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“Yeah, well, I think she’s already planning
on heading out there tomorrow,” said Ben’s father. He stayed on the
stairs, and Desmond stayed outside. Ben was caught between the
awkward standoff.

“Well, she’s just going to have to change
her plans.”

Ben’s father smelled his fingers, and then
wiped them off on his already dirty t-shirt. “Maybe you’re going to
have to change yours.” He put his hand on the wall, where the
alcove from the stairs met the ceiling of the first floor. He
tilted forward and then back again as he spoke. “We were going to
take my kids fishing out there.”

“No you weren’t,” said Desmond. “All you two
ever do is sit in her room and smoke dope. Don’t try to pretend
like there’s anything else going on here than that.”

“You know, you’ve got a big mouth old
man.”

“Raymond,” said Desmond to his son, “go to
the car. We’re going to leave soon, just wait for me.”

“No, Daddy,” said Raymond. “Can we please
just go? We can use the key in the rock, out by the river. We don’t
need Terry’s key. Please, Daddy, I just want to go. Can we please
go?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” said Ben’s father with a
mocking tone. “Go see Grace.” He flipped Desmond off with both
hands as he bit his lower lip.

“You’re scum,” said Desmond.

“Get the fuck off Terry’s property,” said
Ben’s father as he kept his middle fingers raised.

Desmond walked away, and Ben closed the door
while Killer continued to bark. “Sorry about that, Daddy,” said
Ben.

“What did I tell you about answering the
door?” asked his father.

“You never told us not to answer the door,”
said Alma from the couch. She put her hands over her mouth after
daring to speak up. Their father glared down at them both, his eyes
wide and his fists clenched.

“Do you guys want me to make you walk the
dog?” he asked with a malicious grin.

“No,” said Ben as he looked at the growling
beast behind the bars. “He bites us.”

“Then don’t disobey me again,” said their
father. “And don’t come upstairs. Terry and I are busy.
Understand?”

“Yes,” said Ben.

“Yes what?” asked their father.

“Yes, sir,” said Alma and Ben
simultaneously.

“You’d better understand,” he said as he
slowly went back up the stairs.

They waited for the bedroom door to close,
and then sighed in relief.

“I hate him so much,” said Alma.

Ben went back to the couch where they had a
hoard of snacks and empty juice boxes. He hopped on the cushions
and a mess of pretzel pieces flew into the air. “Don’t say that,”
said Ben. “He’s our Dad. You only get one Dad.”

“Well, I wish we got a different one.”

Ben reached across their mountain of
wrappers and juice boxes to take his sister’s hand. She was younger
than him by two years, and suffered their father’s rage more
frequently than Ben. Over the years, he’d tried to protect Alma,
but their father seemed intent upon scrutinizing the girl’s every
move. Nothing Alma ever did was good enough for their father, and
Ben was always trying to convince the eight-year-old that she
wasn’t worthless like their father said.

“You’ll always have me.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

Killer continued to growl as he spun in his
cage, trying to get comfortable on the worn towel that he was given
as a blanket.

“Do you want to watch Toy Story again?”
asked Ben.

“Sure,” said Alma, forlorn and distant.

“It’ll only be forty five minutes until the
school lets out,” said Ben. “Aren’t you happy about that?”

“I guess so,” said Alma.

“I wonder if Jim and Laura are going to be
holding hands,” said Ben as he got the video tape out of the basket
beside the television stand.

“You don’t even know if that’s their real
names,” said Alma.

Ben always knew when Alma was upset by the
way she refused to play along with his games. Their annual vacation
in Missouri was a boring exercise for them, spent watching the same
movies over and over while their father stayed upstairs with the
red haired girl named Terry.

“What’s bugging you, Alma?” asked Ben.
“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m just sick of it,” said Alma. “I hate
him so much. I’m going to tell Mom that I don’t want to come out
here anymore.”

Ben finished loading the VHS tape and
returned to the couch. “No, Alma, you can’t do that. You know what
he’ll do. You can’t tell Mom.”

“I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care if
he does kill me.”

