Darkhouse (Experiment in Terror #1) (23 page)

“I just want you to enjoy the pies in life, Perry,” he shot in. “That’s all.”

“I enjoy...pies,” I managed to say. I wasn’t about to charm him with my wit, that’s for sure.

“Pies are a metaphor,” he said quickly. He exhaled.

Then slammed his fist down on the table. The pie plate jumped. I jumped. I’m pretty sure the twins in the other room jumped.

“All right, enough lollygagging,” he barked. “Let’s have a concrete plan of action for tonight. As much I love to fly by the seat of my pants and shit everywhere, I don’t think we can afford to do that this time. Maybe next time. Sound good?”

“Oh God, whatever,” I uttered under my breath.

“That’s the spirit,” he mused and started scribbling furiously on the paper. I soon realized he was drawing a detailed layout of the lighthouse.

“Now there were four levels, right?”

I couldn’t remember. “I don’t know. How far did you make it before I showed up?”

“Not to the top.” He finished the sketch and jabbed at the tower with the pen. “We’ll be going up there tonight.”

So much for having enough “events” to keep us in the safer downstairs levels.

He pointed to the house part of the building. “We’ll also hit up the second floor here now that we have the key. And I’d like to get you back into that bedroom again.”

I felt sick at that idea, remembering what Uncle Al had told me about the dead woman tied to the bed with kelp.

“I’ll try,” I said. “But I’m not going to do anything stupid. Got that?”

Dex gave me a quick smile. “Sure.”

It wasn’t very reassuring. I wondered if that was one of his lies.

We went on to discuss what equipment we would be bringing, what I should say to the camera and where the start and finish rooms were.

“We should probably have a safety word too,” he said.

“A safety word? Like in S&M?”

His eyes flashed, animated and bright. “The safety word is ‘Jell-O’.”

God help me if I ever had to say “Jell-O” for any reason.

I gave him a wry smile but his eyes were focused past me on the living room. I turned my head to see Matt and Tony standing there, whispering stuff into each other’s ears and giving us the stare down.

“Can we help you?” Dex asked.

“What’s up, boys?” I added in a more lighthearted tone.

The twins exchanged a quick glance before Matt came forward, eyeing Dex with trepidation.

“Uh, we, um, have kind of been listening to you guys and well…”

“We want to help,” Tony spoke up and joined his brother by his side.

“Okaaay,” I said slowly.

“We live here. It’s our lighthouse,” Tony went on, crossing his arms defiantly.

Matt rolled his eyes. “We just think we could help you. For your TV series, internet, whatever it is.”

“And how is that?” Dex asked in a school-teacher voice.

Another quick glance between the twins. I could tell Tony wanted to shoot his mouth off, but Matt pulled up a chair and sat down. He looked at Dex for acknowledgement but faced me to lay it all out. Good cop, bad cop.

“Perry, you know Whiz?”

How could I forget?

“Well,” he continued, “he has a small boat up by Nehalem Bay. We were going to go up there later today anyway to…well, do stuff. So, I was thinking we could take you out on the water. You know, so you guys could get some good shots of the lighthouse from that angle.”

The idea of going out on a boat, especially in crappy weather, was not at all appealing but I could see Dex was starting to give it serious thought. It’s like Matt knew the magic phrase was “good shots.” Seemed the way to Dex’s heart was anything that would help his filmmaking.

That, and pie.

Dex looked down at the drawings and then out the window at the grey sky. I waited for him to say something. We all did.

Finally he looked back at Matt and shrugged. “Sure, if you think it’s a good idea.”

He wanted to appear nonchalant, but I could tell he was probably kicking himself inside for not suggesting it in the first place. I guess some different shots and points of view really would add some variety to the way we’ve been doing things, and I know the twins had been feeling a bit left out during this ordeal which did happen to be on
their
property. Still, I felt uneasy about it. That was nothing new at this point—I was feeling uneasy just talking about pie—but going out on the water, with Whiz at the wheel no less, just seemed like some sort of accident waiting to happen.

Matt and Tony gave each matching grins. Tony laughed. “Good thing, cuz we already told Whiz about it. He’s waiting for us at the dock.”

