by Mirren Hogan
Flynn nodded. “Nothing surprises me anymore. If you told me we’d go outside now and meet an army of zombie circus clowns, I don’t think I’d even blink. So why not a freaky, cursed house? Should we go and check it out?” He looked reluctant, and glanced at Makani’s injured leg.
“Ummm, probably. Flynn, it might be nothing. It might just be where he dropped the phone. But we should follow the leads we have.” Makani kept pacing, trying to remember more about what she knew about that particular area. “It might not even be that house. The entire area is full of reports about hauntings. But won’t you feel better if we looked?”
“I’ll feel better when we find them,” he said. “But yeah, we should go and check it out.”
“Can I come?” Annie looked at Flynn, then Makani. “I can monitor the cops’ radio and make sure they won’t turn up uninvited.”
“If you want. It’s always nice to have someone to watch our backs.” Makani shrugged and grinned. “This is like high school. We used to do stupid things like this. Go ghost hunting, try and see if we could find weird stuff . . . Kind of hoping we won’t now, though.”
“Like a dead body?” Annie asked brightly. Then her smile faded as she caught the look on Flynn’s face. “Uh, sorry. Sometimes my mouth runs away with me.”
“I noticed,” Flynn said dryly. He gave Makani a “does-she-have-to-come?” look and opened the door to let them all out.
“Come on, you two. Daylight’s wasting.” The worst thing that could happen would be trying to do this at night. Makani didn’t know if they could repeat their performance in the karst from the previous evening. “Do we still have the seawater and stuff in the car?”
“Some,” Flynn replied. “I left one of the water guns in the karst though. I didn’t have enough hands to hold everything. Maybe we should get holsters.” His boyish grin was back.
“You two are insane,” Annie said cheerfully from the seat behind Flynn. “You still need your door fixed though.”
“Some of us don’t have a ton of extra cash to spend on fixing stuff.” Makani popped up from the floorboards as the jeep started. “If I did, I’d fix my hot plate.”
“I know a guy who could weld it on.” Annie got out a stick of gun and popped it into her mouth. “You’d have to get out the other side though.”
Makani actually considered that idea as she started them east toward the residential part of the island. “I really wouldn’t mind, although I might not pass safety inspections. I know a guy who does them, though. I’m sure he’d do me a solid.”
“Do you a solid what?” Flynn raised his eyebrows at her. “Not that I’m jealous or anything.”
Annie snorted and popped a bubble.
“It’s an expression! Relax! The language barrier with foreigners . . . ” Makani rolled her eyes and concentrated on the road. If Flynn wanted to be jealous, he should focus on her unnatural love for the jeep. Any sane person would have set it on fire and collected the insurance money years ago.
“It’s a weird expression if you ask me,” Flynn muttered. He tapped his foot restlessly on the floor, his hand clenching and releasing the handle over and over.
“Yeah, yeah. Chillax, brah—we’re almost there. Just gotta check out the house. Might not even need to go in.” Although, as she spoke those words, a chill ran up her spine. The likelihood of them not having to investigate further had worse odds than winning the lottery. Especially since the lottery remained illegal in Hawaii. “Just relax. We’re almost there.” Makani reached a hand over and grabbed Flynn’s.
“I’m relaxed,” he lied. “It’s just excess adrenaline. You know me, the adrenaline junkie.” He might have been convincing if he’d smiled instead of smirked.
“Right. Well, save some of that adrenaline. We’re almost there.” The roads were all laid on a steep incline, the hilly area covered in old, little houses. Most people who lived in Kaimuki had lived there longer than Aunty Elsie had been alive, so their homes were throwbacks to a world where the Cold War was still going strong and Don Ho still had a hit on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. On one corner, surrounded by a completely bare dirt yard covered in trash, the house was dilapidated and run-down. Windows were boarded up, and the skeletons of bougainvillea bushes on the sides were trying to grow over the walls and roof, as if to re-consign it to the land. The jeep skidded to a stop and Makani stared at the house, fear starting to creep up her spine.
