Arlene and Everett

Arlene looked over at her glass, annoyed that it was empty. It still glistened on the sides from the gin. It was 11 am, and she was already done with her second round. By Arlene’s standards she was a little behind today. But it was a weekday, so she had an excuse. The real drinking took place on the weekends.

I was just a kid, barely ten years old. My Dad was friends with Everett, Arlene’s husband. Dad and I would sometimes ride up together to visit. The trip from our home in RI to Danville VT was about four hours. Dad always rode straight through. You learned quickly not to have anything to drink before you left. I never thought Dad would be all that thrilled with me attempting to pee into a cup as we drove up interstate 91.

She headed towards her bathroom. Arlene had been married to Everett for over 50 years, and by this point in their marriage they barely tolerated each other. She lived on the first floor of their house, while Everett mostly stayed in the basement. Neither of them could recall the last time they shared an intimate moment together.

She had barely walked in when her face dropped as she looked at the toilet seat…it was in the “up” position. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She had nagged him about this off and on for years, and for a while she had given up, but this time she lost her patience.

“Damn you old man! Why don’t you use your own damn bathroom!”

She knew he was down there, and that he heard her. I was in the living room just down the hall from her. That’s where I usually slept, rolled up in my sleeping bag. There were rooms upstairs but they scared me. I knew Everett and Arlene’s kids had grown up there, a normal New England family. But everything was so sterile up there now, their kids long gone.

I put my ear to the carpet, an old oriental, probably ordered at the Sears outlet in St. Jay. I heard Everett mumble a reply, but I couldn’t make out what he said. But Arlene heard every word because she had immediately made her way to the top of the cellar stairs. She always did this after she yelled something at Everett because she knew he always mumbled a reply.

“I heard that! I’ll shut up just as soon as you learn to put the damn toilet seat back down! And for God’s sake wipe up after yourself. The way you aim you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!”

Arlene finished in the bathroom, and on her way out she refilled her glass. It was a simple glass. It held about eight ounces or so of the gin she loved. It had straight sides, and it was small, like one of those cheap glasses they have at cut-rate hotels that they use for orange juice. You know, you see “Fresh squeezed orange juice” on the menu for $2.50. And you think to yourself, “Wow…$2.50 a GLASS! Should be big at least.” And then when you get it there’s barely two gulps.

For Arlene’s purposes, it was perfect, especially since she went through a lot of them. You see, when you wake up after a ten or twelve glass day, and you reach for your glasses, you often knock over your gin glass, shattering it on the floor.

Every time that happened, Everett would laugh. He had a very distinct laugh, and it was usually followed by a brief coughing fit. You see, Everett also liked his booze, and when he laughed too hard he inevitably coughed. I always heard this clearly, no matter where I was in the house.

“Heh, heh, heh, he…*cough* *cough*”

Sometimes he’d hack a little after he coughed. When he did that he’d clear his throat loudly, and then he’d pick up the brass cup next to his bed and spit into it. I never knew how often he emptied that cup, but I suspected it wasn’t often enough. One thing’s for sure…Arlene never emptied it!

Everett spent most of his days shuffling around the basement, tending to the pot-bellied wood stove, and his two beagles, Leroy and Taft. Leroy and Taft were coon hunting dogs, or so Everett claimed. All I know is they howled at everything, whether it looked like a coon or not.

As much as the two of them bickered with each other, I could tell that there was love between them years before. But time, and alcohol masked most of that now. Oh, they had their moments, especially when I was around. I knew they were putting on a show for me, but once in a while I saw the remnants of the spark they once shared.

Those moments rarely lasted long. Inevitably there would be something that would set them off. This morning it was the toilet seat being left in the up position.

Thing was, it was my fault this time. I got out of my sleeping bag, and started to head towards the kitchen to explain, but it was already too late. Arlene was standing at the top of the stairs, yelling down to Everett. Meanwhile Everett was moving to the corner of the cellar that was the farthest point away from the stairs.

When Arlene saw me she immediately smiled.

“Why hello, punkin! And how are we today?”

Arlene always had on this perpetual lipstick sheen. It was as if she put it on in her sleep because no matter how tanked she got, she’d always wake with a shiny set of smackers. The rest of her was a mess, but those lips of hers were as close to perfect as could be.

This was only equaled by her smile, which was honestly genuine. I never really figured out how she could go from screaming at Everett one second, and flashing me her lipsticky smile the next. Strangely enough, her smile made me feel better, no matter how many expletives she was hurling downstairs.

