Annie's Room (14 page)

“Scott, I can't do this without you.” I wait for him to reply, but a moment later he turns and looks past me, and I can immediately tell from his shocked expression that he's seen something.

Turning, I see that the figure from before is walking out of the room, quickly disappearing into the hallway.

“Did you see that too?” I ask, turning back to Scott. “Where have you guys been all day?”

“Here,” he stammers, his voice choked with tears.

“Here?” I stare at him. “You've been right here all day, like this?”

“I...” He stares at me, but he's shaking too much to say anything.

“Did you hear me calling out?” I ask. “I was in my room, I was trying to get someone's attention.”

“I couldn't do anything,” he sobs. “I heard you, but I couldn't move.”

“Did you -”

Before I can finish, there's a loud bumping sound from one of the upstairs rooms. Someone's definitely up there.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask, turning back to Scott. When he doesn't answer, I crawl closer and put my hands on his shoulders. “Scott, I know you're scared but right now you have to listen to me, okay? I need to know where Mom and Dad are, and I need to -”

“She's coming,” he replies, his voice sounding a little firmer this time.

“Who's coming?” I ask.

No reply.

“Scott,” I continue, “
who's
coming? Is it Mom? Is Mom coming?”

He shakes his head.

“Then who?” I ask.

He opens his mouth, but the tears are running more freely than ever.

“Who's coming?” I continue, trying to stay calm. “Scott, tell me!”

“Annie,” he whispers, his voice so tense with fear, it's as if he might shatter. He turns and looks out through the open porch door. “Annie's coming.”

“Annie? Scott,
I'm
Annie, I'm right -”

I stop suddenly, before turning and looking out toward the lawn. In the distance, the line of trees can just about be made out in the darkness.

“Annie's coming,” Scott says again. “The first Annie.”

“The...” Figuring that he must mean Annie Garrett, I turn to him. “Have you seen her?”

He shakes his head. “She's coming.”

“Scott,” I continue, “I need you to work with me, okay? Just answer a couple of questions. Where's Mom?”

He stares at me, before looking down at the floor.

“Scott, answer me! Where is she?”

I wait, before suddenly realizing that by staring at the floor, maybe he
is
answering me.

“In the basement?” I ask. “Scott, is Mom in the basement?”

“Dad was really mad at her,” he continues, sniffing back more tears. “He was so mad, he...”

I wait for him to continue.

“He what?” I ask finally, refusing to believe that Dad would ever do anything truly bad. “Scott, what did Dad do? Where's Mom now?”

“I don't know,” he replies, breaking down into a fresh wave of sobs. “Dad had a shovel.”

“It's okay,” I tell him, putting an arm around his trembling shoulder. “Everything's going to be okay,” I add, even though I know those words sound so hollow right now. Glancing back, I see the door to the basement and realize that I'm going to have to check to see if Mom's down there. “Scott,” I continue, “I need you to do something, and it's really important, okay?”

I wait for him to reply, before pulling back and putting my hand under his chin. When I tilt his face up, I see his tear-stained face staring back at me.

“I need you to find the car keys,” I tell him. “Do you know where Mom and Dad kept them? They used to put them in the fruit-bowl in the old apartment, remember? What about here? Where do they keep all the keys, do you know?”

He shakes his head.

“Then I need you to find them,” I continue. “Look in coat pockets, in bowls, in drawers, anywhere you think they could be. Do you think you can do that?”

He glances past me, as if he's scared that he'll see the figure again.

“Don't think about any of that,” I add. “Scott, no-one's going to come and help us, so we have to go and
get
help. Not just for us, but for Mom and Dad too. I'll check the basement, but you have to find the car keys, do you understand?”

He stares at me for a moment, before slowly nodding.

“Okay,” I continue, using my elbows to turn around. “Meet me out front by the car, and don't worry. There's nothing here that can hurt you. Even if you think you see someone, it's just...” I pause for a moment, staring at the empty room and the doorway ahead. “It's just whispers of people, that's all. Whispers can't hurt us.”

“But -”

“Just go!” I shout, as I start to crawl across toward the basement door. “Ignore everything else and find those keys!”

Glancing over my shoulder, I see to my relief that he's gotten to his feet and is looking on the kitchen counter. Turning, I crawl toward the basement door and when I look up I see to my relief that the padlock is hanging loose. I reach for the handle, but it's a little higher than the others and it takes a moment before I can get a few fingertips onto the edge. I have to try several times, but finally I get the damn thing to turn and manage to pull the door open. The effort is extreme, and I'm breathless by the time I manage to look down into the darkness below.

“Mom?” I shout. “Mom, are you down there?”

I wait, desperately hoping that she'll reply.

After a couple of seconds, I start to crawl forward, dropping down onto the top step. With just the kitchen's moonlit wall to help, I peer down into the darkness, but even squinting isn't enough and I can't see a damn thing. I wince with pain as I start to pull myself down a few more steps, until my hips drop onto the top step and I find that I can peer through the railings. I have no idea how large the basement is supposed to be, but I can't see anything at all. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I'm just about able to make out the brick wall extending away from the steps, but that doesn't help too much.

“Mom?” I call out, as tears start rolling down my face. “Mom, please, I need you. Please, you have to -”

Suddenly there's a loud bump, followed by another. I wait, frozen with fear, and to my horror I see a figure starting to make its way slowly up the steps toward me, emerging from the darkness of the basement. With a growing sense of horror, I realize that it's the woman from the lawn. She stops for a moment, her cold, dead eyes fixed on me, criss-crossed by what appear to be hundreds of little scratches; a fraction of a second later, she starts running up toward me, her feet banging on the steps as she reaches out.

