The Third Floor Part 3

Then the girl dissolved into the fountain, her dead, yellow skin dripping off her and slipping down into the waterspout. Joey was alone for real. He looked around, wondering which way was home.

Then his dream changed and Joey was sitting on a picnic blanket and his mother was with him. As always, her dream-face was blurred, but Joey knew who she was.

Liz rinsed away the soap from her arm and saw most of the paint flecks were gone. What few were left she figured would wear off by the end of the day. She wet her hair, lathered and scrubbed it, and turned her back to the showerhead to wash the shampoo from it. A stream of soapy water ran into her eye and she plunged her face into the line of spray to rinse it. All that accomplished was causing it to burn even more. She squinted through the other eye, searching for the cloth to wipe them.

As she pressed the soaking cloth to her face, Liz suddenly felt a series of chills skitter up her spine. The backs of her legs went very cold and she had the feeling someone was watching her.

Had Jack come home early? Was he joining her in the shower for a nooner on his lunch break?

She wiped her face and peered over her shoulder to see a gap in the shower curtain and a small boy, younger than Joey, staring at her. He had gla.s.ses and short black hair.

Liz dropped the cloth and stepped back, slipping on the tub floor and tumbling backward. She knocked her head on the edge of the tub and bruised her hip. She must have blacked out for a second because she remembered the sense of waking up when she opened her eyes, then twisted her face out of the line of hot spray.

"Oh, my G.o.d," Liz said out loud, shutting off the water and flinging the curtain back. Cold air a.s.saulted her, breaking her skin out in wet goose b.u.mps. She yanked her robe off the doork.n.o.b and wrapped it around herself, then stepped out of the bathroom in a haze of steam and confusion.

"What the f.u.c.k was that?" She hurried to the middle of the main room and looked back at the open bathroom door, steam still swirling out in white wisps.

The sun shone into the room, casting Liz's shadow large on the floor before her. The smell of paint surrounded her. A valve was released on her skull and it felt as if it would float away.

"Just paint fumes," she said. "That's all."

She gathered her things, turned off the light and closed the door. As she rounded the landing on her way downstairs, she thought, Forgot to open the windows. Pa.s.sed out from too many fumes.

She found Joey still asleep and decided she'd relax for another half-hour or so before waking him. After pulling on a s.h.i.+rt and a pair of shorts, she rolled onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, crossing her ankles and trying to think of parties or shopping, something to get her mind off the look on the boy's face and how real he seemed.

Jack had been two weeks on the job, but it was a job he'd been doing, more or less, for over a year. His last thirteen months in Houston had been spent as acting lead man for the electronics department of a computer manufacturer. The previous supervisor had left suddenly to avoid a nervous breakdown from job-related stress and Jack had been moved in to take over until a permanent replacement could be found. For six months they strung him along, never giving him an official t.i.tle, but never saying he wasn't in charge. Finally, he decided to find a company that wasn't afraid to commit. Fett Technologies was the company. Their main plant was in Angel Hill, Missouri and, although the money wasn't as good, the cost of living was lower, too, and, after doing some figuring, Jack realized he'd actually be coming out more ahead every month than he had been. So he took it.

Liz offered no resistance. In fact, Jack suspected she might see the move as a chance to solidify the feeling of family and belonging she'd been trying to build since they'd married a year ago. The only person Jack was leaving behind was his brother Allen, and they rarely saw each other except holidays. So to Angel Hill it was.

The folks at Fett Technologies took quickly to Jack, at least it seemed to him. And he liked them. His days were split, spent half in meetings and half trying to track down a late toggle switch or a roll of thirty conductor cable that was supposed to have arrived three weeks ago. What little time he didn't spend sitting or searching, he familiarized himself with as many aspects of the job as he could.

Jack's department consisted of three areas. One built the circuit boards to go inside the control boxes, another made cables to connect the boxes to the utility trucks, and the third put the boxes together, a.s.sembling the switches and b.u.t.tons to the faces, inserting the boards, and connecting the cables. Jack spent the first week helping in the circuit board area, and the second week soldering connectors to lengths of raw cable.

What he liked most about the job were the absolutes. When a part came back for repair, it was only a matter of finding the problem and solving it. In the test phase, if one of the switches didn't light up the correct test b.u.t.ton, check it out, fix it, and that was that. The job of building control panels didn't require a great deal of guesswork and that was the solid, logical world Jack had made for himself. He said sometimes, when asked why he went into electronics, that if he'd wanted to deal with unreality, he would have studied the arts instead.

Although he'd been there two weeks, the day Liz thought she saw a little boy in the bathroom was the first day Jack had sat down and talked to Charley Clark. Sure, he'd pa.s.sed a minute here and there with him, but Jack didn't know a thing about him. He'd never had a conversation with him. When Jack walked into the break room to eat his lunch, Charley was the only one who had opted not to eat out that day. His plate of microwave pot roast sat steaming in front of him.

