Night Lights, page 16
“You’ll eat what you’re given,” Dad told me.
“I’m happy to make my own,” I said. “Is that allowed?”
Uncle Marty huffed loudly. “Can everyone please take a deep breath?”
Things were definitely spiralling. We needed some kind of a circuit-breaker before our family self-combusted.
Thankfully, it came in the form of a simple suggestion from Marty.
“I have an idea,” he said. “Janey, Tugger – how about I take you both out for dinner at the pub?”
I could see straight away what he was trying to do. He wanted to give Mum a break from the cabin, and he wanted to give me a break from Dad. There would be enough distractions at The Wooralla Hotel for my dad to relax and enjoy himself. He might even come home in a good mood.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mum said. “It sounds lovely, but Nika’s unwell …”
“I’ll look after her,” I offered. “She’ll probably sleep the whole time anyway.”
Mum bit her lip, weighing things up.
“No,” Dad said, folding his arms. “I don’t want to leave the kids here alone.”
“Owen’s not a kid,” Marty said. “And it will only be for a couple of hours.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Safe?” Mum said. “What do you think is going to happen?”
It seemed like Dad’s resistance was enough to convince Mum that she now absolutely wanted to go.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “We’ll keep everything locked up.”
“The pub might even have live music,” Marty added. “And Sunday roast dinner specials.”
Dad finally relented. Maybe he was picturing the venue, the beers on tap and likelihood of poker machines – Marty would have a job on his hands steering Dad away from those. Right now I didn’t care. All I could think about was a few blissful hours to myself.
However, getting Mum out the door later when evening rolled around proved to be a challenge. She seemed tempted to change her mind. Nika was back in the front bedroom dozing, and Mum checked on her twice while she was supposed to be getting changed to go out.
“I feel guilty about leaving her,” Mum said, touching her hand to my sister’s forehead. She kept doing that even though Nika wasn’t feverish; I suspected it was one of those mum impulses that happened on autopilot. She shivered, peering around the bedroom. “This house has too many cold patches. Probably rising damp. I bet there’s mould inside the walls.”
Leaning over Nika again, Mum wrinkled her nose at the grubby bed frame, the lank curtains, and yellowed plasterboard.
“She can have more paracetamol at eight thirty if she needs it,” she said. “If she won’t eat anything, it’s okay if she takes it on an empty stomach.”
“We should stop hovering and let her sleep,” I said.
Outside, the rainclouds had cleared. The moon was bright, and the air frigid. Mum and Dad hurried to the station wagon, avoiding large puddles on the driveway.
“If I see your cute waitress,” Marty said, spinning the car keys on his finger, “I’ll let her know you fancy some company.”
I gave him a playful shove down the verandah steps.
“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll drop everything and hurry up here to help me babysit my little sister.”
“Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie?” Marty said. “The babysitter’s always inviting someone over so they can get it on while the kid’s asleep. It’s Teen Flick 101.”
“Then next minute they get chopped up? Yeah, you’re not exactly selling it to me, Mart.”
He chuckled and pulled me into a spontaneous hug.
“Enjoy the peace and quiet,” he said. “And don’t eat all the Doritos.”
After I’d fed Scout, I grabbed myself some snacks and plopped onto the couch. I flicked through the TV channels until I landed on a foreign small-town murder mystery that Uncle Marty would be into but Dad wouldn’t have the patience for. Dad only liked movies with explosions and Bruce Willis, extra points for car chases and ripped dudes beating other ripped dudes to a bloody pulp. In the months before Zach went overseas, he and Dad would watch a different Jason Statham movie every weekend while I hid in my room bingeing Game of Thrones. “Why do you like so much of that fantasy crap?” Dad asked me once. His words caught me off guard, because up until I heard the accusation in his voice, I hadn’t realised it was something he thought I should be ashamed of.
