Waiting

by Stephen Jones

  “Help!”

  The liquefying floor oozed over his legs, pulling him down until he could hardly even crawl.

  “Val! Help! Frank! Anyone!”

  He was barely aware of the clatter of hurried footsteps and the shouting voices that followed. The clay was up to his chin and he couldn’t hold his head up any longer. He closed his eyes, struggling helplessly even as he felt himself drowning.

  “Gregory, it’s okay! It’s me!”

  He screamed, thrashing against the awful muck.

  “Wake up!”

  At last he opened his eyes, expecting to see everyone sinking into the mire as the house dissolved. But there was nothing there. He looked down at himself, bewildered to find that he was sitting on the floor. The hard, solid floor. Val was crouched beside him in her pajamas, staring wide-eyed into his face. He had a death grip on her arm. Frank and Mina stood a few feet away.

  “It was just a dream.” Val cupped her hands around his face.

  He shook his head and pushed her away as he got to his feet. “Uh-uh,” he said. “No way. That was no dream.”

  He looked at the others. It was obvious that they hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Frank shuffled his feet, but Mina’s expression was rapt and serious.

  “What happened?” she asked him.

  “The house,” he said. “It was melting. The whole floor, it just—it turned to liquid, like mud, and it was . . . trying to swallow me.”

  Frank picked up one of the chairs and rapped its legs against the floor.

  “It wasn’t like that before,” Gregory insisted. “I was sinking!” He looked down at himself, brushing at his arms and legs, but there was no evidence of the oozing substance that had almost devoured him. He looked pleadingly at Val. “I’m not making it up.”

  “I believe you,” she said, putting her arm around him.

  “I know you do.”

  He didn’t dare look at Frank, couldn’t face seeing the doubt in the other man’s face. Instead he cast a helpless glance at Mina. She still looked impossibly glamorous, even in her dressing gown, and he had the sudden thought that if she didn’t believe him, he would die of shame.

  But Mina nodded. “I believe you too.”

  Relieved, he sagged into a chair.

  “I don’t think anyone should stay down here alone,” Mina said. “There is something very bad in this house. I think it wants to separate us.”

  Mina Cloudminder wasn’t the first person to have approached the Human Protection League for help. Nor was she the first person Agent Dehner had ever impersonated.

  The real Mina had been terrified by the invitation to be part of a formal investigation into the notorious Iverson House. She knew its reputation. At least two people had died exploring it, and several others had gone missing over the years. It was an evil house, on an evil patch of ground. Once tribal land, the area had been claimed by white settlers after a bloody battle in the eighteenth century. No one knew the origin of the odd little house, but the ground it stood on had come to be known as Headless Hill.

  Mina had wanted nothing to do with any of it, and she had been on the verge of saying no. But then a friend put her in touch with the “Lovecraft Squad,” as he called them, and Director Nathan Brady had assigned Liz Dehner to the case. Fortunately for both women, Arthur Leland had never met the psychic whose services he’d requested, and Liz had easily stepped in to replace her. She even thought of herself as Mina now.

  Iverson House was well known to the HPL, having been the site of so many unexplained events over the years. But they had never had a chance to investigate it. Until now.

  Mina/Liz believed Gregory’s account of what he had experienced. She knew better than to dismiss such things as “just a dream” or “overactive imagination.” She was sure the two would-be investigators had had their share of such patronizing reactions before. They were passionate and committed to the cause, but also terribly naïve. As such, they were easy targets for malevolent forces. And this house was most certainly malevolent.

  She had sensed it from the moment she’d laid eyes on it. The whole design of the place was wrong. The air was heavy with menace and the uneven floors and walls seethed with hidden power. Whispers lurked at the edge of perception. Gregory had already heard them, and Mina felt certain that Val would hear them too. There was something monstrous here, and they were all in grave danger.

  “What do you mean, it wants to separate us?”

  Mina was disappointed that Frank was still so skeptical after her demonstration of her abilities. But then, he had probably spent the past few sleepless hours finding ways to rationalize what had happened.

  “We’re easier to attack on our own,” she said. “More vulnerable.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe any of that stuff. It’s three in the morning. Everything is scarier at night. It’s a primal instinct. It’s also when we have nightmares. It’s perfectly normal.”

  “There was nothing normal about it,” Gregory snarled.

  But Frank wouldn’t be deterred. “It’s all just a lot of spooky nonsense.”

  “But she read your mind,” Val said. She turned to Mina. “Didn’t you?”

  “She made some good guesses,” Frank said. “But honestly, it was so long ago I couldn’t tell you who was standing where when it happened or who moved first and who got hurt or didn’t. It was in the papers at the time and all our names were in it.”

  “But the song!” Val protested. “You were white as a ghost when she said that.”

  He pursed his lips, still shaking his head.

  Mina could see the struggle in his mind between cold hard facts and the possibility he didn’t want to accept. She knew he would be trying to remember if he’d ever mentioned that detail to anyone else, if there’d been someone she could have got the information from. She didn’t blame him for it. Most people wanted to believe that there was a rational explanation. It was far less frightening than the alternative—that there were forces at work beyond human understanding, forces that might wish us harm. The most stubborn of skeptics could never see that often their supposed “rational” explanation was actually more far-fetched than the idea of the supernatural.

