Evil Heights, Book II: Monster in the House

by Michael Swanson

  Phoebe smiled a wry grin and nodded.

  They stood apart on the scraggly tufts of grass that made up the Riley front lawn and neither said a thing until it was to the point where someone had to say something.

  It was Phoebe broke the awkwardness. “So who's Mrs. Ballard?"

  Lee, immensely relived that someone had said something, turned and pointed straight out towards the trees. “She's this old lady that lives in the big ol’ haunted house behind those trees over yonder."

  "Haunted?” Phoebe seized on the word, and took a step closer, her eyes bright and alive.

  Lee took a reflexive step back, then immediately felt embarrassed. He couldn't figure out why he felt so addled around this girl. “Yeah,” he spoke up. “At least, that's what everybody says. Haven't you seen the cherry trees?"

  Phoebe nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gone wide with excitement. And letting her excitement show through it was as though she couldn't speak fast enough. “Yeah! Yeah! I did. It's horrible. I didn't even know they were cherry trees. I thought they were oaks or something. I noticed ‘em when we first drove in. It's about the weirdest and spookiest thing I ever did see. I wondered about the house. You can't hardly see nothing from the road, mostly just the roof. Does it look all spooky? Is it all creepy?"

  Lee shrugged. “Yeah, a little. I'm telling you, there's some weird stuff going on over there."

  She stepped in a little closer and whispered, “You seen any ghosts?"

  Lee almost launched into telling her about the other night. He'd even opened his mouth, but stopped short. “Uh, well.” He changed his mind. “Not yet. I mean, not me exactly. But lots of folks have seen stuff there.” In his mind though, he was recalling the daydream he'd envisioned behind that one window. The bodies and the steam rising up in the cold. He let his attention focus back on Phoebe. “We haven't lived here all that long,” he continued, matching her deep drawl. “This was my grandma's place. She died a while back and my folks and I just moved in. But I'm telling you everyone says Cherry Heights is haunted."

  "Really?” Phoebe whispered.

  She was close enough for Lee to count her freckles if he hadn't been so nervous. Lee nodded vigorously.

  Evie, realizing no one was paying her any attention, had stopped her crying, and unnoticed by the two, suddenly appeared from behind Phoebe. She thrust herself between them and stuck her snotty nose between Phoebe's legs, burying her face into Phoebe's crotch.

  It would be hard to say who was the most surprised, Phoebe or Lee.

  "Evie!” Phoebe yelped. She reached down peeling the toddler away, instantly flushing crimson, as embarrassed as she could be.

  There was a wet spot right in the center of Phoebe's red shorts. Lee tried not to stare, but he couldn't help it.

  Seeing where Lee's eyes were drawn Phoebe's snapped, “Evie!” Demonstrating quick thinking, she turned the child about covering the spot with her head and grinned back at Lee anxiously. “What a mess."

  Evie looked straight up and laughed. Obviously pleased to be the center of attention, she revealed one of her baby teeth on the top was black and two more on the bottom were green.

  Phoebe took a step back but kept Evie in front of her shorts. “I guess I'd better be going back inside."

  Lee stayed put, enjoying the situation immensely. It was strange, but now that Phoebe was obviously so embarrassed, he himself had settled down.

  Phoebe caught Evie's hands lifting her up slightly. The little girl responded by placing her bare feet atop Phoebe's white tennis shoes. Together, joined at the feet, the two waddled backwards to the front door.

  Once at the door Phoebe turned back to Lee. “If you're not workin’ all the time, maybe someday you could show me around a little. I'm gonna be stuck here all summer, and I don't know a soul ‘cept you."

  "Yeah, sure!” Lee fired back eagerly. “Actually, I finished up today."

  Phoebe pulled opened the screen door and pushed Evie in. Over the sound of the T.V. Lee could hear a baby just beginning to squall coming from somewhere inside.

  Phoebe pressed her back against the doorframe holding the screen door to her chest, half in and half out. “How ‘bout tomorrow?"

  A tired woman's voice from inside yelled, “Shut-up!"

  Lee waited.

  "Don't mind Aunt Darlene,” Phoebe said tiredly. “Baby's crying."

