Cleaving Souls, Page 2

  “Sure,” she said, stepping out of his way as Alex walked down the hall and into the empty room. It had once been her office, a little space for her to grade or make lesson plans for the class of sixth graders she taught. But, with the baby coming, she'd abandoned plans of teaching for a while, and the spare-room-turned-office would now become the baby's room, complete with soft-yellow walls once the painting was all finished.

  A faded, daisy-pattern wallpaper clung in patches to most of the wall. They'd always planned on getting rid of it, but it just hadn't seemed that pressing until now. Unfortunately, they'd discovered that the strangers who'd put the wallpaper up some twenty years ago had been rather free with the glue, and trying to rip it down had already consumed most of the day, with the slow and small progress more discouraging than anything else.

  “Okay,” Alex said as he ripped open the Paper Tiger's packaging. “This is exciting.”

  “Thrilling,” Kat said flatly.

  Alex freed the Paper Tiger, smiled with sarcastic energy at Kat, then rubbed the tool over the wallpaper, scoring it with hundreds of small holes. “Can you hand me the spray bottle?” he said, reaching a hand towards Kat. A few seconds later the bottle slapped into his palm and he raised it up to the perforated wallpaper and began to spray. After a half-dozen squirts he stepped back and let the bottle fall to his side.

  “Do you want to do something fun tonight?” he asked.

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know. Anything that doesn't involve wallpaper?”

  “Sure. Let me know when you come up with something.”

  He sighed. That was a big part of the problem. “How are you feeling? Could we drive for a while?”

  Kat stood silently, her eyes on the soaking wallpaper, her mind on herself, evaluating. “I don't know,” she said. “I'll feel okay, and then after a few minutes in the car I just wanna die. But it has been a while....” She reached up and poked the wallpaper, then said, “Sure. We can try it. I'll just bring some Dramamine. But I'm more than ready to get out of Peascombe for an evening.”

  “Okay,” Alex said, “then I'll think of somewhere we can go.” He reached up and pinched a corner of the wallpaper. It felt slick between his fingers, soaked through and ready to tear. But maybe....

  He pulled, and a great sheet of it came free of the wall, sliding effortlessly off to fall limp and soggy on the floor.

  “Oh good,” Kat said. “I hope it'll be that easy everywhere else.”

  “Yeah....” Alex said, distracted. He leaned towards the wall with his eyes narrowed, examining a latticework of black and brown connected dots.

  “What is it?”

  “Mold.”

  “Mold? Is it dangerous?”

  “I don't know. Some kinds are.” He started scoring the next section of wallpaper. “We'll have to look it up.”

  “Alex, what if it's bad for the baby? You don't think it could hurt the baby during the pregnancy, do you?” She edged away from the wall as she spoke, as if the mold might leap out and attack her.

  “I'm not sure. We'll use a primer that kills mold though, okay?”

  “What if there's more of it around the house? You don't think it could make me miscarry, do you?”

  “No,” Alex said, running the Paper Tiger in wide circles, “I don't.”

  “Sometimes, I really don't like this house. I'm going to go look up whether the mold is going to kill all of us,” she said as she left the room.

  Sighing, Alex set down the Paper Tiger and picked up the squirt bottle. He wasn't surprised that there was mold, and he shouldn't have been surprised by his wife's reaction to it. Mix a first pregnancy with a family history of miscarriages and everything becomes the boogeyman.

  No doubt what she found online would have them searching for mold high and low. He shrugged to himself, accepting what would be, then raised the squirt bottle and got back to work watering the faded daisies.

  3

  Alex had narrowed it down to either bowling or the arcade, and Kat had chosen the arcade. It turned out to be an excellent choice. Alex got his bowling itch scratched well enough by playing a few games of skee-ball, and then had gotten his butt kicked in the motorcycle racing game where you got to squat down over the small, plastic, bullet bikes. Kat hadn't relished how sticky the handlebars were, but she forgot her disgust once the racing flags went up. Then they poured a few dollars into one of the splatter-gore shoot-em-ups with zombie aliens or some other rubbish. Alex gave Kat his skee-ball winnings, and she passed the tickets to a grateful little boy with leftover ice cream circling his mouth. Then they just walked down Main Street and intermingled window shopping with people-watching.

