The doorbell rang again. Bess collapsed on the carpet. This time the bell did not stop after one chime. It kept on. Someone was out there holding the button down. Her knees shook as she stood. One trembling step at a time, she went again to the door. Her fingers touched the knob just as the ringing cut off. Bess jerked her hand back and counted slowly to ten before turning the lock and pulling it open.
As before, the stoop was vacant. But there was something in the yard.
To the right of the steps, stuck down in what would have been landscaping if Bess ever had the gumption to tend her yard. That’s where she saw the dark shriveled head impaled on a bright white PVC pipe.
Her own head felt warm and numb. Without thinking, Bess stepped out toward the head. It was deformed. The eyes had been removed. Empty sockets glared at nothing. The rest of the face seemed misshapen. The skin was burnt black and deeply lined.
The sagging, terrible head slipped to the left as her fingers grazed its side, felt the soft, flimsy rubber. A mask. Not a head at all, but a dragon mask over a pipe stuck in her yard.
Inside, the phone was ringing.
Bess carried the mask in with her and dropped it just inside the house. She relocked the door and ran to where the phone lay, discarded on the carpet.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” she asked.
“I said I’d call. I’m calling.”
Bess knew this voice. She stayed quiet, trying to sort everything out.
“Hellllloooo? Bess, are you still with me? It’s Greg.”
“Greg?”
“Yeah. Hey, is everything okay?”
“No. I can’t talk to you right now.”
“Okay.” Greg paused. “Sorry I bothered you. You be good now.”
“What?”
“What?”
“Tell me what you just said and why you said it.”
“I didn’t say anything. I said I was sorry to bother you. I said to take care.”
“That is not what you said.” Her voice was a deep, thick tremble. Tears slid steadily down her cheeks.
“I don’t know… Are you okay?”
“Don’t call this number again.” Bess hung up.
The phone immediately rang, but Bess hit ignore. She turned the sound off and watched the screen light up, “Unknown Number” scrolling across the display.
The doorbell rang, but only for a second. It was replaced by a soft knock, low on the door, as if someone were rapping with their hands down to their sides or maybe on their knees. The knocks migrated slowly to her right, the unseen visitor moving along the side of her house, knocking lightly against the siding as they went. When the knocking approached the living room picture windows, Bess had the urge to run over and close the blinds and curtains, to block out whatever might appear there. The knocking continued. But now it was more like a tapping as it beat across the window—the distinct sound of knuckles against glass. And yet, Bess saw no one. Goosebumps broke out across her arms. Her phone screen remained dark. She quickly called 911.
A male operator answered, “911, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s someone here,” Bess croaked.
“What’s that? Where are you? Is there someone in your residence?”
“No, they’re… trying to break in. Please, send someone.”
No response.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Are you sure they want in?” The voice was distinct and clear in Bess’s ear. No background noise. “Maybe they want you to come out.”
Bess looked down at the phone. The knocking stopped. The silence in the room amplified, making her ears ring.
“Go outside, Margaret,” the voice on the other end shrieked. Bess ended the call and held down the power button.
She picked up the rubber dragon mask. It felt damp, but maybe that was her imagination, or a sensory deception based on the cool slick rubber. Bess slowly turned the lock and opened the front door just far enough to stick her hand through. She tossed the mask out into the night and slammed it shut behind her. Within seconds a deafening machine-gun knock reverberated through the house.
Bess pushed her back against the door to brace against the pounding and tried to catch her breath. Her hands shook. The knocks leached into her mind, short-circuiting her thoughts.
All the windows in the living room left too much liability, she was too easy to see, they were too easy to break, she was too easy to find. If only the knocking would stop so she could concentrate. Then an idea came to her. Slowly she raised herself to a crouching position and rushed toward the garage. She slammed the door behind her and looked around for something to barricade it. It locked, but from the inside. Grabbing the metal folding chair away from the radio table, she wedged it under the knob like she’d seen countless people do in movies. The only other way in or out was through the electric garage door and she’d kept that bolted shut ever since she stopped storing her car inside.
The sounds from the living room were muffled out there, but still audible. She stood in front of her radio, looking down on it as if it were holy. Soft static filled the space as soon as she clicked it on, further drowning out any noises from outside.
The floor was cold and hard against her butt as she lowered herself onto the ground. She couldn’t reach the radio from down there, but that was okay. The static was enough.
A sharp pain shot from the middle of Bess’s back up through her neck. She’d fallen asleep in the garage and her spine wasn’t thrilled about it. Something had drawn her out of her sleep, and that thing was nagging at her mind now, telling her to be alert.
Someone was knocking on the front door.
She had no idea what time it was. Standing gingerly, she stretched her neck—testing the muscles—rolling it from side to side. The moment she opened the garage door, bright sunlight poured in through the windows.
Someone was still knocking, but unlike last night, this knock didn’t seem so terrible. Nothing ever did in the morning. She cracked the door open. There stood Carol in all her corporeal glory.
“Let me in.”
“Hey.” Bess smiled and waved at her boss. She’d barely gotten the door open before Carol was fully through it. “What’s up?”
“It’s Friday,” Carol said. “I’ve been out here for ten minutes.” She seemed grumpier than usual.
“Jesus Christ, Carol. I was in the bathroom.” She didn’t know why she’d lied, it just felt right.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Go?” Bess asked, trying to make her mind accept that this was her reality—not a disembodied knock at her door and ghosts on her radio.
“Fuck, Bess. It’s Friday! Manager’s meeting. Are you suddenly new?”
Bess sighed. She’d forgotten their weekly meeting. They’d been having lunch at the same place every Friday for the last two years. Maybe she was losing her mind. No. She was under stress, not sleeping well. This wasn’t her fault. Not this time.
“I know what day it is,” Bess said. “Let me get my shoes on.”
Carol drove. She wouldn’t let anyone drive her anywhere. Bess assumed it was some sort of motion sickness issue, but she knew it could have just as easily been Carol’s complete inability to give up control. Bess stared out the window at the scenery moving past them. Same old Antioch. Same old businesses.
“Hey,” Bess said, something new catching her eye. “I didn’t realize we had a historical society.”
“Hm? Oh. It’s been here forever. It’s easy to overlook. They have a nice gift shop.”
“What kinds of gifts?” Bess asked, amused.
“I don’t know. Magnets, probably.”
“You think it’s a magnet shop?”
“Shut up. I have no idea. I just know they have a damned gift shop.”