Uninvited

by David Anderson

  Just like what must have happened Sanders, and had been happening to us since then, Tom heard a voice speak in his head, saying “You are mine now.”

  At this point, if it had been me, I’d have run like hell but I guess Tom was made of braver stuff.

  ‘I studied the lines of his face, the curved lips, the hooked nose, and the dark sunken eyelids. Time stood still, the rest of the world disappeared, and I existed in this moment. Then the eyelids opened. My heart stopped beating. Terrible dark eyes found me instantly and locked on mine. His thin lips never moved but somehow I heard him speak again, this time just a single word. “Come.” My reaction was unthinking, purely instinctive. It bypassed my mind and reason entirely. My arm swung up and I aimed the pistol and fired. Even in my terrified state, my aim was good and the head exploded like a shattered, rotten melon. Time started for me again.’

  Then he really does run, back the way he’d come. It sounds like he was half crazy by now.

  ‘Through dense, resistant forest I sprinted at perilous speed, slipped and slid over and over again, picked myself up and continued the mad dash. I remember little else about it other than pain, breathlessness, bursting lungs and utter, total panic. Every so often I was forced to stop and suck air into my wheezing, gasping lungs then some innocent sound would set me off at a sprint again. Shadows were imagined pursuers until twilight gave way to night and my demons were all around me.’

  Exhausted, Tom got back to the river and into his canoe.

  ‘In front of Logan’s cabin I collapsed, rolled over onto my back on the ground, and stared up at the moon. In my mind I could still see the Indian’s face and those evil eyes opening, watch the unmoving purple lips and hear the macabre command.’

  * * *

  I paused in my reading and thumbed to the end. There were only a few more pages to go. I went back and read them.

  Tom spent the rest of his time paddling back and writing up his diary, getting it down ‘before I start disbelieving the evidence of my own senses and conclude that I temporarily went mad.’

  Naturally, he couldn’t stop thinking about the rock and the head on it. Many times he asked himself if he imagined it all and concluded, ‘I am as certain as I can be that I did not. Incredible as it is, the head must have become reanimated with life. How this can be, I cannot explain.’

  He also thought about the animals he’d encountered and how strangely they behaved. That was a mystery to him too. He had heard that animals are able to sense evil in a place, and wondered ‘Were they perhaps trying to give me some kind of warning?’

  I could tell that even well back downriver, he was still a badly frightened man.

  Tom finished up his story with a quote from Edgar Vernon’s Bible, which he’d rescued from Logan’s cabin. “Is not my word like a fire?” says the Lord; “And like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?”

  His last sentence is a prayer that ‘those satanic eyes do not follow me always.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  I closed the book and checked my watch. Nearly ten o’clock. I’d been reading for hours, caught up in the strange, unbelievable story of Thomas Irwin and darkness had long since fallen outside the window. I flicked on from the last page of text to the very back of the book. An information page gave details of the typeface, the type of paper used, and the number of copies printed. Apparently the one I was holding was ‘Copy A’ of only twenty-six individually alphabetized copies. Underneath in green-blue ink was the handwritten signature of Thomas Irwin himself. Maybe this had been his personal copy.

  Right at the very back there was a card pocket, like you find in old library books but bigger. This had to be where the map had been inserted but it was gone now. Wheeler had been looking at an old map from time to time on the hike to the meteorite.

  He hadn’t needed to consult it very often. I thought about this and a light bulb went on in my head. It was a route already familiar to him; he’d made the trip before. Only at the very end had he kept the map out and checked it thoroughly. He’d lied to us about not being there before.

  But why?

  * * *

  Nora yawned and looked in the hallway mirror as she passed it. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hair was a dull mess. She yawned again and combed her hair with her fingers. It felt greasy even though she’d just showered. She wondered how much sleep she’d got last night. Four hours? In the end, the night had passed quietly, with no break-ins. At least, she assumed there’d been none.

  She entered the kitchen and discovered she was the first down for breakfast. The wood strips across the window were intact and everything else looked normal. Five minutes later, Nick came in and joined her. Her loud knocks on his door on the way past must have worked this time.

  “You’re looking unusually bright eyed,” she said, knowing she looked the opposite, “I’ve just started brewing coffee.”

  “Glad to see there’s life after Peterman,” Nick replied, “Things haven’t ground to a halt after all.”

  “Poor Marie would disagree. I don’t think she’s come down yet, so we’ll have to fend for ourselves.”

  She watched her brother pick up on the hint and go over to the cupboards. He peered inside them one by one, before eventually giving up, then turned and looked at her helplessly, a pleading hang-dog look on his face.

  “Happen to know where the mugs are? And the bread?”

  “You’re useless,” Nora sighed, but got up and helped him all the same. She went straight to the mug rack and took two down, then showed Nick the breadbin. He slotted four slices of plain bread into the toaster beside the bin.

  “Peanut butter around?” he asked hopefully.

  Nora handed him a tub of gourmet peanut butter. “I’ll have toast too, make sure it’s wholegrain.”

  They made a big plate of toast, microwaved some precooked bacon, and brought everything over to the table. Nora sensed that Nick was holding something back.

