Watcher in the Woods (11 page)

The vibration shot up into David's feet. Before they reached it, the hallway light turned on. Xander charged through the doorway, with David right behind.

“Daaaaad!”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Dad was running down the hall toward Toria's room. He reached it ahead of Xander and swung through. Xander and David stopped at the threshold.

Bam! Bam!

David not only felt it in his feet, but also in his arm, which was pressed against the door frame. Toria was sitting up in bed, eyes wide. She reached out and grabbed her father's neck. He lifted her out of bed and scanned the room wildly.

Bam!

Not from this room.

“What is it?” Toria squealed.

Dad said, “I don't know, honey. It's okay.” He walked toward the door. David and Xander stepped back into the hall.

Bam!
—followed by a crash.

At once, their faces turned toward the ceiling. David touched his father's elbow. “The hallway upstairs.”

Dad began walking with Toria in his arms toward the far hallway and the false wall. He stopped in front of his open bedroom door to hand Toria to Xander.

Dad disappeared into his bedroom, then reemerged with the ring of keys he and David had made earlier in the day.

“Stay here,” he told them.

“No way!” Xander said. He reached out and grabbed hold of his father's T-shirt.

“Daddy, no!” Toria said.

Bam! Bam! Bam!
More crashes. Something
thunked
. The lights in the hall flickered with each sound.

Dad thought about it. He scanned the ceiling.

Bam! Crash!

“Stay behind me,” he said. He walked around the corner and stopped.

The false wall was shut tight. The two padlocks they had attached earlier were locked and hanging from their hasps as they had left them.

Bam! Bam!

The lights flickered. The locks swung slightly from the vibration.

Dad strode to the wall. He checked the number on the top lock and started flipping through the keys.

“We should have bought a gun,” Xander said. He stooped to set Toria down on her feet. “Why didn't we buy a gun?”

Dad got the first lock off and squatted in front of the lower one.

The bat Dad and Xander had used against the big man who had taken Mom had been destroyed when one of the portal doors shut on it. Not that it had done any good, David thought. Still, he would have felt better if one of them carried something, anything more than keys.

The boxes that had been piled up against the wall and then scattered when the man had come for Mom were still there. Some were turned over, none of them neatly arranged. It looked as though the boxes themselves had been running from the sounds and stopped when the humans arrived. David looked in one and found only clothes. Another contained books. Not quite sure what he was looking for.

From the third box he pulled a toy rifle. He hadn't played with it for at least a year, but he hadn't wanted to toss it out, either. The stock and forward grip were made of wood, the barrel of steel. At one time it had been a cap gun, but that part of it hadn't worked for a long time. David held it by the barrel, feeling its heft. He caught Xander looking at him, and David nodded:
Yeah, this'll clock somebody good
.

Dad had the false wall open and was stepping through to the next door. David hurried through the opening and over the next threshold to follow his father up the stairs.

Dad was tiptoeing now, so David did too. He had forgotten Xander and Toria were behind him until he heard the creak of a step and his brother's breathing close behind.

Bam!

Toria let out a yip.

David jumped. He almost lost his balance and fell backward down the stairs. Xander's hand pressed into his back and righted him.

The noise had been earsplitting. Definitely a gunshot.

Their father was crouched low at the top of the stairs, not quite on the landing. He was trying to peer around the corner and down the long, jagged hallway.

“What is it?” David whispered.

“Can't see. Too dark.” Dad edged up onto the landing, gesturing for them to stay back. He moved toward the hallway on his hands and knees, stopping when his head was just below the light switch. He stayed like that a long time, perhaps listening or hoping his eyes would adjust to the dark.

David expected another gunshot at any moment. For some reason, he didn't think Dad would be hit, but he would jump back to get out of the way and crash into the three of them. The whole family would tumble down the stairs and land in a heap at the bottom. The flight did not have a handrail, so he crouched low and gripped the edge of the landing. Xander crowded up behind him.

In the murky light of the staircase's single dim bulb, David saw his father's hand finally rise to the switch. The hallway lit up in that strange way that was becoming familiar to David: it was somehow different from other light, seeming to flicker like fire, without actually flickering at all.

Dad made a noise David didn't understand, kind of a surprised moan.

“Dad?” he whispered. When his father didn't answer, David reached out and touched his foot.

Dad startled and swung his head around to look back. David didn't like what was in his eyes.

“What is it?” David whispered.

Dad shook his head. Slowly he stood, staying close to the wall.

Can't be some madman with a gun,
David figured,
but what would
scare Dad without chasing him away?

He rose and stepped onto the landing behind his father. He looked past him and gasped.

Every lock and hasp they had installed that day was lying on the floor. They were closest to the wall opposite the doors they had secured, as though ripped from the doors and frames with great force.

He heard the others coming up behind him. He stepped around Dad for a better look. Across from the first door the wainscoting was damaged. Farther up, opposite the second door, one of the wall fixtures had broken. A large piece of it—featuring the prancing legs of a horse—lay on the floor. Sawdust, splinters, even pencil-sized strips of wood fanned out from each door.

“The locks just blew off,” Xander said behind him. “Look. They hit the walls hard enough to break the wood. That light fixture is higher than the lock was. The lock must have come off with so much force it actually
flew
.”

“Did someone kick the doors open, you think?” David asked. He looked back at his dad.

Dad's eyes roamed the hall, taking in the locks and splintered wood. He whispered, “The doors don't open into the hall. They couldn't have been kicked open.”

Toria spoke up, her voice shrill. “Is somebody here? Are there people behind the doors?”

That creeped David out. He felt his stomach tighten. His eyes darted from door to door, as far as the crooked hallway would let him. He caught a glimpse of something. He said, “Dad? About halfway up on the right—one of the doors still has a lock.”

“Not only that,” Xander said. “It's moving.”

