Neighborhood Watch Page 10

  Toni, always Derek’s rock, squeezed his hand. He draped his arm around her shoulder, although, really, she was more-or-less supporting him.

  When the ceremony finished, Derek and Toni waited their turn to offer Kevin their condolences.

  “Kevin, we’re so sorry for your loss,” said Toni. “We really enjoyed having Katherine as a neighbor.”

  “She was a great lady,” piped in Derek.

  “Thank you both.” Kevin appeared cried out, now entering the surreal stage of disbelief. “It just happened so suddenly. Everything…”

  “I saw her out in the garden not too long ago, looking healthy…” Derek trailed off. The King of Foot In Mouthville is what Toni sometimes jokingly called him. But neither of them were in the mood to joke. “Anyway, we’re so sorry.”

  “She was healthy. That’s what’s so insane about the whole thing. Then over the past week or so, her health just went down. Fast. The doctors said she passed away from natural causes. Yet, she had a checkup last month and her doctor said she was healthy as a horse.” Kevin offered a heart-breaking smile. “An eighty-seven-year-old horse!”

  “I had no idea she was eighty-seven,” said Toni. “At least she lived a good, long life.”

  “I suppose. But her mind? It’d always been sharp. But in the last week it just became more and more erratic. I mean, what we found in her personal belongings at the hospital—” Kevin kicked at the leaves gathered at his feet, but Derek suspected the leaves were a surrogate for something else. Maybe someone else.

  “What did you find, Kevin?” Toni nudged Derek, her sign for him to shut the hell up. “Oh, sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. Just, it’s the damndest thing—”

  “Kevin, what—”

  Toni yanked Derek away from the conversation, a topic for another day. “Anyway, she’ll be missed.” Toni gave Kevin a hug.

  Turning away, they saw a row of gaudily dressed people standing several hundred feet away. Six figures dressed in T-shirts, shorts, and one telltale red hoodie. Carl tossed a beefy hand in the air. Derek afforded him the barest of nods.

  “I can’t believe those bastards showed up here.”

  “Derek, shhh. This isn’t the time or place for that.” Toni led him by the hand like a lost and frightened child through the cemetery. “At least they showed up.”

  “Yeah, right. They didn’t even show up for the service.”

  “And I see they dressed for the occasion.” She wore a derisive grin. Derek loved how she hated saying derogatory things about others, but sometimes not even she could pass up a great opportunity.

  Derek took one last look back at Kevin and his family talking to the priest. Hugs, sobs, anger at the universe. Legacies of death.

  Behind them, the six new kids on the block were full of frivolity and high-fives.

  Chapter Ten

  That night, Carl threw a party. A monster party that rolled out into the street. High-pitched shrieks of giddiness erupted from women, followed by exaggerated hoots and hollers from the men. Cars lined the street, a parade of the newest yuppie-mobiles on display. Thundering bass punctuated rock music from within the brick house.

  To Derek, it felt like a victory party. They had successfully dispatched another elderly neighbor.

  Eleven-thirty p.m. and most of the party attendants had taken it inside. Except for Carl and Scott, constantly posing against the minivan, yelling at one another even though they were only inches apart.

  “Gah!” Toni rolled over in bed, pulling the pillow over her ears. “I can’t sleep with that noise going on.”

  “Yeah, you know how they are. I’d call the cops, but they’d just as likely join the party.”

  She sat up, looked at him with a certain amount of empathy. “Do you want me to go talk to them?”

  Derek hadn’t undressed yet. He had no desire to enter that hornet’s nest again, but he certainly didn’t want Toni walking into it. No doubt she’d do it, too, while miraculously maintaining her integrity. But who knew what they’d say or do. “No, I’ll do it.”

  “Well, you’re the one with the rapport with them.”

  “Yeah, some rapport. Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Grumbling, Derek went downstairs. Everything else he’d done in the past hadn’t worked with them. Maybe this called for a different approach. Talk to them on their level.

  He sure as hell didn’t trust them. They’re up to something. But what exactly? Nothing could be proven. Nothing that didn’t sound crazy anyway. That damn word again. Crazy.