“No!” I shout, instinctively pulling back and starting to haul myself back up through the doorway as she's about to grab me. Fumbling with the door, I manage to push it shut just in time to keep her from coming out. I look up at the handle, expecting it to turn, but there's nothing.

I wait.

My heart is pounding so fast, I feel as if it might burst out of my chest at any moment.

“Who are you?” I scream, leaning against the door in case she tries to get through. “What have you done with my parents?”

A moment later, I hear someone sobbing nearby.

I turn, but I don't see anyone. Still, the sobbing continues and I can't tell it's not Scott. It sounds like a woman, but it's coming from all around, as if someone's sorrow and grief is hanging in the air.

For a moment, I feel as if I can't go on. I'm exhausted and in pain, and I still don't understand what's going on here. After a couple of seconds, however, my strength returns and I realize that I have to go and find Scott. Grabbing a nearby wooden chair, I push it against the basement door and wedge the back under the handle. Turning, I start crawling across the floor, heading for the porch door in the hope that Scott has found the keys and has gone to wait for my by the car. Just as I'm about to reach the door, however, I hear a banging sound, and I turn just in time to see the chair flying through the air, smashing into the opposite wall. The basement door opens and the woman steps through, her damaged eyes fixed on me.

“Please,” I whimper, with tears running down my face, “whatever you want...”

“You have to get out of here,” she replies with a cold, terrified voice as she turns looks toward the back door. “She's coming.”

“Who's coming?” I ask, although I think I already know the answer. “Is it Annie? Is Annie coming?”

I wait, before turning as I hear a bumping sound from the room above. A moment later, glancing toward the hallway, I spot something moving down the stairs. Footsteps. Slow, calm footsteps.

“Is that her?” I ask, using my elbows to crawl past the woman and over to the porch door. “What does she want?”

“She wants you,” the woman replies, turning to look down at me. “It might be too late.”

“She wants me? What -”

“Run!” she screams, staring across the lawn. “Get away from her!”

Panicking, I turn and crawl out onto the porch and then over toward the steps. Light rain is still falling but all I can think about is that I have to get away from the house. I don't even stop when I reach the steps; instead, I throw myself down and try to stop my fall with my hands as I clatter toward the bottom. Landing hard, I let out a cry of pain as I feel my legs banging against the steps, but even
that
doesn't stop me. I gasp as I start to drag myself away, while looking around for some sign of Scott. I can see the car, but Scott's not with it so I look toward the trees. Figuring he must have gone that way, I start dragging myself across the lawn as rain falls all around.

Digging my hands into the rain-soaked mud, I start pulling myself along.

“Mom!” I scream. “Help me!”

I don't know how I manage to keep going with the pain in my arms and legs, but somehow I manage to drag my exhausted, broken body through the mud and rain for a few more meters before looking back over my shoulder. Sure enough, there's a figure in the doorway, stepping through and making its way down to join me on the lawn.

Annie Garrett.

It has to be her.

“Leave me alone!” I shout, with tears running down my cheeks. “What do you want from me?”

Turning again, I keep going, hauling myself across the lawn even though I know the figure must be catching up to me. All I can think about is that I have to get to safety and that I have to find Scott and make sure he's okay. Hopefully Mom was able to get away, and Dad too, and eventually we can figure out exactly what the hell happened in this place. I dig my hands deeper into the mud, struggling to get a grip, until I've pulled myself a little further along. This time, however, when I bury my fingers in the mud ready to drag myself again, I feel something hard against my fingertips. A moment later, I stare in horror as I lift a bare human skull out of the mud, its bony surface lit by the moonlight. There are flecks of mud on the skull's face, but rain is quickly washing it clean, and all I can do is stare in horror, even as a shadow falls across me from behind and I realize that the woman from the house is here.

“Annie,” a voice whispers, sounding weak and frail. “Help me.”

“What?” I stare at the skull as I realize that the voice seemed to come from its mouth. After a moment, I start to recognize the voice, although there's no way...

“Annie,” it says again, “please...”

I blink, and suddenly I realize that the skull isn't a skull at all. It's my mother, with just her face poking out from the mud as if someone tried to bury her.

“Help me,” she whispers, before looking past me. Her eyes widen in horror, and then she screams: “Annie! Help!”

Frantically trying to dig her out from the muddy pit, I struggle until I'm able to get her arms free, which allows her to help herself. There's a thick, bloody wound on the side of her head, with fresh blood mixed with mud and running down onto her face. After a moment, I spot a shovel half-buried in the mud nearby.

“Where's Scott?” she stammers, wincing with pain.

“I don't know,” I reply. “Where's Dad?”

“Your father...” She gasps as fresh blood flows from her wound. “Your father tried to kill me. He tried to bury me alive.”

“No,” I say firmly, “Dad wouldn't do that, Dad would never -”

“It wasn't really him,” she stammers, before looking past me. “Annie...” She lets out a faint gasp, before losing consciousness.

“Mom!” I shout, trying to shake her back awake. “Mom, you have to listen to me! You have to -”

I freeze as I see a shadow falling across me from behind. Suddenly the dead woman crouches down next to us, and I turn to see that she's staring straight ahead, watching the trees at the far end of the lawn.

“She's coming,” she says, her voice filled with terror. “I tried to help you, but now she's coming.”

“Who's coming?” I ask, staring at her.

“Annie,” she replies. “Annie's coming.”

“But...” I pause for a moment. “You mean Annie Garrett? Is that who's coming?”

“No,” she replies, Annie Garrett was my daughter. She's gone, she was taken away but...” She pauses, and then she points toward the trees. “There.
She's
coming. The other Annie.”