  “Well, I’m going to listen to Mina,” Gregory said. “You weren’t here. You didn’t see what I saw.”

  “I’m not calling you a liar, son. I’m sure it felt real to you. I just—”

  “It was real!”

  Val put her arm around Gregory’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. “If my brother says it happened, then it happened.”

  Mina decided not to intervene. Nothing was going to convince Frank.

  The architect sighed and looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

  “You said yourself the house was weird,” Val reminded him.

  “Yes. It’s weird.” He gestured around the room. “It’s probably the worst design I’ve ever seen for a house. Definitely the ugliest. But that doesn’t mean it’s haunted. There’s no evidence that . . .” He broke off as his eyes fell on the recording equipment.

  Val followed his gaze and her eyes widened. “The cameras!”

  Gregory’s expression mirrored her own and he leapt up from his chair. “They must have caught something. Why didn’t we think of it before?” Mina knew why they hadn’t. The house hadn’t wanted them to. “Can you develop the film?” she asked.

  Gregory glanced up from the camera he was inspecting.

  “Yeah. But, um . . .” He exchanged a look with Val. They both looked nervous.

  “We left all the darkroom stuff in the car,” Val said softly.

  Frank gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh, and now the ghost hunters are afraid of the dark,” he said. “Marvelous!”

  Mina rounded on him. “The boy has just had a traumatic experience in this house. It’s hardly surprising that he doesn’t want to go out there, and I certainly don’t think there’s anything funny about it.”

  He
blinked in surprise and then nodded sheepishly. “You’re right. That was uncalled for. I’m sorry, kid.”

  Gregory just looked embarrassed.

  “If it will make you feel any better,” Frank said, “I’ll go get it.”

  “Really?” Val asked.

  “Really. Just give me the keys.” He smiled. “That is, if you trust me not to drive off in that little beauty.”

  That lightened the mood, and Gregory visibly relaxed. “Sure. No problem.” He gave Frank the keys and Mina handed him a flashlight.

  “Be careful on the path.” It was all the warning she dared offer, knowing he would spurn any suggestion of anything more dangerous than broken paving stones.

  The kids set about turning the adjoining room into a darkroom. Mina was curious to see what the pictures would show. She didn’t doubt Gregory’s story at all, but whatever power was at work had likely made sure there would be no evidence after the fact.

  Frank muttered to himself as he headed off. Things were going just as he could have predicted, with the three fruitcakes siding together against the voice of reason. He shouldn’t have made fun of the poor kid, but really— if he and his sister wanted to poke around scary old buildings looking for ghosts, they needed at least one backbone between them.

  The flashlight beam bounced along the winding path. The moon was almost bright enough not to need it, but he didn’t care for the idea of stepping off the stones into that awful mud.

  The path looked even more treacherous than he’d remembered. Jagged edges of pale paving stone stuck up from the ground like claws, and he edged carefully around the worst areas. How the hell had Mina done this walk in high heels?

  He was so intent on watching his feet that he didn’t notice the hulking shape directly in front of him until he was almost upon it. He drew up short with a gasp, thinking it was a bear. Instinct kicked in and he threw his hands up to cover his face. The flashlight flickered out as he stood there trembling, stranding him in the eerie glow of the moon. Slowly he lowered his arms, and as his eyes began to adjust, he saw the smile. It was wide and bright and filled with gleaming teeth.

  For several seconds he could only stare at it, frozen with shock. Then he relaxed as he realized what he was looking at. It was only the car. Smiley. Or Bettie. Or whatever. He laughed as his galloping heartbeat began to slow down. And then the laughter died in his throat as he understood what was wrong with the scene.

  He hadn’t reached the forecourt yet. He hadn’t even gone halfway down. The car was parked on the steep path, as though it had been making its own way up to the house.

  Frank shook his head to clear it. Maybe he was the one dreaming. If so, he was ready to wake up now. No, it was more likely that Gregory had come down in the night and moved the car here. But why? And how? Surely the incline was too sharp for it to manage.

  Before he had time to wonder further, the headlights flashed on, blinding him. At the same time the radio exploded into life at such a deafening volume that it made him jump. He stumbled and landed hard on the broken paving stones. The song started with a lively, bouncy piano riff that led into the harmonizing arpeggios of four male voices. Frank knew it. Such a harmless, playful song, but “At the Hop” sounded like a living threat here in the dead of night, blaring from a radio that no one had turned on.

  And then the car began to move.

  The engine wasn’t running, but the car was definitely moving. Inching closer. Creeping. Slowly it shifted its tires, alternating them like legs, pulling itself along at a slow, deliberate pace. Every forward lurch was filled with menace.

  Frank was already backing away, crab-walking over the sharp stones to get out of the way. He couldn’t seem to get his footing. He kicked his legs out, scrabbling for purchase, but the jutting stones seemed to slip away from him, vanishing into the quagmire. When his feet also began to sink into the mud and clay he fought back a surge of panic. Gregory had been telling the truth.

