by Keith Knapp
The Elvis doll in her truck dancing to his own golden oldie.
The earthquake on the freeway.
Trying to save the lady and her dog in the station wagon.
Falling toward an unseen ground.
Hitting the grass field.
And not being hurt.
At all.
While it was true that she thought it odd none of them were crushed upon landing in the grass field, Jillian had heard accounts of people surviving much worse. She was reminded of a story her father once told her about a man that had skydived from twenty-thousand feet. His parachute hadn’t opened and he had bounced on the ground not once, not twice, but three times. That man had lived, so why not them, too?
Her Catholic upbringing was enough to convince her that Heaven wasn’t necessarily clouds and angels with harps and God giving you a high-five on a Life Well Done, but rather everlasting peace and harmony, which this place was clearly not. And Hell might not exactly be fire and brimstone and a scary man with a pitchfork, but in Jillian’s mind it was certainly a place of constant agony. This place was closer to that scenario, but it also didn’t feel right. There wasn’t constant agony here. More like constant confusion.
“Purgatory,” Sophia said, the word out of her mouth before Jillian could get to it.
Jillian tapped her nose at Sophia. “We were in the earthquake. We fell off the freeway, God, I don’t know how far. And none of us, not a one, has a broken bone, bruised elbow or minor scratch to show for it.” She turned to Mike. “You said yourself that we should be dead.”
“I didn’t mean-” he started, then looked down at his hands, searching for the tell-tale signs of a person that had been in a scrap. Some road-rash, perhaps. They were clean. Not a scratch.
The others in the lobby did the same. Everyone (except for Jillian and Sophia, who were ahead of the game here) inspected themselves for cuts, bruises, anything that would indicate they had fallen three stories. Arms and legs should be broken. Surely not all of them could have survived such a fall. The odds against that must be ludicrous.
“No, nah, nuh-uh,” Mike said, putting his un-injured hands into his pockets. “I mean, there shoulda been a bright white light, a big booming voice or something. People are always talking about bright lights and big booming voices.”
“Those that come back from a near-death experience do, if you believe in that sort of thing,” said Jillian. “Obviously none of us have come back. Or gone back. We’re still here, in the middle, as it were.”
“Well, I don’t believe in that sorta thing,” said Mike. “There’s gotta be an explanation. Those ladies did something to us. Slipped us some real good drugs left over from a government experiment or something. Like, some real Jacob’s Ladder-type shit or something.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people,” Jillian said.
“No,” said Mike, “but I’m more willing to buy a conspiratorial government than life after death.”
“I saw a light,” Brett said. “When I was falling. I fell into the light. It was a red light. Then I saw the ground.”
“Just the fire from the freeway,” Mike explained. He fished his hands around in his pockets. “Hmph.”
“You saw it, too,” said Jillian. She was convinced Mike had seen the same thing even though he wasn’t. “We all did. I saw a flash, real quick, this real quick flash of red. Then like the kid said: the ground.”
“You’re all insane,” Mike snorted.
“Yeah, I guess we are,” Sophia shot back. “So if you’re the sane one, explain my dead ex-husband being up there.”
Mike put up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. That guy was dead?”
Sophia nodded. “Yes, very much so.” She shuddered, then added under her breath, “I think so.”
A loud BANG followed by the sound of a dog letting its master know it was done with its business outside came from the front door. Scratching. Pawing. Barking. Roscoe’s ears popped up and his eyes shot to the door.
The thing outside barked again and got a bark in return from another.
The claws of whatever was outside climbed up the door. Then the animal let its claws drag down the exterior, no doubt producing great and deep marks.
Rachel was on the other side of the lobby before the scratching reached the bottom of the door, one foot on a stair, the other still glued to the floor. Brett was right behind her, his hands around her waist, ready to shoot up the stairs as soon as she was.
“They’re here, they’re back, Jesus-all-to-Hell-shit,” said Rachel.
“Who’s here?” Mike asked.
Brett tugged on Rachel’s shirt. “Rach, come on, let’s go, please, let’s go.”
Slowly, Roscoe approached the door making all the racket. His head was cocked. He wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing, wasn’t quite sure if it was good or bad. Perhaps a playmate, perhaps an enemy.
“Roscoe, no,” Sophia whispered.
The dog didn’t hear her. He got close enough so that his nose touched the oak of the door and sniffed. That sniff produced a growl from the other side. Roscoe growled back.
Mike turned to Rachel. “What’s out there?”
“Monsters.”
All eyes focused on the window to the right of the door as two paws appeared and from their size Jillian guessed the monsters outside were easily the size of Roscoe—who was now smartly backing away from the door. It was not a new playmate out there.
Four claws popped out of each paw in the window. The tip of a head gradually came into view. The head raised itself, showcasing two bright yellow eyes that stared in on them. A diamond-shaped patch sat between those demon eyes.
Jillian couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure the eyes were glowing. “Okay,” she said, “everyone upstairs.”
Now it was Sophia’s eyes that were glowing. Not yellow like the mean-looking animal in the window that would be in the lobby soon, but with fear. “You’re not getting me anywhere up there again,” she said.