  Ever since his meeting with Dr. Farraday, self doubts piled up like wrecks in the demolition derby of his mind. He mentally ticked off everything the neighbors had done and most of it—all of it?—could be discounted as misunderstanding, or just plain uncouth behavior. Today’s youth aren’t nearly as mindful of others. He grinned to himself when he realized how he sounded like a cranky old man. Probably the same way his elderly (now all deceased) neighbors had once viewed him.

  A dead squirrel on the tree? Maybe kids did do that. And Scott had just found the eye. Katherine’s story about how they were trying to kill her? He hated to think it but had to embrace the possibility her mind had gone west in her waning days. The rest of their actions? Chalk it up to abhorrent behavior.

  What about the ghost in the basement? That, he couldn’t quite let go, yet. Perhaps totally unrelated to the neighbors, but he knew he’d seen Wilma Spencer. His memory—every thought, feeling, sound and rush of fear—was real. Or was it? Even the way he’d just posed the possibility—as a memory—could be open to interpretation. Funny how with the passage of time he considered it now a memory and not a physical encounter. To add to his confusion, he hadn’t been sleeping lately. Dr. Farraday implied lack of sleep could be a major factor in how he felt, what he saw. What he thought he saw.

  Goddamn therapy. Isn’t therapy supposed to make you see the world in a clearer light as opposed to shadows or clouded things? Yesterday, he knew the neighbors were conspiring against him and the old-timers. Now? It all seemed a little silly in hindsight.

  He shook his thoughts off for the task at hand. Grabbing two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, he popped the tops and stepped outside.

  Deep breath, I can do this.

  Carl and Scott hushed when they saw Derek approaching them. They remained that way until Derek spoke, holding out his peace offerings.

  “Hi, guys. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

  They nudged one another and smirked, their typical behavior.

  “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Have a beer on me.”

  Carl guardedly folded his arms, and Scott followed his lead.

  “It’s kinda late. I like a good party like the next guy, but my wife’s having a hard time sleeping and needs to go to work tomorrow.”

  Carl straightened, broad and tall as a professional football player. “So…what? You’re bringing us beers to shut us up?”

  “Guess I am.” Refusing to be intimidated, Derek thrust the beers at them again. “Here ya’ go.” A shriek came from the house, the bombastic bass still thumping away.

  “Well, hell, neighhhbor!” Scott stepped forward and grabbed the bottles. “I’ve never been one to turn down a brew.” He handed the other to Carl.

  “Where’s your beer?” asked Carl. “We’re not drinkin’ unless you do.”

  Obviously, they’d already been drinking. A lot. Empty bottles and cans littered the yard. Every voice emanating from the house was raised to an abnormal level. “Sorry, guys, I can’t. My wife’s waiting for me. Thanks, anyway.”

  “Wait. Thought you said your wife was tryin’ to sleep.”

  Scott feigned cracking a whip and giggled. “Pussy-whipped.”

  Derek sighed, used it as a defense to blow out his building agitation. “I’m not… I just would rather not drink this late.”

  “Oh, you gotta go to bed, too?”

  “I don’t want a damn beer. Okay?”

  Carl stepped forw
ard, thrusting his expansive chest out like a blockade of intimidation. “Oh. I see how it is. You’re too good to drink with us? That it? You come over here and look down your nose at us? Just too good for us, huh?”

  “Yeah! That it, neighhhbor?”

  Jesus Christ! They’re not gonna give up. Derek considered, thought they might possibly chill out if he drank a beer with them. They’ll never be friends, but at least a peaceful compromise might be found. “Okay. I’ll have a beer.”

  “’Atta boy!” Carl slapped Derek’s shoulder hard, pushing him back several inches. “Scott, run in the house and get our neighbor here a beer.” A look passed between them, one that gave Derek pause, followed by mutual grins. Scott dutifully vanished inside.

  “You know, my name’s Derek. Derek Winton.”

  Carl leaned his shaved head in, hand cupped around his ear. “What’s that?”

  Derek knew he heard him, more fun and games. “Never mind. Saw you at the funeral today.”

