Drive, Davis...Just Drive!
********************
"Just get a grip," Davis said to himself, as he climbed down the basement stairs- his only companion a flashlight of questionable vitality. The steps creaked and groaned under each pace, yielding the woods decrepit age and stability. With one hand tightly gripping the flashlight, and the other along the wall for support, Davis continued his descention into the dungeon.
He remembered that part the most about Bobby's story; the dungeon. That is what he had called the basement. And when Davis finally reached the bottom step, he could understand why. Before him were three tunnels, each formed from craggy concrete and leading off in different directions. He flashed his light down each one, inspecting for a fuse box somewhere along the walls. But all he found were cast iron rings spiked into the stone at regular intervals.
Since no tunnel particularly stood out, Davis decided to go with the one on his right. As he fielded his way, he let his flashlight bounce from the floor to the wall, then to the ceiling and down the opposite wall. He continued to follow the tunnel in such a manner, twisting and turning around endless corners, until he came to a dead end. Cursing, he turned and headed back.
A short while later Davis was back at ground zero. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he said, picking his next tunnel. This time choosing the one on his left he walked a little faster, more confident than he had been before. He bounced the light off the walls, same as before, but with more of a rhythm to his actions. Unconsciously, he picked up his own beat and began bobbing his head to the song playing out in his mind.
But when a new instrument joined in, Davis stopped. He didn't remember adding dripping water to his repertoire. He spun around, his light scanning the rough concrete for the source. But to no avail. The only new thing he noticed was the green and brown algae and moss sprouting from the cracks in the floor. Stepping over a rather large patch, Davis continued down the tunnel until he came to a break in one of the walls.
He leaned over to peer into the dark area and banged his head on an iron bar. Stepping back, Davis realized the bar belonged to a cell, or more to the point, an antiquated dungeon's cell.
"Good description, Bobby," Davis breathed, stepping away. "Dungeon's got my vote." He spun around and started back the way he had come. "So, why am I doing this exactly?" he asked himself, as he started to run.
"Cause I'm an idiot," he finished, as he slid into the clearing at the base of the stairs. Panting from his jaunt through the second tunnel, he sat down on the wooden chair to catch his breath. Then he sat up abruptly, his eyes wide.
"Chair?" he said, gulping down a large lump in his throat. "Where'd the chair come from?"
*** *** ***
Jimmy squirmed under the woman's embrace, finding her both comforting and frightening. His head was throbbing, and his nose was still stuffed, but as much as he wanted to crawl into a warm bed and sleep, he didn't want to do it here-or with her. He sat up slowly, stripping the woman from his shoulders and moved to the other end of the bench. "Maybe someone should go after..."
A loud clap of thunder reverberated outside, interrupting Jimmy and shaking the walls. It was followed by a blinding flash of lightening, which left the front hallway bathed in blackness once it resolved.
Several bumps and groans could be heard in the darkness, accompanied by a few child like shrieks and scrambling feet. A moment later, the lights were returned and Bosco found himself standing in the middle of the foyer while the others were either cowering in fear, or rubbing their foreheads in pain.
"And you wanted to know why I wore a helmet?" smirked Bosco, watching as Jimmy picked himself off the floor. He had jolted from his seat at the sound of the thunder and had tried to run for the front door. Obviously, he had missed. And Bosco found it rather amusing.
Bobby and Carlos released each other from their clasp, stepping away from each other in dramatic manhood. "How 'bout them Yankees?" asked Carlos, flexing his muscles in a jocular fashion.
Bobby rolled his head, also straining his biceps. "Yep. Gonna go far this year," he replied, his voice unnaturally deep.
*** *** ***
Downstairs, Davis had been saved the frightening chill of thunder and lightening. But he had other things to worry about, like where the chair had come from.
He rose slowly, backing away from the auspicious piece of furniture. He turned around, but stopped suddenly when he came face to face with a concrete wall. Spreading his arms along the wall, he pushed off and stared.
The tunnels were gone. In their place stood unforgiving concrete.
Davis was boxed in- surrounded on three sides by walls, and behind him by the staircase. It didn't take a genius to figure out what to do next. Davis scrambled up the winding staircase, dropping his wallet somewhere along his ascension. Several steps later, he paused and considered climbing back down to retrieve it, but decided an affirmative no when a cold blast of air blew past him- accompanied with the sound of a low murmur.
When he reached the top of the stairs, he fumbled with the doorknob until he finally got it to work. He shoved the door open. "Guys! Let's get out..."
He paused, realizing he wasn't in Kansas anymore.
He was standing in a long corridor richly decorated in hardwood and thick carpeting. Along the walls hung oil lamps; some lit, some dead. Between them were doors. And at the end of one hallway was a large window with branches scraping against it's pane. In the other direction was darkness.
Knowing what lay behind him, and not wanting to step further into darkness, Davis opted for the direction of the window and doors. But something kept scratching at the back of his mind- the woman.
