The Girl In The Cell (extended version)

Billy, always an early riser, woke up at quarter to six. He went first to the bathroom for his morning business, then down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. He walked down the steps to the first floor of the house, careful not to make any noise.

In the kitchen he poured a bowl of cereal, taking care not to spill any milk, as he had a habit of doing. He replaced the cereal box to the cupboard and the milk to the refrigerator (which Samantha still called the fridgermator) and took his bowl of cereal out onto the front porch. He sat on the porch swing and spooned cereal into his mouth. He'd always enjoyed eating out there on the porch early in the morning, when everything was still and silent, a private moment of peace for him to enjoy.

At the end of the street the light turned from green to red, though only Billy was around to see it. Crickets were chirping in the grass, a sound he found comforting somehow. The swing squealed quietly as he rocked it gently forward and back. A car passed the house, turned right at the end of the block.

He finished the last of the cereal, and slurped up the last of the milk. He took a deep breath pulling the cool morning air into his lungs. He stood up and made for the screen door. He pulled it open, the screen squealing on its hinges, but as he was about to open the front door, his hand resting on the doorknob, something caught his eye.

He let the screen door bang shut and walked over to the corner of the porch. He looked down at it numbly, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. Lying there in the corner was a pile of fur and gore, and wrapped around one end was a small collar with the name LESTER on it. Lester was the name of the family cat. A cry of revulsion escaped Billy's lips, and he rushed into the house yelling for his father.

---

The family stood around the little mound of dirt in the back yard. Karen stood with her arm draped around Samantha's shoulder, Billy stood alone with his arms crossed, and their parents stood together.

When Bill had come running into the bedroom shouting, Richard Smith had leaped out of bed, his gut wrenching at the sound of panic in his son's voice. He'd expected Billy to deliver some horrible message like, "there are burglars in the house", or "I reached down into the garbage disposal and...", but he certainly didn't expect to be told that the family cat had died. He'd calmed Billy down and asked him what had happened. Both Karen and Samantha had awakened with the shouting and were at the open bedroom door.

"It's the cat, Dad," Billy said. "It's dead."

"Lester, no," Samantha said in a six year old's whiny voice.

"What happened?" Richard asked.

"I don't know, it looks like it was torn apart!"

Samantha started crying.

"Come on Sam," Karen said. "Let's go back to your room."

Karen led her little sister away. Richard put his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Come on, show me what the fuss is about," he said.

---

After the "funeral" Karen suggested that she and Billy take Samantha to get an ice cream cone, something to take her mind off of the dead cat. Their father had gone to work, which he rarely did on Saturday's, which may have been a sign that things at work weren't going so smoothly.

A cool breeze started up as they walked back home, Samantha licking her scoop of strawberry as some dripped down the sides of the sugar cone. Billy and Karen walked slightly ahead of her, both of them feeling glum.

"Do you think it was a dog?" Billy asked quietly, not wanting to upset Samantha again.

"Huh?" Karen was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hadn't heard what he'd said.

"Do you think a dog did that to Lester?"

"I don't know. I guess so. What else would've done it?"

That was the thing, their neighborhood wasn't exactly crawling with wildlife, which left a dog as the only practical conclusion. But there were only a handful of dogs in the neighborhood, and Billy felt sure that he knew all of them. All of them were quite peaceful, with the exception of the Denker's dog, but the Denker's always kept their dog inside the house. Could it have been a stray? That could be it. But one question still went unanswered: How did the cat get outside in the first place?

"Think we'll get a new one?" Karen said, this time pulling Billy away from his thoughts.

"Um, I don't know. Dad probably won't want to. He never wanted to have a cat anyway."

"Yeah, but Mom will make him get a new one."

"I don't want to finish this," Samantha declares from behind them.

Billy and Karen turned around in time to see their little sister throw her cone onto the sidewalk. Together they said "Samantha!"

