A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events (20 page)

“
If I will remain in this
prison forever, then you will be mine. You will be everything I
could not be. I will destroy you from the inside out. I will undo
your every bit. I will reconstruct you to destroy you again. You
are forever my thing and my muse. You are my little Binky. Forever,
forever you’re my agony.”

RETURN TO THE TABLE OF
CONTENTS

The Wheezing Man

“
Whoooa!
We’re halfway there! Whoa-oh! Livin’ on a prayer!” The car had
turned into the Hollywood Palladium, blaring with the righteous
anthem from Bon Jovi. The Quinn family was on its way up North to
Columbus, Ohio, after Jefferson Quinn received a well-paying
executive job in the region. However, the tale of their journey,
one that seemed as absolutely normal as any relocation event would
call for, took a harrowing twist somewhere between one location and
the next. Something called to them; something worse than the small
family could have ever expected. At the end of their journey, there
was no promise of success and fortune, but instead awaited
something older and more terrible than they would know
existed
—a storm of events that
would change the world forever. In this storm, the Quinn family
would arrive at the very eye.

“
What in
the world is
that
?” The youngest Quinn, Bradley,
pointed to a strange figure staked crudely into the ground, only a
few yards behind the sign denoting the family had arrived in a
small town called Glencoe, Kentucky.

Jefferson and his wife,
Miranda, followed the pointing finger before the image zoomed off
and behind the car, seeming almost as if it were moving away from
them once in their mirrors. The image was that of a sort of
scarecrow or effigy of some sort, made mostly of straw. A white,
long-sleeved shirt, bright and new in the springtime sun, showed
that there was some care by someone in the locale to maintain the
figure. What seemed strangest about it, causing a deserving second
look, was that the head of the creature was merely a ring of curved
straw hay, leaving a wide, open circle in the center of what would
have been the figure’s face. Miranda shuddered as she turned away,
before glancing up to the sky, which had become treacherous and
unstable.

“
Jeff,
do you think we should pull over? We’re in a tornado watch and I’m
thinking this is going to get worse.” Miranda was from Oklahoma and
knew a thing or two about terrible tornadoes. Now, the sky was
taking on an ominous green tone, almost always a telltale sign that
the dark clouds overhead were interested in beginning their
descent. Miranda always thought of it as she thought of someone
sick and nauseous; when the green came on, one should fear what
promised to spew forth.

Jefferson turned his eyes
to the clouds himself, driving down the straight, unchanging road,
minding only the signs that suggested he slowed down. For what,
however, he was unsure. There were no people outside. The buildings
were as well-kept as the shirt donned by the straw figure at the
town’s threshold, but not one of the buildings seemed to be alive
with lights or inhabitants. It was the second that Jefferson had
made up his mind to stop that the radio came through, making his
decision seem best.

“
...there is a tornado
warning issued for the following counties: Boone, Campbell,
Carroll, Gallatin, Grant... please seek immediate cover in a
designated shelter...” And the broadcast went on to repeat itself.
Jeff and Miranda looked at each other, then back to their children,
Bradley, who was well aware of what was happening, and Chelsie,
who’d been busy bopping her head while listening to her music and
staring at the sky. Chelsie didn’t need to receive the message to
know that things were getting bad enough to warrant a stop. Jeff
pulled into the post office parking lot, which was riddled with
what seemed to be the majority of the town’s cars. The sign visible
near the entrance suggested that the rather large, brick building
was a tornado shelter.

Jeff looked back to the
kids and began his direction. “Alright, I need you guys to grab
only your suitcase and nothing else. I don’t want to be out here
any longer than...” And he paused. Though Bradley was listening
intently, Jeff’s older child, Chelsie, a teenager these days and
beginning her rebellious phase, was simply staring at him, while
the long, white cords of her earbuds dangled around her head. In
the silence, Jeff could hear that the music was still blaring into
her fragile ears, but the girl never listened to his advice to turn
it down. “Excuse me?” Jeff’s eyes went wide with impatience. The
look brought Chelsie to pull the earbuds from her ears and listen,
as frustrated as she could.

Jeff continued. “Grab your
suitcase and we’re going right into the post office. It looks like
this is a shelter. We’ll just wait it out here until the storm
passes, alright? Hopefully it won’t be too long.” And with that
Jeff opened the driver’s side door, popped the trunk and made his
way to help the others retrieve their luggage.

Miranda and the others
followed suit, waiting as each bag was handed their way.
Inevitably, the sky tore open and rain started pouring down, almost
all at once, drenching the family within moments and speeding up
their efforts to get inside.

When each of them had
their bags and the car was locked up, the sopping family ushered
itself toward the doors of the post office. The front of the
building was lined with large windows, which seemed a terrible
choice for a tornado shelter, but Jeff assured himself (as no one
was visible through the windows in the main lobby) that the
sheltered area was somewhere downstairs, inside of the otherwise
solid building. The door was unlocked and each of them filed in,
dripping down onto the linoleum floors.

Jeff called out, hoping
for a response and some direction. There were no signs, despite
there being so many cars, directing where the best place for cover
would have been. “Hello? Is anyone here? There’s a tornado warning!
We’re just passing through, can someone help us out?” And there was
nothing for sound but the pounding of rain outside and the
accompanying roar of thunder.

Miranda glanced Jeff’s way
before trying to discern the best route herself. “Awfully quiet.”
She’d been to her share of shelters and almost each of them were
busy with the sound of impatient children or crying babies. There
wasn’t a peep in response to their inquiry.

Thunder crashed hard and
close and it drew the family to move instinctively away from the
fragile glass windows and toward the counters where mail was
usually shuffled to and fro. Jeff pulled his suitcase along by the
handle as he moved around the side of the counter, to a large,
metal door that read “basement/package storage.”