  “What did you do last night? You disappeared very early,” she said.

  “Nothing much,” he replied, “Just did some reading.”

  She let it go. “Getting breakfast together seems so normal. We could do with a bit of normality around here.”

  “Too true, sis. Helping Peterman and Marie serve the guests was getting on my nerves, like they were lords and ladies of the manor or something.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. I’m happier getting things for myself.”

  “It’s more natural,” Nick agreed. “Now there’s just everything else that’s unnatural to cope with; all the disappearances and stuff.”

  Nora nodded. “That’s been horrible, eh? Pretty frightening, to be honest. Do you think the worst of it is over?”

  He looked at her as if thinking what to say. The door behind her opened.

  Ned Mackie burst in, stared at them both, but said nothing. He charged across the room like a raging rhino and poured himself a mug of steaming coffee. Nora watched some of the hot liquid spill over the man’s trembling hand. He didn’t flinch.

  “Cream’s in the fridge,” Nora said, remembering that Ned took double cream in his coffee.

  He turned and glared at her, his face an unnatural purplish red, and looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel or two. Still he didn’t speak. Finally, he nodded and went to the fridge. He sloshed about half a cup of cream into his coffee and slammed the fridge door shut. To Nora’s surprise, he then sat down at the table with them.

  Ned raised the mug to his lips with a hand that still shook violently. Coffee dribbled onto the tablecloth and he absentmindedly patted it with his other hand, as if that would do any good. Nora sensed violent tension coming from him, coiled tight and ready to spring. She eased her chair back from the table, so she could get up quickly if things took a bad turn.

  The three of them sat in an awkward silence until Nick picked up a fresh slice of toast and crunched it noisily. Nora searched her head for something neutral and pleasant to say an
d came up with nothing.

  Wheeler appeared in the doorway and broke the tension. As soon as he came over, Ned Mackie ducked past him and left. Nora felt only slightly better – it was out of the Ned frying pan, and into the Wheeler fire.

  “Was he bothering you?” Wheeler demanded to know.

  “Ned’s really struggling,” Nora replied, “He’s a volcano ready to erupt.”

  Wheeler grunted his agreement. “He’s completely lost the plot,” he replied.

  “That’s a rough way of putting it.” Nora had the words out before she could stop herself. Nick kicked her ankle under the table.

  Wheeler let it go. He gave an impatient wave of his hand, indicating the breakfast things. “Has Marie been here yet?”

  Nora looked at him. “Not that we’ve seen,” she answered, careful not to make it sound critical this time.

  “That’s damned odd. I told her to have breakfast ready, and that she could even join us afterward. I suppose she’s up there, moping around in her room.”

  “I’ll go and check, if you like,” Nora replied, keen to get away.

  Wheeler nodded. “We can’t assume any absences are normal. She’s not crazy enough to go outside; still, it’s best to be sure.”

  “I’ll go up and see if she’s alright,” Nora said again, and got up.

  She met Toby in the hallway and asked him.

  “No, I haven’t seen her either, Nora,” Toby replied.

  Unease grew in Nora. What if Marie’s changed over too? Suddenly it looked all too possible.

  She jogged up to the top floor and hurried past her own bedroom to the foot of a set of half a dozen stairs leading up to the Petermans’ suite. Three steps up this flight, a sixth sense told her to slow down, stop. I’ll call Marie from here, she thought. No need to go all the way.

  “Marie are you there?”

  There was no reply.

  “Marie, can you come down please?” Silence. Nora tried again. “Mr. Wheeler would like you to come down and have breakfast with us, or we can bring some up if you like.”

  This time there was the sharp click of a door latch and a creak of hinges. Nora took another step up the stairs until she could see a wedge of light at the edge of Marie’s door. The wedge broadened until the door was half open.

  “Thank you, Nora,” came a familiar voice, strained and a bit hoarse but definitely Marie’s, “Can you come and help me, please?”

  Nora took another step up. Marie’s thin shadow was visible on the pale wall beyond the half-opened door. She must be standing just inside the room.

  “Please come out of your room right now, Marie.” Nora felt her cheeks redden at her insistent tone of voice, “Come out and come down.”

  “Nora dear, just come into the room and help me.”

  She’s ignoring me. Nora took the last stair to the top. She could now see a bit more of the wall beyond the partly open door. The shadow on it grew bigger, taller, and broader. Now it didn’t look at all like it was Marie’s; it looked like Peterman’s, or even Sanders’.

  “Come in and help me, Nora. It will only take a minute and then we'll go downstairs together.” Marie’s voice was sad and plaintive, compelling too. But it definitely came from a lot further inside the room than where the shadow was standing.

  Nora swallowed hard and racked her brain what to do. She was on the verge of running back down the stairs. One more try, then she’d get help. She took a deep breath.

  “You have to come out, Marie.”

  “Please miss, I’ve hurt myself and can’t stand up. Can you help me out of bed?”

  Nora’s heart pounded in her chest. Marie was lying. Or, at least, the tall, standing shadow on the wall wasn’t hers. The door creaked again, opened a little wider. Why had Nora got so close to it? She pressed the fear back down and replied in what she hoped was a normal, calm voice.

