Evil Heights, Book IV: In the Pit

by Michael Swanson

  Lee jumped he was so startled. The Indian was looking at him again, now from within the photograph. If he watched the picture, the image stayed still. If he blinked for a moment, everything changed.

  Frantically, Lee looked back to the T.V. just in time to see the huge Indian emerge from the tee-pee with another child, pick her up, and bite her viciously in the throat. There was no sound, but he could hear the choked off scream. Her little girl's arms and legs thrashed wildly; all the while he only bit deeper.

  Lee looked back at the photograph. It had changed. All the people were dead, slaughtered and lying on the ground. The white flesh of the women was starkly naked, ripped, and bloody. Flickering like an old stereoscope at a Nickelodeon, the photograph flash by flash came to life. The Indian, who'd mounted his grandmother's corpse, was pumping at her. Frame by frame, in black and white, he finished and stood up off of her, and gave Lee a hideously self-satisfied grin. And though there was no sound, Lee could hear the echo of the laugh. It taunted him, tittering and teasing, with the same arrogance of a bully who wants to make sure you know how much he enjoys it all.

  And there was that presence again. Exactly what he'd felt before. It was inside, all around. He looked over, his attention, once again caught by and drawn to movement. Patty was just reaching up to hang up the phone, her face to the wall, oblivious. He looked back at the T.V. The Indian had dropped the girl and was pulling her bloody dress off her body. Other figures began to appear, men in ragged clothes, their faces hungry and unshaven. They stood about the Indian, watching hungrily and waiting their turn.

  Lee reacted, intent on pulling the television plug from the wall. He ran around and dove for the cord, grabbing it, just as the lights went dark around the room, popping off one by one.

  "Lee!” Patty screamed, her feet lifting clean off the floor. “Leeeeee!"

  Scrabbling, the rug skidding out from under his knees and hands, he fought his way over to the wall, grabbing Patty, and crushing her to him.

  The power of the presence was overwhelming. It's sheer force as oppressive and smothering as the rancid smell.

  "No!” he screamed, determined to die before he'd ever let go. “She's my sister!"

  It didn't take her. It stopped, letting her down and drawing away. He could feel it pull back. The crazy laughter raced around the room, coming at the two kids from every direction. Faster and faster the tittering and squealing circled. It became a whirlpool of noise seeming to laugh back at itself, enjoying its own hysteria.

  Patty was shrieking, adding her own shrill scream to the din. “Oh Lee, make it stop!"

  The dirty men, in their vagrants’ clothing were now standing in the front window looking in.

  A tremendous voice roared out, coming from the air in the exact center of the room. “I want what's mine!” it boomed. “Do you hear, whelp? Give it back!"

  It was at a fever pitch in the room. More and more faces were pressing into the window, one on top of the other, all their eyes aglow. The laughing had grown to a cackling cry, swirling and echoing off the walls. The men in the photograph had removed their pants and were falling about on the dead women on the front lawn.

  Lee drew Patty into him, covering her with his arms. She was screaming and screaming and screaming.

  It all stopped. It stopped so suddenly, it was as though something had snapped.

  Lee shivered, a nervous burst tingling his fingers to his toes.

  "Hush!” he yelled to Patty. “Hush! Can't you feel? It's gone."

  The room was dark except for the light from the porch coming through the front window.

  Patty began to settle down, but even though her crying stopped, she continued to shake. Finally she managed to stammer, “Lee we've gotta go."

  Lee grimaced. “Go where?"

  "I don't want to stay here.” Patty's teeth were chattering. “I don't like it here."

  "There's nowhere to go,” Lee came back.

  He tried to get her to let go of him as her arms were locked around his waist, but she clung to him desperately.

  Brushing back the hair from her face he said softly, “I've got to go change some of the light bulbs. It's over for now. Can't you feel it? It's gone."

  It took a while longer before the terrified girl would let go. Even then, she stayed with her brother, following him from lamp to lamp, until the room was relit.

