Marie peered through the front window and frowned, glancing first one way down the darkened street, then the other. All the cars along the walk were sleepy and sedentary - their operators had long since silenced the engines and gone up their own walks to their big screens and their Hungry Man dinners. The plucky yellow Volkswagen she was waiting for was nowhere to be found, and she was starting to worry. Lynn was rarely late.
A sudden squeal behind her drew her attention, and she turned to rake her wards with a look that was both slightly amused and exasperated. Popcorn had leapt from the large plastic bowl and onto the floor while Karen huddled in the corner of the couch, her twin brother Kyle cackling as he waggled a glove fashioned to look like a large, hairy spider at his sister. The dog, suddenly quite interested, rose from his bed and lumbered across the carpet to Hoover up the salty, crunchy mess. Marie rolled her eyes.
”If you two don’t settle you’ll go upstairs now instead of when the movie’s over,” she warned, stopping to turn the volume of the TV down a few notches on her way to the kitchen. “No one promised you a movie if you didn’t behave.”
”Mom says you’re only the boss ‘til 1,” Kyle said, the words emerging around a huge wad of partially-macerated popcorn. “When they get home, you’re just old Marie again.”
”Maybe,” Marie said as she leaned over the back of the couch and scooped up the remote control. “But I’ve got the remote, and if you don’t straighten up, you’ll spend the next hour watching Sesame Street reruns instead of "The Darkest Road." You shouldn’t even be watching it in the first place.”
Karen chucked a handful of popcorn at her brother, and Kyle showed her the mostly-mashed product in his mouth as a response. But they seemed to quiet down, and Marie lifted the phone from it’s cradle and mashed the redial.
”Lynn, I’m starting to worry. You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. You’re not answering your texts, you won’t pick up the phone…what’s going on, girlie?”
Marie frowned at the handset, as if by making disappointed faces at it she could make it produce her friend on the other side of the line. While she wasn’t technically supposed to have company over when she was babysitting, Lynn was an exception. The twins’s mother had been a babysitter in high school too, and Lynn had been one of “her kids.” Besides, it’s not as if the girls broke into the Nelson’s liquor cabinet (stocked with only the best grocery store wine and mid-shelf whiskey, of course) or invited boys over. They just sat on the couch after the kids had gone to bed, watched stupid movies and occasionally raided the fridge for leftovers. Juvenile delinquents, the both of them, but they kept each other company in the suburban watches of the night, and Marie was worried.
Three hours later, the kids were in bed, and Marie sat on the couch with her legs tucked under her, barely watching the TV. Lynn had never showed, and the twins’s parents were late. She considered dialing the restaurant’s number, but suddenly she heard a noise. She paused with her thumb hovering over the phone’s power button and listened.
Rat. Rat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
A chill ran down her spine and she pulled her sweatshirt closer. The Nelson’s always kept the house thermostat turned low. Something about conserving energy and freezing out skinny teenagers. Rising from the couch, she crossed the room and nudged aside the curtains at the window, peering out again into the street.
Rat. Rat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
It was getting closer, though Marie still couldn’t tell quite where it was coming from. The light suddenly changed, and she jerked her gaze to the left, craning her neck to see further down the quiet street. It was dark all save for the weak pools of light cast down by the streetlamps.
Until one went out.
Marie blinked and stared out through the pane. Light bulbs went out all the time, didn’t they? Especially down streets like these. They weren’t heavily trafficked, it wasn’t quite cold enough to snow and plow, so no one would especially notice. Light bulbs went out all the…
Rat.
Time.
Rat.
Another light blew.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
The sound drew closer, and as it did, the streetlamps continued to die.
Rat.
Rat.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
With each beat, each abrupt percussion, a streetlamp blew. The sound slowly progressed, growing closer down the avenue, until finally Marie noticed that it was considerably darker, dimmer, and that the pools of light just at the crest of the small hill were beginning to wink out.