“Don’t say that.” Ben pushed the garbage off
the couch between them and scooted over to sit beside his sister.
He put his arm around her and set her head on his shoulder. “If it
weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to survive in our crazy family.
I need you, little sis.”

“I need you too,” said Alma as she hugged
Ben.

The movie started and they settled into
their seat. They’d seen the movie far too many times already, but
it was the only new movie in the basket this year. All of the
others had been here the last time they were forced to camp on the
couch for a week, and they’d watched all of them more times than
they cared to remember.

Alma was the first to notice the fog
outside.

“Ben, look,” she said and got off the
couch.

She went to the window and he glanced
outside to see what she was looking at. A thick smoke was billowing
forth from something down the street. It was a light grey cloud,
but swelled as if made of foam or liquid. Then the cloud flashed
with green light and the hair on Ben’s arms stood straight up as if
he’d been shocked. “Alma, get away from the window.”

“What is that?” she asked, still perched on
the loveseat that was backed up against the wall, under the
window.

“I don’t know, get away from the
window.”

“Do you think there’s a fire?” asked Alma as
she continued to ignore her brother’s command.

He grabbed the back of her dress and pulled
her back. The fog swept over the street and started to blot out the
sun, causing the cabin to grow dark. Green lightning flashed within
the cloud, and it crackled along the frame of the cabin.

Soon the fog enveloped the house, blocking
out all of the light except for what was coming from upstairs.
Killer yapped furiously as Ben stared at the light up the
stairs.

“I need to go tell Dad,” said Ben.

“No!” Alma took her brother’s arm with both
of hers. “You know you can’t. You can’t go up there.”

“I have to. I have to make sure he knows
what’s going on.”

“He’ll kill you, Ben. Please don’t go up
there.”

He pulled out of her grip and went to the
stairs. The green electricity continued to flash and illuminate the
living room, casting wicked shadows on the walls. He reached the
bottom of the stairs as Alma continued to plead with him to stop,
but he knew that he had to tell their father what was happening.
The light in the hallway was still on, but it flickered as he made
his way to the master bedroom door.

He knocked, but heard no response.

He tried again, and thought he heard someone
in the room choking. Ben put his ear to the door, and was certain
of what he heard. “Dad?” he asked and knocked again. The choking
persisted, and no one answered him.

Ben pushed the door open.

Terry was on the floor, nude, and her hands
were shaking as her head flopped back and forth. Her red hair was
mopped with sweat and her eyes were aflame with red veins. She
turned and stared at Ben and white foam formed on her lips as she
tried to speak. The foam fell from her mouth and dripped to the
floor as she reached out to him.

Ben’s father appeared in the master
bedroom’s bathroom. He had a cup of water in his hand and stopped
when he saw Ben. “What did I tell you?” He screamed and dropped the
cup of water. It bounced on the floor at his feet and water spilled
out as the furious man charged through the room.

“What happened?” asked Ben, terrified.

“You little mother fucker, I told you not to
come in here.” Michael Harper grabbed his son by the arm and
slapped the boy across the face. Then he slammed Ben’s head into
the door as he continued to curse at him.

Tears sprang to Ben’s eyes as he screamed an
apology. He could hear Alma crying at the bottom of the stairs,
pleading with their father not to hurt Ben.

“Get in here, you little shit.” He pulled
Ben into the room. “Alma, shut up and stay down there.”

“Daddy,” said Alma. “There’s smoke
outside.”

“I don’t give a fuck if the Devil’s at the
door, girl. You shut the fuck up and watch your movies. If I hear
one peep out of you, I swear to God I’ll kill you.” He slammed the
door and then turned to Ben. “Well, kid, you did it now. You fucked
up for real this time.”

“What’s wrong? What happened to Terry?”

“She’s fucking dying, that’s what’s wrong.
The bitch OD’ed.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“No,” said his father. “No, that’s not what
we’re going to do. You’re going to help me get her up.”

Terry started to convulse and her arms
slapped against the floor as her head bounced. The white foam
spewed from her mouth, followed by a putrid yellow fluid that
splashed on her cheeks.

“Clean the shit out of her mouth,” said
Ben’s father. “I’ll get some more water for her.”

