Her eyes opened and she saw him. Earl stood before her, his back turned. He was tinkering with something, but she couldn't see what. Beyond him was the chained door in the basement.
Katie looked down and saw that she was tied spread-eagled to a dirty mattress lying on the basement floor. Her wrists and ankles were tied to their respective corners by a soft rope, the rope itself wrapping around the mattress in a complicated manner. She tried to pull one of her arms away but the rope didn't have much give. Her hand strained and squirmed, bending at the wrist to try and pull the rope securing it, but she couldn't reach it. She tried with her other hand and then her legs, but it was no use.
Earl glanced over his shoulder and smirked when he saw that she was awake. "You were out a shorter while than I expected. No matter, I'm almost done here." He turned his attention back to what he was doing.
Katie strained her neck and could see a metal trolley in front of him. He was fiddling with something sitting on a tray on top of it. Her head was still swimming but starting to get clearer with every passing minute. She rolled her head back on the mattress and gazed up at the closed window near the ceiling, seeing the night sky through it. Time had obviously passed, but she didn't know how much. She felt miserable tied there; humiliated. She was tired of being humiliated. Tired of being subservient and letting someone else dictate her happiness. She'd always been beaten down into that position by the fear that came with standing up for herself; with Josh it had always just been easier to go with his flow, to beg him to stay though he would still leave, to easily accept him back when he wanted to come back even though she hated it, hated him for it, but not as much as she hated herself.
And that was it, wasn't it? It was never other people keeping her down, their boot heel pressed against her neck; it was her. It was her all along. That was all she ever accepted for herself and so that was all she got. Earl was nothing new.
"You've been very bad, Elizabeth," Earl said. "But soon it won't matter. I'll purge that wayward soul out of your body and reunite with you again."
"What are you talking about?" Katie barked. The outburst was so sudden and uncharacteristic of her that it made Earl throw a glance at her. "I'm never going to be Elizabeth! Your brainwashing isn't working! It doesn't matter how many stupid dresses you make me wear or how many stupid dinners you serve! I saw what you did to her! You bastard, you raped her! You probably killed her, too!"
In a flash Earl was turned around and his hand clamped over her throat. Her face was going red and her eyes bulged. Her mouth hung open and her tongue impotently waved around in the open air, searching for relief. Her body convulsed on the mattress, her eyes starting to slide into the back of her head.
Earl's own face was red as a beet, his eyes bulging too. Then he saw what he was doing, knew he couldn't, and he let go just as suddenly as he had grabbed her.
Katie gasped for air and her body twisted on the mattress. She coughed hoarsely in between taking in whooping lungfuls of air.
Earl went back to the trolley, continuing his work. When he spoke again, his voice was calm. "You're close enough to Elizabeth by now," he said. "In just a minute that sniveling little bitch you've been harboring will be gone and you'll be ready to truly take on Elizabeth's spirit. The landscape is fertile. Your subconscious mind is more powerful than you think... and equally betraying." He grinned devilishly, but she couldn't see it.
Katie made a sour face. She pulled at her restraints again to no avail.
Earl turned to her and finally showed her what he was working on. He held a cloth in his hand. It looked damp. Behind him on the trolley were a couple of small glasses and bottles, filled with some manner of liquids and tinctures, all strange and foreign to her.
"We'll just get you prepped and ready with this before I administer the real treatment," he said. "Just a little something to make you relax. It won't put you to sleep."
He approached her with the damp cloth, putting one knee between her legs and leaning over her.
"No, no!" she shrieked. She bucked and fought with everything she had, turning her head away, scrunching up her face, but she couldn't stop him. The cloth pressed against her face and she flailed her head so violently she almost gave herself whiplash. The awful-smelling chemical climbed up her nostrils and invaded her brain. Fear took hold of her at first, but then she relaxed. The chemical made her. She felt her head floating like it was filled with helium. Her urge to fight quickly drained. She still had her own voice in her head screaming for her to fight back, to not let him do this to her, but it was like being trapped at the bottom of a well and shouting up from the darkness, far away from where anyone could hear.
Earl turned back to the trolley and withdrew a dropper from a small bottle, unleashing exactly three drops into a drinking glass filled with liquid. "Just a little drink now, almost ready. And then Miss Travers will be gone and you will welcome your true self with open arms."
Katie writhed on the mattress. Some voice in her head that was foreign to her now told her to get up, but her body wasn't capable of it. Her limbs weren't tired, exactly—peaceful was the word. She made one attempt to sit up and was defeated, and then her body settled into complete malaise like a robot powering down.
Noooo... the voice in her head whined. Get up, please!
Earl poured something else in the glass. He was almost ready now.
A funny sensation tickled Katie's hand. She didn't feel like turning her head to look at it, but it persisted. The feeling was warm and wet and like soft sandpaper was being dragged across her skin. She turned her head.
The black cat was sitting at the corner of the mattress, licking her hand. Then he rubbed his face on her knuckles.
Katie's eyes lit up. Staying completely silent, she jerked her head, trying to get the cat to understand her.
The rope! The rope!
The cat began sniffing her hand and then the rope.
Yes! Please!