  Lee thought about it, trying to understand. He remembered Porter saying that it was bound by its own set of rules. That must be why it kept coming and going. He knew he hadn't won; the strength of his will hadn't phased it at all. It just wasn't done enjoying scaring him yet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: RIDLEY

  In the morning Lee woke up with Patty snuggled up against him in his bed. She had stayed glued to him the rest of the evening. She had been so insistent and so upset, Lee had even stayed in the bathroom and turned his back while she went potty.

  In the daylight, if it hadn't been for the lingering knowledge of the truth, it'd have all seemed so ridiculous as this time it had all happened so fast.

  Lee sat up, the bed thoroughly sweated down. He looked over at the desk, vowing that the first opportunity, he was going to throw that damn eye in the river, exactly as Porter had told him to.

  "Come on, Squirt.” Lee rousted his sleeping sister. “Let's go get some breakfast."

  They walked down the hall, holding hands. He hazarded a glance at the picture, but it was back to normal, all the dead people, looking out and smiling, as they had when the shutter had snapped twenty-five years ago. If there was an Indian hiding in the shadows still, he was doing a pretty good job.

  Lee was almost done with his second bowl of cereal when the Fairlane pulled in. Patty met their dad at the door and threw herself into him the moment he stepped inside.

  She had her face pressed in his crotch, so he looked questioningly at Lee.

  "We had another nightmare last night,” Lee said bluntly.

  Ted obviously didn't pick up on the “We.” He peeled Patty away and walked over as she hung onto his belt. He'd picked up the newspaper off the drive coming in and threw it down on the table. Getting Patty back into her seat, before her bowl of corn flakes, he then fell down into the chair across from Lee.

  "I'm going to have to call in to work in a minute. I can't go in.” He looked around vaguely, as though he didn't know where he was. “What time is it anyway?"

  Lee looked at the clock. “Almost eight, Dad. How's Maggie?"

  Ted ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, obviously not the first time he'd done that in the last twelve hours. “I've never seen anything bleed like that, not even in Korea. I've seen guys with gut wounds who'd been ripped apart by shrapnel, and they didn't bleed like that.” He ran his fingers through his hair again. “Jesus!"

  "Is Mamma dead?” Patty asked her spoon stopped almost to her mouth.

  "No baby,” Ted smiled tiredly. “The doctors sewed up the cut and gave Mamma a transfusion of new blood. “She'll be coming home tomorrow."

  Patty's face lit up, and she shoveled in the spoon.

  Lee stood up, picking up his bowl and catching a glimpse of the Journal's headline. Tropical storm Carla had turned into a full-fledged hurricane and was heading north towards the Gulf Coast. “At least it's not another dead girl,” he thought thankfully.

  "Hey, Dad, you want me to get you a bowl of cereal?"

  Ted peeled himself up out of the chair. “Yeah, thanks.” He slapped Lee on the shoulder as he walked by. “I'm gonna call work."

  "There was some of Momma's blood on the sofa,” Patty blurted out, but added quickly, “It's not Lee's fault."

  Ted picked up the receiver and hold it with his chin while he dialed. “I know, baby."

  Lee cleaned up, while his dad took a little nap. Just before noon they all went to the hospital, but as Maggie was still sleeping, it was almost five before they got to go in and see her. She looked pale and had a huge bandage on her hand, but other than that, she seemed alrig
ht. Lee sat quietly on the ugly, green plastic chair and was happy that he wasn't really noticed. Patty though was the center of attention for everyone, especially the nurses. When visiting hours were over at seven, Lee was relieved to file out, holding Patty's hand. Maggie hadn't said anything more to him than answer his “Hello” and “Goodnight.” He figured, maybe that was a good thing.

  The following morning, Tuesday, July 12th, Ted left early to fetch Maggie home, before going to work. Once home, they'd set her up, regally in the right-hand recliner. Patty was almost bouncing off the walls she was so elated to have her mother back. She brought Maggie a pillow for her feet and vowed to be her personal slave until Momma was all better.

  Maggie really seemed to enjoy all the doting and special attention. She didn't even get angry when they tried to turn on the television and found it was still unplugged.

