Modern Magic
Page 20
“Good. Sit back and enjoy the ride, if you can. We might do a little sliding, but this is an older cab so it’s heavier and holds the road better. Plus, I’ve been driving winters in this town most of my adult life. You’re in good hands.”
Laura smiled. “Great. Thanks.”
By the time they arrived at Laura’s house over an hour had passed, and the sun was just beginning to come up. The driver turned off the meter about halfway through the trip. “No sense making you pay for the weather,” he said. “You can make it up to me in the tip.” He winked at her in the rear view mirror.
When he pulled into her driveway, she paid him and asked him to wait. “Can you wait for me? Please? I need to get inside and pick up a few things, then I need to go to a hotel. Anywhere that’s close.”
He helped her up the front walk, got her inside the front door. “I’ll just be a minute or two,” she promised.
The driver scowled, but nodded and went back out to the cab.
Moving around with the crutches was awkward, but she threw some clothes into a suitcase. She opened the door on Anubis’ crate and called for him. Most times he came to her when she first entered the door, hoping that she’d feed him. But this time she couldn’t find him anywhere. Laura even went so far as open the cellar door in case he was down there, then she opened open a new can of cat food on the electric can opener. “Damn,” she said, hobbling down the hall again to check the bedrooms. She slammed the cellar door shut again on her way. “If you’re down there, cat, you’re on your own.” She called him again, then limped back over to the front door, sliding her suitcase in front of her.
When she opened the door, she saw that the cab was gone. “Shit. Now what do I do?”
She tried Mike’s cell phone, only to get sent to his message system again. She clicked down the receiver, then banged it on the counter out of frustration. “He’s probably out of range still,” she said to herself. “Cell phones are useless things.” Then she called for another cab.
“Sorry,” the dispatcher said, not sounding sorry at all. “We’re not running service right now. It’s…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Laura said, “it’s nasty out there.” She hung up the phone. “But it’s even nastier in here. Now what do I do?”
She felt tears welling up in her eyes – the frantic activity had started her ankle throbbing and sharp stabs of pain threatened to overwhelm her. Stop, she said to herself, breath.
Thanking the person at rehab who conducted the breathing seminar, she felt herself relaxing, focusing. Now think.
“First things first,” she said, the reasonable sound of her voice calming her, “deal with the pain.” She limped over to where she’d left her purse and carried it back to the kitchen. Dumping the entire contents on the counter, she picked up the packets of medicine the doctor had given her. In the process, though, another bottle of pills fell out, from the bottom of the bag where the lining had ripped. Valium. Apparently the nurse at rehab check-in wasn’t as thorough as she thought. Valium! She caught in her breath and reached for them. Her hands trembled as she undid the child-proof lid; she poured the contents into her hands and counted: twenty perfect little blue pills. Just the sight of them made her want to cry in relief. They were exactly what she needed. And they would make everything all right again.
Laura filled up a glass of water, counted out two of the pills, scooping the rest of the precious contents back into the bottle. She had her hand to her mouth, when she heard that low laugh she’d heard before.
Go ahead. Take them, Laura. All of them.
She jumped hearing that voice again in her head and dropped the pills down the kitchen drain. She put her hands up against her eyes and pressed, gritting her teeth and drawing in a painful breath. “No,” she said, her voice weak, almost a whisper.
All of them. It will be all right. You’ll be better off.
“No! Dammit. Stop it!” With a huge effort, she poured the rest of the bottle down the drain, ran the water and the disposal. “All gone,” she said, weak from battling herself, the ghostly influence and the overwhelming craving. “I don’t need them anymore.” She opened the packet of non-narcotic pain killers and downed two of them.
Laura leaned back up against the counter, panting, surprised to discover she sweated and shivered at the same time. The cat door clicked and she sprang up on her feet, forgetting about the splint for a moment, paying for her forgetfulness in a sharp stab of pain. Anubis emerged, as if from the gates of hell and came up to her to sniff at the splint on her foot. She smiled, happy to see him. Happy? Hell, she was thrilled to see one other living creature in this house of the dead. “Now you show up, Bonehead. Where were you before?”
