The Third Floor

by The Third Floor (epub)

  THEIR NEW HOME IS OUT TO GET THEM

  Welcome to Angel Hill, Missouri, a town that shot blood from the ground at its own groundbreaking. There are only two roads in or out of town, and everything within those borders is subject to the whims of reality. Those who grew up here are immune to the town's peculiarities. But Jack and Liz have just moved here, and for their young son, Joey, it's almost like coming home again.

  As the Kitches start settling into their new home, a large abandoned house in need of a lot of TLC, Angel Hill welcomes them the only way it knows how. Footsteps in the middle of the night. Voices on the phone. Their big empty house wasn't so empty after all. There's a presence, and it's growing stronger. And angrier.

  DOES MADNESS LIVE ON AFTER DEATH?

  A hulking figure stalks the halls while childlike voices whisper in mourning. And there's something unexplainable happening to Joey. His hair is shorter now, and his eyes . . . they didn't used to be that color, did they? And that birthmark on his neck looks more like a scar every day. Jack doesn't want to believe his own eyes, but for Liz the threat is all too real, and it's closing in.

  From the invisible shapes under the sheets, the eyes she feels on her constantly, and the banging coming from the third floor . . . is that something trying to get in? Or something wanting out? Welcome to Angel Hill.

  THE THIRD FLOOR

  C. Dennis Moore

  Chapter One

  The Kitches entered Angel Hill the same way everyone did: US 169. They came from the south, having arrived after an almost two day drive from Houston. They spent the night just over the Missouri border in a small town they couldn't remember the name of and drove the rest of the way to the northern part of the state in one stretch. Jack was ready for bed. Liz was ready for something besides sitting in the car. Joey was asleep in the back seat.

  Once they entered town, Liz was ready to find the first motel and search for the house in the morning.

  “Come on,” Jack said. “We’re in town now; we’ll just find the house. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  "We don't even know the streets here," Liz said. "Let's just get some sleep and we’ll find the house in the morning."

  "I've got directions," Jack countered, pulling directions from his breast pocket. He handed it to Liz, then turned on the dome light. "Read it to me."

  Liz took the paper and tried to focus her eyes in the glare of the light.

  "Turn right when you get to Vogul," she said.

  "Then what?" he asked.

  "Then turn left when you get to Seventh Street."

  Jack followed her directions, turning when he found the street she mentioned, then looking for the next one. And, like Jack had said, before they knew it, the Kitches were on Fourth Street, pulling up in front of their new house. Liz looked past her husband to the three-story block standing thirty feet back from the street. Even with a street lamp in front of their house, it was dark. Not just the house, but everything around it, as if the house sucked up any light that dared come near it.

  "That's it?" Liz asked, sounding less than thrilled.

  "That's it," Jack said. He didn't sound entirely convinced, himself.

  "Is there going to be electricity?"

  "Of course," he said. "I had it turned on two days ago. And the Realtor said they'd have it aired out for us. The only things we'll be missing tonight are beds."

  They got out and Liz lifted Joey from the back seat while Jack got the sleeping bags from the rear compartment. He closed the door and went up to the porch. After some jiggling and fighting, they got the door opened and were inside. Jack locked the door behind them.

  "So they aired it out," Liz asked, "or they were supposed to air it out."

  "She said they did," Jack said, wincing at the smell of dust. He found a light switch and flipped it. Nothing happened. "Nice to know quality work is alive and well in Angel Hill," he said.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Downstairs," he said, leading the way.

  The porch entered onto a landing between the first two floors and the way down looked, to Liz, like a physical invitation to Hell. "You didn't bring a flashlight, did you, Mr. Genius?" she teased.

  "We weren't supposed to need one." He missed the last step and stumbled, spilling the sleeping bags and his keys all over the dark hall. There was a jangling and Jack said, "Shit!"

  "What,” Liz asked, shifting Joey to her other shoulder.

  "I think I just kicked the keys down the cold air vent."

  "Nice."

