Year's End: 14 Tales of Holiday Horror (10 page)

She heard the dog join her son on the couch. The sounds of shrieks and chainsaws drifted out of the living room. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but his father had left a sheepish message on her voicemail that morning.
Hey, uh…Deirdre decided she wanted to have a party and…adults only, you know…so, I need to send Jack back early. I’ll drop him off at eight.
She could practically hear Deirdre chortling in the background. Seth sounded the same—halting, slow, and somewhat apologetic, but unwilling to cross his new wife. It was the same voice he used when he admitted to cheating, when he asked for the divorce, when he was late on child support, and when he gave Jack the dog.
We found this dog, and Jack really likes it, and…he’s with you most of the time anyway, and Deirdre doesn’t like dogs…
And, like every time, she’d swallowed her anger and taken it.

Drying her hands, she went out into the living room. She averted her eyes from the television. “Hey, Jack, you want anything?”

He looked sidelong at her, shoveling popcorn into his mouth with one greasy hand. He shook his head silently. Wobbles took the opportunity to lick the salt from his fingers.

“Well, let me know when your movie is over. I want to watch the ball drop.”

“That’s
stupid
,” said Jack. “I don’t wanna watch some stupid ball fall off a pole. Like, make it a happy new year by breaking some glass thing. Whatever.”

“They don’t actually break it.” Arguing with a thirteen-year-old was pointless. She thought about suggesting he might like seeing the musical acts, but he’d reply it was stupid; he only liked heavy metal and rap anyway. Always trying to be such a tough guy, and Seth bought him any junk he wanted. The horror movies, the music, the clothes that slouched off his thin frame and dragged on the ground.

She went back to the kitchen, turning on the radio. For a moment, she imagined she was in New York, huddled up in the crowd, cheering. She pictured the snowflakes fluttering down in the neon lights. Resting her face in her hands, she let her mind drift until she felt a cold little tongue on the top of her foot. “Wobbles, piss off,” she muttered. He licked her again. She knew better than to take it as affection; he wanted food, that was all. “Jack, come feed your dog!”

“Oh come
on
, this is the best part!”

“Jack!”

Jack heaved a dramatic sigh and stomped into the kitchen, throwing food into Wobbles’ bowl before running back into the living room. The Lhasa snuffled and started eating, crunching loud enough to disrupt her fantasy, and she went back to her dishes. People lit firecrackers and hollered outside.

At first she thought it was the chainsaw in the movie. Abandoning his food, Wobbles was lying by the wall in the laundry room, growling steadily. A rat, its scaly pink tail coiled around its feet, stared back at him. Lynn grabbed the broom from the corner, but before she could swing, Wobbles lunged. Squealing, the rat fled to the corner and, to Lynn’s horror, slipped into a crack near the floor. She groaned and dropped the broom. “Where the hell did
that
come from?”

Wobbles stayed down, nose near the floor, trying to wedge his face into the crack. “Hey. Hey, Ugly Dog. Get out of there before you get bit.” She grabbed the dog and slid him back across the tile, trying to look into the crack. Jack’s movie went quiet, and in the stillness came a shriek from within the wall. Lynn pulled Wobbles back against her chest and pinned him there, afraid the rat would come flying out again and bite him. Another shriek, a scuffling sound, and the rat’s tail lolled out onto the tile, smearing blood in a crescent across the floor. It spasmed once and lay still.

Lynn stared at it. It must have been caught on a nail in the wall. The whole place was falling to pieces anyway. She felt Wobbles beat his tail against her stomach, and he tilted his head back to lick her chin. “Thanks for trying,” she muttered, rubbing his head before calling for Jack. “Come get your dog, would you? I have something to clean up.”

Jack moaned and slouched into the kitchen, taking the dog. “What now?”

“That,” Lynn said, pointing to the tail.

“
Sick
,” Jack said with delight. “What is that?”

“Dead rat. And if I don’t get it out of there, it’s going to make the whole house stink.” She mentally made a list of what she’d need: gloves, a bag, something to scoop it out with. She shuddered and tried not to gag at the thought of dragging the skinned remains out. “But before that,” she added, “I need a drink.”

She pulled the midnight champagne from the fridge and popped the cork. “It’s midnight somewhere, right?”