  All in all, it had been a good time. Kat hadn't even needed the Dramamine after all.

  Now Alex lay asleep beside her, the bed sheets thrown most of the way off of him. He always slept hot, often waking with his hair as sweaty as if he'd just gone on a jog. Now that Kat was pregnant, their bed seemed more like a furnace to her than ever before. Warm and uncomfortable as she was, Kat still kept the sheets tucked tightly beneath her chin, unable to sleep because of the heat, yet unable to sleep without the blankets there to cover her. She just felt too exposed otherwise.

  In the corner of the room, an upright fan swiveled back and forth, swirling thick and humid air around the small bedroom. The AC worked—or, at least, Alex swore up and down that it did. Somehow, it never seemed to run well enough to keep them cool at night.

  Kat rolled over, moving farther away from her sleeping husband, then fluffed her pillow and lay back down, trying to find sleep in its feathery depths. Sometimes she envied Alex's ability to fall off to sleep so quickly. It had never been her forte.

  The pivoting fan looked left, then right, then left again, sounding almost like Alex's deep breathing beside her. Outside, faint beneath the other sounds, she heard a small dog barking. Then the sound of footsteps.

  Coming from the front room.

  Kat's mind shot from lethargic to red-alert in an instant, and she froze as still as an ice-statue, suddenly cold with fright, listening. The sound of the footsteps had disappeared. Or, perhaps, had never been there at all.

  She rolled her head to the side and looked through the open doorway and down the hall to the black front room beyond, and saw nothing. She kept staring into the eerie black for half a minute, waiting for her pulse to drop once more.

  When she'd finally convinced herself that it had only been her imagination, she scooted back across the bed towards Alex, pressing her back against his side, still staring down the hall.

  Just when her heart rate had begun cautiously descending and she'd considered closing her eyes once more, she heard the distinct sound of a floorboard creak in the front room.

  “Alex,” she whispered.

  He rolled in his sleep, moving farther away from her.

  Another floorboard creaked, this time in the hallway.

  She knew there was a pistol in here, but it was in Alex's nightstand, not hers. She elbowed him and hissed, “Alex.”

  Again, a floorboard in the hallway squeaked loudly, this time closer to their room.

  Now she didn't think she could whisper, the fear was so real and paralyzing. Her dream hadn't been a dream—she knew that now—it had been real, and whoever had come into their home had returned. Panic swelled thickly into her throat. She tried to whisper her husband's name again, but it was as if a scab of terror had dried around her larynx.

  Another floorboard groaned just beyond her sight, and the scab of fear became so taut that it ripped open, and Kat forced herself to speak into the night—to project her voice against the darkness, to throw it through the palpable obscurity and into the ears of whoever was creeping through the hall.

  “Alex, get the gun!”

  In a flail of arms and kicking legs, Alex went from deep asleep to something near awake. As he scrambled for the handgun, Kat forced herself to move closer to him, still staring down the hall.

  Li
ght suddenly spilled across the room as Alex clicked on the lamp. A second later, he twisted over beside her, where he sat with the pistol in his hands.

  Kat had never stopped looking down the hall. The lamp light reached far down it and into the front room, yet there was nothing to be seen.

  “What is it?” Alex said, now fully awake.

  “I heard footsteps, in the hall.”

  Alex blinked heavily and followed her gaze down the hallway, where there was nothing to be seen but old shag carpet.

  “I heard footsteps, and the floor creaking. I heard it just a second ago,” she insisted.

  “Did you—”

  “Shhh!” Kat hissed, cutting him off. Another sound was in the house, besides his unfinished question. The floorboard creaked in the hall once more. Then the creaking sound slid towards them through the wall and sagged its way behind them. Kat stared around, wide eyed. Alex looked around the room as well, but without the same panicked look.

