Winter Wake

by Rick Hautala

  Bri’s disappointment registered on her face, but she obviously knew it wouldn’t pay to argue. Taking a deep breath and letting her shoulders droop, she said, “I’ve gotta admit, this has been one of the funnest Halloweens I’ve ever had.”

  Julia smiled and shook her head. “‘Funnest? Did you actually say ‘funnest?’

  Bri nodded, a smile flickering at the corners of her mouth.

  “I’m going to have a talk with your English teacher.”

  “Okay, the most fun I’ve ever had,” Bri said, waving her mother away as she reached out in an attempt to tickle her. “This has been absitively, posolutely the bestest night of my life. Satisfied?”

  “Much better,” Julia said, bursting out with laugher. “Your command of the English language is surpassed only by your natural grace and charm.” She jabbed her forefinger into the crook of Bri’s neck and wiggled it until she squirmed away.

  Chuckling even while she knew it was to hide her own disappointment, Bri forced a yawn. “I think I’ll wash up and go to bed early. Maybe read a little before I crash.”

  “It’s only” — Julia glanced at the clock over the refrigerator —”a little past eight. Come on. Stay up and keep me company. We can play a game or something.”

  “I don’t think so,” Bri said as she started moving slowly out of the kitchen toward the hallway stairs.

  “Maybe there’s a good movie on TV,” Julia said. “One of the local stations has got to be showing Night of the Living Dead.”

  “Honest, Mom. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and I wanna chill out. See you in the morning.”

  Julia suspected that Bri was heading to bed so early because of her disappointment about missing trick-or-treating, and she wished she could make it up to her somehow, but she also knew that she couldn’t — it was going to be up to Bri to make her own friends.

  “G’night, then,” Julia said, giving her a little wave. She stood in the kitchen, listening to Bri’s footsteps as she trudged up the stairs,

  II

  Lying in bed, her attention barely on the words dragging by her eyes, Bri listened to the sounds of kids whooping it up in the street. Laughs and screams and hollers echoed in the still night, repeatedly drawing her eyes to the blank rectangle of the window. Several times she turned off her reading light and got out of bed. Crouching by the window, she looked out at the pale quarter moon riding low in the sky. She found herself disappointed that it wasn’t a fat-belly full moon casting long, blue shadows beneath the parade of figures in the street.

  But the moon wasn’t the only thing that disappointed her. She missed her friends back home and was practically in tears that she couldn’t go out tonight and whoop it up with them. She wondered if, right now in Shelburne Falls, Lisa and Veronica and Debbie and all the others were cruising the streets.

  “Damned foolish holiday, anyway,” she whispered as she went back to bed and slipped under the sheets.

  The book she was reading — Anne of Avonlea — lay facedown on her pillow, open to the page she hadn’t been able to concentrate on. Sometime after eleven o’clock — an hour or so after her father and grandfather came home — she turned off the light and snuggled down under the covers. Sleep, though — like reading — didn’t hold her, and she lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

  What brought her to full attention was a low, steady throbbing sound that seemed to be as much a part of the night as the darkness. Once she noticed it, she couldn’t say for sure when it had started. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked at her window where the shadows of branches, thrown by the streetlight, danced like stiff-jointed skeletons on her windowsill. The sound stopped, and her room was hushed.

  Leave it to me to freak myself out on Halloween night, she thought.

  Confused as to what the sound had been, she closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to pull back the memory of it. She wasn’t sure if it had been real or in her imagination, but she held her breath and didn’t move for a long time as she waited for the sound to be repeated.

  Tension coiled inside her, and when the sound came again, it caught her by surprise. The only sound she could make was a strangled click in her throat. She was wide awake. She knew she was. And drifting out of the darkness, winding and twining with a soft, subtle whisper, were the soft strains of organ music.

  Bri wanted to leap out of her bed and run to her mother, but like a child whose imagination has convinced her that there are alligators — or worse under her bed, she didn’t dare bring her feet out from under the covers. Her heart was hammering a tinny drumbeat in her neck as her eyes darted around the room, trying to find from which direction the music was coming.

  It seemed to be coming from every direction.

  The notes blended, swelling and throbbing with pulsating power that, Bri sensed, was being held in check. The tune — yes! There was a definite tune seemed familiar, but Bri couldn’t quite place it other than that it was definitely a religious hymn.

  “Church wood,” she whispered, her throat raw and dry. She wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken out loud.

  As soon as she realized she was hearing the church wood, she felt the walls and floor of her bedroom vibrate, resonating with the deep sound of the organ. The vibration worked its way into her bones, making her entire body tingle. If she dared to get out of bed and look at herself in the mirror, she was sure she would see that her face was glowing with an eerie blue light.

  This has got to be a dream, she thought desperately. But it can’t be … I’m wide awake … I know I am …

  Remembering a trick someone had once told her about how to tell if you’re dreaming or not, she held her hand up in front of her face and stared at it.

  Yes … That’s my hand …

  Slowly she flexed her fingers, never letting her concentration waver from her hand — This isn’t a dream! — and still the soft organ music throbbed in the darkness like a living presence in the darkness. The more she concentrated on it, the more it seemed to fade, until it was at the very border of her hearing.

