One by One Read online

  “No dog for this family. Cats all the way.”

  Debra smiled as she said it, but Alice wasn’t sure what her mother was thinking at that moment. The confident grin could have been pride, but it might have been relief as well.

  “Sorry to deflate the fantasy…for both of you,” she said, putting a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “I know how much you two like to stir up adventures, but the truth is this is just a coincidence.”

  Debra and Dean ventured off in different directions, leaving Alice and Frank to stare at the wall. Alice could hear Dean’s scoffing little laugh as he walked away.

  “I guess,” Frank said finally, “they’re right. Just a weird little coincidence.”

  “Yeah,” Alice said. “I guess so.”

  Frank stood for a moment, placing his long, wiry hand on her shoulder. “Probably for the best,” he said. “I think we have all the excitement we can handle at the moment.”

  When he walked away, he did so slowly, his eyes still on the painting until he disappeared around the corner. Alice watched him leave. Then, for a long time, she studied the picture with awestruck eyes.

  * * *

  Dinner was a sublime mixture of Chinese takeout, store-bought break and bake cookies, and bottled water. Alice asked why they didn’t use the tap, and Frank assured her the “old taste” would wash out of the pipes soon enough.

  “Should just be a day or two,” he added. “Perfectly safe to bathe in though.”

  The work was far from done, but enough of the essentials were in place for the family to begin to get at least a little bit comfortable. The couches and loveseat were arranged around the living room, and even without an entertainment center or cable, the TV, cable box, and DVD player were in place. The calming, soothing drone of a movie they’d all seen a dozen times filled the quiet halls, changing the strange house into something familiar, comforting even. Dean, who was old enough to remember the first few times the family had moved, seemed apathetic, tapping away on his phone. For Alice, it was a completely new sensation. The new territory filled her with a deep, bone-aching feeling of homesickness blended with a surging fear of the night to come.

  Soon, the sun was down, but the work continued into the evening. Debra went from room to room, putting sheets on each bed after Frank finally got them up. Beds were made, pillows arranged and piled up, and one by one, the family began to wilt. Even Dean, who had spent his day pretending to work, looked ready to fall into a bed, no matter how strange the room might be. For Alice, there came a final, ultimate moment of truth as they reconvened in the living room, where her mother yawned, stretched, and finally made it clear to all of them.

  “I think we need to call it a night soon,” she said, pouring herself a glass of red wine and sinking into the loveseat.

  Frank scratched his belly, slid off his glasses, and rubbed his temples. “I’m pooped,” he said. “So much more to do tomorrow.” He glanced at his phone for a second, then slipped his glasses back on. “Well, shit.…”

  “What?” Debra asked through a yawn.

  “Cold front coming in a few days. Looking like snow…maybe a lot of snow.”

  Excitement, at least for this moment, pushed Alice’s nervous fear aside. They never got much snow this far south, and anything more than an inch was reason to celebrate.

  “How much?” she asked.

  Frank squinted. “Well, hell…if you believe the weather app, over five inches.”

  Alice’s heart skipped a beat, and even the notoriously hard-to-excite Dean glanced up from his phone. Frank saw her perk up, but he was quick to let her down easy.

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” he said. “Probably been fifteen years since we’ve had snow like that. And about half the time they predict it, we end up with less than an inch.”

  “Yeah,” Dean added, “no way we’re getting five inches.”

  Alice deflated, and Frank backpedaled at least a bit. “You never know though. Weather does whatever it wants, so…you just never know. But…what I do know is we need to get some sleep. If it gets rough, we need to make sure we’re comfy, which means there’s a lot more to do tomorrow to get ready.”

  He looked at both of the kids, one after the other. “You kids good for the night?” He would never have asked a question like that before, but Alice understood. This was new territory, and being a little apprehensive was expected, even welcome. And despite the way it might look from the outside, Alice wasn’t yet old enough to be immune to parental concern.

  “Dean-o? You good?”

  He nodded. “Yup.”

  Alice envied the unearned confidence of teenagers.

  “Alice? You good?”

  Her face couldn’t begin to hide it, but what else could she say? She was too old to climb into Mommy and Daddy’s bed, even if that was exactly what she wanted to do. The thought of the virtual miles between her and her parents sickened her probably just as much as it thrilled Dean. He had his own little corner of the place, complete with a side door in and out, closer to his room than any other room in the house. She could only imagine how much Dean would be using that on the weekends, especially after he was driving.

  And, in her own way, Alice had her little corner as well. Her parents’ room was upstairs, past windows that led into other rooms, a heavy green door that led into a cellar pulled from a horror movie, a narrow, harrowing set of stairs, and a half door that led into a shadowy crawl space and the attic beyond. Laid out in her mind, it reminded her of a level in a video game, the obstacles growing in length and complexity before hitting the finish line.

  “I’m good.”

  Frank was still yawning, still rubbing his eyes when she answered. If there was any nuanced fear in her body language, he didn’t notice it.

  “Sounds good. Don’t stay up too late, kiddos.”

  Debra sat a moment longer, waiting for her two boys to exit before she finally spoke.

