by Geof Johnson
“Good. I see our waitress coming with our pizza, so I’ll go get Zach and we can eat. We’ll all feel better, then.”
* * *
Zach jerked upright in his bed after he heard another ominous creak out in the hall. His heart began to race as he stared at the darkened doorway, anticipating an intruder at any moment, but after a long, anxious minute, no one came.
Earlier, his grandfather had warned Zach to expect noises in the night, “Old houses settle as they cool off from the day’s heat,” he’d explained. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
Zach was frightened anyway.
He lay back down and rolled onto his side, facing the nightlight his mother had thoughtfully placed in the electric outlet on the wall by the dresser. He felt guilty for having it there, but if he’d left his overhead light on instead, his grandfather or someone else might’ve seen it from outside and thought Zach to be a coward.
Zach could hear his father’s voice in his head. You’re too old for a night light. You’re twelve already. Nightlights are for babies. Do you want a pacifier, too?
Zach fisted both hands and fought the urge to get out of his bed and go to his mother’s room and slip into hers. She’d let, him, he knew. I don’t want her to think I’m a coward, either. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, praying for sleep to come.
Liz turned her head toward her open door when she heard Zach’s bed creak again. He’s frightened. Maybe I should go sleep with him. She continued to stare into the hall, and realized that she was scared too, but not of the noises.
What am I doing here? I thought I had escaped from this place. I used to be so proud of myself, with my good life in the big city. And now? She sighed heavily. I’m back like a dog with her tail between her legs.
No matter how much she’d tried to convince Zach that they’d landed on their feet after a terrible tragedy, she hadn’t convinced herself. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmured for the thousandth time. We can make it. We have a roof over our heads and I have a job. It’ll be enough.
Repeating that didn’t make her feel any better, though.
Chapter 2
Liz woke to an unfamiliar sight, and it took her several seconds to get oriented. I’m in my new house, she remembered. My new old house.
The curtains in her room were glowing from the sunrise. A bird was chirping in the ash tree just outside her window. The bed covers were pulled up to her chin, and she realized that the air was pleasantly cool, even though it was mid-June. She’d forgotten how it could be like that sometimes in Whitmer, nestled in the farthest corner of western North Carolina, close to the mountains and the national forest.
Something else seemed different, and it took her a minute to figure out what it was: the sound. Except for the chirping bird, there was mostly silence. If she were back in Raleigh, there would already be plenty of noise outside, even on a Sunday morning. Somebody in the neighborhood would’ve had a lawn service truck out front, with a crew running mowers, line trimmers, blowers, or perhaps the worst of all, chain saws.
Right now, though, it was quiet. Blissfully so.
She opened her eyes and considered her bedroom — the cardboard boxes that still needed unpacking, the suitcases placed against the wall, the stack of clothes draped over the top of the dresser — and she knew she needed to get up and get going. Too much to do to lie in bed all morning.
She went into the small bathroom tucked in the corner and peed, gave her a hair a cursory brushing, and slipped on the clothes she’d hung on the hook over the door. After one last look in the mirror, she left.
She crept out into the hall, wincing at every creak of the floor, and peeked into Zach’s room to find him still asleep, his face relaxed, finally, after a rough night.
She went downstairs to the kitchen, still a jumbled mess of more unpacked boxes and small appliances. The coffee maker was on the counter where she’d left it the night before, along with a bag of Colombian roast beside it. She placed a fresh filter in the top, filled it with exactly six spoonfuls of dark, aromatic grounds, poured in the water and pressed the power button. Then she turned and regarded the room where she would be doing most of her cooking for many years to come.
It was much larger than the kitchen she’d left behind in Raleigh and obviously intended for a big family, not the small one that would be using it now. It had a high ceiling, in the center of which was an antique-looking light fixture, dome-shaped and wrapped in tarnished brass filigree. Small dead insects were visible inside the glass, clustered near its center like burned rice. That must’ve been lovely when it was new. I can clean it and get it looking good again.
The cabinets were painted pale green, with darker green tiles covering the countertops and backsplash. It had a single sink, porcelain, chipped and stained with age. Ugly, she decided, and in need of replacing. Maybe I can get Dad to do that soon. Above that was a window with a view of the terrace and the unruly backyard. She gazed through it and tried to imagine what it looked like in its heyday, when her rich, eccentric great uncle lived there. She’d hardly ever seen it, even though she grew up two houses away. I bet it was nice. With some hard work it could be nice again. Put it on the list. Liz was good at lists. They helped her get through her busy days. This list, though, was looking like it might be endless.
Yesterday, they had moved the old kitchen table and chairs into the garage and replaced them with hers, and it gave her a small sense of comfort to have them there. The refrigerator was hers, too. Well, all of it is, now, I guess. The gas stove had been installed while Aunt Winnie lived in the house, and it looked to be in good condition. She turned one of the black knobs and the front right burner ignited with a faint whoosh, and she felt relieved.
She crossed her arms and exhaled heavily toward the stove. So much to do. Better get going.
She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the link sausage she’d bought the night before — Zach’s favorite — and rummaged through the cardboard boxes until she found the electric skillet and the pancake mix.
