Randy White - Haunted

She found it. “Who the hell opened that?”

My vision was so tunneled, I didn’t know what she meant until I followed her gaze to the opposite wall. The barred doorframe had swung open. I had closed it. I knew I had closed it. But to protest my innocence was, in fact, an admission that I had moved around the room.

“It was like that,” I said.

“It was not ,” she snapped and walked toward the door. “That’s the room where Theo’s mother sent him when he was bad. He never opens it. Ever. ”

I didn’t reply, just watched. Among the equipment near the milking table was a snake hook-not sharp, but on a five-foot aluminum pole. If I sat patiently until Lucia got to the door, I could have the thing in my hands and be ready when she turned around.

So I waited. The woman kept glancing over her shoulder to check on me. Maddening to pretend helplessness, but I did. Finally- finally -when she reached for the door, she looked away, but then spun around to surprise me.

I had just started to get up but stopped in time. Lucia continued to glare, one hand on the bars, her back to the door into the next room. I shrugged innocence and looked at the floor-which is when I saw what she had noticed: the tie wraps I had placed around my ankles were gone. They were several feet away where I had kicked them when I’d tried to stand.

Lucia raised the bamboo tube as if it were a flute. “You sneaky little bitch-show me your hands. You needed your hands to open this door.”

No more pretending for me. I stood and kicked the chair back-a metal chair that clattered across the tile. I was already moving toward the snake hook. “Call the police if you’ve got a complaint,” I said. “An ambulance, too, if you get in my way.”

I meant it. I didn’t waste a glance at the woman until I’d pocketed the box cutter and had the aluminum pole in my hands. Then I turned… but wasn’t prepared for the scene before me: Lucia had the bamboo tube to her lips and was zeroing in on me as if the thing were a blowgun.

A blowgun … ?

Yes, a blowgun. I hadn’t believed Theo when he said Lucia had studied with an Amazon tribe. But it was true. Extra darts, thin as needles, were visible in her right hand.

I yelled something, I’m not sure what, and hurled the pole at her, which clanged off the bars. Almost simultaneously, a wasp stung my left wrist. I looked down-not a wasp, a bamboo sliver three inches long. Lucia, her back pressed to the door, was loading the tube again as I twisted the needle out, careful not to snap off the point.

“Bet it burns like hell, doesn’t it?” She didn’t scream the question, instead sounded hopeful and eager, a woman whose pleasure would be delayed until I had experienced pain.

I picked up the folding chair to use as a shield. “What’s on those darts?”

Lucia was in no rush now. She had the tube loaded again. Twitched her nose in a way she thought was cute. “You’re bigger than most, so I’ll use five to make sure. Attractive girls”-a wicked smile-“usually only need two.” She braced her shoulder against the doorframe and raised the blowgun to her lips.

I ducked behind the chair and found a crack to peek through. Then I stood straight and forgot about everything else. “Get away from that door,” I told her.

Behind Lucia, through the hinged flap, a hand with freakishly long fingers had appeared. It was attached to an arm furred with auburn hair that glistened and snaked longer and longer as if squeezed from a tube or controlled by a contortionist. A fecal stink pushed ahead of it.

I started toward Lucia and yelled, “Get away from that door!”

Too late.

Long hairy fingers explored the hem of the woman’s robe, then sensed body heat. Lucia’s reaction was to turn and look. Then she opened her mouth to scream but instead made only a high-pitched choking noise.

It took a confusing moment before I understood: Lucia hadn’t lowered the blowgun. While screaming, she had inhaled one of her own darts.

By watching Lucia during the next few seconds, I learned something that would take time to understand: when panic transitions to horror in human being, God frees us from our bodies-an act of the greatest kindness. The sufferer is replaced by a mindless creature who is left to struggle and endure pain in the hope of escape.

For Lucia, there was no escape-unless I went to her aid. And I did go to her, although I’m not sure why. My reaction, however, was delayed by my own horror. The chimpanzee’s fingers, after burying themselves in her flesh, found her collar and tried to pull her through a slot no larger than a mailbox. Bones snapped. More bones snapped when he tried again. Finally Lucia fell after the robe ripped away. The chimp’s hand was searching for Lucia’s hair when I at last took action.

A moment later, I had the aluminum pole overhead, ready to strike. Lucia saw me, stared up with glassy eyes, and once again made a whistling noise because she couldn’t scream. Perhaps she feared I intended to hit her. That’s exactly what I didn’t want. So I waited for the chimp to extend his arm before I slammed the pole down. Unlike my distant aunts, Hannah and Sarah, I’ve never chopped wood for a living. But I have used an axe. I swung so hard, my feet came off the floor-and was rewarded by a screech from the other side of the door, then a furious baritone chatter that warned of revenge. Yet the chimp refused to let go of the woman’s hair.

I swung again… and again-finally, the animal’s hand retreated. Stupidly, I tossed the pole away and used both hands to grab Lucia’s waist and tried to push her out of danger. The smart thing to do would have been to reposition myself and pull , but I didn’t. Nor did I consider the length of a chimpanzee’s arms.

When I believed we were safe, I started to say, “I’ve got to roll you on your stomach because-”

That’s as far as I got. On my buttocks, I felt a tentative weight, then the chimp latched onto my belt. With my left hand, I reached back and clawed at his hairy wrist while I searched my right pocket for the box cutter. Before I could use it, I was yanked backward; I sledded across the tile and slammed into the door. My tailbone absorbed most of the impact. Pain radiated into my spine and caused the box cutter to spin to the floor. I was dazed, but the razor was still within reach. I grabbed it and slashed blindly. The chimp shrieked… Then I was free, lying on my side.

I rolled, and kept rolling, until I knew I was safe. When I looked up, Lucia was still in danger, so I lunged, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her away, too.

“Open your mouth!” I yelled. “Wider.”

She made a gagging noise but did it. I couldn’t see, but my fingers soon found the dart lodged in her throat. Gently, I jockeyed it free. It came out as two slivers. The point was sharpened like a needle, blackened as if it had been scorched.

“Did I get it all? Swallow. Open your mouth again-let me see.”

“He… would have killed me.” Her voice was raspy, but at least she could speak. “Why… why did you…?”

I steadied her head with my hands and for the first time noticed the pendant hidden beneath her dress: a silver ram’s head mounted on a pentagram. I knew its meaning but let it go. “We both need a doctor. What kind of poison is on those darts?”

Lucia shook her head. “Can’t move. Am I bleeding?”

Her spine was broken, I realized. “I need the key to the front door. I’ll call an ambulance. Tell me about the poison while I look for the key.”