Plane just landed. How far away are you from airport? After pressing the send button, yellow motion on the carousel entered the corner of my eye. Rule number one in buying luggage, make sure you pick a design that you can spot easily. I put the phone into my pocket, snatched my bag from the gliding metal, and headed back up to the main floor.
A thundering echo of rain against the glass ceiling, the only noise present to pair with the plastic wheels I pulled behind me. Not only two years ago when I left home, this airport rumbled with its clients twenty-four seven. Now, only myself and staffing brought any life to the building. Even on the week before Christmas, a deathly silence hung heavy.
Automatic doors slid open, and I stepped through to the outside world. The downpour’s volume only increased. Orange parking lot lights reflected through the falling droplets behind the pick up lane directly before me. Two taxis sat idling, while one more left them behind in the downpour. Apparently the only other traveler besides myself narrowly avoided me.
The headlights of the nearest remaining cab beamed through the rain partially blinding me. The driver within watched me, waiting for the kid with no ride to finally give him some business. One more look at my phone. No messages. No missed calls. ‘God damn it.’
“Hey dad, I’m waiting for you outside the airport. Did we get our times wrong? I’m going to wait inside the airport for another twenty minutes before calling you back. Let me know as soon as you get this. Bye.” Being sent to voice mail remained standard procedure if he and mom had fallen asleep. But any time I started recording my message in the past, someone would hear my voice on the machine and would have picked up. Parental instinct, if they had any.
Twenty minutes, just enough time of a wait for me to conclude that they had totally forgotten about my arrival. And, after leaving another message saying that I would grab a taxi, I walked back outside under the awning. The other taxi behind the closest had left, leaving with a family of three, who made their way out of the airport while I waited for a return call that never came. The headlights stood by for me to make the only option I had left.
“You know where Milton Drive is? It’s right next to Willow Oak Park.”
When we had finally made it down the highway a few miles, the rain mostly cleared up, and in its place, an endless barrage of questions from my new companion. “So, your parents still live near the park then?”
“Yeah, they’ve been there since just before I got to high school. Really somewhere they wanted to settle down, ya know?” I kept my focus out the window. Travel exhaustion finally caught up to my body, and conversation with a man I would no longer have any affiliation with in fifteen more minutes weighed heavy upon me.
“Interesting. Haven’t taken anyone to that area of the city in about a year now. Last guy was just some bum I was just trying to help out. Honestly, can’t think of anyone else.” I had little experience with taxis, only using them once on a graduation trip to Europe. I figured that my ride could possibly be made worse if I didn’t at least attempt to keep up social pretenses.
“Yeah? I haven’t been home in a couple years now. It was a pretty average neighborhood while I lived there, I guess.”
“I'm surprised a homeless guy like that would want to go there. Not much of anyone there now.” My eyes pulled away from the window and the night coated world beyond. “But that’s nothing new. A lot of places like that around the city.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean the vacant pockets. Or, at least that’s what the guys on the radio are calling them. Whole neighborhoods have had loads of people moving out of ‘em.” When I inquired further about the subject, he had little more information to give me. The radio stations he frequented hadn’t talked about the subject in months now, and it had just become a commonplace bit of knowledge.
The highway evolved to city, the city to suburb. All the way the gleaming Christmas lights dwindled, each house now cast in the illuminating orange glow of tall street lamps. Dozens upon dozens of overgrown yards, and dark windows passed before we finally reached Milton Drive.
The street, which reached its dead end five houses down, stood devoid of life. The solitary light pole at the far end cast long shadows down the neighborhood. The slender bare branches of the trees in the front yards whipped back and forth in the turbulent wind that followed us, its rain not far behind.
“Don’t want to assume, but I’m guessing you want me to drop you at the only house with the cars parked out front. Right?” Frigid winds stung sharply, slapping my face and biting right through my jeans to my thighs. The sound of the air currents howled through the narrow grassy alleys between houses.
