Latham's Landing

by Tara Fox Hall

  “Did he tell you about the place we just visited?”

  “The Sea Room,” Marie supplied, kneeling to tie her shoe. “Latham built it for his wife.”

  Sam didn’t reply.

  “It was very beautiful,” Marie added. “Nikki should’ve come with us. She missed seeing it—”

  “She can see it from the house,” Sam croaked, pointing with a shaking finger. “Look.”

  Marie glanced up at his wide frightened eyes, then back at the Sea Room. The glass house was alive with blinding light in the mist, shining like a sun in the midst of clouds. The sky darkened slightly, even as mist rose up from both sides of the bridge, enveloping them in soggy cool air.

  “C’mon!” Marie shouted. Grabbing Sam’s cold hand, she pulled him along, stumbling back towards the main house. They clutched at the stone railing, moving slowly forward as the mist grew thicker and thicker.

  “I can’t see a thing,” Marie said, squeezing Sam’s hand. “Do you have your flashlight?”

  Sam didn’t answer.

  Marie turned to him. “Sam—?”

  Dead eyes stared back at her in a bloated face, the sagging mouth drooling water as his hand clamped down on hers.

  Marie let out a shriek, struggling. Sam swayed, then fell into her, his dead weight sending them both back over the low stone railing. Marie let out one last shriek as they toppled together into the waves.

  Damn woman, Sam thought irritably. He’d only said it was smarter not to get wet and offered his services like a polite guy should. Next thing he knew, Marie had stormed off into the rain. Well, he’d be damned if he went out there after her. It was much smarter to stay here and wait out the storm. It wasn’t as if Daryl was going to leave them here, not in this weather.

  Sam chuckled. Daryl probably didn’t even know how to start the motor. No, he and Nikki were probably sitting around the fireplace right now making up ghost stories to go with those pictures. What a lame ass. If he were there with Nikki right now, he’d be doing a hell of a lot more than telling her stories.

  “Oh, be nice,” Sam said aloud. Daryl wasn’t a bad guy, just a little on the bookish side. They’d been friends since grade school. He deserved some slack, especially after all those essay papers he’d helped Sam write…

  The storm abruptly intensified, rain pelting the glass. Suddenly there came the sound of footsteps below him ascending the staircase.

  He grinned widely, then turned. “Told you you’d come back—”

  A strange woman stood before him. She was beautiful, dressed in a filmy white negligee, the material moving lightly as if in a breeze.

  Sam got to his feet. “Who are you?”

  “You wanted company,” the woman said sensuously, fluffing her short curls languidly. “You offered yours.”

  “Not to you,” Sam said, backing away. “Are you a ghost?”

  “I’m a woman,” the figure said emphatically, walking closer. “You’re a man. Why do you fear me?”

  Sam backed away, even as she advanced. He trembled as her cool fingers touched him, stroking his cheek. Her large dark eyes gazed into his longingly.

  “What do you want?” he stammered.

  “Only a kiss,” she said sadly, her eyes sorrowful. “Please.”

  Sam recoiled, pressing himself against the wall and shutting his eyes. Her cool arms enfolded him, then came the touch of soft lips kissing his cheeks. He slipped his hands between them, trying to push her away.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t send me away.” She hugged him gently, then began to cry.

  If she was a ghost, she was the most human feeling ghost he’d ever heard of. Sam shifted uneasily, then awkwardly hugged the woman. She cried harder, her tears oddly hot as they soaked his shirt.

  “I’m afraid,” the woman whispered.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Sam said firmly, patting her back.

  The woman looked up at him, her face tear-streaked. Then she lunged, kissing him full on the lips. Sam started, his head knocking the glass hard as rapture flooded him, his nerves singing with emotion and pleasure. The woman kissed him harder, even as he crushed her to him, his passion erupting white hot as they sank down together to the floor.

  God, this was the best kiss of his life! It was perfect, it was all encompassing, it was everything—!

  Sam bucked against the woman, his sudden orgasm intense and immediate, his mouth bloody. Then he went rigid, sharp pain in his chest white hot. He broke free of the woman, gasping for breath hopelessly, his feeble movements frantic. He twitched twice, then sagged down on the floor.

