Night Terror (19 page)

30

AUDREY, DEEP IN HER SELF-INDUCED TRANCE
, had lost all

sense of body and time.

She wandered down a dark hallway that she knew was not a part of her past or her present. It was simply a construct that existed in her mind. She dimly recalled helping Tara build it, piece by piece. Remembered the audible
click
of each of the doors closing, sealing off a part of herself, protecting Audrey from the past. But now she wondered if that was really what they had accomplished.

The walls of the corridor seemed solid as stone. And the doors were thick and strong. She remembered Tara’s singsong voice in the dim distance. “These doors are thicker than they are wide, Audrey. The locks are made of a special steel that cannot be cut or melted. There is no key. When we close these doors, no power on earth will be able to open them again. No one must ever open these doors.”

Audrey stared at the door in front of her and she shuddered. She glanced down the rest of the long hallway and hurried on past that door. She didn’t want to be near it, much less touch it. She was after answers and something told her that behind that door lay answers. But they were answers that might destroy her. And there was something different about that door in other ways. She seemed to recall building it by
herself.
But it didn’t have anything to do with Zach. She knew that.

It had to do with her alone.

The farther down the corridor she traveled, the darker it became, until she could hardly see her hand in front of her face. She was approaching the final door, the door to her earliest memories. And it was open. She floated inexorably toward it, like a leaf adrift on a river current. She reached for the walls, but they receded from her grasp and she was swept forward into the waiting darkness.

She heard laughter first. A sweet remembered sound. The laughter of a little girl. Exactly like her own laughter. Only Audrey knew immediately that it wasn’t her. It was Paula.

Paula?

Why was that name so familiar? She didn’t recall ever knowing anyone named Paula, and yet she knew her intuition was correct.

As the laughter swelled, the darkness diminished, and Audrey opened her eyes in another world. She was a small child again and she danced with childish abandon. A mirror image of herself held her by the hands, and the pair spun round and round until they collapsed into a dizzy huddle on the summer grass.

Audrey was stunned, staring at the little girl as though she were a ghost.

Paula. My twin. The girl in the mirror. How could I have forgotten her? Why was her memory so terrible that Tara had to lock it away behind this door? What happened to Paula?

But she knew. Or at least she sensed some of what was to come, and the horror dimmed the daylight around her. Paula was the faceless little girl in her visions. The girl behind the mask.

The girls—no more than five or six and clad in tan romper suits—laughed and rolled in the grass. This was the recorded memory of a brief, wonderful moment in her past and she tried to hold onto the joy of it, but the young Audrey—through whose eyes the older Audrey was now looking—was not concerned with remembering. Had no idea of the terrible events about to unfold. She glanced at Paula offhandedly, then slowly around the white-fenced backyard.

Tall oak trees shaded the lawn. A swing set with an attached slide sat near the fence. A brightly painted doghouse guarded the center of the yard and a half-grown German shepherd tugged playfully at the end of a leash attached to it, wanting to join in the fun.

Gidown.

Audrey had named the dog because he was always on the furniture. Her mother was constantly shouting at him, “Gidown!” and the dog would slink away with a canine grin, chastised but unrepentant. A small boy hid behind the doghouse, whistling through his teeth and teasing the dog. Her brother, Craig.

Forgotten. Just like Paula.

He was ten years old. Dark-haired, with dark eyes. Like Zach. A heavy weight suddenly settled on Audrey’s heart. How could I have allowed myself to forget Craig and Paula? Why did I have to?

Audrey’s vision followed the high white fence back to the house. The old building appeared giant from her child’s perspective. The wide eaves two stories over her head hung from the cloudless sky. The house was as well cared for as the fence, freshly painted siding, double-hung windows gleaming in the sun. The back door opened and a small, dark-haired woman stepped out into the shade of the porch, searching the backyard.

Audrey’s imagined breath caught in her throat. She thought the woman was Tara—a much younger Tara than she remembered. But realization struck her like a blow.

Not Tara. Mother.

Whenever Audrey had tried to picture her mother, the only image that appeared was that of an old crone. A snarl-haired witch with close-set black eyes and a warty face. A woman garbed in filthy clothing who lived in shadows. Audrey didn’t know whether the picture she had of her mother was real or whether she had simply created it to fit the hateful half-memories that haunted her. The woman she envisioned dragging the little girl into the basement bore no resemblance to the woman she now saw standing in the light of that long-ago day.

How could this beautiful woman have changed in a few short years into the horrible monster that Audrey recalled?

Had she somehow caused her mother to metamorphose into the dark creature that she remembered? Was that the guilt that she was so terrified of discovering?

Her mother called for Craig, who argued. The dog spotted him at last and raced around its house to place his front feet on the boy’s shoulders. Both girls stared at the boy and Audrey noticed that she could sense Paula’s feelings toward Craig. Love, respect, awe.