  “It's just the house settling,” he concluded.

  “No, I heard footsteps,” she said.

  He reached back for the nightstand, pulling its drawer open and setting the pistol inside. “It's settling in a creepy way, Honey, but it's just settling. It's an old house. Old houses do that.”

  “Alex, I heard footsteps.”

  He had been a moment away from switching off the lamp, but he stopped. After a second, he said, “Do you want me to search the house?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “Okay,” he sighed, turning to give her a tired smile. “But I'm telling you, it's just the house settling.” Then he slid out of bed.

  “The gun?” Kat said when he didn't take it with him.

  “Don't need it,” he called back as he walked out of the room. He flicked on the hall light as he left, then turned on each light in turn as he checked the bathroom, nursery, front room, and kitchen. Then he returned, switching lights off as he went and rubbing his palm in his left eye.

  “Just the house setting,” he said as he climbed back into bed.

  Kat scooted closer to him. “I'm sorry. It sounded so much like footsteps. I really thought....” She let her voice trail off as she wondered whether or not she had been wrong. She had felt so certain.

  “S'okay,” Alex mumbled as he sank back down into his pillow. He barely managed to turn off the lamp on his nightstand before he had fallen back asleep.

  Forget the heat, Kat decided. She curled up next to Alex and closed her eyes, trying to will sleep to come upon her. A few minutes later, she heard the house resume its settling, almost, Kat thought, as if it had been unwilling to do so until it thought they were back asleep.

  4

  The warm mid-morning breeze pushed through the windows and fluttered the curtains out into the room, allowing some sunlight to slip in and breathe hotly on Kat's shoulder. She sat on the couch beneath the window, a few extra pillows on either side of her, her feet up on the armchair, and a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting in her hands. Normally, the book fascinated her, often explaining perfectly how she felt, and then telling her why. Today, she had picked it up hoping it would relax her a bit. She hadn't slept well—not with all the settling the house had done—and now her neck and shoulders ached. Unfortunately, the book served as a poor distraction from her discomfort.

  Alex walked into the room and sneezed. “Eh. Those mold spores...” he said, wiping at his eyes. “I think uncovering them has really...let them...” he sneezed again, “go crazy.”

  “Is it ready to paint?” Kat said, setting her book down.

  “Yeah. Well, almost. Just a bit more masking to do.” He walked into the kitchen and out of sight. A moment later, the sink turned on.

  “I think I should go outside once you start painting,” Kat said. “I don't think that the breeze will clear out the fumes well enough. Are you sure it will dry enough for us to sleep here?”

  Alex reappeared with a glass of water in his hand. “Yeah, I think so. I don't have to do both coats today, if you want. I could just do one.”

  “You think two will take too long to dry?”

  He shrugged. “We could go to a hotel or something if you want to.”

  “I thought we were trying to save some money.”

  “We are.” Alex took a drink, then said, “The place here in Peascombe is pretty cheap.”

  Kat quickly shook her head. “Absolutely not. That place looks like the one in Psycho.”

  “The Bates Motel?” He paused, then chuckled. “Yeah, it kinda does.”

  “Besides, if we were going to spend money on a room, I'd want it to be one out of Peascombe.”

  “Sure,” Alex said. “Why not?”

  “What?”

  “Why not go somewhere? I'll finish up painting, and we'll be out of here by three or four.”

  “Don't tempt me, Alex. We're trying to save money, though. Seriously.”

  Alex looked down into the glass of water for a moment, then let out a long breath of disappointment. “Okay. I'd probably better just do one coat then, so it'll be sure to dry.” He went back into the kitchen and thumped the glass onto the counter, then said, “Do you know where the box fan is?”

  Kat had picked her book back up and was flipping idly through it, looking at the black-and-white illustrations of growing fetuses. “It's in the hall closet.”

