by Roger Hayden
She stopped within five feet of the thing and tried to steady her flashlight. A loud screech from all around startled her, just as the figure came into view, turning its gleaming yellow eyes fang-ridden face in her direction, hissing. She screamed just in time to see the figure scurry off to the other side of the room, burrowing into a small hole near above the baseboard.
The figure had ears, whiskers, and a stripped tale. She stumbled back, dropping her food and water, and bolted for the exit. She ran without turning back, vaulting up the stairs and into the room with adrenaline flowing through her veins.
She closed the door and threw her back against the wall, breathing heavily. “A raccoon…” she said, exasperated. “A freaking raccoon.”
Chapter Eight
A New Discovery
Mary woke the next morning still feeling rattled from the incident before. Curtis had just walked out of the bathroom in his robe with steamy mist following him as Mary sat up, agitated. “This house is infested,” she said.
Curtis stopped and dried his bushy hair with a towel, curious. “What are you talking about?”
Mary flipped her legs over and onto the floor as moved to the edge of the bed. “I went downstairs last night to grab a bottle of water and I saw a raccoon, clear as day. It hissed at me and burrowed into a hole in the wall.”
Curtis’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious, and that’s not all. I heard things, Curtis. A baby crying. It was terrifying.”
Concerned, Curtis approached her as he tossed his towel to the floor. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Pest control will be here this morning and they’ll take care of it. He already set up a bunch of rodent traps yesterday just to be sure.”
“It’s not just the raccoon. There’s something strange about this house, sinister even, and it seems to get worse with each day.”
Curtis took a step back and shook his head. It was clear he didn’t want to entertain her notions of the supernatural. “I haven’t seen or heard a thing.”
She opened her mouth, and Curtis cut her off, quick to prevent an argument. “I’m not saying that I don’t believe you. I just think your nerves are a little shot with everything going on. That’s why I want you to relax. We have plenty of people to get this place in working order.”
Mary was anything but satisfied with his response. “I’m not crazy.”
Curtis let out a nervous laugh as he stood in the sunlight beaming into the room. “Of course not. I believe you. I think this is all part of those visions you’re talking about.” He then came closer and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I think you have a gift, Mary, and it must be frustrating when no one sees or hears the things you do.” He squeezed her hands, trying to sound understanding. “But I think that’s just what they are, visions and nothing more.”
Mary didn’t know what else to say. It was clear to her that more research on the house was the only answer. She nodded and looked into his eyes with sincerity. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Mark my words.”
Curtis rose, seeming pleased enough. “I think you should. You have an excellent intuition.”
“The whole town is weird,” she said, perhaps too hastily. She looked down and retracted a bit. “Well… At least the people I’ve met so far.”
“Speaking of which,” Curtis said, walking to his dresser and pulling out some clothes. “We’ve been invited to a Barbecue next Sunday at the church.”
“How’d you hear about that?” Mary asked.
Curtis disrobed and put on a pair of shorts and University of Chicago T-shirt, checking himself in the mirror angled on top of the nightstand. “I met someone at the diner before you arrived. He’s the pastor at the church we passed.” He thought for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “Pastor Phil was his name.”
“I met him too,” Mary said. “He approached me on the street. Seemed like he already knew who I was. Same with you.”
“I admit, he did seem very friendly and outgoing.”
“He’s been living here since the seventies. Can you believe that?” Mary said.
Curtis turned with a shrug. “From what I hear, once people move to Redwood, they don’t want to go anywhere else.”
“I’m sure they don’t,” Mary said softly.
Curtis moved toward the door, ready to get started with his day. “Plenty of warm water left in the shower,” he said. He paused, hand on the doorknob and turned back to Mary. “So are you in for next Sunday?”
“The barbecue?” Mary asked.
“Yeah. You said so yourself that we should go to church more often.”
Mary arched a brow. “And I’m sure this has nothing to do with you fishing for prospective clients.”
“It has everything to do with that,” Curtis said with a laugh. “I’ve got to try to make a living somehow.”
Mary nodded. “Sure. Next Sunday. Let’s do it.”
Curtis seemed happy and said he had work to do, leaving Mary in the room as he shut the door behind him. She looked around their nearly setup master bedroom, wondering exactly how she was going to spend the day. It was Monday, and she expected more of the same—landscapers, roofers, movers, and all the like working in unison. More incessant hammering from above, ore lawn mowers blaring, and more and more people than she could even handle. Granted, they were there to help Mary and Curtis fix their dream house, but at that moment, she had never felt so alone.
She showered and went downstairs dressed in her sneakers, pink sleeveless button-down shirt and jean shorts, just in time to see Curtis talking with the pest control team in the foyer. There were two men, lanky and young-looking with red polo shirts and hats. They nodded along as Curtis explained to them the potential areas where rodents and other issues could be. He then stopped and looked up at Mary as she came to the bottom of the stairs.
“Ah, there she is,” Curtis said. “Honey, could you kindly show these gentlemen where you saw the raccoon last night?”