"Wow," Jack said, "mind if I sit down? It's kind of crowded in here, I don't know if I can fight my way through the mob."

"Go ahead," Charley said. He closed his newspaper and slid it aside. "You haven't decided to get out while you can, I take it?"

"Huh?" Jack asked, setting his coffee and chips on the table. "Oh, you mean the job? No," he replied, tossing a small pizza into the microwave. "This is a great job. I like the company. My last job, they were so screwed up, it's a wonder the company didn't go under."

"Wow," Charley said. "So you just worked for a different division of Fett, right?"

"No," Jack chuckled. "This place is a well-oiled machine compared to that one. At least here, I know what's going on, you know? I know the chain of command and if there's a problem, I'm figuring out who to go to for what. Down there . . ."

"That bad?"

"More so," Jack said. The microwave beeped and he took his pizza to the table. "No, I like the job. The town's a little different, but I figured it would take a while to get used to a much smaller place."

Charley smirked as he said, "Better watch what you say about Angel Hill. She might come back to bite you in the a.s.s."

Jack looked sideways at him, not sure if Charley was trying to be funny or not. His tone was serious, despite his smile. "What do you mean?"

Charley took a bite of his pot roast. When he swallowed, he said, "There's a bookstore on Dayan Street, Arthur's Used Books. The man sells nothing but old books. Except," Charley said, holding his finger straight to mark his point, "this one book at the counter. The Outsider's Guide to Angel Hill. It's a collection of local stories, legends and s.h.i.+t that have sprung up since the town was founded. Some of them are bulls.h.i.+t, but some are right on. Arthur wrote it himself and had it published a few years ago. You won't find a person in town who owns a copy, but somebody's buying it 'cause he sure as s.h.i.+t doesn't keep his business open just selling old books."

"What's that got to do with the town, what did you say, biting me in the a.s.s?"

"Just read it. Halfway through and you'll wonder what the h.e.l.l's wrong with you to stick around here. Even if you don't believe a word of it, just that any of that c.r.a.p could be a.s.sociated with one town--."

Jack had finished his small microwave pizza while Charley was talking and he tossed the cardboard plate into the trash.

"Yeah well," Jack said, "every town's got its stories. I'm sure Angel Hill's are no different."

"Think what you want man, I'm just giving you the warning every new person gets when they move to town."

Jack tossed back the rest of his coffee and rinsed his cup in the sink. He had his chips, unopened, in his hand as he walked out.

"Just get the book, man. 'Arthur's Used Books' on Dayan."

Jack wasn't buying into Charley's bulls.h.i.+t, but what the man said did get him thinking. If he was going to live here, why not try to learn a little about the place. The main library was on Angel Hill Road, straight across from Holland.

Angel Hill Road was out of Jack's way. Angel Hill sits on the intersection of US169 and the Platte River. The highway and the river, on the map, form an X, splitting the town into four smaller sections. Fett Technologies stood in the lower section, in south Angel Hill. The Kitches lived in north Angel Hill in the top of the X. But the library lay in west Angel Hill and would require backtracking to get home. Jack contemplated the last half of his day whether he wanted to bother today, or wait until the weekend. After all, the drive home was a good thirty minutes with traffic and Fett Tech was on a regular nine-hour workday. If he made the detour today, he'd get home even later, and that meant even less time with his wife and son. And Liz would have been working on the house all day; her mood wouldn't be the best. It would be worse if he got home later.

He'd go this weekend instead.

Jack set his mind for a Sat.u.r.day trip to the library, then he clocked out and went home.

When he got there, Joey was staring down from a third floor window. Jack glanced up, saw him and waved. Joey turned away and was gone from sight. Jack used the front door this time; he wanted to see the second floor and get a look at what Liz had done today.

He had to give her credit. For someone who hadn't wanted a big job like this house, she was bringing everything together nicely. The fumes. .h.i.t him and he winced, but he liked the color. As he was admiring the paint job, he heard Joey moving around upstairs. Banging around would have been a better description. He'd never noticed before what a heavy walker his son was.

Downstairs, Liz was on the couch, her feet up and bare. When she saw him, she stretched, popped her back, and smiled.

"I'm glad you're home," she said.

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"Just am. I don't care so much for being by myself here."

He kicked off his shoes and fell onto the couch at her feet. "You got Joey," he said. "He seems to be getting used to everything."

"He doesn't count. I doubt Joey's gonna stop the monsters."

Jack chuckled. "I doubt that if monsters came to take you away, babe, I could do much about it. So I guess it's a good thing that isn't gonna happen."

