Let's Play in the Garden (16 page)

Simon’s eyes grew wide as he looked at the plants surrounding him. Something was strange about them. Upon closer observation, he realized they were all covered with a white, viscous substance. The same found on the house and gate.

He froze in his tracks, eyes wide, jaws slack, gawking at the biggest and strangest foot imprint he had ever seen.

“My God…” He bent and put his hands into the footprint. The print was four times as large as Simon’s hand. It was a coarse and disfigured print, with large, pointed toes. “No, this cannot be. How could it possibly be this big? It wasn’t this big the last time.”

Nearby brush rustled quickly. Simon popped back to his feet. He looked around as something hissed in his ear. His pulse sped up as his palms grew damp. He searched frantically for the source of the sound.

He knew he was being watched.

Wind, saturated with a foul stench, stirred his grey hair into his eyes as angry footsteps stomped toward him.

Branches snapped.

“No!” Simon screamed. He fled for his life as his terror mounted. He ran hysterically, dodging bushes and trees as his arms flailed. He tried valiantly to remember his way back to the gate

From the distance, he could see the gate. Footsteps still followed him, a growling noise rising with them. At last, he ran through the open gate to safety.

He garnered a burst of terrified energy and used it to slam the gate shut. He worked feverishly to install all his trappings before whatever it was could get out.

Having finished, he fell to his knees, out of breath, and wiped the sweat from his brow. The gate that once kept things out now kept something in. Simon’s heart slammed against his chest, ready to bust out at any moment. His arms and legs ached. He stood and stared in awe at the garden, then pointed a defiant finger at it. “You may have won this time because I was off guard. But the next victory belongs to me. This will never happen again, I’ll see to it.”

14. The Dawning of Winter

Colder days now surfaced, overflowing into the month of November. Like a drug-induced dream, all was murky and runny—sickness slowly slithered into the house and the children.

Merydith passed by Tobey’s room and witnessed an all-too-familiar scene. Tobey lay there, his face pallid, his eyes filled with fear.

Marion hovered over him clutching, a glass of orange juice in her right hand and something else in her left. Merydith strained but she could not see what was concealed. It had to be the tablets, the medicine.

Their grandparents stood on either side of Tobey’s doorway, their backs to Merydith. Simon turned, slowly sensing the presence behind him.

She shuffled down the stairs and slipped past them unseen. She went to the kitchen where the morning meal waited. All attention was now on the stricken Tobey.

She sat at the table, eating oatmeal, while calculating and plotting the entire time. She was so invested in her own plans she’d forgotten how bland and tasteless her grandmother’s oatmeal was.

“Remember, Tobey, use the solar panel. It will heal you,” Merydith heard Marion repeat as they came downstairs.

What is with the solar panels? How do they know that? And why and how do those panels do it?

Marion led the way back to the kitchen, carrying an empty glass. The grandparents tagged along behind, seemingly in their own little world. Were they concerned about Tobey or themselves?

“They’ll be one less in the truck with you today, Merydith,” Marion said.

“Oh?” she answered with false ignorance.

“Your brother is sick. He has the same thing that you had not too long ago. He won’t be able to go to school today.”

“He’ll be all right. It doesn’t last for very long. It is strange, though.”

“What is?” asked Marion.

“Well, every year, as far as I can remember, we begin to get ill as the winter gets closer. We start out with small colds, and then, finally, in the dead of winter, we’re bed-ridden. The colder it gets, the sicker we get. And snow is all but poison to us. Why? Is there something wrong with us?”

“Of course not,” Marion answered with a crooked, uneasy smile. “It’s just your immune systems, that’s all. They’re not as strong as most people’s The winters have always been hard on the Santaneens. Always.”

“Sure,” Merydith answered sharply. “But why doesn’t it affect the grandparents the same way? I’ve never seen them sick. Ever. Come to think of it, the past few winters haven’t bothered you at all, Mother. You used to get as ill as we did, but recently you’ve been overly healthy. Why do Tobey and I suffer every single winter?”