  “Oh yeah.” Carl took a healthy swallow from the bottle, followed by a wet-sounding thump when he released it from his lips. “Real shame. Real shame.”

  “Yeah, it was. It is.”

  Carl knocked his head back, bottle glued to his mouth, and followed it with an, “Ahhh! Good stuff.”

  As he stood in front of Derek, Carl clammed up. Just dug at the engine grease underneath his cracked fingernails, grinning like a loon. Derek wished Scott would hurry; it seemed like an eternity since he’d gone on his simple beer retrieval mission.

  Finally, Scott returned, proudly brandishing an opened bottle of beer. “Here ya’ go. Neighhhbor.”

  The two men watched as Derek took a swig. “Go on. Drink up.”

  Another female scream resounded from the house. Shadows danced behind curtains, a strobe light intermittently highlighting the action in chaotic fashion.

  “I, ah, really should be getting back inside. You guys don’t want an older guy like me holding you back.” They laughed at him, not with him.

  “Got that right.”

  “Whatever,” Derek said, under his breath. He slammed the rest of his beer.

  Carl gestured toward the house, lifting his eyebrows as if suddenly inspired. “Hey, you wanna come in? Join the party?” Scott sniggered.

  “No, really. I’ve gotta go.” A sudden sense of light-headedness touched Derek, akin to being in a high altitude environment. “Just, you know, keep it quiet and maybe move inside.” Dots of light teased the corners of his eyes. Dizziness swooped over him. Staggering, he reached a hand out. He stumbled forward until he fell against the minivan. A swirling kaleidoscope of colors filled his vision. “Don’t feel so good…” His voice sounded distant, displaced. Legs like rubber, he slid down against the minivan. Images blinked in and out; random snapshots from a hellish trip.

  Carl’s foghorn of a voice warbled above him. “Hey, buddy? You don’t look so good. Maybe we better take you inside.”

  “Yeah, come on.” Scott’s voice took on a preternaturally shrill pitch, a deranged bird from on high.

  Derek couldn’t find his voice. His tongue filled his mouth, too thick to speak around. Inside his chest, his heart skipped several beats, then triple-hammered. Unable to form a coherent thought, he knew a heart attack had come to claim him.

  Strong hands picked him up roughly. His arms hung at his side like dead weights as they dragged him across the driveway. He felt nothing but heard several thuds, the painful sounds of his body hauled up the front steps.

  “Look, everybody,” Carl roared. “Our neighbor across the street’s ready to join the party!” Laughter blistered and ricocheted off the walls.

  He lay on the ground. No, carpet. Derek rose to his elbows, plopped down again. His face burned, his flesh dripping from his skull. The strobe-light drilled holes into his brain. Sporadic light fell on bodies. Naked bodies. Bodies slithered around every piece of furniture, some on the floor like lizards. Arms entwined, legs wrapped until they melded, forming bastard creations. Two shrieking faces joined side by side, cheeks glued together. A naked woman with full breasts and erect male genitalia stood in a doorway. Moans of ecstasy and agony pierced the continuous laughter. A hand—no, a snake?—slinked down his back, caressing his buttocks.

  Carl’s demonic doppelganger lowered his face in front of Derek’s. “Welcome to the new neighborhood!” He pulled Derek’s head back, the whiplash making the room spin. Derek’s stomach heaved, his head throbbed. A woman screamed into his ear, draping her long wet hair over his face. He rolled over onto his back, forcing his eyes to focus.

  Carl hovered over him, now ten feet tall, with his shirt off. “Don’t fuck with us, bitch!”

  A naked woman sprang to her feet, multiple images chasing her across the room.

  Lifting his head, his eyes zeroed in on a fusion of flesh in the corner. Three people. Maybe one body with three heads and lots of limbs. Sandwiched in the middle writhed a blonde woman. His neighbor, Sunny.

  Then everything—blessedly—went black.

  * * * *

  Something wet lapped at his face. He must still be at the hellish orgy. Or had he dreamt it?

  Opening his eyes, bright light forced him to snap them shut again. He rolled over, hit the floor. Again, his cheek met with something wet and relentless. When he pushed the attacker away, his hand fell on fur. Patch sniffed at him, licking his face.