I endured the inevitable kiss as I casually snuck past her and descended the stairs. I liked Arlene, but upstairs was much too antiseptic for me. The basement was where it was at. It’s where the men hung out.

I heard Everett mumble “Thank God” when he saw my feet, and not Arlene’s. Then he smiled at me as he shuffled his way over to the woodstove. Everett had injured his ankle years before, and it never seemed to heal. I saw it once. It looked like he had been shot because there seemed to be a small hole, mostly black, and the surrounding skin was shades or purple and red.

Still, he managed to get around just fine. He grabbed a long log, and then lifted the lid of the old pot-bellied stove. The log looked way too long to fit. I was always amazed that no matter what, every log seemed to fit in. Sometimes he’d have to wiggle it around a bit, but it always went it. I never saw him fail.

“Well, well…bout time you woke up, sleepy head. Ah’s about to send Leroy up to get you.”

Now, Everett didn’t speak nearly as clear as that. Half the time I never understood a word he said. He always hummed before he spoke…a low, grumbling sound. You never knew when the humming ended and the words began.

The stove, and most of the cellar, was to the left of the stairs. To the right was Everett’s bed. I didn’t go there much. I didn’t like the brass cup. I wandered past the drying rack first. On it was the inside-out skins of about fifteen musk rats. They gave off a funky smell, but you got used to it. My Dad told me that Everett collected money from the state for catching the musk rats.

Everett must have thought I was upset by the yelling earlier. He tussled my hair as I neared the stove, smiling at me. Everett was a smart-ass…a hard-nosed woodsman who was raised more by the back of his father’s hand than anything else.

And yet he was harmless. He gleefully toyed with me, doing his best to shape my pending manhood. But he did it in a way that was totally opposite the harsh reality he faced as a child. Basically, he would torment me, but in a nice way.

He motioned me over by his side. The stove felt good. The basement always had a comfortable feel to it, partly owing to the fact that it was a walk-out. The glass sliders opened up onto the side yard where the dogs were. Sunlight always filtered in, casting a warm glow.

The other side was dark, with no windows at all. That’s where he slept. I had been to that side only twice, each time to fetch something for him. Once it was his watch, sitting on his nightstand. That wasn’t too bad, except that I accidentally kicked his brass cup. It didn’t fall over though, not that I would have touched it anyway.

The second time scared me to death. See, the nightstand is on the side of the bed that is closest to the bottom of the stairs. It’s only about five feet or so away, and it’s partially bathed in light from the outside. When I got his watch that time, I paused for a moment to look on the other side of the bed. It was nothing but darkness. I knew there had to be something there…more of the cellar at least…but I couldn’t see a thing.

I always wondered why there wasn’t a light on that side. Regardless, I vowed never to go investigate. With all those skins from dead animals laying around, my imagination didn’t need much of a push to start picturing bad things lurking there.

The day after I got the watch, Everett sent me back for one of his skinning knives. He said it was on the shelf…on the other side of the bed. If I suspected that he was testing me somehow the day before, then this time it was confirmed.

My Dad was there, but he didn’t say a word. He just looked at me and nodded in the direction of the darkness. Everett pushed something into my hand. It was a small flashlight.

“Mmmmhere…take this…you’ll be needin’ some light there. Mmmmbeen meanin’ to fix that thing one of these days…”

I looked down and saw that he had handed me a tiny, old Ray-O-Vac light. It must have used AA batteries. I turned it on, careful not to look right into it. That’s when I realized I had little to fear from retina damage…I could barely even tell the light was on. “Is this a joke, or what?” I thought to myself.

I looked back one last time. Both Everett and my Dad were ignoring me, acting as if it was no big deal. I was about to be eaten bay about twenty body-less, bloody muskrat skins! I happen to think this is a BIG deal thankyuouverymuch!

I turned back and began to head to the corner, passing underneath the stairs. I paused for a moment there, hearing a creaking above me. That’s when I realized Arlene must have been standing at the top of the stairs the entire time, listening. That seemed strange to me, but I let it go.

I pointed the flashlight towards the darkness in front of me, and slowly I began to see shapes, but just barely. I saw what appeared to be a small workbench, or a bureau. It was hard to tell. But it was biog whatever it was. I walked closer.

I could see an assortment of things on the bench top, but I couldn’t tell what any of them were. They seemed to be shapeless. There were no sharp edges on any of the objects. I passed my feeble light over them, and caught my breath. They were all covered with what looked to be years…centuries…worth of dust.