The grandparents stared in disbelief as Marion grew annoyed. She was nearly at a loss for words, but there was no way she would lose this argument with her daughter. She would not back down, nor release the dark truth that had lain hidden for so long—at least, not yet. It was not time. Simon would punish her for doing so.

“Merydith, don’t blame us for your problems,” Marion replied. “We don’t control the winter or your illness. Are we to blame for your bad health? We’re not the cause.”

“You may not be the cause of the illness, but I’m sure you know the reasons behind it.”

“Merydith, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Marion said. “How would we know why you get sick? How would we know why anybody gets sick? Now stop this foolishness and finish your breakfast. It’s almost time to leave for school.”

“Mother, I—”

“I said enough!” Marion barked.

Merydith went silent and returned her attention to breakfast. She smiled slightly, knowing that this was the beginning of her victories and her success at uncovering what was really going on.

Before leaving for school with Simon, she walked over to the hutch and gently rang a multi-colored bell.

###

Days in the colder months were always so gray and gloomy. Sunlight did not seem to have the will to combat Old Man Winter as shades of blue-gray stretched over the land and skies like a soggy blanket. Thanksgiving was around the corner, and then would come Christmas. The holidays were going to make everything so complicated this year. They were an unwelcomed intrusion.

The first frost came to Willington. It layered windows, doors, cars, yards and houses. It sparkled when the light caught it just right. It looked like one sheets of diamonds. The children dared not go out and touch the frost. Their instincts told them it was not a good idea. It was pretty, but it was also deadly glitter.

It hardened over Simon’s green pickup like a new shell. They watched as he stood out in the cold and tediously scraped his truck, his breath taking shape in the icy air. They watched with fascination and fear, imagining what would become of them if they were out in the cold for too long.

After scraping his car, Simon came back into the house. “Mother, that cold sure is trying its best to attack us. Winter is about to officially begin. I think I’ll run the old truck for a while and drive it around. We don’t want the baby dying tomorrow morning when the children go to school.”

“Okay, Simon. Just don’t be late for dinner. It won’t be too long, you hear?”

“Don’t worry, this little chore shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll be back in time for supper.”

Merydith noticed some deep understanding went on between them, something unspoken, something secretive. She watched Simon put on a coat and take his keys out to the truck.

She and Tobey went to the window, wiped off the gathered steam, and watched as the truck roared to a start but sat in the yard for quite some time. Suddenly it jerked free of its spot and pulled out into the dirt road and was gone.

###

“Ted? Ted, c’mon where did you go?” Dora Miles called through the cold dark woods. She and her boyfriend Ted Bonne had come to the woods to be alone, away from their parents, who didn’t want them seeing each other, let along make out in the woods.

“He’s not good enough for you,” Harriet Miles had told Dora countless times. “He’ll never amount to anything. You’ll live in the poorhouse.”

“She’s too stuck up. She and her family are a bunch of rich snobs,” Elaine Bonne told her son time and time again. “They think you’re trash, and Dora will too. When she finds out you have no money, she’ll dump you faster than yesterday’s garbage.”

They had found a place that no one else dared come looking. A place no one would think of looking in a hundred years. The woods. Henman’s Copse, as it was called. The place where all those disappearances supposedly happened. A place where evidence of foul play was rumored to have been found…struggles for life, abandoned cars, blood, clothes. The same woods that were walking distance to the Santaneen house…

What a perfect place to be alone and to be with each other without any meddling parents. Dora was nineteen, for crying out loud, and Ted twenty-one. You would think they’d be able to choose who they wanted to spend time with.

Goofy Ted Bonne, always the practical joker, had decided it would be funny to take advantage of the town rumors and play a joke on Dora. He had run off far into the woods, leaving her alone and frightened.

“Ted! Enough is enough. This isn’t funny anymore. Ted!” Dora continued to walk with her flashlight, searching for her wayward boyfriend, the woods closing in around her and the cold becoming unbearable. Everything around her became more menacing with every passing moment. She had never been here before, and now was not the time to get an unguided tour.

