Private Ryan
Author's note: This chapter I would not recommend anyone read while eating, some details can be and are a bit graphic. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.
"In 1973, eight people held up in that house because of a bad storm one night. The rain had washed out the road ahead and they had no choice but to stay. They – turned in and – the next day the sheriff had to be called up there because someone saw them go in and it was private property and while the owners were gone, trespassers weren't allowed. So they went up there, and they found that the people had all been killed, dead, right there in the beds. But – they were never able to find out who did it – or how – the doors and windows were all locked...and we're talking about a house that was pretty damn strong –the doors locked liked vaults, before the panes were put in, the windows had bars of steel a jail would be proud of – they never figured out how it had happened, or why – Eight different people who never met before in their lives, all from different locations, different lifestyles, different careers, everything about them was different, all they had in common was that one night – Finally, in 1981 they knocked the damn place down – which is why you now have a 3-story near mansion in that same area that looks like it belongs in the deep south."
"What?" Richie asked, "That's crazy."
"That's bull-shit," Jeremy added.
"It is not," the young woman replied, "hell, my father still has the newspaper articles – they were never able to find out how or why – a house locked up that tight – and someone came in and killed them all off, and vanished without a trace. When they started building that fancy house in place of it, the governor himself said he didn't know why anyone would want another house there – or why anyone would want to live there afterwards – because the next person just might end up dead as well – dying a merciless, bloody death."
All three people sat in silence and glanced at each other, the silence was broken by a sudden screech on the window. The teenagers screamed and jumped when they heard it, then the front door opened, and then in stepped a man and a woman, both looking in their 30s.
"Mister MacLeod, you trying to give us a heart attack or something?" the girl asked.
"No."
"Well it worked," Jeremy said, "I get one more scare like that, all my hair's going to turn white."
"So what have you three been up to all this time?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing, just trying to scare the hell out of each other," the girl replied.
"Yeah, something my sister has plenty of experience in," Jeremy said, "hey Richie, you think you could come back over later? I have a friend showing up tonight and I'd like you to meet him."
"Just so long as I don't have to eat your sister's cooking, I'm allright with that," Richie said.
"Richie," Tessa said.
"Oh, sorry Tess, you guys wanna try Denise's cooking? It ain't that bad, just feels like a rock in your stomach and keeps you up half the night," Richie said.
"Thanks for the invitation but we'll pass," Duncan replied, "anyway, I don't believe that that's what Tessa meant."
"Oh yeah, sorry, I'm still new to this permission thing," the redhead blushed.
"Well Jeremy, we'll see about letting Richie come over tonight – after he picks up his room like he promised he had earlier."
Richie rolled his eyes and turned a brighter shade of pink.
Richie should be thankful Tessa just knows about his room being a mess, Duncan thought, and not the other thing.
"Well, if Richie gets done in the salt mines tonight, just send him back over, we'll keep an eye on him," Denise said.
"And if he misbehaves we'll be sure and hogtie him," Jeremy added.
"Well thank you but I don't think that'll be necessary," Tessa laughed, "but if Richie gets his room finished before midnight, we'll send him back."
"Well we better get going, it'll be getting dark soon," Duncan said.
"Yeah, see ya guys later," Richie added as they headed to the front door.
"Well Richie, your friends seem nice," Tessa said.
As they headed down the sidewalk, Denise ran to the front door and called out from the front porch to Richie, "See you later, frizz head."
"– Yeah," Richie said after a few seconds.
Richie didn't know why Denise had to call him that. He didn't know why she picked on him at all, just because she was older than him, he supposed she saw it as something she was able to do. Denise was 19, she'd attended college at 17 but after 2 years she decided it wasn't for her, so she dropped out and headed back home to take care of her little brother, Jeremy, who was Richie's age. Regardless of his age, she still saw it as her duty to watch after him when their parents were gone, which was most of the time. Richie came over just about every day to see them, aside from Nick and Angie, they knew him just about as well as anyone.
They met when the boys were six, they were living in foster homes just next to each other. The parents seemed nice at first, but after some time it seemed that the kids did whatever it was that the parents didn't want them anymore. Or couldn't control them, or whatever it was. Richie could understand why people got tired of him, but Jeremy and Denise seemed like angels compared to him – okay, so they were angels when people were watching them, but the minute their backs were turned, the kids were just themselves. Finally when the boys were ten, Jeremy and Denise moved away, they'd just caught up again shortly after Richie moved in with Duncan and Tessa. It was the weirdest meeting, Richie was running from Sergeant Powell after he tried to get him to come back to the station for questioning, after he'd lost him a few blocks back, he ran into Jeremy, literally, and they both hit the street. When Jeremy recognized Richie, they got up and hid in an alleyway, once Powell was out of sight (and out of mind), they headed to the antique shop and got acquainted once more.
