Maeve and her two sisters, younger brother and their mother had been living with Maeve’s grandparents in an old farmhouse in the country since her parent’s divorce.
Finally, they were moving to a bigger place in town where they would have more space and, hallelujah, more than one bathroom.
Hurrying to get dressed, she bounced down the stairs, the smell of eggs and bacon pulling her toward the kitchen. Grandmas there directing the flow of traffic and swatting at her brother’s hand as he tried to sneak a pancake from the warming plate.
There seemed to be activity everywhere, and she was amazed that she’d been able to sleep through the racket. Her grandfather had organized a group of friends to haul boxes and furniture out to the street and they were all grumbling, amidst a lot of lighthearted banter, over the large accumulation of junk they had been conned into moving.
Maeve felt a sense of anticipation throughout the morning as she hurried to help with the packing and cleaning, but there was something else too. Something that kept telling her this move would change her life forever.
Once the first truck was loaded, they all piled into the family vehicles and formed a caravan, driving away down the long curving drive. Maeve turned to stare out the back window at the farm and the little house that had given them so much. She was sad to think that she would never see it again, and memories flooded her mind of the picnics and happy times they had shared.
She said goodbye to the beautiful rock gardens that bordered the irrigation canal and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that hovered around the edges of her thoughts.
They entered the downtown historic district and pulled up in front of an aged old Victorian close to the corner of Twelfth and Main streets. Maeve crawled out of the car behind her older sister and walked up the stairs to the screened in porch that stretched across the entire front part of the house. She opened the door into the small foyer and stood there gaping at the large fireplace that dominated the front room. To the left was a cozy sitting room and to the right was another larger one that hosted a long staircase leading to the second story.
She stood in shocked disbelief, knowing she had been in this house before, many times, wandering in the surrealistic fabric of her dreams.
Fearful of what she would find there, she walked through the long formal dining room with ivory walls that appeared to stretch into the distance, passed the large sunlit windows and entered the big country kitchen. As in her dream, the kitchen was painted a sunny yellow and was over half filled with a walk in refrigerator and double ovens.
This would be what had sold grandma on the house, Maeve thought, since she could cook to her heart’s content and never run out of room. Maeve looked through the back screen door onto the yard surrounded by tall rosebush hedges, the small Sound of Music gazebo placed squarely in the center, and then turned right and stared in silent dread at the stairway leading to the basement.
If her grandfather hadn’t been there with her she might never have made it down the stairs. It was he who led all the kids down to show them what was planned for the new “play room.” Maeve’s legs were shaking as she trailed behind.“Maevy wavy wiggle tail, get a move on,” the big man called from the bottom of the stairs. Maeve was filled with anxiety at what she might find down there, otherwise she would have rolled her eyes and huffed at the childish rhyme.
Her grandfather used some form of the name with all the kids and they had grown fond of it, although they would never let him know. A surge of relief came over her as she reached the bottom of the stairs and looked over the well-lit basement. No evil beings, no monsters rushing from the corners to devour the children. Just an empty basement except for the Lincoln Log cabin that granddaddy had lovingly built for them.
The others rushed back upstairs to run through the house, exploring the three levels above the basement and bickering over which one of them would get the biggest room.
Maeve walked slowly, telling herself over and over again in her mind that she must still be asleep. But as she ran her hand along the banister and felt the polished wood surface sliding solidly beneath her touch, she knew that she couldn’t possibly be dreaming. Climbing the stately staircase to the second floor, she found the master bedroom complete with the full wall mirror. She stood staring at her reflection, expecting at any second to see herself in mutton sleeves and petticoats.
“Hey Maeve,” her sister called from across the hall. “Come and see this.”
She knew her sister was calling from the bedroom with the three short steps that led down into a sunken octagon. She had seen it many times before. She left the master bedroom feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment that she hadn’t transformed before her very own eyes, and crossed the hall to see what her sister was so excited about.
This was the room Darla wanted, for the obvious reason that she would be able to sneak out at night by way of the small rooftop deck conveniently located outside the window. Maeve wished she were as daring as her sister sometimes, but she was bashful by nature and more than that, she really hated getting into trouble.
“Do you believe people can be psychic?” Maeve asked Darla as they stood outside on the little deck.
Darla looked at her like she was an idiot.“You are such a big dork.” She shook her head and walked back inside. Maeve guessed she wouldn’t be sharing her psychic experience with this sister and chided herself for even considering it.
They explored the other two large bedrooms, one with the French doors leading onto the catwalk and the other with the little bay window overlooking the roof top, and then admired the bathroom, goggling over the huge claw footed bathtub and antique pedestal sink.
She passed the bathroom and peered into a room she had never seen before that housed a stairway leading to the upper floor and attic. The room had the feel of a nursery, with pretty pink and yellow flowered wall paper and white shag carpeting. She stepped over the threshold and felt it in an instant, the overwhelming malevolence that was here, dwelling silently in this room.
