Evil Stalks the Night

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  It was sweet to lounge in the warm dark listening to Ben and Jeremy banter with the rain as a backdrop. I was happy, I realized at that moment, I was actually happy. I peered at Ben’s animated face in the shadows, even though I could hardly see him, and my heart was content. I wondered if Ben felt the same way when he was here with us.

  Later, when Jeremy was in bed asleep, Ben asked about Jim.

  “I think he’s all right, as far as I know. He calls me almost every day and yet,” I hesitated, trying to put my feelings into some sort of order. “I think he’s having a hard time up there.”

  “Your brother wants to come home, and he can’t. Most men, once they make this kind of a decision, find it hard to wait.” Was he talking about Jim or himself? “It’s not easy to do something you have to do out of duty, when you’d rather be doing something else somewhere else. Any news about when he can come back?”

  “None, so far. They keep trying out new guitarists but they haven’t found one that’s good enough or who’ll travel. Jim is kind of discouraged.” I felt Ben’s arm circle around me in the night. “But you don’t care, do you?” I teased him. “You like having me to yourself, don’t you?”

  “I’d be a fool to say I didn’t. Look at us. We’re alone. Nice, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I replied and leaned my head on his shoulder. He was the reason I felt safe and he was the reason Jim was sure I was okay. Ben was keeping an eye on us. Jim couldn’t do any better.

  “Look, a falling star!” I pointed towards the velvet sky to where it was slashed with a streak of white light.

  “Make a wish,” Ben whispered in my ear and we both laughed. I listened as our laughter faded away on the wet air.

  “It’s so pretty outside,” I said. Ben’s arms were strong and warm around me. I didn’t want the moment to end. I loved rainy nights like this. The rain made the world smell so fresh. Clean. On a night like this I felt like I owned the world. It was enjoyable to have someone special to share it with.

  I wasn’t the only one who had a friend. I was sure Jeremy had one, too. He was secretive about who it was and didn’t want to talk about it. As long as he was home by dark and stayed away from the woods and the old ruins, I respected his privacy. He’d tell me about it when he was ready. He never spoke about his friend and there were times I wasn’t sure he really had one, but he seemed happier, so I didn’t pry. I’d catch him sneaking out of the house in the late afternoon with food packed away in his pockets or some of his match box cars or toys. I couldn’t help but think he was taking the food to someone.

  “Don’t go too far,” I’d warn him as he ran outside.

  He’d nod and wave as he banged out the door. At first I was afraid to let him go outside our yard, but as the weeks passed by uneventfully and some inner knowledge told me everything was safe, for now, I allowed him more freedom. He was a healthy, growing boy and I had no right to lock him in the house like a caged pet. I’d know when it was no longer safe. Then I’d decide what to do.

  I always knew when the evil was sleeping.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “I live here.” Jenny gestured towards a plain ranch style house with swaying trees surrounding it. There was a beat up swing set in the backyard.

  “Doesn’t look like there’s anybody home,” Jeremy said. He moseyed up to one of the filmy windows and peered in. It was dark in there. He glanced at Jenny where she stood a short distance away. He’d known her for weeks now. While school was in session, she’d wait outside his house early in the morning, hiding behind a tree, and they’d walk to school together. It was an uneasy truce. She refused to meet his mother or to come any nearer to his house.

  Jeremy was annoyed at first and then accepted the fact, she’d been frightened by the rumors about his house being haunted. She didn’t know any better.

  So he stopped trying to get her to come in. It was comforting to have a friend, even an odd one. She hadn’t shown him where she lived, until today.

  “There never is. They’re always at work,” Jenny responded coldly. “I prefer it, as it means I don’t get yelled at or worse.”

  It hadn’t taken Jeremy long to figure out Jenny was afraid to go home when they were there.