  “Hush up."

  They found one of the bedrooms--at least, they thought it was a bedroom--in the dark by running a hand along the wall until coming to a doorway. That was where they spent the night. They spread the sleeping bags on the floor, slept on one, covered with the other. In the middle of the night Jack woke up when he heard a door close, then footsteps padding down the hall. He reached over and felt Liz next to him. Joey had to pee, he thought, then was asleep again before his son came back. He woke up again, what seemed like only seconds later, to Joey's screams.

  Shit, Jack thought, he's realized he doesn't know where he is. He's lost in the hall in the dark.

  He began to get up, then realized Joey was right next to him. Liz was already comforting the boy who was crying over a nightmare. Jack put his head back down and fell asleep again instantly.

  By the time he woke up, Joey and Liz were gone. Jack raised his head and looked around, trying to force focus on the room. Liz had opened the windows, and Jack's first Angel Hill summer breeze blew by. He leaned up and realized they'd spent the night in the living room. He could see Liz in the kitchen just ten feet from him. She had her back to him, staring out the back door. From outside, he heard Joey laughing.

  "What time is it?" he asked.

  She didn't answer, so he asked it again, louder. Liz jumped and caught herself before she yelled. “Shit, you scared me.” She looked at her watch. "It's almost nine."

  "Good, the movers should be here by noon. We can get something to eat and be back with plenty of time"

  "Plenty of time for what?" she asked.

  "Good point," he said.

  Then Joey rushed in, slamming the tin storm door behind him. "Dad," he said. "Is this whole house ours?"

  "It sure is," he said, sitting up and smoothing the wrinkled length of his pant legs. "Will this be enough room for all your toys, do you think?"

  "It might be," Joey said. Then he turned to Liz. "Who lives up there?" He pointed toward the ceiling.

  "Nobody lives up there," she answered. "The whole building is our house. And nobody else’s."

  "Wow," Joey said, his eyes wide with childish joy.

  "Yep," Jack said, pulling his shirt down over his stomach, "all ours, babe. And we can do anything we want to it. What color would you like your bedroom to be?"

  "Pancakes," Joey said.

  "Pancakes."

  "Yep," he said, smiling wide. "Then if I wake up some day before you and Liz, I won't be hungry waiting for you to get up and fix my breakfast."

  "I see," Jack said, smiling as he stuffed his feet into his shoes. "Tell you what, how about we have pancakes for breakfast now, and while we do that, we can pick a color for your bedroom."

  "Okay."

  Jack went to brush his teeth, and when he came back he said, “Shit, I forgot I dropped my keys last night.”

  “I’ve got a set in my purse,” Liz said. “We can look for yours when we get back.”

  “And we don’t know where the restaurants are.”

  "Just drive. We'll find something, or someone who can tell us. Stop at a gas station, if you see one."

  While Jack drove the unfamiliar streets of Angel Hill and Joey played in the back seat, Liz w
hispered to Jack, "It's been a year now, Jack, and he still calls me Liz."

  "I'm sorry," he said back, quietly. "Give him time. He's six. For the first five years of his life, the boy didn't call anyone Mom. He met you as Liz. When he's ready, all right? Just relax. At the very least, you're more mother to him than his real mother ever was."

  "That doesn't help. That's all the more reason, in fact."

  "He will. I'm telling you. Just let him do it when he's ready. Here's a gas station. Let me fill up and we'll find out where the closest restaurant is."

  Jack came back from paying for the gas, holding a map under his arm. "The guy inside said there's a diner on . . . " he unfolded the map and scanned it, starting in the top left corner and moving across, then down an inch, and back again until he found, "tenth and Marshall. Well, that's easy to find." He started the car and pulled away, heading for breakfast.

  They were soon walking into the Grand Prize Diner and heading for a booth. Jack and Liz grabbed menus and Joey pulled the dessert card from the wire mount against the wall, staring with big eyes at the ice creams and pies.

  "Pancakes, first," Jack said. "If you've got room left, we'll think about ice cream."

