Picking up and moving wasn’t so bad this time, Ellie thought.
In the past, she and her mother would wind up renting a tiny, run-down apartment on the west side of the city. Bits and pieces of her life would be carelessly thrown into her mother’s car, to be unloaded in a cramped little bedroom she and Helen would have to share. If they were lucky, the flat would be semi-furnished with other people’s castoffs; mismatched chairs around a kitchen table that looked like it had been salvaged from a restaurant makeover. The table would serve double-duty as her homework center. Eventually, a new man would enter her mother’s life and there would be another move. It was always to a bigger place, and she always got her own room, but it was always temporary.
This time she hadn’t wanted to bring many of her personal things along. As she had glanced around her room at Tony’s one last time, it dawned on herthis room is a girlie room. It was pink and perky, and she just wasn’t anymore. Even her favorite posters on the wall seemed juvenile. There was no accounting for her musical taste when she was twelve. In her heart she knew she no longer belonged in the room that said “Ellie” on a ceramic nameplate on the door. She had half expected her banged-up skateboard to flip up and hit her on the ass on her way out.
Her Nan’s house, she was delighted to discover, was fully furnished. It had a welcoming feeling about it lifeless human on the porch swing aside. There was a big, solid oak table in the dining room. It was big enough for eight people to sit at, their butts held firm on chairs that actually matched. In the living room she found a well-worn beanbag chair that she was pretty sure her Nan didn’t sit in anymore. It was an avocado color that screamed “I was made before you were born,” and it was amazingly comfy. Ellie dragged it from the corner of the room and settled down in front of the fireplace. It was a real fireplace with real wood burning in it. She could have stared at it for hours. She had a craving for a soda, but she heard her mother arguing with her Nan in the kitchen, and she just didn’t want to go there. Instead, she watched until the burning embers lost all of their color and the crackling noise stopped. It was time then, she decided, to make her way up to the room at the top of the stairs for the night. Her room.
Once inside, she started to unpack her suitcase, tossing her clothes wildly across the room. She laughed when her jacket caught itself on the hook on the bedroom door, as if it knew instinctively where it belonged.
“I finally have a real bed,” she squealed. “A double bed. It might even be a queen-sized bed.” She jumped on top and began to make snow angels upon the mattress. “I’ve got room to roll over. What a concept.” She sat up and propped some pillows against the headboard. “And ... I have room for somebody else,” she smiled saucily.
Her cell phone was in her pants pocket. She reached into it, pulled it out and called her friend.
“Hello, this is Dina. Leave a message, I’m out,” said the teenaged voice on the other end of the line.
Ellie sat up on the bed. She could barely hide the disappointment in her voice. “Hey Dina. It’s Ellie. Sorry to call you so late. You’ll never guess what happened tonight. We got here to this stupid Troy place, and I met the cutest guy. His name’s Tom and he is tall and blond and oh-my-god-gorgeous. You just have to see him. I’ll try to get a celly-pic of him and send it to you. And there was a dead body on my Nan’s porch. Mom totally freaked. She kept sending death stares to my Nanlike it was her fault or something. It was the weirdest night. Call me back.”
She hung up and looked around for an electrical socket to recharge the phone. Her eyes followed a lamp cord until it led her to an outlet near where she had earlier dropped her duffle bag. The big t-shirt she liked to sleep in was poking out from where the pull-ties of the bag had come loose. She went over to the bag and pulled the top out and smelled it. The scent of the fabric softener her mother always used lingered on the cotton and she found it oddly comforting.
“At least it doesn’t smell like bug death,” she said to herself, taking off the clothes she had worn during the day and putting on the shirt. She found her phone charger in the front pocket of the bag, and plugged it in, placing the phone on the nightstand.