“Ted, please, I’m scared. I mean it. Come back now or I’m leaving.” She paused, looked up into the trees, and watched the stars twinkle. A breeze ruffled the trees. That was his final chance. She turned to head back the way she’d come. “Okay, have it your way. I’m going home. Have a good time by yourself.”

She turned in the direction she thought she’d come from and followed it. She’d walked for a very short distance before panic began to set in. “This isn’t the right way.” She stopped and turned in the opposite direction. The woods grew larger, darker, and she felt swallowed up by a dark sea of trees. “I’m never going to get out of here.” Tears filled her eyes.

Footsteps shuffled in the distance.

Dora stopped and turned. “Ted, is that you?” She waited as the steps grew louder. “Ted, answer me. Fine, asshole, don’t answer me. I know exactly where you are. I’m right now getting me the hell out of here.” She walked hesitantly toward the oncoming steps, increasing her pace little by little. Relief washed through her when she thought that Ted was waiting just up ahead of her and would finally take her home. She ran, a smile across her face, until—

She ran headfirst into oblivion as the hulking, masked butcher stormed toward her. With hell beneath his feet, he closed in on her with the spade held aloft.

Dora’s screams fell mute as she tried to escape her assailant. Not a sound came out of her as she ran insanely, stumbling over bushes, roots, striking trees, shambling, every part of her seeming to act individually instead of as a team.

Team Dora was the easiest prey of all, no contest, no challenge, but, of course, she was also young, weak and unworldly. It closed in on her without breaking a sweat, without raising its breath or heartbeat. It grabbed a handful of hair.

Her mouth gaped open but she could not scream as he drove her head into a tree. She plummeted to the ground, where it bent and pulled her toward him.

She did not resist.

It raised the spade and her eyes followed it. Dora remained paralyzed, and with her last moments, simply closed her eyes.

The spade plunged deep into her chest. There was minimum spillage because of her refusal to struggle. It let go of her and watched her fade, leaving the spade imbedded within her. A moment later, it dragged her off into the woods.

###

In the latest hour of night, everyone was sleeping soundly except for Merydith. She had other plans. This particular plan she had not discussed with Tobey. He was sick and he would be of no help to her. This would take extreme caution and utter silence. It would take all the courage Merydith could muster and all the slyness she’d learned from her grandparents.

First, she kept the lights in her room off, then she got out of bed and opened her window. Icy cold air streamed in. She hated it. She looked around, but nothing stirred. She went to her closet and put on the warmest clothes she could find. A sweatshirt first, and then Grandma Gladys’s sweater. How ironic, she thought. Her grandmother was aiding her forbidden plans

She snuck out of the room and down the hall past Tobey’s closed door. She climbed downstairs as silently as she could on those treacherously creaking stairs. A mouse would be proud of her.

The kitchen was dark and quiet as she made her way into it. She searched around a drawer and found what she needed, a small flashlight.

Please let it still work.
She prayed. It did. A small beam of glorious light struck the kitchen wall and reflected off some of Grandma’s bells. She switched it off and went upstairs.

Merydith walked softly down the hall past her mother’s peaceful room to her grandparents’ room. Here she was, at the bedroom of the two most beguiling people she would ever know. Her arms trembled as she placed her sweaty hand to the door, droplets of perspiration trickling down her arm.

The door opened with ease and she walked blindly into the dark, unaware of what might await her. She halted and turned on the flashlight, a beam of light cutting through the darkness like a candle in the center of a vortex

It had been a long time since she’d been in this room. A very long time. She stared at everything as if seeing it for the first time.

A huge hope chest sat against the far wall, filled with memories and souvenirs. It was covered with a large, flower-patterned doily; it was more like a tablecloth than a doily. Two dressers stood docile in the room. Grandma’s was the one with a large oval mirror encrusted with carvings of grapes and leaves. On it were a few perfume bottles, hairnets, a heart-shaped jewelry box, a Bible, a picture of herself and Simon, and a small ceramic ballerina that played music as it slowly turned. Merydith remembered listening to it as a child. It played the most beautiful melody.