by Sean Platt
The things were perhaps seven feet tall, rail thin, dark-skinned, naked, with long black hair to their waists, reminding him of some sort of cross between movie aliens and Native Americans he’d seen in history books.
Hudson couldn’t tell if they were men, women, or a mix of both. While some seemed a bit taller, with slightly more pronounced jaws, none had breasts or genitals, so far as he could see. Their eyes were large dark ovals. Instead of noses, they had a pair of slits. Their mouths seemed normal, slightly wider than a human’s.
Again, Hudson’s legs wobbled beneath him.
He nearly fell, but his mother saved him, throwing an arm around him. “There’s nothing to worry about, Hudson, they won’t hurt you. I promise. They’re aliens, stuck here in the The Hold.”
“What’s The Hold?”
“They’re friendly,” Hazel said, instead of answering her brother.
Hudson wasn’t so sure they were friendly.
He felt weak, and weird. Something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t help but think that they were somehow responsible.
He heard movement behind them, from the house his mother had been in. He looked in the doorway and saw another human exit: Savannah.
She stepped out into the yard wearing a long white shirt over a long, flowing white dress, smiling at Hudson as if in recognition. As if she had been talking to him.
“Your mother is right,” Savannah said. “The Umlai are friends.”
* * * *
SCOTT
Scott had been arguing with Carter in front of the garage for five minutes that felt like an hour. He found the old man increasingly annoying, and now he wanted to punch him. There was too much he wasn’t saying. He was either a crazy coot, or a downright liar, and Scott was reasonably sure the old man was too sharp for the first.
“I want answers. I want to know whatever you’re not saying.”
Something in Carter’s face seemed to relax.
“I can see that you are upset, Mr. Dawson. I understand, and sympathize. You do deserve answers, and it is almost time.”
“There’s no almost about it.” Scott cut him off before he could make more excuses. “I want to know now. The children are back, so your Depends don’t need to stay in a knot. I want to know why my daughter thinks she’s seeing Holly’s ghost, how she knows things she couldn’t possibly know, and why you don’t seem surprised by any of it!”
Scott wondered if he’d ever felt angrier.
“I want answers, starting with Hazel: Why is she seeing things?” Scott swallowed, then asked the second, harder question. “And are any of the things she’s seeing real?”
“Mr. Dawson, now is not the time. Tomorrow, the four of us will sit and have a long — and you are quite right I am willing to concede, overdue — chat. Tonight, I cannot grant that. Right now, we must account for the children and keep everyone from danger.”
Grant that?
“Keep everyone from danger?” Scott felt a growl thicken in his throat. “What danger?”
A loud buzzing came from Carter’s pocket. It seemed to rattle his body. He stepped back from Scott, thrust his hand into his pocket, fished for a moment, then withdrew a thin glass tablet. He looked at the screen, peering down at something Scott couldn’t see, then slipped it back into his pocket and — his face twisted into something awful and sudden — yelled, “Later or never. Your choice, Mr. Dawson. Right now I must go.”
Carter turned to leave, but Scott wouldn’t let him.
“You’re not going anywhere.” He thrust out his hand, grabbed Carter by the arm, and yanked the old man back.
Carter shrugged Scott from his body like an unwanted leaf, and kept marching toward the manor.
“You can’t ignore me,” Scott yelled, then ran forward, fast enough to cut him off. Carter simply pushed passed him.
“I said you can’t ignore me!” Scott grabbed him hard by the shoulder.
Carter reeled around, thrust his hands at Scott’s chest, and sent him sailing across the lawn, at least twenty feet, before Scott slammed into the ground.
He sat up, stunned, trying to catch his breath.
What the hell?
Scott had no idea how an old man could have so much strength. He tried to stand but a sharp pain in his back stopped him.
He ignored the pain, forced himself upright, and gave chase.
Carter raced into the manor.
Scott quickly followed, eager to finish this battle of wills. If Scott somehow managed not to lose the manor, his first order of business would be to fire the old fucker.
He followed Carter through the ground floor until finally seeing the man step into the cellar.
What the hell is he doing in the cellar now?
The old man left the door open, and a faint green light lit the stairway.
Scott followed, running right into Carter, who was making his way back out. The two men collided; Carter looked up, his eyes wide and afraid.
In a voice that was mostly gravel, he rasped, “Where are your children?”
* * * *
HAZEL
Hazel was back with Mom and Hudson. Everything almost felt better.
She had missed her mother deeply, in a way that was worse than loss because it never healed. She had no scabs to flake and forget. Even though Mom was always there, a voice in her head, a whisper that never faded and always promised more, it hadn’t been the same.
Now Mom was in front of her, no longer like a dream. She had proof of her faith, holding her hand. Hazel was warm and happy. Alive. More than she’d been in a long half year.
Her soul had ached, now it didn’t.
Hudson stared up at their mother with an even brighter wonder. For Hazel, Mom was affirmation, for Hudson, surprise or revelation. He thought she’d abandoned them, or was dead. This third thing was never considered, because to him it was impossible.
