Will sat up in the darkness, began to reach for the light. What the hell is going on?
“Will, I’m here, listen . . .”
The whisper was real. It came from within the room.
From beneath the bed.
“Who’s there?” he choked. “Who’s there?” His hand hovered an inch from the light. This is hypnogogia. It has to be. It makes no sense. I’m dreaming. The cats are asleep. I’m asleep. This is fascinating. I’m not really sitting up, I just think I am. No wonder people are frightened by this exper—
From beneath the bed came the whisper. “Will, it’s Michael.”
“What the hell?” Will slapped on the light and looked around the room. No cats. He jumped out of bed, not knowing if he was asleep or awake, so he pinched himself. It hurt.
“Will, it’s me, Michael. Listen . . .”
He dropped to his knees and peered under the bed, saw nothing but darkness and the end of the baseball bat. But from out of the darkness, he heard Michael’s voice again, only inches away. He thought he felt his brother’s breath against his cheek.
Will scuttled backwards six feet then got up and stared at the bed. “Michael?” His voice cracked. “Michael.”
“Will.”
That’s all he heard, just the one word, just his name, and then it stopped.
He had to be dreaming. He walked to the bathroom and drank a glass of water, splashed his face, and dried it, then walked out to the living room, looking for his cats. They weren’t there. He looked in the office next and found them, all three, huddled together under his desk.
“What’s wrong, guys?”
They stared at him, eyes wide, and flinched back when he tried to touch them. “Okay. This is some weird dream.” So saying, he stood and walked back to the bedroom, climbed into bed and turned off the light. At least he had new understanding of what a hypnogogic hallucination was like. It was horrifying in its realism.
He dreamed he fell asleep, but when the alarm rang in the morning and he found himself alone, not a cat in sight, he shivered. Had it really been a dream?
38
“No, no, no. Go away.” Will buried his head in his pillow, trying to drown out the ringing phone. It stopped at four rings then rang four more times. On round three, he looked at the bedside clock. It wasn’t quite six A.M. and whoever was calling knew he liked to let the machine pick up. At this hour, it wouldn’t be a junk call. At this hour, it was probably important. He answered on the third ring of round four. “Yeah.”
“Did I wake you, you grump?”
Maggie’s voice. He felt slightly less grumpy. “You woke me.”
“It’s beautiful out.”
He opened his eyes, saw daylight seeping into the room. “Oh? I wouldn’t know.”
“Want to go for a power walk before work? I’ll meet you on the Crescent.”
“Oh, Lord. Maggie, I’m still asleep.”
“Come on. It’ll do you good. I’ll bring donuts and a thermos of coffee to offset the healthy part.”
“What kind of donuts?”
“Glazed.”
“You know me.”
“You’re easy to please.” She laughed.
He smiled and propped himself up in bed. “If you bring donuts, I’ll meet you for a walk on the beach. Not a power walk. It’s too early to even use that word.”
“Okay. Twenty minutes?”
“Yeah, the picnic area parking lot. That’s weird,” he added, to himself. “Hang on.”
“What’s wrong?”
He looked around the room. Not a cat to be seen. They should have started climbing on him the moment he answered the phone. “The cats aren’t here.”
“What do you mean?” She echoed the alarm that he heard in his own voice.
“They spooked sometime last night. Ran out of the room. I thought I dreamed it.” Oh, Lord. Michael. It was a dream. I probably yelled in my sleep and scared the cats.
“Find them now. Take me with you.”
He didn’t argue, but got out of bed. “Hang on,” he told Maggie, then took the handset away from his face. “Guys? Kitty, kitty, kitties!” he called as he walked into the hall. “Freud! Rorschach! Jung!”
He put the phone to his head. “Nothing so far.”
“Do you know how funny it sounds when you call dead psychiatrists like that?”
“You named your dog Anteater, so I don’t want to hear about names.” He headed straight to his office. Three sets of eyes blinked at him. Morning sunlight haloed their ginger fur.
“This is so strange,” he told Maggie as he began petting the trio. “I dreamed they left the bedroom and hid under my desk. They’re on top of it now.”
“Are they all right?”
“Slow to warm up,” he said as Freud finally gave a tentative purr, Jung made a silent meow, and Rorschach gave a full-tilt trill. “But okay. You guys want breakfast?” Trilling and chirping, the Orange Boys stood and stretched. Breakfast was another special word. “They’re hungry.”
“They’re fine, then. Whatever you thought you dreamed must have been real, though. What was it?”
“I—I can’t remember. Some sort of nightmare. I think I yelled and frightened them.”
“Bullshit. You can’t lie your way out of a paper bag, Will. What did you dream?”
“I don’t remember,” he repeated.
Maggie, being Maggie, took the hint. “So, six-thirty at the Crescent?”
“Six forty-five. I want to spend a little time with these guys and look around. Make sure nobody tried to break in or anything.”
“Okay. See you.”
39
“Breakfast is ready. Hurry up and get out here.” Kevin plated the cheese and avocado omelets then added a dollop of sour cream and sprinkled each with chopped chives. Hot coffee and sausage scented the air.