As it turned out, they hadn't changed too much, they were both just mischievous boys looking for a good time, and Denise was still the same sister she was, protective of her brother one minute, and putting him in a full nelson the next. She often warned Richie if he tried anything smart with her, she'd put him in a headlock. Now Richie knew how Jeremy had come out of foster care alive, he had his older sister looking after him.
So that's what it's like to have older siblings, Richie thought, at least, real siblings. In his time he'd had his share of foster brothers and sisters, some older, some younger, all the same, they never liked him. Of course they would have their way with him when the parents weren't watching, but in all truthfulness, the parents were even worse. Which was why Richie was glad he'd met Duncan and Tessa, at least they cared about him. Really cared about him, not like the foster parents who looked like saints in public, then turned into Joan Crawford and John Gacy Sr. when they were behind closed doors. That's why Richie liked these two who took him in, sure they were strict at times, but they never raised a hand to him.
Richie slipped into the backseat of the T-Bird as Duncan and Tessa got in around front. Richie looked over at the front window to Jeremy's house, he saw the two talking, maybe even arguing about something. At first he wasn't sure what to make of it, but then he saw Denise point up the street, up to the red brick house. The same one she told him about earlier. Richie felt his face go pale as he saw the house. Sure he'd seen it before, but he never really paid much attention to it. Now that he did, he realized how similar it was to the mortuary.
"Richie, are you allright?" Duncan finally asked, "You've certainly been quiet."
"Yeah," Richie forced himself to say, "I just – I'm glad to see those two again, we don't act like it, but we get along great."
"That's what you told people before, right?" Duncan smirked.
"Yeah, everybody saw us as three angels – I feel sorry for the idiots who did, they never had a clue," Richie said.
"Richie," Tessa said, "how come their parents are never home? We've been over there to get you four times this week, and I haven't seen anybody except for the three of you there."
"They're there, just not a lot, they both have jobs that take time to get to and come back –sometimes they have to stay at their work for several days before they come home," Richie said.
"What do they do?" Duncan asked.
"Uh – their mom is a lawyer, and their dad's a therapist, I usually wait till they're gone though, to go over, I don't want him asking me any questions," Richie said.
"Don't they like you?"
"Oh yeah, they know me, I just don't want any 'specialist' asking me how I am," Richie insisted, "that's all."
Richie folded his arms into his chest and let out a mild yawn as he adjusted his position in the backseat.
"Are you allright, petit?" Tessa asked, gazing into the rear-view mirror.
"Yeah, just tired, oh boy," Richie sighed, "I think I'm gonna sleep tonight, like a rock."
"I think you mean like a bump on a log," Tessa said.
"No, trust me, Tess," Duncan smirked, "he means a rock. Nothing will wake him these days. He could sleep through a tornado."
Richie had finished dinner and gotten back to straightening up his room. The main reason he was so anxious to get it done was he didn't want Tessa to find out about his magazines. He picked up two of them and slipped them in the pillowcase on his bed. The sheets had just been done that day so he didn't need to worry about hiding them for another two weeks. He picked up another one and slipped it in amongst several books on the shelf. Then he gathered up the miscellaneous pages from others that had been thrown out, and slipped them in between the pages of his dictionary. The rest of his room had already been taken care of, but if Tessa found out he was a Playboy fan, there would be trouble.
Richie had just finished reorganizing his "unmentionables" and plopped down on his bed when Tessa came in. She looked around the room and briefly gazed at this and that, and walked over to the bed. Richie felt his heart rise in his throat, he hoped Tessa wouldn't insist that the wrinkles in his pillow be smoothed out.
"Well Richie, I must admit, you've done an excellent job on this room," she told him.
It better be an excellent job, Richie thought, I've been working on it for over three hours with a twenty minute break for dinner.
"Are you tired, petit?" she asked.
"No," he replied.
Damn exhausted is what I am, he thought.
"Well," Tessa glanced at the clock, "It's a quarter to seven, considering you've been working in here all day and haven't complained – you can head over to Denise's house if you like."
"Thanks Tess," Richie grinned.
"But you're not going out without your coat, the weatherman is predicting rain for after midnight – if it starts raining while you're down there, you call us when it's time to come home, understand?" she asked.
"Sure," Richie said as he got up from the bed.
Richie opened the door to the closet and dug around for his coat while Tessa made herself comfortable on the bed.
"You know Richie, we just washed these sheets, you should smooth the wrinkles out of them," she said.
Richie felt his heart skip a beat, he turned around and saw Tessa run her hands across the top of the pillow, until every last wrinkle in the pillowcase was gone.
"There, now this room can be lived in," she smiled.
