Her gaze settled on the unfinished houses. Surely several of the kids were hiding there. Who could resist that? She moved forward. The plastic tarp on the second house snapped in the breeze. She breathed in the scent of freshly cut wood. Clean wood beams peeked out from under the tarp. The sidewalk ended and she was walking on uneven ground, gravel rustling under her feet. She studied the ground. No footprints. The dirt hid any trace of the kids.
Would any of them hide in the house with the flapping tarp? She couldn’t imagine hiding there, listening to the plastic snap and crackle. It even drowned out her footsteps as she moved forward. Anyone hiding there wouldn’t hear her coming. Still she had to look, just in case. If she didn’t she might miss someone.
She circled around the tarp and found an opening at the side of the house. The inside was just the ground floor with wood beams marking where the walls would go. She could see clear through to the back of the house. Nothing, only dust that made her nose itch. She rubbed it with the back of her hand and retreated.
Pauline headed for the next house. Had she made a mistake looking here? Surely a couple of the kids had hidden in these houses. How could anyone resist? Wasn’t that why they met at Maple Crescent, to take advantage of the construction? Sure it was. She nodded to herself. She’d find somebody soon.
The next house didn’t have a porch so she circled around the back. Holes in the walls marked the windows and the back door. Pauline walked in.
Orange sunlight glowed through the rooms. Pauline breathed shallowly as she inched along. Her feet stirred the dust on the floor. Ahead of her, the dust had already been disturbed. Her heart beat quickened. Someone else was here! She was going to find them!
She crept forward, following the disturbance. It rounded a corner. She stopped at the edge, listening. Tree branches creaked in the breeze. The plastic tarp from the house several doors down still snapped but it was less like a gunshot and more like a finger snap. Inside the house was only stillness, a hush as if the house was holding its breath. Was it hiding one of the kids? She would have to turn that corner to find out.
Pauline hunched down to peer from closer to the floor. The kid wouldn’t spot her then. For a moment, she hesitated. Her mom would kill her if she got these new salmon-coloured pants dirty but wasn’t that what pants were for? Dust puffed up as she knelt down. Hands resting on her thighs, she leaned forward and peered around the corner.
A hallway led to the right. Stairs at the far end led to the second floor. A thrill ran through her. The trail led toward the stairs.
Pauline stood up and crept forward. Her runners stirred the dust. It itched at her nose. A cough welled up in her throat. She pursed her lips and blew air out through them. The urge to cough stopped.
She crept up the few stairs then stopped, listening for any creaking. Nothing. She continued climbing. Silence followed her to the top. Plain wooden planks covered the unfinished floor. It had a precarious look that made her nervous but the trail led off around another corner to the left. Someone was definitely here and she could catch them. She couldn’t back out now. She’d never live it down. It would get around the school before lunch the next day. She’d have to switch schools, maybe leave town!
She swallowed and rubbed her sweating hands on her pants. Her legs trembled with excitement. Time to find the kid who was hiding here. She followed the trail, moving carefully to avoid raising more dust and alerting the kid. Outside, the plastic tarp snapped in the distance as if urging her to hurry. Was there another way down to the first floor? Maybe that kid was already getting away.
Her heart beat quickened. She had to find someone then they had to help her find others. She had to show all of them she was worthy of playing their game. She hurried forward and peered around the corner into an empty room with a pile of debris in the corner. She saw the hole where the closet would be. She started to move away, then stopped. The trail ended. Either the kid had learned to fly over the dust or . . .
Pauline turned back to the room. The shell of the closet was empty, gapping like a shallow mouth. She studied the debris, a mix of wood, slabs of drywall and wire. She stomped forward, kicking up as much dust as possible in front of her. She reached the debris pile, leaned down and scooped up a pile of dust then blew it toward the debris pile.
Nothing happened. Dust tickled her nose. She pinched her nostrils, stifling the cough that threatened to explode out of her. The cloud of dust hung in the air then drifted down, layering the debris. Anybody would be coughing like crazy by now. Could she have been wrong?
