by Sara Clancy
Ruby bolted upright. In the dim light, the door seemed far larger than it ever had before. Something dark and monstrous. Dread sloshed in her stomach. She couldn’t pinpoint why she felt so exposed until she noticed the bottomless abyss beyond the curtain. And the silence. The steady hum of the generator was gone. Why are the floodlights off? The thought screamed inside her skull and held her frozen in place. The knocking came again.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Each one separated from the others by a long pause. She flinched with every blow. Then there was nothing. Nothing beyond the howl of the wind and the groan of the shivering trees. Someone’s knocking on the door. It sounded so simple when she thought the words. But it made no sense. Not here. Not now. This time it made her heart squeeze.
Slowly, she loosened her feet free of the sleeping bags and stood up. Teeth nipped at her ankle. With a choked yelp, she lunged back up, the mattress bouncing and the box springs creaking. On all fours, she inched forward and peered over the edge. Bannock’s head poked out from under the bed. He blinked up at her, ears flat, head low. A pitiful whimper worked its way out of his throat before he wiggled back out of sight. Ruby was struck with the sudden, intense urge to follow him. She couldn’t place why, and that confusion left her still until a voice called to her.
“Excuse me, miss.” It was soft and unassuming. Smooth like polished stone. And hearing it made her stomach twist up so tightly that she almost gagged. “We need to use the bathroom. Can we come in?”
Ruby started at the door, unable to reply even if she had wanted to. The request was too surreal. And it took her a moment to realize what was wrong with it. It didn’t rise and fall as it should. There wasn’t any inflection. Just a single, unchanged monotone that sent a cluster of spiders skittering down her back.
“Miss?”
“There isn’t a bathroom in here,” she forced herself to reply.
The effort left her breathless, as if every last molecule of oxygen had been stripped from the room within an instant. Her hands clenched at the bed sheets and she sucked at the air, trying to get her lungs to work once more. There was only silence as she strained against her body. Then, as if she had never spoken, the voice came again.
“Excuse me, miss. We need to use the phone. Can we come in?”
Her jaw clenched shut until her teeth ached. She didn’t know who was standing outside her door. She didn’t know why. But she knew with unwavering certainty that she didn’t want them inside. Nor did she want them to know that she didn’t have a way to contact the outside world. Still, a reply boiled up inside her, rolling like sludge up her throat to press behind her teeth. She bit her lip to keep it back. Droplets of blood swelled across her tongue, but she kept her silence.
All the while, however, her body had been moving. Her skin felt clammy and cold as she inched her way off of the bed. She shivered against the sensation as her foot pressed down on the floor. Without thought, without permission, her legs began to carry her across the room. Dragging her closer to the door even as she longed to cower away. The emerging flutters of panic that filled her chest cavity were made all the stronger as Bannock began to whimper behind her. She managed to glance over her shoulder, trying to catch sight of him again. But he remained in his hiding spot, far out of view, with only his sniveling mewls to let her know he was there at all. It was fear in that sound that made her pause.
“Excuse me, miss. We need to use the phone. Can we come in?”
The repetition came in that same tranquil monotone that somehow still managed to rise, crisp and clear, over the growling storm. Despite her mind screaming for her to do the exact opposite, Ruby took the last few steps. She stood there, staring at the chair that held the door in place. Don’t touch it. Don’t answer. Don’t open the door! Still, she found herself reaching out with trembling hands. The chair legs scraped across the floor as she slid it free. Bannock whimpered, his high-pitched protests marked by his nails skittering against the floorboards. He was pushing himself further back under the bed. She could hear him cowering into the far corner. Still, she couldn’t stop herself, her fingertips from rising. The latch was cool to the touch as she slowly slid it open. Don’t let them in! Ice pressed out from her core, melting against her now overheated skin to create a sensation that left her dizzy.