At the front door sat five pairs of shoes, three belonging to children and two that probably fit adults.
The silence was eerie, broken by the sound of Flynn opening and closing his door and Annie in the back switching her equipment on.
“Should we knock?” Flynn asked softly but urgently. He looked ready to break down the door.
“No. Take the bag. Be ready for anything. Annie, call my phone if you need us out.” She flipped the knife out of her back pocket and held it at the ready. The air felt heavy and oppressive as they made their way to the door. Jiggling the knob, Makani found it unlocked and took a deep breath before opening it. The darkness inside was unnaturally pervasive, and she had to flip on her headlamp to see anything.
It smelled like raw meat and rotten bits. All around there was garbage, the walls graffitied and torn up. Several old panels, once covered in shoji paper, had been pulled from their tracks and hung limply into the main hall that ran down the center of the house. She led the way and minced around the litter. She heard a slithering in the shadows, a rustling of feet and maybe wings around the corner. “I’ve never been in here before . . . ”
“I wonder why,” Flynn said ironically. “Maybe because it smells like a cross between wet cat and dog pee?” He waved his hand in front of his nose and then froze suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” She froze mid-step and looked around, her hands starting to tremble. The knife instinctively came to the level of her eyes as she strained to listen. Faintly, from down a hallway, the sounds of shuffling and soft crying filtered toward them. “Down that way . . . ” Her feet were silent as she started picking over the trash in the direction of the noise.
Flynn followed behind, careful not to disturb the piled discards of the last residents and tenants of the supposedly evil house. The silence was broken by the yowl of a cat as it jumped out from behind a pile of boxes and bolted off the way they’d come.
“Bloody hell,” Flynn hissed, his hand on his chest.
“Yeah, let’s just wake up the dead.” She immediately regretted that word choice. There was a distinct possibility that could become a reality. Brushing off a chill, she straightened herself up and gestured toward their destination. “Come on. Door at the end.” The hallway seemed to go on forever, and despite the ridiculous warmth of the locale, the house was practically chilly.
Pressing an ear against the door, she heard the faint sounds of sniffling and a drum beating in time to her heart. The bam-bam-bam of the quick rhythm coming from the room was punctuated by a slamming and slithering.
“Flynn . . . come here.” She waved him over to the door, gesturing for him to listen.
He stepped over something and joined her at the door. He pressed his ear against it and frowned before mouthing, “What the hell?” He looked worried and confused in equal measure.
“I don’t know.” She started backing away from the door and raised the knife again. There was nothing to do but go in and investigate. While no one could ever say Makani was a coward, her heart was pounding as fast as the drum beat. Or did the drum match her heartbeat? Taking three deep breaths, she put her hand back on the door knob and slowly started turning it.
The door opened on its own. In fact, it slammed open, rattling the walls around them, and Makani nearly screamed in fright. In the room, she saw the source of the drumming: the old woman with the stringy hair. Huddled in the corner, covered in gore, was Flynn’s family. Hanging from the ceiling, a collection of nightmare monsters crawled and squirmed, banging on the plaster with wings and tails, teeth and
claws alike.
CHAPTER 8
All of the worst parts of Flynn’s nightmares were realized in one room.
It would have been large if it was empty, but filled with all of those—whatever they were—the walls seemed to close in. With every drum beat, they got closer and closer, pressing and contracting. The walls and ceiling writhed with descending creatures, all hissing and snarling at each other and their prey.
Prey . . . Flynn didn’t want to think about his family that way, but they looked like snared rabbits. He could see the terror in their eyes, hear them whimper. He could see an artery in Emma’s forehead, beating harder and harder by the moment.
“Flynnie?” Emma blinked.
“Emma, sit tight, we’ll get you out!” Flynn called.
Assuring her from across the room was one thing, actually getting them out was another. He was reminded of one of the video games Emma had played when she was younger. With those, she’d have grabbed her controller and blasted her way through. But this was real life, real lives in their hands.
Makani inched into the room, knife drawn and ready to slash. “Holy shit.”
