Bentley Little - The House

No.

Her father, her biological father, walked into the kitchen. "What's going on in here?" he asked. "What's taking so long? We're thirsty out there."

Her mother stared at him with a blank, unreadable expression, and whatever else he'd been intending to say died in his throat. "Go back out there with our guests,"

she said. "I'll bring the lemonade out in a minute."

He nodded.

"Father?" Laurie said.

"Yes?"

"Stop seeing her. Stop seeing Dawn."

His face reddened, tensed, and he was about to say something, to respond angrily, but he glanced over at her mother's face and closed his mouth.

"She's evil," Laurie said.

He nodded tiredly, started to turn away.

They were doomed, she saw now. There was no way she could change anything, no way any of their future could be avoided. Still, she was glad she'd talked to them, and she felt a little bit better knowing that she'd at least made an effort.

"Go out there with your father," her mother said. "I'll bring the drinks in a minute."

Laurie nodded, gave her mother's hand a small squeeze, and she and her father walked back into the dining room where her future family waited.

Daniel The Other Side.

It was not something he could have anticipated, not even from those views through the windows of the other House.

It was not like any afterlife he had ever imagined.

There were no blue skies or fields of green, no cloud palaces, no geographical distinctions at all. There were no hydras or unicorns or banshees, no gods or monsters, no recognizable beings. Occasional indistinct blobs of blackness flew by, shooting past him as though shot from a cannon, but for the most part this world was empty, barren, devoid of even the smallest sign of life or movement.

He was floating in nothingness.

Doneenkneed him in the midsection, trying to dislodge his grip, but he held tightly on to her, ignoring her shrieks and cries, her hideous yelps and growls, wrestling with her in the open air, clutching her close to his chest.

He felt no pain, but she was as strong or stronger than he was, and even if she could not hurt him, she could get away from him.

He had no idea what to do with her. He'd wanted only to get her as far away from Tony and Margot as possible, and the Other Side seemed perfect for that, but what was next? Was he supposed to fight with her forever, to wrestle here with her for years in order to keep her occupied and give Tony a chance to grow up? He had to admit that he felt no flagging of his energy, no decrease in strength, and he had no doubt that he could continue tangling with her through eternity without becoming fatigued. But he did not want to. He wanted to do something with her, to get rid of her, to imprison her or put her out of commission.

To kill her.

His anger had not flagged either, and he tried to think of some way he could stop her permanently. His mother had said that he could restrain her but not destroy her, and he tried to find some loophole in that, tried to come up with some means to do her in. That would solve not only his family problem but the problems of Laurie and Norton and Stormy and Mark. Doneen was the only real threat to the Houses, and if he could put a stop to her once and for all, everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.

She squirmed in his grasp, was able to bend her arm and twist her hand in front of his face. Sharp claws snapped out from the ends of her fingers, and his first instinct was to push her away from him, but instead he butted her forehead with his, and used all of his strength and weight and the leverage granted him by size to twist her arm around her back.

She screamed wildly.

He still seemed to be tethered to the House, and for that he was grateful. He could see a line of Houses, far in the distance, the only discernible shapes in this horribly empty universe. There were a lot more than five of them. They stretched infinitely across what passed for a horizon, and although they appeared to be identical, one House, his House, blinked periodically from the highest window in its highest gable, an attic window, and at each pulse of light he- felt a slight tug, as though it were pulling on some sort of invisible cord connecting him to it.

That connection was the only thing keeping him from defeatism and despair.

God, he wished Billings were still alive.

He could've used some help.

Doneen changed in his hands, her left arm transforming into a green snake, her head morphing into that of Tony's first doll. He was supposed to be scared, frightened away, but he wasn't. She was the only constant in the world floating by them, her transformations at least contextually understandable and recognizable, and he continued to hold on to her as tightly as he could, as the doll head became a goat's head and snapped at him.

He kicked her crotch, was gratified to see her snap back into human form and howl in what sounded like pain.

In the opposite direction of the Houses, there were flashes of light in the far distance, flashes that looked like multicolored popcorn. Instead of flaring and fading, they remained, piled onto each other, slowly growing into something approximating a mountain. Both sky and ground were colors he did not recognize, but simply having a "sky" and a "ground," an up and a down, identifiable directions, was reassuring.

Where were his mother and father and all of the other generations of human dead? This world had seemed more hospitable before, and he was both puzzled and troubled by the absence of any presences. The thought occurred to him that there was not just the Other Side, that there were many sides, and that this one was her world, her hereafter.

This was where her kind went when they died.

The thought was not at all comforting.

She snarled at him, spit, and she was no longer a she but a he. A long red penis snaked up between them, its engorged head and wetslitted opening pressing against his closed lips, and he was tempted to open his mouth and bite it off, but he had the feeling that's what she wanted him to do, so he turned his head and maintained his pressure on her wrists, kicking at her lower section as hard as he could with his feet, sending them both tumbling head over heels.

The color of the sky changed as she transformed from female to male and back again, the only indication that she and this terrifyingly empty world were connected.

He maneuvered his hands until he was finally able to reach her neck. He let go of her hands, and she punched him, clawed at him, but he felt nothing and her blows did no damage. His fingers were firmly around her throat, and he tried to squeeze shut her windpipe, to strangle her, but his efforts had no discernible effect. He was not sure if she could be strangled, if she were breathing or if she even had to breathe, but he knew that it would not make any difference either way. His mother had been right, he could not kill her.

She understood what he was trying to do, and she stopped struggling for a moment, long enough to laugh at him.

"You should've fucked me when you had the chance,"

she said.

She pushed him hard away with both feet and both hands.

He was holding on to her only by the neck, and the sudden application of force sent him flying back.

"They're mine," she said, grinning. "They're all mine."

And she was gone.

Norton Norton awoke in the present.

The past was gone. He was back in the House that he'd shared with the others, only now he was alone.

There was no sign of Daniel or Laurie or Stormy or Mark, no indication that they were here or that they had ever been here. He was somewhere upstairs, somewhere in the center of the House that he didn't recognize. To his left, a hallway lined with opposing sets of closed doors stretched into the dimness. To his right, the same.