It was at this point that he grabbed my hand in his, gripping me tighter than I would have thought possible given his condition. His other hand he placed on my shoulder with a force that almost made me fall to the floor.
“Very soon you will see. So know this also. This responsibility does not end with you. Upon your death the curse will pass on to your oldest son, and upon his death to his oldest son. Your burden will not be released until these makers of trouble are no more.”
Then he uttered a series of words in a language I have never heard before or since. Nonsense words, I first thought, but as he spoke, his hands began to glow. Light filled my cabin until I was almost blind, like a thousand candles all burning at once directly in front of my eyes. And as the glow grew, heat rushed into my hand from his and filled my body with fire.
I wanted to yell out for help. I wanted to run and throw myself into the ocean. But my feet would not move and my lips would not part.
“I pass to you the power you need to fight them,” his voice thundered in my ears. “But be aware, it will never make you invincible.”
If at all possible, the glow grew even more intense. I don’t know how long it lasted but when it finally died, leaving only the flicker of a single candle on my table, the man was gone.
I tried to pretend that nothing had happen, that I had somehow had a dream. But the next morning, my crew could find the man nowhere. Even his things were gone. The only thing left was a letter addressed to me. I have included it in this envelope to you. As you will see, it was enough to convince me what had happened was not a dream.
Still, when we reached Boston, I had no intentions of staying. I wanted to finish my business and return home as quickly as possible. But I had only been there a day when the first child showed up. Then a week later, another, and ten days after him, a third.
I wondered how they found me, and when I asked each this, their stories were as wild as the one the old man had told me. They had received instruction on how they could locate me in ways that I found fantastic and impossible. But, at that point, I had already started to believe and could not deny that their stories might be true. Over the years, as you know, we have learned this curse we have been given — this responsibility — is the thing that guides these children to us.
The old man was right. I have never gone back. And now, my son, you must bear the responsibility that began with me. I only hope that someday these creatures of evil disappear from our world, and our family can be released from this heavy burden.
Thomas Leatherwood
18
Eric twisted and turned in his sleep, his dreams nearly as active as the day he’d just lived through. In his mind he saw ships, and storms, and glows that filled rooms, and airplanes, and car chases, and helmet scanners. And though he had never seen one, he saw Makers. What his mind decided they looked like, anyway. They were hideous, with troll-like heads, and bodies as thin as a piece of rope. They smiled at him, they laughed at him, they waved for him to join them. But he wouldn’t give in.
Relax, Eric. It was the sing-songy voice from that afternoon. Don’t worry about anything. It’ll all be fine. It’ll all be fine. It’ll all be—
“No!” he yelled, jerking himself awake.
Where am I? This wasn’t his bed. This wasn’t his room.
His body seemed to be moving in slow motion as he struggled to push his blanket down to his waist. He could feel sleep waiting to drag him back under, but for some reason he knew he couldn’t let it.
Wake up! he told himself. Wake up!
He forced his eyelids all the way open, then swung his legs off the cushions and planted his feet on the floor.
The slumber party. I’m…I’m at Maggie’s.
“Wake up,” he said, the words actually coming out of his mouth this time.
Sleep began to fade, and he no longer had to fight with himself to move anything.
Those had been some powerful dreams. They were the kind of dreams that made you feel even more tired after having them than if you had just stayed awake.
He caught sight of the digital clock on the receiver by the TV. Twelve forty-nine a.m. He groaned.
Maybe a glass of water will settle my brain down.
Just enough moonlight seeped in through the windows for him to make his way into the kitchen without turning on any lights. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the automatic water dispenser in the refrigerator door. It let out a low whisssssh as the water streamed out.
Once his glass was full, he raised it to his lips and started to drink. But as the first gulp passed into his mouth, he realized the whissssshing hadn’t stopped.
He looked back at the dispenser, expecting to see water pouring onto the floor, but there was nothing coming out of the spout. He cocked his head. The noise wasn’t coming from the refrigerator. It was coming from…
…outside.
As he took a step toward the kitchen window, the sound stopped. He stood there for a moment, waiting, but all remained quiet. Must have been a bug.
He was just about to raise the glass again when the whisssssh returned. It lasted for five seconds, stopped for a few, then started again. Only it wasn’t as much of a whissssh as it was a hnnnnnff.
He tiptoed to the counter and quietly set down his glass. Leaning forward, he pulled the edge of the curtain back just enough so he could peek outside.
Moonlight bathed the backyard, allowing him to see everything from the swing set Maggie didn’t use anymore to the big tree in the center of the yard. He could even see Mr. Ortega’s tool shed in the far back corner. Other than that, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
The noise started up again. Only now, Eric could hear that it really wasn’t so much a hnnnnnf as a snnnnniffffff.
He dropped the curtain, and froze.
Outside, directly below the window, he had seen the top of a head. And though the moonlight wasn’t strong enough to tell the color of the person’s hair, the greasy mess couldn’t have belonged to anyone other than Peter Garr.
Slowly a shadow in the shape of Peter’s head appeared on the curtain.
Snnnnniffffff.
The head turned to the right.
Snnnnniffffff.
And to the left.
Snnnnniffffff.
It tilted down and hovered right by the crack at the bottom.
Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.
Eric took a silent step backwards.
Outside, the sniffing paused, and then: snnnnniffffff, snnnnniffffff.
Eric raced out of the kitchen and into the hallway that bypassed the dining room. At one end was the front door and potential escape, while at the other was the intersecting hallway that led back to the bedrooms. The Trouble sisters were back there and now, more than ever, he needed their help. So that was the way he went.
There were three doors off the hallway: a bathroom, Maggie’s parents’ room, and Maggie’s room. Like her parents’ door, Maggie’s was shut, but Eric didn’t even hesitate. He opened her door and rushed inside.
Since her room was located at the front of the house, and not in the direct path of the moonlight, it was much darker than the living room had been. For half a second he thought about flipping on the light, but he didn’t. If Peter came around to the front, he would be sure to see it.