Black Acres- The Complete Collection Page 7

  After a cup of tea, she went into the living room but couldn't focus on her novel. She was sick of reading, but it was more than that; her mind was elsewhere, filled to the brim with questions. The remainder of the day was spent idling in deep thought.

  Just after sunset, Julian came in from the back yard. He'd been cleaning up the piles of ancient firewood and had started a respectable fire in the fire pit. He urged her to come out and look, but she hesitated. The thought of a fire sounded nice, but she didn't much care to be so close to the woods after dark. When he pressed it, she finally relented, snatching a sweater up and throwing it on.

  The evening was chill. Kim hastened to the fire, which roared in a mighty blaze. Julian had stayed behind in the house a moment, emerging a short time later with two drinks. He'd poured them a little whiskey, and set hers down on a flat tree stump nearby.

  “Haven't you had enough to drink for a while?” she asked, sniffing at the booze and taking a meager sip. The liquor rolled down her tongue and warmed her throat.

  He grinned, smoothing back his tousled hair. “Just a nightcap, I figure.”

  They watched the fire for some time. Its warmth radiated about the space and they sat down upon a pair of old lawn chairs, holding their hands out.

  “I could get used to this,” said Kim. “It's lovely. Being out here, having all of this space to ourselves.”

  He raised his glass. “Finally getting over your fears, are you? Did Edwin talk some sense into you, perhaps?” He took a sip, looking over at her expectantly.

  She lowered her gaze, peering at the dark liquor and seeing her own flickering reflection in it. Kim shook her head. “Not quite. I spoke with him and he shared a lot of details about the former owners. But he didn't tell me what I really wanted to know. He gave me some other phone numbers, though-- of people who used to know the former owners, so maybe I'll give them a call and--”

  Julian about choked on his drink. He cleared his throat and shook his head. He sent the last few drops from his glass into the fire, and it flashed for a moment in a brilliant burst. “No,” he said, setting down the glass between his feet. “That's ridiculous. You talked to Edwin, isn't that enough?” He sighed. “This is getting out of hand, babe. Way outta hand. We've got this big house to ourselves, a great view of the stars, a warm fire, and you're sitting here thinking about some old people who disappeared years before we even met. Aren't you?” He spit, crossing his arms and leaning back in the lawn chair.

  “Damn it, it's not just because I'm curious. I feel... I feel like I need to know more about them. I want to know what happened. It's nagging at me, Julian. I can't breathe easy in this house. Not until I know. And it isn't as though I don't want to be happy here with you. I appreciate all of the hard work you did in writing your screenplay. I appreciate the house, everything you've done. I just...” She fell silent.

  Julian brooded in his seat, appraising the twinkling stars above. He wasn't having any of this.

  After a time, Kim decided to continue. “These people, the ones who vanished from here... what do you think happened to them? Talk to me about it, give me one of your rational explanations like you always do. If you think it's nothing, then paint me a picture and make me feel at ease. Because right now, I'm still frightened. I've seen things in this house, have had a bad vibe for a while now. But you've just dismissed it every time. So, other than post-move jitters, what else could it be?”

  He straightened himself in his seat, sighed emphatically and poked a stick into the fire, watching with annoyance as the tip fizzled and popped. “I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's none of our business. Drop it. Those people disappeared in some way or another, but wondering about it all day is going to make you insane. It's like those people who get obsessed with alien abductions or conspiracy theories. I'm not going to foster this. I'm not going to feed you new theories or anything like that. Some people lived here years ago, then they didn't. End-of-fucking-story, OK? Why can't you just let it be? Why isn't that good enough for you?” He raised his hands towards the sky. “All of this freedom, all of this space, and you have to pick this to worry over? What, we're not living in that cramped little shit-hole, living from check-to-check, so now you have to fixate on this? You have to stress out over these people to fill that void? Chill out and drop it. Please.”

