Anathema (6 page)

"Grab on, kid,” they said in unison.

Travis reached and grabbed their wrists, but the skin of his would-be rescuers sloughed from their bones like a banana peel. Travis dropped back into the water. In a second, the faceless children were upon him...

Travis awoke with a start. His upper body was coated in a sheen of sweat, and the Winnie the Pooh pajama bottoms he wore were damp with it. His hair was plastered against his forehead in dark ringlets. He looked as if he'd really gone swimming in the pond instead of just dreaming about it.

Travis got out of bed, grabbed Ted D. Bear by an ear, and padded to the window. He looked out across the overgrown backyard and had a perfect view of the woods.

At night, with only the moon lighting up the darkness, the stand of trees looked like a field of broccoli. Travis
hated
broccoli.

Something moved near the path, or so Travis thought, but when he focused in that direction, it was gone. Maybe it was a stray dog, or cat. Or maybe it was a ghost.

Stop that. There's no such things as ghosts.
His Daddy had told him so. But sometimes, a little boy left alone in the dark could conjure a dragon from a pile of clothes.

He pulled Ted D. close, shuffled across the room, and into the hall. A sliver of yellow light bloomed from underneath his sister's bedroom door. She was still awake. Travis knocked on Molly's door, then opened it about an inch.

"Can I come in?” he whispered through the crack.

"Uh-huh,” Molly replied.

Molly stood in front of the window and stared into the night. Travis expected her to call him one of her stupid names, but she didn't. Whatever she saw held her mesmerized.

Travis joined his sister by the window. “Whatdaya see?"

"Nothing,” Molly said, speaking to her brother's reflection.

Travis didn't know if it was the way she stood, or how the pale yellow moonlight reflected in the window that made Molly look scared.

"I had a dream that two men with red hair were talking to me,” Molly said. “I woke up, but I still heard them. It sounded like they were outside my window, but there's nothing there. And how could they be in the first place? We're on the second floor."

"What did they say?"

"They said we should get out of here. We should pack our bags and leave. Pretty dumb, huh?” Molly tried to smile.

Travis shook his head. “Is it okay if I stay here with you tonight?"

Under normal circumstances, the answer would've been no. The idea of sleeping in the same bed with your kid brother grossed Molly out. But tonight was different. She didn't want to be alone in the dark bedroom of this strange house.

"Sure,” she said, “I'd like that."

"You're all right for a girl.” Travis smiled.

"You're okay, too, dorkface.” Molly smiled back.

Travis cuddled into his sister, and Molly put her arm around her little brother. Together, they stared out the window for a long, long time.

Chapter 7

Jim awoke to the aroma of bacon and eggs. He took a minute to gather his thoughts, and when he was sure he wasn't dreaming, opened his eyes. He looked at the clock on the night table. Damn, it was half past ten. He had planned to have a good deal of the yard cleaned by now.

He got out of bed, put on a robe, and padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Jim expected to be greeted by the cold shoulder that had become such a part of his life, but to his surprise, he was met with a pleasant smile and a peck on the cheek.

"Good morning, Sunshine,” she cooed. “I thought you might sleep the whole day away."

Diane scooped a spoonful of scrabbled eggs onto a plate and topped it with two slices of bacon. She sang and danced her way around the kitchen like Donna Reed on drugs.

What in the world is going on here?

Diane sat the plateful of food on the table next to a big glass of orange juice and three slices of buttered wheat toast.

"Sit down.” She pulled a chair out from the table. “Sit down and eat it before it gets cold."

Diane hadn't cooked her husband breakfast since they were first married, and today, she had presented him with a feast. Jim didn't know what caused this abrupt about-face, but he certainly wasn't going to question it.

Diane sat in the chair opposite him, reached across the table, and took his hand. “I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for being such a bitch these last few days. Actually, I'm sorry for being a bitch these last few years. I want things to work out, too. Not just for the kids, but for us. You are a good man, Jim. You're a good father and a wonderful husband. I'm just sorry I didn't see it sooner. Forgive me?"

Diane stood, unbuttoned her robe, and let it fall to the floor.