Somebody had to be hiding here. There was no other place in the house to hide. A length of wood stuck out of the bottom. She grabbed it with both hands and gave it a tug. Broken brick, pieces of fabric and wood collapsed. Pauline dropped the wood and covered her mouth and nose with her hands. Her eyes squeezed shut against the cloud of dirt. After a moment she opened her eyes.
Dust coated her hands like fine gloves. Grit scraped along her back, between her t-shirt and her skin. Her new pants were smeared with dirt. Oh, Mom was going to kill her!
And it hadn’t even been worth it, she realized. No one hid under the debris pile. How could that be, she wondered. She’d been so sure. The trail had been unmistakable.
A silver glint caught her gaze. Something near the edge of the debris. She stepped forward and bend down. A yoyo. Teddy’s yoyo. He had been here and faked her out. Her fingers closed around it. It felt wet and the string was frayed, snapped. Probably how he lost it as he’d made the marks and taken off. She looked at her fingers. Dirt smeared the wetness into reddish brown. Strange.
She couldn’t see his retreating tracks but he had to be fooling her. Pauline nodded to herself and pushed a strand of brown hair off her forehead. She understood now. She wiped the reddish wetness on the side of her pants and left.
She searched through three more houses without finding anyone. In one of the houses she found a gold barrette with a broken clasp. Bits of red hair were caught in the tiny screw. It looked familiar, had Bridget been wearing it? She couldn’t remember. She left it behind.
Several times she thought she saw traces of someone hiding, a trail of footsteps or even sections of debris moved around, but no kids. Could they all hear her coming and escape before she got there? Maybe one or two of them could do it without her knowing, but all of them? Wouldn’t she have heard somebody? She tried to swallow but her mouth was suddenly dry.
Sunlight streaked orange across the sky. Pauline watched it sink below the line of houses in the distance. They played for an hour after dark. How could she be able to find anyone by then? Her cheeks flushed with heat. How embarrassing that she couldn’t even find one kid.
So far she’d stayed on one side of the street. Time to vary the routine. She hurried across and searched through four houses. Nothing. How could this be? The sun was slipping away. She had to find someone.
She ran to the next house. It had a real front door and intact windows. She slipped inside and closed the door. Darkness enveloped her. After a moment, her eyes adjusted. The living room entrance stood on her right. She peered in but the room was empty. She headed toward the upstairs. Better to check the second floor. She didn’t want some kid slipping back down the stairs and out the front door before she found them.
Under her foot, the third stair creaked. She froze. Her breath caught in her lungs. Her hand gripped the railing, grittiness scraped her flesh. No sound. Maybe it had been just a little creak, not enough for anyone else to hear. She crept up the stairs.
At the top, she found a trail in the dust. Someone was hiding up here! Her heart pounded. She rubbed her hands on her pants, trying to dry them of the sudden sweat that beaded on them but she only succeeded in smearing the dirt into the fabric. Oh man, her mom. Could she make Pauline get any deader than dead?
Pauline followed the trail to the back. One of the smaller bedroom doors stood ajar. She flattened herself to the wall and crept forward. Light from the window leaked into the hallway,
but not enough to illuminate her. She held her breath, not daring to make a sound. Her feet inched along, silent as she moved. The door was a hand’s width away. She couldn’t see anything through the crack. She took a breath then lifted her hand to the door and pushed!
The door swung wide. She jumped through the doorway.
“Ha!” she yelled.
The room was empty. They hadn’t even put the windows in up here. Pauline’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Another dead end. She started to turn back. Her gaze fell on the open closet.
Something lay at the bottom of the closet. It looked like a piece of fabric. Pauline crouched down for a closer look.
A torn pocket, she thought. She lifted the fabric and a small kid’s flashlight rolled across the floor. It stopped against her knee. A Sammy the Shaggy Dog light, they came with different filters that made shadow shapes when you slid them over the end of the light. She turned it over in her hand. The casing looked cracked and dented. She tried the button but the light stayed stubbornly off. She shook it and heard a rattle inside. Had it broken? She tightened the bottom. Dim light sprang out, illuminating the dust floating in the air.