  "Okay. I'm gonna eat twelve, or maybe a dozen pancakes," Joey said. "I'm starving to death."

  "We'll see," Jack said.

  A waitress came and wrote down their orders, smiling at Joey as she walked away.

  "Did you have a hard time finding the bathroom last night, Joe?" Jack asked.

  "What?" Joey replied.

  "When you got up last night to pee," Jack said. "Did you get lost, not knowing where you were?"

  "I didn't get up," Joey said. "Except when I had a bad dream."

  "No, I heard you close the bathroom door and come back down the hall."

  "Huh-uh," Joey said. He was still eyeing the desserts.

  "Was it you?" Jack asked his wife.

  "I didn't get up," she said. She stared out the window at the strange new city. "It's not a very . . . what's the word I want? . . . classy place, is it?"

  "Angel Hill? I don't suppose it's any different than any other city. It's smaller than Houston, but it's big enough."

  "But it's nine-thirty in the morning. It's the beginning of summer. Where's the sunshine, the birds, and the sounds of lawnmowers?"

  The food came and Joey dove into his pancakes, stuffing half of one into his mouth before Jack had the chance to ask if he wanted syrup. Liz and Jack ate hungrily, but civilly, unlike Joey who acted as if he hadn't eaten his own dinner the night before, plus the half of Liz's cheeseburger she didn't finish.

  "What’s the rush?" Jack asked.

  "I'm hurrying up so I can have ice cream."

  Back in the car, Jack asked Liz, "So you didn't get up last night?"

  "No," she said. "And I'm pretty sure he didn't, either."

  "Man, I was sure I woke up for a second and heard him coming back down the hall."

  "I don't think he would have found the bathroom that easily by himself, in the dark, in a house he's never been in before."

  "I didn't think so, either. But I was sure I heard him. What was his nightmare about last night, did he tell you?"

  "No," she said. "He just said he was scared, as if we couldn't guess that. Did you hear that scream he let out?"

  "No, it only scared the shit out of me. I woke up thinking he must have cut an arm off or something."

  "Me too--turn left here--I about had a heart attack myself."

  Jack glanced into the mirror and saw Joey watching out the window, his head moving from side to side, and his mouth moving in silent song.

  They pulled in front of the house and looked at it again, this time in the full light of day.

  "Well, I guess it doesn't look so bad," Liz said. "It sure is big."

  "Sure is," Jack said. "But you were the one who wanted a house you could work on. They said the top two floors needed a lot of work, so have at it."

  "I meant I'd like to paint a couple walls, maybe get new carpet in the living room. I didn't mean I wanted to do an entire house."

  "I'll help you, of course," he said.

  "Sure you will."

  They got inside and had just decided which of the two bedrooms would belong to whom when the banging started. Jack slid Joey off his back and went up to the front door to let the movers in. Their house in Houston hadn't been a third the size of this one, so everything they had fit on the first floor. Liz directed traffic, while Jack helped unload the truck and bring boxes and lamps, the microwave cart, and an end table up to the house.

  Meanwhile, Joey explored.

  The bottom floor consisted of two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, a bathroom, and a hall that divided the floor, with the bedrooms on one side, the rest of the rooms on the other. At one end of the hall stood a wall, at the other end the stairs went up to the landing at the front door. A 180-degree turn led to the second floor. There were four more rooms up here and another bathroom. A third flight of stairs ran to another landing and another 180-degree turn that led to the third floor. This floor had one large central room that branched off to four smaller rooms and a final bathroom.

  Joey stood on the top landing, staring up at the third floor, not wanting to go all the way up. He looked up at the ceiling that seemed to rise forever above him. It was easy to feel so small in this house. It would be easy to get lost. He couldn't believe they had this whole place to themselves. Maybe there were people who lived here nobody knew about. It would also be easy to hide, especially up here, without anyone finding you. Joey took a step up, then froze when he heard movement up above, from somewhere on the third floor.

