He had his answer in another minute. Without warning, another volley of spear arrows flew in staggered rows. A few of them spanged off the sides of the truck or flew over without hitting, but enough of them impacted to shake the vehicle. One punctured the hood close enough to his hand to numb his fingers from the vibration.
Seconds ticked by while Dennis tried to shift without breaking anything. Three rounds of arrows, that was it. Or was it? Who knew what she'd done to the place since he'd left?
Anyone who hadn't been expecting the volleys would certainly be dead. As it was, Dennis counted himself more than lucky to have escaped with just a few scratches. His entire body ached from being squeezed between the truck and garage door, but he could deal with that.
He drew in a breath to suck in his gut and wiggle free. Around the side of the truck, he pulled open the door all the way. He'd already psyched himself into finding her torn and bloodied, so for the first few seconds that's what he saw -- Kelsey's arrow-shredded flesh.
When she uncurled herself from the passenger-side floor and launched herself into his arms, Dennis staggered back. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a woman in his arms this way, all hair and soft skin, arms and legs wrapped around him. She sobbed a breath into his ear. His name. He held her close.
"Hey, hey," Dennis said. "It's going to be okay."
Kelsey relaxed her grip on him enough to let her feet touch the ground. She looked into his face, her eyes wide and mouth trembling. "I wish I could believe that."
He did, too.
37
Dennis had pulled a small first aid kit from the truck's glove box, and Kelsey used the antiseptic wipes to clean the number of small scrapes all over him. She didn't have a single one, a fact she found astounding, considering how many of those arrows had ended up inside the truck's cab. She tried to be tender, but it had to hurt him. He took the sting without a grimace.
"Can't you tell her it's you?" She asked quietly when she'd dabbed away the last bit of trickling blood and wiped her hands clean. "Won't she let you in?"
The door from the garage into the house looked normal enough, but Dennis had shown her that it was made of metal and required a passcode to open. He knew the code, but they needed to get ready for what waited for them inside. Based on what she'd seen already, Kelsey wasn't at all sure she was ready for it.
"It won't matter. Besides, she has to know it's me."
"She has cameras?" Kelsey packed up the first aid kit carefully, thinking they'd probably need it again, and that was if they were lucky enough that a few bandages and some antiseptic cream could take care of whatever happened to them.
"Yes." Dennis ran a finger over the scrape on his neck.
"But she won't let you in?"
He laughed and shook his head. "Mom and I had a falling out, you could say. She told me when I walked out the door, not to come back."
"But...this is different, isn't it?" Kelsey was no stranger to the weird ways families could "love," that was true. But if she hadn't killed the bitch who'd been her grandmother, she was sure the old woman would've let her back in the house when it looked like the world was ending. She never would’ve gone, of course. But if she had, Grandma would’ve taken her in.
"This is what she's been waiting her whole life for. Something like this. If I'd been in there with her, that would've been one thing. But since she's in there and I'm out here..." he shook his head again. "She'll assume I'm part of it."
"Even if she sees that you're okay? You're not sick or anything."
"Especially if she thinks I look okay." Dennis stood. "Ready?"
"Not really."
Dennis frowned. "You could stay here. The garage should be safe now --“
She stopped him with a look. Dennis sighed and scrubbed at his hair again. He looked toward the door to the house, then back at her. He nodded, just slightly.
"You need to stick close. You won't have to run much. But you have to be ready to duck or swerve. You have to agree to do what I say, whenever I say it, how I say it. Immediately, no questions." His voice got hard. "If I say get down, you get down, you hear me?"
Kelsey smiled. "Sounds kinky."
Dennis looked surprised. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple shifting up and down. She took pity on him and patted his shoulder to keep him from thinking too hard on what she'd said -- it hadn't been a come-on. Well. Not mostly.
"C'mon," she told him. "Let's get inside."
At the door, she stood behind him with her weight on her good foot. The gash in the bad one throbbed, though less than it used to. She could stand on it, if she had to. She'd suffered worse than this.