Craig finally gave up the fight and disappeared inside the house with their mother, and for some time the girls played quietly together, swinging and skipping rope. But something had changed. A dark cloud seemed to have slipped over the sun. The day dimmed and Audrey knew that all was not right inside their home.

Paula was the first to notice. She stared at the still-open back door and her easy smile was now a straight-lipped look of concentration. She turned back to face Audrey and shook her head.

Time flashed. Clouds scudded eerily fast across the lowering sky before their mother returned to the back porch. She seemed to have shriveled, dropping down onto the top step and staring out across the yard with empty eyes. The girls ran to her and crowded near like ducklings fearing a storm. Their mother seemed not to notice them at first.

“He’s gone,” she said.

The words echoed down through the years and struck Audrey in the center of her heart.

He’s gone.

They were words she’d heard in her childhood, and then words she had spoken herself. Words she hated more than any others she could think of. What could have possibly happened inside that house in that brief period of time?

Where had he gone?

Their mother shook her head, still staring blankly out across the fence into the distance.

“He’s gone,” she repeated. She turned to look at each of them in turn and drew them close. A mother duck, shielding her brood. But why hadn’t she shielded Craig? What had happened to him? Had she taken him down into the cellar? Was that what this memory was about? Or was something
else happening here? Was this even the same day that Craig had gone into the house with Mother?

Audrey wanted desperately to ask so many questions, but she was locked inside another body in another time and she could only relive events as they were revealed to her.

What have you done with him?
she wanted to scream. As she looked into the tortured eyes and face of the woman before her now, she began to sense the madness that would become the greater part of her mother in the coming years.

“He’s gone.”

It struck Audrey again how much like Zach Craig had looked. Could it have been Craig’s face she’d seen in the kitchen window? In the fountain? Was that what happened? Was the answer to Craig’s disappearance locked away somewhere, back down that long corridor? Was the truth of his vanishing so terrible that it, too, had to be sealed tightly away from her conscious mind?

If she could open those doors and find out what had happened to Craig, then perhaps she could put the boy in her visions to rest. It would mean that she had been wrong about them, that there was no hope for Zach, but perhaps she would finally be able to say good-bye to him.

She jerked away from the memory of her siblings and her mother, now frozen like a photograph, and stepped back through the door into the long corridor again. There was a pressure change at the doorway, as though she were being sucked once more into the present from the vacuum of her past. A whispered voice skittered down the hallway, calling her name, and it took her a moment to recognize the source.

Richard.

As his voice grew more strident, she felt her body shake and she opened her eyes. Richard held her upright, gripping both her upper arms.

“Jesus, Audrey,” he said, easing her back onto the bed. “Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you,” she said, sitting up and stretching. Even though she remembered everything she had just experienced, she felt better than she had in months. She was more confused than ever about her past, but now she knew that she
could
open the doors. Before, she had only wanted to.

“I was afraid you’d OD’d on those pills. You were out like a light.”

He was wearing his bathrobe and his hair was still wet from the shower.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, studying his face. “You’ve got a scratch.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Tell you about it over dinner, okay?” He looked as though he had something more to say but didn’t know how to say it.

“Sure,” she said, sliding around him to get off the bed. She was surprised to see that it was already dark outside. “There are some things I need to tell you too.”

He watched her straightening her blouse. “How about a nice candlelight dinner at home? I’ll thaw out a couple of steaks.”

“I thought you were going to take me out.”

“I just thought it would be nice for us to be alone.”

“Okay,” she said, kissing his cheek. “That would be nice.”

31

RICHARD WAS ENJOYING
the silence in the house for a change, staring across the kitchen table at Audrey. She was so beautiful and so vulnerable that he wanted to take her in his arms and carry her away somewhere safe. She did seem better, but he still wasn’t sure Doctor Cates had been the right decision. He wanted to call Tara, but Audrey didn’t want to see her. Tara had explained to him why it was so hard for Audrey to have any kind of relationship with her anymore.

“She’s been hurt, Richard. Hurt more than you can possibly imagine. We’ve had to lock away so much of her past that Audrey
has
no past, and a part of her blames me for that. And she’s afraid that if I try to help her, she’ll lose Zach the way she’s had to lose her childhood.”

“It wasn’t
your
fault.”

“No. And on some level Audrey knows that. But I was the one in the chair across from her all those years, making her forget.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. But I’ll always be here for Audrey. And for you. I want you to know that.”

That was the day Tara had left their house; the last time he’d seen her. He leaned across the table now and took Audrey’s hand. She smiled back at him shyly, as though the expression had faded from disuse.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“Better than I’ve been in a long time,” she said, but she frowned when she spoke. “I’m figuring some things out.”

“You seem distracted.”

“So what’s new?”

“Did you take your medicine?”

She glanced through the glass doors, out across the backyard, and he squeezed her hand.

“Audrey?”

“We’ll talk after dinner. Can’t we have a nice dinner?”

“All right. I’m sorry.”

Richard sipped his wine and pronounced it suitable. Audrey chuckled under her breath.

“What?” he said.