He jumped up to the counter and she scratched his head. “Probably wouldn’t have been any hotel rooms available anyway, but it seemed like a good plan at the time. Now what do we do?”
The painkillers seemed to be working; the pain in her ankle and leg had settled down to a dull ache, persistent but not consuming. Laura picked up the phone and dialed Mike’s cell number again, getting a rush of excitement when it rang. But the feeling was short-lived when the call dropped back into his voice mail. She didn’t leave a message, but knew that he’d know she called.
“So,” she said, cranking her head to one side to look at the cat, “who should we call now?” She dialed Renee, her answering machine picked up. She dialed Carolyn and got another machine. Her father? Although she knew he’s gone away, she called him anyway, just to hear another friendly voice.
The machines in the cellar began to beep again and Laura wanted to scream in frustration. “I guess I could call Dennis,” she said. “Maybe he could get here. Or at least talk to me and tell me what to do.”
Dennis wasn’t all that helpful. “Get out of that house.”
“How?”
“Walk if you have to.”
“Dennis, I broke my ankle. I can barely get around on the carpet.” She looked out the window. The wind had picked up and the snow continued to fall; she couldn’t see any of the houses around her. She couldn’t see a single light, or a car, or another living soul. She felt as if she’d been cast adrift in a white, endless sea.
“Oh.” Dennis’ voice sounded flat. “Yeah, that’s right. Still, maybe one of your neighbors could help, if you can get that far. And if you really can’t get out, at least stay out of the cellar. Most of the malevolence seems to be centered there; it’s the scene that the spirit returns to time and time again.” His enthusiasm revived with his mention of the ghost. “Laura, oh my God, you won’t believe what I saw on the tapes.”
“Um, Dennis? I probably would believe it now. But this isn’t helping me.” Laura wanted to reach through the phone and smack him. This whole thing may have been a fascinating study to him – but she was stuck right in the middle of it all. Fascinating wasn’t a word she’d choose to describe the emotions involved. Terror, yes, that played a big part of it, but that terror mixed with pain and despair. And underlying all of that, there flowed a strong current of anger. Laura didn’t know if what she felt was her anger. Or the spirit’s. And at this point, she didn’t think it made much of a difference.
“Who do you think this is? Or was?”
“I only caught a single aura on the tapes, a single voice. The children’s spirits should now be at rest. And since the aura has a definite female feel about it, I doubt that it’s Bert Wellman. So that leaves Dolores.”
“Aunt Dolly.”
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just a game the kids around here play. That I know now isn’t a game.” Laura shuddered to think that she’d exposed her children to that woman, dead or not. “So you think I should leave?”
“Absolutely. But if you can’t, then stay upstairs. Stay warm and try not to listen, try not to open yourself to stray thoughts or visions.” His voice grew sad. “I suspect that’s how she got to Cassie – she’d gone back to using and that made her mind susceptible. But you’re cle
an, right?”
“Yes.” Laura gave a silent thanks that she’d dumped the Valium. “I guess I’ll put my coat and boots, or rather boot, on and see if I can get somewhere else.”
“How about your car?”
“It’s in the garage. To get there, I’ll need to go down through the cellar.”
“You can’t get to it from outside?”
“Oh, yeah. I can. If I can make it down the driveway without killing myself. But saying I made it there, I couldn’t drive anywhere.”
“No, but you could sit in the car and wait for the roads to clear so that someone could get to you.”
“True. Good thought. Thanks, Dennis.”
“Laura?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck. Call me if you can’t get out. At the very least, I can provide a human voice to listen to.”
“Thanks.”
Laura hung up the phone and looked over at Anubis, where he sat grooming himself. “So what do you think, cat? Should we try to make it outside or take our chances in here?”