"Did you see the color upstairs?"

"I did," he said, nodding. "I like it. Hey, this Sat.u.r.day, I'm gonna go to the library, do you want me to get you something?"

"What?" she asked. "I'm not allowed to go, too?"

"Of course you can go," Jack said. "I figured I could take Joey and give you a day to yourself. You don't even have to do any work on the house if you don't want to?"

Liz smiled with mock glee. "Do you mean it? I get a whole day off and don't have to touch the house?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, standing. "Hush up. I was trying to be nice."

"Yes," she said. "And it was very nice. And I just might take Sat.u.r.day and sleep until noon."

A knock came on the back door and Liz said, "There's dinner."

"Pizza?" Jack guessed.

"Yep."

"I'll get Joey," Jack said, walking toward the hall.

"Where are you going?" Liz asked as she got her purse and the checkbook.

"He's upstairs, isn't he?"

Liz laughed out loud, and said, "I don't think so. He's gonna play up there all by himself? Not in this lifetime."

"Yeah he is," Jack replied, nodding. "I saw him in the window when I was coming up the walk. And I heard him knocking around up there when I was looking at the paint. Where'd you think he was?"

"He's outside," Liz said. "I'm the one who let him out. Let me get the food and I'll yell for him."

Sure enough, when Liz returned with the pizza, Joey was in tow.

While Liz got plates and Joey sat swinging his legs at the table, Jack said, "I'll be right back," and he went upstairs.

He made a circuit of the rooms, but all he found was that he was alone. He walked to the window he'd seen Joey in and stared down at the yard. Then he turned back to the room and it was still empty. He made another round, looking in the closets, too, but Joey was still downstairs and when Jack returned, he asked, "Joe, you didn't go upstairs a little bit ago, did you?"

"Huh-uh," Joey said around the food in his mouth. "I don't want to go up there."

"Then we got racc.o.o.ns or something," Jack told Liz, "'cause I heard something moving around up there."

"What about mice?"

"I haven't found any in the traps yet."

"I thought you said you saw him, too."

"I thought I did, but I guess not. I know I heard something, though. I'll call an exterminator tomorrow. We can't have racc.o.o.ns and I don't even want to consider that it might be rats."

"Don't say that," Liz cautioned.

"Well, I'm pretty sure the realtor said the house had been empty for six years. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find out something was living in the ceilings up there."

"Why was it empty so long? A big place like this?"

"I don't know. I didn't think to ask. At the time, I was only interested in finding us a place and this seemed the perfect one."

"Perfect and spooky as h.e.l.l sometimes," Liz commented.

"What's so spooky about it? I mean, it's big, but so what? I think it's a nice house."

"Me too," Liz said. "I'm not saying it's a dump. I just wouldn't want to spend a night here alone."

The phone rang, then, cutting off Jack's response. They both looked at each other, wondering who could be calling when they still didn't know anyone.

"It's gotta be work," Jack said, then looked at his watch. "It's awful late though. There shouldn't even be anyone there still."

"Maybe it's burned down and they're calling to tell you not to come in tomorrow."

"Right," Jack said, smiling. "h.e.l.lo?" he said. He was silent a moment, listening, his face growing more twisted with his frown. When Jack pulled the phone away from his ear and turned it off, Liz caught a bit of sound, a loud, distorted screech.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"Just kids," he answered, "playing with the phone."

"What did they say?"

"Just stupid s.h.i.+t. Some moron. Immature c.r.a.p, that's what it is," he said, turning away from the phone and biting into his pizza. "People have got way too much time on their hands."

Joey took his bath while Liz sat sideways on the toilet reading to him. Jack was in the bedroom with his headphones on, strumming away.

After Joey was dried off and in his underwear, Jack told him it was bedtime. Joey whined, but knew it wouldn't do any good. Bedtime was bedtime was bedtime. Jack tossed him onto the mattress and Joey bounced, laughing. Jack covered him up and asked him, "How much do I love you, Joe?" Joey spread his arms wide and Jack said, "That's right. And who's your hero?"

"You," Joey said.

"And who's my hero?"

"Me," Joey said.

"Good job. Now get some good sleep. And don't let the bedbugs bite."

Jack was almost out of the room when Joey asked, "Aren't you gonna tell me to have sweet dreams?"

"I was getting to it," Jack covered. "Sweet dreams, Joe."

"Sweet dreams."

The door closed and Jack crossed the hall to the bathroom. While he was standing there, he heard a click and a whoosh. He stood still, listening. What the h.e.l.l was that? Racc.o.o.ns? No, his mind said. You forgot to lock the front door when you came home.

When he went up the landing, the front door stood wide open, welcoming anything the night might see fit to admit. He closed it, locked it, and went down to his wife.