The People Next Door (27 page)

He slipped on the area rug and slammed into the front door, but caught the knob just in time to keep from falling. He threw
it open with a quivering bang as it rebounded off the spring doorstop, and then he was leaping over all six stairs, flying
from porch to lawn. He landed in the grass and his left ankle (the same one he had twisted falling into the Render’s yard)
failed him again. He collapsed and rolled away from the house, swatting at the air, making bizarre sounds and thrashing as
if on fire. He sprang to his feet and glanced back at the open front door.

Eugene and Virginia Sapphire were not in the foyer.

‘Sir, I’m going to ask you to stop right there, right now!’ a man said.

Mick yelled again and turned to see a tall and whip-thin young man in blue work pants, a white button-down shirt with a gold
tag, and blue baseball cap, holding a Maglite the size of a baseball bat over one ear. Behind him was a small white car with
a blue badge magnet on
the door, a little orange toy siren on the top, not yet flashing. Neighborhood security, some private outfit. The kid was
probably not old enough to buy alcohol and he was definitely scared. Mick put his hands up and glanced from the kid to the
front door and back.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Mick said, his words jumbled, coming too fast. ‘I know them, they’re sick, it’s awful, something horrible
happened, you have to—’

‘Sir! Calm down, sir, and stay right where you are!’ The kid did not lower the Maglite. If he had a gun, Mick knew, it would
be aimed at his chest. With his free hand, the kid reached for a microphone clipped to his epaulet.

‘D Unit six, this is Troy,’ the kid said. ‘I am at 22 Pine Knoll with possible intruder. Confirming ident, please stand by.’

The shoulder mic squawked. ‘Ten-four, Troy. You need back-up?’

‘I said stand by, Dallas.’

‘Okay, tough guy,’ Dallas said.

‘Intruder?’ Mick had a vision involving real police cars and policemen with real guns arriving to lock him up. ‘No. I know
them. I am, I was a friend of the Sapphires. He works for me, but listen, something awful happened. They’re supposed to be—’

Troy the security guard regarded Mick perhaps one per cent less suspicion. ‘What is your business here tonight, sir? Did you
get permission to enter this residence?’

‘Permission?’

With his free hand, Troy removed a small canister
from a Velcro pouch at his waistline, probably mace. ‘Our office was not made aware of any visitors and I am responding to
an alarm.’

‘I’m telling you, I know them, but those people—’

‘What is your relationship to the occupants?’

‘He’s my accountant. One of my father’s best friends.’

‘Does Mr Sapphire know you were stopping by?’

‘He didn’t, but he wouldn’t mind—’

‘Why were you running?’ Troy interrupted.

Mick blinked dumbly at Troy. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘What don’t I understand, sir?’

‘They … I saw … they’re in there.’

‘Who? Sir, are you telling me someone’s in the house now? Why didn’t they come out? Is someone hurt?’

Mick had become untethered. Reality was a balloon on a string and it was floating away. He was struck with the realization
that he could not possibly have seen what he had just seen. The Sapphires had been transformed by something …

‘Sir? Who did you see, sir? Is there someone in this house?’

Mick turned to the door. ‘Check the house.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Check the house. I saw someone in the bedroom, at the end of the hall.’

Troy reached for his shoulder mic, thumbed the switch, then released it. He stared at Mick with a new kind of unease and stepped
back a few paces, as if he were afraid of catching whatever this intruder was carrying.

‘What was it you saw, exactly?’

Mick knew what he had seen, but saying it out loud was impossible.

‘H-hey, how did you get inside, anyway? We make sure the doors are locked.’

‘I used a hide-a-key,’ Mick said.

‘And how’d you know where to find that?’

‘I’ve been here before.’

‘Uh-huh. And what did you say your name was again?’

‘Render. Vince Render.’ It came to him without thought.

‘Okay, Mr Render. You want to tell me exactly what happened?’

Mick almost laughed, but it wasn’t funny. ‘I’m not sure I can do that, Troy.’

‘See, I have to call this in one way or another.’

‘Are you going to look inside?’ Mick said.