Dennis climbed the two wooden steps to the door and tapped a few numbers into the keypad. Then a few more. Nothing happened, but he didn't seem surprised. He added another set of numbers. Then he took one step down.
"Duck," he said mildly.
Kelsey ducked. The metal door creaked open, revealing a shadowy hallway beyond -- and a burst of flame that shot out from the doorframe. Hot enough to singe her hair, it barely missed her. The next time Dennis told her to duck, she thought with a strange clarity, she'd make sure she ducked all the way down.
"Good?" Dennis asked from his position to the side of the door. He reached up to fiddle with the metal tube attached to the top of the doorframe. That's where the fire had come from.
The stink of gasoline made her cough, but she nodded. She patted her hair. Knowing it didn't matter how she looked didn't make a difference. She'd spent the last few years of her life making sure she looked good. It was habit, maybe a bad one.
Dennis studied her for a moment. "I'm not sure what we'll find inside. But if something happens to me..."
"What will happen to you?" So far he'd managed to avoid everything this house and his mother had thrown at them.
Dennis shrugged. "I don't know. But if it does, and you meet up with Mom, you need to know the code word."
"Why would she believe it from me if she won't even believe in you?"
"It's 'abattoir.'" Dennis ignored her question. "Tell her that."
"And she won't kill me?" Kelsey gave him a grim smile.
"Well...she might still try."
"How reassuring." Kelsey looked past him into the hallway. "You grew up in this house?"
Dennis followed her gaze. "Yes."
"Like this?"
"It got worse as she got older," he told her. "But...mostly. Sort of. Yes."
Impulsively, Kelsey got up on the step next to him. She kissed his mouth, soft and swift, not with passion so much as compassion. His hands went to her hips as though on their own -- at least he seemed surprised by his own actions. He didn't kiss her back, and when she pulled away, he wouldn't meet her gaze.
"You turned out all right, Dennis. You're going to get us through this. I trust you."
He coughed lightly, fingers squeezing her hips before he let her go. "Stay close."
Inside, the hall looked like any normal corridor in any normal house. Several overhead fixtures, dusty but bright enough, showed off pictures in frames. Portraits, mostly. She spotted a few of Dennis with a gap-toothed grin. One of him holding up a gun. Several of him with a slight woman who must be his mom.
They took three slow steps before they reached the first door, on their left. Just beyond it was another door to the right, and at the end of the hall, a room with a jog in it that looked like it led to a kitchen. Dennis centered himself in front of the door to the left. He kicked, hard, and the door splintered in the frame before it opened.
Kelsey yelped, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Dennis didn't even look. He stepped inside the room, out of sight, then back out.
"Clear," he told her. "Laundry room."
"She didn't rig the laundry room 'cuz it's a terrible enough place," Kelsey murmured. A joke seemed entirely inappropriate right now, which was of course why it came out.
Dennis snorted softly. "Yeah. Powder room up to the right. Do you need to use it?"
"Um
m...yeah. I do." She'd been trying to ignore the twang and ping of her bladder, but now that he'd asked it would be impossible. "Can I do that?"
Dennis looked at her. "Of course."
He kicked that door open too, then gestured for her to enter. The small room had been painted in bright pink and green, with fluffy guest towels and a pedestal sink next to a pristine white toilet. The toilet paper had been folded into a point.
She looked at him.
Dennis shrugged.
By now, Kelsey really had to go. "Are you staying in here?"
"Yes. I have to go too. But I'll turn around." He gestured at the toilet and did as he'd said, facing the doorway.
Kelsey didn't play with false modesty. She lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties and settled onto the seat with a sigh of relief that came from her toes. The splash of her urine rang against the porcelain, and she peed for what felt like forever. Then a little more. She used the toilet paper, but when she stood to pull up her panties, Dennis turned.
"Don't flush."
"Umm...okay?" Water conservation? Not wanting to make too much noise? She had no idea why he'd asked, but the deal was that if he told her to do something, or not to do it as the case might be, Kelsey's job was to comply. She stepped aside. "Can I wash my hands?"
