Rockinghorse

by William W. Johnstone

He blasted the night with a fury of gunfire, flame leaping from the muzzle of the .45, the peacefulness of the night shattered by the booming of the heavy pistol.

  Then the scene before them vanished, leaving the freshly mown grass bare and dew-damp under the moonlight. They both whirled around at a sound behind them.

  “I just had a terrible nightmare!” Jackie said. She was standing in the doorway. She was dressed in pajamas and had been crying.

  Lucas looked at the pistol in his hand, a thin finger of smoke leaking from the muzzle. He lifted his eyes first to his daughter, then to meet his wife’s eyes.

  Neither of them could believe what they had just seen—and were seeing.

  “Jesus Gawd Amighty!” Lige called through the night. “What in the hell’s goin’ on around here?”

  The man had Baby on a chain and was carrying a club in his other hand.

  “A bear!” Lucas called over the expanse of lawn. “There was a bear in the yard. I think I scared it off.”

  “Took ten years off my life,” Lige called. “That shootin’ started, Baby jumped right square up in my bed. I thought the Widow Hargrove done tracked me down agin. Cain’t hardly tell her and Baby apart.” He looked down at Baby. “Sorry, Baby.”

  While Tracy was comforting Jackie, Lucas called to Lige through the open window. “I think the bear is gone, Lige. I want to thank you for being concerned about us.”

  “Shore. They’re plenty b’ar around here. I got me a notion that’s what slapped you goofy back yonder in the woods. Well, night, y’all.” He disappeared into the night.

  “You all right now?” Tracy asked Jackie.

  The girl nodded her head.

  “It was just a dream,” her mother assured her. “It’s all right now. It’s over. You two go on back to bed.”

  The kids said, “Night.”

  Lucas reloaded the clip and slapped it back into the butt of the .45. He was silent as he sat on the edge of the bed.

  Tracy sat down beside him. “A bear, Lucas?”

  He shook his head. “That’s all I could think of at the moment. Things were happening pretty damned fast. Tracy, tell me exactly what you saw out there.” He pointed to the open window overlooking the expanse of lawn. “Or what we both thought we saw.”

  Carefully, she re-created what she had seen. A naked Jackie being chased by men who looked like prehistoric cavemen.

  The couple lay back on the bed and held hands. Lucas said, “I know what I did all day, Trace. I can account for every minute. But you tell me what you and Jackie did, and try not to leave anything out.”

  He felt her eyes on him.

  “Why, Lucas?”

  “Humor me.”

  With a sigh of patience, Tracy said, “Jackie and I did some work upstairs, then my curiosity got the better of me and I tried to get into the attic. The door was locked. We spent about an hour looking for the key. We finally—or Jackie did—found a ring of keys in the little room just off the kitchen. They were hanging from a nail. The very last one we tried unlocked the attic door. Then we had to find fresh light bulbs. Lucas, you would not believe the junk we found up there. It’ll take weeks to go through it all. There are boxes piled on top of boxes. Trunks piled on top of trunks. Old furniture; some very expensive antiques. Some of the trunks are so heavy we couldn’t move them. Others have chains around them, secured with heavy locks. We spent most of the rest of the day just prowling around up in the attic. And we found the cutest rocking horse you have ever seen. It’s very old. Not a nail in it; all put together with pegs. Jackie took it down from the attic to the landing and we cleaned it up. It’s really precious, Lucas. That’s how I spent my day.”

  “A rocking horse.” He thought immediately of his tattoo.

  “Yes.”

  “Life ain’t no rocking horse . . . you got to get right back up and right back on that rocking horse, boy.” Grandfather Taylor’s words came back to him in a rush.

  “Lucas?”

  “Sorry. Tracy, don’t you see the connection?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My tattoo.”

  She was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was small in the darkness of the bedroom. “I didn’t connect it. But is there any connection?”

  “There has to be. But damned if I know what it is.”

  She was silent for a moment. Lucas knew she was thinking about the rocking horse she and Jackie had found. “What are you going to do, Lucas?”

