The Lake

The hag clung to Deana’s arm. Deana held Harry tight, rolled in his blanket. Leaning into the wind, they made it up the hill a little way. The hag drew to a halt outside a fancy iron double gate.

Deana stared through the railings.

The driveway was pitch dark.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Could be anything down there…

Mommy Dearest lifted the latch, the gate creaked open, and Deana helped her inside. The hag kicked the gate shut with a resounding clash.

Deana did a double take.

That sure was some kick! Mommy Dearest musta perked up a little.

Still clutching Deana’s arm, the hag limped her way down the drive. Deana held on to Harry. He was jerking around in his blanket, making loud, snuffling noises.

Her heart hammered. Blood pounded in her ears.

Hope to God he doesn’t die on me, ’cause I really gotta go—don’t wanna miss Warren…

They halted outside a huge front door. Dry, straggly growth matted around the two columns either side.

“Jeez,” Deana breathed. “What a place!”

The house was tall, dark, and deathly quiet. It looked like something out of a horror movie. She pictured Lurch, from The Addams Family, opening up the door… and Gomez hovering in the spooky hallway, grinning around his cigar, rubbing his hands together.

She squinted at a faded wood sign above the door.

She could just make out the words: “The Flora Dawes Rest Home for Distressed Gentlefolk.”

Deana grimaced.

This is so spooky.

Time I was gone.

Her heart beat faster.

Gotta catch up with Warren, before it’s too late.

Desperately, she wished he and Sabre were with her now.

At her side, Mommy Dearest let out a gasp. She was clutching her chest.

Deana’s heart sank.

“Maybe I should just see you inside,” she said quickly. “Then hurry on home. Promised Mom I’d be back by ten-thirty…”

With a loud groan, the door swung open. Mommy’s hand gripped Deana’s arm. She dragged her forward into the shadowy hallway.

Gray light sliced the gloom. Darkness fell as the door clanged shut. The noise echoed eerily through the house, and Deana’s heart stood still. Panic set in. A closed, musty smell met her nostrils. She’d smelled something like it in a thrift store in Sausalito—a mix of old clothes, cooking, bodies, musty books, and other junk.

As she became accustomed to the gloom, Deana saw dozens of bright eyes staring at her. It seemed like an army of dwarfs had gathered in the lobby to greet them. The dwarfs were curious. Impatient, craning their necks to get a better view.

Jesus H. Christ!

She held on to Harry and stared closer.

These aren’t dwarfs… they’re little old women!

Like one of the living dead, a wizened hag stepped forward. She reached out a scrawny, blue-veined hand…

Deana reeled back. Into the arms of Mommy Dearest.

No sign of “one of her derned attacks” now…

Like bands of steel, Mommy’s arms grabbed her.

Harry yelped, leapt out of his blanket, and scooted into the shadows.

Struggling, panicking, Deana twisted around, trying to free herself. The hag held on tight.

“No you don’t!” Her voice was high and strong.

It had an insane ring to it.

The hairs on the back of Deana’s neck crawled.

Goose bumps rose on her body.

My God, the woman’s a fucking lunatic. She’s raving mad!

Christ! How did I get into all this? I shoulda left her to die out there… Hell, I do one good turn and look where it gets me!

A horrible thought crossed her mind.

Nobody knows I’m here.

I’m trapped with all these… loonies!

“Say something, girl!” demanded a witch with an eye patch and long white hair. Deana backed away.

Mommy Dearest shoved her forward.

“Best I could do,” she told the hags. “Not too many young ’uns out on Del Mar t’night!”

“What d’ya think of Mr. President?” called out a shaky voice from the back. “Ya reckon he’s onto them delinquents throwing bombs inta classrooms yet?”

A raucous voice shouted: “Whassyername, honey?”

“Aw, give it a rest, Clarabel,” somebody said. “Can’t ya see the kid’s scared? Reckon we oughta bring her inter the back, give her a cuppa coffee ’n’ a slice of pie…”

A low mumbling filled the hallway, punctuated by hissy, whispering sounds. A shriek of laughter rang out.

The hags looked at Deana, waiting for her to speak. They were like gaunt gray vultures. Restless. Needy. Hungry, like they hadn’t seen young flesh in a long time.

Deana froze at the thought.

They came for me in a pack. I guess they could tear me to pieces.

Oh my God!

Her eyes narrowed. She gritted her teeth.

Just let them try!

The hags shifted forward.

The white-haired one taunted her.

“Don’t ya like it here, dearie? Ain’t fixin’ to leave us, are ya?”

Deana saw red. She screamed, “Bank on it, you fuckin’ old witch. I’m outa here…”

She whirled around, but Mommy Dearest grabbed her arm. “Mind ya manners, young’un,” she snarled, “Pay more respect to ya elders!”

Deana shook herself free. She glared at the hag.

What’s the bitch got against me? I did my Girl Scout thing. Helped her when she was in trouble.

I coulda left her there to die.

Wish I had now…

Boy, does this place suck…

If the bastard’s brought me here to entertain her gang of trolls, she’s gonna be mighty disappointed. Show’s over, folks. I’m outa here before I get eaten alive!

A scrawny hag in a long, cotton frock limped forward. Stretching out a knobby finger, she touched Deana’s arm. “Don’t go, dearie,” she said. “Talk to us. We won’t hurt ya none. Promise. We jest wanna see some young blood, is all. Haven’t set eyes on a youngster like you in a long, long time… Tell me… seen any good movies lately?”

The old woman’s eyes held a pleading look. She smiled, her face creasing into a network of wrinkles.

Deana gasped.