Rob Zombie - Lords of Salem

Very slowly the woman lifted the washcloth off her face and revealed herself to be Margaret Morgan.

She seemed to be looking out of the TV screen and at Heidi in the actual tub, and then, on the screen, bubbles started to plop up through the bloody water, as if it had started to boil. Slowly, something began to rise between Margaret Morgan’s legs, but only gradually did it become clear that it was the misshapen head of the small creature with bulbous red eyes that, a moment before, when she had stood in the doorway, had been gripping her leg. It opened its mouth and smiled, bloody water running off its head and plopping grotesquely back into the tub.

Then, very slowly, both Morgan and the misshapen creature slid lower in the tub and disappeared beneath the water.

And then suddenly the TV switched itself off.

Chapter Twenty-nine

The bathroom was silent except for the noise of Heidi’s breathing. She lay in the tub, soaking, trying to relax.

After a moment she sighed. Her hand fumbled blindly for the glass of wine balanced on the edge of the tub, without finding it. She groped again, but the wineglass didn’t seem to be there. Maybe she’d put it on the floor.

She reached up and pulled the washcloth off her face. She was already half turning and reaching to search for the wineglass when she stopped, seeing the water gone murky and bloodred all around her. What the fuck? she thought, and then thought she must be hallucinating. She closed her eyes and opened them again, but the tub was still brimming with blood.

She scrambled back, the bloody water sloshing all around her and slopping over the sides and onto the floor. She was trying to get her feet under herself to get out of the tub but they kept slipping, the blood spattering her face and hair.

She opened her mouth and let out a piercing scream, but as she did something erupted out of the bloody water, spattering blood everywhere. It was, impossibly, another woman, somehow in the tub at the same time as she. But something was wrong with her, her arms bone thin and seemingly bloodless beneath the skin, her eyes darting madly about in the sockets. Heidi scrambled back, trying to sit up, trying to get out, but the woman was already upon her, grabbing Heidi by the throat and beginning to squeeze.

Heidi felt her body tense, felt the woman’s thumbs digging into her neck, cutting off her windpipe. She kicked and thrashed, trying to break the woman’s grip, bloody water sloshing up and over the sides and going everywhere. Bloody water was in her mouth and eyes. She tried to scratch out the madwoman’s eyes, but the woman hissed and turned her head and she couldn’t quite get to them. Heidi beat on her arms, then tried to pry her fingers away, but they wouldn’t come loose.

Her vision was beginning to blur. Oh God, she thought, I’m going to die. And then the woman came closer and hissed again, smiling this time, bloody water dripping from her mouth.

Heidi made a last effort and turned her body hard, dragging on the woman’s arms at the same time. With a bang, the woman’s head crashed into the wall, cracking the tile, but the movement made Heidi slide lower in the tub, the water lapping against her chin now.

The woman’s grip loosened a little and Heidi gasped in some air. Before the woman could recover, Heidi did it again, as hard as she could this time, and this time the woman’s head struck violently enough to leave a splash of black blood on the wall. She gave a hideous unearthly scream, and a thick black liquid began to spew out of her mouth, getting in Heidi’s eyes, blinding her. She struggled to break the woman’s grip, but still she wouldn’t let go, and instead bore down hard, making Heidi slip even lower in the tub, forcing her head underwater, knocking it repeatedly against the tub’s porcelain bottom. Heidi struggled, tried desperately to break the woman’s grip, tried to get her head up and above the water, but the woman held on, bore down even harder. Heidi could hear her continuing to scream, the sound muffled beneath the water but still audible. She opened her eyes and tried to see, but could make out nothing beyond the redness of the bloody water.

And then, suddenly, the screaming stopped and the pressure eased. She shot up from the water, still struggling, still fighting to break free, and gasping for breath. She braced herself for another attack, her fists cocked.

But somehow the woman was no longer there. Heidi’s gaze darted around, her heart pounding rapidly, coughing up the water that had gotten into her lungs. The water was no longer bloody. It seemed completely normal. What the fuck had happened? The fluid that had splashed all over was normal water as well, nothing unusual about it, and the woman simply wasn’t there. The tile splash guard above the tub was uncracked, no sign of blood anywhere. The TV channel was back to normal, showing the same Fred Astaire movie, and reception was perfect now.

Had she imagined it all? Dreamt it? But then why did her throat hurt? Was it simply that she’d swallowed water? No, she could still feel the woman’s thumbs on her throat, was sure that if she got up and looked in the mirror she’d see the bruises they had left.

But if it had been real, wouldn’t Steve have been in here barking his head off? Come to think of it, where was Steve? Why hadn’t he come when she’d been splashing and gasping for air?

Her head was still spinning and she was still out of breath, adrenaline coursing through her body. She tried to stand up and leave the tub but she was too dizzy and had to sit back down again, splashing back into what little water was left in the tub. She gathered her knees to her chest and leaned against the wall, shaking, trying and failing to make sense of what might have just happened.

Chapter Thirty

After a while, she’d gathered herself enough that she could drain the tub and climb out. Dazed and still shaken, she stumbled from the bathroom to collapse facedown on the fainting couch. She lay there for a few moments, catching her breath, and then lifted her head and crawled toward the phone sitting on the table just beside the couch. Trembling, she picked up the receiver.

But who could she call? Herman maybe? His wife would be pissed if she called in the middle of the night but Herman would do his best to help her—he’d done that before. Her dealer? He’d be glad to hear from her, but his idea of helping her would probably be fronting her some product and gear, just to get her going with him again. No, that was out. Whitey? He’d probably come and sit with her awhile, but that’d be using him in a way that she didn’t feel comfortable with. The police? What would she tell them? I’ve been attacked in my own bathroom, by some sort of corpse thing, nearly drowned, but there’s absolutely no evidence . They’d think she was crazy. Maybe she was.

She should just throw on a robe and go down and knock on Lacy’s door, she told herself. She could make up some story to tell Lacy and Lacy would probably let her crash on her couch. As long as she wasn’t alone, she’d be okay, even if Lacy and her sisters had ended up freaking her out as bad as anyone.

But she usually wasn’t alone, she told herself. Usually, she had Steve.

Where the fuck was Steve, anyway?

“Steve?” she called. “Steve?” She whistled, but he didn’t come. She put the phone down and stumbled into the kitchen, looking for him. He wasn’t there, but the floor was dotted with bloody paw prints. And she was only now realizing she hadn’t seen them when she’d come back from Lacy’s—had she been that drunk? She’d assumed he’d been asleep but she hadn’t even checked. What kind of dog owner was she?

The paw prints mostly milled around near the door, and the door was splintered where Steve had been scraping at it. One set of bloody tracks, though, led away from the door and through the living room, toward the bedroom.