  Lee was so excited about the prospect of showing Phoebe around he almost said okay, but then remembered tomorrow was Friday and he'd be playing baseball tomorrow over at Art's field. “Sorry.” He gave her a truly conciliatory shake of the head. “I can't tomorrow. I'm playin’ baseball."

  She shrugged.

  "How ‘bout Saturday?” Lee offered quickly.

  "I guess I could get out of the house some in the afternoon,” she replied. “I expect Uncle Boyd should be home from work after lunch time. He normally only works half days on Saturday."

  "Okay! Great!” Lee almost jumped, but somehow managed to keep his excitement under control. “I'll come by after lunch."

  Phoebe had slid all the way in and was looking at him through the rusted screen. “I guess I'll see ya then.” She stopped, then peering back him slowly said his name, “Lee."

  Lee, so excited, didn't even notice her tone, just coming back with a delighted, “See ya Saturday!"

  CHAPTER FOUR: PAYBACK

  Lee ran back across the street, jumping up the steps to the porch. First thing he did when he came in was check the clock five after five. He fell back in the chair, skidding it back on the floor at least six inches.

  Patty was on the floor, splayed out on her tummy in front of the T.V. “Whatcha watchin’ squirt?"

  Patty turned and stuck out her tongue, then yelled, “Mom, Lee's callin’ me squirt!"

  He looked up to the clock. It read five after five. Just like at church when Reverend Hauser was droning on and on, and all Lee really wanted to do was to get it over with and go to Sunday lunch, it seemed time not only wouldn't hurry up, but that it actually slowed down or stopped completely.

  His dad finally pulled in the drive around ten thirty. Lee had almost driven Maggie out of her mind pestering her about when he'd get home and if she thought he'd been able to pick up the bike. Lee was sitting outside under the porch light with his back to the screen door, swatting at June bugs with an advertising circular when at last his dad pulled in.

  His heart sank when the car came into the porch light, and he didn't see the bike.

  His dad got out of the car. “What're you waiting on, son?"

  Lee jumped up. “Did you get my bike?"

  Hid dad slapped himself on the forehead. “Aww, I knew I forgot something."

  Lee's face dropped.

  Seeing his reaction his dad laughed. “Why don't we have a look in the trunk?"

  Lee had run down the steps and was waiting for him before he could put the key in the lock. Lifting up the lid, Lee first saw nothing but a blanket. Whipping it back, there it was, as red and shiny a thing as he'd ever seen.

  It was way too dark to go for a real first ride, so he peddled it around the driveway up and down. The headlight was great; it cast a wide beam which shone out at least twenty feet in front. And despite Maggie being against it, he even gave Patty a ride, letting her sit on the handlebars. Finally though, Maggie called him to come in. Bringing the bike inside, he put the kickstand down and got a towel from the kitchen, then wiped off the dust from the driveway and polished up the chrome and wiped off the plastic lens of the headlight.

  "Now you're not even thinking that you're going to be able to keep that thing inside?” Maggie, watching him, crossed her arms. “Bikes don't belong in the house."

  "How about just for tonight,” his dad broke in. “Come on, Maggie, give the boy a break.” He lifted from his shirt pocket the wad of five-dollar bills Lee had given him. “He worked for it. Bought and paid for with his own money."

  Maggie shook her head. “Okay, just for tonight. But tomorrow the t
hing goes out in the garage where it belongs."

  Around midnight, Ted had finally yelled down the hall for him to turn out the light in his room and go to bed. Despite Maggie's protest that “bikes don't belong in the house and certainly not in a bedroom,” Lee couldn't take his eyes off of it. It fit in just right in his room by the bed.

  The next morning, right after breakfast, Lee rolled the bike out of the front door. Being extra careful, standing between it and the screen door so as not to let it get scratched, he scooted it and himself outside.

  He took a moment to look it over in the bright sunlight before getting on.

  It was just too beautiful.

  The more he looked at it, the more he noticed things he hadn't appreciated before. The new whitewall tires still had fine nibs of rubber sticking up out of the tread. There was a round, red reflector mounted on the chromed rear fender, and the model name “Schwinn Jaguar” was printed in white letters on the shiny, red chain guard. As promised, the four D batteries were installed in the headlight compartment last night. Time and again, instead of falling to sleep, he had flicked on the switch at the top of the imitation gas tank and had projected light on his bedroom wall.