The door handle didn’t feel real as she cradled it in her palm. The sharp clack of the metal latch working jarred her from her thoughts. Slowly, she inched open the door. Snowflakes poured inside, carried on a rampaging wind that pushed back her hair, ravaged her neck, and slithered through the gaps in her knitted socks. Then the door pulled against her grip and the screen door rattled. She had forgotten about the shoelace. With its slack used up, the screen door pulled against its frame and the wooden door was kept in place, open only a few inches. It was more than enough for the arctic breeze to slap her in the face. Startled, she sucked in a full, rich breath and blinked out into the darkness.
Ruby’s lungs squeezed tight at the sight of the child standing on the doorstep. Firelight spilled through the gap to drench the stranger’s feet and creep up his legs. But it never rose high enough to illuminate his head fully. Light gray shadows covered his shoulders and the lower half of his downturned face. But, with the hood of his sweater pulled up, everything beyond the tip of his nose hid under a cluster of impenetrable darkness. Ruby’s stomach twisted and churned, the contents becoming as thick as tar. She swallowed, working down the lump as it lurched its way up.
It took her a moment to place even one reason why the child’s presence would provoke such a strong reaction. All she could come up with was his clothes. A loose hooded sweater, a thin pair of jeans, a worn pair of sneakers. None of it could offer him any kind of protection against the elements, yet it didn’t seem to affect him at all. The little boy, who could barely pass for being any older than eleven, just stood there as if the wind and snow barely touched him. Then she noticed his skin.
Pale and pallid, and didn’t carry a single line, smooth as plastic. More like a mask coating his features than like living flesh. The boy didn’t move. Not so much as a flinch or a shiver. Ruby found herself watching his chest, waiting for the rise and fall of his breathing. She stared. She waited. But she could never tell if he was actually breathing.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Her attention snapped to the boy’s face. She watched it move. Observed as each sound passed his lips. Never once did his lips, or his skin, or any single feature of his face move like they should.
“We need to use the phone. Can we come in?”
The same words. The same monotone. And it was as if her mind was slowly shutting down. Her fingers shifted against the handle. They caught on the shoelace tied between the doors, making the wood door sway and the screen shutter. The sound rattled between them. The little boy didn’t move.
“Can we come in?”
As if this was a signal they had been waiting for, two figures took a step towards the cabin door to emerge from the murky depths of the night. Just like the boy, they both stood with their faces turned to the floor. And like him, neither of them was dressed for the cold. Ruby could only use their size to guess at their ages. The one on the boy’s right looked to be a girl and couldn’t have been any older than four. She too had a thin hoodie, this one a faded pink. Long curls of platinum white hair slipped out around her neck. It was upon noticing that her bare toes were the same flawless shade as the rest of her, that Ruby realized they didn’t have hues or tones. Every bit of their skin that she could see was the exact same shade. Like living dolls. The thought passed through her head as she shifted her gaze to the girl on the boy’s left.
She looked to be around seven, perhaps a little older. The beanie she wore had two long tassels that drifted in the wind. Her hair was arranged into one neat braid and her arms, exposed under the short sleeves of her t-shirt, remained stone still at her sides as the snow gathered against them. From the little she could see
of their faces, both shared the boy’s unnatural humanity.
Ruby was blindsided with the sudden urge to fling the door wide open and bundle the children up from the cold. As if sensing her reaction, all three of the children took another step closer. It brought the boy further into the light while the two girls remained obscured by the shadows. The proximity made her stumble back, a profound sense of primal dread burrowing down into her bone marrow. An electric snap of red-hot fear sliced Ruby in two when she noticed that their new position also barred the door. She was trapped. Don’t let them come in, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Close the door, now!
“Where did you come from?” The question had trembled from Ruby’s lips before she realized that she had spoken.
Without lifting their faces to look at her, all three children raised their left arms and pointed with bare fingers to some far off point. Ruby’s eyes flicked to the side, but there was nothing to see in the encroaching darkness. She turned back to the children. Her jaw clenched around a startled cry when she found that they had edged closer again. The little boy was now only a breath away from the decrepit screen door. It seemed as if all he had to do was touch it and it would crumble away.
