Finding the Way Back (2 page)

I chided myself for my silliness, threw open
the door and switched on the overhead light. No dead bodies, but
more boxes and other junk that should have been thrown away at
least ten years ago. The realization of more work chased away the
illogical, uneasy feeling. I looked in the other bedrooms and
bathroom, making a sweep of the second level, trying to feel at
home in a house that wasn’t mine. All the rooms had piles of broken
furniture, boxes, lamps, old linens and refuse of an undefined
nature. Great.

I chose the master bedroom as my own since
there was at least walking space around the bed. I stripped off the
sheets and went in search of the washer and dryer. Returning to the
main floor I remembered that the appliances were in the basement.
Yuck
. A spider-filled dungeon, I was sure. I hated basements
and this one always made me feel sick and clammy when I would visit
as a child.

But, I had to conquer my fear, I was a
grown-up now. I would march right down and face those eight-legged
creepy-crawlies. Opening the door to the basement felt right out of
a horror novel—obligatory squeaky door and dark open stairs going
down into an abyss of cold, dank dreariness.

I stopped, petrified, a sudden memory coming
back to me. I hadn’t thought of it in years, but suddenly it seemed
like yesterday. Connie and I had been in the basement poking around
the junk while our parents argued with our grandfather upstairs. I
had been teasing Connie and hiding behind things when I felt a hand
come down on my shoulder. Thinking I’d been caught terrorizing my
cousin by an adult, I’d jumped up and turned around. Only there was
no one there. I never told anyone because I knew they would never
believe me.

Reminding myself I had been an imaginative
child, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. I turned the light
switch on next to the door, and, clutching my linens to my chest, I
headed down. More boxes, piles of newspapers, tools, old tires and
odds and ends of broken furniture again. There wasn’t anything my
grandfather didn’t feel he needed a collection of, I guessed. Over
to my right stood the washer and dryer right next to the shower and
toilet in the corner. No walls surrounded the toilet but the shower
had two concrete walls around it forming a partial stall. Classy.
No shower curtain was in evidence. I would have to find a hardware
store if I were able to steel myself to take a shower in this
horrid place. Not that anybody would see me down here taking a
shower, but it wouldn’t feel right bathing out in the open.

I walked over to the washer, shoved the
sheets in and looked around for some detergent. A cheap, no-name
brand sat on top of the dryer. Better that than nothing. I hoped I
didn’t break out in a rash from it, then decided just to wash it on
hot and add an extra rinse. I set the washer and turned toward the
stairs. The weird feeling I had upstairs returned. It felt like
someone was watching me. With my heart pounding I ran up the stairs
as if someone was chasing me and pushed the door shut behind
me.

I reached the imagined safety of my room and
quickly pulled on an old pair of pajamas I had with me, wondering
what other surprises might be in store. I knew taking on this
project was a bad idea, but sometimes there was just no fighting my
mother. And now, here I was, alone in this creepy old house, left
to deal with the consequences. As my heartbeat slowed back down to
a normal pace, I decided those sheets could just wait until
morning. There was no way I was going back down in that basement
tonight. I found some extra blankets in the closet and decided they
would have to do. Whether I’d be able to sleep was another
question.

I lay in bed, listening to the silence of the
place, wondering if I knew what I was doing. I never should have
said yes. Actually, I knew that I didn’t know what I was doing, but
my choices were rather limited right now. My eyes grew heavy as the
dreamlike images of near-sleep danced across my consciousness.
Soon, I was asleep. Then I heard the music.

Chapter
Two

I woke with a start to a dim room, my heart
pounding. I could feel the chill in the air through the heavy quilt
covering me and I shivered involuntarily. My nose was actually
cold. I looked around, trying to remember where I was, but nothing
seemed familiar in the glow of the nightlight from the hallway. I
could see the dark shapes of boxes, furniture and various clutter
piled around the bed, and then I remembered. I was alone in my dead
grandfather’s house.

I made a conscious effort to slow my
breathing as I tried to figure out what had awakened me. Something
had disturbed me. As the soft sound reached my ears, I knew. There
was music coming from the floor below, and I hadn’t left anything
on before coming to bed except for a lamp in the living room.