  He was too short to see over the top of the stairs without going further. He stopped and listened, but the sound didn't come again. He waited, then decided he really had heard something, but didn't want to see what it was. He didn't have to see to know it scared him.

  Only silence came. He didn't even hear his dad and the other men coming in and out of the front door with their things. Joey turned and bounded back down the steps, hurrying as if being chased, and he knew if he turned around, he just might see something coming down after him. He raced to the bottom floor and into the living room, leaping onto the couch.

  "What's the matter, Joey?" Liz asked. She scooted a box of dishes into the kitchen.

  "Do you promise my bedroom is down here?"

  "Of course, silly-head. All our bedrooms are down here. It'll be a while before we move anything upstairs."

  "Do you promise, even if Dad says I have to move my bedroom upstairs, do you promise I can stay down here?"

  Liz looked at him crookedly, wondering what was the matter.

  "Of course. He wouldn't make you sleep upstairs unless you were older and you decided you wanted to."

  "Promise?"

  "What's wrong? Did he say you were going to sleep up there? He was just trying to scare you. He's being silly."

  "He didn't say anything. I just don't want to go up there."

  "Okay. Now come here and help me put up these dishes.”

  Joey ran into the kitchen where he was safer with Liz than on the couch.

  Liz put away the last plate and closed the last cabinet as Jack came into the room, rubbing his eyes.

  "All done."

  "You got everything?"

  "I hope so. If I didn't, it's still in Houston. The truck's empty. Wow, you got all this stuff put away already?"

  "Already? You've been unloading that truck for over two hours. I didn't even think we had two hours’ worth of stuff."

  "Well, we put some of it away as we went. The beds are put together and . . . listen."

  Liz was quiet, head cocked.

  Jack held his breath and waited. After a minute, he said, "Maybe not. I thought I heard a mouse in the wall. I didn’t even think to check for mice."

  "Well go get some traps," Liz said. "We're not sleeping here with mice. I'm not coming in here in the morning to find mouse poop on the count
er. Go, go. There's a store in town somewhere. Don't come back without at least half a dozen."

  Jack groaned and rubbed his head.

  "But I'm so tired from carrying every single piece of furniture we have out of the truck, up to the house, and down all those stairs," he whined. "Can't I do it later? Or tomorrow? Tomorrow sounds like a good time."

  "No," she said. "I'm telling you, if I see a mouse run past me I'm gonna freak out. Please."

  "Well," he assented, "we do need food, too. I'll grab a few things for the next couple days. Then you can go get all the good stuff once we get settled. How's that?"

  "Whatever," Liz waved him away, "just don't come back without traps."

  "I won't," he said, kissing her head. "I'll see if Joey wants to go. Where is he?"

  Liz scanned the kitchen. "He was in here, helping me. I don't know."

  Jack found him asleep on the couch. Joey's two middle fingers hung limply from his mouth and his knees were tucked up underneath him.

  "I guess he doesn't want to go."

  "That's okay. I'm kind of beat, myself. I'm gonna lay down for a little bit, too." Liz stretched and yawned, mocking Jack who wrinkled his face and growled at her. He kissed her again and was gone.

  Liz found their bed, unmade, of course, in the bedroom directly across the hall from the living room. If she kept the doors open, she'd be sure to hear Joey if we woke up. She stretched out on the bare mattress, covering her head with her arms, and drifted off immediately.

  Her mind went far away and her thoughts made everything a jumble, mixing Joey calling her Liz with the thought of Alex. Things could change completely in one year. It took Alex only that long to decide their marriage wasn't working. So why, after a year, did Joey still call her Liz? Jack was probably right, Joey would call her Mom when he was ready. And what if he never did? Was it really a big deal? Liz had already been more mother to him than the real one. Everyone knew that. What he called her shouldn’t matter that much. She knew he already thought of her as a mother, and that would be enough.

  She came half out of her doze when the bed squeaked and she felt someone lying behind her. She didn't want to wake up, not yet.