* * *
Zach woke up in a strange bed, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. I’m in the creepy old house. He was surrounded by things he was accustomed to — his furniture, his clothes draped cross the chair, his skateboard poster thumbtacked on the wall — but it wasn’t his room.
He dressed and went downstairs to warm, familiar smells, and found his mother cooking at the big stove in the kitchen. “Did you sleep okay?” she said.
“No.” He stood at the edge of the room, and noticed the closed door beside him. “Where does that go?”
“The basement. Want to see it?”
He edged away from it. “Uh, no.”
“Are you sure? The light’s burned out, but you can take the flashlight and have a quick peek if you want to. It’s the only part of the house you haven’t seen yet.”
“No thanks.” He stepped farther away from the ominous door. It could be hiding anything. Ghosts. Monsters. Dead relatives.
“We’re going to have to go down there eventually. We’ll probably have to clean it out so we can store our things.”
There’s no way I’m going down there.
“That’s where the lab is.”
Zach eyed it again. Well…maybe.
Liz sat across from Zach at the table and watched him drain the last of the orange juice from his glass and set it beside his plate, empty now except for the wide puddle of syrup.
“Did you get enough to eat?” she said. “Because we have a lot to do today. I want you to start with your room and finish getting it together.”
“Can I set up Dad’s stuff after that? Where are we going to put it? Can I put it in the living room?”
“His awards? I really don’t want to see that—” She caught herself before she said junk. “I don’t think that’s a good place for it.”
“How about the sitting room, then?”
“I thought we’d put the TV in there and turn it into the family room,
and I don’t want to look at his softball trophies and stuff all the time.”
“Where, then?”
I’d be happy to stick it in the attic. “How about in your room?”
“There’s too much of it. It needs lots of space.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “How about the bedroom across from yours? You can make a shrine for him in there.” She added the last part as a joke, but when Zach’s face lit up, she could tell that he didn’t think of it as one.
“Yeah.” He grinned. “That would be awesome. Do you know where we put the hammer and picture hangers? I need those, right?”
“Are you going to put up all of those old framed certificates and things, too?”
“I’m gonna display everything.”
“Even his high school diploma?”
He nodded, still grinning. “Can I use some of the shelves we put in the garage? They’d be perfect, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Zach.” She closed her eyes briefly and held back the sigh that threatened to overwhelm her. “Yes, that’s fine. Can it wait until we paint in there? It’ll be so much easier that way.”
“It needs to be done as soon as possible.”
“Then we’ll have to take all of that stuff down again. You’re going to have to do that, because I don’t want to. I have too much to do as it is without having to do things twice.”
“I don’t care. I’ll do it.” He turned in his seat toward the boxes on the floor behind him. “Do you remember where we put the hammer?”
“It’s in the garage. But can you wait until your grandfather gets over here to help? I don’t want you putting a hole in the wall.”
“He said don’t wake him up early ’cause he sleeps late on Sunday, and I want to do this now.”
“Wait a little bit and I’ll help you. Let me clean up the dishes and put a load of curtains in the washing machine. I’ve got at least two days’ worth of laundry to do, and I need to get it started as soon as possible.”
* * *
Liz hung the last picture on the wall, a photo of John at a podium, accepting an award at some banquet. She’d forgotten which one. There were so many. She turned and looked at Zach, who stood on the other side of the room with his eyes narrowed critically. “Well,” she said, “are you satisfied?”
“One more box of stuff and then we’ll be done.”
“No, Zach. We’ve put out everything that’s worth putting out. Besides, there’s no more room.” She gestured loosely at the collection of trophies, plaques, diplomas, and photos that covered the walls, the dresser, the bedside table, and the three shelves.
“I want all of it out. I can put the ribbons and medals on the bed. Can we put the rest somewhere else?”
“No,” she said a little too firmly. “That last box is just junk that John didn’t really care about.”
“It’s not junk! It’s Dad’s.”
I should’ve chosen my words more carefully. “I promise you it didn’t mean much to your father. He didn’t want to put it out either. It’s just stuff like his award for winning the fourth-grade spelling bee and his life guard certificate and things like that. The box sat in our basement ever since we moved into our last house. Leave it, Zach, for gosh sakes. Enough is enough.”
He scowled while he seemed to be thinking of an argument, but he finally said, “Okay. Can I go ride my skateboard after I put the ribbons out?”
“We have too much to do. You can ride it later.”
“But I’m tired already. I need a break.”
“You’re going to be a lot more tired by the time we’re finished today. I have a list a mile long of things we need to do.”
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “You and your lists.”
“I can’t do it by myself.”
“Grandpa will be here soon.”
“I need both of you.”
“Please, Mom? Before it gets too hot? I bet it’s nice outside right now, and nobody’s on the sidewalk.”
She held his gaze for several seconds before saying, “All right, but only for thirty minutes. Then you can help me dust the downstairs before lunch.” He started for the door but she held up her hand to stop him. “And wear your helmet.”
“Dad never made me wear it.”