“Daddy, she’s naked.”

He looked at Ben as if disgusted. “So what?
You’re the one that came in here when you weren’t supposed to. It’s
time to grow the fuck up, Ben. Now scoop that shit out of her
mouth.”

Ben moved on his knees over to the shaking
woman. Her breasts flopped around as she shook, and he was ashamed
to look at her. The veins in her chest and neck were blue,
engorged, and easily visible through her pale skin. He tried to put
his hand on her head to hold her down and clean out the foam from
her mouth, but the contact of his hand alerted her to his presence.
She reached out and clawed at his head and shoulders in a desperate
attempt to pull him down.

“Dad!” Ben screamed as the woman clawed at
him. “Help!”

His father ran back in the room, but Terry’s
arms fell suddenly limp. They hit the floor and only had the
strength to twitch. Ben fell backward and scooted away as he wiped
foam and bile from his shirt.

“What did you do?” asked his father.

“Nothing. I tried to help, like you said,
but she grabbed me.”

His father bent down and placed his fingers
on Terry’s throat. “Jesus fucking Christ, Ben. You killed her.”

“I didn’t, Dad. I swear!”

“Well she’s dead. She’s dead, Ben. She’s
dead now!”

“I didn’t do anything.” Ben started to cry.
“I was trying to help.”

“Well, now we’re fucked. You killed
her.”

“Dad,” said Ben. “You have to believe me, I
didn’t do anything to her.”

“Stop panicking,” said his father. “We’ll
figure this out. I’m not going to let you go to jail. Okay, Ben?
I’ll protect you.” He stood up tall and started to look around the
room with his hand on his chin, as if surveying the scene in search
of clues.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at Ben.
“I’ve got a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”

“Okay,” said Ben. “What do you need?”

“Go downstairs and start boiling some pots
of water. Then get all of the cleaners from under the sink. Don’t
ask questions, just do what I say.” He bent down and put his arms
under Terry as he started to drag her toward the bathroom.

“What are you going to do?”

He dropped Terry and her body thumped on the
floor as he stood and glared at Ben. “What did I just say? No
fucking questions. Go do as I say or they’re going to put you in
jail for this.”

Ben wiped his tears away and ran back
downstairs.

“What happened?” asked Alma, but Ben ignored
her as he went to the kitchen. She followed and asked again, “Ben,
what happened? Did you tell him about the smoke? Ben, talk to
me.”

“I can’t, Alma.” He got a pot out and
started to fill it in the sink.

“The smoke is getting thicker, Ben. What are
you going to do with that water? Ben, stop ignoring me. What
happened upstairs?”

“Alma, shut up,” said Ben, and the verbal
assault stunned his sister. “You’ve got to just shut up and go
watch your movie. Dad and I are doing adult things. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay. Why are you being mean
to me?”

He put the first pot on the stove and turned
on the burner to high. Then he went to fill another. “I’m just
trying to protect you.”

“I’m going upstairs,” said Alma in
defiance.

“No!”

“Why not? You went up there, and Dad didn’t
kill you. I’m going up there too.”

Ben grabbed his sister and threw her to the
floor. “You do as you’re told! Stay down here.”

“Stop being mean to me,” said Alma, and her
voice cracked as she started to cry. Her tears broke Ben’s heart,
but he had to do everything he could to keep her downstairs.

“Do as you’re told, Alma.” Ben set the
second pot on the stove and then started to gather the cleaning
supplies. He went back upstairs with his arms full of various
bottles for his father.

He found him in the bathroom. Michael had
dragged Terry into the tub where she looked almost alive, her head
drooped to the side as she sat against the porcelain. Ben’s father
took the bottles one by one. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands
were shaking as he inspected the cleaners. He was biting his nails
down too far and had caused a few of his fingers to bleed. Ben was
terrified, but stayed stoic, hoping to impress his father.

“All right,” said his father as he continued
to chew his nails. “This is what we’re going to do. This bitch is
dead, and we’re going to have to get rid of her body. I know we can
do it. Okay?”

Ben saw Terry’s eye twitch. “Dad, I don’t
think she’s dead.”