  Lee hooked the wrist strap of his baseball glove over the handlebar and lifted his leg over the frame. Carefully, he walked it down the porch steps. Then with pure satisfaction, he pushed down on the upward pedal and was away down the drive.

  He took the long route down Seminole instead of cutting through the path by the Riley's. When he got to the road barrier by Javier's house, where the path that crossed Spit Creek led down, he dismounted and carried the bike on his shoulder. Once back up on the other side he set it down on the rocky asphalt of Arbuckle Street and inspected the wheels and frame to make sure nothing had gotten dirty.

  Satisfied, he mounted again and stood up off the saddle, pumping the pedals as hard as he could. When he passed Sticker's house, it didn't make any difference if the mongrel was loose or not. By the time the dog could have gotten organized for a chase, Lee had passed by and was half way to the next block.

  He flew down Arbuckle, leaning in like a racer, as he turned left onto Crabbe. It was more direct to just go down Valentino, but then he'd have to cross over at the cul de sacs, which separated the east and west sides of the street within the subdivision. Besides, he wanted to take the longer route. It was four more blocks before he turned left off of Crabbe and onto Griffith, where the houses were larger, and the lots bigger the further he headed out from the center of the neighborhood.

  As he neared the northwest corner of Art's field, Lee could make out a group of boys standing under the shade of the big oak between Art's back patio and the garage. Only reducing his speed slightly to pass through the shallow ditch separating the field from the street, he steered a diagonal path directly towards the boys. Everyone was looking at him as he crossed the field.

  Lee pressed back hard on the coaster break, locking up the rear tire. He skidded across the grass, and at just the right moment he leaned the bike so that the rear tire swung out and stopped sideways with one foot down, right in front of the group of boys.

  His smile was tremendous. “Hey y'all!"

  Ronnie stepped forward. “Whoa! Will ya'll look at that?"

  "Damn Lee. Where'd ya get it?” Art came up, right on Ronnie's heels.

  "I bought it.” Lee unsuccessfully tried to reign in his smile. “I been working for old Lady Ballard."

  The boys all formed a circle around Lee and the bike.

  Half the group of boys was from the section of Pickford Acres north of Crabbe Street. Their leader was Jeff Mock, a tall kid with red hair and raw, bony elbows so big and knobby you'd think he'd had transplants from the knees of a giraffe.

  "So that's why you ain't been ‘round lately.” Jeff stood straight across from Lee standing with his legs spread in front of the front tire. “Ronnie said you was doin’ some gardenin'. But I figured you're mamma had probably sent you to vacation bible school for the summer."

  The Crabbe Street boys broke out into fits of hilarious laughter.

  Lee swung his leg over the bike to stand by the side, one hand on the seat and the other on the handlebars. The kids quit laughing.

  "You're the one who's gonna need bible school, Jeff, after the cussin’ you'll do when we whip y'all's butts.” Lee squared up, staring Jeff straight in the eye. “Y'all ain't got a prayer."

  Jeff was almost two years older than Lee and easily four inches taller. He had failed a grade early on, and because of his age and size he ruled the other boys at Lenoir Junior High.

  Lee and Jeff had been round and round more times than anyone could remember. During second through sixth grade, Jeff had easily come out on top, but never could get Lee to kiss his butt, like everyone else. It was at the beginning of fall semester, just last year that life for the boys in Pickford Acres changed.

  A pretty new girl, named Lisa Stroud, had moved into town over the summer. She was an early bloomer, and Jeff had a terrible crush on her. He was looking for any opportunity to show off for her, and to him, the best way to show off was to beat someone up.

  Saturday afternoons in the fall meant the matinee at the Carolina theatre downtown. There wasn't an adult in the whole town crazy enough to enter the place between eleven and five. Parents brought their kids early and picked them up late. The city fire ordinance sign posted by the snack bar read: “Maximum Occupancy 527,” but no one ever counted, except Mr. Perlman, the manager, and he only counted his receipts.