She plopped back down on the bed. As she stared at the stucco ceiling above her, she thought again about the warning look she had seen her mom flash at Nan when they first entered the house. What was up with that? It wasn’t like Helen hadn’t seen a dead body before. Dead bodies seemed to follow her mother around. Like the time when Ellie was five and an ice storm snapped the overhead wires on the street where they lived. They whipped around for what seemed like minutes before finally falling and electrocuting the garbage man before their very eyes. Her mother didn’t seem very upset about it. She told her the man in the dirty coveralls was very, very bad and got what he deserved. Ellie never found what he had done. Her mother had told her to never speak of it again.
She was also to remain mum about the time they were canoeing and they accidentally hit a lump of seaweed that turned out to be a lump of torso. She had heard her mother drop an f-bomb herself that time. “Fuck, Frankie,” Helen had said, and Ellie never learned who Frankie was or how her mother could recognize him or her without a head. That conversation was also always met with what Ellie referred to as “the death stare.”
Ellie turned out the lights and tried to settle down but something wasn’t right. She tried to put her finger on it. It wasn’t the bed. It wasn’t the room. It wasBeastie Bear. She needed him and he was still in the van. That wouldn’t do.
Throwing the bedspread back in a huff, she got out of the bed and headed into the hallway. She passed her mother on the way down the stairs.
“You’re still awake, Ellie?” Helen questioned. “It’s after midnight.”
“Yes. I left something in the van. I’ll be right back.”
“Do you really need it now? Can’t it wait until the morning?”
“Beastie Boy,” Ellie said firmly. She was ready to cause a scene if she had to. “I want him.”
“Okay, be quick about it though, it’s cold outside. Put a coat on. The keys to the van are on the table by the front door.” Helen was too exhausted from the long day to fight with her daughter.
Ellie nodded and continued down the stairs. She noticed Helena in the living room, looking outside through the paneled glass aside the front door.
“Are you okay, Nan?” Ellie asked.
“I’m fine, Ellie,” Helena replied, her gaze not moving from the window. “I just thought I heard something outside.” She shrugged. “It was probably a stray cat. Can I get you something?”
“I’m just running to the van. I forgot...something. I’ll be back in a minute. Can I borrow your shawl?” she asked, picking Helena’s wrap from the chair it rested on. She paused only long enough to acknowledge her Nan’s nod of permission. Shoving her feet in her sneakers without actually putting her heels into her shoes, she grabbed the car keys from the table and flip-flopped her way outside, her bare heels sliding and hitting the damp ground every other step.
The wind had died down, revealing a strange scent in the still night air. It smelled like dirt. It smelled like a stinky gym bag. It smelled like a wet dog. She wrinkled her nose. Something was definitely up with her sense of smell tonight. “Mom must have left a window open in the van,” she mused, as she headed around to the driver’s side of the vehicle to check. “We are polluting the neighborhood with eau-de-cockroach.”
Inside the house, Helena had moved to the dining room window. Her face grew grave as she watched her granddaughter outside. “Come back around where I can see you, Ellie,” she whispered, sliding the window open so she could call to her granddaughter if she needed to. As the smell of the night air filled the room, Helena’s hands motioned the scent towards her nostrils, much like one would sample the aroma of a fine French perfume. The smell was disturbing. It smelled like danger. It smelled like hunger. It smelled a wet dog. She walked back to the front door and opened it. “You are polluting my neighborhood with eau-de-fe
ar,” she whispered into the darkness.
The interior van light went on as Ellie opened the driver’s side door and hopped inside. Reaching across the dashboard to pick up Beastie Bear, she could see through the passenger side window that Helena was now standing on the porch watching her every move.
“What? Does she think I’m a baby or something?” she asked aloud. “If I’m going to have both Mom and Nan watching me day and night, I might as well roll over and die a virgin.”
She checked the windows. They were all rolled up. “Hmm,” she thought. “That’s weird. It smells worse outside the van than inside. What is that smell?” She plugged her nose with one hand and slid over to the passenger side to get out. As she reached for the door with her free hand, she heard a low, rumbling growl. She jumped back in the seat. With the edge of the shawl she rubbed away the fog that was forming on the inside of the window. Through the condensation streaks she could see a wet, mangy dog circling the van, marking its territory as it did so.