"No. Wait. Umm, can you turn around?"
With a small smile, biting her lower lip, she did. She listened to him go, then the zip of his pants before she turned around again. Dennis gestured for her to move back.
He used a foot to push down the toilet handle. At first, nothing happened. Then, the pipes started to groan and rattle. The sink shook. Dennis backed up more, guiding Kelsey to the doorway just as a geyser shot up from the toilet bowl with such force it hit the ceiling and spattered down. A few drops hit her bare arm, and Kelsey screamed. Not with revulsion, but at the sting of boiling hot water. More water exploded from the sink faucets. Steam rapidly filled the room as they backed into the hallway.
Dennis looked at her. "You okay?"
She rubbed her arm. "Yes."
Inside the room, the water cut off abruptly. Dennis gently closed the door. He turned to look at her, and Kelsey burst out laughing. She tried to stifle it, mindful that they probably needed to be quiet, but...
"The toilet?" She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, helpless to stop the giggles. "She rigged the toilet?"
Dennis leaned against the wall across from her, shaking his head. He was laughing too. He covered his eyes for a moment before looking at her. "Crazy, right?"
"Why did you flush it?" Kelsey pointed toward the door. "I mean, if that's what set it off?"
Dennis looked toward the ceiling. "I'm tripping everything I know about, because everything's connected. One thing sets another in motion. If you don't set them off, something else goes into play, and I might not know what it is."
"It's like being in a pinball machine."
"Something like that," he said. "And it only gets worse."
For now it seemed like they were in no hurry to find the next booby trap, and Kelsey let herself relax against the wall across from him. "How did she do all this? I mean...I've heard of security systems, but this is over the top."
"She's brilliant, that's how. People paid her a lot of money over the years because of it, so she could afford to do whatever she wanted." For a moment, he looked grim. "You'd think money like that would make a person happy, but it only made her more convinced the world was turning to shit and she needed to be ready for it."
"She was right, I guess."
Dennis nodded. "Yeah. I guess."
"She did this herself, then?" Kelsey pointed down the hall and at the bathroom door again.
"I did some of it. She did most of it. I told you, she's brilliant. She can make anything work." Dennis sounded proud and embarrassed at the same time. "She was an electrical engineer. Worked with computers and software. She's a wizard."
"And you?"
"I'm not a wizard." Dennis pushed off the wall. "Let's go. Are you hungry?"
"Starving. Is it too much to hope that you'll be able to feed me in that kitchen?"
He shot her a grin over his shoulder. "I think I can find you something. But first we have to make sure it's okay."
Of course. What part of any of this would have convinced her otherwise? She followed him the rest of the way down the hall, past the small alcove and into a large kitchen that would've been bright and airy in the sunshine -- if not for the metal shutters over all the windows. The lights were on in here though, the way they were in the hall. A breakfast bar was set with a single, food-encrusted plate and dirty silverware and a mug still full of liquid.
Dennis held up a hand. "That's not like her, to leave a mess."
Kelsey's stomach rumbled. From here she could see a fuzz of mold on the food scraps. "It looks old."
"Shit." Dennis moved forward a little. He didn't touch the plate or mug, but he looked at it from all angles. He looked around the kitchen. "Mom!"
"I thought you didn't want --"
Ignoring her, Dennis pushed past her toward another doorway. "Mom! It's Dennis! It's me! Where are you?"
Kelsey had to run a few skipping steps to catch up to him, but there was no way she was going to be left alone. Dennis moved fast, without caution, down another short hallway to a large living room as empty as the kitchen. The same shutters closed the windows in here. Just ahead of him was the front door and a stairway to the right. Just as with everything else, the house looked normal. Comfortable but nondescript. Nevertheless, Kelsey stayed closed though Dennis wasn't paying any attention to her.
He went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up. "Mother! It's Dennis! C'mon, Mom, you know it's me. Abattoir. Come out, okay?"
Nothing.
