Lunch came and went. I still don’t have much of an appetite. Patty and Donna drove out into town to restock our supplies at the local grocery store. “Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner” blares from my right hip pocket.

I slide my cell out and swipe the screen. “Hello? Mom?”

Mom: “Sean? Why haven’t you called? We had a deal.”

“I know. I--”

Mom: “Your sister’s not getting any better.”

Jackie. Poor kid. “Listen. I’m sorry, mom. I just forgot.”

Emily giggles.

Mom: “Is anyone?”

“Yeah.” I glance around. “One is a hardliner, but not questioning anything.”

Mom: “Where’s everyone else? It sounds really quiet.”

I stride off into the front foyer for some privacy. How do moms know the precise way to publicly humiliate their sons when cute girls are nearby?

“Uh, they went into town to get more food and drinks.” How am I gonna wiggle out of this shit storm? “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

Mom: “Is Dr. Benson looking out for you? He’s supposed to be providing everything for you. All expenses --”

“God, ma.” I lower the cell into my bicep. “He is.”

Mom: “The money.”

A scoff. “Should be there.”

Mom: “Good. I’ll check on it later. Jackie really needs the procedure, Sean.”

“I know, mom!” Why else would I be out here? “Look. I’ve gotta go. The others will be back soon. Love ya.”

I hit the red icon and set the phone to vibrate. I know she means well, but damn. “One of these days, I’m gonna --”

A bizarre scent clouds my senses. I haven’t smelled it since we dissected frogs in middle school, but I’d recognize it anywhere: formaldehyde. The odor trails off in the direction of the office. A search for a logical source of the misplaced smell comes up empty.

I trail the stench down the hall to the ornate wooden doors to McAllister’s office. It’s fashioned from one solid piece. Oak maybe. Intricate curling forms cover its surface in spaced rectangles. In the center sits a perfect square; the head of some bizarre bearded figure serves as the focal point for the swirling engravings. My hand reaches for the tarnished brass doorknob. Cold and smooth. Something warm and fluid coats my palm and fingers.

“What the?”

Blood. Darker streams of it in some places. It also coats the knob and its housing. I wipe my hand on a pant leg and bring it back up for an injury inspection. Gone. The knob, me, clean. Just like that. I turn the knob and push the office door open.

A cloud of the chemical’s stench stifles my breathing. My lungs spaz out as my body attempts to right itself. Bright rays of sunlight filter in through the tall window in the room’s right-hand wall. An executive desk stands watch to my left in front of yet another fancy fireplace. How many does this place need? I walk to the window and let the sun warm my clammy skin. It hasn’t hit me how much I missed the stuff until now.

A tall ancient oak tree leans to one side in the front yard. Judging by its girth and deformed bark, I’d say it’s been around about as long as the house has. To the right of this and farther out, a long covered bridge spans the lulling creek. One way in, one way out.

Another whiff of the formaldehyde draws me away from my musings. Heavy sorrow and oppression clamp down. Soon, I can see my breaths in front of me. So cold. My teeth chatter.

“Wh-who’s there?”

The leather chair behind the desk creaks and groans.

“I kn-know you’re there.” My face is freezing.

Goosebumps shoot up all over me as I near the desk. The chair teeters back and forth in slow deliberate motions. I round the corner of the desk to get a better look.

Back and forth.

My right hand stretches out for the armrest closest to me. A fleeting dark form flutters past the window, startling me. I trip over my own big feet and land on my ass.

“Evelyn?”

Back on my feet in a flash. The odor pulls me toward the wall then dissolves without a trace.

“Come on.” My fist thumps against the wallpaper. “What the hell?”