“Are you Peter’s nephew?” she asked.
All three lowered their arms and kept their eyes fixed onto the ground. They remained silent.
“Where are your parents?”
It was the little boy that answered. “Excuse me, miss. We need to use the phone. Can we come in?”
Ruby let out a shaky breath. “What are your names?”
Once again, only the boy answered. “We need to use the phone. Can we come in?”
“It’s late and cold. You should go home.”
“We need to use the phone,” the boy replied, his voice louder than it had been before. “Can we come in?”
“You can all tell Peter that this was a good prank. You really scared me. But you need to go home now. And tell him to turn the floodlights back on, please.”
It was all she could think to say. Without the lights, it was possible for her neighbor to park his car even within a few inches from the cabin and she would never see it. And this wouldn’t be the first time she had been the butt of someone’s joke. There was only one glaring problem with her theory. And that was the children. They weren’t natural. She could feel it, pressing on the back of her mind, screaming through her veins and vibrating through her bones. There was something very wrong with these children.
When the boy repeated his line, she found her fingers squeezing the door handle. Every bit of her urged to slam the door closed, and she tried to do it. Her arm trembled with the strain, her knuckles turned white and throbbed with her heartbeat, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t move. Unable to move her eyes off of the little boy, she could still hear Bannock’s growl. It was both terrified and savage at the same time. Her heart thundered and hot tears burned the corners of her eyes. Don’t let them in! Don’t let them in! Don’t let them in! The thought filled her head to drown out the boy’s voice.
“No.”
“Miss–”
“You can’t come in,” her voice cracked around each word. It hurt to speak. “Go home.”
She threw every ounce of her concentration into closing the door. Finally, her body listened. The children noticed the movement. They snapped their heads up in unison. Ruby froze, her hand fumbling from the door as she stumbled back. Their eyes were pools of liquid onyx. No whites. No rings of color. Just a sheet of slick obsidian set within their artificial faces.
“You have to let us in,” the boy said firmly.
His eyes consumed her mind. They swam through her head and chased off all other thoughts before they had time to form. There was a vague twinge of pain from her battered shin as she stepped forward. She felt the material of her pajama shirt slide against her shoulder as she lifted her hand. The cool metal bit against her sweat-slicked palm as she closed her fingers around it. Ruby felt it all but none of it had any meaning. Black eyes held her captive as she pressed down on the handle. A soft click sounded and the children pushed forward expectantly.
Shifting closer, Ruby’s side caught the shoestring. The screen door smacked against its frame while the wood door slammed into her back. A spike of pain snapped out across her hips as the handle collided against her spine. Flinching, the moment of pain cleared Ruby’s mind of the ebony fog. She hurled herself back, her body moving more like a marionette. He did that, her mind screamed. He made me do that. How did he do that? She pattered against the door and pulled out to the side. Catching herself before she fell, Ruby clutched the door with both hands and pulled back to keep the screen in place.
“What are you?” she choked, her eyes flickering between the three creatures before her.
They remained silent. Watching her with unblinking, hideous eyes.
“What are you?!”
They stared at her, trying to catch her gaze. She could feel their presence pulling and slashing at the edges of her mind, trying to claw their way back in.
“Go away.”
“You have to let us in,” the boy’s voice was louder. Stronger.
Ruby shook her head, eyes on the floor.
“You have to let us in!”
Her mind was starting to crack under their assault. Bit by bit, they were seeping inside and her hand began to lift once again, drawing closer to the door handle. With the last ounces of her mental strength, she resisted the magnetic pull long enough to grab the edge of the interior door. Ruby slammed it closed. Without their eyes upon her, it was easier to think.
The boy screamed, his voice rising to a shrill, ear-splitting noise. He pounded on the door, demanding she let them in, the same words taking on a more piercing tone with each rendition. It drove into her skull like molten spikes and her knees buckled under the strain. Snatching up the chair, she crammed it back under the handle and lodged it in place.