  He was helpless against the cloying ooze. And just like Gregory, he began to scream. It was no use. Inch by inch, the car moved closer, wriggling toward him, still blaring that infernal song. The others would never hear him over the noise. For a moment he dared to hope that they might at least hear the radio, might look outside and see what was happening. But then the right front tire came down on his stranded legs and pushed him deeper into the wet ground. By the time the tires reached his head, he was already gone.

  Mina left Val and Gregory working on the darkroom while she went upstairs to get dressed. No one would be getting any more sleep tonight, and she felt vulnerable in just her dressing gown. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable.

  The tight black slacks and black turtleneck made her look like a cat burglar, but it also gave her more freedom of movement. It had helped her once before, in a case the League had called “The Breathing Shadows Affair.” She’d been able to blend into the darkness and defeat the strange phantasmal swarm attacking the graveyard in Providence. She’d kept the outfit on hand ever since as a kind of good-luck charm. Tonight they needed all the luck they could get.

  She was hurrying back along the hallway when she felt a sharp pain in her head. For a moment she was blinded and she cried out. A quick succession of images flashed before her. The moon. Stones. A bear. She smelled something wet, like turned earth. Then a ghastly Cheshire cat grin swam out of the darkness, dancing in front of her.

  “Mina? Are you okay?”

  The voice seemed to come from far away, but when she opened her eyes, she saw Gregory standing right in front of her. She was on her knees in the hallway. She had no idea how long she’d been there.

  “Here, give me your hand,” he said.

  After a moment of disorientation, she put her clammy hand in his and he helped pull her to her feet. She was shaking all over. That awful grin was still there in her head, wild eyes blazing on either side of it. It was all she could see.

  Gregory shook her slightly. She opened her mouth to reassure him that she was fine. And then she heard the song. At first she thought it was just her, but she could tell from Gregory’s reaction that he was hearing it too.

  It was so loud it might be coming from the next room. Frank’s room. They both hurried inside and ran to the window, yanking the thin curtains aside.

  “Oh my God,” Gregory breathed.

  A car was halfway up the path, its radio blaring and its lights blinking on and off. It was rocking crazily from side to side, like an excited child. The carefree nature of the song only heightened the savagery of the car’s motion. There was something trapped beneath the wheels, something gradually sinking into the wet red clay of the hillside. No, Mina thought, suddenly feeling sick. Not sinking. Being buried.

  “Don’t look,” she said sharply, trying to pull Gregory away. But it was too late. He’d already seen it. Frank’s hand, rising from the mud beneath the tires, jerking with the vicious rhythm of the car. Then it was gone.

  Mina closed her eyes, pushing the image out of her mind. She had heard Frank’s screams inside her head, tasted the vile clay as it filled his mouth. She had felt his dying moments. And now she needed to clear her head of all of it if they were going to get out of this alive.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  The music had stopped. Gregory was still staring out the window. He looked shell-shocked.

  She asked him again, and his eyes went wide with fear. “Val! I left her downstairs!”

  He ran and she followed, stumbling in the open doorway and falling headlong into the hallway, where she landed in a heap. A lump of clay had emerged from the floor and tripped her. She was sure it hadn’t been there before. As she watched, it contorted, lengthening into a curling tentacle that reached for her exposed ankle.

  Gregory was shouting his sister’s name as he pounded down the stairs, and Mina thought she heard the girl calling back. She scrambled to her feet, but it was hard to balance. The floor was moving, warping. Just like Gregory had said. It was happening downstairs too.
She could sense it, feel it.

  Mina took a deep breath and focused intently on the house, trying to exert her influence and halt the spread of its power. The evil here wanted to drag them all down into the hideous mud.

  Hand over hand, using the wall for balance, she made her way down the hallway. The floor moved like a billowing sheet beneath her. Each time she touched the wall, her palm sank partly in and it took real effort to pull it back, as though she was battling glue.

  At last she reached the stairs . . . and gave a cry of dismay at what she saw. The treads had been absorbed into the shifting clay. There was no banister to hold on to, no rail for support. Just an undulating ramp leading down. The last thing she wanted to do was sit down and slide to the bottom, but she had no choice.

  Downstairs she could hear Val and Gregory calling her name. Before she could change her mind, she dropped to the floor and shoved herself forward. The writhing substance tried to stop her, clutching at her with coiling fingers of clay. Her training kicked in and she curled into a ball, letting herself tumble the rest of the way down, landing on the rippling floor. It gave under her weight as it tried to draw her down into it. In her mind she forced herself away, sending out a powerful psychic pulse to repel it, to make the floor solid where she placed her feet.

  The kids were struggling as well, as though sinking in quicksand. They’d made it as far as the front door, which was wedged shut by an oozing wall of mud.

  “Mina,” Gregory panted, “the door’s stuck!”

  “Try the window!”

  Even as she said it, she knew what a long shot it would be. Suddenly it seemed miles away, and there was nothing to stop the melting house from sealing it off before they could make their way there.

  Val was crying and starting to panic, batting frantically at the moving walls and dripping ceiling.