“Yeah.” Jack shrugged, and put Wobbles in the bedroom. He looked toward the living room, then stopped. “You need help or something?”

“Actually, yeah. You can hold the bag. So…” She pulled a glass out and poured the champagne, and pushed it over to him. He looked at her skeptically. “Go on. I’m not gonna tell if you won’t.”

He cracked a smile and tasted it, wrinkling his nose. “This stuff is kinda nasty, Mom.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” She clinked her glass against his. “Happy new year, kiddo.”

“Happy new year, Mom.” He took another sip.

“Jack, I’m…I’m sorry. I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend the holiday.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s Deirdre’s fault.” He shrugged uncomfortably and, looking for something to do, rummaged in the refrigerator for a liter of bright green soda. He poured it in on top of the champagne.

“Now
that
is gross,” she laughed. “And I know, but I know how much you wanted to see your dad.”

“It’s okay. I think he’d rather hang out with her than me anyway.” He looked down into his glass, and for a moment that tough guy veneer vanished. He swirled the soda around.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah? I mean, I wrecked your plans too.”

“You didn’t wreck my plans, honey. Okay, so I wasn’t going to watch horror movies, but at least this way I have someone to share the evening with.” She pulled him into a hug. “Don’t ever think you’re not welcome here.”

He hugged her back, hard, then stepped away and tasted the drink.

“Did the soda help?”

He laughed. “No. It’s awful!” He poured it into the sink, giggling. “Really nasty.” He added, “So after my movie is done, we could watch something else if you want. Just not too girly.” Wobbles’ scratching on the door grew more intense, and he began to whine. Jack let him back out. He ran to the edge of the laundry room and lay down, snuffling.

“I’m sure we can compro—” Lynn stopped, tilting her head. Jack followed her gaze. The crack had grown, spreading up the wall. The base of the crack widened, and the rat’s skeletal feet slid out, and the tail fell away, detached. “What the hell is that?” she said.

“An open portal to Hell,” said Jack, giggling and curling his fingers like claws. “I saw this one movie where—” She gave him a look that silenced him. His silly mood disappeared. “Sorry. I don’t know. At school they said there’s lots of little earthquakes around here, like you don’t feel them, but maybe it was that.”

“I think if it was strong enough to crack the wall, we’d have felt it.” Stepping back, she pushed Jack back behind her. Dimly she heard the cheer rise from the radio, and then the chatter stopped, slipping into a dull hiss of static. Wobbles growled, but he didn’t move.

Someone screamed in the living room, and Lynn jumped back enough to slam into the counter, striking the small of her back on the corner. “Go turn that movie off,” she gasped.

Jack obeyed, calling, “It’s weird, Mom, there’s like no TV on anymore, it’s all just gray.”

Lynn stared at the crack, trying to explain it away. It was an old house, not particularly strong to begin with, but even an old house wouldn’t crack like this. For a moment she was overwhelmed with the
unfairness
of it all. Seth was in his house with his white, dog-free carpet and new sofas, and she was left in a falling apart bungalow. He didn’t deal with spraying for roaches or repairing the peeling wallpaper.

The rat’s foot twitched and disappeared, sucked back into the wall. Lynn pushed Wobbles back with her foot, sliding back along the edge of the counter. In the rat’s place, moving the tail aside, the tip of something slipped out of the crack. Not a tail; it moved with careful deliberation, examining the crack and floor, rat tail and Wobbles’ food dish. Like the antennae of a roach, but infinitely longer, and slender. Whispers followed, something in the wall muttering unintelligibly. And from within the crack, a circle that reflected light and shone back at her, watching.

That was enough. Jack hesitated in the doorway of the living room, illuminated from behind by the snow of the television. She had his hand in hers and, without thinking, half dragged him to the garage. “Mom, Mom, what was it? Where are we going?”

She pulled him down the steps and pushed him toward the car, running around to the driver’s side, throwing herself down in the seat as Wobbles went up and over her into the back. She jammed her fingers against the ignition as she fumbled with the keys, but the car roared to life and she backed down the driveway into the street, pausing to look through the lit kitchen window. The house looked so sane from here. “Something in the wall,” she managed, struggling for breath.

“What?”