I lay in bed, wondering if someone had broken
into the house. If so, I couldn’t just wait for them to find me. I
reached out from under the covers to feel for my cell phone on the
bedside table, but it wasn’t there. I cringed as I realized I must
have forgotten it in my purse on the kitchen table. Phone service
hadn’t been turned on yet, so the old rotary phone next to the bed
was useless.

Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions. Why
would a burglar turn on music to rob a house? With so many things
of my grandfather’s stacked around, maybe a radio with a timer had
somehow turned itself on. I hadn’t brought one with me, but it was
logical to think there was one somewhere in the old house.

There was only one way to find out what was
happening. I slid out of bed and grasped my robe from the bedpost,
the soft, familiar flannel steadying my nerves. Not bothering to
find my slippers in the dark, I found that I was still shivering,
whether from cold or fright I couldn’t tell, perhaps both.

I gazed around the room, searching for a
weapon I could use to defend myself, but all I could see were the
shadowy shapes of boxes piled around. I remembered seeing a
baseball bat leaning against the dresser the night before. I groped
for it in the dark, and was heartened as my fingers met the
rounded, wooden surface.

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was so dry
my tongue just stuck to the roof of my mouth. I tightly clutched
the bat and started down the hall. Fortunately the hallway was
clear of clutter and debris, just about the only place in the house
that was. I kept my back to the wall and stepped sideways, trying
to keep the floor from groaning with the shifting of my weight. At
least I didn’t have to look at the revolting wallpaper with only
the glow of the nightlight lighting the way.

The music was still playing. I didn’t hear
any other noises that would indicate an intruder but I kept the
overhead hall light off so I wouldn’t tip off anyone to my
presence. I hoped it was just a radio, but it sounded odd, like an
old recording that was muffled, or was coming from far away. It
sounded familiar, like something from an old movie, but I couldn’t
quite place it.

Arriving at the top of the stairway, I halted
at the landing and listened. I was about to take my first step down
the stairs when the music abruptly stopped. The deathly silence
that replaced it amplified my labored breathing so that I
momentarily held my breath to avoid being heard. Had someone turned
it off? Or did it turn off on its own?

My hands were sweaty as I tightened my grip
on the bat and bit down on my lip to keep my teeth from chattering.
If I could just get to my cell phone.

My feet were like ice as I felt my way down
and stared straight ahead, not wanting to take my eyes off what
little I could see of the living room and dining room below. I
could feel my heart pounding in my chest but I kept moving forward
anyway. I strained to hear some sound, some clue. Anything would
have been better than the stillness that taunted me.

My nerves were on edge, waiting for something
to happen. I wasn’t big on confrontation in the first place, let
alone defending myself physically. Simon had always stressed that
that was his job. Well, I didn’t need him anymore. I could handle
myself now. Part of me was terrified, but part of me thrilled at my
first feeling of independence.

I stepped into the living room, craning my
neck to see if anyone was there, my feet warmed slightly by the
shag carpet. The dining room was to my left, and both rooms were
lit dimly by the lamp I left on in the living room. Not knowing
what I might find, hoping not to find anything, I knew something
was responsible for the unexplained music. I looked across both
rooms, but all I could see were the boxes and clutter that filled
every room in the house. I still didn’t hear any telltale noises
such as a rustle of fabric or creak of the floor, and there was no
movement I could see anywhere.

Turning to look in the kitchen, I saw my
purse on the counter next to the back door. It was a little darker
than the other rooms, but I didn’t see anyone there either and I
started to breathe a little easier. Not ready to abandon my small
bit of protection, I placed the bat under my arm and walked over to
dig my phone out of my purse. My relief was short-lived when I
noticed the battery was dead. Great. The charger was upstairs in my
suitcase so I just slipped the phone into a pocket of my robe.

