Kevin O'Brien - One Last Scream

Karen remembered something Naomi Rankin had told her about Annabelle always being the weaker twin. Amelia was the stronger one.

The cut across the palm of Amelia’s hand wasn’t too deep. Karen wrapped a wet dishtowel around her hand to slow the bleeding. Amelia admitted the searing pain in her stomach-exactly where her sister had been shot-was far more severe.

She promised to look after her twin sister. “Helene Sumner’s house is closer than Danny’s Diner,” she told Karen, catching her breath as they paused in the fallout shelter’s doorway. “You’re better off calling the paramedics from there.”

Furtively, Karen tried to pass the revolver to her, but Amelia shook her head. “I won’t need it,” Amelia whispered. “She won’t try anything.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” she said with a pale smile, “I can feel it, Karen.”

“Just the same,” Karen murmured. “I’ll leave this upstairs on the kitchen counter. You haven’t been through the living room yet, have you?”

Amelia shook her head. “No, why?”

“Don’t go in there if you can help it,” Karen said. “I’ll explain later.”

Coiled up on the bed, Annabelle let out another shriek. “Hurry, goddamn it! I’m bleeding to death!”

“Watch her like a hawk,” Karen whispered, giving Amelia’s shoulder a pat. She raced up the basement stairs. She left the revolver on the kitchen counter, and then ran out of the lake house.

That had been only five minutes ago, and yet it seemed like forever.

Helene’s dog started barking as Karen banged on the front door of her cottage. “Ms. Sumner!” Karen cried. “Ms. Sumner, I need to use your phone! Please! It’s an emergency!”

The old woman answered the door with a robe on and a rifle in her hand. It took her a moment before she seemed to recognize Karen from that afternoon. She held her collie by the collar while Karen, frazzled and out of breath, asked if she could use her phone to call the police. “There’s been a shooting at the Faradays’ cabin,” she explained. “Somebody’s hurt.”

“My goodness,” Helene murmured. She pulled her dog aside and cleared the doorway. “C’mon, Abby, move it. Come in, come in. I thought I heard a shot about fifteen minutes ago. The phone’s right there in the kitchen….”

Helene’s kitchen had a huge old-fashioned stove, a blue Formica-top breakfast table with three mismatched chairs, and the only working telephone in about a mile. It was a yellow, wall-mounted phone with a dial instead of a touch-tone pad. Karen called the police on it.

The 911 operator said they’d be at the Faradays’ house with the paramedics in fifteen minutes.

“Is it Amelia who was hurt?” Helene asked, once Karen hung up.

With a hand still on the receiver, Karen shook her head. “No, it’s-a relative of Amelia’s. Could I make another call? It’s long distance, but I’ll pay you back.”

Helene nodded. “Go ahead.”

Karen dialed George’s cell phone number. She nervously tugged at the phone cord and counted the ring tones. On the fourth ring, he picked up: “Hello?”

“George, it’s Karen,” she said, the words rushing out. “Is everyone okay there?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine,” he said, sounding just as anxious as she was. “Thank God you called. I’ve been so worried. How are you? How’s Amelia?”

Relieved, Karen just wanted to sink down in one of the chairs at Helene’s breakfast table. But there was no time. She quickly explained to George what had happened. “I’m not sure if Annabelle’s going to pull through,” she said.

“Well, her boyfriend didn’t make it,” George remarked. “Just a second…”

Karen heard him talking with someone on the other end. Then he got back on the line. “We’re here at the West Seattle police station,” he said. “My house is a mess. We can’t go back there tonight, and Jessie says all the hotels in town are booked. She thought you wouldn’t mind putting up Jody, Steffie, and me for the night.”

“Not at all,” she said. “There’s plenty of room. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Jessie has a key.”

“Thanks. Think you and Amelia will make it home tonight?”

“It might be a few hours, yet,” Karen said, still catching her breath. “We’ll have a lot to explain to the police here.”

“I’m probably in for the long haul myself,” George said. “Salem’s finest have quite a few questions for me. If I make it to your house before you and Amelia, I’ll wait up for you.”

“That would be really nice, George,” she said with a little smile. “Listen, I should get back to Amelia and her sister.”

“Please, be careful, Karen,” he said.

“See you later-at my house.”

She hung up, and then started to dig into her purse. “Thank you, Ms. Sumner. Do you think five dollars will cover it?”

Frowning, Helene shook her head. “Put your money away, for goodness sakes. Do you need any medical supplies? I have some bandages and hydrogen peroxide….”

“I think we’re okay,” Karen replied, heading for the door.

“What exactly happened?” she asked. “Did I just hear you say something about Amelia’s sister ?”

“I’ll explain it to you later, okay?” Karen said, still frazzled. She opened the door. “I really need to get back. Thank you again, Ms. Sumner.”

But Karen stopped abruptly. In the distance, she heard a strange pop-like a firecracker going off. Helene’s dog let out a yelp. The old woman put a hand over her heart. “My goodness, there it is again.”

Karen gazed at her and blinked.

“That’s the same sound as before,” Helene explained.

“Oh, no,” Karen whispered. She turned and started in the direction of the Faradays’ house. At first, she just took a few cautious steps, but then she started moving faster.

“I wouldn’t go back there!” Helene called. She held on to her dog’s collar to keep her from chasing after Karen. “Miss, I wouldn’t go there! That was a gunshot! Wait for the police!”

But Karen didn’t stop. She didn’t hear her. She was thinking about Amelia.

And she was running for her life.

Ten minutes before Frank Carlisle’s old revolver was fired for a second time that night, Amelia had been standing in the doorway of the fallout shelter. She’d watched over her twin sister, curled up on the cot with a bloody dishtowel on her stomach. Shivering in just her bra and jeans, Annabelle looked so vulnerable. There were patches of blood smeared on her exposed pale, creamy skin. Her every breath seemed like a struggle. “I’m cold,” she whispered, her teeth chattering.

“I know, I’m cold too,” Amelia replied, wincing as she clutched her own stomach. The cut on her hand was starting to sting, too. She wondered if her sister also felt it.

Amelia had bled all over that itchy old blanket when she’d slashed the palm of her own hand. She knew there were extra blankets up in the bedrooms. She’d told Karen earlier she didn’t think Annabelle would try anything. But she wasn’t so sure anymore. She noticed the large piece of glass still on the floor beside Annabelle’s shoes. Amelia and Karen had removed her brown suede flats in an effort to make her more comfortable.

Amelia quickly retrieved the shard of glass. “I’ll get you a clean blanket,” she said, finally.

“Thanks,” Annabelle whispered. It seemed like an effort as she lifted her head to look at her.

Amelia backed away from the fallout shelter, but then she hesitated. She had a bad feeling about leaving Annabelle unguarded. She didn’t know if it was her own intuition or if she’d read her sister’s thoughts. But suddenly she didn’t trust her.