Dream Boy (16 page)

They
stay perfectly still and take deep breaths.

“Why
did you do that?” Roy asks.

Nathan
blinks. The question strikes him as odd. “I think it looks better
there.”

“He's
fucking with us.” Burke stands with his fists clenched.

“I'm
not fucking with anybody.”

Roy
laughs and then Randy follows his lead. His body tense, Burke glares at Nathan.

“Let's
go.” Roy leads them out of the room.

The
rest of the rooms they visit are bare, and they find no other evidence of
occupation, neither ghostly nor otherwise; except, near the door of one room,
Nathan discovers a doll's foot made of thick porcelain and covered with dust.
He cleans it, white and pink, on the tail of his shirt. Nathan turns the foot
around and around in his hand. Then, without asking anybody, he replaces the
porcelain foot in the dust, in the same position as before, but clean and
shining.

They
find narrow stairways leading to the attic, these at the back of the house,
open to access; and they find service stairways leading down, also at the back
of the house; but the entrances are boarded off beyond a couple of steps. They
enter many rooms full of dirt and dust, spider webs and leaves, branches and
dead birds, bits of broken glass.

Nathan
still hears the music, the tiny sound like singing at the back of all the other
sounds, the creaking floors and the house settling, the wind through broken
windows. He can tell the others are listening like he is and he wonders, he is
suspicious that they are hearing other songs. Maybe they are even getting the
words too.

When
they have explored the upper level, they return to the grand central corridor,
the skylight and descending stairs. They have turned off the flashlight again
and are walking in the ambient light; the moon has risen higher, and the whole
space is bathed in milk.

Below
they can see the outlines of a large entry hall at the end of the long curved
stair. Vague outlines of doorways and rooms beyond are visible, as if they are
being invited. They descend without discussion. Nathan follows Roy, claiming
that place for himself. He knots Roy's tee shirt in his hand, as if for luck or
protection. They step carefully down the speaking stairs where the darkness
absorbs them gradually. Soon Nathan can see the outlines of the room, larger
than any he has ever entered, larger even than the sanctuary at church or the
auditorium at school. A layer of dirt and leaves carpets the floor, which
slants toward the pool of water. Water drips into the pool from above, a
periodic sound that echoes. “That floor is about gone,” Roy says.

But to
the left rises a tall, broad archway, the pale beams of the arch outlined in
moonlight. The room beyond is dark, but engulfs sound like a large space. It is
the sound of their footfalls, their breathing and coughing, that it swallows,
along with the dripping water. These sounds multiply as if a voice is coursing
through Nathan's head, a tiny singing, sometimes clear and sometimes too soft
to distinguish. They walk into the room.

Nathan's
immediate impression is that he knows the place, even though the shutters are
closed, even though the moonlight flickers feebly. The outlines of the room are
clear to him. The ceilings are high, a room of generous proportions. Four windows
open on one wall and three on another. A fireplace at one end has lost a good
deal of tile and brick, bits of which litter the floor beneath, along with
animal turds and dry leaves. There are branches, bits of china, fabric of an
indeterminate type, piled in one corner. Rags of draperies hang from a window,
singed as if burned; but there are no other signs of fire. The remains of
wallpaper peel away from the walls, and the wainscoting warps in a place where
the windowpane is missing; even the shutters cannot keep out a heavy rain. Some
of this he sees in splashes of the flashlight, but the rest is simply there. In
what he knows, without asking why.

Beyond
this room is another, not as large, and lined with bookshelves. The shelves are
bare save for a city of spiders that has settled on the shelving. Ivy has burst
through a window and creeps along the walls.

“What's
that smell?” Randy asks Roy.

“Sulfur.”

“How
do you know?” Burke demands.

“I
know what sulfur smells like.”

“The
Devil is supposed to smell like sulfur,” Nathan

says.

“Oh
that's really funny” Randy sounds more nervous than ever.

Scowling,
Burke tips his bottle one last time, almost hidden in the darkness; and this
time when he finishes, none is left.

“Where
do we go now?”