  “Who fixes you something to eat? Aren’t you lonely?” He felt sorry for her. Her parents didn’t care much about her. They let her run around in filthy, ragged clothes and she didn’t have enough to eat. He had to sneak food out for her. What had she done before him? By the looks of her she’d starved. Too thin, her bony legs stuck out from her shorts like two pipe cleaners. Her face was all eyes.

  “Well, I’m supposed to have a baby-sitter. She lives three doors down. Name’s Donna. But she has this boyfriend and I don’t see much of her. She collects the money every week for watching me but I’m rarely there. I don’t like her much.”

  It was a sultry day and Jeremy wiped the sweat from his face. The shade was cooler and he didn’t want to move. “She doesn’t feed you, either?”

  “Sometimes, if I time it right, I get a sandwich or a snack. If I’m late I get nothing. If I make her mad at me I get…” She used her skinny hands to indicate what she would get. Jeremy could only surmise what she meant. Her head cut off? Or something like it.

  “I have a key, a house key.” She produced it proudly, pulling out something shiny that hung around her neck on a shoestring. “It’s for the back door.” She led him around to the rear of the house and let them in. “I stole it because they lock me out sometimes. Oh, they don’t mean to.”

  She must have seen the pitying look cross his face and he knew she didn’t want his pity; she didn’t want anyone’s pity.

  “This way I can get in anytime I please.” Her grin was wicked. “Sometimes I use the key to let myself in when they’re fighting. I quietly creep to my bedroom and go to sleep, without them knowing I’m there. If they don’t catch me, they don’t get mad at me.”

  “That’s awful,” he said, feeling sorry for her but trying not to show it.

  “Nah, it’s just the way my life is and I’m used to it. I’ll survive.”

  Poor Jenny.

  “It’s awful dark in here,” Jeremy whispered as she gave him the grand tour. He couldn’t imagine living as she did. He could see the dinginess and the grime. Dirt crunched beneath his feet and wherever he laid his hand it was dusty. He looked in the refrigerator. It was practically empty. What did they eat?

  But there were bottles and empty cans of beer everywhere. What kind of parents were they? He fumed. Jenny was left to fend for herself, and she was younger than he was. He was really glad he had his mother and Uncle Jim. Detective Ben, too, he was nice.

  “We’d better leave now,” she announced abruptly. Her eyes kept darting towards the windows. “I couldn’t begin to explain to them who you are. My mom’s funny about you Towers. I could get in big trouble for even talking to you.” She was already out the door, impatiently waiting for him to follow. “I don’t know what they’d do if they caught you here in our house.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Let’s go.”

  He could tell she was anxious to get as far away as fast as she could. She hadn’t done the dishes or cleaned her room like she was supposed to. She’d neglected to dust and sweep the kitchen floor.

  “Oh, well,” she’d made excuses, “I’ll do it later.”

  Jeremy didn’t think it was fair everyone thought mean things about his mom and him. What did they know? Who were they to condemn them, because they were new to the neighborhood and their name was Towers? Or his mom’s name anyway. He thought Jenny was being over dramatic about the whole thing. No one could blame him for being who he was, could they?

  “I got some money.” He tried to be cheerful as they hurried away from her locked house. “How about getting some ice cream?”

  Jenny vi
sibly brightened at the prospect of food.

  “Ice cream sounds delicious!” They hurried towards the store.

  * * * *

  When Jeremy snuggled down in his clean bed that night, well fed and sleepy, he thought of Jenny. He hoped she’d had supper and things were okay with her. He felt uncomfortable and he was worried about her for some reason. Then his thoughts came to rest on his Uncle Jim and he frowned in the dark.

  The last thing he thought before he drifted off to sleep, was he also hoped his Uncle Jim was all right as well. But why he should think that, he didn’t know.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The night was going along like so many nights before. Jim was a true musician when it came down to it and he usually loved playing to a good audience. He appreciated the excitement and the applause. The only thing he loved more than performing, was writing songs or waking up in the old house to smell Sarah’s bacon and fresh coffee.