She opened up the refrigerator and got out a can of cat food, filling his bowl, then gave him fresh water. “You’ll have to stay here, I think. You should be fine. Go sleep somewhere.” She gave a little laugh. “You know more about this than any of us, don’t you? Too bad you’re not talking.”
Laura put on her coat and slid on her one snow boot. For the foot in the splint, she wrapped it up with a scarf, then wrapped the whole thing up in a plastic garbage bag. “Won’t help my traction at all, but I’m not walking around outside with bare toes.” She put on a hat, a scarf, put her keys into her purse, hanging that around her neck. Then she found her gloves, got her crutches together and opened the front door.
An icy blast of cold air hit her. She heard the cat dart away, tearing down the hallway. She sighed and stepped out onto the first step.
Within no more than a second, she slipped and fell, flat on her back with enough force to knock the wind out of her for a minute or two. Laura pulled herself back up again and went back down. “Okay,” she muttered, “I’m obviously not getting anywhere standing upright. Maybe I could crawl.”
Getting down the driveway proved easy, she just allowed gravity and the ice to carry her along. Snow had drifted up against the garage door, though, and once she dug out enough to get to the door handle, she saw that the ice completely coated the keyhole. “Well, this isn’t going to work.”
She crawled back up the driveway, feeling colder and more tired with each passing minute. Snow had found its way into her boot, and that foot and her hands were frozen. Working her way back up to the front door seemed to take forever, but once she got there, she managed to sit up and look around. The sky had grown so overcast the automatic street lights had turned on, they were the only signs of life she could see. “I’m going to either freeze to death out here, or crack my head open. Either way, I’d be better off inside. There at least I have a fighting chance.”
Once back inside, it took Laura forever to warm up. Eventually, though, she managed to change her clothes and when she stopped shivering, she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa. The sweet scent of chocolate made her smile, brought back memories of when her girls were here. She tried not to think about the other memories, the other cups of cocoa that had been drunk in this house, but the vision of the broken china cups in the hidden room downstairs flashed unbidden into her mind. Laura shivered again.
As if to punctuate her thoughts, the cellar door banged impatiently in its frame. “Shut up,” Laura said, “I’m not coming down there. Make as much noise as you like.”
She settled in on the couch, with the cat curled up next to her and watched the weather on television, sipping her cocoa. Anubis purred contentedly. “We’re right back where we started, cat. Happy?”
The cat may have been happy, but Laura was far from it. Her leg still hurt and her fingers and toes were just thawing out, with the accompanying pins and needles feeling. And her heart raced. She practiced her deep breathing and managed to calm it down a bit.
When the phone rang, she must’ve jumped about two feet. “Don’t hang up,” she said, as she struggled to reach the phone in time. Her voice sounded breathless when she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Laura?” She felt a huge rush of relief on hearing Mike’s voice.
“Oh, Mike. I’m so glad to hear from you.”
“The cell reception here is practically non-existent. But I heard about the snow and wondered how you were doing.”
Laura paused. What should she tell him? He’d never be able to make it to her and he might be in an accident if he did try. If he got hurt, she’d never forgive herself. And if he died…she couldn’t even think about that. “I’m doing fine. I sprained my ankle and had to go to the emergency room. But they fixed me up and I managed to get a cab back here before the roads were closed. Anubis and I are just sitting on the couch, drinking cocoa and watching TV. I miss you though.”
“I miss you too, babe.” His voice grew faint. “I’m losing my signal again, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I worry.”
“I’m fine, love. How are you?”
But he never answered. The line hissed, screeched, and filled up with that low hum of a whisper she’d heard before. Then the line was dead.