“Okay, I’m a baby!” she gasped, rolling down the window the tiniest bit. “Nan!” she screamed. “Help me! I’m trapped by Cujo!”
Ellie saw the ears on the animal twitch as it raised itself up on its hind legs and placed its front paws against the van’s window. Its brown fur was matted, and the dried blood around its mouth suggested it had just feasted on some poor animal that wasn’t quick enough to get away. Its hollow eyes, one blue and one brown, stared at Ellie like a wolf stalking its prey. As if sensing the fear within her, it began to emit a blood-curling howl.
“I’m trapped and it knows it,” she gasped. “Nan, get it away from me,” she begged, banging on the window with her fist.
Helena tried to creep up behind the animal, but its hearing was insanely keen. As it turned to look at her, its claws slid down the passenger door, putting deep scratches into the van’s white enamel. It barred its teeth, the elongated canine’s dripping with an unsightly mix of what Helena hoped were only rodent guts and saliva. It looked at her with an expression that was almost human. “Take me on, bitch,” it seemed to taunt her, licking its snout in anticipation of the feast.
“Don’t even think of it,” Helena said, coming menacingly close to it, a wooden rake in her hand. “I’ll have you burning in a bonfire before the animal control people get a whiff of you.”
Ellie’s eyes widened as she saw Helena take the end of the rake and smash it on the cement sidewalk, just inches from the dog. The rake had snapped like a toothpick.
Helena pointed the sharp broken handle right between the animal’s eyes. “Listen up, pup. You’re not Lassie. There’s no happy ending here. Run along home. If you want me to destroy you, I will. The choice is yours.”
The animal put its tail between his legs and dropped its head in defeat. Helena watched as it slunk down the road.
“Damn coyotes,” Helena said. “Come on love, it’s safe to come out now. Let’s get you back inside the house.”
Ellie quickly opened the door and scrambled out, tucking Beastie Boy under the shawl.
“You,” she gasped, giving Helena a big hug, “are totally awesome. I swear you broke that rake with superhuman strength. Weren’t you scared?”
“Maybe a little,” Helena admitted. “But I’m going to be more afraid of your mother when she sees what that animal did to the door of the van.” She put her arms on Ellie’s shoulder. “Let’s not tell her about this, all right? You know how she gets. I’ll tell her some kids stole the rake out of the garage and scratched the truck. Kids gone wild. This being hell night, that sounds plausible.”
“You’re going to lie to my mom?” Ellie questioned, somewhat wide-eyed.
“Do you want to be locked up for the rest of your life?”
“A plausibility it is,” Ellie agreed.
Pushing her granddaughter slightly ahead, Helena looked down the street. The cur was at the end of the road, watching them. His eyes had turned to a single shade of red, the same shade of red Helena’s own eyes, unbeknownst to Ellie, had turned as she angrily glared back at it.
She took a moment to compose herself. “Well, you have to admit it hasn’t been a boring day, Ellie,” Helena mused as they went back inside the house.
“It doesn’t even register on the boring day chart,” Ellie said emphatically.
“I love you, Ellie,” Helena smiled.
“I love you too, Nancy,” Ellie laughed. She turned to Helena and gave her another hug. “Really, Nan, you kicked butt out there. Thanks for saving me.”
“I wish I could always be there for you,” Helena said wistfully, leading her granddaughter back into the safety of the house.
Upstairs, safely tucked in her bed with Beastie Boy by her side, Ellie grabbed her phone from the nightstand and checked to see if Dina had called her back. There were no messages. Saddened, she put the phone back and turned out the light. She couldn’t believe how tired she suddenly was. Within minutes she had fallen into a deep slumber.
Across the room, the door leading to the balcony opened by itself, bringing a rush of cold air inside. Ellie subconsciously tried to pull the quilt tight around her, but her actions were met with an unidentifiable resistance. She woke up and glanced at the foot of the bed. What her half-awake mind could only describe as a shadow-man was now standing before her, beckoning her to follow him outside. She tried to resist, but she was no longer in control of her own body.
