Read Online In the Shadows of Children by Alan Ryker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alan Ryker
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he’d been living with?
“There’s something more to it, isn’t there? What is it? You can tell me. I can take it.”
“I just feel so stupid. And so selfish for putting this on you. There’s nothing to it.”
“Please. I want to know.”
Mrs. Jackman sighed, closed her eyes, composed herself. “You can’t imagine walking in on a scene like that. I’m old enough to have lost friends, but nothing like this. I’m not going to go into details. This was your mother. But it wasn’t just the injuries. It was her expression.”
The image of the police officer’s face as he realized who Aaron was struck him, and he felt sick. The pancakes stretched the thin sack of his stomach like a pile of double-ought buckshot.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have kept my darn mouth shut.” Mrs. Jackman’s face began to crumple. She looked sad, scared and furious at herself all at the same time.
“No, it’s not you,” Aaron said, reaching across the table and putting a hand on hers, trying to stop their worrying of a stack of napkins. “I talked to a police officer today, the one who responded to your call.”
“Teddy Cole.”
“Yeah. Cole. He said something similar to what you’re saying. He said she looked scared.”
Mrs. Jackman had been shaking her head in the negative since Aaron had forced the terrible conversation, but she shook it more vigorously. “Your mother was too young for this. She was too healthy. Of course she looked scared. Of course. She…”
Aaron knew how that sentence ended. Of course you die looking scared when you fall down a tall flight of stairs, breaking half the large bones in your body before landing in a crumpled heap on the floor, unable to move and with no one to help you. Alone. Abandoned.
“I’m going to tell you something, though, and you can’t tell my husband. He’ll think I’m losing it.”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Jackman looked Aaron in the face. “I’m old. I’ve gotten scared of the world. Hank is probably right and a couple of screws have probably come loose. But I brought it up, so I’m going to tell you. Maybe it’ll ease your mind.” After taking a deep breath, she said, “Late that night, I was out in the backyard looking up at your house, just thinking about your mom, just remembering, and I saw something.”
Chills ripped up Aaron’s spine. Mrs. Jackman had almost convinced him that whatever she was about to say was going to be the delusions of a mind in decline and strained by grief. But he knew now what she’d seen.
Still, he couldn’t just say it. He had to ask , had to let her put it in terms that made sense to her.
“What did you see?” he finally asked when it seemed she wouldn’t go on.
“It was a shape. Just a vague shape, dark and huge. Somebody had left the light on in the second-floor landing, and I saw it silhouetted in your bedroom doorway. My mind keeps telling me that I didn’t see it, that I was just upset, that it was a shadow, that it was something that makes sense.”
“What was it, though, really?”
Her eyes went unfocused as she peered back into that memory, as if through the same heavy fog that settled over Aaron’s memories of the last few nights whenever the sun rose. “I think it was Death, looking down the stairs, gloating over his work.”
* * *
Aaron sat in the living room and watched the world grow dark. He considered going upstairs—actually stood, walked to the staircase and put his foot on the first step several times—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. The closet in his old bedroom had two modes that he’d seen. The first was as a normal closet, containing the sort of things you’d expect to find. The second was as a sort of gateway into another universe, a junction where Bobby could make contact with him. Aaron was curious about what happened in the liminal zone between those two modes when Bobby appeared, but couldn’t quite bring himself to go watch. From childhood, he vaguely
“There’s something more to it, isn’t there? What is it? You can tell me. I can take it.”
“I just feel so stupid. And so selfish for putting this on you. There’s nothing to it.”
“Please. I want to know.”
Mrs. Jackman sighed, closed her eyes, composed herself. “You can’t imagine walking in on a scene like that. I’m old enough to have lost friends, but nothing like this. I’m not going to go into details. This was your mother. But it wasn’t just the injuries. It was her expression.”
The image of the police officer’s face as he realized who Aaron was struck him, and he felt sick. The pancakes stretched the thin sack of his stomach like a pile of double-ought buckshot.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have kept my darn mouth shut.” Mrs. Jackman’s face began to crumple. She looked sad, scared and furious at herself all at the same time.
“No, it’s not you,” Aaron said, reaching across the table and putting a hand on hers, trying to stop their worrying of a stack of napkins. “I talked to a police officer today, the one who responded to your call.”
“Teddy Cole.”
“Yeah. Cole. He said something similar to what you’re saying. He said she looked scared.”
Mrs. Jackman had been shaking her head in the negative since Aaron had forced the terrible conversation, but she shook it more vigorously. “Your mother was too young for this. She was too healthy. Of course she looked scared. Of course. She…”
Aaron knew how that sentence ended. Of course you die looking scared when you fall down a tall flight of stairs, breaking half the large bones in your body before landing in a crumpled heap on the floor, unable to move and with no one to help you. Alone. Abandoned.
“I’m going to tell you something, though, and you can’t tell my husband. He’ll think I’m losing it.”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Jackman looked Aaron in the face. “I’m old. I’ve gotten scared of the world. Hank is probably right and a couple of screws have probably come loose. But I brought it up, so I’m going to tell you. Maybe it’ll ease your mind.” After taking a deep breath, she said, “Late that night, I was out in the backyard looking up at your house, just thinking about your mom, just remembering, and I saw something.”
Chills ripped up Aaron’s spine. Mrs. Jackman had almost convinced him that whatever she was about to say was going to be the delusions of a mind in decline and strained by grief. But he knew now what she’d seen.
Still, he couldn’t just say it. He had to ask , had to let her put it in terms that made sense to her.
“What did you see?” he finally asked when it seemed she wouldn’t go on.
“It was a shape. Just a vague shape, dark and huge. Somebody had left the light on in the second-floor landing, and I saw it silhouetted in your bedroom doorway. My mind keeps telling me that I didn’t see it, that I was just upset, that it was a shadow, that it was something that makes sense.”
“What was it, though, really?”
Her eyes went unfocused as she peered back into that memory, as if through the same heavy fog that settled over Aaron’s memories of the last few nights whenever the sun rose. “I think it was Death, looking down the stairs, gloating over his work.”
* * *
Aaron sat in the living room and watched the world grow dark. He considered going upstairs—actually stood, walked to the staircase and put his foot on the first step several times—but he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. The closet in his old bedroom had two modes that he’d seen. The first was as a normal closet, containing the sort of things you’d expect to find. The second was as a sort of gateway into another universe, a junction where Bobby could make contact with him. Aaron was curious about what happened in the liminal zone between those two modes when Bobby appeared, but couldn’t quite bring himself to go watch. From childhood, he vaguely
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