The dust had settled so heavily that it looked like a small blanket draped over everything.

“mmmmMind the mess now.” Everett’s voice startled me. It was muffled. He seemed to be calling to me from the outside of a massive cave.

I pointed the flashlight to the area above the bench. Now I knew what it was. It was one of those old Sears peg-boards, like my Dad had in his work area in the cellar back home. It was basically pressed cardboard…very hard…with hundreds of little holes in it. They came with about forty metal hooks that you would stick in the holes. Then you could hang things on the hooks, like hammers and screwdrivers.

The board went as high as the ceiling. And it was full of stuff…all covered in an equal amount of dust. Except for one thing…a knife, about eight inches long. It was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust. The blade gleamed. It didn’t occur to me until later that with so little light, there’s no way it could have shone like that.

The knife was high up, especially for a little kid. I tried to reach for it without touching the bench top. My fingers fell about six inches too short. There was no way I was going to reach it without disturbing the dust.

I resigned myself to getting dirty, and placed my left hand on the edge of the bench. It was soft, almost cushiony. With the added leverage, I reached up with my other hand for the knife. Just as my right hand grabbed the knife handle, I felt a warm sensation on my left hand.

With the knife in hand, I eased back, and looked down. My left hand was covered in dust. I didn’t think I had disturbed it that much. That’s when I realized that the dust was moving…slowly crawling up my hand.

For some reason I didn’t panic. I stared at it in morbid fascination. It seemed to react to me, as if it was testing me. I pulled my hand back slightly, and it retreated down to about the halfway point of my fingers. Then I slowly turned my hand over, and it moved with me, like a strange log-roller maintaining his balance.

“mmmmDon’t take all day now. mmmmGot’s plenty to do this mornin’”

The sound of Everett’s voice seemed to wake me out of a trance. I backed up, and slowly pulled my hand away. The dust retracted as well, clinging for one last moment to the tip of my middle finger. It settled back on the bench, appearing as if it had never been touched.

I turned around, and Everett was right there. I knew I had just heard his voice from the other side of the cellar. He was in his seventies at least, with a bad leg. His heel scraped the floor whenever he walked. There was no way he could have covered that distance that fast, and that silently.

I nearly dropped the knife, but Everett had already reached for it, smiling at me. I wasn’t afraid. I just didn’t understand how he had appeared so suddenly.

“mmmmWhy thank you.” He said as he took the knife. “mmmmTurns out I needed something else over here ah forgot. mmmmFigured I’d come get it myself ‘stead a makin’ you do it. mmmmBut long as yer here, you can come take a look.”

With that he went to my left, and reached his hand out. Up to that point I hadn’t figured out that there was more cellar to go. Geometrically-speaking, it made sense. There *had* to be more cellar there. But as before, it was too dark to see.

But Everett knew what was there, and his hand found it right away, even in the dark. I heard the sound of a latch, and then a door opened. I could tell because there was a faint light coming from the other side. I could see that now, which made me wonder why I couldn’t see it before.

I heard a creaking sound above me again. Everett paused, and looked up. Then, with that smile still on his face, he put one finger to his lips as if to do the “hush” sound. But he didn’t utter a word. Then he stepped inside the door, motioning for me to follow.

I hesitated at first, poking my head around to take a look. Something was wrong. The room was larger than it should be, given the size of the remaining part of the cellar. I leaned back to look at the space outside this new room, and then looked inside again. Something was definitely not right. This room was about five feet longer and wider than was possible.

By now Everett had walked all the way in. I followed him, more curious now than anything else. As I stepped inside, there seemed to be a soft glow of light that emanated from everywhere, and yet nowhere in particular.

The room must have had walls, but you couldn’t see them. They were covered from floor to ceiling with what appeared to be old style index card storage units made of some type of dark wood. It reminded me of the old card catalogs they had in libraries.

Each little unit had a small brass handle on the front. It was a pull-style handle. You slip your finger under it sideways and pull. I tried to count, but it was impossible…there were hundreds, maybe thousands, of these little drawers. And they were all perfectly identical.

Everett motioned me over to where he was standing. He pointed to one of the drawers.

“mmmmGo ahead…pull ‘er open.”

I slid my finger under the pull and tugged. It pulled open effortlessly. More of that strange light came from somewhere inside the drawer. When I looked in, my eyes widened. Even as a kid I knew the value of money, and I was looking at a pile of silver dollars. There must have been two hundred of them in there, perhaps more!