If she had taken some hallucinating drug, there might have been an explanation for how she suddenly found herself transported from the safety of the attic bedroom to standing alone in the middle of a country side road. But Ellie didn’t take drugs, which made the situation all the more baffling.
“Nan,” she said to herself, “come up with something plausible for this.”
The mist rolling on the ground was cold on Ellie’s feet. “Where the hell am I?” she wondered. She could see an old wooden bridge over a creek, and beyond that, a three story brick building that was sadly in need of repair. “You know,” she whispered breathlessly, “eight hours of sleep is so overrated. Let’s wake up now, please.”
Hearing someone whistling in the distance, she turned towards the sound.
“Frère Jacques?” Ellie asked. “Is somebody whistling Frère Jacques? I can’t stand that stupid song. This nightmare is getting worse and worse by the minute.”
She listened intently. The notes were slow and methodical, more like a funeral march than a lullaby. The tempo began to lull her into a trance-like state, her body moving towards the sound under no will of her own. “Oh no, not again,” she pleaded. She tried to dig her heels into the earth to stop moving, but she could no longer feel her feet. “I’m floating,” she discovered. “This is crazy.”
She could see the outline of a man on the other side of the bridge. He was tall and lanky and oddly beguiling. He leaned against the wooden structure with a devil-may-care slouch. As he turned his profile into the moonlight she could see that he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. But there was something unnatural about him just the same. He was there, but he wasn’t. “You’re the Shadowman,” she said. “You were just in my bedroom. Did you bring me here?”
He lifted his black cowboy hat from his brow and looked long and hard at Ellie.
“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques. Dormez vous? Dormez vous?” he sang. He beckoned for Ellie to come nearer. “I know you hate that that song. You always did. But maybe we can sing it in a round. For old time’s sake.”
“Do I know you?” Ellie asked.
“Maybe. I know you. That’s all that’s important. Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, din dan don. Isn’t that how it goes?”
“Who are you?” Ellie asked. “Why did you bring me here to the little swamp on the prairie?”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re not in any immediate danger.” He pointed down the road. “Though I can’t say the same about her.” “She’s got a big problem.”
Ellie could see a figure running towards them wit
h incredible speed. “Somebody ought to sign that person to endorse running shoes,” she quipped.
“I’d get out of his way,” the cowboy suggested, “unless you want to draw attention to yourself before you have a plan.” The Shadowman grabbed the back of her T-shirt collar and drew her towards himself.
“Watch it buddy. Do that again and I’ll drop kick you in your shadow-crotch,” she said, yanking herself free. “I don’t need a plan. I need an alarm clock.”
“Quiet. Don’t let him hear you.”
“He? I thought you said she was in danger. If you can’t tell the difference, let me educate you. Never mind. Forget I said that.”
“Stay inside the bridge, Ellie. Don’t let him see you.” The Shadowman pulled her away from the wooden archway.
“Do you mind?" Ellie commented, bringing her fingers to her nose. “It stinks in here. Like skunk cabbage. It makes me want to puke.”
The runner was now approaching the creek. He had a blanket around him hiding his face and he was carrying something bulky in his arms. Something hidden, that was emitting a horrible cry.
“What the hell is that?” Ellie gasped.
“Do something,” the Shadowman said, distancing himself from Ellie and the apparition. “You’re the only one who can. The problem is also yours.”
“What’s my problem?” Ellie asked. “Other than my REM stage lasting way too long.” She turned towards the Shadowman but he had vanished. “Great. Thanks a lot for your support. Am I supposed to solve the mystery or am I supposed to hide? I am so confused.” She turned to leave, trying to remember the direction she had come from.
The figure was now at the end of the bridge staring at her, his eyes poking out from a hole between the blanket layers.
So much for hiding, Ellie realized.