---

Bonnie had been named Homecoming Queen many years ago, but looking at herself in the mirror it seemed that it had been someone else entirely, another person in another place and time. The person she saw staring back at her had lines on her face, wrinkles around her eyes. They were not prominent, in fact most people didn't notice them at all, but she did. Every time she ran into someone who she'd known when she was younger, an old school friend or a distant relative, she had a hard time facing them, couldn't stand the thoughts she knew they must be thinking.

Look how much she's changed.

She could see it in their eyes.

Some people age well, and others don't.

She knew that they were thinking this, even if they didn't know it. She didn't like the woman she saw in the mirror, so she turned away. She wanted to be far away from the mirror, that mirror that could only tell the awful truth that she was not little Bonnie Bane anymore. She was Bonnie Smith, wife of one and mother of three. She was Mrs. Richard Smith, and things hadn't turned out as planned. She'd wanted to really be something after college, had wanted to teach, had wanted to be an artist, perhaps even a writer. But then she'd met Richard and things had changed. Now she was a full-time wife and mother, a "stay at home mom", what they call (and how she really hated this one) a homemaker. No, this was now how she'd pictured her future.

She decides to do a little housecleaning while the kids are gone. (After all, what's a good little homemaker to do?) She gets the vacuum out of the closet. As she plugs it in she is startled half to death when it roars immediately to life. Someone has left the switch in the "on" position again. She's told Karen and Billy too many times to count to switch the vacuum off when they were done with it, not to just unplug it while it was still on.

With her left foot she presses the lever that allows her to lower the handle. She starts in on the living room, picking up whatever the carpet has collected since she vacuumed last. She weaves her way around the furniture from one end of the room to the other. She finishes with the living room, and then Stan's den. She shuts off the vacuum, unplugs it. It's time to clean the second floor, and she dreads having to carry the heavy machine up the stairs. As she starts up the stairs she hears a door slam shut somewhere above her. The upstairs hall runs out of sight both right and left of the stairs. The slammed door sounded like it came from the left.

It's one of the kids' rooms. But they're...

They're gone, she thinks. Karen and Billy had taken Sam to get an ice cream cone.

They could've come in when I was in the den. The vacuum is so loud I wouldn't've heard them come in.

For some strange reason, this thought seems phony. A flutter of unease rises in her chest.

Quit being silly, Bonnie.

She resumes her climb.

"Billy, I need you to take out the trash. It's nearly overflowing."

There's no answer, no "I'll do it in a minute, Mom". She gets to the top of the stairs and looks down the left side of the hall. All three of the kids' bedroom doors are closed.

"Billy?"

She's startled by a loud bang, giving out a short little scream. It's Billy's room, someone

(something)

banging hard against the door from inside the room.

"Billy, is everything all right?"

The only answer is another loud bang. She realizes she's still holding the vacuum suspended from the floor. She sets it down and walks to Billy's door. She gives a tentative knock.

"Billy?" she says uncertainly.

Something's wrong here, something's wrong here, something's very wrong here.

The door is shattered outward, nearly explodes outward, and the last thing that Bonnie Smith ever feels is a deep cold, a cold like she has never known before.

---

Blissful in their ignorance the three children entered their home. Karen and Samantha immediately headed upstairs and Billy headed for the kitchen for a snack. Before he even got the refrigerator---

(fridgermator)

---open Karen yells out his name.

"Billy, come here quick!"

Usually this would've elicited a reply like, "Hold on" or, "Whad'ya need?", but something in her voice makes the hair rise on the back of his neck. He hurried up the stairs, shot a glance to the right where the master bedroom and the upstairs bathroom were, then turned left. His sisters were standing there staring wide-eyed at what had once been his bedroom door. The door now lay in splinters on the hall carpet. Billy looked at Karen.

"What happened?" Billy asked.

"I don't know. Billy, look."

He followed his sister's gaze back down to the carpet. At first he didn't see it, but then he did and the sight made his stomach contract in fear. He hadn't seen it at first because the hallway was dim, but he could now see small droplets of blood on the carpet. Samantha had stepped to the doorway and was staring blankly into the room.

"I don't want to be here," was all she could say.