  The nightclub was dimly lit, smoky, and he couldn’t see but three feet ahead of him, because of the stage lights. But, by the roar, there was a big crowd out there, and they loved him tonight. He’d started preparing for his third set, balancing and tuning his guitar on his knees; looked out into the darkness and smiled. He’d miss this when it was over.

  He’d been on the road with these guys seven years. A lot of good times, and some bad ones. His thoughts touched the sensitive memory of Amy and skidded off it as if he’d touched a smoldering coal. Amy, smiling through the crowd at him as he played. Amy waiting for the set to get done so she could steal a kiss. Amy helping pack up things when the night was over. Amy’s funny little smile. Amy. Gone.

  After she’d disappeared and he’d accepted she was gone forever, he’d almost grieved to death. He’d quit the band completely for a while and ran away from everything—music, life. He worked in a bottle factory and lived in a sort of self-made slum. For weeks he didn’t eat, unless he had to, and punished himself in every small way he could think of to feel pain. It was what he deserved.

  It’d been over a hundred and twenty degrees in the factory during the day with those machines. It’d felt like hell and he’d welcomed it. He’d worked like a devil and the lower class apes that worked with him, thought he was a drug freak or something worse. He worked too hard, too much, and nobody liked to work that much. The job was monotonous. Looking back, he knew he might have died in the rat hole if Rich hadn’t come looking for him, and brought him back to the band. He owed these guys a hell of a lot. He’d never been so happy to be back up on the stage, in all his life.

  Yet, as he strummed his guitar and waited for the show to resume, for a moment, he knew his heart was with Sarah and Jeremy.

  He had to get home. He had to. But when? More than anything in the world he wanted to be there with them. There was this something nibbling frantically at his subconscious, a warning, begging him to return home before it was too late.

  But the guys needed him.

  The other band members sensed his restlessness and commented on it. He remained tight lipped, told them small lies, while inside he wanted to scream ‘leave me alone!’ They couldn’t begin to understand about Evil. Real Evil.

  Not like he did.

  When the others sauntered onto the stage and he checked his mike one last time, he smiled at Rich and nodded. They went into their first song. Later in the set they’d sneak in a few of Jim’s own original songs.

  Like all musical groups who traveled, they had their share of admirers and groupies. There were always people hanging around. No one could ever say he was alone, but standing up there tonight facing the crowd and knowing what he knew, Jim felt alone. He wished he could talk to Sarah about the strange occurrences he’d been experiencing. But not on the phone, it would only worry her more than she already was.

  Half-way through the last set, he saw her. She was out in the crowd with the rowdies and tipsy bar hoppers. When he first noticed her watching him from a seat at the bar, her eyes cool and her long hair hanging free, his heart nearly skipped a beat. His first insane impulse was to stop everything, drop his guitar and run out into the crowd and throw his arms around her.

  It was Amy!

  Somehow he made it through the song and as if he had no will of his own, laying the guitar aside, he stepped down from the stage, and walked into the crowd. He heard the guys yelling at him as if from far away, but he didn’t stop. There was Amy. He had to get to her before she disappeared again. He had to touch her, hold her. She mustn’t run away again.

  “Amy! Amy!” He thought he was screaming her name, but in reality no sound squeezed through his lips.

  He was running towards her through the shadowy light. The surprised crowd seemed to melt in front of him.

  She wasn’t there any longer. The bar stool was empty.

  “Amy!” He twirled around frantically, searching the faces, but none of them were his Amy’s. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest and his palms were hot and sweaty

  Then he spied her standing in the doorway and he ran toward her, yelling, but she didn’t seem to hear. He darted out into the parking lot, into the night. A full moon glittered overhead. Where had she gone?

  His truck. He shivered and loped towards it, remembering how he’d first met her. Her smile, the way she kissed him and her perfume. She was so close, he could feel it. Smell her perfume on the night breeze.

