by Ed
"Do you have any idea what that's for?" Carmen asked, nodding toward the pulley.
Mr. Lawson crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, that's the body lift."
Carmen flinched.
"See, the bodies were brought down that ramp out there"—he pointed into the hall—"and prepared in that room." He turned and pointed into the room with the blood-stained wall and sink. "That was the morgue, see. When they were ready, they were lifted up through that trap door with this chain hoist."
"Into our bedroom," Carmen murmured. Before Mr. Lawson could respond to her remark, she turned to the pit. "What about that?"
"Well, the way I understand it, that was the blood tank. The bodies were drained into that, which leads to a separate holding tank than, say, the septic tank. They needed a separate tank for the blood because...well, it would be unsanitary otherwise."
Carmen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was speaking so matter-of-factly. She supposed she should take it the same way, because it was, after all, in the past... but she couldn't.
"Well, I just wondered," she said quietly, nodding. Then she turned and led him out.
"Oh, by the way," he said, waving vaguely overhead. "You see the crosses over the doorways?"
"Yes, I noticed those the first time I came down here."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't move any of those. Even if it's just to clean them. Just...leave them where they are."
Carmen gave him an odd look. "Any particular reason?"
He shrugged. "They're old. I'd like to keep them as they are."
"All right. We will."
In Stephen's room, Mr. Lawson stopped and asked, "Somebody sleep in these rooms down here?"
"Well...that room is for my son Michael, but he's staying with his grandma for a while. This is Stephen's room, but...he doesn't sleep down here."
"How come?"
"He doesn't like it."
A smirk twitched over his lips. "Any reason? I mean, did something happen down here? Something, um...odd? Strange?"
"Why?"
He shrugged again, still with the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. "Just wondered."
"Well, he just doesn't like it, he says. And, uh...he says he's heard voices down here."
A nod...but it was a slow, thoughtful nod. "I see." He cocked a brow, said, "Kids," then moved on. He went through the French doors and stopped in what would be Michael's room when he returned. Mr. Lawson looked around the room, smiled and said, "You know, they used to call this the south coffin room." Then he led the way back upstairs.
Carmen was at the desk in the sun-room that branched off the living room, looking through the day's mail and wondering what to fix for dinner when Stephanie screamed. She dropped the mail and it scattered over the desktop as she hurried through the living room and down the short hall that led to Stephanie's room, from which the scream had come. She nearly ran into Stephanie, who dashed out of the room in a blind run and straight into Carmen's arms.
"What's the matter, honey?" Carmen asked, kneeling before Stephanie.
"There's a woman, Mommy, a woman in my room!"
"What!"
A furious nod. "A woman, it was a woman, and she was standing there with her arms open!" Her eyes were stretched open to their limit and her small fingers dug into Carmen's forearms as her words tumbled into one another in an excited jumble.
"Whoa-whoa-whoa, Stephy, c'mon, calm down a sec, okay?" When Stephanie was silent, Carmen took her hand and led her to the bedroom saying, "Okay, now, we're gonna go into your room so you can show me what you saw."
Stephanie pulled back and said, "It was a woman!”
"Well, then, let's go in and see her. She's probably still there, right?"
Timidly, Stephanie went into the bedroom with Carmen.
"Now, where was she?" Carmen asked.
Stephanie pointed to her dresser, which stood against the wall and had a large mirror over it. "Right there. She was standing right there, like this." Stephanie spread her arms as if to embrace Carmen and gave her an odd, dreamy smile.
"Where do you suppose she went, Steph?"
Stephanie looked around frantically, rigid with tension, then shrugged and muttered reluctantly, "I dunno."
Carmen went to Stephanie's bed and sat on the edge. She felt anger welling in her chest. Stephen had promised not to tell the kids about the house, but obviously he'd broken that promise. Yes, he was ill, and no, she could not expect him to be himself exactly, but there was no excuse for this.
"Has Stephen said anything to you lately, Steph? Anything that maybe...scared you?"
Stephanie shook her head.
"You're sure he hasn't been telling you any spooky stories?"
"Uh-uh."
"Where is Stephen right now?"
"Outside with Jason."
Carmen turned to the window that was directly across from the mirror over Stephanie's dresser. "Do you think he might've been playing a trick on you, honey?"
Her eyes widened and she shook her head insistently. "No! How could he? She was standing right there!"
"You know what I think happened, honey?" She motioned for Stephanie to come to her, put an arm around the girl and pointed to the window. "If somebody was standing outside that window, their reflection would be in that mirror. And if somebody—like Stephen, maybe—wanted to scare you by doing something creepy across from that mirror, you just might think you had another person in here with you."
Stephanie closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and shook her head again, shook it hard. "No. I saw her. She was there.”
"But sweetheart, you know that can't be. How did she get in? How did she get out?"
The girl bowed her head slowly and said nothing.
"What's the matter?"
"You don't believe me."
"Oh, no, I believe you saw something. All I'm saying is that it couldn't have been a woman standing in your room, that's all. You saw something in the mirror that probably looked like a woman. But I do believe you saw something. Okay?"