  The rawness in her throat got worse, and Bri realized she was breathing too fast, sucking in quick, dry gulps of air through her mouth. It took all the mental effort she could muster to inhale slowly through her nose, but no matter how hard she tried to calm herself down, her nerve endings were stripped raw as the organ music rose and fell like the heavy surge of the ocean.

  “No … “ she said, moaning softly as her eyes darted around the darkened bedroom, trying to find the source of the receding sound. Like a will-a’-the-wisp, it shifted every time she thought she was about to hone in on it. First it would come from the corner by the window, and then, as soon as she looked in that direction, it would shift over to her bureau. When she looked there, it would echo from inside the closet.

  She wanted to cry out for her mother to come to her room, but no matter how hard she tried to calm her nerves, whenever she thought she might have enough air in her lungs to shout, she couldn’t make a sound. The dry lining of her throat felt like it was on fire.

  Suddenly a sound hit her ears as loud as the snap of a rifle.

  It wasn’t much ... a quick pop that drew her attention away from the organ music now softly filtering into her room from behind the headboard, The new sound was so sharp and sudden, Bri thought for an instant that it had been inside her head.

  Maybe I’m so scared I popped a blood vessel, she thought, her fear mounting even higher.

  But the sound came again, and this time she identified where it had come from, if not the sound itself.

  Something had hit the window glass.

  With a sudden flurry of motion, Bri threw aside her bed covers and jumped out of bed. The organ music stopped the instant her feet hit the hardwood floor. She tiptoed over to the window in a few long strides.

  It felt like she was breathing dust as she crouched on the floor and looked out into the night. The moon had set, so the only illumination was from the weak glow of the streetl
ight. Low-hanging mist swirled and eddied between the trees and crept up onto the edge of the road. Everything was hushed. The night sky looked like fuzzy, dark velvet.

  And then another snap hit the window right in front of her face.

  Bri jumped back with a startled yelp that tightened her throat. Instantly she realized what was going on. Someone was out there, tossing pebbles against the glass to scare me.

  Slowly she eased herself up to the window again. Hands gripping the sill, she looked out to see where the person was hiding,

  They could be across the street … or behind the maple trees, but more than likely, they were pressed up against the side of the house, out of sight until they darted out and tossed another pebble at her bedroom window.

  An element of calm returned to her as she sat on the floor, thinking what to do next.

  The organ music ...

  Well, that had to have been part of a dream.

  Even though she didn’t feel as though she had fallen asleep, she must have drifted off, and — this being Halloween night — she had let what her granddad had told her about the “church wood” invade her sleep.

  That was clear enough.

  But what about the — ?

  Another click on the glass made her jump again. She leaned forward quickly, hoping to catch the pebble thrower before he darted back to cover. Reaching up to the window lock, she snapped it open, planning to run it up before the culprit threw another pebble.

  Try as she might, though, she couldn’t get the window to budge.

  She stood up and made sure it was unlocked, not locked.

  The catch was open. Last weekend, before the weather got too cold, she’d had the window open to air out the room, so she knew it worked.

  Why won’t it open now?

  She pushed up as hard as she could. It was while she was struggling to raise the window that she glanced down and saw a solitary figure standing by the side of the house.

  She knew right away who it was

  Audrey had her head tilted back and was staring up at her bedroom window, her pale face floating in the darkness below as though she were looking up from the bottom of a deep, dark well.

  “What in the heck?” she whispered.

  She knew Audrey couldn’t hear her, not with the window closed, so she redoubled her efforts to get it open. Crouching, her knees locked, she pushed as hard as she could against the sash until — finally — it slid up. A cold wash of night air swept over her, raising goose bumps on her arms as she stuck her head out the window and peered down. A fitful gust of wind blew into her face, lifting her hair.

  “For crying out loud, Audrey! What are you doing out here?”

  She had no idea what time it was, but the moon was down and the street was silent. No hint of the coming dawn brightened the black vault of sky.

  Audrey didn’t say a word, but she kept staring up at Bri. It looked as though she had been out trick-or-treating. Her face had a glowing, white cast as if she hadn’t yet washed off her face makeup. In the feeble glow from the streetlight, Bri saw the heavy, dark lines beneath Audrey’s eyes. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing.

  ‘‘What do you want?” Bri whispered, hoping not to wake up her parents.

  Audrey shook her head from side to side and raised a hand in a beckoning gesture. Bri knew she wanted her to come outside, but the gesture — the same one she had made that day in the woods — sent a shiver up her spine.

  “No — I can’t come down.” She shook her head. “It’s too late. You should be home.”

  Audrey remained silent as she waved her hand slowly up and down. Her eyes never blinked, and her cold stare worked its way into Bri’s heart.

  Suddenly, she was sure she knew what was going on, and she didn’t like it.

  Audrey wasn’t any different from any of the other kids on the island. She had no interest in being her friend, and she was pulling this spooky stunt merely to freak her out.

  “Look, Audrey, I —” Bri started to say, but to her ears, her voice sounded distorted, as if she were speaking directly at a wall, and her words were bouncing back at her.