  She grit her teeth. “Yeah, great. Thanks for taking my feelings into account. You say that this is all for me, that you want to give me the best, but when I say I see something scary outside, or think there's something wrong with the house, you just give me the same canned responses or, worse, get angry at me. Thanks a lot.”

  “I'll say there's something wrong with the house,” he replied. “Take those floors in the kitchen, for instance. We'll put some hardy stone tiles in there instead of that dated linoleum. I'll call tomorrow and see what their hours are. We can even drive out there and see what colors we like best. Plan the whole room together, yeah?” He patted her on the leg. “Let's focus on what's really important. Making this house our own.”

  She grimaced. Something about the words he'd chosen just then didn't sit well with her. “Make the house their own”? If it wasn't theirs right then, then who did it belong to? She shivered and looked back at the fire, uninterested in further talk of renovations or countertops. None of that mattered to her in the least. Not right now. She was pissed at Julian. He was willing to dismiss each and every concern of hers. As usual, the only thing he ever cared about was the project at hand. First it'd been that goddamned screenplay. Now his grand project was the house. His self-centeredness was getting to her. Where she'd thought this move might be a panacea, allowing her to spend more time with him, she saw it for what it really was now. This was his next passion project, more work for him to get lost in.

  Kim was about to storm off and reenter the house when a sudden noise issuing from the direction of the woods made her drop back into her chair and grip at the plastic armrests. “What in the hell is that?” she asked.

  She watched as Julian's expression transitioned from cool annoyance, to concerned confusion, before finally giving way to dread. He leaned forward, listening pensively, and then looked over at her, shaking his head. “An animal,” he breathed, going quiet as though he didn't want to be heard. “It's gotta be.”

  Kim wasn't an outdoors-type, didn't know a thing about the native fauna. But she did know two things. The first, was that Edwin had told her that there weren't any animals in those woods. As a resident of this area for almost sixty years, he'd never known animals in this stretch of trees. The other thing she knew was that no animal she had ever encountered, whether in a zoo, in a park or on a television program, had made a sound quite like this one. It was a fierce, aggravated sound, not unlike a human scream. It was garbled however, pained, and carried with it the guttural foundation of something like a bear's roar. It was also loud. Very loud. It shot out from somewhere in that black nest of dead trees, and to her frightened mind it seemed awfully close. Edwin had alluded to the possibility of one's eyes playing tricks on them where these woods were concerned. But could they play tricks on one's ears, too? Could the sound of the wind passing through the trees generate this sort of noise?

  No.

  And they both knew it.

  Standing up and cautiously perusing the treeline, the paleness in Julian's visage was highlighted by the orange glow of the fire. He didn't see anything, but the recurrence of that hideous sound, ringing out like a siren in the stillness, made him blanch further. Stuttering, he waved towards the back door. “W-wounded animal. G-get inside, babe. I'll, uh... put out the fire and join you.”

  She didn't need an invitation. Quickly, Kim dashed from her chair and burst through the back door. She watched from the kitchen window as Julian took a bucket of water and doused the half-burnt logs in the pit. Poking at them with a stick, he whipped the mess inside into a steaming slurry, and then frenziedly stomped out whatever embers he could see with his boot. The sound was strea
ming through the air again, the gasping, screaming vocalization sending her into a cold sweat even from the confines of the kitchen. The lights overhead flickered. It may have only been a coincidence, but Kim whimpered all the same.

  Finally, Julian rushed inside. He was covered in sweat, his shirt clinging to his thin frame, his cheeks red and eyes wide. He locked the door, made sure the windows were locked, and then continued through the rest of the lower story, securing every other lock he could find. When he was through, he sat down on the sofa quietly and seemed to reflect on everything that'd happened.

  “What's wrong?” she asked, sitting down beside him. “Did you... did you see anything out there?”

