Don't Open That Door - GoM 1

GiB - 7

The summer of 2008 found Fred and Susan in Seattle, only three hours away from Bold Peak, so Alex got her sister Rosalind's permission to take Claire along with her. The girl was only ten back then, and it'd be the first time she'd spend a whole week away from her mother. It'd be also Alex's first trip out of town with the Hilux she'd invested all her savings on, so it promised to be an adventure for them both.

When their week with Fred and Susan was over, the Corbans left Seattle on a bright afternoon. They were in no hurry, so they even stopped in Concrete to watch the sunset on Lake Shannon.

The night closed as they drove north down the road by Baker Lake, past Main Street and Vincent's campground, up to dirt road leading to the Corban farm. Claire played her favorite Lady Gaga songs over and over, singing along with Alex, as they joked about Granny Claire—Alex's mother—scolding them about being late for dinner. They hoped Rosalind would welcome her child back with one of her delicious puddings.

Alex knew something was off the moment she stopped the Hilux under the apple tree before the farm house. There were no lights on inside. Neither at Old Bootter's cabin across the large backyard. It was early for the whole family to be in bed, especially knowing the travellers were coming back home.

She told Claire to wait in the Hilux and got out alone to walk up the porch steps to the dark house alone. The front door wasn't locked, as usual. She pushed it open and the creak echoed in the empty living room. It was too quiet in there, and a rank smell hit her nose as she walked into the shadows filling her home.

Her belly squirmed when she headed down the hall, past the stairs and up to the kitchen. The gross smell grew stronger with every step. She wondered if there was some problem with the farm energy line. Maybe that had made her parents and sister leave to spend the night in town, at Betty's, and they'd left something in the fridge. But Old Bootter wouldn't have left his cabin. He didn't give a damn about having electric light. And still, why wouldn't they call her to let her know?

Alex's knees faltered when she reached the kitchen door. The constant buzz of flies added to the stench coming from the other end of the room. She spotted four sitting figures there, past the table. They were sitting side by side, all of them facing the door.

She would curse herself forever for trying the light switch.

The energy worked fine. In the bright light of the ceiling lamps, the figures across the room became four dead people. Not any people. Her mother, her father, Rosalind, Old Bootter. All four of them had wounds on their arms and necks, where chunks of flesh seemed to have been ripped off. Dry blood stripped down their bodies to small pools under their chairs.

Later on, she'd find the bloody footprints all over the house. And she'd find the message Old Bootter had left her with his last breath to let her know what had happened.

Too busy fighting back her screams, frozen in horror, a cold stone crushing her chest, she didn't hear Claire's light footsteps until the little girl was almost by her side.

"Al? Mom?" Claire called out, going to the only light on in the whole house.

Alex reacted enough to block Claire's way and keep her from coming into the kitchen. But Claire got a glimpse at the bodies, smelled the stench, heard the buzzing flies. Alex did the only thing she could do: she grabbed Claire's hand and dragged the little girl out of the house and back into the Hilux. She floored it and skidded away down the road, calling Graham while Claire cried out loud for her mother.

Ten years later, Alex found that the spring rains had messed up the dirt road, and Mayor Dickinson still hadn't bothered sending the dozer to fix it. He usually did by the end of summer, when all the dirt roads in use in town were in shape to endure the upcoming fall rains and the following ice and snow. Alex thought that was wise of Major Dick. The road led only to the Corban farm, which had been closed for the last ten years. Actually, there was no need to keep it open at all, because only Bass, Jack and their hunting buddies used it.

"Some tree could be as kind as to fall down across it and block it for good," she grumbled, keeping a firm grip on the wheel.

She hated coming to the farm. Especially at night. She wasn't scared, but it still reminded her too much of that last night she'd driven up that road to what had been the home where she'd been born.

The farm house was dark and quiet like back then as Alex stopped the Hilux under the apple tree. She got out without even glancing at it and headed to the solitary shed past her mother's abandoned vegetable garden, halfway between the house and Old Bootter's cabin. The shed door was closed with a chain and a big old iron padlock.

"You better work," she muttered.

She slid the key into the padlock as she whispered a word. The key turned and the padlock clicked open.