I rattled the knob of the back door to assure
myself it was locked. There was a small window next to the door and
I glanced out to the back yard but I couldn’t see beyond a small,
wooden porch. It was pitch black with all the overgrown bushes and
trees shading the yard. I tried the switch next to door hoping to
turn on an outside light, but nothing happened. I hoped it was just
a burned out bulb and not something more sinister.

Not remembering if I locked the front door
before going to bed, I tiptoed to the front entryway to check.
Maybe the music came from outside. Holding my bat in one hand I
quickly unfastened and fastened the lock, making sure it was
secure. I flipped the switch next to the door but that light was
burned out as well. I flipped it a few more times then shook my
head in disgust. More bulbs to replace tomorrow. I wasn’t about to
step out the front door to check any further. If someone was there,
I wasn’t going to open the door and let them in.

I shivered. It wasn’t this cold when I went
to sleep, and I wondered if the heater had quit working in the
night. It felt even colder here than it did upstairs. The house was
certainly drafty, with poor insulation and windows that didn’t
close quite right, but this felt like a
deeper
cold. Turning
my head, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I
spun around quickly to look into the dining room, raising my bat
with two hands again. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and
goosebumps ran up and down my arms. There was nobody there, and
everything was still. God, this was a creepy place to be alone. My
nerves were starting to get the best of me.

I wondered what I should do next. I put the
bat down next to the sofa and thought about the music once more.
Looking around the room, I realized I would never find the errant
radio tonight and decided to let it go until morning. I was
thoroughly annoyed with myself and with the run-down old house I
let my mother talk me into occupying ‘temporarily’ while it was
renovated.

Not knowing what else to do, I went back to
the kitchen for a glass of milk. I stopped in the doorway and
noticed the basement door was ajar several inches. I thought I
slammed it closed earlier but maybe the latch didn’t catch. Did I
need to search the basement? The music did sound muffled. I didn’t
want to go down there in the daytime, let alone in the middle of
the night after hearing strange sounds. I felt somewhat encouraged
that no one had attacked me yet. If an intruder was really here he
could have killed me by this time and been done with it. Or he
could be hiding in the basement waiting for me to go back to bed so
he could kill me in my sleep.

I threw open the cellar door and turned on
the light. Here we go again, I thought, back into the abyss. The
light flickered disconcertingly when I turned it on. Just don’t
burn out once I get down there, I prayed, my confidence beginning
to seep out through the cracks in my self-assurance.

I waited a few more moments, listening. If
someone was there, they might have moved after I suddenly opened
the door, allowing it to bang loudly against the wall. All was
quiet.

As I began to descend, I tried not to picture
someone under the stairs reaching up through the open steps to grab
my ankles. The stairs groaned and squeaked with each step. When I
got to the bottom, I swiftly looked from side to side. The cold
concrete was almost painful on my bare feet. I knew I didn’t want
to stay here very long. The basement wasn’t terribly well-lit, but
it was open enough to see that no one was there. The furnace
against the back wall was humming, and seemed to be functioning.
The weird feeling I had in the living room returned, and it felt
like someone was watching me again.

However, with no evidence of anyone around, I
dismissed the feeling and attributed it to nerves. I had had
enough. I turned and ran back upstairs to the first floor and
slammed the door behind me, making sure it latched this time.

I returned to the refrigerator for a glass of
chocolate milk to help me calm down enough to go back to sleep. I
was glad I stopped to pick up a few groceries earlier in the day. I
opened the refrigerator door and brought out a carton of milk and a
plastic container of chocolate syrup. Not trusting the cleanliness
of anything in the cupboards, I reached into the box of kitchen
items I had brought with me, and found my favorite red cup. I had
brought a few of my familiar daily items to help me feel at home. I
filled it with milk and reached for the chocolate syrup. Fully
intending to pour the syrup into the cup, I instead popped the top
and drank the syrup straight from the container. Some dribbled down
my chin, but I just wiped it with the back of my hand and then
licked that clean too. Satisfied with my straight injection of
sugar, I then also put some syrup in my milk, and downed that in
just a few swallows. Simon would have been appalled. But, you know,
Simon wasn’t here, so maybe anything that appalled him was the
right thing to do.