“
Miranda, I think this may
be it.” And Jeff gestured for the others to move along with him. He
placed his hand on the metal knob and turned until the door opened.
Desperately in need of an oiling, the hinges of the door screamed
as the heavy door rotated on them. Yet, it wasn’t the sound of the
door that caught Jefferson’s attention when the stairs behind them
were revealed. Instead, it was a drone, like that which sounded
much like a large hive of bees, busy at work. The sound, however,
fell away the second the creaking hinges hit their high, climactic
note, and then there was silence.

Jefferson looked back to
Miranda, who seemed oblivious of the sound, causing him to ask.
“Did you hear the
—”
But another voice came from below.

“
Something we can help you
with, sir?” The voice was male and aged. The sound caused Jeff’s
head to whip back toward the parted door, to find the
source.

An older man, in a fine,
white shirt and white pants stood at the bottom of the stairs,
while Jeff watched intensely. The man at the stairs’ base seemed
more frustrated than welcoming.

“
Y-Yes, my family and I
were just passing through your town here and a tornado warning just
came through on the radio. There were a bunch of cars outside and a
sign near the door that indicated this place was a shelter? We were
hoping to wait out the weather, if you don’t mind.” And Jeff
certainly hoped, despite the man’s attitude, that he wouldn’t have
a problem with their stay.

It was then that another
man came behind the first, then a third behind the second, until,
eventually, there was a group of about ten people, all dressed in
white, all curious and uncertain of the arrival of the family at
the top of the stairs. Jeff and his family remained huddled where
they were, wet and curious of what was unfolding. Jeff’s first
thoughts made him consider that he’d wandered into some sort of
cult, with each of them dressed as they were. Of course, cults, he
thought, were things that rich, bored people put together, not
rural towns in Kentucky, right off of the main highway. For this
reason and a few others, he considered anything else that would
have called for them having dressed all the same way, such as some
sort of other religious calling or even each of them being
employees of the same company. Jeff recalled seeing similar dress
in spas, but, again, Glencoe, Kentucky didn’t scream “great spa
location.” Instead of commenting on the arrival of the group, Jeff
remained silent.

“
You may stay, but
understand that we’ll be locking down this facility for the
remainder of this event. No one will be leaving.” The old man said,
warningly.

Suddenly the storm outside
seemed like a less threatening situation than what was being
suggested by the man and his group at the base of the stairs.
Something about them didn’t seem quite right. Still, they didn’t
seem welcoming of Jeff’s family, hardly extending any sort of open
hospitality. Instead, they seemed troubled and uncertain of
outsiders.

Jeff spoke for his family,
despite seeing his wife’s concern. “That’s not a problem. We’ll
stay just as long as we need to. We’re on our way to Columbus, but
we have plenty of things to hold us over and some food.”

The old man responded, his
bright blue eyes losing their shade as he stepped toe-to-step at
the base of the stairs. “You won’t be needing it.”

Jeff cocked his head,
curiously. “Won’t be needing... what? The food?”

And the group in white
turned and began stepping back down the hall. The slant of the
ceiling, which architecturally followed the angle of the stairs,
caused the group to slip from sight almost immediately. When they
were gone, Jeff looked back to his family.

“
Well, they’re all sort of
strange.” Jeff said in a whisper. “But I don’t think we have much
of a choice at this point, do we?”

Miranda bit her lip as she
usually did when concerned. Bradley took on his mother’s concerned
look and imitated her best he could. Chelsie, however, was as
indifferent as usual.

“
Whatever. It’s some
Podunk town in Kentucky. What do you expect, Dad?” And Chelsie
didn’t mind whispering, partially because she was young and
reckless, but also because the music was playing in her ear again,
not allowing her to realize how loud she was being.

Jefferson and the other
Quinn’s weren’t allowed much time to decide, as the events that
unfolded a moment later made their decision for them, suggesting
they’d be sticking out the storm with the company of the strange
group below. Large, metal shutters began moving over the glass
windows and the door near the post office’s entrance. The squeaking
and creaking of rubbing metal and the groaning buzz of struggling
motors trying to deploy the metal covering filled the room. Second
by second, the family watched as the storm and the outside, plagued
with heavy rain and threatening clouds disappeared, masked by the
shutters until they locked into place at the bottom of the windows.
The room was absolutely dark. It drew Jeff’s eyes to the stairwell
again, where a dim light was on at the base. There, he saw a new
figure standing where the odd group had only minutes prior. It was
a young girl, with long, straight hair, a white dress and a white
bow in her hair. She seemed to be innocently watching the family in
the darkness above, with her hands clasped together in front of
her, her head tilted down shyly, but her bright eyes, blue like
that of the man, high and curious. A light flickered on in the room
above, where the Quinn family stood awkwardly, but it faded a
second later, as would happen with an over-energized bulb that
burnt out the second it was lit. Jeff finally waved for his family
to descend and took a hold of Bradley’s suitcase to ensure he
didn’t go down the stairs with it.

The family followed
Jefferson’s lead. Step by step, Jefferson moved closer to the base
of the stairs and the little girl that waited near it.

Mildly, Jefferson said,
“Hello.”

The little girl smiled for
a split second and then again fell stoic. She responded with an
equally quick, “Hello.”

The presence of the girl,
though as odd as any of the other events concerning the
townspeople, seemed less concerning. “I’m Jeff. What’s your name?”
Asking simple questions, as one would a young child.

“
I’m Fallon.” And the
articulation of the “a’s” and o’s” in the girl’s name showed her
missing front teeth.