Davis knew the mysterious woman lived up here, and he wasn't so sure he wanted to run into her. He tried to remember the stories, but somehow the memories were confusing. Bobby had mentioned something about the woman being in a room with a candle, and Bosco had spoken of her being in a room with a lamp and bookcase. Bosco had also mentioned that she had stepped out of a painting on the wall, but Bobby had seen nothing of the sort.
Davis considered that maybe one of them had been elaborating- since the woman's description seemed to be identical in both stories. And although it was easier to believe Bobby would be the elaborator, Bosco's story seemed the most unlikely.
But either way, it didn't help Davis' situation.
"Okay," he said. "I'm gonna go with Bobby on this one." He started down the hall, leaving the black hallway behind him. "Sorry, Bosco."
As he approached the window, Davis let his flashlight sway across it's pane- revealing the dark night on the other side.
The effect was startling. With the black back drop behind a curtain of reflective material, Davis could see his own reflection, albeit distorted and grotesque. He shivered and moved a little faster.
"I thought you said this wasn't even scary?" said a voice behind him.
Davis froze mid-step, one foot hovering over the carpet. He was too terrified to look behind him let alone move, but the voice had sounded familiar. Slowly, he let his eyes wander to the window where he pointed his flashlight. He could see his reflection again, but this time he was not alone.
He spun around, his arms out stretched and ready to throttle Bobby around the neck. "Don't go sneaking up on a guy like that!" cried Davis, his fingers poised inches from his friend's throat.
But Bobby was undaunted. He stood still, staring at Davis with a crooked smile. "Have you met her yet?" he asked.
Davis furrowed his brow, reciprocating his friend's odd stare. But he ignored the question. There was something different about Bobby- something not quite right, and Davis couldn't put his finger on it. He looked him up and down, trying to find the idiosyncrasy that was slightly askew.
Bobby just stared back at him with unblinking eyes.
*Right height. Right hair.* Davis thought to himself, making a mental analysis of his friend. *Right clothes. Right eyes-* His mind stopped.
He had found it.
Davis pointed at Bobby, his mouth agape. "Bosco," he breathed.
The man before him, the one he had known for months, no longer had his eyes, but the eyes of Bosco. It was subtle, but Davis could see it clearly now. Bobby wasn't just Bobby, but a mixture of himself and Bosco. The man shared the innate qualities of two people, making it difficult to distinguish between one or the other.
"Holy shit!" exclaimed Davis, backing away. He dropped his flashlight as he stumbled, trying to put distance between himself and the enigma. "No. Fucking. Way."
The Bobby-slash-Bosco tilted it's head and pointed down the hall over Davis' shoulder. "She is waiting," it said. "You don't want to keep her waiting. She can be very impatient."
Davis swallowed hard as he watched it back away from him- disappearing into the blackened abyss at the other end of the hall. In shock, it took him several beats before he was able to move his muscles. But when he did, they weren't to turn himself around and run.
Instead, Davis passed out. He hit the floor with a thud as his world coalesced into a dark nothingness.
*** *** ***
"Where'd she go?" asked Jimmy, turning in circles in the front foyer. With the lights back on, and after brushing himself off, it was the first thing he noticed. The woman in the gold dress who had taken kindly to him, had disappeared.
"Oh, this isn't good," breathed Bobby, looking over his shoulders. "This just isn't good."
Carlos and Bosco followed suit, each searching the foyer for Jimmy's nursemaid. But no one found her. They were alone.
Standing semi-circle in the middle of the room, they searched each other's eyes- each looking for the same thing within them; fear. No one wanted to voice their own fears, but if they could see it amongst the eyes of their friends, they would feel safe.
"Can you help my mother?" asked a small voice emanating from the hall leading to the parlor.
"Aaaah!" shrieked Bobby, turning to see the little girl, Sarah, standing behind them.
Jimmy stumbled backwards, landing in an awkward position on the bench. He pointed and gawked, trying to articulate his fear. But the only thing out of his mouth was, "Aaachhoooo!"
Carlos turned and ran, but tripped on the carpeting and fell to the floor.
Bosco tapped his head. "Helmet. Good," he said, nodding at his friend scrambling from the floor. Then he looked at the little girl. "Your mother?" he asked. "What's wrong with her?"
Bobby, now composed, stepped forward. "Let me guess. She's asleep and you can't wake her up?" he asked, his eyes rolling.
The girl looked back at them with questioning eyes. "How did you know?" she asked back, her tiny features reminiscent of a China doll.
Jimmy rose from the bench wiping his nose, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Cause we were here earlier," he said. "And if I remember...Aaachhoooo!....Correctly, I woke her up."
The girl stepped away, turning her green eyes to the sniffling man. "But we have never met," she replied. "I would remember you ,sir, if we had."
Jimmy gulped down his fear, dropped his hand from her shoulder and turned to the staircase. Using his hands as a mega-phone, he called up the stairs. "Davis!" he cried, straining every muscle in his neck. "Time to go! Get your butt back here now!"
But neither sound nor movement came from the shadows at the top of the stairs. In a collective blood pressure drop, four faces turned flush white.
