Langley's Blues



  Langley’s Blues

  By Jamie Ott

  Copyright Jamie Ott 2012. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission.

  Black Crowe Publishers: an imprint of Passionate Prose Industries

  ISBN-13: 978-0615517129

  ISBN-10: 0615517129

  For all inquiries, please contact [email protected].

  Blanket of Chill

  Chapter 1

  Night was coming fast.

  The wind was a death-chill that no one person or thing could escape.

 

  Three kids huddled behind the Central Mall dumpster, shivering.

  Bruce had his arm wrapped around Tatia, whose teeth chattered loudly.

  Not more than a foot away, Jack sat on the cold, hard asphalt, hugging his legs.

  “If we don’t get somewhere, I’m gonna die,” said Tatia through clenched teeth.

  Jack stood up, resolute, and said, “Let’s go!”

  “Where?” asked Bruce, partly annoyed and partly curious. Half the time, his ideas got them into trouble, and the other half, got them what they needed.

  “I don’t know but sitting here on the ground isn’t a good idea because it’s only going to get colder. My butt already feels like a chunk of ice.”

  “We could sneak into my father’s shed. I know where the key is. Problem is, if he finds us, he’ll kill us,” chattered Tatia.

  “No, look what he did to you last time you were there!” Bruce said angrily.

  Begging on the streets during the fall and winter months was the worst. With holidays and all; people in a bigger hurry to get where they’re going, they hardly collected any money during those times.

  After several days had passed, and all they’d eaten was a couple cans of tuna, Tatia snuck into her father’s house to find food.

  She thought he was at work!

  “Where the hell have you been?” he shouted.

  Tatia dropped the loaf of bread and turned.

  When she wouldn’t answer, he lost it.

  She turned to leave, but he pinned her against the wall and gave her one of his mind blowing welts.

  Tatia slipped out of his grip, bolted through the kitchen sliding glass door, into the back where she hopped up onto the brick wall that fenced in the yard.

  In a hurry to get away, she lost her footing and rolled off the wall, smashing onto the ground where she broke her nose and her glasses.

  Her nose healed rather quickly, but her glasses were shattered. The white tape that now held them together almost glowed under the light of the moon.

  “We could try the City Pan again?” suggested Bruce.

  It was one of the few shelters that took people in without asking questions. For a couple of underage kids, their options were few, and especially during winter as more and more adults sought shelter earlier in the day.

  “No, the beds will be taken,” Jack replied.

  “Well,” Tatia said, as she stood up, “let’s go. The cold coming up from the ground is just as bad as the wind. The neighborhood park lawn will be warmer.”

  As they made their way through the Pickley Hills neighborhood, they were careful to stay in the shadows. They needed to avoid adults who would call the cops. In their part of town, it wasn’t common to see teens lurking the streets at night.

  Tatia lived in the neighborhood for as long as she could remember and although it was a middle class neighborhood, her family wasn’t at all respectable.

  The first time she left home, she’d spent the night at the Pickley Hills Park. That was where she met Bruce and Jack. Since then, they’d stuck together no matter what.

  “Oh no,” she said soddenly, and stopped walking.

  From a block away, they could see the sprinklers, at the park, had been set.

  “Let’s keep on,” said Bruce. “We’ll just have to squat tonight.”

  They continued past the park, and into another neighborhood.

  “What do you think of this one?” asked Bruce, as they approached a dark house with a ‘For Sale’ sign.

  “It’s been sold,” said Jack. He pointed to a trail of heavily disturbed dirt that lead up to the front door. Its screen was slightly bent out of place, and there were scuff marks on the porch. “Someone’s been moving things in.”

  After a few more blocks, they happened into a wealthier neighborhood. Nearly every house had tall security fences that protected the mac mansions in their midst.

  “This looks good,” said Tatia with hope, as they approached a tall gray manor style house. Its gate had been left open.

  They walked up to the porch. Jack peered through the front window.

  “Oh, man,” he groaned excitedly.

  “What?” asked Tatia.

  “There’s a table setting and dishes out; candles and silverware, too. They’re probably going to show it tomorrow.”

  “Think there’s food in there?” asked Tatia.

  “Gosh, I’m starving,” said Bruce.

  Jack did a 360, and seeing that none of the neighbors’ lights were on, urged Bruce and Tatia to keep a lookout while he went around back.

  A moment later, they heard the sound of breaking glass. Next, an alarm sounded off.

  “Oh, no!” Bruce said in a loud whisper. “Jaaack!”

  They turned around and around, looking for neighborhood security cars.