Richie exhaled and turned back around to get his coat out of the closet.
"Well Tess, see you in a few hours," he said as he slipped into it.
"Have a good time and remember," she said.
"Call if there's a problem," they said in unison.
"Right, I don't want to worry about you," Tessa said as she headed over to her bedroom.
"Okay, see you later Tess," Richie said as he hurried down the stairs.
Richie felt his face turn red from the cold air as he made his way down the broken sidewalk leading down to the next street. It was getting dark early nowadays and by this time, the only light was from the streetlights, peoples' homes, and the moon and stars sometimes, depending on the weather. Tonight, the only light Richie had was the streetlights at the corners of every street. Richie didn't use to mind the dark, it helped him come and go as he pleased after pulling a job in someone's home or a jewelry store. Now that he was staying with Mac and Tess, he realized he'd become a bit paranoid in these situations. He'd be walking by himself in near pitch darkness and he'd jump at the slightest noise.
Like clockwork, Richie felt his heart speed up when he heard something from behind. He turned around quickly and saw nothing move. He looked around in the darkness for a few minutes, only to find nothing. Laughing at himself, Richie turned back around and when he took a step forward, he heard something pop. Richie felt an awful pain rush through his left leg and he fell on the pavement, moaning in pain. After struggling to get back on his feet but to no avail, and spending a few minutes groaning and writhing in agony, Richie turned over onto his hands and knees so he'd have a better chance of standing up. He slowly rose off his knees and got on his feet, then he slowly arched his back as he got up, when he felt someone touch his shoulder.
Richie let out a startled shriek as he jumped up and turned around, standing behind him was a middle-aged man with blondish-white hair and large glasses, in a gray and white business suit.
"Pardon me, I saw you from my living room window and thought you might need some help, are you allright?" he asked Richie.
Richie looked at the man for a minute, he didn't know why, but there was something about this man that sent icy chills down Richie's spine.
"Uh – uh – uh yeah, I just – think I pulled something," Richie finally said.
"Well that's terrible, can you walk?" the man asked him.
"Yeah, I can walk," Richie said.
Walk, hell, he thought, after that near heart attack I feel like running as far as I can to get away from that guy.
Richie reached the corner and just down the street from there was Denise's house, he turned his head briefly and saw the man go inside of the red brick house. The same brick house that Denise had told him about.
"What the hell?" Richie asked himself.
Richie ran across the street and headed up to the porch and banged on the door a couple of times.
He heard the knob turn and the door pulled back a crack, and Denise looked out, "you here alone?" she asked.
"Yes," Richie said as he gasped for air.
The door closed and the chain was taken off and Denise opened the door again and let Richie in.
"What happened to you?" she asked as she noticed his heavy breathing, "you just get through with a hooker or something?"
"No," Richie grunted, "I ran all the way here – Denise, do you know there's a guy living in that brick house up the street?"
Denise shut, chained and bolted the door before she turned around and walked with Richie into the living room, "What?"
"On my way over, something in my leg popped and –"
"Where?" Denise asked.
"That's private," he said, "anyway, as I was standing up, this guy came out of nowhere, he's got white hair and he was wearing a gray suit and a vest."
"Drew Mason," Jeremy said.
"What?" Richie asked.
"That's the macadamia nut's name," Denise explained, "Drew Mason, he moved in a couple of years ago – that basket case is into that fancy-ass opera music. He plays it on his piano almost every night. It's like – like – what is it?"
"It's like that music they use in those old silent movies," Jeremy said.
"Thank you," Denise said.
"He'd have to be a basket case to live there, doesn't he know what happened?" Richie asked.
"Of course he does, the whole damn town knows what happened, but he doesn't care. I guess he doesn't get scared easily," Denise said.
"Either that or he's just too stupid to leave," Jeremy said.
"What'd he say to you?" Denise asked Richie.
"Not much really, why?" Richie asked.
"Nothing, he's just a weirdo, and don't you be hanging around him," Denise told him.
"Why?"
"Well, I'm not going to say he's harmless, but we don't know much about him, but there's something about him that we just don't trust," Jeremy said.
"But don't let him make you a paranoid bundle of nerves," Denise said.
"Who me?" Richie nervously laughed, "oh no, of course not, never, no. – So what did you want me to come over for?"
Denise turned to Jeremy and said, "Go get the tape."
"What tape?" Richie asked.
Jeremy went over to the bookcase in the den and took out a videotape in a transparent clamshell, "possibly one of the worst horror movies you'll ever see."
"That's what you said about your home movies, Jeremy," Richie said.
"True, some of those were pretty bad," Denise said as she took the tape from Jeremy, "but this is something far worse. A foreign horror movie "Revenge of the Living Dead Girls"."