  Lee hadn't forgotten about what Porter had told him to do. It'd been too late Sunday to get rid of it, and yesterday they'd been at the hospital most of the time. Lee decided at first chance, he was going to throw that damn eye into the river before it caused any more trouble. If Limpkins wanted it, he could look for it there.

  He had it safely in his pocket and was at the door when Ted, who'd left the car's door open and the motor running, came running back up the steps.

  "Here, I'd forgotten.” He held the spearhead out to Lee. “I had it in the glove compartment. Go put it away, and don't let Maggie see it. She thinks I threw it away."

  "Thanks, Dad.” Lee took it, once again surprised by the weight. He went back in and put it in his special drawer. Placing it right where he'd just plucked out Limpkin's eye.

  Lee went to the front door and yelled out once he'd passed outside, “I'm outta here!"

  Maggie had Patty sitting on her lap. They were watching a game show, and neither one paid him any attention.

  Lee ran down the steps and out into the road. The huge Magnolia out front was especially heady, as many of the big white blooms had started to curl in and yellow around the edges. He looked over at the Riley house looking as sorrowful as ever. The house had suffered from a definite lean before, but now it appeared to actually slouch. “One good wind,” he thought, “And that place is gone."

  Lee, resolute in his plan to get rid of the eye, had to decide which way to go, but really, it didn't take much to choose, as the shortest route to the river was straight across the Ballard estate.

  The grass between the trees was sparse yet high. Blondie would need to come again soon, as it seemed the heavy rains of a week ago had put all the plants into high gear.

  As Lee walked the angled morning shadows drawn from the lopped limbs crisscrossed crazily across the ground hinting at some kind of pattern. He remembered the apple trees from the Wizard of Oz, how they had come to life and thrown apples at Dorothy and the Scarecrow. “These might come to life,” he thought, passing by one that leaned staggeringly, “But it'd be pretty tuff to throw anything without any arms."

  Lee was impatient, without even thinking about it, but aware of the feel of the eye in his pocket, he began to jog quickly, swinging his arms in rhythm as he went. He thought about running, just for the fun of running, but the heaviness of this place slowed him down, in the same way he'd never think of running down the aisle in church.

  The house loomed off to his left, not looking any different than it had a month ago, or probably a hundred years ago for that matter. The white curtains cloistered the windows, and the red brick with its sprinkling of white and black, looked stout and secure as ready to keep things in as to keep things out.

  Lee came around keeping close to the house, cutting around the west corner. He saw the window he and Phoebe had looked into, and had a momentary flash of curiosity about maybe looking in once again. But like some kind of a sixth sense he didn't feeling uneasy about what he might see. And as he came loping around into the back grounds he'd already thought about what he'd say in the off chance that he was confronted by someone. He could easily argue he wasn't trespassing. After all, he felt he almost had an obligation to check up on his roses.

  Coming around to the back, Lee was stunned by the change. Covering the trellis, along the length of the entire back porch, from the eaves to the earth, was a tapestry of lush, red roses. The smell was so sharply rich and sweet it reminded him of the ladies’ perfume counter at Patterson's department store.

  Golden brown humming birds flitted about, drawing into the flowers and backing out, competing with buzzing, yellow, and black bumblebees. There just was no comparison to the thatch of withered brambles he'd struggled with back in June. Even the bushes, which had stood alone out in the yard had blossomed, some yellow, others white, and even a few with fat, pink blooms.

  The first thought that came into his mind after the initial shock, was that it certainly was a shame that Mrs. Ballard didn't get to see this.

  Lee was so entranced he wandered about for a time, just taking it in, even stopping at one unbelievable bush which was draped with green buds and pink flowers. He cupped one bloom between his fingers gently, and pulled it to his nose and inhaled. The fragrance was even sweeter close up. Immediately though, he drew back and looked around, glad that Ronnie or one of the guys hadn't been around to see him, and reminding himself that really only girls took time to smell the flowers.