As Savannah stepped from the house, Hudson fell back, shaking his head.
“Are you all ghosts?”
Mom smiled, like when Hazel had asked her the same thing. She said, “No, Hudson. I’m not.”
“What are you then?”
Mom looked thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain, but I’ll try.”
“Wait!” Hudson held up his hand. “I don’t want to know if you’re a ghost. I want to know if you’re really my mom.”
“Hudson!” Dad suddenly yelled from somewhere far, far away. “Hazel!”
Hudson looked startled. “What is that?”
“Dad!” Hazel answered.
“Where is it coming from?” Hudson asked, looking confused.
It sounded like a scream from underwater — though it must have been coming from the other end of the street and the shimmering red Threshold.
Mom stepped in front of them, then went to the middle of the road and reached out to grab what looked like empty space, tugging a handful of air tightly enough in each fist for Hazel to see the ripple. She widened her arms’ arc and drew them back toward her head.
The Threshold was suddenly a few feet in front of them. The space between it had packed together like an accordion, then melted into a swirling crimson swath of nothing. She released her hands, then grabbed another two fistfuls and stretched them apart. Hazel could see into the cellar — Dad and Great-Uncle Alastair approaching the Threshold.
Hazel wanted to call out for her father again, but was scared to also attract Alastair.
“Are they really that close?” Hudson asked.
“Close enough,” Mom said. “We must run.”
“Why would we run? That’s Dad! Can’t he come over?”
“No, Hudson. It isn’t your father we’re running from. It’s Alastair. If he finds us, he will kill us all.”
Hudson asked, “Why? Why would Great-Uncle Alastair want to kill us?”
“Come with me,” Savannah said from behind, “to the Dark Manor.” She turned and pointed toward the foggy patch just up the mountain beyond the Threshold.
&nbs
p; Before anyone answered, Savannah pinched the air and brought the house a few feet away, landing them at the false castle’s front door.
Mom opened the door and stepped through.
Hazel and Hudson followed.
Savannah came last, then closed the door behind her.
* * * *
SCOTT
The moment he saw his wife and children in the green light at the end of the cellar, Scott tried to race toward them.
Carter grabbed him, stopping him.
“Let me go!” Scott tried to shrug him off, but failed.
How the hell is he so strong?
Carter yelled, “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
“Let me go!”
With an overwhelming force, Carter shoved him toward the fountain. Scott turned to the bubbling water, then saw, and smelled, that it wasn’t water, but rather blood.
He turned to Carter. “What the hell?”
“Yes, Mr. Dawson. As I have said, there is much to discuss.”
Scott ignored Carter and made another break for the light, making it one step before the old man reached out, grabbed him, and threw Scott hard to the floor.
“You will wait!” Carter thundered. “Go now and die. Do you presume to know better than me, Mr. Dawson? I have spent a lifetime around a scent that you are now inhaling but for the first time. Do you understand?”
“No! No, I don’t understand. I have no idea what any of this means. What is this place? Why is there a fountain of fucking blood? What is … that?”
Scott pointed at a heaven’s worth of light, oozing from the rectangular shape in the wall — somehow also an open window to a cobblestone road trailing down to two rows of houses. Though he’d seen his wife and children just moments ago, they were no longer in view. Instead, he saw many shapes, too long to be anything human, in the way and staring back.
“Why can’t I go there? I saw them there.” His voice climbed higher, “Holly is there!”
“Of course, you saw them. We will go through the Threshold, but we must wait. If we step through now, we will die.”
“Why can they go but I can’t?”
“Because they were invited, Mr. Dawson.”
“Invited by whom? Are you going to tell me what in the hell is happening?”
“This,” Carter waved a hand at the light, “is the Threshold, or a portal if you will. On the other side of the Threshold there are things waiting to infiltrate our world.”
“Infiltrate our world? What are you talking about?”
It wasn’t funny, the old man messing with him.
“There are creatures over there.” Again, Carter pointed to the light. “Those things in the road, they are waiting to return here. I do not know how many there are — there might be millions — and they are far stronger than us. If they come through the Threshold, all is lost. Humanity will be annihilated.”
“If you’re messing with me, I’m going to kill you, Carter!”
Carter gave Scott a cracker-thin smile. “No. I am not messing with you, Mr. Dawson. And please, let us end the pretense. I am not Carter. Carter is a good man who died earlier this year. It was easy to become him, because you all had not yet met me.”
Scott felt like someone had knocked the air out of him.
“Who are you?”
“I am Alastair Galloway, Lord of Galloway Manor.”
Scott stared as pieces clicked into place, not yet making sense, but at least on their way.
“Go on then, Alastair.”
“In the late seventeen hundreds, James Cook explored the Oregon Coast. A man on his expedition, Montgomery Galloway, never left. He and a man named Étienne Lussier became the first European farmers in the state. Lussier and Montgomery parted ways almost immediately, and Montgomery settled here in what became Clovis Point. He said he was drawn to this place, though it didn’t seem any more fertile than other, flatter lands. Surveyors on his team advised against it. But Montgomery insisted that Clovis Point was special. He said he felt an energy here. The energy he felt, Montgomery soon discovered, came from a small tribe of aliens living in the hills a few miles from their settlement.”