The stuff of nightmares writhed on the ceiling like a living Shunga print. A clawed hand reached down and grabbed at them, almost catching Makani’s hair. The blade flashed up and sliced off a digit, which dissolved into a pink ooze.
The old woman smiled a gleeful, vicious smile. Only here, in the center of the nightmares, could fear come to life so beautifully.
Flynn followed Makani into the room, spray can in one hand, lighter in the other. He ignited one monster, which in turn set the one beside it on fire. They sizzled and then dissolved like dust, scattering over the floor, covering everything it touched. He barely noticed. His attention was all on getting through to his family.
Makani scrambled away from a face with gnashing teeth, landing by the two older children and their father. “Hi. We need to get you guys outta here. Now!” She grabbed the girls and pulled them close to her, leaving the man to fend for himself.
The girls squealed and clung to each other, weeping softly. Their clothes were ragged, hair all tangled, but they seemed to have all of their body parts intact.
Flynn ducked under a tentacle with a sucker at the end of it and swung China up into his arms. She clung to him like an abalone to rock. Crying softly, Emma grabbed his arm and pressed herself close to him. They glanced back over their shoulders as the monsters all seemed to turn and close in on Jason.
“Frickin’ move, y’fat ass!” Makani grabbed the big man’s arm, and with a strength born from irritation and fear, she propelled the man forward and away. Perhaps it would seem like she did the wrong thing, getting Jason to safety before the children. But Flynn understood exactly what she was doing. It was better to remove the dead weight first, and focus on the kids. At least she could carry them, if it came down to that.
This was usually the time when the hero or heroine would give a pep talk and get the weaker individuals in the party to pull their own weight. That’s how it always worked. Or, the hero or heroine would be able to fight off the majority of assailants with one hand while coddling the rest of the party. But this was not how things would play out.
Instead, Flynn glanced at Makani as she made a phone call to Annie. Hopefully, if Annie answered and Makani wasn’t talking, she would understand that her assistance was needed. Someone needed to get the kids and their parents out at least. The creatures converged on the spot above them, crawling over each other. The woman pushed the children toward the door, clawed hands and gnashing jaws following.
Flynn herded Emma and China out the door, then turned around for the other two girls. Both were crying. No one could blame them. The ordeal must have been horrendous, and it wasn’t over yet. He reached his hand toward them but was pushed forward as Annie careened into him.
“Makani . . . holy crap!” Annie skidded to a stop and stared. “What the hell?”
“‘Hell’ might be the right word! Get everyone ou—!” Makani’s words were cut off when the old woman pushed her down flat and stepped on her. Filthy little feet dug into her back, toenails long enough to cut into her skin. For someone so frail, she was heavy. Too heavy for Makani to push off or to breathe. Panic set in, and she gasped and struggled, but her arms and legs wouldn’t listen. She lay there, jerking in her effort to move.
Her frantic fingers dug into moldy tatami mats, but even the smallest movements became too much effort. With the last gulping breath she could stir up, Makani forced her nearly paralyzed throat to cough up a single word: “Kanashibari.” The choking ghost. And this one was laughing. Laughing and laughing and laughing as Makani was flattened beneath the growing weight on her back
Through the noise, a faint cracking could be heard, a fragile rib giving way under the strain.
Nothing was going to move the hag. Silently, Makani cursed and swore. Her fingers twitched as she tried to move, to break the fear that kept her pinned down. It took long moments that felt like an eternity to draw a single breath. All the hag did was wiggle her toes deeper into Makani’s back, making tears of pain roll down her face. Even her eyes wouldn’t blink. Every part of Makani was frozen in place.
Annie grabbed Emma and one of the older girls and tugged them out into the corridor. The other girl followed, just in time as Flynn shoved Jason out behind them.
Flynn turned back to where she lay on the stained floor, helpless. “Makani!” He started back across the room, ducking arms, claws and gnashing teeth. He flamed them if they got too close and got singed more than once by burning flesh. He was coughing by the time he reached Makani. “Get off her!” He tried to shove the woman back, but she didn’t move an inch. She just turned and laughed at him, surprisingly perfect teeth flashing.
