A phantom something seemed to be floating chest-high in the dimness of the hallway. Green glowing eyes, green glowing teeth, splotches of red glowing like baleful, fevered eruptions on dead skin. Everything else black, dead black. Black so deep it seemed to swallow what little light there was.
“Dad?” Clark sounded worried…and terrified.
“What are you…?” Jack hit the switch beside the door and the den light flared, casting stark shadows everywhere but emitting enough light into the hall to illuminate the figure that stood before him.
It was a fifteen-year-old vampire, Dracula-cape and all, its hair blackened for the occasion and slicked back.
Clark in costume.
Clark must have figured out what was going on in his father’s mind. “It’s my costume,” he said hurriedly. He backed a step toward the wall behind him. “For the Halloween party at school day after tomorrow. Mom was finishing it for me when the doorbell…”
Jack swept past his son, unaware of brushing the boy’s shoulder hard enough to force Clark further back into the wall. Clark groaned, but only a bit and mostly under his breath. He knew better.
Jack nearly ran down the hall. Now that the shock of seeing that damned costume was receding, excitement flooding through him in its place.
Slick was here. It had to be good news.
Five minutes later, the two of them were seated comfortably in the armchairs in Jack’s den. The overhead lights were on, as were the desk lamp on the top of the liquor cabinet and another on the small table he used as a make-shift desk. The room was harsh, stark, uncompromising in its brightness. Right now, Jack needed it that way.
“Yeah, this time the deal’s going through. No problemo,” Slick said, chuckling softly. “I gave them a sob story about how you had bid on a custom-built place in Newton Park and if you didn’t close on this house soon, you would lose it. They’re first-time buyers, excited by the prospect, eager, and above all gullible.”
“But you’re sure.”
“Positive. I took them through last weekend while you were in Palm Springs, and they burbled all the way about how perfect it was, what they were going to do with this room, who was going to sleep in that room. You could see her running up curtains in her mind and planning on ordering throw pillows to match the color of the living room walls.”
“They didn’t notice anything?”
“Nah. Oh, they tried to look nonchalant, even slightly disinterested, but you can’t kid a kidder. They’re hooked and they didn’t bother to check out anything too closely.”
“What happens if they find out about, you know, the real problems.”
Maxwell leaned over and slapped his old roommate’s knee. “Come on, Jack, have some faith in me. I’ve handled enough of these places, here and in Sunset Hills, to know how to protect myself…and, of course, you as well.
“I recommended an ‘outside inspector’ when they first got interested, even said I’d pay his fee. They took me up on the deal. Fred’s a good friend…and a good silent partner, emphasis on ‘silent.’” He chuckled. “He knows exactly how to word the reports. After all these years, and all the lawsuits, he’s a past master at saying things without actually saying them at all. Don’t worry about that.”
Jack relaxed into his chair. He grabbed another beer out of the fridge next to the chair, then grabbed a second and tossed it to Chuck Maxwell.
It wasn’t for nothing that his old friend had earned his nickname as far back as college.
“Slick,” indeed!
The two men clicked rims of their beers in a toast and laughed together.
From the Tamarind Valley Times, 25 April 2009:
LA COUNTY RUNS DRILL FOR “THE BIG ONE”
LA officials reported today that the recent county-wide earthquake-preparation drill was largely successful in increasing residents’ awareness of the importance of being ready should “the Big One” strike.
Volunteers at stations across the county arrived at “emergency centers,” to be made-up as victims of a major earthquake, such as could occur in Southern California at any time.
Scientists have warned for…
The Slab- A Novel of Horror (retail) (epub)
Michael R Collings
Chapter Eleven
The Huntleys, March-July, 2010
The Frog and the Cauldron
1
It was like the old winter’s-tale of the frog and the cauldron.
If one were to place a living frog in a cauldron of boiling water, it would reflexively jump out, thus saving itself.
If, however, one were to place the same frog in a cauldron of cool water, then gradually increase the temperature, degree by degree, the frog would remain content to paddle in small circles until, without ever realizing what was happening, it died.
Boiled to death.
Gradually. Gradually.
Thus it was with the Huntleys. Gradually. Gradually.
And they would regret to their dying days that they did not truly notice it coming.
2
The remaining weeks of March were frustrating and difficult for the entire family. Willard finally calmed down enough to realize that, while long-term solutions might seem-indeed might be — impossible given the family’s financial situation, there were some immediate, short term responses he could take.
First order of business, he had to dry the back bedroom floor completely. As soon as Sai left that afternoon, he hustled around the neighborhood and borrowed five high-powered box fans. It was lucky that the weather remained so warm, because he could open the window, set three fans up in the room and the hall to keep the air moving. Slowly, the dark sludge-like stain dissipated, although even after three or four days, the concrete was still several shades darker there than on the far side of the crack.
The fans helped a bit with the odor as well. Even though it never disappeared completely, it faded-gradually- until Willard had to focus his attention to detect it. Curiously, he thought several times, there was still no distinctly sewer-like smell. What he could smell seemed odd. He never could quite place it.
The carpet and padding were drying out fairly well in the nearly stifling garage, so it took only a day or two more with the remaining two fans to complete the job. The padding seemed fine, but there was still that unpleasant stiffness to the carpet nap. A couple of rounds with the vacuum should take care of that though.
Catherine was Catherine. Pretty much impossible to faze-except for roaches and such-like vermin. She was the primary stabilizing force in the family, even after Willard returned almost to normal. The only real difference in her actions during this interim was to grow gradually more protective about the children, watching them closely when they were in the house or playing in the yard, checking on them more frequently than usual after they went to