“I’m not even dressed yet. Hell, I haven’t even showered.” Gabe entered the kitchen wearing nothing but a short white terry wrap around his waist. “It smells like heaven in here.”
Kevin grinned. “Mr. Smileypants is almost peeking out.”
“Nah. You used him up last night, but if you keep staring at him like that, he might raise the drapery.”
“Then I won’t stare. These eggs can’t be allowed to get cold. I worked too hard on them.” He placed two sizzling brown sausage links on each plate, then added slices of fresh, fragrant cantaloupe.
“Mmm. Those plates look like photos in a cookbook.”
“Thanks.” Kevin picked up the plates and took them to the kitchen table.
Gabe filled mugs with coffee and brought them to the table. He slid into the chair opposite Kevin then tilted his head toward the door to the dining and living rooms. “All quiet on the western front?”
“I’d like to tell you I was a brave boy and looked, but you’ll notice that the door is closed.”
“This food’s fantastic,” Gabe said. “And I think you were incredibly brave to come into the kitchen by yourself. Man, just looking at that door makes me nervous.”
“Shush. Eat. If you say one more word, I’m taking my eggs to eat in the bedroom.”
“Sorry.”
They made small talk, and quickly forgot their fears until they heard the gunshot. The thud. “What the hell was that?” Gabe whispered. “It was in there. Wasn’t it?” He nodded toward the living room.
“They’re back.”
“I’m going to look.”
“Gabe, no—”
“It’s our house. We can’t just stop using half of it.” He stood up and went to the door.
Kevin followed, tapped Gabe on the back. “No, let’s go through the main hall. That way we can run like hell if we need to.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Another gunshot echoed hollowly. “Fucking Cockburns,” Kevin whispered, trying for levity, failing miserably.
“Come on.” Gabe walked into the wide hall that led to the rest of the house. He turned toward the living room.
&nb
sp; “Gabe, don’t you want to put on some pants first?”
“Why? What are the ghosts gonna do, Kev?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t take chances with the jewels, you know?”
Gabe turned and looked at him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “It’ll be okay. Wait here. I’m just going to take a quick peek around the corner.”
“I can’t talk you out of it?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
Petrified, scared shitless, and a little excited, Kevin followed, glad he couldn’t see through Gabe’s broad back.
“Holy shit.” Gabe’s back stiffened.
“What? What do you see?”
“I see both of them. Carrie’s floating around in there near the windows,” Gabe said in a low, barely controlled voice, “and old Jason, he’s just lying there on the floor over toward the dining room. There’s not much head left on that boy. Okay, he’s fading out. Want to look?”
“What about Carrie?”
“She’s starting to float up into the ceiling like before.”
“Tell me when her head’s gone.”
“Okay.” A few seconds passed. “Head’s gone.”
Kevin steeled himself and peered around Gabe just in time to see the dim image of Jason fade out completely. Carrie’s legs and feet disappeared in seconds.
“Man,” Gabe whispered. “We’ve gotta get Will over here. I want to see his face so bad, I’m not even scared.”
“Okay, but I think we’d better find an exorcist or something because I’m not going back in that living room. Except to see what Will does.”
“We could go in now,” Gabe said.
“What if they come back?”
“Don’t they have to recharge their batteries or something first?”
“Okay.” Kevin rushed in, just like he would jump into a swimming pool in April when he knew the water was too cold, all at once. He took a bow then ran back to the hall.
“Let’s get dressed.”
They returned to the master bedroom. “Do you think there are any dead babies in the little bedrooms?” Kevin asked.
“No. And don’t you think it either.”
40
“It was a weird night last night,” Maggie said as she and Will sat down at a picnic bench hidden among Monterey pines and shrubs near the Crescent’s shore. She had brought two donuts apiece, and the thermos held four cups of coffee, so they’d decided to have a little before their walk. She poured coffee that smelled delicious, and passed him a cup.
“Thanks.” He pulled a couple donuts and napkins from the white paper sack, handed one over, then blew on the steaming coffee. “How was last night weird for you?”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly weird, but it felt that way for a few minutes. Anteater woke me up, all excited. He just wanted to show me an ant invasion in the kitchen.”
“That doesn’t sound weird. Ants are caviar to that little guy.”
“No accounting for taste.” Maggie made a face. “But I think I’d rather eat ants than caviar, too.”
“That’s what I like about you, Mags. You’re a cheap date.” Will grinned, then asked, “So nothing was really weird then?” He sounded hopeful.
She hesitated. She hadn’t a doubt that he remembered the “dream” that scared his cats, but how could she get him to spill it? Drama, she decided. “You didn’t hear the dogs howling last night?”
“No.”
“I don’t know if they were howling before Anteater woke me up. He jumped on me, a regular body slam, about popped my heart out of my throat. I opened my eyes and he stared at me, then he let out a howl that sounded like it belonged on the English moors.”
“Okay. That’s pretty weird. What about the cats? Did they run off?”
“No. They looked daggers at Anteater, then freaked a little when all the other dogs started howling nearby, but they were pretty cool. Never left the bed. A flock of birds screeched bloody murder at the height of things and for about five minutes I felt like I was in a horror movie. Then everything went back to normal and Anteater led me to the ants.”