  He saw her smiling at him with that same old smile. She was sitting inside his truck waiting for him. He couldn’t believe it. “Amy!” He tore open the door, and looked into her eyes. He wanted to say a hundred things at once but he couldn’t say another word. He couldn’t believe this was happening, not after all these long years, all the lonely agony. He slid into the seat behind the steering wheel and tried to focus his eyes on the woman next to him.

  Something was wrong. He was dizzy. He couldn’t recall where he was or what he was doing. His eyes were on Amy’s gentle face. “Amy?” He whispered reaching out to touch her.

  He touched nothing. A soft laugh rang out. Amy’s laugh. Trancelike, he turned the key and started up the engine. He drove, vaguely aware of the landscape swiftly speeding by; a night world of illusions.

  Amy was again beside him, smiling softly. A mirage.

  He tried to talk to her but found he was so sleepy the words wouldn’t come out right. But she sat there, still smiling her old sweet smile. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.

  He never heard his band mates screaming in the parking lot behind him, never saw Rich and Kyle jump into their cars and roar out behind him through the deserted streets desperately trying to flag him down. Jim saw nothing. Jim felt nothing.

  Amy was there beside him.

  He knew he was going to die as the truck careened off the road. He saw the trees coming towards the truck’s lights and heard the tires squealing. I’m going to die. I’m going to die with Amy. But when he turned heavy-lidded eyes towards her, he saw a face he didn’t know, a shadow that wasn’t there.

  I’m going to die and be with Amy. He smiled over the steering wheel.

  What about Sarah? Jeremy? They need you, too. They need you more. Amy’s gone.

  “No!” He snapped out of his stupor. His hands gripped the steering wheel in terror as he felt the malevolent presence envelop him. It was gloating. It thought it had him. It was going to kill him. He’d let his guard down one microsecond and it’d sunk its bloody teeth in for the kill.

  “God help me!” he cried, as the truck swerved all over the road and he tried to keep from going through the windshield. “No,” he screamed, realizing the truck was out of control. It veered wildly down the street as if the vehicle was driving itself, and he’d taken his foot off the accelerator.

  The blood drained from his face, as he fought the demon that wanted him dead. Like the others, like the children in the baseme
nt, was this why he’d had the dream…because he too was going to die?

  His thoughts were on Sarah and Jeremy and he could have sworn he heard the boy’s voice far away, promising him he’d be safe. To hang on and everything would be all right. The voice was so real, Jim found himself answering in a whisper, praying, as he fought the wheel. “Yes. Yes”.

  “Leave me alone, you bastard. You want my blood and my soul. You can’t have either!” He screamed, and thought of Jeremy.

  The car left the ground with a sickening clatter and was flying towards a tree. Sobbing, he wrenched the wheel to the right. Drenched in sweat, he was shivering so badly he couldn’t hold on to the wheel.

  He saw Jeremy’s pale face before him.

  “Don’t give up, Uncle Jim. If you don’t give up it can’t get you. I’ll help you, fight it.”

  He fought it for Jeremy, for Sarah.

  Then sweet, serene Amy was by him again, smiling and laughing.

  The truck smashed into a tree and bounced off to hit another in its path. Half the truck was sheared off right about where Amy was sitting. Half out of his mind with fear and then pain, Jim attempted to grab for her. It was too late. He watched in horror as the woman’s head slammed up against the windshield and was propelled, along with her mutilated body, through the hole in the shattered glass. There was a whooshing sound and the body was gone.

  “Amy,” he wept, clutching for her in vain as the truck came into full impact and Jim, mercifully, passed out, his bloodied lips muttering one last time, “Amy.”

  * * * *

  Jeremy awoke with a startled gasp. He bolted up in bed, his heart pounding like a hammer and his mouth as dry as sand. Somebody had called his name. Someone had called for help.

  It was the middle of the night. A light breeze fluttered through the window and kissed his hot face.

  What had happened?