Mike brushed past Sophia. He seemingly couldn’t care less if she was going upstairs or not.
Sophia raised her voice. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m not going up there again.”
“Fine,” Rachel said as Mike joined her and Brett at the stairs. “Get eaten by weird dogs. See if I care.”
“Dogs?” asked Sophia. “It’s just a couple of dogs?”
“They’re a bit more than dogs,” Rachel said. “I ran into them when I first got here. They-” Rachel stopped herself. She had almost spilled the beans on Jimmy’s unfortunate demise. Now was not the time for Brett to learn the exact nature of his brother’s death.
But Brett had already picked up on her flub. “D-did those th-things get J-Jimmy?” Yes, sometimes ol’ Brett wasn’t so slow.
Rachel could answer him with nothing more than a stare. Tears swam in both their eyes.
Before the information could fully register in Brett’s brain, the dog-thing at the window reeled its head back and butted it against the glass. The window cracked but didn’t shatter. A few more hits like that, though, and it would.
Apparently liking the idea of their friend at the window, the other animals outside begin to knock their heads against the door and the exterior wall. Each strike was accompanied by a slobbery-sounding growl. The door bulged in its hinges and the sound of splintering wood filled the room. The slamming came so fast and was so ferocious there was no telling how many of the things were out there.
Then the mayhem suddenly, abruptly stopped.
There was a few seconds of patter outside. Paws collided with the earth as one of the things built up some speed. It got louder and louder, heading straight for the hotel. Sounded like a horse.
The window shattered as Diamond Patch flew in. Glass rained down on the floor. Shards of it embedded in the animal’s head, but it didn’t care. All it cared about was that it was that much closer to its prey.
Diamond Patch hovered in mid-air. Although it had succeeded in br
eaking the window, the wood frame prevented the dog-thing from fully entering the room. It was just a wee bit too fat. So it hung there, stuck, glaring at the group. It opened its mouth. Snapped its black teeth.
“Jesus, what is that thing?” Mike gasped.
Rachel locked eyes with the animal. They sat frozen that way for a few seconds, staring at one another. Diamond Patch once again showed its teeth (just in case any of them had missed it), and let out a horrendous growl-cry.
Rachel turned to move up the stairs.
Sophia was already at the top landing.
29.
Mike Randal had not been ready for a sprint like that. He was pretty sure he’d never run that fast before in his life. He was also pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.
Outside and one floor below, two dog-things encircled the hotel as night finally came, plotting a way inside. Mike leaned over to look out the window, pressing his head against the glass. He had to squint—it’d be maybe an hour or two before the moon rose, giving them more light—but he could see the ass of the one that had broken through the window wiggling about, its feet trying to find purchase on something to help it in.
“Looks like the fat one’s blocking the others,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. It felt like his heart was on fire. “One too many steaks.”
Rachel gave him a fake and very awkward smile. “Yeah,” she said. “One too many.”
“At least that seems to have put the others off on the idea,” Mike said.
Sophia found a place in a far corner. She crouched, hugged her knees and kept her head down. She was muttering something to herself over and over again, but Mike couldn’t make out what she was saying. He supposed it didn’t matter. She clearly wanted to be left alone right now.
Back out the window. While it may not have been a brilliant idea to keep his head in view like that, he couldn’t take his eyes off the things. What were they? Part dog, part wolf, part…what, exactly? Two of the dog-things had positioned themselves behind the fat one stuck in the windowpane. They weren’t helping their friend out, but instead were merely waiting for it to move its ass through so that they could get in. The two looked at each other, then backed away from the hotel into the middle of the street. They huddled there, a two-man football team going over the next play.
Then they tilted their heads up and looked at Mike.
“Shit,” he said and squatted down, hoping that whatever these things were didn’t just spot him. Rachel squatted with him, but their hope of remaining unseen was quickly shattered as the two animals below began to bark loudly.
“We’ve been made,” Mike said. He craned his head up, getting just high enough to be able to see the hounds on the road below.
“Jesus Mike, get down!” Rachel whisper-yelled.
“It’s okay,” he said.
The two dog-things looking up at the second story window laid down. They rested their heads on their paws and rolled over onto their sides, looking as peaceful and playful as puppies.
“What are they doing?” Rachel asked.
“Sleeping, I think,” Mike answered.
“Can we get around them?” Jillian asked.
“Yeah,” Mike said. “Maybe. I dunno.”
“Alrighty. Let’s just wait here,” Rachel snorted.
“For how long?” Jillian asked.
“Forever if we have to.”
“We may have the time,” Jillian said.
“Huh?” Mike asked. Then he got it. “You mean the whole ‘we’re already dead’ thing?”
“Yeah.”
Mike shook his head. “That’s by far the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Nodding in Sophia’s direction, Rachel said, “You already forget that lady’s dead ex-husband walking through you?”
“I’m trying to.”
“Who’s to say?” Jillian asked. “Do you know what happens after you eat your final meal?”
Mike crossed his arms and hung his head. No, he didn’t. “But still,” he said, “that’s a pretty far leap.”