“Randy,
do you have to talk so much?”

“I
ain't talking to you, I'm talking to Roy. I just want to know”

But in
some way they all share Burke's feeling, that no one should speak. Light from
the broken window where ivy grows laces the floor. The ivy leaves are dark like
blood on the walk, a deeper shadow. The boys stand there. The room echoes.

They
move forward uneasily. Through another archway they step into a room so dark
they cannot see the vaguest outline. Either there are no windows or the
shutters are airtight. The air is motionless. Roy picks a path carefully, and
Nathan follows. Burke is behind him, breathing onto the back of his neck. Randy
is last and noisiest, breathing heavily.

They
are all increasingly aware of a want for quiet. As if something in the room, or
in the rooms beyond, is listening.

A
prickle up Nathan's spine. The distant singing has ceased.

It is
hard to say which is more complete, the silence or the darkness. They remain
motionless somewhere in space, in a room no contour of which is visible.

“Why
don't you use the flashlight?” Randy asks.

“Because
I don't want to,” Roy whispers, “keep quiet.”

Somewhere
in the heart of the house. They are close enough to one another that they share
warmth and the feeling of safety in numbers. The intuition that someone is listening
becomes palpable, and Nathan finally senses a direction, a particular place in
the darkness. Nathan touches Roy's arm and points.

They
can barely see each other. But Roy reads the touch as a message and they head
where Nathan points.

They
sense the approach of the wall and then, arms out, Roy touches the jamb of a
wide doorway.

Nathan
can feel the door frame, the space beyond, as black as the one they are
leaving.

Randy
lets out a deep breath, as good as a plea for the flashlight, but he dares not
ask.

The
sound of their breathing fills the room, and Nathan wonders whether the sound
of other breath might underlie their own. Someone could be standing in the
center of that spacious darkness, someone attentive and silent like them.
Listening.

Roy
edges forward. The others follow.

The air
is stale. Burke follows close behind Nathan. His body radiates heat.

Roy
freezes.

There
is a figure ahead. They can see the outline of a shadow, a broad shouldered man
standing perfectly still. Nathan cannot determine whether or not he has his
head.

The
figure is visible even in the darkness of the room, and they are very close to
it. Then it slowly raises its arms.

Someone
grips Nathan's shoulder, hard.

Roy
presses back against Nathan, raising the flashlight.

The
figure turns and flees. A silent gliding motion carries it toward further
darkness.

The
boys remain where they are, hardly breathing.

“Shit,”
Randy whispers. The single word echoes. They hold their breath. They stand
perfectly still, listening.

“Did
you see that?” Roy asks Nathan.

Nathan
whispers, “Yes,” since no one can see him nod his head.

“What
was it?”

“I
don't know.”

“That
thing didn't make any noise when it moved,” Randy says.

“Shut
up,” Burke says.

“The
fuck I will. It's still out there.”

“Shut
up.” Roy switches on the flashlight without warning. Splashing the
yellowish circle methodically, he reveals that they are in a large room with
the windows boarded from the inside. The room is as tall as two floors of the
house, and the beams of the ceiling cast looping shadows. Leaves and dirt
litter the floor. Bare of furnishings, pitch dark, the room shrinks the
flashlight beam. Nothing else. No figure of a man, nothing.

At last
Roy finds the door again and trains the flashlight on it.

Once
they reach it, he cleans cobwebs from the frame with a stick. Spiders are
moving along the strands of web. Roy turns off the flashlight, and they wait
for a moment while their eyes adjust to the dark.

Again,
the sense of someone listening is immediate. Nathan can almost find the direction
in the darkness, the place where the shadowed figure has returned out there in
the black expanse they have crossed. He searches, but his eyes are still
learning to read shadow, he sees nothing in the murk.

“He's
there.” Nathan's voice hardly carries at all.

“Where?
Do you see him?” Roy searches the darkness too.

No, he
sees only shadow within shadow. But the one who is listening is there. As if he
knows who they are. As if he has known they were coming, as if he was waiting
for a sign. No one moves. The silence has filled everything, every space in
them.

