Cold Summer Nights

COLD SUMMER NIGHTS

Thanks to everyone at Bump in the Night Publishing.

Author’s Note

Although this novella takes place in Des Moines, Iowa, any similarities between people and places are purely coincidental. Except for the ghost, who is still very much alive and not
well.

COLD SUMMER NIGHTS

a
novella

SEAN THOMAS FISHER

Copyright 2011 by Sean Thomas Fisher

Published by Bump in the Night Publishing

Chapter One

Nick woke up and refused to look at the alarm clock. He felt wide awake and finding out it might not even be two in the morning yet would only make matters worse. The streetlight outside the window sliced through the mint green curtains, driving the pitch black out like a pied piper. The dark outline of the ceiling fan hovered above him. He still couldn’t believe there was a woman lying next to him who wasn’t Amy. With
Summer
in the picture these past two and a half months, he rarely found himself thinking about Amy anymore. Not like back in September. He doubted
Summer
would ever pull a stunt like Amy had. Summer was way too sweet for that. He exhaled, hoping Amy had least driven by and seen another car in his driveway tonight.

Maybe it was close to dawn, but probably not. It was too dark out. He closed his eyes, shuddering at the prospect it was only three in the morning, leaving him quietly tossing and turning for the next few hours, sequestered in darkness. The last thing he wanted to do now was get up and
start
watching TV in the middle of the night. Summer might consider that a red flag, like texting too much.

He couldn’t take it anymore and the alarm clock disappointed him with
3:32
lit up in blue numerals. His heart sank further when he saw the thin silhouette of someone standing next to him. He gasped and scrambled backwards across the queen sized bed like a crab, almost falling off the other side. He squinted at the shadow that stood there silently watching him with blank eyes.

He swallowed dryly, his heart hammering in his chest.
“Summer?”

She didn’t respond, her strawberry smelling perfume lingering in the air. Long, dark hair spilled over her slouching shoulders and hung as limply as the slender arms at her side. Nick recognized his glow in the dark Metallica t-shirt she was wearing, even though its glow had run out of juice hours ago. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing when the living room TV turned on.

His head snapped over to the open bedroom door, his blood racing faster. Shadows danced across the hallway walls leading to the living room.

He peeled back the red comforter and swung his feet to the carpeted floor, afraid to turn his back on
Summer
as he crept towards the open bedroom door. In the dimly lit master bedroom, he couldn’t tell if she was watching him or not. At the other end of the hallway, flashing pictures of whatever Fox was airing at three-thirty in the morning splattered the living room walls. Suddenly he got the feeling they weren’t alone.

Before going out to investigate, Nick went back to his side of the bed, gently squeezing past
Summer’s
statuesque body, and grabbed a deep sea diving knife from beneath the gray bed skirt. Even though they were in Iowa, he knew this oceanic garage sale score would come in handy someday. Summer didn’t move or speak and he was hesitant to wake her, knowing that was the worst thing you could do to a sleepwalker. Thoughts of her violently attacking him slipped through his mind as he slowly pressed past her rigid frame again. Her wide open eyes made the hairs on his arms stand up and he still couldn’t tell if they were following him or not.

He gripped the knife tighter and cautiously stepped into the narrow hallway. The closer he got to the living room, the more the boisterous audio breached his brain. In the dead of the night, the volume seemed overly amplified, but even
worse,
it masked the movement of any potential intruders.

His eyes nervously darted around the living room. He crossed over to the coffee table and reached for the remote, feeling like he was moving in slow motion with the flat screen’s stroboscopic light bouncing off the beige walls. The knife’s sharp blade glimmered in the TV’s light and, without
looking,
he quickly hit the power button on the remote with his thumb. But
King of the Hill
refused to go away. He pointed the remote directly at the TV and hit the red button again.
Nothing.
He shook it and hit the button again to no avail. He tried turning it down and
was met
with the same result.

“Damn,” he whispered, tossing the controller onto the couch and shuffling his bare feet across the dark wood flooring.

He studied the TV with narrow eyes. Cartoon images flickered past, as he frantically scanned its black front and thin sides with his finger leading the way. This power button he didn’t know by heart so he gave up and turned on a nearby lamp. A local car dealer commercial came on, much louder than the cartoon had been. He quickly located the power button hidden on the side and pushed it with authority, cutting off the
pretty brunette
spokesperson in mid-sentence.

The silence that followed was instant and thick. His right ear began ringing like a tiny ambulance was approaching inside his head while his puffy eyes swept the room, the knife turning in his sweaty hand. He gasped when he saw his own reflection staring back at him in a long mirror hanging horizontally above the couch. A pent up breath pushed past his lips as he turned and checked the front door’s deadbolt. It
was still locked
. He traipsed into the kitchen and checked the sliding glass door, which was secure as well. Back in the living room he surveyed the scene, scratching his nappy head. Outside of a few empty beer bottles and a purple stained wine glass, everything seemed to be in order. He turned to his new TV again and shook his head
.“
Nick?” rang out from the bedroom.

His heart jumped. He glanced down at the knife in his hand, suddenly feeling foolish, and turned off the lamp. He shuffled his feet back down the hallway to find
Summer
already back in bed.

“Were you watching TV?” she asked, propped up on her elbows and staring at him through slits.

“No, it just turned on all by itself,” he said, climbing back into bed and discreetly sliding the knife back under the bed skirt.

She brushed tangled hair from her face and tilted her head. “It did?”

“Yeah, and the remote’s dead too.”

She studied him through the faint darkness, processing the information through her foggy brain. “That’s weird. It was working fine last night.”

He snorted, staring up at the ceiling fan again. “Those batteries are brand new.”

Her head plopped back down into the pillow. “That’s creepy,” she yawned.

 
“Right?” he said, his chest still undulating. “But you
wanna
know what’s really creepy? Right before the TV turned on, I woke up and you were standing right next to me.”

She propped herself up on her elbows again and squinted at him. “What?”

He turned to her.
“Yeah, scared the shit
outta
me.”

She paused, a frown spreading across her pallid complexion and then laughter wiped it away. “No I wasn’t!”

“I’m not kidding. You must’ve been sleepwalking.”

A small high-pitched laugh escaped her full lips. “I don’t sleepwalk,” she said, dropping her head back into the pillow.

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

She laughed lightly.
“Only if you make me watch another one of those
Transformers
movies.”

Her cold feet found his under the covers as his mind flipped through a rolodex of explanations, none of which made any sense. Do people sleepwalk with their eyes open? Maybe coffee and wine isn’t such a good combination before bed.
And what about the TV?
It wasn’t even two months old yet. How could it just turn on by itself?

To his surprise,
Summer’s
heavy breathing quickly returned. He looked back to the ceiling fan with unfocused eyes, wondering if Amy was still sleeping next to Brad. He almost convinced himself he didn’t care. Summer was hotter anyway but he would have to play it cool. The last girl he met at a bar with Rusty, he scared off before he could even get her back to his house.
Too many text messages.
He cringed at the thought of it and rubbed his face. This would be different. Amy was six months ago and things were different now.