Laura tried to call Mike back, but couldn’t even get a dial tone, getting a fast busy tone instead. She sighed and hung up the phone. Glancing at the closed cellar door, she made a face and pounded her fist on it once. It rattled and a cold blast of air washed over her feet. Laura shook her head. “Forget it. I’m not going down there.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Laura reached a strange level of detachment several hours after her trip outside in the snow. Part of it, she suspected, had to do with the painkillers she’d taken. The doctor had warned that they might make her drowsy. Then she realized she hadn’t had any sleep for almost twenty-four hours. She decided she’d go back to bed right after taking her next dose of pills. Until then, she continued to watch television, continued to try to ignore the sounds coming from the cellar.
First all of Dennis’ machines went off at once – a horrible cacophony of noise that grated on Laura’s nerves. The door would bang, and the cat door would click open and shut. At one point, she went back to the door and duct taped the whole thing, hoping to cut back on the drafts that caused the noise. After that, she began to hear the footsteps, going up and down the stairs. For a while she counted each step, but that became too nerve-wracking; eventually she just turned the television up louder.
Every few minutes, she would check out the front window to see if a snow plow had come through, or if any of the neighboring houses showed signs of habitation. It seemed totally absurd to her that everyone would be away on the same weekend. She saw smoke rising from a couple of chimneys about three blocks away, if the snow let up, she might walk that way. For now, she had to stay stuck where she was, but at least the house provided relative warmth and shelter from the weather. The time finally came for her next dose of pills and she washed them down with the last swallow of her cooled cocoa. Then she hobbled back to the bedroom and crawled into bed, fully clothed. The sounds from the basement continued. “Shut up,” she said and giggled, more than a little woozy from the pills, “don’t make me come down there.” Not surprising I should feel this way, she thought, I’ve been so long without any sort of drugs. But she abandoned herself to the lightheaded feeling; she hoped she could sleep for a while, and prayed that when she woke up, everything would be better.
Her dreams were twisted, deep black roads winding through her sleep. Ultimately they had but one destination – like an endless loop, they kept depositing her back here, standing in front of that damned cellar door, her hand to the knob, her heart pounding in her ears. Over and over, she found herself, poised on the brink of the stairs. Everything felt cloudy, hazy and Laura couldn’t tell whether she was dreaming or not.
Yes,
that’s it. You’re dreaming. Just go with it, Laura. Let it take you where you want to go.
Where did she want to go?
Somewhere she could rest.
One step at a time, she thought, but why does each step have to hurt so much? She felt a spasm of pain through her leg with each count. One, two, three… Laura gave a soft laugh. Another twelve step process. But at the end of this one, she could rest. For as long as she wanted.
Forever, Laura, if you want. Just lie down and rest.
She curled up on the cold cellar floor and lay her head down, but when her cheek hit the concrete, she jolted awake. “Shit,” she said, sitting up and looking around, realizing that she’d come to the one place in the world she wanted to avoid. Had she been sleep walking? Or was it an effect of the drugs they’d given her. It hardly mattered how. But why was she here?
You’re looking for peace. And rest. Away from the pain of living.
It sounded so good to Laura. Life was hard and lately she’d been so tired. But she also knew now that the easy way out wasn’t always the right way.
There is no right or wrong, Laura. Just life and death. And you carry more death than most. Accept it.
“What do you want from me?”
I want what’s best for you, dear. That’s all I ever wanted. For you. And for everyone.
Laura closed her eyes, and felt a cold hand brush her hair back from her face.
And what’s best for you is what you want. What you’ve been looking for most of your life. Death.
Her eyes snapped open. “That’s not true.”
The cellar echoed with a low, bone-chilling laughter. Be honest, Laura. You’ve been chasing after death since you were fifteen. Drinking it, swallowing it, letting it fill your veins and filter through your blood.
“But that’s not the way I am right now. I’m better – I’ve taken control of my life. I’m happy now.”
Are you?
“Yes.”
Don’t lie to me, girl. I can tell.
Laura felt a wisp of air pass over her face, and a light tickle on her legs, as if they’d been brushed by a piece of cloth. Then two icy hands grabbed her face. She winced, recognizing the touch, and tried to pull back, but the ghost’s grip was too strong.