Jim's mouth dropped open, spilling bits of egg onto the plate.

"Where are the kids?” He looked at Diane's naked body. Already, her nipples were erect; her pubis sparkled with moisture.

"They wanted to check out the town, so I took them along when I went to get the stuff for breakfast. I told them I'd pick them up about one. And you're right, Jim, this is a cute little town."

"So, you're telling me we have the whole place to ourselves?"

"Uh-huh,” she whispered with more than just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

Diane moved around the table and stood close enough to her husband that her soft pubic hair tickled his cheek. He could already smell her inviting muskiness. Jim felt himself becoming hard beneath his robe.

He couldn't remember the last time Diane acted like this. The last time he made love with his wife was two months before he told her they were moving. He thought sex would put her in a more receptive mood to the news, but all he managed to do was anger her to the point that if he even touched her, she'd grow colder than the refrigerator.

"So, I could take you right here on the kitchen table if I wanted to,” Jim said. He realized he wasn't hungry anymore—at least not for breakfast.

"If that would be your pleasure,” Diane replied with a sultry smile.

"But my eggs'll get cold."

"The hell with the eggs."

Jim stood and quickly cleared the dishes. He put the glass, silverware, and plate in the sink and tossed the remaining two slices of toast in the trash. When he turned around, Diane was leaning against the table. Her hair had fallen in front of her face and Jim was reminded of one of those sexy nineteen thirties’ movie starlets.

Diane reached out and beckoned him by curling her index finger.

Jim took off his robe and slipped out of his pajama bottoms. His erection stood out in front of him like a flagpole. He approached his wife, wrapped his strong arms around her delicate waist, and pressed into her.

Diane parted her lips to accept her husband's tongue. Jim flicked the inside of her moist, pink mouth, tasting toothpaste and coffee. His hands worked her body, enjoying the swells and curves of her breasts. He toyed with her nipples.

Diane stroked the inside of his thighs, tugging at the silky blond hair she found there. She caressed his testicles and ran her hand up his shaft.

Jim moaned and ran his hand down her flat stomach until he found the thatch of hair between her legs. He probed the opening of her sex with his finger.

Diane leaned back across the table and Jim followed. He rolled over so Diane was on top. With Diane straddling him, he felt the wetness of her sex lips on his stomach.

Diane lowered herself onto his hard organ. She gyrated her hips and clinched her love muscles around his tool.

Jim reached up, put his hands on his wife's shoulders, and closed his eyes.

In his mind, he was back at the Stumble Inn of his dream. He had joined the orgy of the dead. He reached up to one of the women above him and peeled off a sheet of her decayed, black skin. He scraped the arm of another, and thick, black goo oozed from the wound. Dead flesh dangled from beneath his fingernails.

One of the whores went down on him. Her lips felt like sand on his papery skin. Teeth scraped as she bobbed her head. Jim reached out and grabbed her by the hair. He pulled out great gobs of her scalp and revealed the transparent skull underneath. Inside the skull, her gray brain pulsed with every beat of his heart.

Another whore sat on his face. Her vagina stank of rotten fish and sour, spoiled meat. It made Jim gag, but still he poked his tongue into her withered opening. The whore cackled like a dying hyena.

With his hand, he masturbated the third whore. Chunks of her broke away as he plunged his hand deeper and deeper into her vagina. His arm became covered in bright red gore.

Then he opened his eyes and came the instant he saw Diane looming over him.

Diane collapsed on top of him. “Wow, I never knew you could be such an animal."

Jim said nothing. He just held her close and stoked her sweat-damp hair. He couldn't get the images of the dead out of his mind. But what was worse, he couldn't get their
feeling
out of his soul.

After the loving, Jim dressed in silence and went to work in the yard. Diane slipped into her robe, tidied the kitchen a bit more, and then headed to the shower.

While she waited for the water to get hot, her mind kept returning to the lovemaking episode. She couldn't remember the last time Jim had been so physical. It was as if something had come over him. Something that was exciting, yet frightening all at the same time.