Finding the front door locked upon attempting the handle, I stepped back and looked to the second story where no lights shone. I fished my cellphone from my bag, and clicked the last number. The phone rang in my ear once before the landline chimed faintly within. The voice mail picked up, and I heard myself echo beyond the door.
“Hey, it’s me. I’m outside. Anyone home?” I pressed my face against the small window on the front door in a vain attempt to see through the cracks of the blinds behind the frozen glass. “Ok, I’m gonna just use the spare key and let myself in. I’ll try to be quiet and not wake you guys up.” Foraging around in the neglected potted lemon bush at the other end of the front porch, the gleam of light reflected off of metal. Picking up the key, I wiped the soil from my fingers onto my pants. Unlocking the deadbolt on the door, I turned back around and gave the taxi driver a thumbs up which he mirrored before turning the vehicle around and driving away. Walking to the edge of the porch, I watched the red tail lights grow ever more distant before finally turning left and out of view.
A freezing blast of wind came through the dark doorway, chilling my knuckles. Stumbling my way through the darkness of the living room, I found the switch for the overhead light. Same furniture. Same TV. Same magazines sprawled decoratively across the coffee table, none of which had even been cracked open once. The ash tray at the end table between the couch and leather recliner had two cigarette butts in it. ‘A his and hers’.
I slung my bag into the couch, and headed to the kitchen for a drink. My shoes went from soft carpeting that could use a vacuuming to hard polystyrene tiles. Spilled food crumbs crunched beneath my feet every few steps, while I filled a musty glass. The tap water of the city tasted metallic against my tongue.
The sink below me had two empty glasses in its drying rack, a light drizzle of water stains down their sides. The final action taken from my mom before she headed off to bed each night. Dishes from the whole day always went in the washer, but their last two drinking glasses would always be hand washed every morning. Yet, here they were.
I drank my cup down halfway when a booming thunder clap shook the house, followed by the familiar thumping of rain striking down. Every light went off with a resounding popping. Not even the street light had been spared. My grip loosened just enough and the glass hit tile just as another thunder clap rattled the darkness.
“Fuck.” Glass shards now joined the crunching under my feet as I fumbled across to the opposite counter top. Feeling my way to the junk drawer, I fished out a small flashlight. Dozens of shards glistened in the narrow beam. “God damn it all.” At the back of the kitchen, in the pantry, I found the dust pan and broom. Squatting low, I carefully swatted the pieces into the pan. While I worked silently on this task, voices drifted through the house. Two of them shouting behind the house. The rain slowed down.
I quietly stepped my way through the house, keeping the flashlight pointed to the floor in front of me. Two women argued, neither voice belonging to my mom. Making my way to the staircase, I ascended the steps.
“No shoes on the carpet.” My mom’s mantra rang in my memory, and I halted. This moment of hesitation made the house quiet enough for me to once again decipher the voices, and this time the words were clear. At the end of the hallway that linked to my parent’s bedroom on one side, mine and the bathroom on the other, a window looked out over the park. The window’s glass lay shattered into the hall, allowing rain and sounds from the outside to come through.
“I said give it to me!” The voice of the young girl echoed to my ears. “I’m not going to let you ruin this for me!” With each step, the damp air forced its way inside and fluttered against my exposed hands and face, as I stretched my neck to gain as much vision as I could through “Get off of me!” Desperation and anger filled the second girl’s voice.
Reaching the window, I looked out over the oval shaped park, encircled by the surrounding neighborhoods. The aura of the street lamp stretched weakly across the grassy park, hitting each solitary tree, bench, and rusty swingset before slowly tapering off. The overgrown grounds cast black shadows here and there, obscuring the lamplight.