  The woman watched him for a moment, smiled contentedly, then got to her feet. Light filled her, illuminating the room, the mirrors and glass reflecting the searing light until the room burned like a torch in the windswept sea.

  “They’re not here,” Nikki said irritably. “What are we going to do, Daryl? You’ve called the glass house, and no one answers. We spent the last few hours going through this whole damn house yet again and there’s no sign of them.” She swallowed, not wanting to mention the one room they’d avoided returning to. “The boat’s packed with all the gear. Now the sun is setting.”

  “We’re going to give them until full dark,” Daryl said for the second time. “They may be stuck out in the Sea Room. I told Marie about it last night, and she wanted to make a couple drawings. The storm is still raging anyway, Nikki. We can’t use the boat, and risk it capsizing or breaking up on the rocks. We’ll probably have to stay here tonight and head back in the morning.”

  “Aren’t you worried anymore about being caught?” she retorted.

  “Right now that’s the least of my worries,” he replied. “I’m more worried that the boat’s going to wash offshore in this storm and strand us here.”

  “We tied it down with rope from the shed—”

  “And we tied the doors last night, too,” Daryl replied evenly. “I should’ve brought some holy water or something.”

  Nikki made a face. “Since when are you a believer?”

  “I’m not. I’d be feeling a hell of a lot more at ease if I was.”

  “I’d feel better if there was a real bathroom,” Nikki said sarcastically. “Remind me next time you ask for a favor not to help. Even my boyfriend’s shitty outhouses are preferable to—”

  There was a sudden scrabbling at the front door. Nikki let out a cry, both she and Daryl turning in fear.

  A loud ragged scream sounded. “Let me in!”

  “Don’t do it!” Nikki cried.

  Daryl was already moving. “That’s Marie.” He went to the door, undid the makeshift barricade, and opened the door. A sodden figure fell in the door, clutching at him. Nikki slammed the door, quickly.

  “Marie, what happened?” Daryl asked.

  “Sam’s dead,” she rasped, pushing back her wet tangled hair from wild eyes. “He walked and talked, but he was dead.”

  “What happened to Sam?” Nikki demanded. “Where is he?”

  “Dead,” Marie said hollowly. “Dead, dead, dead—”

  Daryl slapped her hard, making her head rock back. Marie let out a cry, then began to sob quietly.

  “Stay here with her,” Daryl said, going to the door. “I’m going to get the boat. We’re getting out of here.”

  Nikki held Marie, flinching at her clammy wet clothes. “What about the storm?”

  “Better to risk drowning,” Daryl said, then darted out the door.

  Nikki turned to Marie. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “She can’t,” a soft voice said near her ear. “But I can.”

  Nikki let out a scream, scrambling away. Beside her stood a woman dressed in a long green gown, her short curly hair done up in jewels and bows. She was smiling, her dark eyes lit with reddish tints that glowed in the dim room.

  “What do you want with us?” Marie screeched.

  “You know,” the strange woman said, smiling. She spread her hands, light rising from her and illuminati
ng the room.

  “Leave us alone!” Nikki screamed.

  The woman smiled, advancing, menacing excitement infusing her dark eyes.

  Thunder rocked the room, as lightning split the sky. The woman began to raise her hands, the odd light that was filling her intensifying, the brightness becoming blinding.

  Gunshots rang out. The menacing woman recoiled, then flickered, her light wavering.

  “Run for the boat,” Daryl screamed, firing again. “Run!”

  Nikki grabbed hold of Marie, then ran out into the storm. Daryl fired again into the apparition, the bullets thudding into the floorboards beneath her.

  The woman smiled, then lowered her hands. Abruptly, she disappeared.

  Daryl ran outside. Water was rising rapidly, spreading over the island. It had engulfed the granite landing and the stone wall, and was now lapping at the porch steps. Amazingly, the boat had stayed tethered, but the tie was now a few feet underwater. Nikki was in the boat trying to start the motor, Marie hanging onto the side trying to climb in. Large pounding waves were hitting the boat, threatening to smash it free of its mooring. It would be tossed like driftwood. If they capsized now in such shallow water…

  “Stop!” Daryl screamed futilely. “It’s too rough! The water’s too shallow! Come back!”