The movie was almost halfway through when I heard Nika stirring in the bedroom: a dull thump, a creak of the bed slats, a single muffled cough. I turned the TV down and waited to see if she’d nod off again.
Beside me, Scout jerked upright. I reached my hand over and sunk it into her fur. She growled quietly, a low rumble that vibrated deep in her belly.
“Ssshh,” I said. I didn’t want her to start barking in case Nika was drifting off again. Scout’s head whipped around to face the door.
She leapt off the couch a second before Nika squealed.
“Jesus!” I said, my whole body jolting.
I was on my feet now too. Scout barked and bolted to the front door. For a second I was confused – she was running in the opposite direction to Nika’s bedroom. My sister called out for Mum. I was frozen with indecision, both Scout and Nika vying for my attention. I stumbled to the hallway, leaving Scout pacing in the shadows near the front door.
“Nik-nak,” I whispered, easing the bedroom door open. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
The darkness was disorientating in the unfamiliar room. Where was Nika’s night-light? I slid my hand along the wall and struggled to locate a switch for the ceiling light.
“Mummy?” she said.
The glow from the TV in the living room danced up and down the hallway but didn’t reach the bedroom. I dug into my pocket for my phone and fumbled with the screen until my phone’s torch light blinked on.
Nika whimpered again. I shone the light towards the bed and found the pillow scrunched up against the bed frame. Nika wasn’t on the mattress. Her pink sleeping bag lay in a withered pile on the floor.
To my right came a light scraping sound. I flicked my phone in that direction. In the other room, Scout barked over and over and over.
“Nik-nak?” I repeated, panning the light around every inch of the bedroom. The broken ceiling fan created sinister shadows that clawed at the ceiling and walls.
Nika wasn’t here. How had she managed to get past me?
Scout scratched her paws at the base of the front door like she was trying to dig her way under.
“Outside,” came a muffled voice.
A small hand emerged from beneath the bed. I startled, almost dropping my phone.
“Nika!” I lowered myself to my knees. “What are you doing down there?”
She blinked at me, her heart-shaped face washed out by the phone light. Clumps of dust clung to her long dark hair. I lowered my phone and held my hand out to her.
“Outside,” she said again. She crawled out from beneath the bed and straight into my lap. Her skinny arms locked around my neck and clung on for dear life. “I saw it at the window.”
“Saw what?”
She buried her face into my shoulder and shook her head. Her answer was muffled.
The curtains didn’t meet in the middle of the window, and a strip of night-time was visible through the glass.
“Did you turn off your night-light?” I said.
Nika shook her head again. I shuffled us closer to the wall and shone my phone down near the skirting board. The night-light was still plugged into the power point. The switch was on. I leaned over and tapped the star-shaped light with my finger. It buzzed and crackled, then flashed for a split second before going dark.
“Hang on,” I said, extricating myself from my sister’s grip. “Let me fix it.”
I wiggled the night-light in the power point, flicked the switch off and then on again. The golden-yellow light came back to life and stayed on this time.
“There,” I said. “Is that better?”
“It was out there, Owee,” Nika said. “It was looking in at me.”
I followed her line of sight to the gap in the curtains. “What was?”
“I don’t know.”
Scout growled at the front door again. There was probably a possum on the verandah. Maybe it had got curious and peeked in through Nika’s window. Scout had no doubt scared it off by now with all of her racket.
“Do you think maybe it was a dream?” I asked Nika.
The night-light buzzed and flickered again. She whimpered.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “This cabin is old. The wiring is probably dodgy.”
“Can I come and watch TV with you?” she asked.
I sighed. “Sure. I’ll even share my Doritos.”
I’d lost the thread of the movie I was watching anyway, so I hunted for the most kid-friendly thing I could find on the limited TV channels. I needed Nika to wind down again if I wanted her to go back to bed. If she was still up when my parents came home, I’d never hear the end of it from Dad.