  “Thanks.” Alex walked back into the room and noticed what she was reading. “Looking for more symptoms?”

  Kat gave him a look. “You know that isn't how it works, right? I really do feel these things before I read about them. It just helps me to explain what I’m feeling to you.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Alex said, stepping into the hall and pulling the closet door open. “But sometimes it seems like you're fine, and then you read that you're supposed to be nauseated in the mornings, and the next day it's ‘Oh!’” He threw his voice into a mocking falsetto. “‘Alex, I can't do anything but watch gardening shows.’”

  “Well, maybe you can be pregnant next time.”

  “Maybe,” he said, yanking the fan out from under a stack of blankets. The folded blankets toppled to the floor, unfolding as they went. Alex picked them up and shoved them back into the closet, then closed the door and went into the nursery.

  Kat vaguely heard the sound of masking tape being drawn, torn, and placed as she continued perusing her book, unwilling now to exert herself towards actual reading. After a few minutes, Alex’s phone rang.

  “This is Alex.”

  Kat set the book aside. Suddenly, her own phone’s message chime sounded. She reached to where it sat on the far end of the couch, and illuminated the screen.

  2;F54JL L34

  She read the gibberish through once, then tried to decode it as one might a license plate. Just before she checked the number, her phone screen went black. She tried to flick it on again, but it was no use. Her phone had turned off.

  She puffed her frustration through her nose, then turned her phone on and set it back down while it booted up. In the hallway, Alex was just finishing his phone call.

  “Okay. Sure. I’ll check it.... Right.... Right.... No problem. Bye.” He pulled the phone from his ear and pocketed it, then looked at Kat.

  “One of the drivers had to cancel, and I’m up to cover.”

  “They need you back in? I thought that this was going to be your break.”

  “So did I,” he said, leaning against the doorway, “but I guess that has to be pushed back until after this delivery.”

  “When do they need you in?” she said, unable to mask her disappointment.

  “Tomorrow morning. Should take three days. Hank’s sending the email with the full details.”

  He watched her, still leaning heavily against the door frame, then turned away when she didn’t respond. “Guess I’d better get this coat up. Maybe we should do our shopping afterwards? Let it dry for a while.”

  “Sure,” Kat said. “Can you leave Geegee?”

  “Of course,�
�� Alex said, pulling off the next length of tape. He sneezed, then fixed it in place around the doorway. Kat didn’t bless him for the sneeze. She had already reopened What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and had lost herself in distracted worries.

  5

  The phone chimed again, but this time it woke Alex.

  “What’s that?” he groaned, rolling partway over.

  “The fourth notification in a row.”

  “From what?”

  “My phone,” Kat said.

  “No, I mean what are the notifications for?”

  “I haven’t looked yet,” she admitted.

  “They’d better be pretty important to be coming in at.... What time is it?”

  “It’s five forty.”

  Alex groaned again. “Why does it feel so early?” He rubbed at his eyes, then said, “I’d probably better be getting up anyways. Are you gonna keep sleeping?”

  “No,” Kat said, “I’ll get up. Geegee was barking anyways, so I was already awake. I think she wants to be let inside at night.”

  Alex picked up a bathrobe and put it over his shoulders. “Well, I’m not the one that made a rule against that.”

  Kat watched him walk down the hall, but said nothing. Then she finally reached over and checked her phone. She expected to see notifications from old social media posts or something. Instead, she saw four new text messages.

  9eR2QO8

  KeR W8Ss

  .ir ao9j

  glkja vu5s9efjSO.s

  She screwed her face up as she looked at the texts, then unplugged her phone and followed after Alex down the hallway, carrying the cellphone with her.

  “I think my phone is going crazy,” she said as she rounded the corner towards the kitchen.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I think it’s scrambling my text messages or something.”

  “Huh,” Alex said. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a half-empty egg carton. “I’m making eggs. Want any?”

  She shook her head. “Really, though. It did this yesterday, too. I get texts, but they’re just scrambled nonsense.”