  “Good boy,” he croaked, his voice an old man’s. A very old man. He pulled himself onto the sofa and lay down, thanking God he was home. What happened?

  He sat up, even though it pained him to do so. Those bastards. Those crazy bastards must’ve spiked the beer they gave him.

  Something clanged in the kitchen, reverberating in his head. His body aching, he hauled himself to his feet.

  Toni stood at the kitchen counter, her back toward him, preparing her packed lunch.

  “Toni…” At first it was a whisper. “Toni.”

  She froze, her shoulders hunching up. An uncomfortable silence hung over the kitchen.

  “Toni…those sons-of-bitches drugged me last night.”

  She wheeled on him, rage in her eyes. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I’m not just saying it. It’s what happened!”

  Unable to look at her husband, Toni’s gaze focused on the floor. “That’s not what they said.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “You went over there at what, midnight? At three in the morning, the doorbell rang. Carl and Scott were holding you up between them. You were passed out!”

  “What? That’s not what happened—”

  “Surprised you can remember anything. You were so drunk I couldn’t even wake you!”

  “Toni, please. Let me tell you what happened. It’s not what you think.” He fell back against the door-jamb as dizziness threatened to overtake him again. “Can we please sit down?”

  Toni hesitated and then breezed by him. She sat on the sofa, still averting her eyes.

  “I went over there, told ‘em to be quiet. They gave me a beer. With something in it.”

  “One beer? That’s not what they said.”

  “So what did they say?”

  “They said you came over, started drinking heavily. Hitting the heavy stuff. They didn’t realize you were getting drunk. Carl thinks you might’ve had a bad reaction with the meds you’re on.” Derek couldn’t tell her he wasn’t actually on any medicine, as much as he wanted to. “They were nice as can be, very apologetic. I’ve never been more humiliated. Thanks a lot, Derek!”

  “Toni, listen to me!” He grabbed her hands. She recoiled. “They’re lying to you. You know me better than that. I didn’t even want to go over there, let alone drink with those psychos. Please, just give me a chance to explain!”

  She locked her gaze on his eyes, a sign she would at least go through the motions of listening. “Well?”

  “They offered me a beer. They must’ve put something in it. I got dizzy…sick. Couldn’t
see much. They dragged me inside. Toni, there was an orgy going on.”

  Toni snorted. “An orgy. You really expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes. Trust me. Please…”

  “Okay.” She hung her head, her eyes closed. “You say they drugged you. And they were having a wild sex party. Derek, I would love to believe you, but you know how this all sounds?”

  “It’s true, Toni.”

  “If they drugged you, if they did, how can you be sure what you saw?”

  Derek fell back into the sofa. The million-dollar question. Was it a hallucination? Brought on by drugs? Or worse, his failing mind? He rubbed his fingers over his bleary eyes. “Toni, I don’t know. I just know what I saw…”

  “You know?”

  “I think so. I’m not sure!” In the clear light of day, his hellish vision of sexual couplings seemed more unlikely, a fevered dream he couldn’t trust.

  “And if you think they drugged you, what are you going to do about it? Are you going to call the police?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Toni stood. “If you’re not going to call the police, then there’s nothing to be done about it.” Her voice lowered as she made for the front door. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  Derek rushed after her. “Toni, please. I know you don’t believe me. But, please, I’m not making this up. At least I don’t think I am. But I didn’t get drunk over there last night! Don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry. Disappointed, yes. And scared.” He reached out to hug her as she quietly closed the door in his face.

  “Me, too, Toni. Me, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Derek had forgotten something, something important. Couldn’t put his finger on it. Understandable, especially since his head felt like a bag of sand. Standing on his back deck, he used Katherine’s house as a focal point to help cohere his thoughts. Funny (maybe not so much) how the house resembled a tombstone commemorating the woman who had lived there. The two upstairs windows stared back at Derek, empty vacant eyes longing to be filled with life again. Venetian blinds were pulled shut on the lower, centered window, gritted teeth in a scowl.