The New Neighbor

-

– Quiller man whispered to himself, 'No, no, that's over, it's behind me and -' He lifted the microphone to his mouth. ' – and I command you to leave this place in the name of Jesus Christ!'

Two things happened at once: the creature vomited explosively, shooting a thick black substance on the windshield, and it shot backward off the hood of the pickup, shrieking. It landed in a clumsy heap on the pavement, several feet in front of the pickup.

“In the name of -' Quiller man began again, but the creature flapped its wings and rose from the ground, hovering for a moment as it stared straight into Quillerman’s eyes, then released a cry so full of hatred it made Quillerman briefly nauseated.

It was gone in seconds.

Quillerman couldn't move for a while. One hand clutched the steering wheel, the other clutched the microphone and all his knuckles were white and fingers were numb. Suddenly, as if a spell had been broken, his hands and arms relaxed and he looked out the window to his left. At first, he thought the reporter had gone, but then he saw the top of her head rising slowly. She had ducked down beside the pickup. Her eyes were wide, face pale, and she stared at him as if she didn't know where she was.

Quillerman got out of the pickup and asked, 'Are you all right, Miss?'

'What… the fuck… was that?' she asked, but there was more amazement in her voice than fear. Quillerman was quite amazed to see that she seemed about to burst into a grin.

Before Quillerman could reply, the cameraman staggered around the pickup and joined them. The woman grabbed his lapels and shook him, saying, 'Did you see that? I mean, did you see that? Did you get it? Oh, please, Will, tell me you got that on tape, tell me you got it!'

He stared at her a moment, then said in a barely level voice that rose as he spoke, 'I didn't get it on tape because I was too busy shitting my pants! Now do you believe me? Now can we leave?”

'You go right ahead if you want, Will, but if you put a hook in my tongue you couldn't drag me away from this story. Just leave your camera.'

'I think he's right,' Quillerman said. 'You'd better go. It wouldn't be a good idea to stay here any -'

Something caught his eye and he looked up the street.

Flashlight beams were cutting through the darkness on both sides of the street.

People were coming out of their houses and walking slowly toward the pickup. First, a man and woman. Then a child. Two teenagers with a woman. And there were others. Their steps were uneven and some were limping, but they were coming. Quillerman whispered, 'Good. Good.' He stepped around the reporter and went to meet them.

* * * *

Jen gripped George's arm and said, 'Daddy, what's happened to Mom? Why won't you tell me?'

He'd been watching out the window silently, unable to respond to Jen's questions about Karen. What could he tell her? That Mom had decided she preferred to be with the new neighbor?

'She's over at Lorelle's,' Robby finally said.

Jen stared at him in silent horror, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered. 'We have to get her. Did you hear me? We have to get her, Daddy!'

George put his arm around her and said, 'We're going to try, honey.' To Robby: 'I'm going outside to talk with Pastor Quillerman.'

'I'll come with you,' Robby said.

Jen said 'Me, too.'

George looked from Robby to Jen and was about to protest and tell them to stay in the house. But he saw their determination and said nothing. They followed him out.

As they headed down the front walk, they saw the others nearing Quillerman from both directions, coming out of the darkness in small groups, some with flashlights, a couple carrying kerosene lanterns with golden light that flickered over shadowy faces.

'Hello, George,' Pastor Quillerman said quietly as George approached.

'What's going on?' George asked.

'My prayers have been answered. They're coming to talk. I think we might make some progress now.'

Footsteps scritched to a halt on the pavement as people gathered around the pickup. Flashlight beams crisscrossed in the darkness and the people behind them were reduced to murky, faceless shadows.

George squinted against the lights and searched for a familiar face or figure, but could not make out enough details in the dark to recognize anyone.

'My husband is gone,' a woman said in a voice soggy with tears.

'Our daughter is missing,' a man said.

A woman beside him added, 'One minute she was in the house and the next she was gone.'

A man stammered, 'I truh-tried to… to suh-strangle my w-wife today and… and I -' His words dissolved into sobs.

'It's all right, honey,' a woman whispered reassuringly, 'that's over now.'

Others spoke up and their words overlapped:

'I can't find my wife.'

'What has that woman done to us?'

'We had a fight with our son today and I-I… hit him… for the first time ever, and now he's disappeared.' 'We're coming apart, our whole family is just coming apart.'

'My husband said he'd kill me if I came out here. I had to sneak out of the house.'

Pastor Quillerman raised his arms to quiet them down. 'I know what you're going through,' he said. 'I understand your fear and your feelings of guilt. I realize those of you with loved ones missing are especially upset right now. But please listen to me for just a few minutes.'

George listened as Quillerman told them the truth about Lorelle Dupree. He told them everything that Robby had told George that morning, all the things that George wouldn't listen to then. They listened silently as Quillerman spoke in his best pulpit voice. Then:

'Thanks to young Robby here, we think she’s trapped in her own house right now.” He stepped over to Robby's side and put an arm around his shoulders. 'Unfortunately, some of your family members are in there with her. They are there of their own free will, just as many of you gave in to her of your own free will. But you might be able to change that. With words of encouragement to your sons and daughters and spouses, you might be able to draw them out of her house. If we all resist her, reject her, there will be nothing to keep her here. She will have no choice but to go.”

“Why can't we kill the bitch?' Mr. LaBianco asked.

Quillerman hesitated. “To be honest, I don’t know how to kill her.”

“She seduced my husband!' a woman shouted. 'In just a few days, that bitch destroyed my marriage!'

'Please!' Quillerman said, raising his arms again. 'I know you're angry and you have every reason to be, but you must let go of that anger. It will only weaken you. It demeans you, and that is precisely what she wants. She feeds on it. It’s important to let go of that anger and hatred. We’re all human, we are weak. We must pray to god for – “

”I don't pray,' a man said coldly.

'Yes, I understand that some of you may not have any religious beliefs. Perhaps many of you. But you can still let go of the anger and hatred you feel toward her. You can – “

”I'm not so sure I believe what you say about her,' another man said.

Quillerman turned to George in desperation.

George's mouth opened and closed as he searched frantically for something to say.

'Some of you probably know George Pritchard, here,' Quillerman said. 'He has been going through many of the