Apparition (23 page)

“Is she safe?” he asks. He sounds worried.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kip taking the recorder from his dad’s hand as Morris fiddles with settings on the second camera. I focus on Willy.

“Yes, she’s great, I’d say. But she feels bad about losing you so soon after you returned from the war. Do you remember that?” I hear Kip come up behind me. “What happened, Willy?”

Willy shakes his head. “Something terrible,” he says. “I … I think my gun went off.”

“Do you remember how it happened? Was it an accident? Or were you upset? Did you do it on purpose?”

He looks shocked at this suggestion. “On purpose? No! I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. That’s why I survived in the camp. I wanted to live.” He sounds lost, like he’s losing his train of thought. He’s sinking somehow, fading back into the shadows.

“Willy?” I try to pull him back. “Willy, who else is in here with you? Is there … is there a girl in here?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head.

“Do you know who else is in here?”

“Jimmy. Jimmy’s here.” Fear crosses his face and he starts to fade again.

“Wait, don’t go. Stay with me a little longer. Please? Who’s Jimmy?”

But Willy’s not listening. He’s turning away. I look around for Kip and Morris, and I spot someone over by the corner where Morris left his bag. It’s Paul, just standing there, watching us. He’s wearing a tan-coloured corduroy blazer and a light blue cotton shirt with white buttons. He’s wearing glasses with thin brown frames. It’s impossible to imagine him drinking some vile solvent on purpose. He doesn’t look the reckless type.

Just as I’m wondering about Danny, the red-haired boy who died here in the sixties, there’s another sound, like the shuffle of feet high overhead. I dread looking up into the rafters, but I force myself.

No one and nothing there, or not that I can see.

Morris is standing to the side, behind Kip. I whisper, “Paul,” and motion with my head toward the corner. Morris turns rapidly to look in Paul’s direction, eager at the thought of seeing his old friend, but I can tell from his face that he’s not seeing anything. Kip looks at me questioningly, the voice recorder in his hand. He lifts it slightly toward me, offering it. Then he tilts his head up and his eyes narrow. He’s heard something too. He looks back at me. Our eyes meet, and for the first time he seems to be admitting that something strange is going on.

I reach out and take the recorder from him, pressing the play button. I turn up the volume as loud as it will go; it isn’t very loud, but in the barn, with everything suddenly still, the sound fills the space.

I can still see Willy standing in the shadows. “Willy, do you recognize your sister’s voice?” I ask him.

I don’t know how he is going to take this. He stares wide-eyed at the recorder in my hand, his face brightening with recognition. He’s frozen like a statue. He seems to smile and then he starts to fade.

“Willy, don’t go.” I can barely see him now.

I search for Paul, but I can’t see him anymore either. Finally I look around for Matthew. He’s standing behind me, eyes focused on the rafters, a worried expression on his face.

“Matthew? What’s happening?”

His head shakes slowly from side to side. He looks back down at the recorder, then up into the rafters. He’s fading too. And then he’s gone.

On the recorder, Mrs. Ross has been talking about how hard her father worked on the farm, the long days. Now she’s talking about Willy chopping and stacking wood for the winter. I hear rustling coming from one of the stalls. Then I hear something behind me. I shiver and look at Kip. He seems to shiver too. I try to see Willy, but I can’t.

“Everyone’s disappearing,” I whisper as panic settles in. What’s happening?

Mrs. Ross’s voice starts to sound kind of distorted and I hear creaking overhead, high in the rafters. The sound of shuffling along the huge crossbeam. I can tell that Kip hears it too. He’s straining his eyes, staring into the shadows above us.

There’s a sharp crack, almost like thunder, and another piece of barnboard breaks loose from the roof and comes hurtling down, this time rocketing toward Morris. I scream his name. He tries to leap aside, but it smacks him on his left shoulder before slamming to the ground. It has grazed the side of his face, scraping his cheek, and he’s holding his shoulder in pain, staring in disbelief at the board at his feet. The recorder has slipped from my hand but it’s still playing Mrs. Ross’s voice as she struggles with her emotions over Willy’s death. The sound is louder now.

“My God, are you okay?” Kip has rushed to Morris’s side.

“Let’s get out of here,” Morris says tersely.

“Amelia!” Kip says.