“My pleasure,” she said, signaling to the hall to the right. “Right this way.”
The two men thanked Curtis and followed Mary as she led them to the living room. It was empty, just as before, and less ominous in the daytime. Two bottles of water lay on the floor along with a to-go box. Mary carefully picked up the box to see that the sandwich was still inside. Regardless, it was going into the garbage.
She then went immediately to the far corner of the room across the hardwood floor to where she saw the raccoon. As suspected, there were tiny scratch marks on the wall, clear as day.
“Right there,” she said, pointing. “That’s where I saw it last night.”
The pest control teamed eyes the wall, hands on their chins, as Mary went straight across the to the other side of the room. “It ran over here and crawled back into the wall.” She stopped at a hole near the baseboard, about five inches wide. She couldn’t say how the raccoon squeezed in there so quickly, but the hole was evidence enough.
The men approached as the taller one with a goatee shinned his flashlight inside the hole. “Damn,” he said. “We can get in there, but it’s gonna be tricky.”
“Whatever you have to do,” she said. “This particular raccoon seemed very mean. I don’t want to mess around.”
The two men turned and looked at each other. The goatee man scratched his head and spoke with careful reconsideration. “We have a bunch of traps in our van. Of course, we can try to lure it out instead of banging up your wall.”
“She could have babies, Earl,” the other man said. “It’s best to take a look.”
“Fine,” the goatee man said. He then looked at Mary. “That okay with you?”
Mary thought of Curtis and all the effort in money they were putting into fixing the place up. “Keep the destruction to a minimum please.” Though she was eager for them to tear into the wall and get whatever was living inside of there out.
Earl looked up, scanning the room. “It’s a
big house, ma’am, but we’ll try out best.”
They left the room as Mary paced around the center of the floor, stricken with worry. The infant cries were coming back to her. There was no way that any kind of animal could have made a noise so distinctive. It was yet another strange, unexplained occurrence. She walked to the window in the living room, looking outside at the front courtyard.
Curtis was by the empty fountain talking with some contractors. The pest control team were at their red van, pulling out some equipment. Earl had a crowbar in hand. She assumed that was how they were going to do it. She turned and walked back to the hole on the other side of the room. The faded and stained beige walls around her needed a good painting. The same could be said for pretty much every other room in the house.
She pulled a mini-flashlight from her pocket and shined it into the hole out of curiosity. She could barely see a thing beyond the light in the darkness, but as she held her hand against the hole she felt faint, cool air against her palm. She took a knee and tried to get a better look and then she heard something. She froze, just as a man with a noisy leaf blower passed by the window, distracting her. She pressed her ear against the hole, listening as the sound of the leaf blower finally passed.
Silence returned to the room. Mary remained still, eyes looking upward and trying to make out the faint noise inside the wall. It sounded like a groan. She pressed her ear closer, practically inside the hole. It was the long-winded groan of a man, fading but clear enough.
The sound soon vanished just as quickly as it appeared. With intense focus, Mary backed away and clutched the side of the hole, trying to pry bits of the wall off to make the hole larger. Something came over her, a need or obsession, and she pulled and pulled until she tore a piece of hard plaster from the wall and fell back in surprise.
“Whoa. What’s going on here?” Earl said, entering the room with his partner.
Mary looked up, startled and clutching a piece of the wall in her hand. “Nothing. I thought I heard something.”
“You leave the busy work to us, Mrs. Malone,” Earl said. “Pete and I have this.”
His partner, Pete, set a small cage next to the wall as Earl set down his toolbox. He knelt by the hole and asked Mary politely if she could give him some room. She stood up and backed away with the intent to watch them chip away at the hole, piece by piece.
Earl held the crowbar in hand and then turned to Mary with uncertainty. “You sure your husband is okay with this?”
She felt taken aback by the question and simply narrowed her eyes in response.
Earl stuttered nervously. “I-It’s just. He’s the one who called us out here and all.”
“Yeah, no offense,” Pete added.
Mary crossed her arms. “It’s quite all right,” she said. “My husband doesn’t mind, nor do I.”
Earl nodded with a gapped-tooth grin and then turned back to the wall. He stuck the crowbar in the wall and pushed against it like taking off a hubcap. A big chunk flew out as Earl fell back, regaining his balance. The hole was nearly large enough for him to put his head through, but he kept going, chipping away piece by piece. Heard the front door open and shot, and looked nervously to the side. Although she had assured them that Curtis was fine with everything, she had her doubts he would be happy once he saw what they were doing. Something was in the wall. Something beyond a raccoon or rodent, and she had to get to the bottom of it.
Satisfied, Earl set the crowbar on the ground and held up his long steel flashlight. Mary walked closer as he turned the light on and scanned the inside of the wall.
“Yep…” he said nodding. “Just like a thought. She’s got babies.”
“How do you know?” Mary said, hovering over his shoulder.