  “Come with me,” Audrey whispered, her voice faint, feathery. She still slowly beckoned to Bri with a waving hand as pale and polished as white marble.

  And as cold, Bri thought with a shiver.

  “Go home,” Bri said. “I’ll meet you on the point tomorrow.”

  At first, Audrey didn’t reply, but then she said softly, “Come with me ... now.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Bri hissed. “It’s almost —”

  She turned to glance at the clock by her bed, but it was facing away from her, and she couldn’t see the dial. Dashing to her bedstand, she grabbed the clock and saw that it was a few minutes before one in the morning. She went back to the window and, somehow, wasn’t surprised that Audrey was no longer there.

  She was left with the peculiar sensation that Audrey never had been there … that she had dreamed this … just as she had the church-wood organ music .. .and might still be dreaming.

  Rubbing her shoulders to warm up, she then slid the window down, all the while working to convince herself she had imagined everything. She was just getting back into bed when a heavy thump sounded downstairs as if something had hit the front door — hard.

  “Jesus,” Bri whispered under her breath as she leaped from bed and raced out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She moved as quietly as she could so she wouldn’t disturb her parents or grandfather. Through the sidelight window beside the front door, she saw the shadow of someone — Audrey! — on the front steps.

  Bri’s hand was shaking as she fumbled to open the lock and turn the doorknob. As the door swung open, a cold gust of wind swirled into the foyer, tearing through the thin fabric of Bri’s nightgown. Whatever she had been about to say was lost in a sharp intake of breath.

  The doorstep was empty.

  The wash of light from the streetlight carpeted the granite slab step.

  “What the — ?”

  Bri took an involuntary step backward, positive she had seen Audrey’s shape outside. Then, with a start, when she focused farther down the walkway, she did see Audrey. She was standing down by the road, under the maples.

  How did she get away from the door so fast? Bri wondered.

  With that thought, her suspicion became a conviction — Audrey, and probably several other kids — were teasing her, trying to scare her.

  “I know what you’re up to,” Bri called out to the solitary figure down by the road. She had to admit the effect was good — the soft yellow glow of the streetlight, the silently swirling ground mist, the fitful gusts of chilling wind … and Audrey’s face ... so pale … so ghostly.

  “Stop teasing me,” Bri whispered harshly. “It’s not funny.”

  Her lower lip was trembling, and she wanted to cry, but she wouldn’t give Audrey or anyone who might be with her the satisfaction.

  But Audrey, obviously, wasn’t going to stop — not yet, anyway.

  Again, she slowly motioned with her hand for Bri to come outside. Her voice carried on the wind from the darkness.

  “Come with me … I want to show you something.”

  “No way,” Bri shouted, unmindful now of waking up her parents. She took a few quick steps forward into the night, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’ve got to stop it! Stop teasing me!”

  Her eyes darted to each side of the front stairs, but she didn’t see anyone else hiding there, watching her. Her anger became a hot flush of blood coursing over her cheeks.

  “If you don’t go away and leave me alone, I’m going to tell my parents!” Bri yelled.

  Her voice echoed in the night with a muffled dullness. When she looked down by the roadside again, she was stunned into silence.

  Audrey was gone.

  Suddenly and silently, she simply wasn’t there.

  Bri shivered with the cold. Figuring Audrey, knowing the joke was played out, had ducked behind a tree,
she was turning to go back into the house when she sensed more than saw or heard someone moving beside the house to her left. Just as she turned to look, a face popped out of the darkness, stopping mere inches from her own face. A cold dash of panic hit her, nearly blinding her; and in that first frightening instant, she recognized Audrey’s pale face, eyes and mouth wide open … so close she could feel the chill of her skin.

  “I want you to tell him ... “ Audrey whispered, her lips moving with an odd disunity with her words. “I want you to tell your father something.”

  Bri was too frightened to ask what. It felt like thin, cold fingers were pressing in the sides of her throat, holding her motionless.

  “I want you to tell your father that you saw me tonight,” Audrey whispered. Her breath was cold on Bri’s ear.

  “I —” Bri started to say, but that was all that came out.

  “Tell him you were talking to … Abby.”

  The last word was long and drawn out. It reverberated in her ears like the echoing sound of church-wood music.

  With that last word, Audrey suddenly ducked back, dissolving into the night like a passing cloud.

  Bri gasped as she drew in a deep gulp of air and then forced it out as a long, wailing scream. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she was dimly aware that she was falling. She didn’t feel her knees slam into the hard stone step … She didn’t feel the cold stone as she fell face first onto the walkway. The next thing she was aware of was her mother and stepfather talking softly to her as they leaned over her and rubbed her face with a cold washcloth.

  III

  ‘‘I’m worried about her,” Julia said later in their own bedroom. It had taken her and John more than an hour, until well after two o’clock, to calm Bri down and get her settled back in bed. Knowing dawn was only a few hours away, Julia was half-tempted to stay awake and try to enjoy the peace and quiet before everyone got up for the day.

  “I —” John said, then paused and, lacing his hands behind his head, stared for a moment at the ceiling. “I think it was a harmless prank —”