The Dark Stairs R/I

by Byars, Betsy

  But if it wasn’t Meat, she wondered, why hadn’t Meat sounded the alarm? Why hadn’t he knocked over the garbage can to warn her?

  She wanted to lift her head, but she didn’t dare. Even with her head pressed against her knees, with her eyelids squeezed shut, she knew the exact moment the person got to the basement door.

  The door had been left open, but it creaked as if someone bigger than Herculeah was planning to come in. There was a terrible silence as the person stood, looking inside.

  Herculeah’s heart had moved up into her throat.

  Nothing happened. The awful moment stretched on and on. Silently Herculeah glanced around the side of the deer.

  Silhouetted in the doorway was a man. Highlighted by the strange misty light, the man looked huge. Herculeah drew in her breath. He was more than huge. He was a giant.

  He ducked his head to peer into the basement.

  Herculeah rested her forehead against the cold stone of the deer. There had been something frightening and familiar about that shape.

  The man reached into his pocket and brought out a cigarette lighter. There was a faint click, and in the glow from the small flame, Herculeah saw his face. It was the Moloch.

  Her knees began to tremble. She had to breathe through her mouth to get enough air.

  The Moloch came into the basement and stopped. Herculeah cringed as he lifted the lighter and its pale glow touched the objects around her. She clutched her hair tighter about her head.

  The Moloch did not come back to where she crouched in fear. Instead he moved over to the workbench. He stood there, and then, as if he were familiar with the table, he picked up something, opened a drawer, and took something from it. Herculeah longed to stand up so she could see, but she remembered the burning look of the Moloch’s eyes in her living room, the fear she had felt at his terrible smile. She stayed where she was.

  Her heart was beating so loud, it pounded in her ears.

  Apparently, the Moloch had found what he needed. Herculeah heard him move toward the door. She heard him take a step outside.

  Herculeah lifted her head. Silhouetted against the light from the parking lot, she saw him raise his arm. For one terrible moment, Herculeah thought he had seen her and was lifting his arm in a terrible and final gesture of farewell.

  But the moment lengthened. He seemed to be reaching for something. She heard a faint crumbling sound. What was he doing? Why didn’t he leave?

  She didn’t move. The Moloch lowered his arm, and Herculeah heard the faint click as he extinguished the cigarette lighter. She heard the creaking sound as the Moloch began to close the door.

  Herculeah had a moment of such relief that she felt weak. The Moloch hadn’t seen her. The Moloch was leaving. And just as soon as he was gone, she could leave too. She could get Meat and—

  Then Herculeah froze.

  For she heard something that turned her blood cold. She heard the sound of hammering.

  The Moloch was nailing the door shut.

  And she was trapped inside.

  10

  THE MAN WHO WAS NOT A DREAM

  Meat awoke, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. His body felt stiff and uncomfortable, the way it did when he fell asleep on the floor watching TV. He hated that, especially when the channel had gone off the air and he was faced with a screen of snow.

  But this was worse. There was no screen, and the world itself seemed to have lost its color. Everything was sort of white.

  Meat tried not to panic. Perhaps something had gone wrong with his eyes. He rubbed them, but there was no change.

  “What is this?” he murmured.

  All the good colors in the world—the ones he found so restful—the blues and greens—had faded, and he was left in a world of grayish-white.

  It was like the time the color on the TV set had gone bad, and for weeks—until his mother got the money for repair—he had watched a world of gray. All his favorites, even Norm on Cheers, had been pale and insignificant.

  Well, he knew one thing. Wherever he was, he had to get out of there. He had to get home.

  He rolled over, bracing himself on one knee, and staggered to his feet. He stumbled clumsily.

  As he struggled for balance, he knocked over something, something big. It felt like a—maybe a garbage can.

  The sound was an explosion in the quiet night. The metal crashed against the pavement. Then the lid fell off and clattered around and around.

  Meat put his hands to his ears. What was this terrible noise? Where was he?

  At that moment he came fully awake. He remembered it all. He was here on sentry duty. He closed his eyes in dismay as the full horror of the situation washed over him.

  Herculeah had gone into the basement of Dead Oaks. And his part in the disaster was to stand watch and turn over the garbage can if anyone came. She had trusted him. And he, like a fool, had fallen asleep and knocked over the garbage can by accident.

  Herculeah would be furious with him. He began to create a quick story.

  “I thought I saw someone. I swear I thought I saw someone. Maybe it was a shadow. Oh, all right, it was a shadow but it was right at the gate. I thought it was a big man. Or maybe I dreamed it. I have to admit I did doze off for a second—”

  He opened his eyes. He began to feel a little better.

  “That’s it. I thought I saw someone at the gate, and I didn’t want to take any chances and so I knocked the garbage can over. Your life is very valuable to me, Herculeah. ”

  His eyes began to focus and he looked down the alley. He expected to see Herculeah running toward him.

  Instead, he found, to his dismay, that the story he had created was true. There was someone at the gate. It was a big man, a very big man.

