Burn, Baby, Burn by Michael Seale (Chapter 27)

 Chapter 27

Curiosity killed…

 There were two cars in her drive. She wasn’t alone; he knew she wouldn’t be. It didn’t matter; he thought. He only wanted to watch her. It wasn’t time yet, but soon. He walked through the yard and ducked under the maple tree that loomed above the house. Its canopy was full and cast a shadow across the lawn. The moon was high and the starry night was cool. A light from the house spilled onto the grass. He stood just next to the window that looked into the kitchen; he could hear their muted voices. The man was angry, his voice loud and gruff. The woman cried, claiming it scared her. That made him smile. He could see their movements across the kitchen. Two bottles of wine sat on the small table. The big man was holding the bitch. It disgusted him, filled him with jealous anger. 

 They would go to sleep soon, and then he might go in. Take something. Take something so she would know that he had been there. But what, he thought. He made his way around the house to the bedroom. Below the window was the flower bed, or what should have been the flower bed. It had become a den of thick weeds and dead brush. He stood there in the shadows and waited for them to go to sleep. He smoked. 

 A cat strolled by, brushing itself against his legs. That’s when his idea came. Perhaps he didn’t have to take anything. Perhaps he could leave something. He picked the cat up and stroked it. It purred in his hands. The feline was white with large patches of black. It was small and trusting. The cat relaxed and let the man pet it. With his powerful hands, it took a little. The cat barely fought, scratching at his wrist. There was a loud pop, and the animal went limp in his arms. 

The lights were out; waiting until he knew they were asleep. He let himself in the same as before. Quietly made himself at home; drinking from the wine they left on the table. Watching them from the doorway to the bedroom as they slept soundly, the dead limp cat hung at his left side. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth. The man snored softly, and the bitch draped her arm across his chest. She had once slept with him like that; he thought. 

 He made his way back to the kitchen and turning the oven on. Slitting the cat open with a knife, he pulled its insides out. He shoved the bloody mess inside. By the time they woke up, the smell of burnt fur and cooked flesh would penetrate the old kitchen. He strode back to the bedroom with the bloody knife. The man’s throat glowed white. He pressed the knife to staining it with a bit of cat’s blood. Towering over them both, he shook with excitement. No, no, it’s not time yet he thought he wanted her to suffer just as he had. He placed the knife on the table next to the bed. He bent over and kissed her forehead. She stirred. 

 Outside, the moon was still high, and the shadow from the maple tree hid his presence. He would stay and watch awhile through the window. Standing in the weeds under the sill smoking. He felt as if his cheeks might crack as his smile grew. The itch took over. Hoping he would wake her, he tapped quietly on the glass. This was more than just bringing her to the light, this was revenge. Revenge for creating hope and desire. For, the love that never was. The mask he wore was white, faceless, no features, just holes where the eyes should be and a small nose and black smile. He needed her to see him; he wanted to hear her scream. The blankets on the bed moved. She sat up. He raped with his knuckles once again. She stared directly at him, the white faceless smile staring back at her. Her scream penetrated him. Giving him an instant hard on. It was so sexual, he thought, the screams, the fright, they turned him on. It gave him control. The man hadn’t even moved before he disappeared. By the time the man was in the yard, the apparition had disappeared. 

***

 Trish turned all the lights on in the house. Out of breath, Bill jogged back into the house. He had found nothing.

“Are you sure you saw someone? You weren’t dreaming?” he asked. 

 “I know what I saw, ok. Someone was there, they had a dead face.” She sobbed.

 Bill held Trish in his arms. “It’s just I didn’t see anyone, I doubt that he could have ran that fast.”

 They stood in the mudroom, the fastest way in or out of the house. As they made their way back to the kitchen, they smelt it. Smoke rose out of the oven. Bill rushed over. 

 “What the hell? Did you leave the oven on?” he said as he opened the door. 

 The sight was too much, Bill immediately gagged. Inside the blazing oven were the remains of the neighbor’s black and white cat. Whoever had been there, skinned and slit it open along the spine, the bones of the rib cage cut through and its insides pulled out and spread eagle on the Trish’s cookie sheet, all shoved into the oven. It was black, charred and crisp. 

 They called the police. 

***

 The police searched the grounds and the house. They found footprints outside the bedroom window along with cigarette butts. They gathered that he stood there for some time watching the couple sleep. Another cop asked about the knife next to the bed. Trish and Bill both said that it wasn’t there before they went to sleep. The police also asked about the third glass on the table, if they had had a visitor before. Of course they hadn’t.  It was from him.

 All of this unnerved Trish, how could it be that this intruder would spend so much time in her house, she asked the police. They didn’t have an answer. The police of course took everything with them. They fingerprinted the house, the windows and doors. They also had the unwelcome job of informing the neighbor about her cat. 