  “It’s a little…different,” she said, finishing off her glass of red wine.

  Alice nodded, not quite able to find her voice. She was on unsteady ground, and she knew that if she said anything, she’d break. She wanted this. It was clear from that first day, with her and her father both like giddy children, drunk on the power of this place. That truth was clear to everyone, especially her mother, and to go back on it now would be a mistake she might never live down. She half expected her mother to pounce, to dig in and force a confession from her daughter, to make her admit, even if Frank never did, that this was all a terrible idea.

  “Did I ever tell you about how much I moved around as a kid?” Debra asked, suddenly filling the gulf of silence between them. Alice cocked her eyebrows and shook her head, her voice still not safe to use just yet. Debra leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

  “Yeah, my parents got divorced when I was eight. I bet Mom moved us probably ten, twelve times before I was old enough to move out on my own. I never really understood what it did to me when I was a kid. All I knew was how much I hated it, especially that first time. Our house was tiny, but it was all I ever knew. It had this little pine tree in the front yard, probably fifteen feet tall, definitely nothing special. But I was small enough that I could sneak in there, past all the needles, and just hide. It was like a clubhouse that nature built for me, and I used to imagine that I could live in there, you know? That if I ever got tired of the arguing and fighting, I could just take my blanket, some pillows, some food, and that would just be my new home.”

  Debra was staring off into some unseen distance with the saddest smile Alice had ever seen on her face. “I hated her for making me leave.”

  “I don’t hate you,” Alice said.

  Debra laughed and wiped her eye. “I know that. That’s not what I’m saying. I just know what it’s like. Mom was always running from…well, whatever was around at the moment. It took me years to realize she wasn’t
just shitty with money, even though she totally was. She was just trying to make it work. Stay somewhere six months, a year, maybe two if you’re lucky; then it’s wheels up again, a few months late on rent, a few extra months’ worth of cash in your pocket, and boom, onto the next one.”

  “Granny was like that?”

  Debra smiled. “You’ve met her. You really that surprised?”

  “No, not really.”

  “When I married your dad, I saw that he had a little bit of that…how do I even say it? Butterfly chasing in him. He would have been the type to up and move us on a whim.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  Debra grinned, a sneaky thing that was full of grown-up secrets. “Oh no. I’m the one who crunches the numbers, and believe me, I crunched the hell out of these. We’re coming out good here. And despite what your dad thinks about my lack of imagination, I can see what this place could be. I can see the sculpture hiding under all this…clay. This wasn’t a quick choice on my part, honey. And I promise you, we won’t be doing this twice.”

  Debra stood up, stretched, and added, “If you want to sleep out here, it’s fine.” She thought for a moment and said, “I’ll even join you if you want me to. Make it a little girls’ night campout.”

  Alice smiled. The idea sounded wonderful to her, but she saw this first night as something bigger. A sort of test. She had to make it through alone.

  “Thanks, Mom. But I’m good. Really, I am.”

  “Okay then. You know where to find us.”

  * * *

  Alice had every intention of heading to bed soon after she had the living room to herself, but a chorus of voices came into her mind, each whispering softly, “Just a few minutes more.” So, she finished one movie, thought a bit, then popped in another one. By the time she finally awoke after dozing, it was already after midnight, and the house was a silent tomb. For a few minutes, she sat there, working up the nerve to even stand up out of the comforting groove she had made in the couch. That was when she heard the first pop.

  In a flash, she was on her feet, scanning the well-lit room and the darkened corners just beyond it. The kitchen was a dim mix of shadows and hidden alcoves, the hall behind as black as the void of deep space. She waited, holding her breath, anxious and terrified to see if the sound would repeat. It never did.

  The wind blew outside, not a howl but a whisper. She flipped on the kitchen light as she passed by, knowing full well that there was no way in hell it would be turned off again before she was in bed. A few extra dollars on the electric bill was a small price to pay for her safety against the unnamable things that hid in the dark. Slowly, she made her way across the living room, toward the hall that led to her bedroom, past the front sitting room with the wide, black aperture of a window, past the narrow staircase, past the silent closed door that was her brother’s room. The two of them shared that end of the house, each of the separate rooms divided by a hallway. Dean’s room had doors on both ends, one that led back into the sitting room and one to the house’s side exit.

  For a moment, Alice hovered in the room between, listening for signs her brother was still awake. Once more, from some deeper corner of the house, she heard a pop, and the hair on her neck stood up like a cat’s.

  “Baxter,” she said under her breath.

  It had to be him. Old houses were well known for how talkative they could be, but that nosy cat was no doubt making the place his personal playground. She could only imagine the tight corners he could squeeze into, and she fully expected him to disappear for hours, if not days, at a time.

  Are you going to just stand there, girl?

  The new voice again, a subtle, mocking tone. It was a fair thing to ask. This was, after all, her house, her room, her still-packed boxes of junk, and she wasn’t going to be scared away from it, especially by nosy cats and creaking floorboards. With her courage firmly in place, she stepped into her room with the same teenage confidence that Dean had shown. Then, her heart sank like a stone. Her father, despite his best intentions, had not gotten the blinds in place as he said he would.