“That’s because your father—” thought it made you look like a sissy. “Your father’s not here, and I am, and I say wear your helmet.” He started to complain further and she shook her head. “Fine. You can stay here and help me, instead.”
“Okay! I’ll wear it. Do you know where it is?”
“I think it’s in the garage, in that box beside your bike. Speaking of bikes, why don’t you ride it, instead?”
“The chain’s messed up.”
“Your father never fixed that? After all the times I reminded him?” Zach shrugged and she said, “Maybe we can get your Grandpa to do it.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Hurry back.”
* * *
Zach stood out front with his skateboard at his feet, trying to adjust the chin strap on his helmet. Hate this thing. Nobody else wears one.
He finally got it snapped where it wasn’t too tight or too loose, put one foot on the back of the skateboard and pushed off a couple of times with the other, then he glided down the sidewalk that fronted the long row of houses. The third one he passed had a For Sale sign out front, but it was not in much better condition than the one he’d just moved into. Big and ugly like the others around it.
He pushed off again and the sidewalk began to gradually slope downhill. He enjoyed the breeze on his face and the sunshine on his skin, not too warm yet, for summer. It’s probably hot already, back home. I mean, in Raleigh. He had to remind himself that this was his home, now. It didn’t seem like it.
He came upon a stoop-shouldered man with thin white hair, still in his robe and slippers, shuffling up the driveway toward his house with a newspaper under one arm. He turned when he heard the clacking of the skateboard’s wheels on the sidewalk, and he smiled faintly and waved with a shaky hand. Zach waved back without slowing. No one else was in sight. No pedestrians. No traffic on the road.
Without warning, a boy burst across the street in front of Zach, running left to right, carrying something long and black in one hand. It’s a rifle! He made it to the grass and suddenly yelped and fell to the ground, clutching his buttocks with his free hand. He turned, looked back the way he’d come, and shouted, “Dammit, Jason. That hurt!” Then he rolled to his feet and continued his sprint.
Zach stopped and looked in the direction the boy had been facing, and saw another boy run to the edge of the street, stop, and level a rifle of his own at the retreating youth. He squeezed the trigger but there was no crack of a report, just a click, and Zach realized it was probably a BB gun. The shooter frowned and resumed his pursuit, and it was then that Zach noticed the similarities between the two. They had the same straw-colored hair, longer than Zach’s and uncombed. They were the same size, with identical wiry bodies and scruffy clothes — cutoff jeans and grubby T-shirts. They’re twins! Zach stared open mouthed at the path between the two houses where they’d vanished, but turned when he heard more footsteps.
A girl appeared, running across the street after the boys. She also had straw-colored hair, but it was frizzy, and she was skinnier and wore pink plastic-framed glasses. “Jason! Justin!” she called after them. “I’m telling Mom! Mr. Norris is really mad this time.”
She made it to the sidewalk before she seemed to notice Zach, and she stopped abruptly and faced him. “Oh. Who are you?”
“Uh…I’m Zach.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I just moved in down the street.”
“At the mad scientist’s house? We saw the truck yesterday and wondered who it was. We thought it was more old people.”
“No, it’s just me and my mom. And my granddad, too, kinda. I mean, he already lives here…two doors down from us.”
“Old man Ogletree?”
It took him a couple of seconds to realiz
e she meant Grandpa Rick. “Uh, yeah.”
“Oh. Cool. Well, I’m Shelby.” She raced after the boys and disappeared between the houses.
* * *
Liz was standing on a chair, wiping out a kitchen cabinet that she’d just emptied, when she heard someone come in.
“Anybody home?” her father called from the foyer.
“In here, Dad.”
He stopped in the doorway and looked around the kitchen, at every available surface that was covered with stacks of pots, pans, cups, glasses, and plates. “You’ve been busy, I see.”
“I’ve got to unload and clean all of these cabinets before I can put my stuff in them.” She made a disgusted face. “They’re filthy.”
“Are you going to keep any of Winnie’s dinnerware?”
“I don’t know.” She stepped down from the chair and set her sponge on the edge of the counter. “I’d rather use my plates and things, and I’m sure that would make Zach feel more at home, but I still need to go through all of it to see what’s here.”
“How about the china cabinet in the dining room? I think that’s full of Willow Ware. That seems like something you’d like.”
“I may keep that, if we have cabinet space. The rest of it I’ll probably just box up and give to charity, or put it in the attic. Or in the basement, if you ever replace that light bulb. I still haven’t been down there.” She wiped her hands on a small towel. “Did you bring your hedge clippers? Those shrubs out front have to be trimmed today. I want to brighten this place up, and cutting those away from the windows will make a big difference.”
“Got my electric clippers on the porch and I brought a long extension cord. Where’s Zach? I thought I’d show him how to do this so I don’t have to do it every time. He’s old enough for that, don’t you think?”
“Could he hurt himself? I don’t want him cutting off his fingers.”
“He’ll be fine.”
“He could injure himself if he’s using dangerous equipment.”
“I’ll make sure he does it right, for cryin’ out loud. Do you always baby him like that?”
“Now you sound like John.”