Head still bowed, Stephanie gave a slight shrug and mumbled, "Guess so."
Carmen stood and kissed her on the head. "You want a glass of juice?"
She shook her head no.
"You wanna go outside and play?"
Another no.
"Well...okay." A hug, another kiss, then Carmen went to find Stephen.
"You promised me you wouldn't tell your brothers or sister about what you thought of the house," Carmen said to Stephen. She'd called him to the porch and they sat on the top step while Jason waited several yards away.
"Yeah, I know," Stephen said.
"So, why did you tell Stephanie?"
"I didn't."
"Were you outside her bedroom window trying to scare her just now?"
"I was—no, no—I was with Jason and we were—"
"She said she saw a woman standing in front of her dresser, standing there with her arms open and a weird look on her face. The mirror on that dresser is right across from the window, so it wouldn't be hard for you to play a little trick on her."
Stephen's eyes widened and his back stiffened and Carmen saw what she thought, at first, to be guilt. Then she realized it more closely resembled fear.
"She did?" he whispered. "I mean, she...saw somebody in her room?"
Carmen nodded. "I don't want this going on, Stephen, do you understand? I want it to stop right now."
"But I didn't say anything to—"
"Then why would she say she saw—"
"Maybe because she did!"
Carmen blinked rapidly, then sighed. "Okay, listen, Stephen. Maybe she overheard you talking about it, or something, I don't know, but I know she was very scared a little while ago. I don't want that to happen anymore, do you hear me? Just keep it to yourself, okay? You can talk to me in private about it if you want, but...just keep it to yourself around the other kids. All right?"
"But I didn't say anything."
"Plea
se, will you do that for me?" With his eyebrows knit so tightly and his pale face so tense, he looked too upset by her accusation for her to argue with him any further.
Stephen nodded and Carmen gave him a quick kiss before going back in the house.
She hoped that was the last of it.
"I think I'm gonna go inside for a while," Stephen said.
Jason asked, "You in trouble?"
"No. Why?"
"Because your mom wanted to talk to you privately just now and she was pretty intense, and...well, you look, um...I don't know, worried. Like something's bothering you."
Stephen shook his head absently, said, "I'll see you later," and walked slowly back to the house.
So Stephanie had seen someone in her room. Was it the same someone he'd heard? Mom said it was a woman, but even so...if it could come and go like that woman apparently had, then it could probably do any voice it wanted. So, he wasn't crazy, he wasn't imagining things. But he wasn't in any better shape than he was before. Now Mom not only didn't believe him, she didn't believe Stephanie, either.
No matter where Stephen went in the house, he could not shake the vague feeling that there was something else there, a presence other than his family's, something that was watching them...perhaps waiting for something. But he kept those feelings to himself mostly because it was pretty obvious no one was going to believe him. It made him feel better to know that he was not alone now.
But it made him feel only a little better.
He climbed the front steps wearily and went inside, wondering if anyone else in his family would encounter the presence...and, if so, who would be next?
When Al arrived that night, Stephen, Stephanie, and Peter were in the living room watching television and Carmen was in the kitchen filling the apartment with the warm smell of baking chicken. She heard Al pull up, dropped what she was doing and hurried out to meet him on the front walk.
"Oh, I am so glad you're home," Carmen whispered into his neck as she wrapped her arms around him. He carried a brown paper bag in his left arm and she crushed it between them.
"Everything okay?"
"Oh, yeah. I just miss you, is all. We all miss you."
The children greeted him at the door, laughing, grinning, and hugging...all except Stephen, who stood back a few feet, pensive and unsmiling, thin arms folded over his chest.
In the living room, Al announced he'd brought surprises for everyone and reached into the bag. He removed a fuzzy, stuffed Opus the penguin for Peter, three coloring books and a box of crayons for Stephanie, and a brand-new fishing reel for Stephen, who barely reacted to the gift. Included with the reel were some new hooks and sinkers and a roll of fishing line. He gave a distant smile as he inspected the reel and thanked Al quietly.
Fishing was a passion Stephen shared with Al, but they hadn't gone in some time because Stephen's reel was broken. Now all he needed was a Connecticut license, a lake or river with some fish in it...and maybe some enthusiasm.
"So where's my surprise?" Carmen asked.
Al put an arm around her, squeezed her to him and whispered in her ear with a smirk, "You'll get yours later."
Dinner was festive, with utensils clattering against plates and voices chattering. After dinner, everyone retreated to the living room—Al with a beer; she'd stocked the fridge on her last trip to the supermarket—to look for something good to watch on television while Carmen began to clear the table. Without being asked and without saying a word, Stephen came into the dining room and began to help her.
"Well," she said with quiet surprise, "to what do I owe this honor?"
Stephen smiled, but said nothing for a while, not until the table was cleared and the dishes were ready to be washed.
"I'll help you wash 'em if you'll do me a favor!' he said sheepishly.
"Oh? What's that?"
He bowed his head and thought about it a moment, then: "Would you, um...go downstairs and get my tacklebox out of my bedroom?"
She smiled, but held back the small laugh that was trying to escape. "Sure, honey," she said. "And you don't even have to help me with the dishes if you don't want."