CHAPTER twenty - two

SUNDAY, 11 : 39 P . M .

Xander was right. The lock was vibrating. It seemed to move faster and faster. Then the sound of it rattling against the hasp reached them:
click-click-click-click-click-click
. . .

Xander said, “What does that mean?”

Dad just shook his head.

David pressed up close to him and stayed there as they moved closer to the door. He felt Xander's hand on his shoulder. David was doing the same thing with Dad: it was a way of staying close without having to pay attention: all of their focus was on that door.

As they drew nearer, Dad lifted the keys.

“
Don't
,” David said.

“Let's go downstairs,” Toria agreed.

Dad hesitated. “Look, guys,” he said. “Maybe there's a reason this door and only this door still has a lock on it.”

David's head began to hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut and said, “Just do it.”

Keys rattled, and he opened one eye to see this father select a key and let all the others drop away from it to settle at the bottom of the ring. Dad took a step closer. David went with him. Xander kept his hand on David's shoulder.

The vibrating of the lock became faster:
clickclickclickclickclickclick.

Toria said, “Is there something on the other side of the door doing that?”

Dad pressed his palm to door. He said, “I don't think so. I don't feel it coming through the door.”

David was between his father and the door. He leaned his shoulder to the door and felt nothing.

Dad reached out with the key. David saw that Dad's hand was shaking, almost as quickly as the lock. David heard the key tap against the lock as Dad tried to find the—

Bam!

The lock and hasp flew away from the door—so fast David saw only a blur marking its trajectory. It struck Dad's hand. He yelled and pulled his arm back.

“Go!” he yelled. “Back! Back!” He swung his arms out and reversed, forcing David, Xander, and Toria to move back toward the landing as well. His hand grazed David's cheek.

David felt warm wetness and wiped at it. His fingers came away bloody. As they continued moving away from the door, he focused on Dad's hand, held out to corral his children: blood poured from a gash along the back of his hand. David could see that the skin around it had already turned dark—black-and-blue, people called it, but this was mostly black.

“Dad—” David said. “Your hand!”

“Go, David! Go!”

At the landing, they stopped.

Dad continued holding his arms out like a guard keeping back a crowd. David stared at the wound. It was leaking like a broken bottle of ketchup. But it wasn't ketchup, and David's stomach turned.

“What happened?” Xander said.

“It just flew off,” Dad said.

Toria said, “It hurt my ears.”

“Your scream hurt mine,” Xander said.

“That was David,” she said.

Dad hushed them. They stood quietly in the hall, watching the door, listening.

Finally Xander whispered, “If that lock had hit somebody, they'd be dead.”

“Xander,” David said, “it did.” He turned his eyes back to Dad's hand.

“Dad!” Xander said.

Toria made an “Oohhh” sound.

“I'm all right,” Dad said.

Xander said, “That doesn't look all right.”

Dad inspected his hand and tucked it close to his chest. “It looks worse than it is.” He glared down the hall. “Are there any more locks?”

“Daddy,” Toria said, “can't we check tomorrow? Your hand . . .”

David saw the struggle in Dad's face. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to know
now
.

After a moment, Dad said, “Okay, we'll see what's up tomorrow. After school.”

“We still have to go?” Xander said.

“We've already been through this, Xander,” Dad said.

Dad stayed on the landing until David, Xander, and Toria were at the bottom of the stairs. He took a last look into the hallway, flipped off the lights, and came down. His hand had soaked his T-shirt, making it look to David like he was holding together a hideous wound in his abdomen.

CHAPTER twenty - three

MONDAY, 12 : 0 1 A . M .

Together they washed and dressed Dad's hand in the master bathroom. When Dad stuck his hand under the faucet, David wanted to turn away. He expected torn muscles, veins, and bones. But Dad had been right. It wasn't as awful as it had looked. A deep, long gash, lots of bruising.

David and Xander were almost back to their bedroom when their father called to them. Dad was on the other end of the second-floor hallway, in front of his own bedroom. Toria stood with him, holding his hand.

“What?” Xander said.

“Let's stay together tonight,” Dad said.

“
Sleep
together?”

“Sounds good to me,” David said.

Dad said, “We'll make beds for you in here.” He gestured toward his bedroom. “Come on, Xander.”

Xander shook his head. “Hold on.”

The boys went into their bedroom to gather their pillows and blankets.

“This is nuts,” Xander grumbled.

“Why?” David said. “You know what they say: safety in numbers.”

Xander scowled at him and stormed out of the room. David hurried to catch up, and the two of them, laden with bedding, marched down to the master bedroom.

Toria was already under the covers in the big bed. David dropped his pillow and blankets beside the bed, on Dad's side. Xander kept hold of his stuff, as though setting it down would mean he was cool with their all staying together, which he obviously wasn't. Dad pushed a bit of blanket under Toria and came around to help David set up his sleeping area.

“How long are we going to have to sleep in the same room?” Xander asked.

“We've got to watch out for each other,” Dad said.

“Can't you and Toria stay in here, and David and I sleep in our own room?”

Dad positioned David's pillow, sat on the floor beside it, and crossed his legs. He sighed. “It's better this way, Xander.”

“How is it better?”

Dad said, “Safety in numbers.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I heard. So what, are we going to stay together
all
the time?”

“As much as possible,” Dad said. “At least at night.”

“So who's gonna go to the bathroom with me?”

“Xander,” Dad warned.

“No, really.” Xander dropped his bedding on the floor. “We're going to be like prisoners!”

“Shhh,” Toria said and rolled over. She flipped her pillow, covering her head with it.

Dad closed his eyes, opened them again. “I was thinking more like the buddy system.”

“Okay,” Xander said. “The buddy system means two people together, right, Dae? Isn't that what they told you in your scuba classes?”