A sudden fear gripped her, and she knew. This thing, this sound had kept Lynn from arriving. It had made the Nelson’s decide on one more drink, it had made their car swerve off the road, it had blocked them from coming home. It had kept all warning signs from bleeding through the TV and radio broadcasts. It was malevolent.
And it was coming.
Rat. Rat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
Marie tore her eyes from the dying streetlights - she could see a thick shape at the darkness’s leading edge, but her mind didn’t want to tell her exactly what it was. A sudden jab of worry distracted her, and she ran up the stairs to the twins’s room. They were sleeping, small piles of blankets and pillows, Kyle snoring softly into his stuffed bear. They were still young enough to sleep within arm’s length of each other, and she put her hands over their mouths, both shaking them awake and muffling their cries of surprise.
”We need to get into the closet now,” she said, pulling back the covers and gathering both of them into her arms. “Shhh, don’t ask me any questions. Something’s coming. If I’m wrong, I’ll be your slave for a month, but please, shut up.”
The idea of having a grownup for a slave seemed to quiet any protests they might have had, and they scuttled into the bedroom closet, hunkering down in the corners among the shoes and snickering to themselves about what they were going to make the crazy babysitter do. Marie just stood, holding the handles of the folding doors closed, and peered out through the wooden slats into the bedroom.
The sound came closer.
Rat. Rat. Rat-a-tat-tat.
She could hear—hell, she could practically see—thick, cartoonish white boots slowly marching up the walk towards the house. Each step made a small rattle, as if adorned with bells.
Rat. Rat. Rat-a-
BOOM.
The front door, polished oak that she had locked with a deadbolt and chain, flew open at the bottom of the stairs, and the cool night air swirled into the house. Marie stifled a small scream, and the children silenced themselves as they glanced from each other’s faces to hers with expressions of both confusion and dawning terror.
Rat.
The first heavy tread fell on the stairs, and Marie knew that those previously bleach-white boots were dashed with dark, running red.
Rat.
The large drum that led the creature’s way was smeared with blood, the mallets in it’s gloved hands saturated and spongy, slinging trails of red across the walls, the banister, and onto the steps.
Rat-a-tat-tat.
It had reached the landing. The sound of the constant, rhythmic drumming was drilling a spike into Marie’s head, forcing her eyes closed and enveloping her senses until she almost forgot about the two children behind her. A shadow moved across the bedroom floor.
Rat-a-tat.
Parade rest. Marie opened her eyes. The silence was nearly complete, and she stared through the slats into two cheerful, blue-painted orbs on a milk-white face. A long, conical yellow nose with a pointed tip thrust out from it’s face, and a broad, sloppy red grin had been slashed across the lower part of it’s perfectly spherical head. It raised one it’s mallets in a bit of a salute, the thick, slowly congealing red oozing down it’s handle, and the grin seemed to grow wider. The mallet came down, wood splintered and flew, and Marie saw no more.
She only heard the children screaming.
And the drum.
~
The blood had dried on the walls on the way up the stairs, as if some mad art student had decided to try out the Jackson Pollock method in maroon. It was still glistening beneath the broken skull of the dog, half hidden beneath the sofa, but it was already growing tacky. Bits of popcorn were stuck in the stuff, a snack food archipelago, candy-apple coated leavings from a sick state fair. Some black and white late night movie was halfway over on the TV when the local news station broke in, the anchorman looking harried.
"Reports are coming in of partial power outages on the east side of town this evening, causes unknown. Motorists are encouraged to slow down when traveling, especially in residential areas as many street lights are said to be malfunctioning. Officials suggest that pedestrians keep to the sidewalks, carry a light, and walk with a friend until utility companies repair the problem.
”In other news, please be on the lookout for Lynn Marshall, a 16 year old Central student who has been reported missing by family and friends. Lynn has not been seen or heard from in the last 24 hours. If you have any information, please call Crime Stoppers at the number listed below. Your call can be kept completely anonymous. Lynn, if you’re watching, please call home.”
—
Credits to: http://mladyelle.tumblr.com/
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