  “Jack! Come on! I hear sirens; they’re coming, now!” Bruce said hoarsely.

  Carrying a bag, Jack ran past them and out of the gate; Tatia and Bruce followed.

  They turned right and ran to the corner, made another right and then a left.

  When they finally stopped running, they found themselves in an unknown alley.

  “What did you get?” asked Bruce.

  “Chicken and some rolls.”

  In the distance, they could still hear sirens.

  “Did anyone see us?” asked Jack, panting for air.

  “I don’t think so,” said Bruce.

  “Great. The last thing we need is to get into trouble with the police again.”

  “Hey, what if we crashed here?” asked Tatia.

  Jack turned to look behind him. Bruce moved his head over, so he could see around Jack.

  Across from where they stood was a large wrought iron fence that was barely visible through a barrage of ferns that were growing out of control.

  The property was dark and still; the gardens were overgrown and the grass was over three feet high.

  In the center of the property was a two story house; its brown paint cracked and peeled on every square inch of its surface.

  “What do you think?” asked Bruce.

  “Vines are growing up through the cobble stones,” Jack commented. “Ivy has broken through the window. I’d say it looks like a good place to hide out for a couple days or more… maybe weeks.”

  The sirens got louder.

  “Okay, help me up,” said Tatia.

  Bruce and Jack intertwined their fingers, giving her a boost. She grabbed the top of the fence, lifted her leg up and over, and jumped onto the ground.

  She, in turn, stuck her hands back through the iron bars and clasped her fingers with Jack. Bruce jumped over and, together, they stuck their hands through the bars, once more so Jack could follow.

  Right as Jack dropped to the ground, flashing lights glared down the alley.

  “Hide!” Jack said.

  Tatia and Bruce jumped to the right side of the bushes while Jack jumped to the left.

  They stood real still as the police car drove, slowly, by.

  When it’d passed, they went up to the tall, dark and creepy house, and looked through the windows.

  “I can’t see anythi
ng,” said Bruce.

  “Let’s go in,” said Tatia.

  The lock was rusty, for Jack only had to ram the door with his shoulder once. It swung back, wildly, hitting the wall.

  Inside was dark and dusty. The only thing they could see was the cobwebs that were highlighted by the moon.

  Bruce pulled his backpack off and pulled out his little battery operated fluorescent lamp.

  Holding it at arms-length in front of him, he, slowly, stepped over the threshold and into the entrance hall. Jack and Tatia stayed right behind him.

  They stopped in front of a large staircase that lined the wall to their right.

  Tatia sneezed half a dozen times.

  “Ugh!” she cried, trying to swallow. “I think I’m allergic to dust!”

  To their left was a large filthy parlor room.

  In the center, covering a plastic wrapped couch was the largest spider web they’d ever seen. Next to it was a plastic wrapped chair.

  “I’m not going in there until someone finds the spider and kills it!” said Tatia. “I hate spiders.”

  Ignoring her, Bruce and Jack continued further into the living room.

  “Hey, did you guys hear me?”

  “It’s just a spider, Tatia,” said Bruce.

  Despite her protest, she followed, closely, behind them.

  Facing the couch was a sooty fireplace with old knick knacks scattered on its mantle. All along the walls were books, magazines and newspapers piled high. In the right corner, half a dozen wood chairs were piled on top of one another.

  “A fireplace; thank goodness,” said Tatia.

  She made to go and grab a chair to start breaking down for a fire.

  “Wait,” said Jack. “Let’s inspect the rest of the house, first.”

  Although the house had many rooms, it only took a few minutes to check them out.

  Past the parlor was a dusty old den. In the corner, stood a glass display case with an old record player, and some photographs.

  The front room was completely emptied, except for dusty cobwebs that hung everywhere.

  Sticking close to one another, they went back, past the parlor, into the kitchen.

  There were still dishes in their cupboards, and pots and pans hung from the ceiling. A microwave that was completely covered in spider web sat on a counter.

  “AAAAAGGHHH!!!” screamed Tatia.

  She grabbed Bruce’s arm.

  “AAAGH!!” followed Bruce.

  He jumped back, stepping on Tatia’s foot and nearly knocking her over.

  “Will you shut it!?” said Jack.

  With bulging eyes, Bruce pointed to the kitchen window.

  It was missing a curtain. Perfectly outlined by the light of the moon that shone through was an enormous tarantula spider.

  “Relax, guys, they’re harmless,” said Jack, as if it were nothing.

  “Wrong!” Tatia Blurted. “The females are bad!”

  “That’s not a female,” said Jack, who picked up a large pot and placed it on the glass, over the spider.