“You wouldn’t know a good year from vinegar.”

“I beg your pardon. I took a wine appreciation class at college.”

“You did not!”

“I went to a lot of frat parties.”

“That I can believe.”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in over a year.”

“You haven’t smiled much either.”

They chatted quietly, steering clear of Zach’s disappearance, clear of children, clear of Audrey’s night terrors. They spoke instead of gardening and accounting. Until Audrey felt the time had come. “I have something to tell you.”

Richard shook his head, wiping his lips on his napkin. “Me first.”

“All right.”

He dropped the napkin onto the table and pushed back in his chair, staring at the white lace tablecloth as though reading cues from it. When he sighed loudly, Audrey knew he was having trouble with the words. She hadn’t expected whatever he was going to say to be quite so important to him and a tiny twinge of fear surged through her.

“Whatever it is,” she said, “just say it.”

“I love you.”

“I know that. I love you too. Was that so hard to say?”

He lowered his chin down onto his chest and stared her straight in the eyes. “I think maybe there
was
someone in our backyard. I think maybe you
did
see someone.”

“What?”

He took a long time before answering, gathering his thoughts. “I should have told you, but I was afraid my imagination was running away with me. I found footprints under the window.”

“Oh, my God!”

He shook his head. “It might not mean anything, Audrey. Maybe they were old prints.”

“Whose
old prints? Why would they be underneath our window?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. I’ll talk to the sheriff tomorrow.”

“Call him tonight.”

“I don’t have anything to tell him. The prints are gone. Maybe it’s just all in
both
our heads. We’ve both been under a lot of stress. You have to admit it
sounds
crazy.”

“I don’t care how it sounds anymore.”

“I’ll call Sheriff Milche tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

He nodded.

“What if Zach’s in that old house down the road?”

Richard sighed. “Audrey,
that’s
crazy. The sheriff told you all about the investigation. He checked out
everyone.
Nobody around here was involved. And even if the guy is a Peeping Tom, that doesn’t have anything to do with Zach. Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

“I’m not letting my imagination run away with me. I can feel Zach! Or I could until I started taking those damned pills.”

“The pills are helping you.”

“No, they’re not. I know you think they are. But they make things worse, not better. I’m doing what you wanted. I
want
to work with Doctor Cates now. But I’m not going to take the pills anymore.”

He sighed again. “Are you sure about that?”

She nodded, determination set deep in her eyes.

He reached out and took her hand again. “Okay, then. As long as you think Doctor Cates can help. I’ll be right beside you all the way.”

She squeezed his hand.

“You seem like you have more to say,” she said.

He took a deep breath and when he spoke he put all the sincerity he had in his words. “I don’t want to have anymore children.”

“But you said… After all our arguments?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I know what having more kids would mean to you.”

“But—”

“Let me finish. I was being selfish and I realize that now. Our marriage means more to me than anything in the world.”

“Richard—”

“I’m serious.”

“Stop!”

He stared at her with the most guileless face she had ever seen in her life. If Richard had told her at that instant that he had signed up for the astronaut program and been accepted, she would have believed him.

“I should have gone first,” she said.

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t want you to give up on having another baby.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I mean, not yet. Not right now. But someday.”

The relief in his eyes was so evident it was painful to look at. “That’s fine, Audrey. Whenever you’re ready will be fine.”

“I just have some things to work through with Doctor Cates. Then we can think about the future.”

“Fine. Whatever you say. It’s just that, well, you know, Doctor Cates is going to dig things up. Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want to do?”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Richard, there’s something going on in my head, and it’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t find out what it is. Even if it’s bad, I think I can face it. What I can’t face is the not knowing. I had a twin sister, Richard.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to her?”

“I’m not certain. But I know it was bad. It had to do with the mask I’ve been dreaming about.”

“You never said anything about a mask.”

“I didn’t?” She shook her head and frowned. “I had a brother too.”

“Audrey, are you sure these are real memories?”

“They aren’t hallucinations.”

“I didn’t mean that. But sometimes our mind makes up things in our past. I forget what it’s called, but I’ve read about it. That’s why eyewitness testimony is so easy to beat in court.”

Audrey shook her head. “These aren’t fill-in-the-blanks memories, Richard. It’s not a question of whether or not someone was wearing a red shirt or a green one. I know their faces. I remember playing with them.”

“When did you remember that?”

“This afternoon. I was practicing self-hypnosis.”

“That’s
why I couldn’t wake you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You startled me, that’s all.”

“Well, if you think Doctor Cates can help, honey, then I’m all for it.”

She withdrew her hand, smiling to let him know he shouldn’t read anything into the gesture. “I know you think I’m crazy. But I still think the man in that old farmhouse has something to do with my dreams.”

“You never said anything about a
man
in your dreams.”

“There isn’t one.”

“Then how—”

“I don’t know how. But I know it’s true. Please don’t think I’m insane.”

“I don’t think you’re insane.”

“You’ll call the sheriff?”

“I promise. First thing tomorrow.”