“Leave me alone!” Ruby screamed. “You’re not allowed in!”
Within a split second, it all stopped. The endless pounding. The shrieking demands. There were only the wind and her sobbed breaths to break the silence. Falling to her knees, Ruby pulled herself over to the fireplace. She restocked it, adding log after log until the blazing glow destroyed the shadows within the cabin. With her back to the fire, she hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes darting from the door to the window. They were the only two points of entry. Which one would they come through?
A panicked yelp cracked from her as light suddenly streamed in through the curtains. She started at it. Waiting. Breathless. It took a long moment for her to realize that a soft hum had added itself to the night. The light wasn’t a threat but the floodlights coming back on were. Curiosity pulled her to her feet and she crept closer to the window. She pulled up the very edge of the curtain and peeked out. The storm raged on, filling the air with tiny specks of white. She couldn’t see anything beyond that.
With the light pouring inside, the doors locked, and the flames burning away the chill, her adrenaline slowly ebbed away. Exhaustion pressed down on her until she could almost feel her bones crushing under the weight. She had never felt so tired. So completely and utterly drained.
Curling up on her bed, Ruby tried to make some kind of sense out of what had just happened. There had to be an explanation, an avenue, an excuse that would offer her some comfort. But she could only find two points that made her breathe easy, and she didn’t know if they should even do that. The first was that the dogs were barking. Every so often, she could hear a sleep mumble or a lazy yap, but they were there, and they weren’t afraid. The second came when Bannock pulled himself free from under the bed. With a little whine, he crawled up onto the mattress and pressed up against her side. She drew him into a tight hug and stared at the wall until the sun rose.
Chapter 8
A lifetime passed before the sun inched above the horizon. Ruby watched as light seeped around the edges of the curtains and painted the walls with
a pinkish hue. The encounter with the children hadn’t left her mind for a second. But with repetition came doubts. She questioned everything she had seen and felt. It all swelled within her mind, the sharp edges of fear dulling as she ground it against logic and reason. By the time the light hit the floor, she had convinced herself that it must have all been a prank. What the hell is Peter’s problem? she asked the question over and over until anger simmered under her skin.
Throwing the sleeping bag off of her, she pulled herself into her snowsuit and washed her face, a plan forming in her mind. The moment she had finished her morning chores, she would go confront Peter and tell him to keep his relatives out of the yard. Her bravado wavered as she removed her chair barricade, but she clenched her teeth against it and held tight to her frustration.
The blistering cold smacked her in the face as she trudged out into the half foot of snow that blanketed the earth. Rounding the corner of the tent, she was almost among the dogs before she saw it. The gaping hole in the wire mesh of the playpen fence. Running as fast as the snow and suit would allow, she searched the pen, the yard and forest beyond, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse of either Nugget or Echo. She hesitated when she reached the gaping hole and spotted the blood that tipped the broken wire. Taking care not to touch the sharp barbs, she slipped through the space and hurried towards the doghouse, calling for the two pups with growing desperation. Blood spattered the ground, discolored and dulled under the layers of snow. There was so much blood. And each breath of wind stirred the snow to expose more. But there was no sign of the dogs.
“Nugget!”
Her breath misted before her as she spun in tight circles, scanning every inch of the frozen land around her.
“Echo!”
The other dogs skulked in their houses and refused to move beyond poking their heads out. Without them, a crushing, unnatural silence hung over the world. Not knowing what else to do, Ruby called for the dogs again. Her voice echoed off the trees and rolled unanswered into oblivion. Wolves. The thought came into her mind, followed by the full force of reason, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. The kids. Her blood thickened into ice with the certainty that came with the notion. She had worked hard to convince herself that it had all been a prank. That they had simply been having some harmless fun at her expense. But harmless children don’t brutalize puppies.
