My eyes popped open, an unfamiliar sound startling me awake. When it failed to repeat, I slowly resettled in the armchair, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and glanced at my watch.
1:36.
I downed the cold remains of my latest cup, then let my eyes explore the room. A pint-sized replica of a grandfather clock ticked away on the mantle, the sound registering as a slight pulse on the otherwise steady line of the camera’s microphone.
Creeeaak. An old hinge or loose floorboard echoed from another part of the house. I looked toward the couch. Charles lay curled on his side, head resting against a tattered pillow, softly snoring.
Bam! I flinched, heart pounding, then leaned forward as the incoming data stream began to fluctuate. The EMF levels continued to spike, hair rising across my forearms in sympathy. As quickly as the activity began, it stilled, and silence engulfed the house.
“Mr. Hawthorne,” I whispered, then louder, “Charles, something just happened.”
An alarm beeped from one monitor as the temperature spiraled towards freezing: sixty, fifty, forty. An icy chill crept down my spine, and my breath misted in the frigid air.
Wham! Bam! Slam! Every door in the house opened and closed in rapid succession, creating a cacophony of hellish applause. The audio pick-ups began to screech, and the computer screen displaying the eight cameras positioned through the house dropped, one by one, into static.
“Shouldn’t have come here.”
The low, twisted sound, echoed by a sibilant multi-layered hiss, emerged from behind me. I launched to my fee, knocking the chair away, and spun. Charles crouched on the couch, limbs twisted at odd angles and hands splayed into disjointed claws. Jaw gaping, long strings of saliva dripping from his chin. An unearthly howl emerged from his open, motionless maw, quickly changing to angry rasps, one overlapping the next.
“Leave. Get out. You don’t belong.”
My whole body began shaking. Possession wasn’t exactly my area of expertise. I don’t remember what I said. I think I just screamed. Whatever I did, it was apparently not what I should have done.
Charles leaped off the couch, hands stretched forth as he went for my throat. I barely raised my hands in time to grab his wrists before his weight, crashing into me, knocked me to the floor. He landed atop me, one knee slamming into my chest, expelling breath from my lungs.
His hands pressed further, fingers clawing, finally grazing my neck. I continued to struggle but without the leverage I needed, his fingers quickly found purchase. His grip tightened, and my vision began to narrow. I survived on short, gasping breaths.
“Charles, stop,” I choked out. “Wake up.”
One blood-shot blue eye stared into mine; the other rapidly darted around the room. The skin of his face undulated, rolling in waves as if hundreds of insects swarmed beneath the surface, and saliva dripped onto my face.
In desperation, I squeezed his wrists and twisted my hands to the side, hoping to break his grip. His skin resisted, flexing, then ripped like tissue paper. He screamed, numerous voices weaving together in agony, and blood seeped from the wounds. Jerking away, he scrambled to his knees.
“Take him,” Charles said in one voice, while others began to cackle.
“Strong,” said a second.
“Join us,” whispered a third.
“Get the hell away from me.” I scampered back, knocking over a camera tripod in my haste. The camera smashed on the floor, and I felt a sharp pain in my palm as I crawled across the shattered remains.
Charles leaped towards me again, and I slammed one foot into his chest, knocking him away. He fell to the side, rolling over, then rose into a crouch. Shaking his head, Charles finally spoke again, his mouth flexing with the words.
“Get out,” he said, each word rippling agony across his features. “I can’t control them.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Rolling over, I surged to my feet and ran for the foyer. Before I crossed the threshold, a pair of sliding panels slammed closed, barring my escape. I glanced back, then veered towards the end table next to the couch.
“Can’t… control… them,” Charles screamed his final word. Drawn into horrific laughter, the layered voices emerged again.
About Steven J. Bitz
