“Do you have anything else that belongs to my son?” Alan asked Pauline.
The little girl looked up at Alan and nodded slowly. Alan had Joe’s clothes all bunched together and held them to his chest with one arm. He held the other hand out to Pauline. He looked up. Rick stood in the doorway. The other man was moving slowly but picking up speed to circle the fire. The men didn’t seem to know what to do with Alan.
“Mommy?” Pauline asked.
“Yes, honey,” the woman sitting on the floor under the window spoke. “Yes, they’re almost here.”
The other guy—the one circling the fire—stopped when the woman spoke. He backed up towards the wall behind him.
“Do you have anything else of Joe’s?” Alan repeated.
Pauline turned to look up at Alan. Her eyes reflected the fire—they seemed to glow orange and red.
“I’ll give it back when he’s my husband, you devil,” Pauline said.
Alan took a small step backwards.
How silly of me to think that I was demonstrating authority, he thought.
“Whatever you have,” Alan said, “give it to me.”
“You’re not my father,” the girl said. “They are.” She pointed towards Rick. He looked as confused as Alan felt. Rick looked around. He looked everywhere except at Pauline’s pointing finger.
Rick’s shadow from the firelight, dancing through the doorway on the front porch, began to grow. Alan couldn’t take his eyes from it. Rick’s shadow swelled and bulged until it filled the whole trapezoid of light projected out from the cabin. The shadow reached dark hands around Rick’s midsection. Rick began to scream.
Alan clutched Joe’s clothes to his chest. He watched Rick try to move out of the way, but shadowy arms held him in place. They held him up as other shadows consumed him. Beginning at his hips, the shadows dissolved Rick’s uniform pants and his shirt. They ate into his skin and Rick turned his shouting face upwards.
Alan looked to the windows. At each one, darkness spilled over the sills. Pools of darkness settled to the floor and spread around the perimeter of the room. At the back wall, the other man slid down to a seat and hugged his knees to his chest. He put his hands over his ears to block out the sound of Rick’s screams.
The screaming stopped soon enough. Rick’s ribs were visible where his shirt used to be and a shadow slipped over his face. For a second, Rick looked somewhat like the faceless creature that Alan had seen in the marsh. His head was a smooth, dark shape. Seconds later, a pile of bones and organs collapsed in the threshold of the door. With the echoes of Rick’s screams fading away, a new sound filled the air. It was the sound of whipping wind and low murmurs.
The shadows passing through the window parted around the woman. She stood up and walked towards the fire. Alan looked down and saw the shadows swirling around her feet.
“I’ve never seen them like this,” the woman said. She was nearly shouting to be heard over the sound of gusting air. Despite the sound, the air inside the cabin looked still. She pushed a dirty tangle of hair away from her eyes.
Alan glanced to the other man who had been sitting against the back wall. All that was left was another pile of bones and organs. The man hadn’t made a single sound as the phantoms consumed him.
“I don’t want any part of this,” Alan said. His eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. “And I don’t want you using any of my son’s things either.”
“He’s been promised to my daughter,” the woman said.
“No,” Alan said. “By whom?”
She raised her arms in an exasperated shrug. The little girl—Pauline—raised her arms and dropped them, mimicking her mom’s gesture. When her jacket lifted, Alan saw a folded piece of paper sticking from her back pocket. He was still close enough that he might reach that paper, but then what? Where could he go with these flesh-eating shadows spilling in through the windows and door?
“I thought Pauline’s mother was dead,” Alan said.
The wind sound rose to a crescendo and the murmurs sounded like shouts. The woman rubbed her tired eyes. The sound was still there, but it faded enough that Alan could hear what the woman said next.
“That’s just what they tell people. It’s a good enough explanation for why I don’t have time to take care of my kids anymore,” she said. She sighed. “Look—you’re still pretty young. Just put down the clothes and move along. We don’t need your cooperation, and there’s nothing you can do to stop what’s about to happen.”
Alan dove forward and plucked the piece of paper from Pauline’s back pocket. It unfolded as he pulled it back to the bundle of clothes—it was Joe’s apology letter. The shock on the face of Pauline’s haggard mother brought Alan a tiny smile.
Alan inched towards the window. The shadows were still spilling over the sill, but he thought maybe he could dive over them. He glanced back at the woman. She just stood there, looking shocked and tired and increasingly angry. Pauline stared up at her mother’s face. Alan looked back to the window and prepared himself for the leap.
“Alan,” she said. Alan glanced up. Her eyes were white with blinding light. She held her arms out, away from her body. Her fingertips were dissolving into white light. He couldn’t tell if she was rising up, or if it was just an illusion created by the light erupting from her toes. Her shoulder-length hair lifted from her head and stood out to the sides.
The shadows were driven up the walls. Alan looked back to the window—his escape route—and saw that a veil of shadow covered the opening.
“Drop the clothes, Alan,” the woman’s voice said. Her face was lost in the glare of the white light. Her dirty dress looked like it was lit from within. She grew brighter by the second. The light of the fire was dwarfed by her glow.
Pauline was entranced by the sight of her mother as she walked right through the edge of the fire to stand at her mother’s feet. She stared right into the bright light. Alan raised his arm to shield his eyes. He looked to the door. Above the pile of bones in the doorway, another dim screen of shadow blocked the exit. Overhead, even the top of chimney swirled with the odd shadows.
Alan took a step towards the glowing woman so he could move closer to the fire.
If I can’t escape, at least I can burn Joe’s clothes, he thought.
Movement caught Alan’s eye at the window behind the woman. A white object slid through the opening—it was the porcelain box from his own attic. The murmurs and sound of wind returned to their earlier strength.
“Go get help!” Alan screamed, hoping Bob could hear him.
The box bounced to the floor behind the woman. She didn’t seem to notice. She rose higher.
“Prepare yourself, Polly,” she screamed.
The little girl wasn’t paying attention. She saw the box and was moving towards it. Alan watched as Pauline crouched next to the box and touched the lid. She glanced up at her mother, but the woman was focused on Alan. Pauline fingered the latch and began to lift the lid. Her mother finally looked down.
“Prepare yourself,” the woman said as she looked. When she saw what her daughter was doing, her tone changed. Fear and anger flew from her mouth—“No, Polly! NO!”
It was too late. Pauline had opened the lid and was looking at the old bones nestled in their purple velvet. She fell back on her butt as a new shape rose from the bones. It was the woman in the pink hoop dress. As soon as she took shape, hovering over the old bones, she erupted in a white light a thousand times more dazzling than that of the other woman. Alan backed towards the wall, forgetting the hungry shadows that lurked there. The woman in the hoop dress burned so bright that it took the light from the other woman. She lowered to the dirt floor as her glow faded. Pauline’s mother fell to her knees and reached for her daughter.