With the stair’s light out, the handrail’s shadow was now visible against the wall, angled upward to her right. Shadows of vertical bars every few inches were overlapped by her own shadow. She seemed to be seeing double, though, because another shadow perched on the rail above her.
The shadow waved cheerfully. It was like the lights suddenly came on in another wing of her memory, dazzling her. She looked up, already knew she wouldn’t see anyone perched on the handrail, but the experience was still creepy. She looked back at the wall. The disembodied shadow danced along the shadow handrail, arms akimbo. Gina smiled despite pounding pulse and aching tush, cocked her head in thought.
Gina had always seen shadows differently than others. They were her imaginary friends when kids at school weren’t. They’d danced for her, pushed at the light to make different shapes, and played scary tricks on her. At night darkness wrapped arms around her and told stories that always made her feel safe. Gina never felt alone when friends weren’t there, because the shadows were always there. Even as a teenager, long after she’d learned to believe they were imaginary, the shadows remained some of her best friends.
“Monkeyboy?”
The shadow jumped in glee. The buzzing in her ears resolved into many voices whispering her name, and she saw other shadows rise. From the chaos of her memories there came one of her, sitting almost exactly here, laughing at Monkeyboy’s antics. Daddy had caught her and scolded her for turning off the stair’s light. Gina had a dizzying moment as perceptions flipped.
Her imaginary friends hadn’t been imaginary at all. Nor, now that she thought about it, had they been entirely friendly. She remembered thrown toys, pinches, and being tripped. As a kid it was all fun and games, but tonight they seemed more sinister. What if Daddy had been right and the shadows had something to do with her mother’s death? What if they’d done something to Daddy?
She jumped at a loud crash, heard Hershel call her name. Monkeyboy and the rest were gone when she looked back.
Heart racing and stomach twisting, Gina rushed to the kitchen and reluctantly opened the door. Unlike the rest of the house, the dingy basement had only a tiny light over the stairs and a single bulb for the rest of the space. Hand on the wall, she slowly entered the basement. Before reaching the bottom of the steps, she could see Hershel standing amid a clutter of doors, sinks, and other items.
“What the hell?” he snarled. “I been yellin’ my head off.”
“Are you okay? I heard something fall.” She could see he wasn’t too hurt, but there was anger in his voice that let Gina know she was in trouble. For a change she didn’t much care.
“Yeah, well, I yelled so hard I must have knocked something off.” He touched his scalp; the finger showed a smudge of blood. “Where were you?”
“Upstairs.” She took in the mess, anger warming. “If you’re not hurt, what’s all this?”
“I’m glad I came along, now. We got us a damn fortune down here. Some of this stuff is probably a hundred years old.” He gave a tight smile. “The biggest thing ever happened to us and you’re lost somewhere.”
Gina took a breath, bit back her first response.
“Couldn’t we just get through the funeral first? Before worrying about other stuff?”
“That’s right, change the subject.” He glared, pointed a finger at her face. “Look, when I yell for you, that means I need you now, got it?”
“What?” Her anger boiled over. “Screw you. You can kiss your fortune goodbye, ‘cause you and me are done!” She could see the rage burning in his face, rage directed at her this time. For the moment adrenalin overrode her fear and everything else.
She could see shadows on the shelves behind him, darker shapes moving in the dimness. They gathered behind a heavy-looking crock on the top shelf. The basin inched stealthily forward over Hershel’s head and she had a flash of sure knowledge. Unless she acted, something bad was about to happen, something she found herself unwilling to be responsible for. On impulse she turned and ran back up the stairs. No plea or command from her would move Hershel, but nothing could keep the man from following to continue the fight.
Running through the kitchen she remembered that long-ago fight with her father, another time she’d run away. She’d believed the shadows weren’t real, that all her father’s rules were some kind of punishment. Her stomach knotted tighter as she accepted that her father may have been right about the shadows.
She reached the front hall, hesitated. Now what? Things were moving too fast, her brain felt thick and slow. Upstairs or face him right here? Confronting him after such provocation scared Gina. Maybe if they were outside he’d be less likely to lose control. Decision made, she ran to the front door.
“Hey!” Hershel’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Stop, goddammit.”
Gina’s heart was banging in her ears as she slid into the jamb. She could hear his boots on the wood floor as she fumbled back the lock and threw open the door.
Three boys in Halloween pirate costumes were just starting up the walk to the porch. Oh, God, she thought, Halloween. Unwilling to go out the door and involve innocent kids, but too terrified for retreat, she involuntarily paused. An instant later Hershel’s hand slammed the door shut. He jerked her around, slapped her, shook her, sprayed spit as he ground out a string of curses.
The left side of her face was numbed, her ear rang, and panic strobed her vision. The man ranted about his ‘share’ just inches from her face. She shoved him away with all her strength, but only managed to push herself into the corner of hallway and doorframe. Gina had never physically been backed into a corner. Fear squeezed her lungs, her legs trembled, and she had a sick feeling Hershel was about to go much further than face slaps. Worse, there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Three loud knocks shook the front door as Hershel loomed over her. He stopped like a paused video, mouth open and eyes squinted. They both watched the door until the knock came again. He put his right fist inches from her nose.
“We’re not done here, bitch,” he whispered. “Don’t move.” He stepped back and opened the front door, ugly frown on his face.
“Trick or Treat, Mr. Calder,” sounded a chorus of boyish voices. “Hey, where’s Mr. Calder?” asked one young voice.
“The old man’s dead.” He seemed to enjoy saying that. “Get lost.”