Sophia spoke up. “I agree. But that doesn’t change the fact that I just saw my dead ex-husband.” Then she kinda smiled. “And if Jody’s not here…then maybe she’s okay. Maybe she’s okay.” That’s what she had been muttering to herself: maybe she’s okay.
“Maybe you’re crazy, lady,” Mike said. “Maybe you all are.”
* * *
One window over, Brett sat very much like Sophia: knees up to his chin, arms around his legs, eyes down to the ground. Rachel’s heart went out to him. The kid was a mess and she couldn’t help but think that part of it was her fault. Yes, it had been Jimmy that had done the damage in the convenience store, but she could’ve stopped him. She could’ve at least tried.
Making sure she avoided stepping in front of a window, Rachel sat down next to him. “You okay, Bretty?”
Brett didn’t look up. “Jimmy,” he said. “Those things really got Jimmy?”
She put an arm over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bretty. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to-”
“S’okay,” said Brett. “You was jus’ lookin’ out for me. Didn’t wanna upset me.”
“That’s not an excuse,” she said.
“No,” he replied, “but it’s a good reason.”
Then he looked up at her and smiled, yes, he really smiled, and Rachel knew he understood the reasoning behind her keeping it a secret. But even though he may have understood, that didn’t stop his eyes from tearing up. Wetness fell down his face and landed on his knees.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and then she was speechless, but that didn’t surprise her. Really, what could you say to someone who just lost their brother and best friend to a pack of wild animals? Sitting here and mulling it over would do him no good. She had to keep him busy.
Her gaze landed on the closet next to them. “Brett, take a look in the closet, see if there’s anything there.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“A sharp stick, a book of foul language, anything we might be able to use against those things,” Rachel said.
“Okay.”
Brett moved over to the closet and opened the door. Inside it was blacker than black, darker than dark. He’d have to search with his hands.
* * *
Sophia pushed herself away from the corner (and the closet, she wanted nothing to do with the windows and nothing to do with a closet, either) and made her way toward the others.
“What I saw in that room, that was one of the worst days of my life.” She turned to look at Mike. “One of the worst days of both of our lives,” she said quietly, fresh tears welling up in her eyes as the story of that day spilled out of her, whether she wanted it to or not.
“We’d become nothing more than roommates after four years of marriage. Started out fine, high school sweethearts, but I think he just got bored with everything. Bored with me, bored with life, I dunno. I thought after Jody was born that would change. It did, but not the way I hoped.
“He started drinking more. To alleviate his boredom, I guess. He always had a beer or two a night, even in high school. You know? Hell, he quarterbacked more than one game sauced up.
“We went into couple’s therapy. I went on more anti-depressants than I could count. He went into A.A. Things were okay for a little while. He stayed sober, I stayed on my meds, I was confident everything was gonna be okay again.
“I don’t know what happened, I guess that high of being sober and things looking up for a bit wore off. At least that’s what his sponsor told me, you know, before Jack fired him.
“And then he fell off the wagon. Hard. My meds couldn’t compete with his drinkin’. He got angrier and angrier. Stopped goin’ to couple’s therapy.”
Sophia paused. That had all come out of her in one breath somehow. She pulled oxygen into her lungs, then went on. “Things got worse and worse and worse. Last night, or a few nights ago, I don’t know what day it is, I
came home from work and he was already seven kinds of drunk. It was impossible to pick a night he wouldn’t be drunk because those nights didn’t exactly exist. I told him I was thinking about movin’ in with my mom…and he just lost it. I mean, really fuckin’ lost it. Started throwing things around. Plates, empty beer bottles, coasters, whatever.
“And poor Jody, she was in the living room, just doing her homework. I hadn’t told her, yet. She knew something was up, though. Kids always know. And Jack didn’t make it difficult to figure out, either.
“I think you all got a good taste of what happened next. He nearly broke my wrist slamming me into a wall. Bruised my rib-cage when I told him Jody was coming with me. I hid in the closet until-”
Sophia stopped talking.
“Until what?” Mike asked.
Sophia thought for a second. How she wasn’t a crying wreck right now was beyond everyone. Then: “Until it was over.”
Mike looked down at his sneakers, shuffled his feet.
“I can’t face that day again, but maybe that’s what this place is,” Sophia said, her face red with sadness and fright, her eyes drowning in dampness. “I mean, if we’re in some sorta purgatory or Hell or somethin’. I don’t think I believe it any more than Mike here does, but as crazy as it sounds, it’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
“I don’t know about that,” Mike said. “Look, I’m sorry for what you went through, really. But there’s gotta be a better explanation.”
* * *
If (when) those things got inside, Brett would give them a what-for. He’d show them that they’d messed with the wrong guy’s brother. Or maybe he wouldn’t wait for them to get inside. Maybe he’d just go down there and beat them silly, kick ‘em ‘til they bled.
You’re not gonna do any of that shit, Other Brett said in his head.
Yes I am, he thought back. I can if I wanna. And I wanna.
Want’s got nothin’ to do with it. You’re too weak, too stupid, too much of a loser to even be thinking about doing-
Brett squinted his eyes closed. Shut up! Go away!
You’re not always gonna be able to make me go away, Bretty-boy. ‘Cause I’m always here. You know that. I’m always here, in the back of your mind-