"Neat, I get it, something sexy, something scary–" Richie said.
"And something to make you puke," Jeremy added, "come on, let's watch."
They headed into the living room, Jeremy and Richie plopped down on the couch while Denise started it.
"I hope this movie's better than the last one, the last one was pretty bad," Jeremy said.
"Yeah well you have someone bound and gag you and carve their name in your chest and tell me if it was good for you," Denise said.
"Will you two shut up?" Richie asked, "the movie's starting, everyone quiet."
"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
Denise shut the tape off, "Well Richie, what do you think?"
"I think I'm going to be sick," he weakly replied.
Denise turned on the lights and noticed that Richie had turned pale sometime during the movie, "poor thing," she smirked, "maybe next time we watch a movie, it should be "Don't look in the Basement", or how about "I saw what you did", or maybe "Theatre of blood", how's that strike you?"
Richie groaned as he got up and ran into the kitchen. Denise and Jeremy followed and found him with his head in the sink, throwing up. Denise went over to the sink and turned on the faucet, she washed the regurgitated contents down the drain, and then she dampened a rag and cleaned Richie's lips and his chin, then the inside of his mouth that was still covered with it.
"Oh God," he moaned.
"Easy, easy, slow down your breathing, you're not in an aerobics class," she said, "Jeremy, go get that stuff out of the medicine cabinet."
Jeremy went past the kitchen sink and the two of them and headed into the bathroom. Richie lowered his head in the sink as he expected to be sick again.
"You're allright, Richie," she told him, "just calm down."
Richie weakly shook his head in response and squeezed his eyes shut as he started retching again.
Jeremy came back out of the bathroom with a bottle in his hand, "here you go."
Denise took the bottle, screwed off the lid and brought the bottle to Richie's lips. Richie groaned in protest, but Denise wasn't taking no for an answer, she finally forced the neck of the bottle past his lips and tilted it enough for him to take in a good amount of the contents in the bottle.
"What is that?" Richie asked when she took the bottle away.
"Stomach medicine, it'll work soon," Denise said as she screwed the lid back on.
"I can't go home like this," Richie groaned, "they're gonna think I'm drunk."
"Don't worry Richie, what time do you have to go home?" Jeremy asked.
"Eleven."
"And what time is it now?" Jeremy asked.
"Little after nine," Denise said, "don't worry Richie, the medicine will kick in long before then."
"What do I tell them?"
"Why tell them anything?" Jeremy asked.
"Never mind him," Denise said, "tell them that it was a crappy night, no one liked you, and vice versa, but there was no trouble."
"If it was a crappy night, I think I'd be home long before eleven," Richie said.
"True," Denise said, "we'll just say you fell asleep, come on, let's get you on the couch."
Denise placed Richie's arm around her and helped him into the living room and Jeremy followed close behind.
"You sure your folks won't mind if they come home and find me here?" Richie asked.
"You kidding?" Jeremy asked, "Our folks are out of town on business."
"They'll be gone for about three days," Denise added as she helped Richie down on the couch, "so if your warden's willing, you can come over here anytime you like for the weekend, day or night."
"Try telling him that," Richie said.
"We'll think of something, you just rest until its time to take you home," Denise said.
"What time is he coming home?" Duncan asked.
"We decided on eleven."
"We, that meaning us, right?" Duncan asked.
"Of course."
"Allright."
"What's wrong, Duncan?" Tessa asked.
"I don't know, maybe I've just gotten paranoid, but I have a bad feeling about Richie going down there every day," Duncan replied.
"What could possibly happen?" Tessa asked, "Denise is a level-headed girl, she's looked after Jeremy for all these years, she can look after Richie too."
That may be, Duncan thought, but she can only protect him for so long.
Richie woke up and saw Jeremy and Denise watching him from either end of the couch.
"What time is it?"
"10:55, ready to go home?" Denise asked.
"Sure."
Richie slipped off the couch and was halfway out the door when Denise came out behind him, "Where do you think you're going?"
"Home," he said.
"Not by yourself you're not, you're coming with me," Denise said.
"What?" Richie asked.
Denise jumped off the front porch and headed to the backyard, Richie followed and saw a red beat-up pickup truck. Denise jumped in the driver's seat and started it, she drove it near the end of the driveway and stepped on the brakes, "jump in" were her only words.
Richie went around the front and got in the passenger side, "Your parents actually left you to drive this thing?"
"We gotta have some way of getting around," she said, "now, there's no seatbelts in here so hold onto the door handle."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Richie asked.
"Believe me, you won't get that door open until we park, besides it's the only way to keep from jumping up and hitting your head on the roof of the truck when we hit a speed bump or a pothole or if the ride's just plain bumpy. Now hold on so we can get out of here," she told him.