  “Sure Marie, no problem, I’m coming right now.”

  The shadow on the wall grew even bigger. Nora turned and ran down the six stairs, along the hallway to the top of the next flight. The sound of her own feet covered any noise there might be behind her and she was too terrified to look back.

  Nick stood at the top of this flight of stairs and she ran right into him. They swayed and almost fell down, until he pushed her off but held her up at the same time. She looked behind and saw nothing, turned again and saw the worried frown on Nick’s face.

  “Ssssssshhh,” she hissed, and put a finger to her lips, signalling him to stay quiet. She grabbed his arm and pulled him around the corner but kept the six upper stairs in sight.

  “She’s in her bedroom but there’s something wrong with her,” Nora whispered, “She’s pretending she’s sick but there’s someone else in there with her, ready to jump me.”

  “I’ll get Wheeler and be right back,” Nick said, “In the meantime, don’t go up there, and don’t let her near you. Watch for her and if she comes down, run. Okay?”

  Nora nodded, intending to do exactly those things anyway. Within a minute, there were sounds of rushing about below, and Wheeler appeared with his hunting rifle in his hands, Nick and Toby behind him.

  “She still up there?” Wheeler growled.

  “Yes,” Nora replied, and added quickly, “Please don’t use that thing unless you have to.”

  Wheeler took the safety catch off the rifle, brushed past her, and led them upstairs.

  When they got to the top of the last six stairs, the shadow had disappeared from the wall. Nora’s face and arms registered fresh, outside air coming from the room. Wheeler pointed the rifle at the half open doorway and shouted, “We’re coming in.”

  This time there was no reply. He kicked the door open, banging it hard against the wall, and strode inside.

  Nora followed behind and saw that the room was empty. The bed was unmade – it had obviously been slept in – and there was a flower-patterned nightdress lying on the floor, as if Marie had hurriedly dressed. The bedside light was on, but the heavy curtains had been drawn back, revealing an open window and the origin of the breeze.

  Nick looked into the built-in wardrobe and Toby peered under the bed, both finding nothing. There was nowhere else in the room where Marie could be hiding.

  “Where is she?” Toby asked, voicing Nora’s thoughts.

  “Apart from the door behind us, the window is the only possible way out,” Wheeler replied.

  Nora went to the window and stuck her head out. Beneath was a drop of thirty feet or so to the ground and, apart from the odd rusty nail, she couldn’t see many footholds or handholds on the way down. The overhang directly above meant that the roof was inaccessible and there weren’t any other options. If Marie had left her room via the window, she had either sprouted wings or risked serious injury.

  “She must have had help,” Nora said, “A ladder or something.”

  “I already thought of that,” Wheeler thundered, “And brought our long ladder indoors yesterday. It’s locked away so these bastards can’t get it.”

  Nora ignored the rant. “There was someone else here with her. I saw his shadow on the wall, but Marie’s voice came from further back in the room.”

  “Peterman came back for her?” Nick suggested.

  “That’s what I think too,” Nora agreed, “But how did he get in? Even if Marie opened the window, without a ladder there’s no way up from the ground.”

  Wheeler came over to the window and pushed Nora aside. “Don’t forget, Sanders is an amateur climber,” he said grimly, “And Peterman’s been hiking and climbing all his life. He’s still pretty agile too.”

  “What would they hold on to?” Nick asked.

  “The drainpipe, window ledges, crevices between the logs, that’s all an experienced climber needs,” Wheeler replied.

  “But Marie couldn’t have got down that way,” Nora objected.

  Wheeler nodded. “True, unless she instantly acquired Peterman’s or Sanders’ climbing skills.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s exactly what
happened.” He slammed the window pane down and locked the catch. “Anyway, she’s gone now and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  Nora didn’t feel like leaving it at that. “You’re not going to search for her?”

  “It’ll be a waste of time,” Wheeler replied, “They’re long gone by now. But we’ll take a look anyway.”

  In the front hallway Wheeler unlocked and unbarred the door. “Toby, stay here, lock up behind us and don’t open again until you hear us outside, talking in normal voices,” he instructed.

  Wheeler led Nick and Nora around to the side of the house until they were directly beneath the Petermans’ bedroom window. Nora took a good long look at the area around a drainpipe.

  “Deep foot imprints,” she said, pointing, “Someone landed heavily here.” With her eyes glued to the ground, she slowly moved further from the house. “There are lighter footprints going away from here.”

  “Then they must have climbed down okay after all,” Nick replied.

  “Not so fast, bro,” Nora replied. She still couldn’t imagine Marie climbing down the house wall. “That’s only one set of prints; I think I’ve found another.”

  She hunkered down and parted some tall grass to reveal an old tree stump, cut so low to the ground that it was totally concealed. “This grass is all bent to one side. It’s like someone jumped away from the wall of the house and landed here.”

  Wheeler pushed Nick aside and condescended to look closer.

  Nora pointed at a sharp, splintered area on the near side of the stump. Bright crimson stains made it stand out from the rest. “Bloodstains,” Nora said, “One of them had a heavy fall.” She moved away from the house, her eyes still locked on the stains.