We’ve barely taken a step when the rope, a knotted loop at its end, slowly lowers from somewhere high in the rafters. Where did that come from? We freeze where we are, mesmerized. Then it stops, hovering just a few feet above our heads. A wave of cold runs through my body and I feel my eyes pulled to the ground. At our feet, in the dirt, a line is being drawn, slowly, as if by an invisible finger. No one moves. A second line cuts through the first, forming a cross.
Oh God
. We keep watching as a circle gradually forms in the dirt beside the cross.
What does it mean?
I look up at Morris. There’s a drip of blood running into the grey stubble on his cheek. Kip points at the ground. Beside the circle another has started forming, running clockwise from the top. At the bottom it stops, then jerks up in a straight sharp line that makes me jump. It’s like a backwards D. And then it hits me. Not a cross, not a circle—it’s
Dot
spelled backwards. And then the rope drops.

It happens so fast that I barely see it landing like a lasso over Kip’s head. His hands fly to his throat, grabbing hold of the rope as it tightens and chokes him, then jerks him up by his neck so that he’s barely touching the ground, legs flailing. I scream and jump up, grabbing hold of the rope above his head, trying with all my strength to pull it down. Morris does the same, yelling Kip’s name, hauling on the rope above my hands. It doesn’t budge. I search the shadowy rafters. There’s no one holding the rope. There’s a choking sound. Kip is being strangled.

“Kip … Kip … hold on!” I drag down on the rope, my outstretched arms above his head, the two of us hanging face to face. His blue eyes are wide with shock and his face is turning red. His feet kick, struggling to touch the floor. I’m screaming and crying, “Morris, Morris, do something!” Mrs. Ross’s shaking voice still fills the barn.

“Hold on, Kip!” Morris yells. “Hold on!” Kip’s fingers grip the rope against his throat. “Is there anything sharp in here?” Morris shouts
at me. “To cut the rope!” His eyes dart to a spot under the loft as his hands tighten their grip above Kip’s head. “Over there!” I twist to see, scanning through the broken pieces of farm equipment under the loft.

Kip’s lips are turning blue. His eyes are closing. Mrs. Ross’s voice is so loud now that I can barely hear Morris. “Oh my God!” I’m screaming. I don’t know what to do.

I see an old wooden crate of bottles and let go of the rope, running over to dump out the crate and racing back with it to Kip. I plant the crate below his feet and grab his ankles, trying to help him step up on it. He struggles to find his balance, but the extra height makes the rope go slack. Morris and I claw at the tight slipknot, loosening it as fast as we can. Above us the rope begins to pull taut again, before we can get the noose over Kip’s head. In a rage, Morris grabs hold of the rope and yanks on it as hard as he can. For a second nothing happens. Then the rope is suddenly released, dropping so hard and fast that it sends Kip and Morris crashing to the ground.

In the dirt of the barn floor, Morris and I fight to get Kip out of the noose, desperately dragging the rope over his head. Somewhere nearby, Dorothy’s voice stutters and she begins to cry. Kip is on his hands and knees, face close to the ground, gasping and heaving. I can barely breathe myself but my arms are around him. I want to pull him toward me, hold him tight. But we’ve got to get up.

Morris jumps to his feet first, looking up into the rafters. “Get out now!” he yells.

We struggle to our feet and start backing out of the barn, Kip staggering and leaning heavily on me, but Morris runs over to one of the stalls and begins to climb up, like he’s insane with anger. I look up and see the farm boy staring down from a beam high above us. Half of his head and face are blown off, all blood and ragged red tissue. I scream, “Morris! Morris, don’t!”

He stops, looks at Kip and me near the barn entrance, and then jumps back down with a thud that raises more dust and straw. He runs to us.

“Take him under the arm,” he says to me, positioning Kip between us, his arms over each of our shoulders as we lurch toward the door.

Bursting into the daylight, we nearly knock over someone who has appeared from nowhere, blocking our way. It’s Ethan.

“Whoa, what the heck?” he yells as we push past him. “Amelia, what happened?” He’s blinking and twitching excitedly.

We stagger, the three of us, ten or fifteen feet away from the barn, then sink to the snowy ground, with Morris and me trying to control Kip’s landing. We’re all heaving and gasping for air like we’ve been holding our breath for five minutes. At first we can barely speak. Morris examines Kip’s neck. There’s a bright red welt, like a choker, right around it. I feel like I’m going to pass out, just from seeing it.