Scout paced behind the front door. She’d stopped growling but she was still unsettled. Nika called her over and patted the dog bed parked in front of the couch. Scout wouldn’t come.
“She’ll get bored soon,” I told Nika.
“She might need to pee,” my sister said, nibbling the edge of a corn chip. She was wrapped in her sleeping bag like an enormous pink marshmallow. “Mum says we have to go to the toilet before we get into bed.”
“This is true.” Groaning with effort, I hauled myself off the couch. “Okay, Scoutsy. One last toilet stop. It’s freezing out there.”
I had a sudden flash of me standing outside a couple of nights ago in bare feet and a flimsy T-shirt, my teeth chattering, my body shuddering. A shiver ran through me at the memory.
Scout started whining as I approached the door.
“Listen,” I said, crouching so our faces were level. “Don’t take off, okay? You be a good girl.”
She sat down with a sedate expression, her eyes darting back and forth between the doorhandle and my face. I’d barely opened the door when she shoved her way through it, her claws scrabbling across the verandah as she launched herself off the edge and into the darkness of the driveway.
“Goddamn it!” I growled. “Scout!”
I could hear her thrashing through the ferns, snuffling and growling. I’d already lost sight of her. The only torch we had was in the back of the station wagon.
“Naughty Scout,” Nika said. She joined me at the door, her sleeping bag rustling. “She didn’t want to pee after all.”
“Yeah, no shi—” I caught myself in time. “No, she didn’t.”
We both waited in the doorway for our dog like she might actually return. I already knew I would have to go out there and drag her back.
I zipped my hoodie all the way up and grabbed my sneakers from beside the door.
“Stay here,” I said to Nika. I pulled my shoes on without undoing the laces. “I’ll only be a minute.”
She grabbed my sleeve. “I want to come with you.”
“You can’t,” I explained. “You’re not well. Mum and Dad will kill me if they find out you’ve been wandering around outside.”
“I don’t want to be by myself.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. You can watch me from here. Look.” I pulled out my phone and switched on the light. “You’ll be able to see exactly where I am.”
Cold enveloped me as soon as I stepped onto the verandah, the warmth from inside soon forgotten. The smell of damp tree bark and wet earth hung in the air, and all around me crickets trilled their monotonous song. The moon was almost full, providing some light for me once my eyes adjusted. Up ahead, in the area of bushland that Scout disappeared into, I spied movement. I shone my phone’s torch light in that direction, but it didn’t reach far enough.
“Owen,” Nika called.
I’d ventured about fifteen or twenty metres from the cabin, through dense ferns, into the edge of the trees.
“Hang on,” I replied, cocking my ear to listen for the tinkle of Scout’s collar. She was thrashing through the undergrowth not too far away. It sounded haphazard, like she was darting back and forth. To show Nika where I was, I wiggled the phone light over my shoulder.
“Here I am,” I said. “Do you see me?”
“See me?”
I stiffened.
An echo. A mimic.
It was happening again.
I jerked around, peering through the trees towards the driveway. The chorus of crickets from earlier had now fallen silent. Backlit in the doorway of the cabin was the silhouette of my sister, her head tilted to one side. The verandah suddenly seemed very far away.
“Nik-nak,” I called to her. “Go inside!”
“Inside!”
Behind me now.
I spun in a circle, raising defensive hands.
Where the hell is it coming from?
It sounded like my own voice, only … not right. The pitch was off. There was a hollowness, a lack of emotion that disturbed me.
I bolted back through the ferns, my rubber soles slipping on sodden leaves. The phone light bounced around, creating new shadows to freak me out. Nika’s small outline, framed in the doorway, swayed from side to side, clearly anxious.
“Owee …?”
Movement drew my eye upwards to the cabin’s tin roof. It was painted in silver-blue moonlight.
A figure on all fours was creeping along the roofline.
My breath caught in my throat.
I almost tripped over my own feet.
What—?
Pale. Lean. No clothing or hair.