When he got his tacklebox, Stephen put it on the dining-room table beside his reel, hooks, sinkers, and line, seated himself and opened the box slowly, almost reverently. As he was putting the new additions in the box, Al slid a chair over and sat down beside him after getting another beer from the fridge.
"Pretty neat, huh?"
"Yeah," Stephen said with a nod.
Al put something on the table, a small rectangular card. "Whatta you say we break it in tomorrow?"
Stephen smiled down at the license, then up at Al. "Really? That'd be great," he said, a little flatly.
They discussed fishing for a while, discussed where they might go, with Al doing most of the talking. Then they fell silent. The air between them changed, grew somewhat tense, until Stephen finally asked in a hoarse whisper, "Dad, do you think that if a person hears...um, voices, that he's crazy?"
Al took a sip of beer, then said, "No. No, lots of people hear voices. Some people see things. Sometimes, if a person's under enough stress, all kinds of weird things can happen to him. Especially if that person's been sick, you know what I mean?"
Stephen looked at him with suspicious curiosity.
Al nodded. "Your mom told me about it on the phone. And no, I don't think you're crazy. But listen, Stephen. You're gonna have to keep it to yourself, okay? You can't go around telling the other kids. You already scared the hell out of Stephanie."
Stephen closed his eyes and sighed quietly, thinking, I didn't, dammit, I didn't tell them.
"You need to relax, is all," Al continued. "And that's what we're gonna do tomorrow, just you and me. We're gonna relax and make some fish nervous, okay?"
Stephen nodded. "Okay."
"Come into the living room. There's an old Abbott and Costello movie on."
"In a minute."
Al returned to the living room and Stephen put everything in the tacklebox, then closed and latched it. He left it on the table as he got up and went down the hall to the bathroom. His hand froze two inches from the bathroom doorknob as a voice said, "Stephen, what are you doing?" Quiet, but clear.
His breath caught in his throat. He turned only with great effort, slowly, stiffly. He looked down the stairs into the blackness below.
"Stephen? I really think you should come down here." Just quiet enough so the others couldn't hear over the sound of the television.
Stephen backed up a couple steps until his back was touching the bathroom door.
"Stephen?"
There was movement in the darkness below, a subtle shift of gray in the black.
Stephen's throat seemed to swell. His chest ached with the pounding of his heart.
"Come here, Stephen."
The dry shuffle of feet scraped over the concrete floor.
"Stephen?"
He peeled himself away from the bathroom door, hurried along the hall toward the living room and stopped in the foyer to catch his breath. He stood still a moment, eyes closed, arms clenched tightly over his chest, lips pressed together.
Then he went into the living room, sat on the sofa, and stared blindly at the black-and-white images on the television. He remained silent while the others laughed, trying not to think of what he'd heard, trying not to think of his full, aching bladder.
4
More Voices
During the next month, Carmen became friends with Tanya, a neighbor on the block. Tanya was a heavy-set brunette and she was very pregnant. She and her husband, Benjamin, had moved in only a few months earlier, hoping to be completely settled before the baby decided to make his or her appearance, which would be any time now.
"Look, I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," Tanya said over iced tea in Carmen's sun-room one afternoon. "Stephen's illness has really upset things for everybody and you're in a new house, a new town...makes sense that the kids aren't themselves. I can understa
nd Stephen hearing things, Stephanie seeing things." She sipped. "Don't make a big deal of it and it'll pass."
"Well, I don't know. I could sort of understand Stephen thinking he'd heard things...y'know, voices, whatever. But when Stephanie said—"
"But you said yourself that Stephen probably said something to her about the voices he heard, maybe even about the house's ugly past. Besides, they miss their dad. You know how that is, you miss him. Don't you feel a little off-center because of that?"
"Yeah. You're right," Carmen said, smiling. "But it drives me nuts, you know?"
"If they stop doing things that drive you nuts, then you should worry."
Carmen laughed. "You talk like you've been a mother as long as I have and you haven't even had your baby yet."
Tanya shrugged and grinned. "So, I'm practicing."
That evening, as the sunlight faded outside where Stephanie was keeping an eye on Peter, Carmen was sitting on the sofa talking to her mother on the telephone. The television was on with the volume low and Stephen was somewhere in the house. She was telling her mother how Stephen was coming along, talking about Stephanie and Peter, when Stephen hurried into the room buckling his belt, with eyes wide.
"Is...is Dad home?" he asked, looking around.
"No, course not, you know that. He's in New York until the weekend."
"I heard him call me."
"What?"
"I heard him call me just now. It...sounded like he was in the hall, like he'd just come in," he said as he looked back over his shoulder toward the front door.
"Mom, can I call you back in a little while?" Carmen said. After she said good-bye and hung up, she asked, "Now, what'd you say?"
"I thought...maybe Dad came home early, or something. I heard him call me just now."
"Well, you couldn't have heard him, hon. He's not here. But, you know what? Sometimes I miss him so much, I wouldn't be surprised if I thought I heard him, too. But it won't be long before he'll be here with us all the time and he'll come home from work every evening and when we think we hear him, it'll be because we do."