"He is sleeping," said the little girl. "You can find him upstairs on your left."
The four white faces turned to the source of information, but not one spoke. A moment later, they were scrambling up the stairs in search of their friend- scratching and crawling over each other in an attempt to get to the top first.
Carlos, the winner of the great 'King-of-the-Hill' game, clambered onto the top landing and stood up. He looked back down the stairs to find his friends- sprawled and moaning, lying on different levels. Bosco and Jimmy had at least made it half way up before being pummeled by Carlos, but Bobby hadn't even got that far. Either he had been to scared to move fast enough, or he'd been used as the primary spring-board for everyone else.
But regardless of what had occurred, Bobby was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairs. He raised a hand and spoke slow. "You guys go ahead," he said, between coughs. "I'll just wait here till my bones mend, thank you."
Carlos shrugged, and a moment later he was joined by Jimmy and Bosco on the landing. To the left was what the girl had said, so they headed in that direction- Bosco out front since he had the helmet.
And it was a good thing he was wearing it, because several steps into the darkness he tripped over a body on the floor. With a thud, he hit the floor and rolled onto his back. "I love this thing," he said, as he rose and adjusted his protective gear. "Everyone should wear one."
"Whatever," replied Carlos, lowering himself to the floor. "Let's just get Davis, and get out of here."
"I'm with you," added Jimmy, hovering over Davis' still form. He shook him, calling his name, but to no avail.
"How'd you wake that woman again?" asked Bosco, trying to remember the story.
"I threw a glass of water on her," Jimmy frowned. Then, noting there was no glass nor water anywhere in the vicinity, he tried something different. He called his friend's name again, this time adding a few face slaps to the repertoire.
A moment later, Davis bolted upright into a sitting position- his face ashen, and his heart beating a mile a minute. Jimmy sat back on his heels in astonishment. "Wow, that was cool. It actually worked." He looked at Davis with a quizzical expression. "I've never passed out before," he said. "What does it feel like?"
Davis smirked. "Like this," he replied, slapping Jimmy in the face a few times. "Now, don't ever do that again or I'll bust your ass for assault!"
But before Jimmy could respond, Carlos interrupted. He hauled Davis to his feet. "See enough of the house yet?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "Cause we're all ready to go if you are."
Davis nodded his head. "No arguments from me," he replied. Then he turned to Bosco and pinched his arm.
"Ow!" cried Bosco, rubbing the sore spot. "What was that for?"
"Just checking," replied Davis. "Where's Bobby?"
"Waiting at the bottom of the stairs," Carlos said, pushing them all towards the staircase. "Now let's go already!"
They bounded down the steps, missing two and three at a time until they reached the main floor. Bobby was no longer lying on the floor tending to his injuries, rather, he was standing at the door holding it open and waving them all through.
"Like the song says," he said. "Let's move it, move it!"
Jimmy followed with a, "I'm so into that," as they all ran out of the house into the bleak night.
And as they ran, no one dared to look back, and no one dared to speak. Jimmy, Bosco, Carlos, Bobby and Davis ran as fast as their legs would take them, trudging through the thick mud and haze. Finding their way in the murky, mysterious field did not seem as hard as it had before, because now the fog was lifting.
This meant, they all assumed, they were close to the road. And more importantly, Davis' Cherokee.
And when it appeared before them, gleaming in the moon's reflection on the side of the road, they ran for their respective doors. Bosco was even daring enough to jump across the front hood and slide to the other side. Davis paused in amazement at his friend's new found ability, but quickly snapped back to reality when he noticed everyone was struggling to open their locked doors.
Davis rushed to open his, then unlocked the rest. The four others scrambled for seats, no one wanting to sit alone. And since Bosco had won the coveted front seat, Jimmy, Carlos and Bobby fought for the back. Jimmy refused to climb into the rear again, so he settled on sitting on the floor across his friend's feet.
A moment later, Davis had the truck started but he wasn't moving forward. He turned to the back seat and swallowed hard. "Um, never listen to me again," he said placatingly. "If I ever say something sounds like fun... Just shoot me. That's one house that didn't need to be figured out! "
"You figured it out?" asked Bobby, straining over Jimmy's head to lean over the front seat.
"Yeah!" cried Davis, his eyes wide, baffled that none of his friend's ineptitude.
"Wanna share it with...aaachhoooo! the rest of us?" asked Jimmy from his cramped, but safe, place on the floor.
"Sure," replied Davis, his eyes now fixed on the road ahead, hands gripped on the steering wheel. "That house is fucked up! Pure and simple. End of story."
"Sounds good to me," agreed Bobby.
"No argument here," conceded Carlos.
"Yeah...aaachhoooo!...Me either," added Jimmy.
But Bosco answered in a different fashion. He grabbed the driver roughly by the shoulder and pointed down the road. "Would you drive, Davis!...Just drive!"
*** *** ***
(So, do you think you have the house figured out? Cause I'm thinking there's a little more than Davis has insinuated. Read the epilogue to find out if you're right...please.)