Four long limbs. Possibly eight feet in length from head to toe.
The creature paused, angling its narrow head as I sprinted across the gravel. It was too dark to make out facial features, but I sensed it watching me.
I tried calling out to Nika.
My voice was a rasp.
This was some kind of waking nightmare.
I’m sleepwalking I’m sleepwalking I’m—
I was more awake than I’d ever been in my entire life.
My heart squeezed as I waved my arms at my sister in a frantic back away motion.
“Get inside!” I managed. “GET INSIDE!”
My voice cracked with panic. The creature recoiled and scrabbled backwards towards the rear of the cabin.
Leaping across the verandah, I half-tackled Nika in the doorway. I slammed the door shut behind us and flipped the locks, clutching my sister to my side with one rigid arm.
“Why did you shout at me?” she whimpered, close to tears. “I didn’t go outside.”
I parked her in the kitchen and darted around checking the windows, yanking on the sliding door to ensure it was securely locked and bolted.
“Where’s Scout?” Nika asked in a tiny voice.
I switched off the lights and the TV. The only thing illuminating the cabin now was the fireplace, an unsettling orange glow. Light and shadows danced around the living room, shaped by the flickering flames.
“She didn’t come back,” I told Nika, fighting to keep my voice level.
I tried calling Mum. There was no phone service.
I texted Marty. Waiting for connection.
Above us came a muffled thud on the roof. I ducked without meaning to.
“What’s wrong, Owee?” Nika’s voice trembled. “What’s that noise?”
“Possums,” I lied.
“Why are you scared of possums?”
“I’m not scared,” I said, reaching for her hand.
“Yes, you are.”
We backed up against the fridge so I had a clear view of every window. Why didn’t this cabin have any goddamned curtains or blinds? I suddenly felt vulnerable, only now realising that anybody – anything – could have been watching us from outside this entire time.
Like microbes in a petri dish.
Another dull thud, towards the back of the cabin this time. Something scratched at the tin roof like nails on a blackboard. It set my teeth on edge. Nika clamped both hands over her ears.
BANG.
We both jumped as the back door rattled on its hinges. I stared at the large window overlooking Wooralla Ridge. Any second now, that thing could appear on the other side of the glass.
I pulled Nika into a crouch so we were hidden behind the island counter.
“Owee,” Nika said, “I want Mummy.”
I squeezed her hand, mustering a weak smile. All the while my mind was whirring.
Is the back door locked? Where else can it get in? Is there more than one?
Where can we go? What’s the safest room to hide in?
How on earth do I keep Nika safe?
“H-here’s a fun game,” I told her. “We’re going to head to the bathroom and pretend the bath is the safety pod of our very own spaceship.”
She blinked up at me with trusting eyes.
“Spaceship?”
I nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Yep! We’ll hide out there until the rest of the crew returns.”
“Is the crew Mummy and Daddy? And Uncle Marty?”
“Sure is.” I scoped out the hallway. The bathroom door was only metres away. I shoved my phone into my pocket and scooped up Nika’s sleeping bag from the floor. “Get ready to run.”
We scurried to the bathroom hand in hand, and I resisted the temptation to slam the door shut behind us. I eased it closed quietly in the hopes of hiding our location, sliding the tiny bolt into place. It wouldn’t keep anything out that really wanted to get in, so we had to hope that nothing really wanted to get in.
The tiled room was freezing. The small frosted-glass window above the bath was positioned high, with a winder that barely opened. In terms of access, this would be the least likely entry point into the cabin … which also meant it was useless as a means of escape.
I pulled all of the towels off the hooks and laid them down in the bath. The porcelain tub was like a slab of ice.
“Hop in,” I said.
Nika swallowed, dismayed, like I had forgotten something important.
“Bunny,” we both said at the same time.
Damn. Where the hell was that freakin’ rabbit?
I settled my sister in the tub and told her to stay put no matter what. The house had fallen silent. For now.