‘That is standard procedure. Should I expect something or someone inside?’

‘I … I don’t know.’

‘Sir, if you don’t mind my saying, you don’t look well. Would you like me to radio for an ambulance?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I have to file a report,’ Troy said. ‘I need you to stay here while I inspect the house. If you flee, I will be forced
to call the police. Probably have to call them anyway, but you won’t be doing yourself any favors.’

‘Just check the bedroom. I’ll come with you.’

‘Afraid I can’t allow that.’

Mick rubbed his eyes. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll wait.’

‘Do you have any weapons on your person?’

‘What? No.’

Troy spoke into his shoulder mic, apprising his coworkers of the situation. ‘The intrude — uhm, the visitor is cooperating.
Give me a minute here, Dallas.’

He gave Mick a final look of warning.

‘I’m not going to make trouble for you,’ Mick said. ‘Just be careful.’

Troy the security guard swung his flashlight around and entered the Sapphire residence. Mick stood on the lawn and counted
to one hundred before joining him.

I bolted awake but could not bring myself to move as the screams split the night like lightning. There were breaks in between,
some as brief as twenty seconds, others as long as six minutes. A scream, then silence. A scream, then silence. Four or five
in a row … and then nothing for ten or fifteen minutes.

I lay there sweating on the bed, watching the blades of the ceiling fan turning above us, listening for more. Maybe it was
the roosters, I lied to myself. Traces of a nightmare I had been having. I couldn’t be sure of what I’d heard between the
crash and hiss of the waves down below and the lightning and thunder. I tell myself now that if I had heard the screams just
one more time,I would have gotten up. I might have gotten there in time to prevent something, save someone. But they didn’t
come.

Eventually the storm lulled me back to sleep.

I was under for scarcely more than a few minutes when something strong and cold took hold of my leg at the ankle, shaking
it. I sat up violently to find Bob Percy standing at the end of the bed. He was an enormous shadow, just standing there watching
us.

How I refrained from screaming at the sight of Bob Percy watching my wife and me sleep, I am not sure, but I did. My wife
did not stir when Bob said in a low, even voice, ‘Come on, you have to see this,’ and then turned and walked out of the bedroom.

I put on my sneakers, pants and the thin jacket from earlier, and found Bob waiting for me in the living room. He was holding
a flashlight. He pointed it at his arm and then lit himself from under the chin. ‘It’s gone,’ he said. He was right about
that. There was no sign of the silver iridescence I had seen earlier on or in his skin. He looked the same as he had yesterday,
pink from too much sun.

I was relieved but sensed this news was not the reason he had woken me. Reluctantly I followed him out into the night. He
would not answer my questions as we walked, only repeated the phrase, ‘You’ll see, you’ll see.’ The rain had subsided but
the ground was wet all around us and we tracked through the mud of the dirt road, leaving footprints on the main driveway
that forked to the other villas. I was sure something had gone wrong with Lynn and the kids, but Bob did not lead me to his
place. Instead he veered to the opposite end, to the last villa in his row of six. He went up the sidewalk and opened the
front door without knocking.

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, halting on the porch. ‘Tell me what it is first.’

Bob only shook his head, his expression far colder than any I had seen in the previous days. You won’t believe me, his eyes
seemed to say. You have to see it for yourself.

My curiosity had the better of me. I followed him inside. The villa was similar to ours, with two suites upstairs and two
smaller bedrooms at the back of the first floor, a kitchen and bathroom in the center, and a living space near the front where
we entered. He showed me the lower bathroom first. The pink tile floor and scalloped stucco walls had been transformed into
an abattoir. The bathtub was clogged with something that looked like a lot of black human hair and it was filled nearly to
the rim with blood. The walls were streaked with red handprints, and something had managed to spray the ceiling. The basin
sink, the mirror, the floor. Even in my shocked state, I understood this could not have come from one person. What we were
seeing was the product of several people. There was gallons of it.

‘Where are they?’ I croaked.

