Helens-of-Troy (8 page)

Helena pointed the sharp broken handle
right between the animal’s eyes. “Listen up, pup. You’re not
Lassie. There’s no happy ending here. Run along home. If you want
me to destroy you, I will. The choice is yours.”

The animal put its tail between his
legs and dropped its head in defeat. Helena watched as it slunk
down the road.

“Damn coyotes,” Helena said. “Come on
love, it’s safe to come out now. Let’s get you back inside the
house.”

Ellie quickly opened the door and
scrambled out, tucking Beastie Boy under the shawl.

“You,” she gasped, giving Helena a big
hug, “are totally awesome. I swear you broke that rake with
superhuman strength. Weren’t you scared?”

“Maybe a little,” Helena admitted. “But
I’m going to be more afraid of your mother when she sees what that
animal did to the door of the van.” She put her arms on Ellie’s
shoulder. “Let’s not tell her about this, all right? You know how
she gets. I’ll tell her some kids stole the rake out of the garage
and scratched the truck. Kids gone wild. This being hell night,
that sounds plausible.”

“You’re going to lie to my mom?” Ellie
questioned, somewhat wide-eyed.

“Do you want to be locked up for the
rest of your life?”

“A plausibility it is,” Ellie
agreed.

Pushing her granddaughter slightly
ahead, Helena looked down the street. The cur was at the end of the
road, watching them. His eyes had turned to a single shade of red,
the same shade of red Helena’s own eyes, unbeknownst to Ellie, had
turned as she angrily glared back at it.

She took a moment to compose herself.
“Well, you have to admit it hasn’t been a boring day, Ellie,”
Helena mused as they went back inside the house.

“It doesn’t even register on the boring
day chart,” Ellie said emphatically.

“I love you, Ellie,” Helena
smiled.

“I love you too, Nancy,” Ellie laughed.
She turned to Helena and gave her another hug. “Really, Nan, you
kicked butt out there. Thanks for saving me.”

“I wish I could always be there for
you,” Helena said wistfully, leading her granddaughter back into
the safety of the house.

Upstairs, safely tucked in her bed with
Beastie Boy by her side, Ellie grabbed her phone from the
nightstand and checked to see if Dina had called her back. There
were no messages. Saddened, she put the phone back and turned out
the light. She couldn’t believe how tired she suddenly was. Within
minutes she had fallen into a deep slumber.

Across the room, the door leading to
the balcony opened by itself, bringing a rush of cold air inside.
Ellie subconsciously tried to pull the quilt tight around her, but
her actions were met with an unidentifiable resistance. She woke up
and glanced at the foot of the bed. What her half-awake mind could
only describe as a shadow-man was now standing before her,
beckoning her to follow him outside. She tried to resist, but she
was no longer in control of her own body.

If she had taken some hallucinating
drug, there might have been an explanation for how she suddenly
found herself transported from the safety of the attic bedroom to
standing alone in the middle of a country side road. But Ellie
didn’t take drugs, which made the situation all the more
baffling.

“Nan,” she said to herself, “come up
with something plausible for this.”

The mist rolling on the ground was cold
on Ellie’s feet. “Where the hell am I?” she wondered. She could see
an old wooden bridge over a creek, and beyond that, a three story
brick building that was sadly in need of repair. “You know,” she
whispered breathlessly, “eight hours of sleep is so overrated.
Let’s wake up now, please.”

Hearing someone whistling in the
distance, she turned towards the sound.

“Frère Jacques?” Ellie asked. “Is
somebody whistling Frère Jacques? I can’t stand that stupid song.
This nightmare is getting worse and worse by the
minute.”

She listened intently. The notes were
slow and methodical, more like a funeral march than a lullaby. The
tempo began to lull her into a trance-like state, her body moving
towards the sound under no will of her own. “Oh no, not again,” she
pleaded. She tried to dig her heels into the earth to stop moving,
but she could no longer feel her feet. “I’m floating,” she
discovered. “This is crazy.”