Dennis put a foot on the bottom step, his palm on the newel post. He let out a muttered curse and tried to snatch his hand away, but too late. Much like the spring-loaded fence in the front yard, the post was rigged too. A metal spike, barbed at the end, shot up at least six inches, impaling his hand.
Dennis screamed, sagging, and let out a series of curses, each more colorful than the last. Kelsey ran to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his wrist to keep him from pulling at his trapped hand. There was only a little blood, but there would be more.
"Stop moving," she ordered him, and incredibly, he did. "Can we get this off somehow?"
Sweat had broken out on his forehead, his face pale, but Dennis straightened. He looked at the barbed tip. Pulling his hand over that would completely shred it.
"Can we break it off," Kelsey said before he could answer. "From underneath."
Dennis swallowed convulsively. "I need to sit."
Kelsey shifted to let him find a place on the stairs. "First, Dennis. Stay with me, okay? Look at me."
He did, his gaze a little unfocused. She took his chin in her hand, hard. He blinked rapidly but fixed his eyes on her.
"Is there anything else that could happen while I fix this? Anything you know of?"
Slowly, he shook his head. "Unless Mom shows up with a shotgun at the top of the stairs there, no."
Reflexively, Kelsey looked up, expecting to see at least the shadow of a woman with a gun. Nothing. She looked back at him. "No more traps?"
"I don't think so. This one would've kept any intruder immobilized while Mom came for them."
That was true enough. Kelsey looked at his hand. The wound was darkening. Still not so much blood, but the flesh around the puncture was definitely bruising.
"I'm going to have to break off the spike."
Dennis shook his head and licked his upper lip free of the sweat gathered there. "No. It's metal. You can't."
"I can't take it the other way. Your hand will be ruined." Gingerly, she examined the bottom of his hand to see how the metal was attached to the wood. It looked like it came directly out of a hole in the post. If she took the post apart, she might find the mechanism that worked the spike. "Be right back."
> "No! Kelsey!"
"Tell me what I should look out for," she told him as she backed up a step. "More arrows? Fire? What?"
Dennis shook his head, eyelids drooping. "I...don't know. There could be anything. Or nothing."
Great. Kelsey didn't try to wake him up. If he was passing out, there was nothing to do for him, and if he sagged too much and pulled at his hand, the pain would surely wake him, anyway. She needed to find a tool of some sort, something to whack the post.
She found it in the living room, next to the fireplace. A heavy poker hung from a set of fireplace tools, which was odd since it wasn't a wood-burning fireplace but the gas sort you turned on with a switch. Back at the stairs, she tapped the poker on the post.
Dennis opened his eyes. "What the hell?"
"I need you to stand up and hold that top piece, Dennis." Kelsey tapped the square part of the newel post. "Hold it so it doesn't fall when I break the post."
He blinked slowly, then stood, weaving a little. Kelsey, hating herself, squeezed his trapped hand. Blood squirted from the wound. Dennis screamed hoarsely, but stood up straight with his other hand on the post.
"Call me a bitch if you have to," she said grimly. "I'm sorry to hurt you. But I need you focused."
"I...wouldn't...call you a bitch," Dennis gasped. His hair hung in his eyes. He licked his mouth again. "You're right. Let's do this."
Kelsey took a deep breath. She widened her stance and tapped the poker against the post again, aiming the way a batter does on home plate while waiting for the pitch. Once. Twice.
On three, she swung like she meant to hit it out of the park. The post splintered, bits of wood scraping her arms as it exploded. The shock reverberated all the way up her arms to her shoulders, rattling her jaw so hard she bit her tongue. The pain was instant and terrible. Her vision blurred.
Dennis shouted, but kept hold of the wooden top. The metal spike stuck out of the bottom, attached to a rattling metal box. He sank back onto the stairs with the whole mess cradled in his lap. Blood splattered everywhere, and Kelsey's fingers slipped in it when she dropped the poker to help him.
She knelt in front of him, her knee between his calves, both her hands cupping the wood and metal, holding his. They stayed like that for a half a minute, both breathing hard. Dennis's brow had furrowed, but he didn't look as out of it as he had before.