Bob did not answer but led me through the rest of the house. Each time we entered another room, I prepared myself (as if such
a thing were possible) for the sight of exploded bodies, leaking orifices, something out of a cholera or ebola epidemic. But
all of the remaining rooms were empty and clean. The people who had rented this villa, the Greenwald family of Nevada, were
nowhere to be found.

We searched the second villa in the row. There were four bedrooms – two master suites, a double, and one with bunk beds for
the kids, for a total of five beds. All five beds were soaked through to the mattresses with blood. The bedding was streaked
with pieces of what was unquestionably human flesh and what I could only
assume were traces of organ lining. Trails of blood had been dripped across the floors, down the stairway, splashing the walls,
and I had no doubt that the Robertson family, who had checked in five days ago from Charlotte, North Carolina, were dead.
Dead and more than likely
drained
.

‘Did you call the police? A hospital?’ I asked Bob Percy, and it was a wonder I still had the capacity for speech by then,
because I was in shock and terrified beyond the ability to think rationally.

‘The lines are down,’ he said, nodding at the ceiling as if the phone lines were in there.

‘What about cell phones?’

‘Mine doesn’t work down here. Does yours?’

I patted my pocket before realizing I’d left it plugged into the wall back in our bedroom. But I had used it on the island
a few times and the service was fine in most locations.

‘Mine works,’ I told Bob, and began to walk away, but he stopped me, once again grabbing my arm.

‘Don’t leave me alone with this,’ Bob said. ‘We need to see about the others first. Tracking down the police at this hour
is going to take a while. If you go now it might be too late.’

Bob was calm. I guess you could say he was in charge at that moment. ‘It won’t take long,’ he said. ‘We do this first, then
you go make sure your family is safe.’

That sounded so reasonable at the time.

The third villa was the same as the other two, except this time all the carnage was confined to the kitchen and
dining area. The Chavezes, a wealthy family who split time between Miami and San Juan but took long weekends every couple
of months on Vieques, had been enjoying a locally prepared dinner of whole chicken in a
sofrito
and fried plantains when it – whatever
it
was – came for them.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said to Bob. ‘Who did this?’

‘Not who,’ he said. ‘What.’

I stared at him in the darkened Chavez villa, waiting for an explanation.

Bob led me to the fourth villa. I did not want to go inside.

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I told Bob, waiting on the porch.

‘They were all in the bathroom,’ he said. ‘Trying to get rid of it. The whole family ran in there and it just accelerated,
took them down like a goddamn blood hurricane.’

Four. Four dead families.

‘The Weavers caught it too,’ he said, gesturing at the fifth villa. Five dead families. ‘They all did.’

‘But where are the bodies?’ I asked him. ‘Did you move them?’

I won’t say Bob Percy smiled, but his mouth twitched slightly, one side curling. ‘You’ll see,’ he said. ‘This is where it
gets interesting.’

‘Bob, no, I don’t want to see. We need to call the police now, no more.’

I think I was yelling at him at this point, I’m not sure, but at any rate he slapped me. Hard across the mouth.

‘Get a hold of yourself. We can’t call anybody until you
understand
.’

I was angry, frightened to the point of shaking, but I followed him. He led me to the last villa, his own. We entered the
larger of the two master suites, both of which were clean. We walked past the bed, out onto the balcony. They had a spectacular
ocean view, and the balcony was large enough to seat half a dozen people. There were four chairs and a small table with candles
that had been snuffed by rain. The ocean before us was roiling black under the black and gray clouds.

‘We were having drinks, watching the storm,’ Bob said. ‘We don’t even remember it coming on. We just came around knowing it
had happened.’

Only then did I look down and see that we were standing on a floor of blood. In the dark it was black and I had mistaken the
wetness for rain. There was a grated drain in the center, which was even at that moment funneling the rainwater and some of
the blood down a drainpipe, onto the lawn. I was very glad to be wearing sneakers and I noted that Bob was still standing
in his flip-flops and that his toes and ankles were speckled with more black dots and splashes.

I backed away from him, reaching for the sliding door to keep from tripping as I turned, but Bob took hold of my arm again
and refused to let me go. He shoved me to the terrace’s wall and pointed down.

Thirty feet below us, in the swimming pool, were the people.