The cat batted at it with his paw then began biting it. The rope around Katie's wrist loosened and she wiggled her hand, trying to see if she could slip it through, but it was still too tight. She had to remind herself to be patient. The cat bit and pulled, using his claws to help as he gnawed on the fabric. The loop of rope grew bigger and bigger until finally, with a little wiggle, her hand was free.
A burst of joy erupted inside of her, but it was all silent. In front of her, Earl withdrew one final bottle of an unknown tincture from a small box and unscrewed the dropper from it, oblivious to what was going on behind him.
Katie reached over and loosened the rope around her other wrist, then she got to work on her ankles. When she was free, all of her limbs tingled and felt half-asleep from being stretched for so long, and there was something inside of her that told her to lie back down, to get some rest. It was like a strange instinct she didn't have before; no need to get up and do anything, what's your hurry? Just lay your head back down and get some Z's.
But Katie's small voice was inside too, and it never stopped fighting for her. It was screaming for her to get up now; time to go. She looked around. Her movements were sluggish, but capable. There was nothing to defend herself with. She could run for the stairs. Could he catch her? This old question again.
And then like the breath of God blown into her nostrils, her body was filled with a distinct plan and she knew exactly what to do.
Earl was dressed in a white polo shirt as he dripped two drops of the new tincture in the glass and stirred it. "Here we go," he said. He wore pair of blue jeans and a set of slippers with no socks. The cuffs of his jeans rode up a little high, and between them and the heels of his slippers, two nice little stretches of flesh peeked out: his Achilles tendons.
Like a wild cat herself, Katie sank her teeth into his right Achilles tendon and bit down hard. Earl screamed and tried to shake her off, but her incisors had already broken skin and had a good hold. By the time he could turn himself around enough to see what was happening, Katie bit all the way, seve
ring the tendon, and ripped it off of his heel. He howled and lurched into the trolley, knocking over all the glassware sitting on top. Now that he was free, he tried to take a step back, but when he put weight down on his foot he screamed so loud she thought his vocal cords would explode, and he collapsed to the floor.
Katie spit out the piece of him and turned for the stairs. Earl rolled over and swiped his arms out at her in vain as the cat scrambled away up the boxes and out the window. Katie fought against her sluggishness as she made her way upstairs, his bloody howls following her from behind.
The Old Flames
Run, Katie told herself. Run! Great, where? Hide! Nowhere to hide. No escape.
Up.
She ran up the stairs to the second floor. She'd done a good job of hobbling him, but now it was time to take out something more important on him: his eyes. When she got to the third floor she flung open the closet door and navigated the dark, cramped space between the walls and floors to get to his control room. She came out into the small room and beheld his setup on the desk. She looked on the monitors and saw Earl on the ground floor. He'd made it up the basement stairs and now he was hobbling on one leg toward the entrance, using the wall to brace himself.
"Elizabeth!" he cried.
She could faintly hear his voice coming from downstairs, but more clearly it came through a little desktop speaker sitting in front of the monitors. Next to it was a microphone attached to a stand with a white button on it. As she looked down at it then observed Earl on the monitors, she couldn't help a smirk from spreading across her lips.
Katie leaned toward the microphone and held the button down. "How does it feel to be on the other end now?"
Earl reached the stairs by the front door and twisted around, staring bewildered into the camera in the front hall closet.
"Every movement you make being watched..."
"Elizabeth, you're upsetting me!" he shrieked as he started up the stairs.
"But not anymore. Say goodbye to your sick peepshow." There was a hiss of static as Katie's finger lifted from the button.
"No!" Earl cried.
Katie grabbed the bundle of wires going into the back of the desk and pulled. Something heavy thumped into the back of the desk from the inside, and Katie braced her foot on the desk as she got a firmer grip on the wires. After another strong yank, the wires ripped out of whatever they were plugged into, the frayed ends spitting blue sparks in the dim light. She grabbed the monitors and smashed them on a corner of the desk. The screens broke into a spider's web of cracks. They hung limply off the sides of the desk by their cords, and now his surveillance system was crippled.
She could hear him coming up the stairs. He was frantic now, and hearing him hobbling sounded like a demented octopus slapping up the steps.
When she made her way through the crawlspace and was out in the hallway again, she left the closet door open, hiding in a darkened doorway by the staircase.
Grunts and hisses echoed through the house as Earl came into view. Blood was on his hands, no doubt from inspecting his wound, and he left it on the banister and the walls as he slapped on a light switch next to him. He rounded the corner and spotted the open closet. His nostrils flared and his teeth ground together so loudly that Katie could hear the ache in his jaw. He disappeared into the closet.
Katie hurried across the hall to the empty bedroom at the end. She grabbed the broom she'd left there then slammed the closet door shut behind him. She proceeded to use the end of the broom handle to smash the lights in the ceiling, working her way toward the stairs and leaving Earl in darkness again.
She descended to the second floor and smashed all the lights in the hallway starting from the far end. The closet door slammed into the wall somewhere above her and she knew she wouldn't have much time before he reached her. But she took the time she did have to lean into various rooms on her way to the stairs and smash the bulbs she could find. Moonlight came in through the windows of each room, but all that could be seen were silhouettes moving around in the cold, dark blues of the house.