Gina moved as quickly as she ever remembered moving, dancing around Hershel and blocking the door open before he could slam it shut.
“Hey, yeah, I’m sorry but my Daddy is gone.” The boys were dressed as a pirate crew, with the tallest wearing a captain’s long coat. “Let me get you some candy.” She snatched a handful out of the bowl by the door. The three boys held their bags open, but the young captain watched Hershel with fearful suspicion. Gina could see he knew something was going on. The other two kept looking into the hall behind her.
A tinkle of breaking glass came from the driveway.
“What the . . .?” Hershel shoved Gina aside, scattering the candy. “You punks better not a’ messed with my truck!” He pushed past the kids, trotted down the steps and to the driveway.
“We didn’t do nothin’,” said the pirate boy-captain, worry clear on his face.
“I know,” Gina answered, “don’t worry. How about some more candy and you boys can go to the next house?” She worried these kids might attract Hershel’s anger, wanted them out of harms way. Reaching to the candy bowl again, she caught movement from the corner of her eye. She turned, watched in stunned horror as shadows streamed past her and out into the deeply shaded yard.
“Ooh, cool. You got the shadow show going,” said one of the pirate crew. “Told ya so.” The other boys watched with wide eyes.
She spun back around, stepped out on the wide porch with the boys to look toward the driveway. Hershel had unlocked the driver’s door, left the keys hanging in the lock. He glanced around the cab for damage, leaned over and turned on the headlights. Only one circle of light appeared on the rock retaining wall.
“That’s it. You punks are goin’ to jail.” Hershel moved around to the front of the truck to inspect the damage.
Gina’s reassurance to the protesting boys never left her mouth. As Hershel stepped into the light, she saw other shadows uncurling from his. More shadows raced over the lawn to the truck, a shadowy figure rose in the driver’s seat. Her heart gave a thud when she saw that the keys were gone from the door. She wanted to scream ‘no,’ wanted to tell the shadows to stop, but the rage on Hershel’s face made her pause too long.
“Look at this!” He cursed and bent over to look closer. Shadowy arms reached out, wrapped around Hershel, pulled him back against the short rock wall. “Hey.” He tried uselessly to jerk loose. “Hey!”
The engine started, roared to full rpm’s. Hershel’s cursing was drowned by the noise, but his violent struggle had Gina’s petrified attention. The shifter dropped into gear and, for a short time that seemed very long, the wheels spun in a smoking, shrieking burn-out.
Tires regained traction and the Silverado lunged across the few feet into Hershel, pinned him against the wall in an explosion of roaring engine, breaking glass, and crumpling metal. By luck, the upright horns of the homemade push bumper passed to either side of Hershel and shattered the rock wall. The top crossbar drove him into the rubble as the lower crossbar caught him just below the knees, snapping both shins. The engine died with an ugly rattle.
Gina couldn’t bring herself to approach Hershel; he slumped over the hood, unconscious or dead. Either way, she told herself, there was nothing she could do. Instead she called 911 and tried to send the boys home. Fascinated by the macabre scene, they refused to go until Gina promised to give their names on the police report. Then she sat on the porch, eating Halloween candy straight from the bowl as full night settled over the town.
The ambulance arrived quickly but paramedics could not free the now conscious Hershel. In a very few minutes the Fire Department Rescue Unit arrived, followed by a police car. Neighbors were out watching the show, now. Trick-or-treaters paused to take in the flashing lights, crackling radios, and suffering victim before moving on to the next sugar bonanza.
While responders struggled with the rescue, Gina thought about what one of the boys had said. Apparently her father had put on a Halloween ‘shadow show’ for them before. That seemed to show he’d come to an accommodation with the shadows after she’d run away. While promising, it failed to allay her growing fear of what else the shadows might have done.
A gentle touch made her jump. Dark shapes stretched across the porch; Monkeyboy performed a silly wiggle dance. Another long, matronly shadow stretched out a hand and touched Gina’s shoulder.
“Glad you’re home,” said the shadow, her voice a whisper that Gina easily heard over the noise from the driveway.
“Why did you do this?” She wanted to feel angry, but sad is all that came.
“Bad man hurt you, we hurt bad man.” Monkeyboy added his opinion by changing shape into something horned and clawed.
Gina asked the next question that made sense to her.
“Did you kill my Mom?”
“No. Sad she fell, but she saved you.” The shadows twisted into a warped illustration of the stairs inside. Gina watched a woman throw her baby to the shadows as she fell down the pictured stairs. “We saved you, all together.” The shadow stretched to touch the rest.
The next question popped out without thought.
“What about Daddy?” Gina knew the answer as soon as she asked.
“After you left, good to us. Could not save him, sorry, so sorry.”
“What happened?” Her voice was choked.
“Sick, so quick.” The shadows reformed to show a man in a chair struggling unsuccessfully to rise. “Broke the rules, talked to phone. Too late, too late.” All the shadows bowed sadly.
For the first time, Gina bawled in her grief. Shadows held her, comforted her, whispered solace as they had when she was a child.
More sirens announced the arrival of a tow truck escorted by a green and tan County Sheriff SUV. Freeing the moaning Hershel from the wreckage finally took four men on crowbars prying as the tow truck yanked the pickup away from the wall. Over an hour had passed before paramedics finally got Hershel into the ambulance.
Gina had herself more or less together by then. Paramedics prepared to leave, and the time was coming for explanations or lies. She found herself unprepared.
“Why is this happening?” She put her face in her hands. “Why are you here?”
“You want to hear the First Story? Long ago . . .”
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