Occasional Demons

by Rick Hautala

  “I was just thinking...what if...what if it’s—“

  He stopped himself and clamped his teeth together before he could say more. He couldn’t tell her what he was afraid of. His parents were already worried enough about him as it was. Last year, they had even talked about having him see a therapist. He was pretty sure he didn’t need that, but it did bother him how he seemed to worry so much...about everything!

  “What if it’s what?“ his mother prodded him. He noticed that her grip on his shoulders was tightening.

  “UFOs,“ he finally said, his voice so low he almost didn’t hear it himself.

  “What—?“ his mother said. Her grip tightened until it was painful.

  Nick looked at her, his lower lip trembling.

  “I was reading a book...about UFOs...and I was afraid that...maybe I’ve been abducted.“

  One side of his mother’s mouth twitched into a tight smile as she nodded and said, “Ab-duct-ed?“ She pronounced all three syllables separately, and there was a funny tone in her voice.

  “Yeah,“ Nick said. “I was just...you know, thinking that maybe I...that they...that aliens might be kidnapping me...at night...and...and be doing things...you know, like experiments...on me.“

  His mother’s half-smile quickly melted. Nick couldn’t help but see the worry in her eyes. He cringed, waiting for her to say what she had said to him so many times before—

  You can’t let your imagination get too carried away, Nicky. It’s just not healthy.

  Finally, his mother let go of his shoulders and stood up.

  “Well, you’d better get off to school,“ she said. Her voice sounded tight and dry, and there was still that funny quaver in it, like she was really worried about him. “You don’t want to be late.“

  “Did you ever think that maybe you really are crazy?“

  “Oh, thanks! Thanks a lot!“ As usual, Nick and his best friend, Denny, were late for class. They were talking breathlessly as they hurried down the empty corridor to Mrs. Wilson’s room. They could see that the door was already shut, so they were going to have detention this afternoon, no matter what.

  “Com’on, Nick,“ Denny said, swatting him on the arm. “You know I don’t mean it!“

  “Yeah, but...“

  “You and your yeah-buts,“ Denny said, smirking slightly as they stopped for a moment outside the classroom door. “You know, maybe you do read too much of that science fiction stuff. It might be warping your brain.“

  Nick smiled, but then, just as he was opening the door, a sizzling jab of pain lanced behind his left eye, sharp enough to make him cry out and double up. Denny looked at him, momentarily confused, but it was too late to say anything. Twitters of laughter filled the room as they stood there in the classroom doorway.

  For the few seconds it took Nick to walk over to his desk and sit down, the vision in his left eye got so blurry he almost lost his balance. No matter where he looked, everything he saw was surrounded by halos of shifting white light that gave him the impression he was under water.

  “Well, well, well...“ Mrs. Wilson’s voice cut through Nick’s surge of panic. “I see you two have finally decided to grace us with your presence.“

  Mrs. Wilson’s arms were folded across her expansive bosom as she shifted her gaze back and forth between Nick and Denny. Then she cleared her throat and, turning back to the blackboard, said casually over her shoulder, “I assume you boys know where to be at two-forty-five this afternoon.“

  That night was much worse than the night before.

  Nick didn’t have any luck trying to drift off to sleep. It was like trying to make himself not think about something. He just couldn’t do it even though the slight throb of pain behind his left eye was less now, never strong enough to bother him. He was just happy he didn’t see shimmering halos of rainbow light wherever he looked.

  What did have Nick worried was what he had seen in the bathroom mirror while brushing his teeth before bed. At first, he had hardly noticed it, but while staring at his reflection, he discovered a thin white line on the upper inside of his left eyebrow, just beneath the thin, dark hairs.

  A cold surge of panic had filled him when he had leaned close to the mirror and traced his forefinger over what looked like a faint scar that had healed long ago.

  As a frantic bubble of fear rose up in his chest, he had called out to his mother, but when she burst into the bathroom to see what was the matter, he hadn’t dared mention it to her. Trembling inside, he told her he’d had a stomachache but felt better now, kissed her good night, and hurried off bed.

  But he knew sleep wasn’t going to come easily if at all.

  He couldn’t stop wondering what that scar on his eyebrow was and if it might be connected, somehow, with the pressure and pain behind his left eye.

  That’s what was keeping him awake.

  Nick never knew when—or if—he ever fell asleep, but by the time morning sunlight was glowing through his drawn window shades, the pain behind his left eye had returned.

  Lying in bed, Nick listened to his mother, moving about downstairs in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast. After he heard his father leave for work, Nick called her up to his bedroom and told her that he was feeling too lousy to go to school today. Once she was convinced he wasn’t faking it to avoid a test he hadn’t studied for, she gave him two aspirin and told him to stay in bed and try to get some sleep.

  As Nick settled back under the covers, waiting for the aspirin to take effect, he couldn’t help but wonder:

  Why go back to sleep? So the aliens can come and kidnap me again?

  Sometime later, a faint knocking sound awoke him. He wedged his eyes open and braced himself for the sudden jolt of pain to hit but was amazed to find that he actually felt better...almost perfect, in fact.