  Today, like most Saturdays, it wasn't possible for any late arrivers to find pairs of seats. And today was a Tarzan double feature, with a Sabu movie thrown in for good measure; it was sure to be packed. Kids sometimes had to have their little brothers or sisters sit on their laps, and the carpeted open area, below the screen, usually resembled a playground at recess. From cartwheels to wrestling, something was always going on.

  That morning, last April, Ronnie and Lee had been late. Ronnie's mom had been forced to wait for Mr. McGiver to get home with the family's car. Lee's family, because of the wreck, was still afoot. Patty hadn't been allowed to come along, as Maggie didn't like the idea of her seeing naked natives. Melissa had a cold, and Robbie and Carolyn were still too little, so the boys were on their own.

  Ronnie had gone down to sit in the front, and Lee had the good luck or misfortune to grab the open seat next to Lisa. Jeff who arrived really late, between the first and second cartoons, had seen the two sitting side-by-side as he came down the aisle. Pushing through in front of the kids in the seats by the aisle, he demanded that Lee vacate the seat. Lee refused.

  Throughout the next cartoon, two news reels, coming attractions, and the movies Jeff had gone out of his way to pick a fight with Lee, pelting him with sticky, spit soaked lemon drops from a seat across the aisle. And when those ran out, with deadly accuracy, he shot bits of ice from his soda through a straw, just like one of the African pygmies armed with a blowgun running around in the Sabu movie up on the big screen.

  When the final feature was over, Jeff had hurried outside to have the best spot to catch Lee coming out. Out on the sidewalk, in front of everyone, Jeff told Lee, “You can either walk over to the parking lot, or get your ass kicked right here in front of the theatre."

  A horde of kids streamed out, following the two around back to the parking lot to watch Lee get pounded.

  One thing that you could say for Jeff was that he always got right down to business. Some bullies like to drag things out, but not Jeff. He was belligerent and swaggering as he called Lee every filthy word he could think of, really more to impress the crowd than to make Lee angry. It really didn't make a difference that Jeff couldn't line up anything to make any sense.

  "Lee Coombs, you're a stinking rat butt wiper, fucking shit turd asshole, jack off, butt wad, slime bastard face, puke, mother fucker.” Jeff was so worked up he spit a glob every time he hit the T's and P's. Still, he did hit a sore spot when he said: “You got a dumb
ass whore for a step mamma who fucks her dead sister's husband.” He sneered and called the last part out so that even the kids in the back could hear. “Only low-down white trash has an aunt for a mamma. What kind of white trash are you, boy? Huh? Huh? You better say something!"

  What could Lee say? It was like one of those trick questions that no matter what he might say, it's would always be the wrong answer. Jeff wasn't that smart; it just came out that way. Lee could only stand his ground and wait for the tirade to end and the action to start.

  With his longer reach Jeff signaled a conclusion to the verbal portion of the afternoon's entertainment, by reaching out and pushing Lee in the face. Immediately he followed up with an arcing roundhouse right for the side of Lee's head.

  Lee though, ducked under and charged in. His first swing caught Jeff in the top of his stomach, just below the spot where his ribs came together. With the air knocked out of him, Jeff doubled over, only to instantly find Lee's left arm wrapped around his neck in a crushing headlock. Like a rotating mechanical cam on one of the printing presses where his father worked, Lee pummeled Jeff as fast as he could swing and connect, making every blow count.

  Frantically, and now fighting for life instead of ego, Jeff managed to wriggle free. His ears were bright red and thick blood was pasted around both nostrils and smeared across his lips. With a furious, blind rage behind him Jeff came back swinging. Two blows caught Lee before he could get up a good defense, and he saw stars. Jeff squared up and launched a haymaker that would have ended it had it connected. But once again, Lee ducked under, and grabbed Jeff by the neck. This time he didn't let go. Harder and faster than before, with a hundred kids screaming as they watched, Lee drove Jeff to the ground blow by blow. It was with a solid white-knuckled bash, flat against Jeff's temple, that knocked the bigger boy cold. One second the big kid had been bent over, one arm trapped behind Lee's back and the other desperately trying to claw the headlock loose, and the next second he collapsed. Of course, Lee went down with him, but he was on top.