  “To be truthful, honey, I don’t know. But I’m going to look at that rocking horse first thing in the morning. It’s got to be connected. It just has to be.”

  “And after you look at it?”

  “I might burn the goddamned thing.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. She rolled over, turned her back to him, and without another word went to sleep.

  Pissed her off again, Lucas thought.

  On the second-floor landing of the mansion, the painted-on grin of the rocking horse changed into the ugliness of a homicidal maniac after a fresh kill. Its painted-on eyes took a new life, beginning to shift and slowly blink. The hobbyhorse listened to a voice only it could hear, and began to rock slowly back and forth on its wooden runners. And in the timber surrounding the mansion, shadowy forms began to gather, to squat and stare at the dark shape of the house. To stare in silence. The night was their world, for they could not live in the light of God’s day. As they squatted in the midst of their stink, hate and loathing for those who resided inside the mansion glinted and gleamed out of their eyes.

  One of them defecated where it squatted. The others gathered around to smell. Another softly grunted a command. The others went back to their positions, assigned by age and rank in their primitive pecking order.

  These beings, these creatures, these not-quite-animal but not-quite-human things were all that remained of the direct ancestors of those who came before them. They had always lived here. That was as much as they knew of their history: that they had always been. And in some form or another, they would always be. It had been promised those who came before them. They knew they were supposed to hate all those who did not command them. They did not know why they were supposed to hate—they just did as they were told. For hundreds of years they had carefully avoided all contact with those not like them. They had lived peacefully in the dark timber, venturing out only at night. As long as those who were not like them did not hurt one of their own, they would hurt none of the others.

  But then, longer ago than even the oldest of the creatures could recall, something had changed all that. They could no longer live in peace. Those who had come before them had had a leader that could not be seen. And now those who came after had to obey. That was the way.

  It was all so strange..

  Where once half a thousand had lived, now there were no more than a handful of the Rejects, as they were called. And for years now they had been forced to obey one not of their own kind.

  As a faint, nickering sound, a whinneying sound, drifted through the night air, the Rejects slipped back into the deep timber. Back to their carefully concealed holes in the earth, where those who came before them lived. To lie quietly at rest during the daylight unsafe time. And to hate those not like themselves.

  The Rejects wished they knew, wished someone would tell them why they had to hate. But no one ever did.

  It was all so strange

  And the forest was once more silent as only the shadows created by the night crept through the brush and timber. But even that seemed alive. And evil.

  “Hell, it’s cute,” Lucas said.

  “Told you,” Tracy smiled, as she stood by his side on the landing.

  Lucas put his hand on the hard painted rump of the rocking horse and gently pushed. The horse rocked back and forth as its tail twitched up and down and back and forth with the movement. Lucas felt an almost-electric sensation run from his hand to his shoulder. But it was a very pleasant sensation—almost erotic.

  The little
hobbyhorse was so cute all thoughts of destroying it left Lucas’s mind.

  “Well?” Tracy asked. “When do we start the bonfire?”

  “What?”

  “You said you might burn it, remember?”

  “You’re taking me literally, Trace.” Lucas looked down at the horse and shrugged. “Hell, what harm could this thing possible do?”

  Man and wife walked down the spiraling steps, leaving the rocking horse alone on the landing. Had either of them turned around, they might have seen the shape of a young boy materializing by the horse’s side, one hand on the hobbyhorse’s neck. The boy’s eyes glowed with sadness and hate and nearly uncontrollable fury. The eyes of the rocking horse shifted, to look with something akin to love at the boy.

  Then the wavy shape of the boy changed into a mist and dissipated, vanishing, leaving only the rocking horse on the landing. Rocking slowly back and forth. Under an invisible hand.

  The horse smiled, its painted-on mouth moving in an evil semblance of a smile. The rocking horse knew the boy had not gone far.

  Ira, the horse seemed to say. Ira.

  Man and wife stopped on the steps. Lucas looked at Tracy. “Did you say something, honey?”