  Julian loosed a little laugh, shaking his head as if in disbelief. The sound hadn't come back again, and in the virginal quiet he felt he could finally relax. “Well, uh... no. I don't think I did. Those trees, man... they play tricks on you. I could've sworn I saw someone standing out there. In the woods. But, uh...” He shook his head again, palming at his sweaty chin. “Nah, no way. That sound had me freaked. Probably just some wandering bear. Got hurt and made some awful noise, that's it. But those woods, really, they do a number on you at night.”

  Kim took his arm and shook him gently. “See? I told you--”

  “No, no, babe...” He took in a deep breath. He was visibly shaken, but remained obstinate. “Look. There isn't another building for miles and miles. Haven't heard a car pass by all day. There isn't any way someone could just show up in those woods. Makes no sense. The only explanation is that my eyes were fooling me. That's it. I swear.” He wiped at his eyes, laughing weakly. “The firelight didn't help. Probably reflected all kinds of shapes against the dark woods. Like a shadow play or something.” Regaining some composure he slapped at his knee and looked at her with some relief. “That's what it was, babe. Nothing but a trick of the light and a wounded animal.” He broke out into laughter. “I won't lie. Scared the shit out of me, though.”

  She leaned back against the sofa. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe he'd been mistaken. But she knew better. Nothing natural had made that terrible sound outside, and his eyes hadn't deceived him. She'd seen someone out there the night before, too.

  “Let's go to bed, yeah?” he asked, looking somewhat defeated. He stood, shutting off the light and hiking up to the stairs. She followed him and ascended silently. The pair threw off their sweaty clothes and made their way to the bed.

  Before laying down and switching off the bedside lamp, Kim felt the urge to look through the window at the woods one last time. She wondered if the figure was still out there or if, from this vantage point, she'd get a look at whatever had been making that sound. She walked over to the window and took hold of the curtains.

  “No!” Julian barked, throwing his hand out and scrambling towards the foot of the bed. “No, don't look. Just... just lay down. Go to sleep. Forget about it, it was nothing.” He took her arm and drew her away.

  Kim switched off the lamp and settled into bed beside him, stomach roiling with unease. Whatever it was he'd seen was still out there in the woods. She was sure of it.

  Eleven

  Kim had trouble getting to sleep. Too many thoughts paraded through her mind, conjuring frightening images. She wondered how safe they were in the house, whether something from the woods might try and break in. That figure standing out there; was it a flesh-and-blood person, or an apparition? It seemed ludicrous to consider the possibility of the latter, but after everything she'd witnessed on the Beacon estate thus far...

  She reassured herself constantly. She was with Julian. After a bit of tossing and turning, he'd finally managed to slip into a light sleep. See? she thought to herself. He's not too freaked out to sleep. He feels safe here. So, why don't you? She reminded herself that the odds of a break-in or some other violent incident were extremely remote out there in the middle of nowhere. And if something did happen, then help was only a phone call away.

  Sure. If your landline even works. Or if your stupid cell can find a reception.

  When finally she slept, Kim began to dream. She approached dreams now with a subconscious dread. There was no telling what she would dream of, but after her first dream in the house, the vivid one of the old woman in her kitchen, Kim knew better than to expect happy visions.

  The darkness of the dreamscape cleared away, revealing a familiar sight. Curiosity arrested her sleep-addled mind. She was crouching, looking up at something she recognized. It was the door in the basement, the one that was built into the wall. The door she'd stumbled upon while doing laundry. She reached up to touch it, the cool concrete sending a shiver through her like an electric current. The seams, the small handle, the cold, metallic keyhole. She touched them each as though she were a blind woman trying to make sense of its dimensions.

  And then she heard it. A sound that made her stand up within the dream and step away from the door.