  Maybe the aspirin really did the trick! He thought as he lay there, staring up at his bedroom ceiling and wondering why he had awakened so suddenly.

  Then, from downstairs, the knocking sound came again, followed by the hushed scuff of his mother’s footsteps, moving quickly to the front door.

  Nick tensed as he sat up in bed and stared at his bedroom door. He was suddenly fearful that he might be dreaming this, and that someone—or something—was suddenly going to rush into his room.

  When that didn’t happen, he swung his feet to the floor and tiptoed out into the hallway to the head of the stairs. Squatting on the top step, as he had done so many times before to eavesdrop on his parents, he strained to hear what the people at the door were saying to his mother. All he could make out was the soft, indistinct buzz of voices.

  But now his curiosity was up.

  Who’s down there, talking to my mother?

  And why are they being so quiet?

  Is it because she’d told them I was sick, and they don’t want me to hear?

  Or is there another reason?

  Nick debated whether or not he should sneak downstairs and see who it was, but before he could do anything, the voices stopped, and he heard the front door close.

  Nick’s first reaction was to go back to his bedroom before his mother realized he was out of bed, but then, almost without thinking, he raced to his parents’ bedroom and looked out their window, which looked out over the front yard. He almost screamed when he saw two men walking toward the car that was parked down by the sidewalk. Both of them looked to be exactly the same height, and both of them were wearing long, black coats and had dark, wide-brimmed hats pulled down almost to the eyebrows. They were also wearing sunglasses. What little Nick could see of their faces, their skin looked milky pale, almost transparent.

  The mere sight of these two men frightened Nick, but seeing them also made him feel...funny, somehow...as though he almost recognized them.

  Where have I seen them before?

  Nick crouched by the windowsill and watched as the two men got into the car and drove away. For a long time after the men’s car had disappeared down the street, he stared after them, wo
ndering who they were and what they were doing with his mother. It was only when he heard her footsteps on the stairs that he scooted back to his room and leaped into bed.

  “You feeling any better?“ his mother asked when she poked her head into his bedroom.

  Nick was dying to ask her who the men at the door were, but something warned him not to let her know that he had seen them...and that he thought he might have seen them before...someplace...if only he could remember where...and when...

  “Well, now I know you’re crazy,“ Denny said as he followed Nick up the narrow stairs into the attic. The air was stale and dusty, and it made the boys cough.

  “I just want to check something out,“ Nick said, keeping his voice low even though he knew he didn’t have to. His father was still at work, and his mother had gone to the supermarket and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour.

  “The other night...the dream I had...“ He squinted his eyes, trying hard to remember. “There was something about the room I was in...the way the walls were slanted...that made me think of the attic.“

  “And you think this is where the aliens are taking you, is that it?“ Denny asked.

  Nick heard the mocking tone in his friend’s voice, but he chose to ignore it as he walked to the middle of the attic floor and looked all around.

  All his life, he realized, he had been afraid to come up here alone. The attic was dim and dusty, crammed with accumulated junk that Nick couldn’t imagine all belonged to his parents. There were stacks of old clothes, numerous dusty boxes tied shut with brown string, stacks of old magazines and books, and lots of worn-out, old-fashioned furniture. At the far end of the attic was a large, built-in closet, and it was on this that Nick focused his gaze.

  “D’you see that?“ he asked Denny, pointing at the closet.

  Momentarily confused, Denny glanced over at the closet, then back at Nick, and shrugged.

  “What? You mean the closet?“

  Nick covered his mouth with his fist and nodded.

  He had always known the closet was up here, but until now he had never thought much about it. He realized that, not once in his life had he ever looked inside to see what was in there. A subtle current of fear played like electricity up his spine as he took a few steps closer to the closet.

  He could see that the door was locked. There was a metal hasp with a small safety lock just above the latch.

  “Why do you think it’s locked?“ Nick asked, turning to face Denny.

  “Because your parents don’t want you fooling around in there? Maybe that’s where your dad keeps his guns or something.“

  Nick frowned suspiciously, then took a deep breath and approached the door. Feeling oddly sense of detachment, he watched as his hand reached out and took hold of the lock. It was cold to the touch and sent a vibrating chill up his arm.

  “Look, Nick,“ Denny said. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding mean or something, but you’re really kinda creeping me out.“

  “I just want to see what’s inside here,“ Nick said, hearing the strangled sound of his own voice.

  Gritting his teeth, he gave the lock a sudden downward yank. The ancient, dry wood of the frame splintered with a loud snapping sound as the lock pulled free. Nick was trembling as he lifted the latch and swung the door open.

  A thick, vibrating wall of darkness surrounded him.

  He was lost in the darkness...drifting like a wind-tossed feather in a black, limitless void. But then, after a timeless moment, buttery-yellow light began to brighten around him in a glowing, watery haze.

  “He’s coming around...“ The sudden sound of his mother’s startled Nick. He looked up and, through the haze, could just barely make out one, then two, finally three indistinct figures leaning over him. They were little more than black smears against the gauzy light. Licking his lips, Nick tried to speak, but his mouth was too dry to form any words. He tried to raise his hand but found that he couldn’t move it. When he tried to shift his body, he realized that he was strapped down. Hard, metal restraints dug into his wrists, ankles, chest, and hips.