  It was ghoulish somehow, the view from her safe, quiet room into the unfinished wood and moonlit windows of the long utility room. It wasn’t any more dangerous than anything else she had seen in the house up to that point, and yet, it felt like a strange breach of her privacy, as if she’d be sleeping inside an aquarium.

  “It’s fine,” she said to herself with a deep breath.

  No, no, no, it’s not, another voice said, the part of her mind that dealt exclusively in irrational fear. Can’t sleep like this, never, never, never!

  Alice closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind. After a few deep breaths, she opened them again, seeing the room with fresh eyes.

  What do you see?

  Boxes, filled with memories, her memories. A comforter, warm and soft, the years of use only making it more comfy. A bed, a refuge, a place to rest after a long day.

  It’s warm in there. Warm and safe.

  Like a spell, a feeling of calm sleepiness began to wash over her. Her bed was a slice of her old house, carved out and slipped right into this new place, and all the fearsome creaks and moans couldn’t keep her out of it.

  She slid under the covers, hunkered down between the pillows, and sighed deeply. It was like being inside her own personal cocoon, so comfy and safe that she suddenly realized she had left the bedside lamp on. She considered ignoring it, just sleeping with the light on for one short night. What could be the harm in that? Alice didn’t have nearly as much of her mother in her as she did her dad, but there were moments here and there. The idea of sleeping with the light on felt like the way her father might handle the situation. It would be a small concession made in the moment for a single purpose: to make herself feel better. In a way, it would be a bit like giving up, like admitting that she was, still in fact, a child. Her mother would have seen the silliness in it, and for once, Alice did too. Without a hint of hesitation, she reached up and flipped off the lamp.

  The dark swallowed her, and she burrowed deeper into the blankets and pillows like a turtle receding into its shell. For a long time, there was nothing but darkness and the nervous, anxious sounds of her own body. Her breath coming in short, sharp spurts. Her heart thumping. Her ears ringing, filled with nervously pumping blood.

  Alice couldn’t begin to guess how long she stayed just like that, eyes wide, though seeing nothing but the comforter in front of her face. It might have been minutes, hours, but it felt more like years, unbroken in the silent dark. She might have stayed like that all night, maybe even forever, if it wasn’t so damn hot. The comforter, a thick, pink wall of goose down, was like a shirt that was too tight. The more time that passed, the more impossible breathing felt, until she knew she couldn’t stand it a minute longer. Finally, Alice peeled back the cover and stared into the midnight world of her room.

  Now that her eyes had adjusted, it wasn’t nearly as dark as she’d thought it would be, especially with the blinds not up yet. With a proper set of curtains and blinds, it might have been a true, deep black, but the moon peeked through the layers of windows from the utility room, coating half the room in a soft blue glow. She gazed at the wall, her eyes open and unblinking, refusing to look away for a moment. The minutes ticked by, and all at once, the mysterious fear of the room vanished, leaving behind only the growing sense of ownership she felt for this new chapter of her life.

  “My room,” she whispered, snuggling down and letting her eyes drift closed in contented silence for the first time.

  * * *

  Alice dreamt.

  It was as strange and unreal as every other dream she could remember. The room, her room, was almost the same, but not quite. Bits stood out in strange, otherworldly ways, like the unopened boxes piled around the corner of her vision. And the fact that her bed wasn’t positioned quite right, the ceiling farther away
than it should be. And the way her windows, devoid of blinds or curtains, stretched wide, like monstrous mouths. These were false things, dream things, and she had experienced enough dreams to know not to fret too much over the weirdness. It was still her house.

  Alice wanted to get out of bed, to wander, to see why she felt so bizarre, so visible. The idea rose in her mind that somehow she was in an aquarium, a feeling of being inside a glass tank to be gawked at and studied. It was a truly eerie feeling, but that still didn’t explain the dread she felt, the cold hand massaging her heart.

  No.

  There was something else.

  Something…wrong.

  There was a darkness in the corner of her vision, something she couldn’t quite place, that maybe she didn’t want to place it.

  Don’t look. You won’t see it if you don’t look.

  The truth was she couldn’t look, not without moving first. It was gentle, a careful movement so subtle that it might not have happened at all. It was less than breathing, less than blinking, just a slight…turn. That was all it took for Alice to realize that the dark spot at the corner of the window was actually a silhouette. After that, it was the only thing she could see.

  A face…

  The fuzzy outline was hair, a wild mane of it. It was close, so close that Alice would have seen the fog of breath on the window if it wasn’t so dark. She refused to move, refused to turn her head an inch, but she couldn’t look away, not even for a moment. She was, without question, being watched. The fact that she was watching back did little to calm the throb inside her chest.

  The moment lingered, stretched, and she became part of the darkness, one with despair. Never before had such a fear shadowed her heart, and in the eye of that terrifying storm, she would have welcomed death as a release from that heart-chilling terror.

  No.

  Alice studied the dark, featureless shape, focusing on the edges, and its utter, complete stillness. The dream seemed to congeal around her, the intangible nature of time making the truth clear to her after such a seemingly endless span.