Karen moved up behind her sister and looked in, and a terrific scream rose out of her body. Without thinking Billy pushed his sisters out of the doorway, partly to protect them from whatever may be in the bedroom, and partly so he could see for himself. What he saw was his mother lying on his bed, and you didn't need a doctor to tell you that she was no longer amongst the living. Samantha started to sob.

Someone could still be in the house, he thought.

"Let's go! We have to get out of the house!"

He grabbed Samantha's hand and led her to the top of the stairs. Karen stood where she was, unmoving.

"Karen, come on!"

She shook her head and turned her gaze to her brother, looking like someone coming out of a terrible dream.

"Karen, now!"

This time she responded and started moving. The three of them leaped down the stairs. As they turned to the door that would lead them out of the house some horrible thing decided to make it's presence known. There was no spectral figure, no ghostly sound of rattling chains. Instead there was a sudden wash of cold, the kind of cold you can feel in your bones, and it stopped the three siblings dead in their tracks.

"What is it?" Karen asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

And then that coldness moved, seemed to rush at them. Billy still had Samantha's hand in his right one, and now with his left hand he grabbed ahold of Karen's hand, and he practically dragged them after him. Again he was acting on instinct, there simply wasn't time to plan the next move. He led his sisters to the door at the head of the basement stairs. He let go of Karen's hand and threw the door open.

"Go down!"

He let go of Samantha's hand, and Karen grabbed it. The girls ran down the steps as fast as they could. With one foot on the second step and one on the third Billy slammed the door behind him.

---

In the darkness: "Is it gone?"

"I don't know, Karen."

Billy was standing in what he thought was the center of the basement. He reached up and searched for the string to turn on the light. After a moment he found it. The light was bright and at first he had to squint against it.

"I want Daddy," Samantha said.

Karen took her sister in her arms, lifted her and held her tight.

"Shh," she soothed her sister.

Billy stood at the foot of the stairs staring up at the door.

"Why didn't it break through?"

"Huh," Karen asked. Samantha had her face buried in her big sister's shoulder, sobbing.

"You saw what it did to my bedroom door, why didn't it break through the basement door?"

"Maybe it's gone. Maybe it left."

There was an explosion of wood as the basement door crashed inward. Karen screamed as Billy sailed against the wall with a sickening thud. That cold presence turned it's regard to Karen. She turned and ran, realizing too late that she had nowhere to run to.

What do I do?

In the corner she saw something that caused a wave of hope to rise within her. It was the axe her father used to cut down a pinetree every Christmas. She set Samantha down despite Samantha's protests. She grabbed the axe---

It's so heavy!

---and gripped it in both hands. The cold was behind her, about to pounce. She could feel it. She turned and swung the axe with all her might. Then the cold enveloped her and she slipped into unconsciousness.

---

It waited. It waited for The Man to come home. And he would be home soon, it thought. It could think, though it's thoughts were insane. It could think. And it could wait. It had all the time in the world.

---

She awoke in a stark white room. It had the antiseptic smell of a hospital. Had she been in an accident? She couldn't remember what had happened, but in time she would. In time she would remember everything.

After a time she realized that she was handcuffed to the bed. Why? On several occasions uniformed men came in to ask her questions that she didn't quite understand.

Why did you do it, Karen?"

"Did you use the axe? We couldn't find any blood on it. Did you clean it when you were done?"

"Why did you hurt yourself, Karen? Was it because of the guilt?"

She didn't know what to tell them. She just wanted to know where her family was.

---

The teenage girl writhed on the floor of the jail cell and moaned as if she were in terrible pain. Suddenly, she bolted upright, her eyes wide, her arms flailing at an invisible enemy. "It's here!" she screamed. "It's come again for me!" The police officer who had been posted to observe the girl shook his head sadly at her hysterical screams. He did not believe her tales about the presence. Then, before the officer's startled eyes, livid teeth marks began to appear on the girl's upper arms and shoulders.

