Denny stepped onto the back porch and started for the woods beyond his backyard. There was an old picket fence separating his yard from the woods. The fence, once a glistening white, was now faded and chipped, missing several pickets. A feeling of sorrow momentarily replaced his anxiety when he remembered his father joking about calling the fence dentist to fix the broken “teeth.” So corny, but that was part of what made him such a great dad. His dad had fixed a few of the broken pickets that day and had let Denny bang in a few of the nails. Denny shook off the memory and slipped his thin frame through one of the gaps and stepped onto a trail that led through the thick, newly-budding bushes.
Beyond the trail the woods became dense and went on for miles. Denny had spent quite a bit of time out here and knew his way around. Today the woods seemed a bit darker and thicker than usual. He began walking, blaming his jitters on the fact that Bear was not by his side. “Bear, come on Bear!” he called occasionally. But even the sound of his own voice sounded eerie in the humid air. Narrow fingers of sunlight reached through the trees, creating shadows that shifted when a rare breeze whispered through. The normal sounds of the woods began to sound somehow threatening to Denny. “Bear, come on out now,” he called softer this time, afraid he was attracting unwanted attention.
A rustling noise up ahead stopped him in his tracks. The entire forest seemed to go silent. Denny was about to turn and run when a chipmunk darted across the trail. He suddenly realized he was holding his breath and exhaled a long sigh of relief. What was wrong with him, he wondered. First the cellar and now the woods. He decided to head home and ask the neighbors about his dog. As he made his way back he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had come over him since he saw the vacant walkway from his seat on the bus.
(5)
Denny yelled in to his mother and waited a moment for a reply. When none came he shook his head and started down the street. It seemed his mother was becoming more and more distant and he feared someday she would be gone, trapped in the world that she occasionally disappeared to. A world where his father and brother still lived.
The air remained hot and heavy even though the sun had begun to move lower in the sky. The trees, filling daily with more leaves, and greening lawns added to his feeling of loneliness without Bear by his side. It felt more like a late Indian summer day than it did early spring, the kind that made Denny ache with their beauty but sad in knowing it might be the last before winter. Something stirred in the bushes to his right and made him jump. It was just a cat, a sure sign that he was approaching Mrs. Lovell’s house. A few steps further Denny saw a couple more cats chasing each other across the street. By the time he reached the fence that lined Mrs. Lovell’s property, he could easily spot a dozen of them. Denny started up her walkway and began to feel uneasy. So many cats.
The Cat-woman was often the subject of lunchroom conversations and the stories ranged from weird and creepy to outright absurdity. Like stories about the Butcher, it was difficult to separate fact from fiction. The most common Cat-woman story was that she had killed her husband, or more specifically, had ordered her cats to kill him. It sounded so ridiculous most of the time, but now surrounded by them… if they wanted to, they could tear me apart, he thought.
Mrs. Lovell’s voice floated out the open door, “No, no it’s not time for dinner yet,” in that same voice he had heard yesterday, like she was talking to her grandchildren. Denny waited to make sure there would be no answer and then knocked on the door. Of course there is no answer; she was talking to one of the cats. She appeared at the door and smiled, “Look everyone; it’s Danny from up the hill.” Then the smile turned to a frown. “You don’t have that nasty beast with you, do you?”
“No ma’am, and it’s Denny.” The smell of cats drifting from the house was putrid, a pungent mixture of urine and cat food.
Now that her cats were in no danger, the smile returned. “Yes, Denny-the-dog and his master Danny, how lovely. What can we do for you Danny, is your mother well?”
Denny held back his grin. She can remember the names of a hundred cats and their birthdays but when it comes to people…
“She’s fine, Mrs. Lovell. The reason I’m here is I was wondering if you had seen Bea… my dog today?”
“No, but if I had you can bet I would have chased him off.” Then she moved quickly and (catlike) gracefully out onto the porch and added in a conspirator’s whisper, “He frightens the children you know.”
With the door open and Cat-woman closer to him, the smell of souring milk and dirty litter boxes was overpowering. Denny began to feel nauseous and light-headed. “Yes ma’am, he doesn’t mean to, he’s just being a dog.”
Three cats, one Siamese and two mangy looking gray and white ones were taking turns wrapping themselves around her legs. Others lined the porch railing and window sills. They all seemed to be staring at Denny.
“Would you like to come in and have some milk? I always keep plenty of milk around.” She smiled, but Denny thought even though her mouth was smiling, her eyes weren’t. Those eyes seemed to say, “Sure, I killed my husband, and I’ll kill you too if you give me a chance.”
Now some of the cats were beginning to rub against his legs. Denny felt like he was trapped in a dream. He pictured himself in that house surrounded by cats, drinking his milk (from a bowl) when Mrs. Lovell shouts, “He’s the one with that mean dog, children!” and all the cats jump on him, clawing and biting. He shivered in the hot afternoon air. “No thank you, ma’am. I think I’ll just keep looking for my dog. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye Danny, good luck.” She glided silently back into the house. As he walked back to the road he heard her voice, again with that song-like cadence, “Would you like to play for a while before dinner?”
As he paused at the end of the walkway, just for a moment he thought he heard several of the cats meow in reply. He glanced up the hill, then down, then at the position of the sun. He decided to walk down to Billy’s house and ask about Bear, and if he was lucky Julie would be home. He couldn’t figure out why she wasted her time with a loser like Dale Crawford. Julie was always so nice and Dale had been a raging asshole for as long as Denny had known him. As he made his way down the dusty road, that uneasy feeling began to creep up on him again. At least I have a reason to be nervous this time, he thought.
The reason, of course, was the old Greymore Place. Any solace in getting past Cat-woman’s house immediately jumped ship. Denny would have to walk past the boarded up house to get to Billy’s. Yesterday, it hadn’t been a big deal. It was just an old, creepy house with a scary history. But now, knowing Greymore was out of prison, maybe even back in Haven, made it a different story. Maybe he’s actually come home, Denny thought with a chill. The Butcher, that’s what they called him. Even though it all happened years before he was born, Denny knew about The Butcher, as did everyone else in Haven. Back in ’61 there was a series of murders in Haven, mostly children. Late that summer Chief Crawford himself (Officer Crawford back then) caught Paul Greymore red-handed with his latest victim still warm in his arms. Right behind the very house Denny was now approaching. The house had been closed up ever since but it still gave Denny the creeps just to walk past it so he quickened his pace as he neared it. The tall hedges surrounding the lawn were out of control. Although the grass was still brown from the winter, Denny could tell it hadn’t been cared for in years. As he passed the driveway, the house itself came into clear view. The faded paint, the sagging boards covering the windows, the rickety front porch: it all looked more menacing today. Denny noticed that even the graffiti that covered the house was faded and unreadable, and that the entire front of the house was covered with stains from the countless eggs thrown every Halloween. He speed-walked until he was safely past the house, never taking his eyes off it, as if it might grow legs and chase him.