Nothing happening. She took a moment to take a shaky breath. She hadn’t had that much champagne. She looked back at Wobbles, who was still growling softly. “I don’t know. An antenna, or a feeler. Big.”

The lights in the house went out. Lynn peeled off into the night, bringing startled cries from the partygoers in the street. “Find a radio station,” she said. Jack scanned the radio. Wave after wave of static. “Try the AM.”

“How come there’s nothing on?” Jack asked, his voice faltering.

“I don’t know. Maybe a solar flare or something.”

“But it’s nighttime.”

“It doesn’t matter. It can happen anytime.”

She pulled the car over to a stop for moment to scan the channels herself.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw this one show on TV, about this group of people who thought the world would end tonight. Do you think they mean that?”

“Baby, someone thinks that every new year’s. But midnight already happened all over the world.” Her clock read 11:23. Theirs was on the way. She looked back at him, sitting wide-eyed and pale in the streetlight. All those horror movies, and it was a news broadcast that got him. She smiled a little in spite of herself. “Jack, it’s okay. I don’t know what that was, and I don’t know about the radio or TV, but we’ll figure it all out, okay?” She pulled him close for a hug. “In the meantime, we’ll go to a hotel. And everything will look better tomorrow.” She certainly didn’t feel that way, but she had said things like that so many times. Jack nodded a little and pressed against her, then pulled back.

This neighborhood was quieter. Through the window, she saw a man fiddling with his television. “See, Jack, it’s not just us.”

“Mom.”

“Hang on, I need to decide where to go.”

“But,
Mom
!” She looked at where he was pointing. In the house across the street, a silhouette of another man walked by the window, carrying a rifle. There was a flash and Lynn ducked at the roar of the gun, pulling Jack down under her. It went off twice more, and in the house a woman screamed. The neighbors peered out of their houses. The street went dark. Lynn looked up at the dark streetlights, and checked on Jack. The only light now was the dim blue glow of the clock and the lights from the dashboard.

“Mom, just go, just go!”

She did. “Jack. Get my phone and call the police. Tell them we’re on Ivy Street, and someone just fired a gun.”

He did, sweaty fingers slipping on the numbers. Wobbles barked in the backseat. After a few moments, he said, “It’s busy.”

“How can it be busy? It’s 9-1-1, for heaven’s sake.”

“It’s just busy, Mom.” She heard him dialing again.

“Who are you calling?”

Dimly, through the phone, she heard Seth, party sounds in the background. Of course. “Hi, what is it?”

“Dad?” Jack’s composure was failing, and he sounded younger by the minute. “Dad, can we come to your house?”

Emotion came into Seth’s voice for once. “Jack, what’s going on? Sure, you can, but what’s happening? Where’s your mom?”

“She’s here. There was something in the house and the power’s out and the radio’s out and there was a man with a gun—”

“Slow down, Jack. Who had a gun? Can I talk to your mom?”

Lynn held out her hand for the phone, but Jack clung to it, near tears. “Please Dad…”

“Hang on just a second, son—Deidre? What was that?”

Jack held the phone away from his ear, staring in disbelief. The sounds that emanated from the phone dissolved into screaming chaos. He looked at her helplessly. “We need to help Dad!”

Lynn shook her head. “We can’t, Jack.”

“But we
have
to.”

“With what?” Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. Two years ago she’d have given anything for Seth. But now, everything was Jack. “I’m sorry,” she added, wiping tears with the back of her hand. “I know you want to help him, honey. I do too. But whatever this is…we just can’t.” She silenced the phone. Jack sobbed beside her, and Wobbles licked his face. He pulled the dog against his chest.

She struggled to gain composure. There would be time to cry later. Now she had to move. Maybe it was only the city that was experiencing this. The next big city was two hours south. She had enough gas. Turning off the radio, she drove out of the neighborhood to the highway. There was a fair amount of traffic in both directions, but nothing unusual. What was unusual were the massive dark pockets in the city, and one by one, sections of the city went dark. Jack didn’t look up.

The sky was full of stars. She hadn’t realized how many until all the lights were gone. They shimmered sanely in the cold air. Lynn took a couple of deep breaths. “I think we’ll be okay.”

Jack’s tears eased, but his voice shook. “Do you think it got Dad?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“Or Deirdre?”