“I’m sure the birds were a coincidence.”
“Probably.”
“The howling probably was, too,” Will added, as his brain did its compulsive search for logic. Not that she disapproved, except when he poked holes in scary movies while they were watching them. “He came and woke you up to show you the ants, then heard something out of our hearing range, and howled. Maybe something on a military or police chopper, like Gabe was saying the other night.”
“Could be.” She studied him, trying to will him to talk. She could see trouble in his eyes. Maybe it was nothing more than what he claimed—that he’d yelled and scared the cats. That would trouble him. She had given them to him after his last divorce, just after he moved into his ranch house, begging him to kitten-sit for a few days while she found them homes, knowing he’d never let them go, even before he knew. He had never had animals as a child—there was one dog, early on, but something had happened to it and she was almost certain that Pete was what happened. And then there was college, no time for pets, and then he married one harridan after another. No animals allowed. He’d spent his life hanging around her parents’ house and then her house, petting animals that didn’t belong to him. It was touching, how he would relax and almost purr himself when he had a cat in his lap. After he was married, he continued to retreat to her house or accompany her to the little shelter she oversaw, or even go to her clinic on rounds. Observing the pleasure he took in cradling an ill animal, or playing with a well one, especially if it was feline, she sometimes felt such a rush of conflicting feelings that she could barely stand it. Sometimes seeing the stress go out of him, witnessing the constant watchful stiffness leave his body, made her want to slap him and scream at him to give himself a life, to stop punishing himself for heaven-knew-what by marrying women who were never content, who nit-picked and insulted him, who wouldn’t even let him have a damned cat.
She kept her mouth shut and kept shooting down her own incipient relationships. Though she knew the two of them couldn’t be romantically involved—they talked about it and decided (mostly Will decided in his logical fashion) that they were too sibling-like for that—she never cared about another human enough to get very involved with him. Maybe I never gave anyone a chance. A few times she had wondered if she was even attracted to men, but all she had to do was look to her dreams to know the answer to that.
And Will was right. Up until they were eight or nine, they’d taken baths together. They’d had belching contests and tried lighting farts, and when they reached adolescence, they discussed their crushes and tried to figure out what the “bases” were. Later, they went on to discuss everything from masturbation to differences in female and male orgasms, to the humiliation of intimate medical exams. He said they were like brother and sister, but she felt more like she had a gay best friend who wasn’t gay. Sometimes she’d end up crying herself to sleep because she knew he loved women, but didn’t seem to think she fit the description. She got over it, watching his torturous marriages. Will had his own problems, but didn’t everybody? Especially psychologists?
But with the end of the last marriage, he had at least finally learned what was bad for him. She hoped he’d remember the lessons.
So, while giving him the cats was something she had done out of friendship, she also knew that in giving him companions, he would be less likely to fall for another ice bitch out of loneliness. And there was more—she knew that once Will finally had his own feline companion, he would never give it up for some frostbitten woman who would demand such a thing. It would, he told her once, be the same as giving up part of yourself and how anyone could ask someone they claimed to love to do that was beyond him. She agreed and said no one who loved you could do that. He likened it to asking a parent to give away a child.
Knowing that about him made her feel—well, she didn’t know what it ma
de her feel, but giving him those three kittens was the best thing she had ever done. It even brought them closer together, which she’d never considered possible. A new dimension of friendship grew as she helped him raise those little orange furballs. Maggie knew herself well. She had never desired human children, but this feeling she shared with Will was her version of the drive. Gabe and Kevin had joked about them parenting the cats ever since they laid eyes on the kittens, but Maggie had never thought twice about it before, at least not consciously. Now she realized that it was no joke. They really had become parents.
Too bad we can’t risk trying more.
“You look like you’re going to either cry or throw up, Mags.”
“What?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing. Let’s walk.” She stood and put the cap on the thermos. “You want to leave this stuff in the car or take it with us?”
“Car. Otherwise I’ll eat the donut before we get back then I’ll try to con you out of yours. You should’ve bought a half dozen.”
“You don’t exercise enough for two, let alone three,” she said as they put everything in her car. “You have to think of your health for the sake of your furry children.” Instantly, she regretted the words, positive he’d know what she’d been thinking moments before.
But he just chuckled. “Okay. You’re right. Tell you what. For the sake of my children, we can walk fast.”
“Power walk?”
“Almost. Not quite that serious.”
“It’s a deal. Let’s go.” She headed for the shore. “I wonder where all the birds are this morning? I don’t think I’ve heard one since we arrived.”
Will stopped walking and looked up at the sky. She saw him shiver.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I guess a crow just walked over my grave. Let’s go.”
41
Up with the sparrows. That’s what Pete Banning was, day in and day out, and there were plenty of sparrows in the trees outside his home on Hadrian’s Way, the most exclusive street in the Heights, which was what locals called the neighborhood, never mind that it was perched on the eastern inner lip of town. Back when the name was first used, nothing was built on the taller outer lips.
The Forgotten Page 14
