“But…okay. Bye, Mom. See you this afternoon.”
And so went the remainder of the week.
Until Friday night.
6
“Okay, kids. Bedtime. Kiss your Daddy good night and come with me.”
It was Friday evening. Catherine stood in the doorway between the front entry and the family room. The rest of the family was scattered in ones and two around the room, reading, playing, or-in Willard’s case-intently watching the evening news.
His attention barely broke as each of the children leaned over his chair and kissed him on the cheek.
“’Night,” he repeated four times.
One by one the children clustered in front of Catherine. She led them down the hall and into the back bedroom, where she hunched on the edge of the lower bunks and they dropped to the floor, squatting or half- laying.
“You all know what tomorrow is.”
“Saturday,” Burt responded before the others could say anything. Burt and Suze nodded gravely, their expression matching Catherine’s. Sams just sat on the floor, cuddling his blanket in his arms and watching his mother.
“That’s right. Saturday. Daddy’s day to sleep in.”
She paused, and they all nodded again.
“Daddy’s really, really tired right now. You’ve all had really rough nights this week, and he hasn’t gotten very much sleep. And you know he has to get up very, very early, even before the sun comes up, to get to work on time.”
Again, they nodded.
“So tomorrow, I want you to remember to be very, very quiet when you get up. Let’s let Daddy sleep as long as he can. All right?”
Nods around.
“When you wake up, I want you to play quietly in here until I have breakfast ready. Then we will all go very quietly into the kitchen and eat, and then you may watch T.V. in the family room.”
“Can we all sleep in here?” Suze actually raised her hand before speaking, as if she were in school, and spoke in a soft, modulated, answering-the-teacher voice.
Catherine considered for a moment. She wanted for Suze to be as independent as possible, to grow up self- sufficient, so even though the three boys were now crowded into this one room, Suze had always had her own. But this was an unusual night.
“Okay. But you will all have to be quiet.”
“Can I sleep on the bunk with Burt?” Suze again. Sometimes during the day, she and Burt-and occasionally Sams-would play on Burt’s bed, tucking his blanket under the edge of the mattress on Will’s bed and letting the rest of it hang down, making a kind of tent. At times they would play with Suze’s dolls, at other times with Burt’s small plastic army guys, using the rumpled bedding as hills and valleys and marching the toys across one by one. Sams usually just sat in one corner watching them, giggling along with them at some unspoken joke. Will rarely joined the fun, considering it too ‘baby’ for a twelve-year-old.
Catherine had never let them do it at night.
But tonight.
“All right. But you have to be very quiet. You can’t shoot off cannons or anything like that. And no giggling and staying up until the middle of the night.”
Nods again.
“Can I leave the night light on and read?” For Will, that would count as a special occasion.
“Yes.”
“I promise I won’t turn the pages too loud,” he added, a quick grin crossing his face.
Catherine laughed lightly.
“See that you don’t, buster-boy, or I’ll have to come in and confiscate your book.” She grinned back.
“Con-fi-scate,” Suze said carefully, as if tasting each sound as it crossed her lips. “That’s a funny word.”
Everyone laughed…quietly. They were already practicing for tomorrow morning.
“Okay, guys, get ready for bed. Here, give me kisses.”
She waited until all four of the kids were settled-making sure that Sams’ night-time diaper was still clean and dry-then stepped into the hall and shut the door until only a crack of light showed from the Mickey Mouse lamp. Already she heard the rustling of bedding being arranged into a bunk-bed-tent.
Someone on the other side of the door laughed again…quietly.
She went on down the hall to join Willard in the family room.
The Slab- A Novel of Horror (retail) (epub)
Michael R Collings
7
That Friday, no one woke up in the middle of the night.
8
“Daddy! Mommy!”
Two young male trebles, high-pitched and full of terror.
A single, drawn-out shriek from a small girl.
“Yaaaap!” That was Sams’s voice, breaking into tears.
Catherine sat bolt upright in bed.
Daylight struck her eyes. As she always did now, she reflexively glanced to the far corner of the room, where the patching plaster had been inexorably drawing away from the popcorn-textured ceiling. It was a dry year. The soil was compacting. She caught a glimpse of sunlight through the small slit that had formed.
Then she was on her feet and grabbing for her robe.
Willard threw himself onto his side, facing the far wall, and grunted angrily, “Damn those kids…” Then he, too was on his feet and racing around the end of the bed. He was out the door before Catherine. She heard his bare feet slapping against the hall floor.
A door opened, slamming against the wall.
A beat.
“Catherine! Get in here!”
She ran down the hall.
What now?
When she shot through the open doorway, Willard was standing by the low table beneath the window. All four kids were huddled together by the closet, tears either streaking their cheeks or still streaming from their eyes. None of them was speaking, although Sams-pressed against Will, Jr., whose hand curled protectively around his little brother’s shoulder-was whimpering softly.
“Look!” Willard stabbed one finger toward the table top.
Toward the cage where, now solitary, the single remaining hamster lay crushed against the side. The wire door hung open along the front. A few cedar chips lay strewn on the table top, looking in their roughly rectangular
