Ray Garton - The New Neighbor

"I should have known," Pastor Quiller man said, his voice dry and hoarse. He shook his head with frustration. "I knew there was something wrong with that mist. Why didn't it occur to me?"

"No, Pastor Quiller man, I should have known," Robby said. "Ronald Prosky told me. I just… forgot, I guess, with everything else on my mind I -"

"Don't worry about it, son," Quiller man said. "It's too late now."

"But she's been out there all this time, probably going from house to house. She came to me at the glass door in the dining room. She came out of that damned mist, I should've known ."

"She came to my bedroom window," Jen said softly.

George nodded, saying, "She came to me while I was trying to fix the hole in the bedroom wall."

Quiller man said, "She might have gotten into some of the other houses, but she couldn't get in here because of the names on the front door." He looked around at the three of them quickly. "The first thing we have to do is make sure she doesn't get into any more houses. We have to keep her from swaying these people. We need to… trap her somehow. With her out of the way, maybe we can talk some sense into everyone else on this street."

"How?" George asked.

Quiller man closed his eyes and sighed hopelessly.

"What about the three names?" Robby asked. They all turned to him. "I mean the three angels' names on the door. If they'll keep her out of here, maybe they'll keep her in over there ."

“But you said she burst out of here while Prosky was writing the names on the door," George said. "What would keep her from doing the same thing over there?"

Robby chewed on his lower lip a moment, then said, "She rushed out of here before Prosky finished writing the names. He hadn’t completed the circle around them yet. Maybe if he had, she wouldn’t have been able to get out . I think I can do it fast enough – as long as it doesn't have to be done in charcoal. " He gave Quiller man a questioning look.

“I'm not sure if it makes any difference," the pastor said with a shrug. "I was not familiar with that particular method.”

"I could use, um… well, a Magic Marker, maybe," Robby said. "We've got some around here somewhere."

"Tool drawer in the kitchen," Jen said, as she stood and headed into the kitchen, following the beam of her flashlight.

"Can you write that fast, Robby?" George asked.

"I can try."

"You'll have to do more than try."

"He will," Pastor Quiller man said with calm certainty.

The neighborhood was tomb silent. With the streetlights out of working order and all the windows dark, Deerfield was blacker than Robby had ever seen it before.

He had practiced writing the three angels' names and circling them with a Magic Marker several times on a yellow legal pad until the movements of his hand and wrist became automatic and fluid. Pastor Quiller man had said a prayer, and at his dad's insistence, Robby had gone out the back door and rounded the house cautiously, just in case someone had been watching the front door.

With a flashlight tucked beneath his arm and a Magic Marker in a pocket of his black jacket, Robby walked along the tall wooden fences that separated their yard from the next. When he reached the sidewalk, he walked a few yards north before crossing the street, then moved south toward Lorelle's house.

The reporter's car was still parked at the curb several yards past Lorelle's house but he couldn't see the woman or her cameraman. He hoped they wouldn’t see him.

His heart pounded in his throat and, in spite of the cold, he felt sweaty, as if he'd run a great distance. He rounded a corner of sharply trimmed shrubs and stepped onto Lorelle's lawn, stopping for a moment to stare at the front door. He couldn't see the door itself, only a vaguely rectangular opening that was darker than black. The door could be open for all he knew. Lorelle could be standing in that blackness watching… waiting for him… Lorelle or her dogs.

He realized he'd been holding his breath and let it out suddenly in a swirling vapor, then started across the lawn as -

– Pastor Quillerman knelt on one knee by the sofa, praying, while George and Jen stood at the front window. The flashlights were out and the house was dark.

"I can't see him," Jen said.

George pointed. "There he is, on her lawn."

Pastor Quillerman prayed quietly at the sofa, then stopped abruptly and remained silent for a long moment, until George and Jen turned toward his vague shape in the darkness.

"Where is Karen?" the pastor asked.

"She's in the guest bedr -" George froze. "Oh, God," he breathed, flicking the flashlight on and rushing out of the room and down the hall. Jen and Pastor Quillerman followed him. He pounded on the door several times and shouted, "Karen! Karen, what're you doing? Are you awake?"

They listened silently, but there was no response.

George tried the doorknob, but it was locked. They pounded the door and called her again.

Nothing.

Swearing under his breath, George spun around and rushed into the master bedroom, leaving Jen and Pastor Quillerman in the dark hall.

Robby walked carefully on the balls of his feet up the front steps of Lorelle Dupree's house, taking the Magic Marker from his jacket pocket. He took the cap off, put it in his pocket and stood before the door in complete darkness.

He listened closely for any sounds and when he heard nothing, he took the flashlight in hand, turned it on and lifted the pen. He paused, took a deep breath which he let out slowly, then began to write as fast as he could.

Jen and Pastor Quillerman watched the darting flashlight beam in the master bedroom as George pulled out a dresser drawer, shuffled through its contents, slammed it, then opened another. He finally returned with a key, which he slipped into the guest room lock and turned. He pushed the door open, calling, "Karen? Hon?" and shined the flashlight into the room.

The window was open and the room was empty.

Karen was gone.

"Oh, god," Quillerman whispered.

Robby's hand raced through the letters of the last angel's name as his heart beat faster and his throat grew tight. The instant he finished the last name, his hand swept quickly around all three, enclosing them in a circle as -

– a sound erupted from inside the house that was worse than anything Robby had ever heard, a screaming sound more monstrous and inhuman than he thought possible, and it grew louder and louder, impossibly loud, until -

– every window in Lorelle's house exploded outward and shards of broken glass cascaded over the lawn and sidewalk.

George and Jen and Pastor Quillerman stood frozen in the doorway of the guest room, their eyes wide as they listened to the horrible sound from across the street. George broke away from them muttering, "Karen, oh my god, Karen," and ran down the hall.

Robby staggered backward down the porch steps and the flashlight beam swept over Lorelle's marked door as it bulged outward until it splintered in the middle, and -

– the sound only grew louder, until Robby could feel it slicing through his bones as he ran across the lawn, glass crunching under his feet, until a familiar voice shouted -

– "Robby!"

The voice caught him so completely by surprise that his legs failed him and he tumbled to the ground, rolling over jagged pieces of glass that cut through his clothes and skin. He rolled over, sat up, faced the house and aimed the flashlight in the direction of the voice, hoping it was not the voice he thought he’d heard.