“Can you dig the hole while I’m getting the leaves?”
“Sure. Where do you want it?” Bob asked.
“Right here,” Alan said. He pointed to a spot a few feet past the wood they’d laid for the fire.
As instructed, Liz parked at the side of the road. If something went wrong, they would use Bob’s SUV to make the run to the hospital. Liz and Joe walked hand in hand up the dark drive towards the barn light and stopped at the edge of the white powder that made a line across the driveway.
“What’s happening, Mom?” Joe asked. His voice sounded tired and slurred.
“We’re going to do a Halloween play, Joe,” Liz said. “Your dad set it up. It’s going to be very spooky, but it’s all for fun, okay?”
“Is that real blood?” Joe asked. He was looking down at the burgundy streak across the driveway. It looked shiny in the glow from the light mounted to the front of the huge barn.
“You have to ask your father,” Liz said.
They heard footsteps coming down the shed hall. Alan appeared, looking very serious.
“You guys ready?” Alan asked.
“I was just telling Joe about the play,” Liz said.
“Do we get candy at the end?” Joe asked.
Alan pasted a big smile on his face before he answered. “Yes, lots of candy when we’re done.” Alan realized that they’d discussed everything except what to tell Joe about the evening’s events. “Joe, you come with me to the Cook House. Your mom is going to start everything and we’ll join in later.”
Alan put out his hand. Joe was reluctant to let go of his mom’s grip, but she nudged him towards Alan.
“Are we going to have a bonfire?” Joe asked as they walked towards the Cook House. The roof of the Cook House blocked the barn light—the interior was a deep shadow. Alan flipped on the light. The bulb hanging in the fixture seemed weak and yellow. The lower half of each wall was wood, but the tops were panels of screen. It was pleasant in the summer, but this time of year it almost felt colder in the little building than out in the driveway.
“Yup,” Alan said. He glanced back at his wife. She stepped gingerly over the line of borax and walked along the trail of blood towards the house. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “It’s nice out tonight. Mom said we have to go to Portland tomorrow. Is it because I’m sick?”
“Yup,” Alan said. “They want to run some tests on you and the best machine is down in Portland. It’s one of those big MRI machines.” Alan held open the door and Joe walked in. They’d already put away the folding chairs, but the picnic benches were still inside. Joe sat down on one end and Alan took the other. “For the MRI, you have to lie down on this long table and then they slide you in to this big ring. It makes a lot of noise, but you don’t feel anything. The machine just sends out tiny magnetic waves that jiggle the water molecules in your body and then use the response to produce an image.”
“Have you had it done?”
“Yes. You remember when I had my appendix out?”
“Kinda.”
“They did an MRI on me to make sure that it needed to come out. You really don’t feel anything.”
“I think I’ve seen it on TV,” Joe said. “What’s mom doing?”
“She’s starting the play,” Alan said. “It’s a big Halloween tradition around here, so we thought we’d give it a try. I’m not sure how scary it will be, but I guess we’ll all find out together. Just remember—I’m right here, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t get scared very easily, Dad,” Joe said. “You and Mom jump more than I do when we watch movies.”
“This isn’t happening on TV, bud,” Alan said. He tried to smile.
Across the driveway, over near the bulkhead, Bob was standing just outside the line of borax, watching Liz work. She was crouched near the doors. Folded back like that, the doors looked like arms that wanted to gather Liz down the granite steps into the cellar to hold her in the dark. Liz chanted the strange syllables from the book. The sound swept over to Alan and Joe on the wind.
“Mom read that old book all day,” Joe said.
“Yeah?” Alan asked. His eyes were locked on the black hole that led down to the house’s cellar. The book said that the migrators would be visible during the process. Alan didn’t see anything.
“I slept a lot,” Joe said. “I’ve been so tired ever since those pancakes. Do you think there was something in them?”
“No,” Alan said. “I had the pancakes too.”
“What’s she doing?”
“The play—I told you,” Alan said.
“Yeah, but what is she doing?”
Liz backed away from the bulkhead. She held her hands in front of her and they were white—dusted with the borax. Her feet slid carelessly through the path of blood as she backed up. Her attention was focused on dead grass in front of her. The pace of her chants increased. The wind blew hard and shifted direction. It rattled the windows in the barn.
When Liz was about fifteen feet from the bulkhead, still backing up, she waved to Bob. He scattered some borax across the path leading from the bulkhead and then swung the doors shut. They banged closed with a metal finality. Liz stepped up to the asphalt.
Alan and Joe could hear the chanting clearly now. It sounded guttural and strange.
“Zy-enn al chook schoon deez oom khaloon,” Liz said.
I wonder if it matters what she’s saying, Alan wondered. Could those things really understand any language, or are they just animals?
Alan stood and leaned close to the screen wall. The things Liz was backing away from were invisible to him, but she certainly seemed to be focused on something.
“I’ll be right back, Joe,” Alan said. “You stay in here until I come get you, okay?”
“Sure,” Joe said.
The door squeaked as Alan pushed his way out. Liz continued her slow march backwards along the line of blood and between the boundaries of borax powder.
Bob approached. He had a box of Borax in his hand. It was one of the old boxes from the shop.
“Is it working?” Alan whispered to Bob.
Bob nodded.
“Come here,” Bob said. He pulled Alan right next to the borax path, so his toes were almost touching the line of powder across the asphalt. A gust of wind blew so strong that it almost shoved him over the line. Alan caught his balance. The borax didn’t seem perturbed by the wind at all.
“Now lean over and look down towards your wife,” Bob said.
Liz was still backing slowly towards the bonfire, chanting the phrases over and over. She was a few paces away from Alan and Bob.
Alan leaned over the borax, as Bob instructed. When his head crossed the plane of the powder line, he saw. He couldn’t imagine how Liz kept her sanity in the face of what she was staring at. Just inches from her outstretched hands, three of the migrators crept forward as she inched backwards. Their purple and yellow bruised bodies seemed to glow in the light from the barn. If they were to stand, they’d probably be as tall as a man, but they didn’t stand. They crawled across the ground on their hands and feet. Their elbows and shoulder blades made sharp points and the naked muscles of their buttocks were clenched. As they crept, they would raise a foot and silently swing it forward, even with their hands before putting it back down.
Liz kept chanting but glanced up at Alan. Her eyes were filled with terror.
At her glance, one of the creatures turned its faceless head back. Its body pivoted in an instant and it sprang towards Alan.
He jerked himself back. As soon as his face crossed the plane of borax, the creature was invisible again. He imagined its bruised body just on the other side of the line and he took a step backwards.