She could see the outline of a man on
the other side of the bridge. He was tall and lanky and oddly
beguiling. He leaned against the wooden structure with a
devil-may-care slouch. As he turned his profile into the moonlight
she could see that he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. But
there was something unnatural about him just the same. He was
there, but he wasn’t. “You’re the Shadowman,” she said. “You were
just in my bedroom. Did you bring me here?”

He lifted his black cowboy hat from his
brow and looked long and hard at Ellie.

“Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques. Dormez
vous? Dormez vous?” he sang. He beckoned for Ellie to come nearer.
“I know you hate that that song. You always did. But maybe we can
sing it in a round. For old time’s sake.”

“Do I know you?” Ellie
asked.

“Maybe. I know you. That’s all that’s
important. Sonnez les matines, sonnez les matines, din dan don.
Isn’t that how it goes?”

“
Who are you?” Ellie asked.
“Why did you bring me here to the little swamp on the
prairie?”

He smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re not in
any immediate danger.” He pointed down the road. “Though I can’t
say the same about her.” “She’s got a big problem.”

Ellie could see a figure running
towards them with incredible speed. “Somebody ought to sign that
person to endorse running shoes,” she quipped.

“I’d get out of his way,” the cowboy
suggested, “unless you want to draw attention to yourself before
you have a plan.” The Shadowman grabbed the back of her T-shirt
collar and drew her towards himself.

“Watch it buddy. Do that again and I’ll
drop kick you in your shadow-crotch,” she said, yanking herself
free. “I don’t need a plan. I need an alarm clock.”

“Quiet. Don’t let him hear
you.”

“He? I thought you said she was in
danger. If you can’t tell the difference, let me educate you. Never
mind. Forget I said that.”

“Stay inside the bridge, Ellie. Don’t
let him see you.” The Shadowman pulled her away from the wooden
archway.

“Do you mind?" Ellie commented,
bringing her fingers to her nose. “It stinks in here. Like skunk
cabbage. It makes me want to puke.”

The runner was now approaching the
creek. He had a blanket around him hiding his face and he was
carrying something bulky in his arms. Something hidden, that was
emitting a horrible cry.

“What the hell is that?” Ellie
gasped.

“Do something,” the Shadowman said,
distancing himself from Ellie and the apparition. “You’re the only
one who can. The problem is also yours.”

“What’s my problem?” Ellie asked.
“Other than my REM stage lasting way too long.” She turned towards
the Shadowman but he had vanished. “Great. Thanks a lot for your
support. Am I supposed to solve the mystery or am I supposed to
hide? I am so confused.” She turned to leave, trying to remember
the direction she had come from.

The figure was now at the end of the
bridge staring at her, his eyes poking out from a hole between the
blanket layers.

So much for hiding, Ellie
realized.

“What’s the matter?” she taunted.
“Didn’t the other little kids in the neighborhood want to play with
you? You’re supposed to say ‘ollie-ollie-oxen-free’ before you come
to find me. Now turn around and count to one hundred.”

He hissed at her.

“You have GOT to be kidding,” she
laughed. “I’m sorry, dream from hell or not, nobody hisses anymore.
Speak in tongues or something if you’re just trying to be
scary.”

He slowly removed the blanket from
around his head. His long dark hair hung in sweaty strands over an
unusually angular face. He had high cheekbones—model type
cheekbones—that framed his long and slender nose
magnificently.

“Okay,” Ellie said cautiously,
fascinated by his appearance. His features reminded her somewhat of
an afghan hound. He didn’t look much older than she was.
“Apparently you and I were meant to be. Acquaintances anyway. So…
do you want to tell me what are you hiding under that blanket of
yours? Or do you really want to play ‘I’ll show you mine?’ Because
as you can see, I haven’t got anything to counter with.” She held
her empty arms up and waved her hands in the air.
“Nada.”