  “They’ll be back,” a comforting voice said. “Bet your boots.”

  Daryl turned slowly. A middle-aged man stood beside him to his left, dressed in a dirty brown workman’s uniform.

  “No one gets off,” the man said, turning to Daryl with a smile. “I didn’t.” The right side of his face was caved in, his skull smashed, brain and blood smeared and dripping. “Stop trying—”

  Daryl brought the gun up and fired. The man disappeared as swiftly as he’d come, the bullet thudding into the stone, chipping it. Shaken, he whirled back to the boat.

  It was gone.

  “Help!” a desperate voice shouted.

  Yards out, a figure was swimming hard, the current forcing her toward jutting rocks. Kicking powerful legs, it made a last frantic lunge toward shore.

  Daryl dropped the gun and waded in quickly, grabbing a reaching arm. “Marie!” He helped her up onto the porch.

  Marie sank down, shivering. “Nikki’s dead,” she coughed. “She’s on the rocks, I saw her hit them. I barely escaped myself.”

  Daryl glanced back. Nikki’s body floated nearby, her head smashed in, her limbs waving in the churning water. “What happened?”

  “I dove into the waves just as the boat went over. Nikki kicked hard. She was fighting to swim against the current. It dragged her back to the rocks.” Marie coughed. “I’d have been killed too, if I wasn’t a professional swimmer.”

  “It got you more than your scholarship,” Daryl replied. “It saved your life.”

  “I’m not going back inside,” Marie said, coughing again. “I’m going to swim for it, as soon as I catch my breath.”

  “We’ll drown in the water,” Daryl said calmly. “We have to go back inside and wait out the storm. It can’t rise too much higher.”

  Marie looked at him, incredulous. “How do you know for sure?”

  “This is a man-made lake. This house has stood here for almost a hundred years. We’re safest indoors, either in the house, in that Sea Room, or in that little boathouse near the bridge.”

  Marie sank down, still coughing.

  “Marie, we can handle one ghost,” Daryl said, clutching her hand. “Nikki and I already blocked the doors again, and we have enough food for another night. The storm can’t last much longer. We’ll be okay as long as we work together.” He paused. “When I shot the ghost, she backed off. Maybe objects disrupt her materializing—”

  “The boat’s gone,” Marie said hollowly.

  “We have to stick together,” Daryl said raggedly, his eyes flashing angrily. “Maybe there’s another boat—”

  “That’s your plan?” Marie said sarcastically. “Our friends are dead, we’re surrounded by ghosts, but we’re okay, because you’ve got a plan.” She began to laugh, the sound brittle and cracked.

  “Screaming and having hysterics isn’t going to help us,” Daryl said, gritting his teeth. “Being calm and thorough might.”

  “And it might not,” Marie said darkly. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.”

  “I saw that woman,” Daryl yelled, losing his composure. “Stop being a bitch. Do you think she’s gone? Whatever that ghost wanted, it wasn’t to light our way home!”

  Marie leapt to her feet. “Are you trying to scare me, ass? Is that why you dragged us all out here, to use us as experiments in your damned paper?”

  “Maybe I was hoping for something to happen,” Daryl yelled back. “And it did. I’ve got a paper now, maybe even a bestselling novel.”

  Marie stared at him.

  Daryl held out his hand to her. “Come inside with me. Let’s get our stuff, and head to the boathouse—”

  “No,” Marie said, stooping to pick up the gun. “I’m not waiting. I’m getting off this island now.” She pointed the gun at him. “But you aren’t. Get inside.”

  Daryl gaped at her.

  “This was your idea,” Marie hissed. “You wanted to know about fear. Here’s your answer, Daryl. Go inside.”

  “No,” Daryl said calmly. “You won’t shoot me—”

  Marie fired. The bullet took a wad of flesh from Daryl’s arm. He screamed.

  “Go in,” she growled. “Or die out here instead right now.”