Solitary among the tall unkempt grass and weeds, an orange and gray tent stood in the dead center, only big enough for up to two or three people. From within a flashlight beam made a circle against its nylon wall, giving the structure illumination. The beam swung about manically, occasionally revealing the silhouette of people within. The tent bent, shivered, and thrashed about before the two figures fell out of its door, one upon the other. No older than high schoolers. One blonde, the other ginger. Both interlocked in a wrestling match for a cellular flip phone in the blonde’s hands. Its display screen glowing in a blur as they yanked it around. “Give it to me you bitch!” The ginger gained her footing. Holding a metal flashlight in her right hand, she brought it smashing across the blonde’s mouth. Her victim’s head snapped to the side. Teeth and blood flew from her mouth. Her body dropped to the ground moaning pitifully and clutching her face with shaky hands. The ginger, stolen phone and flashlight in hand, ran, not looking at her partner for even a moment. Eventually, as she crossed the park towards the structure of the gazebo where darkness engulfed.
The intensity of my breathing fogged my viewing through the window, and only when my vision had totally been blinded once more did I snap back to my senses.
“Hey! Get back here!” I pressed myself up against the glass, at an angle that would allow me further into the darkness after the girl. The groans of the young girl pulled my attention back. Now on her hands and knees, she crawled about dazed, blood and drool oozing through slurred speech. My stomach clenched up on itself. “Just hold on, I’ll call an ambulance.” I reached into my pocket, only realizing just then that I had left my phone in my bag downstairs. Once I turned around, the cry sounded off in the park below.
A shriek that an old woman might make if there were no words to fill in her rage, a single tone of high pitched wrathful elderly vocals, echoing across the whole park and through the broken window. I scanned the open area for the scream’s location. My heart stopped.
From the darkness of the backyard two houses to my left, it rushed out towards the girl. On all fours, it still stood at six feet tall. Emaciated and naked. The long knobby limbs that it ran on thumped hard upon the wet grass. In an instant it closed the distance, circling around its prey and giving me a view of its face. Bulging manic eyes, and a snarling look sculpted far beyond flesh and muscles’ limitations. Pure hatred and desperation. Its head tilted back and forth in a twitching motion.
Then, having found its perfect position, it opened its jaws wide and stooped down. The pearly teeth sunk deep into the young girl’s scalp, blood squirted out from between their narrow gaps. Her eyes shone white through the red curtain as she came back to her senses. Screaming out in mangled gummy sobs, her hands reached up desperately to free herself. Sensing her attempts to escape, it shook its head back and forth, slinging the girl's body around like a dog with a stuffed animal. Her body went limp. Then, it brought both large hands to her body, and pulled down with all of its might. Flesh and tendons stretched, and peeled apart under the tension. The blonde’s scream of agony gurgled and then cut out upon the final tugging motion which pulled her head from her body.
Dropping my flashlight at the window, I stumbled through darkness, the hot sensation of tears moistening my face. Then, the floor vanished. I free fell. The impact of the stair hit my wrist. A snap rang out, and my body impacted, turning over itself twice before I felt the hardness of the first floor.
My left hand screamed at me with a burning sensation, so I crawled with only three limbs. Gasping for air between sobs, I slowly felt my way through the house. Food and glass crunched beneath my right hand, and I stumbled upwards to my feet. My hand slung this way and that, searching. The texture of fabric, then I gripped my bag. I found the side pocket zipper and pulled it down with my right hand, using my left elbow to hold the bag down.
I flipped my phone open and its screen illuminated my face while I dialed nine and one before noticing the empty service bars. “No. No. Come on.” My cries blubbered from my lips, splattering tears onto the screen. “Mom! Dad!” Using the light from the phone I rushed back through the house. Up the stairs, skipping every second step. Once more I looked out the window, and screamed. It stood on two feet, out just beyond the backyard fence. Towering and hateful. Silently watching.
It let out its cry of rage and took long steps towards the house. I pulled myself away and tried to open my parents bedroom door. Something blocked it. Again and again I slammed my body against it, each time getting the door a bit more open until I could just barely squeeze through.
“Mom! Dad!” The flashlight whipped about the bedroom. Its light shone forth over the limbs and remaining blood. It shone over the furniture that had been torn apart. It shone over the broken bedroom window on the opposite side of the room. It shone over the snarling face climbing through it. Then its battery died.