Now it was time for Dex and me to exchange an uneasy glance. Figures we’d have the wool pulled over our eyes by them.

Uncle Al had stepped out for a bit, which was probably for the best. Despite having a thirty two-year-old, a twenty-two year-old and two nineteen-year-olds making their own decisions, I know he wouldn’t be too happy to hear we’d be going out boating, and with “The Whiz” no less.

We quickly got the equipment ready, plus found a few extra plastic bags and ponchos for emergencies in case the rain started to pick up again (inevitable), and headed to the twins’ truck.

Dex and I got into the narrow back seat, which for some reason had a crab trap taking up half of it. I didn’t know what the point of having a truck was if you weren’t going to keep things in the canopy part of it but now was not the time to question the twins on anything. Unfortunately, this meant that I had to practically sit on Dex’s lap.

OK, maybe it wasn’t that unfortunate. The seats themselves were damp and a bit moldy, whereas Dex’s leg was firm and warm. Did I mention firm? And warm?

Still, I couldn’t help but give him a quick, embarrassed smile for not only having the weight of one ass cheek and one thigh on top of him, but for being so close to him. I was literally right up there in his face.

“Sorry,” I said, my voice lowered. Because my lips were only inches from his, the last thing I wanted to do was breathe my stinky breath all over him.

He smirked, maybe thinking the same thing. Meanwhile I was aware that the twins were staring at us from the front.

“Yeah, sorry about the crab trap there,” Matt said, eyeing us in the rearview mirror. “We didn’t want to get it wet.”

No point even trying to figure that out. I just gave them a well-placed eye roll and we were on our way.

Of course, the road was a bit bumpy coming out of the driveway and I was instantly aware again of A) how much I weighed and B) how much my boobs jostled when they hit a pothole. I swear, they almost took Dex out at one point. I had to bite my lip hard to stop myself from laughing about it and avoided looking directly at him, as if he was a solar eclipse.

After twenty minutes of being way too aware of Dex’s body beneath me and his hot breath at the nape of my neck,
and
being subjected to nonstop Nickleback courtesy of the twin’s God-awful CD player, we finally rolled into a shoddy-looking marina littered with half-abandoned fishing trawlers and stacks of rotting crates.

We piled out of the truck and into the air, which was colder and wetter up here. Whiz sauntered over to us, looking every bit the punk that I remembered from a week ago: a scruffy face, fraying hoodie, and sleazy eyes. Actually, in the daylight, he looked older, too, which didn’t bode well considering he made out with my fifteen-year-old sister.

He greeted the twins like they were all from the same hood in Compton and gave Dex and me the head nod.

“What up, ghost hunters?” he said. “Ready to get fucked up?”

“Uh,” I said, looking up at Dex. I could see Whiz was going to grate on his nerves in two seconds flat.

“We’ll get fucked up later,” Matt said, and gestured to the boat. “How about we take the boat out first?”

“Sounds sensible.” Whiz laughed and took a mickey of rum out of his front pocket. He took a swig and winked at Dex and me. “It’s my right as a pirate.”

He walked off to the docks with the boys following close behind. I shook my head and muttered, “Can’t believe he made out with my sister.”

Dex laughed. “That fuckwit made out with your sister? Isn’t she in high school?”

I sighed. “Yes, she is.”

He smirked at that. “I know you ladies like the bad boys and all...”

I chuckled, maybe too hard. “I don’t!”

He raised his brow at me, the ring catching the weak light.

“Good to hear,” he said with a sly grin, and started after the boys.

We walked down the slippery dock past leftover fish guts, missing planks, and barnacled hulls until we came to Whiz’s boat. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a shit heap like the rest of the boats seemed to be. It was just a small boat with seats and a tiny cabin at the front that had just enough room for a bed. I shuddered internally. I was glad Ada never got to see this place.

We climbed in, covered ourselves and the camera with ponchos (with Whiz driving, I now knew staying dry wasn’t going to be easy) and roared out of the harbor at such a speed that some old man on the docks was waving his fist at us and yelling at us to slow down.