  She shook her head. “No. Why? What did you hear?”

  He smiled it off. “I guess nothing. My imagination, I suppose.”

  “Come on, old man,” she took his arm. “How about some pancakes for breakfast?”

  * * *

  “Dad?” Jackie asked after breakfast. “Would it be all right if we,” she looked at Johnny, “go walking up the road? Maybe do a little exploring? We’ve been here a month and neither of us have left the grounds except to go with you and Mother into town.”

  Lucas looked at Tracy. “What do you think, honey?”

  “Oh, I don’t see what harm it would do.” She met her daughter’s eyes. “Tell you what—that road’s pretty smooth; why not take your bikes?”

  “All right!” they both echoed. Since arriving at the Bowers plantation, brother and sister had grown much closer. Much to Jackie’s surprise, they were even friends. Who’d have thought it?

  “Fill your water bottles,” Tracy said. “And take a handful of cookies.”

  “And if you’re not back here by eleven-thirty,” Lucas warned them both, “we’re calling out the National Guard.”

  “Make sure they’re all cute soldiers,” Jackie said with a smile.

  “Jesus,” Lucas muttered.

  “And don’t you get off the road,” Tracy added.

  “Maybe we should get a pencil and paper and write all this down,” Johnny said, with the smile of his that ensured no anger from his parents.

  “Get outta here,” Lucas joked.

  The road smoothed out into hard-packed dirt about a mile from the Bowers’s property line. The kids had not yet seen any other houses on either side of the road.

  “This is weird,” Jackie said, looking around her at the timbered nothing.

  “What is?”

  “No houses, fool!”

  “Mister T, you ain’t. Who’d wanna live out here?” Johnny summed it all up with youthful feeling.

  “Yeah, but we’ve seen that car and truck drive out of this direction a bunch of times,” Jackie said. “And they always come back. So somebody has to live up this way, right?”

  The boy looked at his wristwatch. “Well, we got lots of time before we have to think about heading back. So let’s keep on exploring. Got to be something out here.”

  Then they heard the sounds drifting toward them. The kids stopped their bicycles in the road and listened.

  “Dogs barking,” Johnny said. “More than one.” He cut his eyes. “Look!”

  They both spotted the rutted, grass-covered old road leading off toward the north, into the dark timber. They would have missed the road had they not been looking directly at it.

  Jackie glanced at Johnny and correctly read her brother’s thoughts. “The folks said not to get off the road.”

  “Yeah. But they didn’t say which road, did they?”

  “You’re sneaky, Johnny. Real sneaky. That sign,” she said, pointing, “says ‘No Trespassing,’ or are you retarded?”

  “Blow it out your ear. So, are you afraid to go in there?”

  Her reply was to stick out her tongue at him and to point her bike up the old road. Johnny followed her.

  “Let’s leave our bikes here,” Jackie suggested when the road became so rutted it was almost impossible to keep pedaling.

  Leaving their bikes, brother and sister walked on. The road was very narrow, with just enough room for a single vehicle. And it was dark. The limbs of the trees formed a thick canopy over the single lane, creating patches of near darkness with narrow lines of light lancing through the overhang. The kids walked on.

  The barking of the dogs was now very loud.

  “We’re close,” Jackie said.

  “I never would have guessed. We’d better take it easy from here on,” the boy said. “Kinda sneak up on the place.”

  “Like I said, Johnny. You’re sneaky, boy. Real sneaky.”

  “Relax,” Lucas said. “There is nothing up there the kids can get into. I’ve driven up this road as far as the road goes. There isn’t another house anywhere near the road.”

  “Then where do you suppose that car and truck go?” she asked. “We’ve both seen them several times, right?”

  “Far off the road, wherever they go. Trace, we can’t keep them prisoners. Jackie’s almost thirteen, and she’s a very responsible young lady. We let them go to the movies by themselves back home, don’t we? God knows, Trace, it should be safer down here.”

  She sighed. “I guess you’re right. ”Oh . . . I know you are. But didn’t Jim tell you those people not far from here worship the devil?”