  “Quick, give me something flat to keep it inside the pot.”

  Bruce handed him a plate from the cupboard.

  Carefully, Jack slid the plate between the glass and the pot. A little black leg stuck out as he did this, making Tatia scream again.

  “Open the kitchen door for me.”

  Bruce did as he asked, and they watched him carefully carry the spider outside.

  Gently, he squatted in the three foot high grass. He set the plate on the ground, and jumped back as he lifted the pot.

  They watched the softball sized spider scurry away, and then he said, “I advise being careful. There may still be other spiders in the house.”

  Upstairs, they found half a dozen emptied, but dusty, rooms, except one that had an old, moldy mattress.

  A door at the end of the upstairs hall opened up to a set of attic stairs.

  When they opened the door, there were many scurrying and scraping sounds. They made it to the top of the stairs in time to see a family of raccoons waddling to escape through the broken window.

  One turned around and, barring its fangs, lifted its paws and hissed.

  “WAAaah!” Jack yelped.

  “Are you seriously scared of a coon?” asked Bruce incredulously.

  “Yeah, did you see the size of its teeth?”

  “It’s just the light, Jack.”

  There were boxes everywhere, piled in stacks of 5 feet and higher. In the center were more plastic wrapped couches and chairs.

  “More spider webs!” cried Tatia, taking in the voluminous string that covered the furniture, boxes and ceilings. “I’ll see you at the bottom of the stairs.”

  A moment later, Bruce and Jack reappeared in the hallway.

  “Probably best to check out the attic during the day,” said Bruce.

  They followed Jack to the room with the moldy mattress, which they dragged downstairs into the living room.

  Half an hour later, they sat on the couch, eating baked chicken and rolls in front of a fire.

  Since Tatia had allergies, they turned the plastic inside out and laid it on the mattress, creating a nice clean film for them to put their sleeping bags on.

  One thing they never did, until they were sure of their surroundings, was split up. So they pushed the furniture back against the books that lined the wall. That night, Bruce climbed in between Tatia and Jack, on the mattress in front of the fire.

  But Tatia couldn’t fall asleep. For some reason, there was something about the house that made her uncomfortable. She didn’t want to say anything, but several times since they’d arrived, she’d thought she’d heard moaning.

  When a particularly foul scent singed her nose hairs, Tatia said, “Gosh, you suck.”

  Bruce tried to pull her back, as he laughed.

  She wrenched her shoulders out of his hands, went to the couch, and watched the fire for a bit.

  Tatia reached into her backpack, and pulled out the picture of her mother. Sometimes, she liked to imagine what it would have been like, if she’d stayed.

  Her father liked to tell her over and over that her mother couldn’t stand her; that without warning, she’d picked up and ran, one day. She didn’t believe it, though. Even if her mother did do what her father said, she would’ve never left Tatia behind.

  In many fantasies that she’d had, Tatia imagined that one day her mother would return. She’d grab Tatia, and they’d run for it; it wouldn’t matter where they went, either, just as long as they were together. Every day, she would go to school and, when she’d come home, her mother would be waiting for her. They’d do homework together, and then she’d make her dinner. When she was sick, she’d make her chicken soup. They’d be so happy because, together, they’d have escaped the ogre that was her father.

  Tatia was distracted from her thoughts when a rush of cool air blew all over her, making the hair follicles on her arm stand. The fire flickered ferociously, leaving her in complete darkness for a moment.

  She got up from the couch, walked to the staircase, and looked into the darkness, wondering if a window had blown open in the den or the front room.

 

  A creeping sound, like the whining of a failing brake echoed through the hall.

  At first, she didn’t think much of it, but then the sound seemed to get closer. The whining traveled through the air and blew directly into her ear.

  Tatia screamed and jumped back.

  “Shut up!” said Jack annoyed.

  Ignoring him, Tatia slowly backed into the wall. Wind blew through the room, blowing up the dusty curtains, making the rods rattle.

  Jack sat up and looked around the room.

  The whining brake sound turned into a high pitched steam whistle that blasted through the air.

  Bruce jumped out of his sleeping bag.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  The draft and the whistle continued to blow louder and louder
.

  They raised their hands to their ears.

  Bruce and Jack backed against the wall, next to Tatia.

  Suddenly, a loud CRUNCH noise rent the air.

  The noise came from a hole that’d been punched into the wall on the other side of the room.

  Wood splinters and dust sprayed across the room.

  Holes continued to appear in a straight row, across the wall.

  Tatia covered her eyes to protect them from wood shards.