Now she noticed the fabric was soggy, as if dunked in water. She turned the light on it. Reddish smears streaked her palm. She dropped the fabric pocket. Her heart pounded in her chest. She rubbed her palm on her pants. Hadn’t the yoyo she’d found been wet too?
Somebody had been here and dropped the flashlight, but where were they now? What had happened? Nobody would just leave it here for her to find. She swung the light beam around then noticed something funny about the window frame.
Floating dust finally made her sneeze as she struggled to her feet. She walked over to the window and shone the light on the ledge.
Shards of glass stuck up from the ledge like baby teeth. Pauline traced the frame with the light and saw other pieces of glass sticking out. On the right by the top, part of the frame bent inward. She could see where the wood had splintered. Along the bottom, the reddish liquid streaked down the plaster into a small puddle on the floor.
Her fingers whitened around the flashlight. She backed away from the window and almost yelped when her back touched the door.
The flashlight wove crazy patterns along the wall as she ran down the stairs. She burst past the front door and skidded to a stop in the middle of the street. Her heart thudded in her chest like a big man hammering on a door. She felt as if a dozen pairs of eyes were watching her but when she spun around to look, nothing but empty windows faced her. The sky above her darkened as the sun dipped behind the trees in the distance. Soon it would be completely dark. What would she do then?
Now she wanted to go home. She didn’t care about the humiliation, didn’t care if her mom would kill her for the stains on her new pants. The light from the flashlight jerked back and forth across the asphalt. She tightened her grip to stop the trembling in her hand. Yes, time to go home.
She retreated back along the streets. The unfinished houses weren’t interesting and exciting anymore, they were creepy and sinister. Their very emptiness hid things from her and she no longer wanted to find anything inside them.
As she neared the end of the construction zone, she drew level to the house with the tarp. The wind picked up, pushing at her back and tossing her brown hair in a cloud around her face. The tarp lifted, higher than before, exposing the floor marked with wood beams. Something white glimmered inside, a figure. Was it one of the kids?
Pauline stopped walking and pushed her hair from her face. The tarp floated down, covering the view. The edges ruffled, scrapping across the ground as if calling her forward.
What should she do? She still wanted to go home, could still feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest, like a staccato drum beat. But if that was one of the kids and she just walked away she’d never hear the end of it. She bit her lip, nibbling a loose piece of skin. The sharp edge of the flashlight pinched her palm.
She shuffled forward. The tarp rustled. How long would it take for her to look? Only a few moments. The entire floor was wide open, she could see all the way through. All she needed was to peek under the tarp see if anybody was there and then go home.
That she could do. Her steps quickened with her resolve. The faster she looked, the sooner she could run home.
The tarp was grimy when she touched it or maybe it was her hand sweating. She lifted the tarp and slipped underneath. As it swung back down behind her, she realized that shadows hid the interior. She could only see a few feet in front of her. She flicked on the flashlight. Its feeble beam only extended her view a few more feet. She would have to walk around the entire floor to see if anyone was there.
Her feet inched forward. She remembered seeing the wood beams marking out the walls. She would have to be careful not to walk into any of them or get tripped up. She didn’t want to twist her ankle.
Her feet kicked up small clouds of dust as she moved forward. The dust danced in the beam of her flashlight. She moved deeper toward the back of the house. Still no sign of the white figure. Had she really seen someone?
A noise came from the back of a house. Someone moving, disturbing dust or debris. Her hand tightened on the flashlight. Now the pounding of her heart was also from excitement. Maybe if she found one of the kids her humiliation wouldn’t be so complete.
She picked her feet up, trying to move faster and quieter. Her shoulder bumped a wood beam, unsettling dust that rained down on her. Her throat constricted as she tried to hold back a cough. Another few steps then she couldn’t stop herself. She coughed.