Icy tendrils of fear scurried down her neck and she bolted from the room and scrambled back down the stairs. Her breath was coming in short shallow bursts as she ran, and she turned to look behind her every few seconds.
She reached the main level of the house and turned right past the front room. There in the corner was a room that she always thought of as the study. It was a quiet, decidedly masculine room, where she felt very much at home. Cherry wood bookshelves lined the walls and a heavy carved door led through to a small bathroom. She stepped through the doorway and immediately felt as if she had been here before, every step and every movement bringing with it a strong sense of déjà vu.
Maeve reflected on the memory of that time in her life, though she couldn’t say why. There had been many times in her life when she had dreamt about or envisioned something that had later manifested itself in reality. She often wondered if the dreams and visions were precognitive, or if she was conjuring the reality with her dreams. There were times when it was continually on her mind and then other times she would go for long periods without ever thinking about it.
Now it was imperative that she figure some things out. She had to block out the fear that was threatening to paralyze her and find a way to save her children.
*****
Chapter 9
“They’re okay, they’re okay, they’re okay.” But what if the girl had lied? Why would she lie if she wasn’t supposed to tell? Maeve had to believe that Claire and Torei were alive and being taken care of. They must be or she would know. She would feel it. She was certain of that.
She was more determined than ever now to get out of here and get to the kids. At least she knew now where the door was and how far she would need to reach if she were to raise it and climb through. As long as she stayed calm and used her head she knew she would have a chance. The candle was only a small stub, probably only intended to last long enough for her to eat her food. The food she could live without, but she drank
the water from the plastic container and contemplated her options, skimpy as they were.
She stood up and lifted the mattress, dense and heavy for how thin it was, and folded it over. She stepped onto the frame, the metal bars pushing painfully into the arches of her feet, and used her weight to fold the mattress over again into thirds. She stood on top of it, teetering for a moment until she could catch her balance and then tried to push up on the heavy wooden plank. It moved a fraction of an inch and then stopped, refusing to budge any farther. It would make sense that there would be some sort of lock holding it in place.
Slipping off the wobbly platform, she surveyed the small area for something she could use to slip through the crack and jimmy the latch.
“I need something flat and strong.” She thought desperately, pleading silently and then out loud, picturing in her mind a small flat crow bar or piece of metal that would serve her purpose. She ran her hands all around the bed frame and pulled at the bars but they all seemed to be welded tightly. None of the pieces moved, no matter how she leveraged her body to loosen them. She picked up what was left of the candle, using the rapidly dwindling flame to light the corners and walls, looking for anything she might have missed in her short sightless search. “Something flat and strong, there has to be something here.” It was built as a cellar so there must have been shelves here at some point to store canned or dry goods. She held the candle as close to the ceiling as she could and walked once more along the walls. In the furthest corner from the bed, in a part of the ceiling she hadn’t had time to search before the girl had shown up, there was something protruding from the corner where the wall met the ceiling. It looked like some sort of metal support bar used to hold up shelving. Elated, she ran over to the bed frame and placed the edge directly beneath the trap door so that she would be able to find it again in the dark and then hurriedly dragged the mattress over to the corner where she had seen the bracket. The candle gave a last fluttering flicker, and then it died.
*****
Joseph walked into the kitchen and startled Faye out of her wits. Carl, as always, was right on his heels and he laughed cruelly at her discomfort whenever he was near her.
Carl and Joe were twins, but they couldn’t have been more different. Faye was pretty sure Carl resented his brother because he was, technically, the older of the two by a few minutes, and had received the honor of being named after their father. Joe hated that. And why wouldn’t he? Carl was just as crazy as their father, and Joe had told her he felt like his name might have him turning into a psycho too.
“Was she awake?” Joseph had given Faye the task of sending the food down to Maeve. He didn’t want her to see his face just yet, but he chose Faye mainly because he knew her face would be disconcerting to Maeve.
“What about the food, did she eat it?”
“I don’t know. I just closed the door when I finished lowering the basket down.” Faye wasn’t about to tell him anything about what had happened.
“Did she try to escape? She tried to get away didn’t she?” Carl had a manic gleam in his eye and Faye tried to skirt around him and out the door without acknowledging his question.
“You better not have said anything to her about those kids.” He was threatening her now, tracking her with his black eyes, and she began to tremble when he grabbed her arm to keep her in the room.
Joe walked in just then and he eyed Faye, giving her a warning look. Faye dropped her eyes and stood as quietly as possible, hoping Carl would forget about her now that Joe was there.
“Hey Joe, wasn’t that cool? I mean, everything went just the way Dad said it would. Right Pop, right?” Carl’s manic behavior was scaring Faye more than ever, and she just wanted to get to her room where she could hide out and maybe go unnoticed for a while.
“What exactly are we doing dad?” Joe was looking around the room, not meeting his father’s gaze.
“The woman down there is going to be working with Dr. Makula to find a cure for your disease.” Joseph wasn’t quite sure about Joe yet and he wasn’t ready to tell him everything.