Everett reached one of his hands inside. His hand was ravaged by arthritis, and yet he was able to pick up one coin between his fingers just as easily as a man a quarter of his age. He held the coin in his palm for a moment to show me. He flipped it over so I could see both sides.

“mmmmThese are special coins. I’ve had them so long they feel as if a part of me. mmmmHere…hold out yer hand.”

I put out my hand, and opened my fingers. Everett put one of his hands under mine, supporting it. With his other hand he held the coin horizontally between his thumb and forefinger. He looked at me, then gently placed the coin on my palm.

I immediately felt a buzzing sensation, almost like a low, electric pulse. It seemed to course through my body, running up my arm. I began to get a little dizzy. I looked down and the coin seemed to be moving…no, melting. It was disappearing into my hand!

The sensation I felt was powerful, like I was being invigorated with a new strength. I could feel it all through my veins, extending to my other hand, my legs, my feet, even my eyes. I felt as if I could shoot a beam of energy through them if I tried hard enough.

I gazed at my hand again, and the coin was completely gone. I was floating now, not really seeing anything. I wanted to fly, to span the universe, and I believed I could do just that!

Suddenly it ended. The sensation abruptly stopped. I looked down and the coin was still gone, only now I could see it was back in Everett’s hand. I must have imagined it all. I stared at the coin in his palm for a moment, and I saw it begin to melt again, briefly, before it returned to its original shape.

Everett smiled at me, then he put the coin back, and closed the drawer. “But wait!”, I thought. “Don’t put it back! Didn’t you feel the power? Think of what I could do with that. No more worrying about being bullied at school. And think of how good I’d be at sports!”

I had to have that coin. I yanked the drawer open. It was empty. I couldn’t believe it. I must have picked the wrong one. I pulled another one open, but it was empty too. I went to try another, and Everett’s hand closed over mine.

I looked up, and he wasn’t smiling any more.

“mmmmThese are special coins, y’know. mmmmNot for everyone, ‘specially anyone who’s a bit greedy, or who wants them for their own benefit. There here for when needed, and you’ll know when that time is. mmmmRight now’s not the time, ‘specially for little boys lookin’ to do nuthin’ more than cheat life.”

“But…” I started to protest. Then I felt something down at my feet. It was the eyeless skin of a muskrat, slithering across my sneakers. I looked up at Everett, and his face was gone. In its place was another eyeless muskrat skin. Where Everett’s mouth had been was now the toothless grin of a bloodied muskrat mouth. And it began to speak.

“mmmmDon’t ever try and use the coins for yourself, young Derek. That is not their purpose.”

I tried to scream, but all the air had left my lungs. All I could do was sit there and stare, my mouth hanging open. I felt something at my feet and instinctively looked down. It was Leroy, brushing up against my leg. There was no sign of the muskrat. I looked back at Everett, and he was back again, looking just as he did moments before, smiling.

I turned to leave, but Everett’s hand landed on my shoulder, turning me back. He looked down at the drawer, and motioned to it. I slowly reached out, and pulled on the handle. The coin was there. I couldn’t believe it. Everett smiled and closed the drawer, and then led me out, shutting the door behind us.

I was back under the stairs now. I looked back and watched as Everett closed the door and latched it. All light again vanished, leaving nothing in that corner but complete darkness. Then I saw Everett head to the bench, reach up, and return the knife to its hook. As soon as he did, the dust enveloped it, blending it in with all the other things hanging there. Then he reached down to pick up the flashlight. I didn’t even realize I had left it there, nor did I notice that I didn’t need it anymore.

I turned and walked into the main area of the cellar. My Dad was waiting there, sitting in the rocking chair next to the wood stove, a small smile on his face. It was a knowing smile, and I knew then that he too had experienced that little room.

I felt a little dizzy, and tired. I sat down on the couch, trying to stay awake. The warmth of the stove didn’t help. The last words I remember were those of Arlene, yelling down the stairs, once again asking what was going on down there.

I never mentioned that experience on the entire ride back, and eventually I just let it go. The next time I went along with Dad up north was that following summer. Everett never said a word about it. He acted like it had never happened.

Arlene knew. She didn’t know what she knew, but she had an idea. I could imagine her upstairs at times, kneeling on the wood floor, one of her drinking glasses upside down on the boards, and her ear pressed to the bottom of it trying desperately to hear what was happening below her. I wouldn’t learn until many years later just how much she knew.