  Meat paused, frozen with fear. The man turned in the direction of the parking lot. The lid of the garbage can was still clattering at Meat’s feet, drawing attention to his unfortunate position.

  Meat wanted to duck down, but there was nothing big enough for him to duck behind. He froze. He knew how animals felt caught in the headlights of a car, waiting to be clobbered.

  The man was bound to be able to see him. He was in the light.

  But Meat couldn’t see the man clearly. He was in the shadows. All he could see was that the man was large and he had on dark clothes.

  Maybe, Meat thought, the man was some sort of night watchman—they wore dark clothes—or a policeman. He would have to think up a pretty good story if it was a policeman.

  “I was on my way home from a Boy Scout meeting, sir, and I didn’t feel well and I decided to sit down for a moment and—”

  Maybe it would even be Herculeah’s dad. And Herculeah’s dad would forbid her to do these dangerous things, and they could all go home and have hot chocolate.

  The figure began to walk toward him. The steps were slow and heavy.

  It was not a policeman or a night watchman or Herculeah’s dad. With increasing dread, Meat made out a huge man in a black coat and a black hat.

  His mouth dropped open. It was the last person in the world Meat wanted to see. It was the Moloch.

  Meat stepped back. He found himself flat against the wall of the hardware store.

  He had a moment of terrible decision. He didn’t know whether to run or to—

  He tried hard, but he couldn’t think of another choice. Running was the only thing to do.

  The Moloch was still coming toward him in that slow, heavy way, one step at a time.

  Meat knew that in a few more steps, he would be able to see those burning, terrible eyes. He made a decision.

  He pulled himself away from the hardware store, turned, ran around the corner of the store and headed for home.

  At the corner he turned and ran backward a few steps to see if the Moloch was still following. He was not in sight.

  “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder. He hoped Herculeah could hear him in that musty black basement.

  Well, he thought, at le
ast he had warned her. He had knocked over the garbage can.

  His heart raced with fear and with a determination to, once again, save Herculeah.

  He paused in front of the House of Cards store. He put his fingers in his mouth. He would give a whistle so loud it would shatter windows, wake the dead, cause dogs all over the county to bay at the moon.

  He blew but nothing happened. For the first time in his life his whistle failed. He knew the truth. A person could get too scared to whistle.

  11

  HERCULEAH IN THE DARK

  Using the statue for support, Herculeah pulled herself to her feet and stood in the darkness. The blackness around her was complete—not a glimmer of light to show her the way.

  She stepped around the deer and bumped into the wheelbarrow. There was a thud as her knee hit the metal.

  Herculeah froze, waiting to see if that sound would bring the Moloch back. In the seconds that followed she noticed three things.

  1. There were no footsteps coming back to the house.

  2. Her knee was beginning to throb where she had struck it on the wheelbarrow.

  And 3. Someone, somewhere, had just turned over a garbage can.

  “Now you warn me,” Herculeah said. “Why didn’t you warn me when I could have done something about it?Meeeeat!”

  She broke off and listened to make sure neither the Moloch nor Meat was coming. Then she began to grope her way toward the door.

  Her hands touched rakes and shovels. She found a hoe, a trowel.

  In all these tools, she thought, there has to be a pickax or a hatchet. If she could get her hands on something sharp, she could hack at the door until it gave. The wood was half rotten.

  She felt garden hoses, the old lawn mower—nothing she could use. By now she had made her way to the door.

  She put her hands against the wood and rested for a moment. No sounds came from the yard. She wondered if the Moloch was gone, or if he was still outside, waiting at the gate.

  If she could get the door open, she knew she could get away. The Moloch was huge, but she was fast. If she could break out of the basement, she could streak across the yard and vault over the fence. She wouldn’t have to bother with the gate.

  She took a deep breath. She rested one shoulder against the door and pushed slightly, testing the strength of the wood.

  There was some give in it. The nails might not hold. He had only put in one or two.

  Herculeah pulled back and rammed her shoulder into the door. Pain shot up to her neck. She drew back and pushed again, again.

  It took four tries, and then, with a screeching sound, the door burst open. Herculeah staggered out into the cool night air. She stood for a moment, bent forward, gasping for breath.

  She looked up, ready to run, but the Moloch was nowhere in sight. She didn’t take any chances. She decided to run anyway.

  Herculeah streaked across the yard, the weeds whipping around her ankles. She got to the fence, grasped the metal rail, and vaulted cleanly over it.

  She ran down the alley and out onto the sidewalk. She looked around wildly, but the Moloch was not in sight.

  There were just ordinary people, doing ordinary things, driving cars, looking in shop windows, coming out of the frozen yogurt shop, eating cones.

  Herculeah stopped her desperate run and paused to catch her breath. After a moment she began to jog for home.

  As she turned the corner onto her street, she saw Meat and his mother coming toward her. They were walking fast.

  Meat’s mother had a frying pan in one hand—her weapon of choice. Meat held a baseball bat that had never swatted a ball.

  Herculeah called, “I’m all right.” She ran to join them.

  “What happened?” Meat asked, walking forward to meet her.