“Yeah, well, Makula’s probably going to need a cure of his own pretty soon.” Carl cackled and slapped his knee as if he’d just told the funniest joke. Joseph shot Carl a look, but it was already too late.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joe looked from Carl to his father and he could see that something was very wrong. “Where’s Dr. Makula? Did you do something to him?”
“Now Joe, don’t get yourself all worked up.” Joseph was getting really tired of placating the kid.
“He’s here too, isn’t he? Why didn’t you tell us? Where is he?”
“You’ll see him tomorrow. Now, you all get yourselves to bed and we’ll talk about it when everyone’s had a good night’s sleep.”
Joseph had no patience when it came to the kids and they could all see that he was getting ready to blow. Faye took off and went straight to her room, Joe following right behind her.
If they were holding Dr. Makula here it would have to be in the old fruit cellar. He wanted badly to go out and see if he was right, but Carl was following him to their room and he couldn’t afford to let on that he was upset over this new development. He would just have to wait for the right time and, when Carl went on watch duty and his father was sleeping, he would figure out how to set his friend free.
*****
Chapter 10
Maeve stood in the suffocating darkness and took a long steadying breath. She had to tell herself repeatedly that there was nothing lurking in the sudden darkness with her that hadn’t been there in the light.
She was unsure of herself in the dark and it took a few long seconds of feeling clumsy and uncoordinated before she was able to gather her strength and get on with it.
After a few tries she managed to fold the mattress and use the two walls of the corner to brace herself, using her full weight and the pressure of her feet to fold it in to thirds. The mattress was threatening to bounce free of her weight, but she remembered the brief wall climbing experience she’d had. She had given it up after a humiliating fall on the matt, but she drew on the memory and used her stomach muscles along with her hands on the wall to balance herself and keep her support in place.
She reached up into the corner and felt around for the brace that she knew was there. The mud brick wall was old and dry and crumbled under her fingers, giving her hope that she would be able to pull the metal piece from the wall. She found the rusted iron tucked up in the corner and when she grabbed it with both hands it moved slightly back and forth with a grating sound. She tugged and pulled and in a short minute it popped away from the wall, sending her tumbling to the floor.
She scraped her elbow on the way down and landed squarely on her tailbone, the sharp pain eliciting a squawk and then “shit!” even as she realized that she held in her hand exactly what she needed to get herself out of her makeshift prison.
“Well shit,” she said again. Her mother had always said shit was the best dirty word. “It pretty much covers everything.” She used to joke about it and Maeve figured she was pretty much right.
Maeve dragged the mattress over to the futon frame again and went through the same routine, folding the mattress in thirds and using the frame to get her balance and step on top. She pushed up on the ceiling, moving an inch at a time until she found the trap door again. When she felt the slight give, she pushed upward with her left arm and used her right to slide the metal bar into the gap. She pushed it first one way and then the other, and felt a snap as the bar pushed the lock apart and the door lifted higher. There was a very faint light coming from the room above and Maeve was fearful of the possibility that someone might be up there guarding her escape. She didn’t see that she had much choice though, as staying down here wasn’t going to get her kids back. She hadn’t been able to push the door hard enough to keep it open and she really wasn’t sure that she’d be able to pull herself up through the two foot opening in the ceiling, but she had t
o try.
Standing in thought for a few moments, she silently kicked herself for not seeing it before. As if she could actually see anything.
The memory of the trap door opening flickered through her mind and it registered that the door was within inches of one of the walls. She grabbed the futon frame, dragging it a half step until it bumped against the hard surface. She stood the frame up on end and, bracing it there, stepped onto the first bar and started climbing. The floor was hard packed dirt but gave way when she stepped on the ladder. The sharp edges of the feet embedded themselves firmly in the soil, which thankfully prevented the makeshift ladder from sliding out from under her.
The ladder was angled away from the trap door but she was close enough that she could push it up higher each time she stepped to the next bar. Her body was at an awkward angle with her head and one shoulder pushing up the door. She couldn’t go any higher and still be able to reach the edge, so she reached out with her other arm and hooked her elbow on the floor of the room above her. She took a deep breath and, with every ounce of strength she could muster, shoved off with her feet and ended up with her elbows supporting her lower body, which was hanging in the cellar, and the heavy trap door laying flat across her back. With a grunt she leveraged herself up a little farther so that she was resting on her rib cage, and then let go of the floor with one hand so she could push the door up and away from her body. She gave a great heave and the door went slamming over backward.
“So much for a quiet get away.” Cringing, she swung her leg up over the ledge with another small grunt, and then she was out! She crawled on her hands and knees away from the hole and lifted her head to peer around what looked to be a fairly modern, well equipped kitchen.
Maeve literally felt her heart stop beating the second her eyes landed on the man seated at a table directly in front of her. And then it nearly exploded through her throat as she rose to a crouch and then straitened to full battle stance, ready to fend off the attack that was sure to come.