom made, I slid naked into bed.
The big house was absolutely silent. I wondered if I would hear a commotion at the front or back doors from this far away. It would have to be pretty loud.
My mind stilled and I knew I’d made the right decision on the floor below. Rapping on Georgia’s door would have been a big mistake. She might even have laughed at me. I drifted into a deep, welcome sleep.
Chapter Ten
Ned Mackie stirred in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. Wan moonlight filtered in through the still open blinds. Despite his mental and physical exhaustion, he’d had a lot of trouble getting to sleep. Abby was back but she was, well, different; very, very different. His first instinct upon waking was to roll over and snuggle up to her. It’s what they did, and had been doing for years, lying together like spoons in a tray.
But not tonight. He’d tried that earlier and found she was as cold as a slab of ice. Worse, she’d been completely unresponsive to anything he’d said or done. Worst of all, he found that he didn’t even want to snuggle up anyway. If he was honest with himself, the thought of doing so now made his skin crawl.
Feeling guilty, Ned rolled over in the opposite direction and peered at the luminescent figures on the alarm clock. Nearly three o’clock; the dead of night. He lay on his back and a ball of fear tightened in the pit of his stomach. The dark, shadowy mound of Abby lay completely still beside him. He thought about saying something to see if she was awake but dismissed the idea, realising she wouldn’t respond either way. The rat continued to gnaw in his gut.
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