  “He nailed the door shut. I was inside that basement with the door nailed shut. Then, then you knocked over the garbage can.”

  “I didn’t see him when he went in,” Meat admitted truthfully. “He nailed you in there?”

  “Right.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “I just put my shoulder to the door and pushed.”

  “You broke out?”

  Herculeah nodded. “The door was rotten. You saw how easy it was for me to get in.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I started for home, and here I am.”

  “The Moloch wasn’t there when you got out?”

  She shook her head.

  Meat’s mother said, “I do not like having to come out with my frying pan after you kids. I want you kids to behave yourselves.”

  “But thank you for doing it,” Herculeah said.

  Meat’s mother turned and walked away. Over her shoulder she said, “Albert, you come home now. Herculeah’s gotten you in enough trouble for one night.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “What we’ve got to do next time—” Herculeah began when his mother was in the house and out of earshot, but Meat interrupted.

  “Next time? Next time? Are you crazy? Have you gone absolutely mad?”

  “No, I am not mad.”

  “Well, you look like it.”

  She put her hands to her hair and tried to smooth it into place. She probably did look wild. But then she had every reason to. She looked coolly at Meat.

  Meat looked back. He was weak with fright and tension. This had been the most terrifying night of his life. It had been far, far worse than that terrible Halloween two years ago.

  He kept looking into Herculeah’s gray eyes and spoke with unusual sarcasm. “Why don’t you go in the house and put on those glasses. You really do need something to make you think!”

  And he went up the stairs to his house and closed the door.

  12

  ABOUT DEAD OAKS

  Herculeah looked in the hall mirror. She smiled at herself.

  She looked much better now. She had showered and washed her hair and combed it back into a ponytail.

  When she had first come into the house and caught sight of her face in the hall mirror she had been startled. Meat had been right. She did look slightly mad.

  Her hair stood out from her head and was coated with cobwebs. Her face was smeared with dirt. Her breathing hadn’t gotten back to normal. And excitement always brought a certain wild gleam to her eyes.

  She was glad that her mother hadn’t been there to see her. She also hoped that Meat’s mom would not come over in the morning and say, “I had to go out with my frying pan after that daughter of yours last night.”

  Herculeah had put on a Chinese robe she had bought at Goodwill. She didn’t like to shop in the stores at the mall—The Gap and The Limited. She liked different clothes.

  She took one last glance in the mirror. She was pleased with the way she looked, and she went downstairs to wait for her mother.

  Herculeah was sitting on the sofa, thinking back over the evening, when she remembered Meat’s last words.

  “Why don’t you go in the house and put on those glasses. You really do need something to make you think!” he had said.

  Meat was being sarcastic, but it wasn’t a bad idea. She went to the hall closet and took her eyeglasses from her jacket pocket.

  As she walked back to the sofa, she fastened the slender hooks behind her ears.

  She sat down and stared into the thick, pale glass circles. The world disappeared in a kind of pleasant haze, and Herculeah waited for the magic—for the thoughts to burst into her brain the way they had earlier in Hidden Treasures.

  She was just beginning to feel the first stirrings of thought when she heard her mother’s car out front, and the process was interrupted.

  “Mom, I’m in here,” she called.

  Her mother appeared in the doorway. “I thought you’d be in bed.”

  “I wasn’t sleepy. I wanted to wait up for you.”

  “Well, I am sleepy. Turn out the lights when you come up.” She looked at Herculeah more closely. “Are those the glasses you bought
today?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t see out of them. I know you can’t. Why on earth would you spend good money to be blind?”

  “You’ve missed the whole point, Mom.”

  “Obviously.”

  “They don’t make me blind, they allow me to think. I fog out.”

  “Then the money was certainly well spent.” Now her mother was being sarcastic.

  Herculeah took off the glasses and followed her mother to the stairs. “Can I ask you something?”

  “I’m tired, Herculeah.”

  “This is not a tiring sort of question—just something sort of historical I want to know.”

  “What?”

  “I’m curious about Dead Oaks.”

  “Oh?”

  “That’s the old house Dad was at today.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “It used to be called Twin Oaks, but now everybody calls it—”

  Her mother looked at Herculeah. Her tired eyes were suddenly sharp. “Why are you so interested in that house all of a sudden?”

  “It’s not all of a sudden,” Herculeah said defensively. “I’ve always been curious about that house. Meat was talking about it tonight. He said that some boys told him the old man disappeared.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Meat said that some boys told him that the police went in the house and didn’t find anything. There was food on the table and money in his wallet, but the man wasn’t there.”

  “It was in the newspaper. I don’t remember all the details.” Her mother turned and continued up the stairs.

  Herculeah followed. “I remember there was some sort of legal document—you’re bound to know something about that. You’re into legal documents.”

  “Oh, all right,” her mother said, relenting a little. “Let’s see. There was a will, and it stated that the house could not be sold or disposed of until after his funeral. And since there has been no funeral—there couldn’t be, there has been no dead body—the house remains. ”

  “Meat said that when the police went in, he wasn’t there. Do you think he could have been hiding?”