The story sounded impossible, but so did the Threshold staring Scott in the face.
“These creatures looked like people, but different. They were tall, with pointed ears, delicate features, and long raven hair. They called themselves the Umlai. They knew many things that the settlers did not, and helped them to prosper. In exchange, the settlers said nothing of the Umlai’s presence, keeping their existence a secret from people who might otherwise harm or exploit them.”
Alastair gestured toward the Threshold’s glow.
“Turns out, the Umlai lived near a portal linking other worlds. They were colonists, not too different from Montgomery and the settlers. They were here on Earth, testing the land, and seeing what it was like to live alongside humans. Apparently, there are only so many species with compatible DNA. The Umlai were looking for a suitable planet, and a harmonious species to breed with.”
“This is all … true?”
“Yes, Scott. Every word. And we have yet to reach the good part.”
Scott looked from the Threshold to the Lord of Galloway Manor.
“All the settlers had to do was keep the Umlai a secret. In exchange, their crops were perfect, and life was easy. Well, relatively so. Unfortunately, this was an alien ruse designed to earn the settlers’ trust. Humans far outnumbered the Umlai, and had they not been so relaxed, what eventually happened never would have.”
“What happened?”
“One night, when the settlers were sleeping soundly in their village, Umlai warriors crept into town like thieves and massacred nearly every man, woman, and child.”
Scott didn’t — couldn’t — believe it, but said, “Oh my God” anyway.
Alastair erupted into a coughing fit, his face turning red and eyes bulging. For a moment, Scott was sure the man was going to die.
Then he settled down and continued, “There was no God with the settlers that night, Mr. Dawson. The entire town, save for a few fortunate souls, were murdered by these things. The massacre lasted only moments. There were blurs and screams, then nothing. One survivor managed to strike back, reaching the Umlai camp. He killed many of the aliens, and sealed the Threshold. This,” Alastair pointed to the portal, “was the center of the Umlai camp. Now, the Umlai patiently await their return, biding time for the moment when the barrier’s thin enough to permit their crossing. The only way to keep the portal closed is with blood magic from a Galloway.”
“A Galloway,” Scott repeated.
That’s why the children can’t leave.
“Yes. A Galloway must shed his blood into the fountain each day to keep the portal closed, to bar the monsters in The Hold. My father is the man who defeated them, who pushed them back and sealed the portal. It has been my blood keeping the aliens at bay all these years. It’s both the Galloway blessing and curse.”
“Are you saying that Hudson and Hazel will have to … shed their blood?”
“Yes.”
Scott’s fist flew toward Alastair’s face, but the old man caught it halfway, then gently lowered it to Scott’s side, shaking his head in admonishment. “I am trying to help you, and really, I am your only hope. We can discuss the rest of this later. I will assume in the meantime you would like to get your children back?”
“Yes.” Scott swallowed his rage. “How do we do that?”
“It will not be easy.” Alastair didn’t look nervous, exactly (Scott wasn’t sure if he was capable of that particular expression), but the old man did look unsettled. Alastair looked toward the fountain. “I am not strong enough to do what must be done. I will require your help.”
“My help doing what?”
“You must guard the Threshold while I go over and try to negotiate to get your children back.”
Scott stared at the Threshold’s shimmering colors. “What if the negotiation fails?”
> “Then I’ll kill every last one of them.”
Scott looked the old man up and down. Yes, he had just thrown Scott across the lawn, so he was obviously stronger than he appeared, but defeating God knew how many of the creatures? Was it even possible?
“And if you fail?”
“Then you kill anyone who tries to cross over.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan? What about my kids?”
“I will retrieve your children, Scott. You have my word. Now, can you do what I asked? Can you guard the Threshold?”
Scott nodded.
“This may require you to kill?” Alastair rested a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “Can you kill a man, Scott?”
He was surprised by the speed of his reply. “If they try to come between me and my family, then yes, I can kill a man.”
“You have to be careful. Your eyes are now liars.”
“What?” Scott asked, sick of the riddle-speak.
“The Umlai can change shape, they can look like anyone. They can look and sound just like your loved ones and use your memories as weapons against you. Like they tried to do to me, like they’ve been doing with your daughter.”
“So you’re saying Holly isn’t really there? That Hazel’s been seeing one of these … things?”
“Precisely.”
“Wait, I thought you said they were stuck over there. How can they be messing with Hazel if they can’t cross the Threshold?”
“The Umlai’s true forms are stuck on their side of the Threshold, in the The Hold. But they are able to project a part of themselves in the forms of people close to us. But they can’t physically cross over unless they somehow breach the Threshold or if the blood magic that runs through the fountain fails, but they can possess a soul if they’re weak enough. Can get into their head and make them … do things.”
The way Alastair said “do things,” Scott could tell he spoke from experience.
Savannah!
