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FICTION
NIGHT CRIES
by Sandy Tritt
Jessica stood at the bottom of the
stairs and listened. Nothing. Just her imagination. She pulled
her sweater around her and made another tour of the century-old
house. Each door was latched securely. Everything was fine.
She looked at the clock. 11:40. The Rouschs promised they'd
be home shortly after midnight. Jessica wouldn't mind if they
were early. She hated this job. Hated it. But the Rouschs paid
premium rates and not everyone trusted a thirteen-year-old with
an infant.
If only old Mrs. Lattimer next door hadn't told her about
the Peterson baby. "I wouldn't stay in that house,"
Mrs. Lattimer hissed, her breath smelling of stale gin and her
teeth the color of algae. "They murdered that baby."
She pointed her arthritic finger at Jessica. "Murdered him,
I tell you. Right at midnight." She settled back on her
haunches, nodding her head as she spoke. "It was summer,
hot and muggy, so of course all the windows were open. I heard
that baby cry and looked out my window and I saw them. Plain
as day. Right there." She pointed her crooked finger at
the front bedroom. "They suffocated that poor little fellow,
they did. Held a pillow over his face until he stopped crying.
They did. Right at the stroke of midnight."
Jessica shivered and looked at the clock again. 11:48.
A shrill cry pierced the stillness, sending chills of terror
down her arms. It's only Zachary, she told herself. But
four times in the last hour she had heard crying, only to find
Zachary sleeping soundly. She stood at the bottom of the stairs,
struggling to hear over the blood pulsating in her ears.
Another cry, louder than the first, continued for a long time,
the tone changing to a high-pitched moan that reverberated through
her nervous system.
Jessica resisted the temptation to race out the door and down
the street to her own safe home. She was responsible for Zachary
and it was her job to see to him now. She flattened herself against
the wall and edged up the dark stairs, then inched her way through
the massive hallway.
Zachary's nursery was the last room at the end of the hall.
Her knees grew heavy and she struggled against gravity to move
her legs past the front bedroom. Icy tremors ran through her
every time she passed that door. She knew the Rouschs didn't
use it--their bedroom was the large one on the right. Earlier
in the summer, she'd tried to open the door, but it was locked.
Not only that, but cold air blew through the keyhole. In the
summer.
With one more shiver, Jessica forced her leaden legs to move
on. The nearer the nursery, the lighter her walk became. She
slipped silently into Zachary's room, the clown light throwing
eerie shadows against the walls. But Zachary slept, his knees
tucked under him, his thumb resting in his mouth.
She relaxed. The baby was fine.
And then the cry, softer than before, yet closer, too. The
pitch wobbled, then heightened, growing louder, shriller, more
urgent.
Jessica's right hand held her heart in place while she gasped
for air. Before her mind began working, her legs took her from
the room, down the hall, and deposited her outside the locked
bedroom.
The crying stopped.
Trembling, her hand touched the knob. She didn't mean to turn
it, but it swung open with great force. Cold air rushed from
the room, taking her breath away. Gray sheers, illuminated by
the street light, flapped in the open window.
And then the clock chimed. Twelve long, slow, resonant times,
each sound raising her gooseflesh, each pause straightening her
hairs.
She swallowed hard to keep her heart from crawling up her
throat.
A cat, a long, thin, black cat, jumped on the windowsill.
It hunched, its back a perfect arc, its scraggly hairs on end.
It looked at Jessica with hungry yellow eyes.
She stared back, paralyzed.
The cat's head straightened, forming a silhouette. Its mouth
opened, stretched wide, and a forlorn cry filled the room.
Jessica's heart pounded back to life. She breathed heavily.
Her body shook. A cat. All that noise from a cat. All that moaning
from a cat. All that--
"Jessica?"
The Rouschs were home!
Jessica stepped out of the doorway and closed the door as
quietly as she could.
"Jessica?" They were closer now, at the bottom of
the stairs.
Jessica straightened her ponytail and forced her shoulders
back. She met the Rouschs at the top step.
"Is everything okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Jessica said. "Just checking on
Zac."
"Remember we need you tomorrow night."
For a moment, Jessica was sure Mrs. Rousch's overbite had
lengthened into vampire teeth. She blinked twice. "Sure,"
she answered. "See you then." She stepped back and
made a broad circle around Mrs. Rousch, then bolted down the
stairs.
"Jessica!" Mrs. Rousch called after her. "I
haven't paid you."
Jessica didn't care. She ran out the front door and down the
street, not stopping until she was safe in her own home, her
own room.
And then she saw the shadows on the ceiling. They moved
. . .
* * *
(c)copyright 2002, Sandy Tritt. All rights reserved.
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