  Lucas fought to hide his smile. “No, he didn’t. He said some people claim they do. Now, come on, Tracy.”

  She met his eyes and shared his smile. “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of my firstborn growing up so soon.”

  “You think I do? Speaking of that, I think it’s about time you . . . ah, well, you know—had a talk with Jackie.”

  “Oh?” she teased him. “And what would you like us to discuss?”

  “The facts of life.”

  “Oh. I see. The birds and the bees, huh?”

  “Tracy . . . ”

  She tugged at his short sleeve. “Lemmie see your tatto, baby; it turns me on.”

  “Damn it, Tracy!”

  She laughed at his antics and patted his arm. “Relax, old man. I’ve already had several chats with our daughter.”

  “Well . . . good. And I wish you’d tell her to stop wearing her shorts so tight. They’re almost . . . well, indecent.”

  Tracy laughed, then did a perfect parody of her daughter’s reaction to such a suggestion. Putting her hands on her hips, she said, “Mother!”

  Lucas laughed and said, “OK, I get the point.” He looked at his watch. “Good Lord! It’s only been a half-hour since they left.”

  Far above them, on the landing, the rocking horse began slowly rocking, back and forth. Its eyes blinked, the eyes containing a savage look. A look not of this earth. Not of this world.

  * * *

  “Look at that place!” Johnny whispered hoarsely. “It’s like something right out of a horror movie.”

  The house that lay before them, situated behind a six-foot-high chain link fence, was made of brick and wood and native stone. A long narrow structure, it contained few windows, all of which were shuttered closed. On each corner of the second story, at the roofline, a huge, grotesquely hideous gargoyle perched, the sightless eyes seeming to be in constant search in all directions, observing all, silently absorbing each movement, mutely recording every sight and sound. Four big Dobermans roamed inside the fence, huge black animals with massive jaws and very unfriendly eyes.

  A large sign affixed to the top of the gate read: THE UNKNOWN IS HERE.

  “God!
” Jackie breathed. “You suppose the place is haunted?”

  His reply was tersely given. “If it isn’t, it should be.”

  Both kids froze as several pairs of footsteps whispered in the grass behind them. Johnny turned and looked up into mean eyes.

  “Food for the dogs,” a man said.

  Jackie’s screaming echoed throughout the woods surrounding the house where Unknown resided.

  9

  “All right,” Lucas said flatly, tension and anger in his voice. “It’s time, past time, for them to be back. I’m going to spank some butt when I find them.”

  “Keep your temper in check, old man. Come on. Let’s go look for them. They’re an hour overdue, and you and I both know this isn’t like them at all . . .”

  “I know.” He went into their bedroom and looked at the nightstand where he kept his .45. After a few seconds’ pause, Lucas opened the drawer and stuck the pistol behind his belt. He slipped a few extra cartridges into his pocket and walked out to where Tracy was waiting. “Let’s go,” he said.

  She looked at the pistol in his waistband but said nothing.

  Husband and wife, each trying to keep the worry from the other, rode the old dirt-and-gravel road, each of them scanning their side of the road for any sign of the children.

  Nothing.

  They rode the last half-mile in silence. At road’s end, Lucas stopped the wagon, sighed heavily, and turned around.

  “Shit!” Tracy said.

  “Yeah.”

  They headed back.

  They retraced their route, slower this time, the station wagon just creeping along.

  “There!” Tracy said, pointing.

  Lucas stopped the wagon and got out, Tracy following him.

  “This is the only road leading off this one,” Tracy said. “But how can we know for sure if the kids are down this road?” She looked into the gloom of the dark, rutted road. Her eyes fell on the “No Trespassing” sign. “Oh, boy,” she said. “Look at that.”

  “Yeah. It would be like Johnny to ignore it. Well, we’ll leave the wagon here and walk down.” He looked into the gloom. He could see the tracks of bike tires going in, but none coming out. He pointed to them. “Right there, honey. They went in, but didn’t come out.”