Laurie ever mentioned this place to him?
His bladder full, he waded across the driveway and stopped at the edge of the old well. Briefly, he contemplated kicking the plank of wood off to the side, unzipping his fly, and pissing down into the black chasm. But that seemed like too much work. Instead, he crossed the lawn and sidled up in front of the wooden fence that separated the two properties. Through the heavy foliage that grew over the top of the fence, he could see the house next-door, dark against the night. There was a flickering bluish light in one of the ground-floor windows that Ted recognized as the glow from a television set. Maybe they weren’t all hillbilly Luddites around here after all.
Still watching the house, he unleashed a stream of urine against the fence. Above, small bats darted across the starry sky. He listened and thought he could hear the distant growl and mutter of boat engines along the river, even at this hour. Ted knew nothing about boats.
Something struck him squarely in the chest. He looked down but found nothing there. He hadn’t seen anything, either, which caused a pang of fear to rise up in him as he considered that the sensation might have actually been internal. They say you feel a heart attack in the left arm first, but was that true one hundred percent of the time?
When something whizzed by his right ear, stinging the rim of cartilage there, he knew it wasn’t a heart attack. He quickly shook off and zipped up his fly. Taking a few steps back from the fence, he tried to peer straight into the darkness and through the tangle of overgrown foliage above the pickets. A moment later, he saw something shoot out from the darkness and rush toward his eyes, quick as a bullet fired from a gun. He blinked and jerked his head to one side just as something hard struck his forehead, just above his left eyebrow. It stung.
He scrambled back toward the driveway, his hands up over his face now in a defensive posture. He listened but could hear nothing. The item that had struck him rolled across the lawn and came to rest beside the old well. It was a small stone.
“Hey! Is someone over there?” His voice was both a whisper and a shout. “I see you,” he lied. “Come out.”
There was a rustling sound on the other side of the fence, like someone treading on a carpet of dead leaves.
But no one came out.
Slowly lowering his hands, he looked up and surveyed the surrounding greenery, pitch-black now in the darkness. The trees rose high over the small fence, their boughs weighty with leaves and birds’ nests. He listened and could hear squirrels or birds or bats moving around up there. Had they dropped acorns or stones down on him? He supposed it was possible, though it seemed unlikely. Besides, the force with which that last stone had hit him couldn’t have been from a bird or a squirrel. And it hadn’t fallen from above, either. It had come from over the fence.
Embarrassed by his own apprehension, he laughed. Then he trotted back across the lawn to the house, where there were lights on in many of the windows and where his girls awaited his return.
Chapter 9
T he next morning, Laurie awoke to find Ted’s side of the bed empty. His running shoes and preposterous-looking spandex shorts were gone, too. She washed and dressed in the adjacent bathroom, then stood for a moment looking at the rumpled bedclothes while trying to remember what it had been like when her parents had still been together and she had lived here. She found it nearly impossible to do so.
As she stepped out onto the second-floor landing, a muted thump caused her to pause. She went down the hall to Susan’s bedroom, opened the door, and was surprised to find the bed empty. Susan rarely got up early on her own accord.
Back out in the hall, Laurie lingered for a moment, waiting to see if the sound would repeat itself. Old houses suffered all sorts of ailments, made all sorts of noises. It could have been the clang of a
His bladder full, he waded across the driveway and stopped at the edge of the old well. Briefly, he contemplated kicking the plank of wood off to the side, unzipping his fly, and pissing down into the black chasm. But that seemed like too much work. Instead, he crossed the lawn and sidled up in front of the wooden fence that separated the two properties. Through the heavy foliage that grew over the top of the fence, he could see the house next-door, dark against the night. There was a flickering bluish light in one of the ground-floor windows that Ted recognized as the glow from a television set. Maybe they weren’t all hillbilly Luddites around here after all.
Still watching the house, he unleashed a stream of urine against the fence. Above, small bats darted across the starry sky. He listened and thought he could hear the distant growl and mutter of boat engines along the river, even at this hour. Ted knew nothing about boats.
Something struck him squarely in the chest. He looked down but found nothing there. He hadn’t seen anything, either, which caused a pang of fear to rise up in him as he considered that the sensation might have actually been internal. They say you feel a heart attack in the left arm first, but was that true one hundred percent of the time?
When something whizzed by his right ear, stinging the rim of cartilage there, he knew it wasn’t a heart attack. He quickly shook off and zipped up his fly. Taking a few steps back from the fence, he tried to peer straight into the darkness and through the tangle of overgrown foliage above the pickets. A moment later, he saw something shoot out from the darkness and rush toward his eyes, quick as a bullet fired from a gun. He blinked and jerked his head to one side just as something hard struck his forehead, just above his left eyebrow. It stung.
He scrambled back toward the driveway, his hands up over his face now in a defensive posture. He listened but could hear nothing. The item that had struck him rolled across the lawn and came to rest beside the old well. It was a small stone.
“Hey! Is someone over there?” His voice was both a whisper and a shout. “I see you,” he lied. “Come out.”
There was a rustling sound on the other side of the fence, like someone treading on a carpet of dead leaves.
But no one came out.
Slowly lowering his hands, he looked up and surveyed the surrounding greenery, pitch-black now in the darkness. The trees rose high over the small fence, their boughs weighty with leaves and birds’ nests. He listened and could hear squirrels or birds or bats moving around up there. Had they dropped acorns or stones down on him? He supposed it was possible, though it seemed unlikely. Besides, the force with which that last stone had hit him couldn’t have been from a bird or a squirrel. And it hadn’t fallen from above, either. It had come from over the fence.
Embarrassed by his own apprehension, he laughed. Then he trotted back across the lawn to the house, where there were lights on in many of the windows and where his girls awaited his return.
Chapter 9
T he next morning, Laurie awoke to find Ted’s side of the bed empty. His running shoes and preposterous-looking spandex shorts were gone, too. She washed and dressed in the adjacent bathroom, then stood for a moment looking at the rumpled bedclothes while trying to remember what it had been like when her parents had still been together and she had lived here. She found it nearly impossible to do so.
As she stepped out onto the second-floor landing, a muted thump caused her to pause. She went down the hall to Susan’s bedroom, opened the door, and was surprised to find the bed empty. Susan rarely got up early on her own accord.
Back out in the hall, Laurie lingered for a moment, waiting to see if the sound would repeat itself. Old houses suffered all sorts of ailments, made all sorts of noises. It could have been the clang of a
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