***

The yellow sun was overhead, I slept most of the day. Never have I slept that much. I suppose I needed it. Also, I needed a good day, even if the day was half over. Everything has gone to shit lately. I want a day where I didn’t have to think. Maybe I could tag along with Kimber. She told me she is watching after her half-sister today. What was she, eight or nine?

 She was twelve. Almost a teenager; I don’t know why I thought she was so young. We shopped at the Crossgates Mall in Albany. It was a bit of drive, but I felt my problems fade into the background as we drove. Of course Kimber insisted on driving. She didn’t want me to have any of my crazy spells on the drive. I tried to joke about them; it made it easier; I suppose. June, that’s Kimber’s sister, didn’t care who I was. She got to go shopping. 

 Crossgates had just about everything a twelve-year-old could desire. Her dad, Kimber’s step dad, had given her a fifty to spend. That was nothing to laugh at. She got her money’s worth at Claire’s. I’ve never seen a kid buy so much crap in my entire life. I think it was buy one get 10 free or something like that. 

 The afternoon ended with us getting a meal at good ole Micky Ds. I cook so much excellent food, but I have a fondness for fast food. The chicken McNuggets with the sweet and sour sauce were my weakness. If possible, I would eat them all the time. Of course I tell no one because, well, it might ruin my reputation as a cook. I’m supposed to despise everything about fast food. The truth is though; I love it. The greasy, fatty, deep fried goodness. 

 Thankfully, the day was uneventful, although I felt that Kimber was getting closer to me. She made me try on clothes and I swear she snuck a look at me when I took my shirt off. Not that I have any kind of crazy chiseled chest or abs of steel or anything like that, but I think she liked what she saw. She also tried on a few outfits and asked my opinion. She bought the one outfit that I really liked. 

 The way back to Great Barrington was interesting, June finally opened up to me. In fact, she told me things about Kimber that she did not want me to know. I loved it. Kimber was blushing and trying to get her to shut up but there is no stopping an almost teenager once they get going on their big sister. Apparently, Kimber had a crush on someone that she worked with. But she didn’t know who. I beamed. Kimber wouldn’t make eye contact with me, no matter how hard I tried.

***

 Kimber dropped me at my place; she said she wanted to talk, but that she had to take her sister home first. I stood on the drive as she drove away. It was a good day, I thought, finally a good day. The phone was ringing the moment I walked into my apartment.  

 “No, no, no,” I yelled, yanking the phone from the wall. I threw it across the room. 

 It landed on the floor with a crash. It paused for a second and then started right back up. I held my head in my hands, why me I thought? What did I do? I closed my eyes tight and covered my ears. I won’t let it. I won’t. 

 My lungs felt tight, as if I couldn’t breathe. I coughed on smoke I knew wasn’t there. I felt the heat from a fire that I knew couldn’t be. But it was. I could feel it. If I would open my eyes, I know that I would see it. I refuse to open them. The laughing taunts me. It’s daring me, as if it knows me. As if it wants to show me something. The evilness of it fills me with dread. 

 The room is dark with a smell of damp leaves and old newspapers. Gone was the heat from the fire. Here a cold dampness reigns. A lone lightbulb hung from an unfinished ceiling. The boards above covered with cobwebs and years of dirt and dust. Mildew grew along the walls, huge black masses creeping up the corner. Household items are strewn about. An old broom leaned against a far wall, covered in old cobwebs, dust and years of disuse. An old tricycle sits alone in a corner, forever waiting to be ridden once more. 

 A muffled cry for help broke the silence. I don’t want to see who is calling, but I can’t control my actions. Some unseen force moved my body, imploring it to explore this realm. A woman pleads for her life, a voice I know. I can’t place it now. I am not here this is all a dream. She screams in pain, a blood-curdling cry. Then I hear the laughter. I’m here, where all the calls are coming from. The laughter that has driven me mad these last few weeks. 

 I float towards the screams; I cannot walk because I am not here. Where is here, I wonder? It looks like a basement. There is a small room with an old coal oven, black soot coating the floor and walls. A dirty window looked into the next room. I could see a man, but his back was to me. He was wearing all black, except his shoes. His shoes were Converse Chucks, a dark red. A woman sat in front of him, her shirt cut open exposing her breasts. Tears streamed down her bright red cheeks. The old man huddled in the corner, the same man that I keep seeing over and over. 

 The old man saw me watching the scene. He pointed to me. “It was you.” He mouthed. The silent words floated to me. They shattered the glass before my eyes. The laughing intensified, the screams flooded the room. The laughing man slowly turned to face me. I finally saw his face.

 I woke on the floor of my bedroom coughing. It felt as if the smoke was trying to choke my life away. I tried to gain my composure, tried to reassure myself that they are just hallucinations and nothing more. I looked down at my dark red Converse.