“What’s the matter?” she taunted. “Didn’t the other little kids in the neighborhood want to play with you? You’re supposed to say ‘ollie-ollie-oxen-free’ before you come to find me. Now turn around and count to one hundred.”
He hissed at her.
“You have GOT to be kidding,” she laughed. “I’m sorry, dream from hell or not, nobody hisses anymore. Speak in tongues or something if you’re just trying to be scary.”
He slowly removed the blanket from around his head. His long dark hair hung in sweaty strands over an unusually angular face. He had high cheekbones—model type cheekbones—that framed his long and slender nose magnificently.
“Okay,” Ellie said cautiously, fascinated by his appearance. His features reminded her somewhat of an afghan hound. He didn’t look much older than she was. “Apparently you and I were meant to be. Acquaintances anyway. So… do you want to tell me what are you hiding under that blanket of yours? Or do you really want to play ‘I’ll show you mine?’ Because as you can see, I haven’t got anything to counter with.” She held her empty arms up and waved her hands in the air. “Nada.”
His feet shuffled uncomfortably. He lowered his head and turned to peer at the water momentarily. As his body moved, parts of the blanket draping his body became loosened.
Ellie could see a tiny patch of blue gingham poking out from beneath the bundle he was holding in his arms. It moved in the opposite direction of the twist of his torso, as if trying to get away.
She took a step closer to him.
He growled.
“Now, that’s just rude.” she said.
“Go away,” he urged.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, softening her voice. “I just want to know what you’ve got in your little bundle of joy there, and then I’ll be on my way.” She remembered the courage her Nan had shown facing the coyote earlier. She desperately wanted to summon up some of that courage for herself. “Oh hi, Nan,” she lied, waving. “Am I ever glad to see you.”
The fake-out worked. The teenager immediately turned around to see if there was someone behind him, giving Ellie the opportunity she needed. She darted towards him and pulled the blanket down from his shoulder in one fell swoop, her hand brushing against his exposed neck as she did so. He was cold. Icy cold.
The sudden human touch startled him and he accidentally released his grip on the bundle he was holding. Ellie watched in horror as a young girl tumbled from the blanket. She landed on the ground with a thud so hard, Ellie wondered if she was still alive.
The child let out a weak moan. Her little gingham-covered arms reached out towards Ellie. “Help me, Ellie. Find me.”
“I’m here,” Ellie assured her. “I’ll help you.”
The teenager turned towards Ellie, his red eyes glaring at her intently. He snarled at her again, and this time Ellie could see two sharp fangs beneath his blood red lips.
“You bastard,” Ellie shouted, reaching for the child. “Keep away from her.”
“Leave my kiddie meal alone,” the teenager screeched in an ear-shattering octave. He dragged the girl out of Ellie’s reach.
“What?” Ellie screamed in disbelief. “You’re sick, you know that?”
“A little salt, maybe a shake of pepper. She doesn’t have as much meat on the bone as I like, but she’ll do.” He looked at Ellie and licked his lips. “For starters.” He continued to drag the girl to the edge of the foul smelling water.
“Nighty-night,” he taunted, as like the biblical parting of the sea, the waters separated and the teenager disappeared into its muddy bottom with the little girl.
Ellie ran to the edge of the creek. It was really too shallow for them to have disappeared, but they were definitely gone. Ellie could only see her own reflection in the moonlit water. She shivered.
“He left the blanket behind,” the Shadowman said, startling her as he reappeared beside her. “You might as well keep warm.”
“You’ve got a lousy sense of timing,” she said to him, refusing to pick it up. “I’d rather freeze to death, thanks.”
“Your choice,” the Shadowman shrugged. “You’re as stubborn as the rest of them.”
“What do you want from me?” Ellie asked, perplexed.
“Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, din-dan-don, din-dan-don,” he sang, leaning forward to sweep a dark strand of hair from Ellie’s face. “You have been summoned Ellie. The bell that tolls, it tolls for thee.”
In the attic room on the third floor of the old Victorian house, Ellie awoke from her slumber, sat up, and let out a silent scream.
Friday...