  It was the sound she and Julian had heard outside. The sound coming from the woods. Hateful, violent, demoniacally discordant. She raised her hands to her ears and felt her body seize with dread. The baleful call seemed to issue from the other side of the concrete door, and as she watched in abject horror, a deep rumbling joined the shrieking cry. The door was trembling before her, its ancient hinges bracing against some great force. Something on its other side was pounding on it, trying feverishly to break out. The cacophonous cry grew louder, became deafening, and the pounding reached a fever pitch. The rusted screws in the hinges began to ease out of their holes. The worn-out metal began to crack. The seams of the door were moving now. Whatever it was, it was making headway.

  And Kim couldn't move.

  It wasn't that she didn't want to. It wasn't that she didn't try. Her legs were stiff, held fast to the ground. She peered down at them and couldn't see her feet. It was like they'd been swallowed up by the floor.

  Suddenly, she awoke.

  Kim felt instantly thankful to have awoken before the dream took an even darker turn and revealed to her whatever was on the other side of the door. She took in a deep breath, opened her eyes, and took in the perfect darkness of night.

  As she tried to gain her bearings, she noticed that the air smelled damp. Did you leave the window open? she wondered. Then, she realized something else. She wasn't in bed. She was standing up. Kim wiggled her toes, finding a hard, smooth surface beneath them. These weren't the hardwood planks of her bedroom.

  Though she knew she was awake, terror coursed through her afresh. She reached out through the darkness. There was nothing but empty space directly in front of her. To her side she felt something solid. Tracing her fingers along it clumsily, she found it cool, partitioned by slight grooves, like bricks.

  Her throat closed up on her, a bolus of dread choking her and making her gag. Oh my God... you're in the basement.

  Frightened to her core, she turned and felt out the stairs before her. Struggling, banging her knees on the sagging planks, she thundered up them and searched on the brick wall for the light switch. Giving it a flip, the dim space was lit up in an instant. She was blinded for a moment by the flash of light, but it confirmed her worst fears. She was in the basement, indeed.

  But that wasn't all.

  Teetering on the top of the stairs, shoving open the cellar door and hovering in the threshold to the kitchen, she peered down at the concrete wall opposite her. Kim had never been a sleepwalker. She'd never wandered out of her bed at night, so that her presence in the basement came as a great shock. But that wasn't what worried her just then. Her clothing was soaked through with sweat, and her legs were shaking.

  The strange door in the cellar, the one she'd discovered just days previous, was sitting ajar.

  What this meant, or how it'd happened, were mysteries. Kim shook in the cellar doorway, appraising the open door with wide, fearful eyes. There did not appear to be a key in its lock, however the hinges were broken, with one of them having fallen apart completely. She recalled her dream, and th
en wondered with a tightly-held gasp whether it'd been a dream at all. Her chest burned and her heart quaked. Her stomach felt as though it would drop out of her completely and bounce down the stairs.

  In the corner of her eye, just beside the foot of the stairs, she thought she saw something scurry. The mere sight of it made her consciousness lapse, and it was only by a thread that she didn't faint into a heap.

  Something, a hand, she fancied, had reached out and struck the concrete floor with force. She'd heard that sound before, flesh meeting cool, smooth concrete. Whatever it was, it made a ruckus for a time, propelling itself across that damp floor as it disappeared beneath the stairwell. It moved unnaturally, like an animal of some kind. If a centipede were given human limbs, then perhaps it would have made a similar sound as its hundreds of appendages writhed in locomotion.

  It'd been a human-shaped hand. Of that she was sure. Pale, almost translucent skin. The nail beds had struck her as vaguely red. The seconds-long glance had borne out no other details of note.

  But that'd been sufficient.

  Clinging to the door frame and falling onto her ass, she scrambled across the kitchen floor, screaming at the top of her lungs for Julian. Tears streamed from her eyes and she backed herself up against one of the chipped cabinets, her gaze locked onto the door leading to the cellar.

  Julian stumbled downstairs in a groggy stupor, tripping over his own feet as he crossed into the kitchen. He sought out a light switch and looked around, his gaze finally settling on her. He wiped at his eyes, kneeling down beside her. “W-what happened, babe? What is it?”