  Distracting from the abundance of life and color was the stoic little house just to the side of the stone footpath. Just looking at it ruined the charm of the roses, and left him feeling as he did whenever he was called to the principal's office. The reality of it sitting out there in the open brought him back to why he had come. Letting the flower go, he walked resolutely down the path, heading straight for the river.

  The front door was ajar; he noticed it right off. Whether Mrs. Ballard had been inside or not, he'd never seen it open before. He slowed as he came closer, silence and utter stillness creeping out from the inside, spilling out like the frost from the ice cream man's freezer on a hot and humid day. As though drawn to it, his feet strayed off the path, and he found himself with his hand on the knob. And it seemed he was as if in a trance when the door swung easily, with only a slight squeak from the hinges.

  Lee stood just outside looking in. As he had always imagined, it smelled different than the air outside, hot, stale, and musty, more like dry and dusty cardboard than anything he could put his finger on. There was the card table and single folding chair, just sitting out empty and waiting, the chair slightly askew. It was so still inside, so utterly quiet he felt more like he was looking at a painting than standing in the doorway of a real room.

  The door that supposedly led down to the bomb shelter appeared firmly shut. But there was no resisting it, as Lee stepped all the way inside. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end when he crossed the threshold and he knew he was actually inside. Detail flooded his consciousness: The joining of the baseboards in the corners, the pattern of the spackling of the walls, the scalloped glass fixture hiding the single light bulb, the tightly joined checkerboard of black and white squares of the floor. But nothing so startled him as looking out from the windows, out to the real world outside. Through the watery panes, the grass, trees and flowers appeared as distant and unreal as they must to a condemned man peering out from the window of his cell.

  And possibly because of the intense heat, exactly like the interior of a car shut up in he full blast of the summer sun, Lee was conscious of the eye in the pocket of his jeans; it felt as cold as though he had a piece of dry ice in his pants. It was so cold it almost burned.

  Lee looked away from the window and took the next step, putting his hand on the knob. Here on the floor from the bottom of the door, were muddy, red footprints leading in and out. Someone had been in there since the last rain.

  Lee twisted the knob, but it was locked. And suddenly, he realized he'd been holding his breath the whole time. The silence was so oppressive he could hear his own heart beating through his ears.

  For good measure,
Lee twisted the knob again, but it was really locked. With a dry swallow and goose bumps standing on his arms he turned, almost ready to jump out the door before the feeling of being in a trap overwhelmed him. In the corner behind the front door was a splash or red color, a ribbon fashioned into a bow, the kind the girls wear sometimes in school. Like himself, it didn't seem to belong at all in this room. Lee bent to pick it up.

  The door swung open hitting Lee's outstretched arm. Ridley Ballard was blocking the doorway, his right hand pressing on the door and his left bracing across the doorframe.

  His was not a calm face.

  A number of options ran instantaneously through Lee's mind. Rather than attempt to run, he chose to stand his ground.

  "Who the hell are you?” the man growled, the tinny voice from the funeral gone. But Ridley didn't wait for an answer. “What are you doing on my property? What are you doing in my house?"

  Lee couldn't take it any longer; the eye was freezing, almost burning into his thigh. Reflexively he reached into his pocket, the frosty thing sticking to his fingers.

  "I wasn't—” was all Lee got out when Ridley stepped forward and hit Lee in the face.

  Lee staggered back, slamming into the door behind, the eye flying from his hand. Ridley, jumped forward, grabbing Lee by the throat. “I'll show you what I do to trespassers."

  Lee had seen stars when the unexpected right caught him square in the eye. Now there was no mistaking the intent of the hands at his throat. The man had his thumbs on Lee's windpipe and was attempting to crush Lee's throat while battering Lee's head against the door.

  Ted had showed Lee one other self-defense technique he'd never used. It was only for emergencies. Lee didn't need to think about it now; it came to him. He reacted, bringing his knee up as hard as he could, driving it up squarely between Ridley's legs.

  The impact forced Ridley to blow out a blast of breath, and instantly his fingers let go. Still though, he didn't go down, but was bent over. Lee attempted to shove his way past to the door, but Ridley landed an arcing left, catching Lee sharply on the side of the head and ringing his ear.