“Nathan's
full of shit,” Burke whispers, “there's nothing out there.”

“Be
quiet.”

“I
mean it,” shoving Nathan forward a little, into the dark space again,
“he's trying to scare us. The little sonofabitch. Use the
flashlight.”

“No.
We already used it.” Roy barely controls anger in his voice.

“Give
it to me then, if you're a coward.”

Roy and
Burke are suddenly squared against each other in the darkness, blowing, and
they lock together.

They
are fighting over the flashlight quicker than they could have chosen, it is as
if the moment has been waiting for them to find it. They strain back and forth,
shoving each other in concentrated silence, convulsive, sudden motions, testing
each other's strength. Burke strains to take the flashlight but Roy fiercely
grips it. They are grunting, swearing, but the sounds are plush and quiet.

Then,
suddenly, a resounding thump from the darkness beyond, followed by the sound of
footsteps running toward them. A thrill races up Nathan's spine. Burke tears
the flashlight free of Roy's hand. Randy makes a noise and runs, and Burke
releases Roy and runs, and then they are all running. Into the darkness.

Nathan
is hardly aware that Roy has taken his arm, that Roy is guiding him.

They
pass through a doorway, then down a passageway through which moonlight falls in
slatted patterns onto dusty floorboards. They are alone now, Roy and he, they
have lost the others. Roy stops and pulls Nathan to a halt as well. Breathless,
they face each other. He can make out Roy's grin in the shadow that is his
face. Roy is listening.

For a
moment they hear distant voices, maybe Burke and Randy. Afterward, silence
falls again.

“That
sure scared the shit out of me,” Roy whispers, panting. “Did you
really see something?”

Nathan
shrugs. Roy rests a hand on Nathan's shoulder, laughing quietly. He is still
listening, too.

“My
uncle told me he saw a ghost here one time. The one in the book. I didn't
believe him.”

“You
think that's what he saw?”

Roy
shrugs. “Who knows? But if it's a ghost, I bet it's that old man. If
somebody cut my head off, I would want it back.”

“I
think it's more ghosts than that.” “How do you know?”

“I
don't. But it feels like it. It feels like there's all kind of ghosts.”

This
makes Roy think again. “Are you trying to scare me now?”

“No.”
Nathan steps away from him. They are in a black room again, and no moonlight
seeps through any shuttered windows here. The room feels small. They withdraw
from the doorway to a farther wall, where they know each other by touch, by
voice. “But this place does feel like there's people in it. Don't you
think so?”

Roy is
frowning. “I don’t know.”

“Did
you ever come to a place and feel like you'd been there before?”

The
frown deepens. “No.” Silence. “Did you? Do you feel like you
been here before?”

“Not
quite.” Whispered so quietly Nathan can hardly hear the words himself.
“It's more like I'll never leave.”

Then a
sound, a footfall. Nearby.

Roy, by
his stillness, makes clear that he hears too. “What is it?”

“I
thought I heard somebody”

“It's
probably the guys.”

Then
comes the sound again. A step, another. Another.

Too
heavy for Randy or Burke. The sound approaches from the corridor beyond.

He
draws Roy into the deepest part of shadow. The doorway is a lighter outline of
gray against the strangling black of the wall.

Silence.
Nathan holds his breath.

A
figure in the door. A vaguer shadow. Someone stands there with his legs spread
apart. He is sturdy, square shouldered, like Nathan's Dad when he was younger,
like Preacher John Roberts. Like Roy. He is familiar. He makes no sound. He is
another blankness of the house, a ghost who could be anyone, living or dead.

The
moment broadens in some way, and divides. The sensation is explicit. There are
two of Nathan, moving in different directions, and time is no longer a line but
a knot, a maze, through which he must pick his way. The figure both remains in
the doorway and walks away from it, and Nathan follows in each direction. The
figure moves away, and Nathan follows, into the dark corridor, up the stairs,
through walls, through ceilings and roofs, upward into air, into heaven and
night sky.