Diane pulled back the curtain and stepped under the shower. The water felt good as it hit her skin, especially around her hips and thighs. But when she turned her back to the spray, she yelped. It felt as if her back had been stung by a hundred angry hornets.

She turned off the shower, dried herself with a thick, fluffy bath towel, and craned her neck so she could see her back in the mirror.

Her eyes widened. There were long, jagged scratches running down her spine. They weren't bleeding, but were puffy and inflamed, and the hot water had brought them screaming to life.

Whatever had gotten into her husband this morning, she hoped would stay around for a while, but she would have to tell him to take it easy with the fingernails.

Diane finished drying off, considered putting salve on her injuries, but didn't, then padded into the bedroom to dress.

She was still smiling when she headed into town to pick up the children.

Chapter 8

Jim hurt. His loins felt as if they were on fire. He had no idea what came over him in the kitchen, but he certainly wasn't himself. It had been as if an unseen force possessed him. That he was looking at things through someone or something else's eyes. The images of his orgy with the dead were beginning to fade along with the memory of last night's disturbing dream. Mentally, he was becoming his old self again, but physically, he'd hurt for days.

Jim wiped the sweat from his face with the green ‘kerchief he had tied around his neck. Rufus found solace under the porch. His body was stretched along the stone foundation to keep cool. His snout rested on his outstretched paws. The dog's pink tongue hung from his mouth like a piece of raw, dried steak. The dog days of summer had arrived, and it was a cooker.

Rufus's ears perked up, and he lifted his head at the brown pick-up that rumbled up the driveway. The dog barked once, then settled back down. It was too hot for such nonsense.

Jarvis stepped out of the pick-up and walked toward Jim. Dressed in a pair of dusty cowboy boots, faded jeans, dirty T-shirt, and sweat-stained cowboy hat, he looked like a character out of a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western.

Jim dropped the scythe in the grass and moved to greet Jarvis.

"Who's minding the store?” Jim asked.

"Nobody, I just closed it down for a couple of hours. Owners can do that sort of thing."

"I was just about to take a break. Have a beer. Care to join me?"

Jarvis squinted and looked up at the sun. The angry, white-hot orb throbbed in the too blue sky. “Don't mind if I do. It'll go down good on a day like today."

The inside of the house wasn't much cooler than outside, but at least the sun wasn't beating down on them. Sunlight shone through the kitchen window and cast a golden rectangle on the warm linoleum. Despite the dark cabinetry and center island, there was still an airy feel to the room. The smell of fried bacon lingered in the air.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how big this place really is,” Jarvis remarked.

The kitchen was one of the three largest rooms in the house. The other two were the main bath on the first floor and the master bedroom on the second level. Jarvis's own kitchen was but a cubbyhole with barely room enough for him to turn around.

Jim went to the refrigerator and grabbed a couple cans of Budweiser. When he turned around, he found Jarvis sitting at the table, and although he tried not to, Jim couldn't help but chuckle. If his friend knew what had happened on that table earlier, he may have chosen another place to sit.

Jim popped the top on the beers and handed one to Jarvis.

"So, what brings you this way?” Jim took a swallow of his brew and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. He joined Jarvis at the table.

"I just thought I'd stop by and see how you're settlin’ in. And to invite you and the family to tonight's party on Main Street."

"Party? For what?"

"Oh, you know. It's just one of those town celebrations that happen every year.” Jarvis took a drink of his beer.

"Does sound fun. It'd be a great way to get to know the town. I'll ask Diane when she comes home."

Jarvis gently changed the subject. “I know this is none of my business, but have you considered fencing in the woods?"

"I guess I never thought about it. Do you think I should?"

"I only mention it because sometimes animals wander out of the woods looking for food. I just don't want anything to happen to you or your family. And there's an old swimming hole back there, too. You don't want to go swimming in there. It's too dangerous. Too many kids have drowned."

"Fence in the whole woods? Wow, that'd be quite a job. Must be twenty acres out there."

"Twenty-five. But I'm sure the boys at the hardware store would give you a fair price on the materials. Probably sell it to you at cost. I'd be willing to help you set it."