"You bitch!" Earl screamed. He flew down the stairs like a raging bull, bouncing off the wall next to him for balance. He nearly lost his footing and sailed down like a pinwheel. When he got to the second floor he stopped and looked around the darkness. Behind his rattling breaths the house was quiet. His slippered foot stepped on another patch of broken glass and he waited for the dull crunch to dissipate before listening again.
Something small and hard caught him right in the jaw and he fell like a giant redwood tree.
He landed in another patch of glass and the whole house shook. A grunt escaped him and his lips peeled back into a hateful grimace.
Katie stood over him holding the broom. She jabbed the handle into him, hitting him between two ribs. A huge gasp of breath surged from his lungs like clapping an air bubble in a paper bag. She turned the broom around and bashed him in the face with it, letting the harder edge of it do the talking.
Earl raised an arm to defend himself, and by the time he rolled over, she was gone. Shallow lacerations covered his arms and his cheek. A line of blood dripped into his mouth and he tasted the sharpness of it. It set him off like a shark in the water.
Katie retreated downstairs to the ground floor, breaking more lights while being careful of where she stepped; she was in bare feet and Earl had long since hidden her shoes that she came to the house in. When she was in the living room, her whole body shaking from the adrenaline, she waited and listened.
Earl drew himself back up to his feet on the floor above her. His uneven steps danced in sorrowful groans across the ceiling. But he wasn't moving toward the stairs. He was making a detour... getting something, maybe.
Katie waited, becoming increasingly unsure of herself as the time ticked away. Her courage was dissipating and she wasn't sure what would be left of it if he took too long.
Come down the stairs. Get down here right now! Come on!
Earl came to the stairs. He was slow... taking his time. Something else accompanied his footsteps. Something heavy dragging across the floor. He must have been holding it from the handle. Something metallic.
The blood drained from Katie's face. A dizzying madness lodged itself in her chest and she shied away into the darkness, trying to be as quiet as she could.
When Earl reached the front door, he turned down the long hallway, holding the axe in his hands. He took a hobbling step forward. And then another one. He was patient and careful. When he reached the kitchen, he kept his back to the wall as he peeked in, ready for something to jump out at him.
But no flying broom handles this time.
He continued down the hall, listening. He eyed the basement door, then the living room at the end. It was hard to see in the dark. Hard to hear as his slippers crunched over broken glass.
The ironwood floor creaked behind him.
When Earl turned he was met with blinding light. He held the axe up, trying to shield himself from the glare.
The straw end of the broom sailed over it and came down on his head. It was soft, but firm enough to painfully shove his neck down. The white light from the flashlight bobbed and jerked as the broom retracted and swung again and again, picking at him like a pack of crows. He was hit in the head, in the face, the midsection, his legs, his groin, in a frantic and flurrying attack. He managed to brush away some of the blows with his arms, but not all of them.
Katie turned the broom around and thrust the handle into his stomach. She tried to retract it, but it caught on something, and in an upward thrust of the axe, Earl yanked it away from her. The broom clattered against the wall and fell to the floor by his feet, leaving Katie with nothing but the flashlight she found in a kitchen drawer.
Earl's eyes were squinted, but they were starting to become accustomed to the light shining in them. His rage from before was gone and now a simple smile touched his face.
Katie stumbled backward as he approached, and she rounded the corner into the
kitchen, fleeing from him like a mouse from a cat. He chased her into the dining room, to the living room, back again to the hallway. She turned half-cocked to see how close he was and stepped on a large piece of glass with her heel. She gasped and looked down in horror at what she'd done. Katie stumbled into the wall then sank to the floor as she plucked the shard out. She reached up for the doorknob to the basement.
Earl rounded the corner and entered the hallway, calmly approaching with his axe.
"Wait!" Katie cried as she clung to the doorknob, armed only with the flashlight she was still shining in his face. "You can't hurt me!"
Earl stopped.
The adrenaline was pumping in her veins more than ever now. Her words came out in quick volleys. "You've never actually hurt a single hair on my head. You can't! Because you need me! You need me to be Elizabeth!" An air of something that was almost smugness came over her at this realization, which topped off her courage and made her sit up a bit straighter. "Ha, I get it now. No matter what I do, you can never hurt me. Because you need m—"
A loud bang rattled the hallway like a gunshot.
Earl jerked the axe out of the cleft in the now severely demented doorknob, and Katie looked at her hand that had been holding it, seeing an empty space where the index and middle fingers used to be.
Katie tried to say something but nothing came out. Blood oozed from her two stumped fingers and she looked down in horror as she saw the lifeless digits on the floor mixing with the glass and spots of her blood. She looked up just in time to see the axe coming for her face. "Oh!" she cried.
She ducked it and the axe head walloped into the hard wood. The basement door was ajar and she pulled it open, scrambling into darkness.
She took the stairs down like a three-legged dog as she clutched onto the flashlight with her good hand. She couldn't get her mind off of her severed fingers or how there was no pain—there was only a dull pulse. I can't feel it at all! I can't feel it at all!
The Haunting of Ironwood Page 15