  ...Mom...

  He thought the word, but there was no way he could say it. Even so, he sensed her respond to him.

  “I’m right here, darling,“ his mother said. Her voice was low and soothing, and Nick saw one of the dark shapes lean closer to him.

  “Our opinion all along has been that this was a serious error in judgment on your part.“

  This was a man’s voice, which Nick didn’t recognize. The steadily brightening light in the room stung his eyes, but he forced himself to look up at the shapes that surrounded him. The more his vision resolved, the stronger the current of fear winding up inside him became until he realized—

  They aren’t human!

  Nick could see that all three of the figures had huge, rounded, neckless lumps where their heads should have been. When something touched his arm, he looked down and caught a glimpse of a thick, dark, green tentacle, sliding over his hand.

  ... Mom ...?

  “I’m right here beside you, sweetie.“

  The pressure on his hand increased. Nick would have pulled away if he could have.

  “I’ll tell you this much,“ a male voice said. “It’s a good thing we implanted the micro-camera into his optic nerve. I can’t imagine what would have happened if he and the other had found this chamber without our knowing it.“

  “He would have found out about it eventually,“ his mother said mildly.

  “Yes, but consider the damage that might have occurred in the meantime.“

  While this conversation was going on, Nick was concentrating hard, trying to make his vision clear. Behind the dark silhouettes, he could see bright, stainless steel walls lined with shelves, loaded with what looked like an assortment of strange medical equipment. Slowly, his vision resolved.

  “May I give him the injection now? Please?“ his mother asked.

  It frightened Nick to think that he was going to be given a shot. More than that, it scared him to hear such tension in his mother’s voice.

  Who—or what—are these people? Nick wondered as he tugged at the restraints on his arms.

  Are they the same men who were at the house this morning? And what do they want? What are they trying to do to me?

  “No,“ one of the men said, his voice hard with command. “The injections will no longer be permitted.“

  “But ... but he enjoys his human form,“ his mother said, pleading but already sounding defeated.

  Human form...? Nick thought.

  When he finally saw that the men were, in fact, the two men who had been at the house earlier, he wanted to cry out, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make a sound.

  What are you talking about? Mom? What’s happening to me?

  “What about the other one, his friend?“ his mother asked softly.

  Nick heard a thick, watery gasp that sounded like deep, gurgling laughter.

  “We’ll deal with him all in due time,“ one of the men in black said, “but for now, we insist that you not give your offspring the injection. It is time for him to change back to his original shape so he can see himself—for the first time—as he really is.“

  Nick struggled hard against the straps that pinned him to the stainless steel table, but it was useless. His eyes still stung from the bright light reflecting off the walls behind the three figures. As his vision cleared, he saw—not human faces at all—but huge, monstrous faces with wide, unblinking, golden eyes above wide, lipless splits in green, wart-covered flesh.

  “I—I’m sorry, Nicky,“ one of the creatures said.

  Nick couldn’t believe that his mother’s voice was coming from this huge, ugly toad-like creature leaning over him. She—or it—reached out and touched him gently on the side of the face with a soft, wet tentacle. Her touch left behind a burning trail of slime.

  “But they are right, sweetie“ the thing that was his mother said. Her tentacle ran up and do
wn the side of his face, leaving behind a slick, oily feeling. “Your father and I probably should have told you who you really are a long time ago.“

  Nick was struck numb with terror when he looked down at the strap that was pinning his hand to the table and saw—not a human hand at all, but a long, green, tapered tentacle. He tried to scream, but the only sound that issued from his throat was a long, strangled, bubbly shriek that, even to his ears, didn’t sound at all human.

  And the Sea Shall Claim Them

  by Matthew J. Costello and “A.J. Matthews“

  The expression “It was a dark and stormy night“ ran through Derek Townsend’s mind as he pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Rusty Scupper.

  He grinned. Might be a cliché...but they do occur.

  Take tonight for example. Rain just letting up, but the clouds black as mud and lying low enough to meet what seemed to be a permanent fog bank.

  “Dark, stormy, and hot,“ he muttered as he killed the ignition. He thought Maine never got hot.

  He swung open the car door, stepped out on the hard-packed gravel, and tilted his head back. No stars—though a sickly July moon had started to cast a faint fluorescent glow through the cloud cover.

  Maybe it would burn off.

  He smiled at that. Burn…off.

  He stretched his arms over his head and groaned loudly. He knew he sounded like a bear waking up after a long winter’s sleep. Tough; he ached.

  The drive out to CapeTumbles—a small coastal town some three hours north of Bar Harbor, Maine—had been long and torturous. The thin, winding ribbon of road hugged the southern edge of the cape close and tight; it had tested Derek’s nerves and driving skills. He hated driving anyway.

  Every time his headlights swung around a curve, briefly illuminating the vast, dark stretch of ocean and jagged granite rocks off to his right, he felt like he was in free-fall. The sudden drop to his right made his stomach slide up into his chest. Nice feeling...like some demented roller-coaster ride.