“Are you all right, Kip? Are you all right?” I’m crying. I can’t believe what just happened. My arms are around his shoulders. I would squeeze harder but I’m afraid he’s hurt. “Kip?”

“I’m okay … I’m okay.” He’s nodding, shaking, still coughing and struggling for air.

“What the hell is going on here?”

This time we all look up in surprise. My arms drop from Kip’s shoulders. It’s Detective Grierson. His police cruiser sits parked behind Morris’s car in the driveway. At first we’re all too stunned to respond. Then Kip speaks up.

“It was just a freak accident,” he says between gasps. “I … tripped and fell … got caught up in a rope hanging from somewhere … almost hanged myself.” His voice drifts off and he swears under his breath, a look of complete shock on his face.

I grab his hand. I can’t help it. I whisper in his ear, “Oh my God, Kip, I’ve never been so scared. Are you all right? Really?”

He nods. “You?”

I nod.
No, not really. Not at all
. I quickly wipe at my watery eyes and my runny nose. I look at Morris, pale and shaken, blood on his cheek. He nods, breathing heavily, eyes on Kip.

Grierson, his hands on his hips, feet apart, is looking down at the three of us kneeling in the snow.

“Dave,” Morris says finally, “this must look pretty strange. But it was just an accident, like Kip said. Gave us a fright.”

“Morris, this looks strange even for you.”

You can tell that Grierson and Morris have crossed paths before. Grierson glances at the barn door and we all look over. Ethan’s standing inside, near the doorway, facing out. I’d forgotten all about him. He’s got the voice recorder in his hand. It’s gone silent and he’s just staring at it.

“Ethan, come out of there,” I say. He doesn’t seem to hear me. “Ethan?”

Grierson walks over to the barn and heads inside, passing Ethan. A minute later, he comes back out with Morris’s bag in his hand. He dumps it on the ground by our feet.

“I don’t want to know what you guys were up to. But you are on private property, and unless Hank Telford has given you permission, you’ve got no business being here. If I find you here again, you’ll be charged with trespassing. I mean it this time, Morris. Enough is enough.” The three of us, still down on the ground, are silent. “Now what are we going to do about that mystery rope-burn?” he adds.

I speak up, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We’ll go to my place and put something on it. We’ll take care of it.”

Kip gets to his feet, staggering slightly, and Morris and I stand up too. Morris turns to Grierson.

“Thanks for the warning, Dave. I can tell you, we won’t be back.”

“Ethan!” I yell. “We’ve got to go.” He looks up at me from just inside the barn. “Come on!” I yell again. “What are you, deaf?”

He drags his feet out of the barn and we head over to Morris’s car. Grierson stands by and watches us as we get in—Kip in the passenger seat, Ethan beside me in the back—then gives us a last look before getting into his own cruiser. He backs out onto 12th Line and waits for Morris to back out too. He follows us until we turn into my driveway, then pulls to the edge of the road in front of our house and stops. We see him talking on his cellphone. Then he takes off up the road.

With Ethan here, none of us can talk about what just happened. We sit in the driveway and wait in a tense silence, trying to recover before going inside.

Joyce appears at the living-room window, looking out at us, a phone to her ear. She slowly puts down the receiver.

W
e get out of the car and stand together in the middle of the driveway, psyching ourselves up to deal with Joyce’s wrath. Ethan stays off to the side, looking a little smug. He knows I’m the one who’s in trouble. I take a deep breath to try to calm down, then approach the front door, with Kip and Morris following close behind. Just as I reach for the doorknob, it turns and the door opens. Joyce is standing there.

“Well, well,” she says. “Sounds like you fellows have been up to no good in the Telford barn. Mr. Dyson, nice to finally meet you. Kip, nice to see you again.” She holds her hand out for both to shake and invites them inside. She seems strangely civil, but cool.

“Nice to finally meet you too, Mrs. Stewart. Please call me Morris.”

“And you can call me Joyce.”

She stands against the open door and we have to file past her into the hallway. She leans in toward Ethan as he passes and quietly and firmly tells him to go to his room. As he heads down the hall, she turns and takes a hard look at me and then Kip. We probably look
wrecked. Like we’ve been playing roller derby or something. Kip’s jacket is ripped under the arm. And I’m beginning to realize I’ve got a bit of a limp. Must have twisted my ankle.