His feet shuffled uncomfortably. He
lowered his head and turned to peer at the water momentarily. As
his body moved, parts of the blanket draping his body became
loosened.

Ellie could see a tiny patch of blue
gingham poking out from beneath the bundle he was holding in his
arms. It moved in the opposite direction of the twist of his torso,
as if trying to get away.

She took a step closer to
him.

He growled.

“Now, that’s just rude.” she
said.

“Go away,” he urged.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” she
said, softening her voice. “I just want to know what you’ve got in
your little bundle of joy there, and then I’ll be on my way.” She
remembered the courage her Nan had shown facing the coyote earlier.
She desperately wanted to summon up some of that courage for
herself. “Oh hi, Nan,” she lied, waving. “Am I ever glad to see
you.”

The fake-out worked. The teenager
immediately turned around to see if there was someone behind him,
giving Ellie the opportunity she needed. She darted towards him and
pulled the blanket down from his shoulder in one fell swoop, her
hand brushing against his exposed neck as she did so. He was cold.
Icy cold.

The sudden human touch startled him and
he accidentally released his grip on the bundle he was holding.
Ellie watched in horror as a young girl tumbled from the blanket.
She landed on the ground with a thud so hard, Ellie wondered if she
was still alive.

The child let out a weak moan. Her
little gingham-covered arms reached out towards Ellie. “Help me,
Ellie. Find me.”

“I’m here,” Ellie assured her. “I’ll
help you.”

The teenager turned towards Ellie, his
red eyes glaring at her intently. He snarled at her again, and this
time Ellie could see two sharp fangs beneath his blood red
lips.

“You bastard,” Ellie shouted, reaching
for the child. “Keep away from her.”

“Leave my kiddie meal alone,” the
teenager screeched in an ear-shattering octave. He dragged the girl
out of Ellie’s reach.

“What?” Ellie screamed in disbelief.
“You’re sick, you know that?”

“A little salt, maybe a shake of
pepper. She doesn’t have as much meat on the bone as I like, but
she’ll do.” He looked at Ellie and licked his lips. “For starters.”
He continued to drag the girl to the edge of the foul smelling
water.

“Nighty-night,” he taunted, as like the
biblical parting of the sea, the waters separated and the teenager
disappeared into its muddy bottom with the little girl.

Ellie ran to the edge of the creek. It
was really too shallow for them to have disappeared, but they were
definitely gone. Ellie could only see her own reflection in the
moonlit water. She shivered.

“He left the blanket behind,” the
Shadowman said, startling her as he reappeared beside her. “You
might as well keep warm.”

“You’ve got a lousy sense of timing,”
she said to him, refusing to pick it up. “I’d rather freeze to
death, thanks.”

“Your choice,” the Shadowman shrugged.
“You’re as stubborn as the rest of them.”

“What do you want from me?” Ellie
asked, perplexed.

“Sonnez les matines, sonnez les
matines, din-dan-don, din-dan-don,” he sang, leaning forward to
sweep a dark strand of hair from Ellie’s face. “You have been
summoned Ellie. The bell that tolls, it tolls for thee.”

In the attic room on the third floor of
the old Victorian house, Ellie awoke from her slumber, sat up, and
let out a silent scream.

Friday...

CHAPTER FIVE

Always an early riser, Helena left her
bedroom and crept down the stairs towards the front door, trying
not to awaken Helen or Ellie.

“That was a night and a half,” she said
to herself, pausing in front of the mirror in the hallway to look
at her reflection. She gently fingered her hair, pushing her bangs
away from her eyes. “All things considered, I think I look
presentable enough to greet the world. The Maple Street portion of
the world, anyway.”

Morning was her favorite time of the
day. She felt everything was so peaceful before the rest of the
world woke up. Stepping out into the quietness of her front porch,
she looked down the paved walkway that ran through the middle of
her lawn. The streetlight was casting enough light to confirm what
she had already suspected. The weekly local paper was not where it
should have been.