“No. She belongs to us. She created this nightmare. She’s part of the nightmare.” The beating of the drum was the old woman’s heart, thumping wildly in her chest. So wildly, the organ could be seen pulsing through her rags. The monsters closed in around them, covering the windows, darkness swallowing the room.
“The hell she does.” Flynn raised the spray can and set the contents alight, right into her face. The greasy hair should have caught fire, or her face should have melted. Instead, the flames divided on either side of her face and passed around her. They joined up on the other side and singed a kappa.
“Crap,” Flynn swore. “Salt won’t work, will it?” he asked, helplessly.
The hag grinned and shook her head, but suddenly, she gripped her ears and doubled over, blood pouring from the corners of her eyes. Her mouth was wide open as if she were screaming silently. She stumbled off Makani and fell to the floor, rolling around and clutching her head in agony.
“Who knew a dog whistle really would come in handy?” Annie asked, pulling a bright pink whistle from her lips.
“Keep blowing!” Flynn grabbed Makani’s arm and pulled her upward. “Come on, we have to get out of here!” The air smelled like burning pork and ozone. Makani clutched weakly at Flynn, trying to get onto legs that didn’t seem to want to take her weight.
He put an arm around her to give her support, ducking under a bony arm and its long claws that reached for them. They labored toward the door. Something grabbed Makani’s ankle and tried to pull them back. She shook her foot until they broke free and bolted for the door.
Every breath was a struggle, and Makani looked like she was about to pass out. Making the few steps out of the house and into the yard was awful, and she was relying almost entirely on Flynn to keep her upright. With a gasp, she whispered, “Annie . . . where’s Annie?”
***
Flynn looked around. “She was right behind us. Damn it.” He helped Makani down near where Emma knelt beside China and started back toward the house. A siren sounded from the road and he froze. Two HPD cars came flying around a corner and screamed to a stop behind the jeep.
Asa ripped his sunglasses off and shot out of his car. Whacking the roof, he signaled his par
tner to call for fire and ambulance, and hurried over to the people on the ground. “Shit, cuz . . . how do you manage to get in trouble like this?” He looked around, counting the children and adults. “This your boyfriend’s family?” Asa apparently already knew the answer. He could only chuckle when Makani flipped him off.
“Yeah, but there’s someone left inside . . . woah . . . ” Flynn raised his hand to shield his eyes as the roof of the house burst into flames. In seconds, smoke poured out of open windows and the front door.
“All right, I’m going in. Stay here, wait for the ambulance.” Asa waved the other officers over, and he started toward the door. Holding a flashlight in one hand, his gun in the other, he went in. It took thirty seconds for him to find exactly who he was looking for and drag her out, smoke making them both cough hard. Down the street, sirens could be heard as the ambulance and fire trucks sped up, people spilling out to start working on the blaze and the injured children and adults.
Flynn retreated, happy to let professionals take control of the situation, and flopped down on the grass beside Makani. “Is that it? Is it over?” He felt weary down to the bone, and filthy. He wanted to wash, eat, sleep and then go back to having a normal life.
“I . . . I don’t know.” Her eyes were full of despair. She sucked in a shallow breath and winced. “But at least this part looks like it’s done.” Her lips, while pale, managed to turn up in the semblance of a sad smile.
He put an arm around her and kissed her head. “Thank you for saving my family.” He looked up. “Your turn with the ambo.” He gestured toward a paramedic heading their way.
***
“I hate hospitals.” It was a sure bet that’s where she would be heading. Broken ribs were nothing to laugh at. Between that, the smoke inhalation and the deep gouges on her back, Makani probably needed more than a tetanus shot and a bandage. “Your turn with the po-po.” She pointed at Asa, who was hovering just behind Flynn.
“Po-po? Seriously?” Flynn chuckled. With a sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and walked the few steps to Makani’s cousin. “I’m sure you’re happy to see that I didn’t kill my family,” he said dryly.