Earl scratched his face. “There’re droppings everywhere.” He was leaned over, head halfway in the wall, shining his flashlight inside and blocking Mary’s view. She half expected the vicious raccoon to come spiraling out of the hole to attack them. If anything, it was probably sleeping. “Hello, what’s this?” Earl said, reaching down. He backed out of the hole holding a dusty booklet of some kind. Mary was instantly intrigued. He shook the dust and bits of wall from the book and held it up for everyone to see. “Looks like someone lost their book in there.”
“Can raccoons read?” Pete said with a laugh.
Mary extended her arm to take the book as Earl reluctantly handed it to her. It was extremely dusty, despite him shaking it off. Mary carefully examined the leather-bound cover with a draw string tying it shut. It was small but thick. The pages looked warped and dry. She had no clue what to make of it.
“Let’s see what else we got in here,” Earl said, looking back in the hole. He shined his flashlight around as Mary’s felt along the book’s rough edges.
She was hesitant to open it as it seemed so fragile, she didn’t want it to vanquish into dust. Though her deep curiosity got the best of her. She turned from the men and gently untied the tattered, thin rope binding the book together. As the rope came undone, she slowly opened both sides of the book, directly down the middle. There was tiny, faded cursive handwriting all across both pages, barely legible. Mary held it closer, trying to read the words.
Tuesday, May 20, Today father said that we have to all put on a good face at lunch with the future in-laws. His words not mine. I’m so sick of putting a good face around here when they keep me locked in my room half the time. I got a record player for my birthday, but they won’t even let me play half the time. Mother says that my music is too loud and distracting.
Mary lowered the book in deep concentration. Earl had discovered a diary of some sort, and the raccoon had led them straight to it. What was it doing inside the wall, and it just how old was it? She ruminated over these questions has her a delicate piece of history rested in her hands. She looked over to Earl as his continued scanning the inside of the wall with his flashlight.
“See anything else?” she asked.
Earl grunted and then spoke. “Nah. Just a bunch more raccoon droppings. Might even have some rats down here too.”
“Just wonderful,” Mary said with a sigh.
Earl leaned back from the wall and turned toward her, face covered in dust. “I’ll leave a trail of pellets leading to the trap. Lure the mother out come feeding time.” He then paused, thinking to himself. “Course, we may have to put a fogger in there for the babies.”
“You mean kill them?” Mary asked.
“Yep,” Earl said, matter-of-fact.
She didn’t like the idea, but they were the professionals. Raccoons had no place in their walls, regardless of age. She flipped to another page in the book, almost on instinct and began reading.
In trouble today. Mother found out I’ve been taking scraps of food and feeding raccoons in the backyard. She told Father and he told Lawrence, our groundskeeper to kill any ‘rodents’ he see on site. Those raccoons are they only friends I have left and they won’t even let me have that. I need to get out of this house. I need to get away. Need to get away before it’s too late.
Mary raised her head and nearly dropped the book. Her mind went right back to the night before when she had encountered the raccoon. She remembered its yellow eyes, dripping fangs, but had no idea what connection it had with the girl’s writings.
“That was no normal raccoon,” she said out loud.
“What was that, Mrs. Malone?” Pete asked.
She turned to see both Earl and Pete looking at her. “Nothing… You gentlemen do what you have to do. I have to make a phone call.” She excused herself from the room and went right toward the stairs, clutching the book and rushing up the steps to evade being seen, though she couldn’t understand why.
She fled into the master bedroom, still unsure of why her need for utmost secrecy, and closed the door. The diary would make a good addition to the books and newspapers she had already acquired, and beyond those references, she felt that the most definitive view into the family’s history could in fact be the word
s of a young girl.
She went to the bed and sat, prepared to read the diary in one sitting. She turned the pages carefully and saw that some of them were so deteriorated that she couldn’t read the writing no matter how hard she tried.
Is there a way to restore a book? she wondered.
She then turned back to the very first page. The ink had smeared almost entirely, but she was able to read mid-sentence as it carried on to the next page.
…said that we had to. They’re so demanding. They gave me a diary for my birthday just like I asked, but they also wouldn’t let me have any friends over. They’re so protective that it’s driving me crazy. Happy birthday to me, I guess.
A knock suddenly came at the door as Mary’s head jolted up.
“Mary, you in there?” Curtis asked from outside.
“It’s open,” she said, tucking the diary under the sheets.
Curtis walked in, reddened from the sun and sweaty. “You all right in here?”
“Yeah,” she said without hesitance.
“The pest control guys said you took off in a hurry. I told them to go easy on the wall. I don’t think we have to tear this place apart to flush a couple rodents out.”
“I agree,” Mary said. She tried to put on her best face with hope that Curtis would be satisfied enough and go back to whatever it was he was doing, but he persisted.
“They said they found an old book. What’s with that?”
Mary waved him off. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” he said, walking forward.
“These old walls,” Mary said. “You never know what you’ll find. I tried to read it, but the pages are all washed out.”
Curtis went to his dresser and grabbed a pair of sunglasses, seemingly no longer interested. “That’s a shame.” He then stopped and spun around. “You’ll never believe who stopped by.”