The girl let out a deep animal scream, a scream from the depths of her soul; the kind of scream that could turn the stomach of anyone who heard it. Her arms continued flailing around, as if she were trying to fight off Hell itself. Blood streamed out of the wounds on her arms and shoulders as a new gash opened up on the left side of her face. Her teeth showed through the gash, perfect and white.

Officer Banner finally broke free of the paralysis that had overcome him and had prevented him from responding. He opened his mouth to call for help, but at first only a croak escaped his throat. Then he found his voice.

"I need help!" he yelled. "Hey, I need help in here!"

He unhooked the key ring from his belt. His fingers were numb as he tried to sort through the keys. He couldn't find the right key. He couldn't find the key, and the girl was going to die in that cell.

My God, she's dying. This can't be real, he thought.

"Please! Help me!" the girl screamed, pleading for his help, but his stupid fingers were fumbling with the keys, and he couldn't find the right one. If he could just find it.

Please let me find it. Please.

The girl's prison jumpsuit was torn apart and deep cuts opened up on her belly, new blood welling up out of them. One of her sneakers came off of her foot and sailed against the cell wall with a thud.

"Something's happening here!" Officer Banner shouted. "I need help! Please!"

The screaming. Oh, please stop that screaming.

He found the key just as Officer Handey came storming in, the crumbs of his lunch still on his chin.

"What's all this racket? It's sounds like someone's being murdered in h-" Officer Handey stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes fell on the girl in the cell. If it hadn't been for all of the gashes and the blood he might've thought she was having an epileptic seizure. "Jesus Christ! What's going on?"

"I don't know," Officer Banner said. He went to the cell door. At first he couldn't get the key in. He nearly dropped the key ring, but he finally found his mark. He turned the key and heard the cell door unlock with a dull clanking sound.

At that moment the girl was picked up off the floor as if by the hand of some invisible giant. With a squeal of hinges Officer Banner pulled the cell door open, and as he did so the girl was flung against the back wall. As her body met the cold stone there was a terrible sound, the sound of a person being broken. By the time she fell facedown onto the cot she was already dead.

Officer Banner rushed to the girl's side and turned her over. Blood had trickled out of her nostrils and her eyes were half closed, just the barest hint of her irises visible. He felt for a pulse and found none.

"She's...," he began, but didn't finish.

- - -

A week after the incident the officers were sitting together at a booth in a greasy spoon diner. They'd both ordered burgers with the works, but neither had eaten much. From the looks of them, neither had slept much lately either. After recounting their bizarre tale to their superiors, both men had been put on temporary leave and it had been suggested (strongly suggested) that they seek professional psychiatric help. Surely, it was said, they had not seen what they'd claimed to have seen. There were a few people who would always think that they'd killed the girl, that they'd gotten away with murder.

Handey looked up at his longtime friend with haunted, red-rimmed eyes.

"You know, it could've been worse. It could've happened to some innocent person."

Banner didn't respond. He just stared down at the plate of food he knew he wouldn't eat.

"I mean, she was a murderer," Handey said. "She killed her whole family. If it had to happen to someone, better it happened to a murderer than to some random person. Right?"

His voice almost broke with that last word. He need to be comforted, to be reassured that it hadn't been as bad as it could've been, and though Banner was no longer sure that the girl had really killed her family (he remembered hearing her say here he comes again, again being the operative word), he said, "Right."

Handey's eyes seemed to brighten a bit. He'd heard what he'd needed to hear, what would help him sleep at night. After an internal struggle, Banner asked a question he'd been wanting to ask since that day.

"When we were in there, did you feel anything?"

"I don't think so. How do you mean?" Handey picked up a fry and tossed it into his mouth.

"Something strange. Something that didn't belong."

Handey only stared at him blankly, and suddenly he felt foolish for asking.

"Never mind. It was just a stupid thought."

Officer John Banner would never tell anyone, but when he'd been at the girl's side checking her pulse he'd felt something brush against him. Something icy cold.

(here he comes again)

For the rest of his life he would be convinced that he knew something of Death. It was cold. And it was hungry.