The sound floated away in the darkness. She held her hand to her mouth, tasting dirt. Suddenly the darkness seemed heavier, more sinister. Maybe this had been a mistake. No kid was hiding back here. Maybe she’d find some sicko. Wrecking her new pants didn’t seem quite so bad any more.
She started to back away. The flashlight beam swung crazily in front of her. She caught a glimpse of something white lying on the floor. It jumped and jerked away. She heard a soft, high-pitched squeal. That didn’t sound like a sicko.
Pauline couldn’t help herself, she had to know. She swung the flashlight back to the area where the white had appeared and headed toward it. Nothing for a moment, then she caught another glimpse. The tip of something, like a rat tail. It didn’t move. She aimed the flashlight off to the side, just enough that she could still see it in the soft glow.
She took a breath, felt the dust tickle her nose, then jumped forward. One foot stomped on the white tail-thing. It squirmed under her foot. Something squealed, this time loud and long. She aimed the flashlight along the tail then almost dropped it.
The body rose out of a hole in the floor. A multiple of white tentacles wrapped around it so she couldn’t see the definite shape. In the middle, a slit appeared and the edges of pinkish white flesh pulled back. A watery, pale blue eye blinked at her.
Pauline shuddered. The flashlight shook in her hand. The jerking beam fell across scraps of clothing and discarded running shoes. Blood smeared across the white tentacles. As they wrapped around itself, she saw bones sticking out from the crevices. She recognized Brenda’s tank top, Ravi’s jacket, Billy’s shirt. Now it would never get tucked in.
A squeak immerged from her parched throat. She watched as the tentacles waved closer. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was going to kill her! She ground her foot down on the tentacle.
Another shriek, this time louder. The tentacles withdrew, wrapping around the body. The eye blinked at her.
Pauline wiped sweat from her forehead. In that blinking eye, she thought she saw something. Annoyance? How did she know? The feeling seemed to rise up in her and she realized it was coming from the thing in front of her. It was upset. Why?
She’d found it! When it hid so well.
The eye closed. The tentacles began to tap a rhythm on the dusty floor. Pauline stepped off the tentacle and backed away. She stared at the scraps of fabric dotting the creature. As it tapped a piece of
Sandra’s blonde hair dislodged and fluttered to the floor. The tentacle kept tapping.
What was it doing?
It tapped again. One-two-three . . .
Her heart thudded. It was counting. Counting to a hundred!
Her throat clenched. When it reached a hundred that eye would open and it would start seeking her. She had to hide.
Pauline dropped the flashlight and began to run.
what we found
GEOFF RYMAN
Can’t sleep. Still dark.
Waiting for light in the East.
My rooster crows. Knows it’s my wedding day. I hear the pig rooting around outside. Pig, the traditional gift for the family of my new wife. I can’t sleep because alone in the darkness there is nothing between me and the realization that I do not want to get married. Well, Patrick, you don’t have long to decide.
The night bakes black around me. Three-thirty A.M. In three hours, the church at the top of the road will start with the singing. Two hours after that, everyone in both families will come crowding into my yard.
My rooster crows again, all his wives in the small space behind the house. It is still piled with broken bottles from when my father lined the top of that wall with glass shards.
That was one of his good times, when he wore trousers and a hat and gave orders. I mixed the concrete, and passed it up in buckets to my eldest brother, Matthew. He sat on the wall like riding a horse, slopping on concrete and pushing in the glass. Raphael was reading in the shade of the porch. “I’m not wasting my time doing all that,” he said. “How is broken glass going to stop a criminal who wants to get in?” He always made me laugh, I don’t know why. Nobody else was smiling.
When we were young my father would keep us sitting on the hot, hairy sofa in the dark, no lights, no TV because he was driven mad by the sound of the generator. Eyes wide, he would quiver like a wire, listening for it to start up again. My mother tried to speak and he said, “Sssh. Sssh! There it goes again.”
Imaginarium: The Best Canadian Speculative Writing Page 11