Once we were out of the bay and into the open ocean, things got wild and fast. I was hanging onto my seat for dear life while Dex had to repeatedly yell at Whiz to take us down a few knots. With each wave we hit, the wetter we got. If Dex’s camera was going to get damaged from this, of all things, there would be hell to pay.

Finally, Whiz got the hint. Or rather, Matt took over the wheel and let Whiz and Tony finish the rest of the rum. The boat slowed to a comfortable enough speed that Dex was able to start shooting the shoreline.

We were quite a ways off from the lighthouse, but the pounding grey waves, bustling white surf, and stretches of pastureland and beaches were quite photogenic. And on the other side of us off on the horizon was the faded speck that was the Tillamook Lighthouse. Terrible Tilly.

I pulled the poncho tighter around me. I felt miserably damp and just a tiny bit seasick with each lurch of the boat. To turn my mind off of it, I watched Dex as he lined up the shots, adjusted his camera and panned around us.

“Are you going to need me to be in the shots?” I asked above the roar of the motor. Not that I was filming material at the moment with my damp, matted hair and garbage bag-type attire, but I could have used something to do to keep from throwing up. Funny how I’d never gotten seasick before.

“I think I’m good,” he said, keeping his eye on the viewfinder. “These will probably just have some narration over them later.”

He gave me a quick, curious look. “Are you OK?”

I was about to answer when Whiz decided to shove the bottle of rum underneath my nose.

“This will fix you up!” he yelled, slurring already.

Well, that was enough to get me to move. I got up to my feet unsteadily, as the boat rocked all over the place, and made my way to the back.

“Hey, careful,” Dex said, grabbing my arm to steady me. I motioned for him to let me go. I felt uncomfortably close to vomiting.

I walked to the opposite edge of the boat, where the Pacific stretched to meet the matching sky, and went down on my knees.

“She’s gonna hurl!” Whiz yelled from the front.

“Shut the fuck up,” I heard Dex tell him.

“You OK, Perry?” Matt asked, ignoring the two.

I motioned for them to just stop talking and leave me alone and concentrated on not losing my lunch over the side.

The bottom of the boat soaked my knees, but I didn’t care. I gripped the edge with my hands and put my head over until all I could see was the sloshing grey surf beneath me.

The guys were all yammering on about something, but somehow my brain was cooperating with me and slowly drowning them out, like my ears had a dimmer switch.

I kept my focus on the churning ocean, concentrating on the myriad of muted, cold colors and the shapes the creamy seafoam was creating with each crest and fall. The waves of nausea continued to pass through me though. The only thing that felt worse was the uneasiness and panic that also coursed through my veins. I was fearful and I didn’t know what of.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the salt air. The roar of the engine, the boys, and sound of the waves subsided until all I heard was the throbbing of my own heart in my head.

“Perry.”

It was a female voice.

I opened my eyes and looked. All I could see was the ocean.

“Perry,” it said again. It was eerily familiar and coming from in front of me. From the waves.

“Perry, are you OK?”

Could I be hearing things?

I slowly turned and looked at the rest of the boat. Dex’s back was to me, still filming the land and the lighthouse, which was now coming into view. Matt was focused on driving while Whiz was yapping to him about something. Tony seemed to be paying attention to him while eyeing me in his peripheral vision.

“Perry, help me,” I heard the voice say again from the direction of the water. My eyes widened and heart slowed. I had no choice but to look back over the edge of the boat.

In the water, it looked like something dark was moving beneath the waves. At first it looked like a passing shadow of a crest, or manipulation by a white cap. But the more I stared, the more I could make out something.

Was it an arm? It moved like one.

Then fingertips. I could see a hand just below the water’s surface.

I tried to scream, to say anything, to move. But I couldn’t. I could only watch a hand reach out of the water, turning from a watery shadow to a physical object. It was shades of green and white, but it was real, with blue veins running up the arm.

And then the arm was joined by another, like a headless person was treading water. I was riveted to the spot where the head should be. I could see the swirling shadows beneath it.

One of the hands started wagging a finger at me. I casually recognized the blue nailpolish on its finger. I had that same shade.

Still gripping the edge with my hands, I slowly got to my knees until I was standing right above and peering down at the body.

The head broke through the water.

It was
me
.