  Daryl gave a final anguished look, then went inside. Marie shut the door.

  “Good play,” a charming voice said in her ear.

  Marie whirled around. A handsome young man stood there, dressed in a riding suit. Behind him a bay horse stepped nervously, the leather of the English saddle he bore shining. The water was receding.

  Light suddenly shone from within the house, then steadily grew brighter. Daryl began to scream, pounding on the door.

  “You’ll fit right in here,” the handsome man said with a wink. He smiled widely, then bared long white teeth. He held out his hand. “Come.”

  Marie took a deep breath, and fired the gun. The blast knocked her backward into the house, even as the menacing ghost rippled, its wail of frustration loud as the gunshot. She landed on the floor, even as the gun slipped from her hands.

  Daryl scrambled toward her on all fours, grasped the gun, and fired several times at the looming woman in green. She gave an angry snarl, and disappeared.

  The gun clicked on empty. Daryl threw it down. “Grab your stuff!” he shouted. “Hurry!”

  Marie grabbed her bag and lantern, then ran after Daryl. They slogged through the retreating water, then up a sharp incline, their feet finally finding steps. Gasping, they climbed, finally emerging on a small granite landing. A small garage stood there.

  Daryl tried the door. It was padlocked. Grabbing a loose piece of granite, he smashed the padlock off. Quickly, then stumbled inside and shut the door. Exhausted, they sank down to the concrete floor.

  “We should be safe here,” Daryl said. “That woman is the dangerous one, and I think she’s confined to the house.”

  “But she’s not the only one,” Marie whispered. She pulled paper out of her pocket, and handed it to him.

  Daryl opened up the soggy paper carefully. On it was a drawing of a riderless horse standing on the long stone bridge to the Sea Room, broken reins dangling, its bright saddle askew. Rain pooled at its feet, lightning in the sky around a full moon illuminating the wet stones where a crumpled figure lay in a riding outfit, his limbs twisted and broken.

  “I saw him outside,” Marie whispered. “I thought I’d drawn him from my imagination. But he was real. And there was a girl playing a flute on the shore—”

  “There was another one I saw on the shore, too,” Daryl said, putting several large plastic boxes in front of the door. He went deeper into the shadowed interior. There came the sound of creaking metal. “This boathouse is relativ
ely new, compared to the rest of Cairn Isle. There are no windows, just this back door and the overhead one. There’s no electric opener. It’s manual, and locked just like the other door was. If there is one non-haunted safe place here, this should be it.”

  Marie managed a smile. “So what’s the new plan?”

  “Stay here tonight, and then light the place on fire in the morning,” Daryl said. “They’ll see it for miles. We’ll also see if that small inflatable raft is any good. Either way, someone is bound to pick us up. We just have to make it to dawn.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Thanks for coming back for me.”

  Marie cast her eyes down. “I was an ass for leaving. I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Daryl said, yawning. “Do you want some food? I can take the first watch, if you’re tired.” He offered her some bread. “This and peanut butter was all I had time to grab.”

  “Thanks,” Marie said gratefully.

  They divided up the food, then wolfed it down.

  “Sleep,” Daryl said, leaning back against the side of the shed. “I’ll watch.”

  Marie sank down on the cold floor. “I’m sorry again, Daryl.”

  “It’s okay,” he said tiredly. “Get some sleep.”

  Marie opened her eyes. The propane lantern was lit, casting shadows. Daryl wasn’t there.

  Fear crashed into her. She sat up, then put her back to the wall.

  A soft noise broke the quiet. Then came the steady pattering of feet, light, almost like a cat. It paused, then began stealthily to creep toward her.

  Marie stood, grabbing up the lantern. She shoved the boxes aside, then dashed outside, slamming the door behind her.

  The darkness was lessening. It had to be close to dawn. Marie could see the water had receded to where it had been before the storm, the granite landing and walls again revealed. To her relief there was no sign of Nikki’s body or Sam’s.

  “Daryl?” she called.

  “He’s in the house,” a familiar voice said gently. “That part’s over.”

  Marie whirled. The horseman stood there, his expression solemn.

  “Stay back,” she whispered, backing away.