Everett passed away on March 29th, about seven years since I held that coin. Dad was sick, so I made the trip alone. It was a small ceremony. The church was the same one he and Arlene had gone to together for over 50 years. A classic New England design, set right on the west edge of the small town common. Even given the circumstances, it was beautiful.

I walked up the wooden steps. As old and worn as they were, they still felt solid under my feet, even as they softly creaked. There was always something about the enduring strength of wood that amazed me.

The outer doors were open. As I looked in I saw sunlight filtering in the stained glass windows, casting a 45-degree ray across the pews. Dust mingled softly in the light, seeming to float in from nowhere.

The service was understated, but very nice. Most of these people had known Everett since they were kids. They toiled in the same fields, hunted the same woods, and drank the same booze. When the pastor opened the pulpit to anyone wishing to offer a remembrance, Eddy McKnight stood immediately and made his way along the pews to the front.

Eddy was just a few years younger than Everett. He wore coveralls, work boots, and a camo ball cap. They were clean, but as with most folks it was obvious that he was a working-class man. Knowing him, he had a load of logs to get shipped out before the day was done.

When he got to the pulpit, he looked out over the church, and without hesitation began sharing a story.

“I once bought an old roto tiller from Ev. I remember it clearly. It was beat up enough for sure, but knowing how Ev was with small motors, I knew it’d be in good condition. Paid him $125 bucks for it.”

“Well, eventually my son took over the gardening, and being young, well, he didn’t want nuthin’ to do with any old contraption. So he bought himself a new model.”

“Seeing Ev’s old one sittin’ there in the barn not doing nothin’ didn’t make much sense to me, so I cleaned it up a bit, and sold it to Henry Ames. Henry bought it from me for $75. I figured after having used it for a few years that it had lost about $50 bucks in value, so I was feelin’ pretty good about the whole thing.”

“Some years after that, well, you all know Henry hurt his leg. His family tried to take care of the tillin’, but that old machine was pretty much used up. Plus it had no electric start, so getting’ her goin’ could be a bear.”

“Two years ago I happened to be near Ev’s place, so I swung by to say hello. I found him out back, tillin’ up his garden. And do you know what that old coot was using? Damned if it wasn’t his old tiller. I didn’t recognize it at first because the old pull-start cable was gone, replaced by a customized electric starter.”

“Ev saw me, stopped the motor, and with a grin the size of a damn barn he walked up to me, wiping his hands with that red paisley bandana he always had. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment forever.”

“I just had to ask, even though I knew in my heart I’d regret it. . I said, ’Lo Ev. Isn’t that your old tiller?”

Everett’s smile grew, if that was possible.

He said, “Ayuh, that’s her. I got her back coupla years ago from Henry.”

“Everett paused, just waiting for me to take the bait. Wasn’t nuthin’ I could do at that point, so I asked the inevitable.”

“How much you pay for it?”

“Everett kept on smilin’, like he was gonna burst.”

“Pay? Didn’t pay a thing for it. Henry figured it was all used up anyway, so I was just playing junk man far as he was concerned.”

“Where’d you get the starter?”

“Oh that”, he said. “My son-in-law slapped that on for me. Free. Said he had it layin’ around anyway.”

“I shook my head. This was so typical for Ev. Turns out he had a spare tiller, even older than the one he was using then. So I figure he made $175 bucks to loan that damn thing out.”

“Thing is, I know that had that engine ever given out, that he’d a stopped by in a heartbeat to fix it for me, or for Henry. And it wouldn’t of cost us a red cent, ‘cept maybe a cup of coffee, or a beer. That’s the kind of man he was, and the kind of person this world needs.”

I found myself suddenly going from laughter to fighting off the tears. I wasn’t surprised that Eddy was followed by a steady stream of folks, all of whom offered similar anecdotes.

I looked for Arlene, but she was busy with people I recognized as occasional visitors to their house. Everett wouldn’t actually be buried until later that spring due to the frozen ground. As I reached my car, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. It was Arlene.

“Derek, oh, I’m so glad you could make it. I know Ev would have appreciated that.”

Her smile seemed wrong, almost forced. Then again she had just lost her husband. It was hard for me to imagine what she must have been feeling. Sadness? Relief? I hugged her, unsure of exactly what to do, or even feel at that moment.

“I’m sorry, Arlene. I’m going to miss him for sure.”

I hesitated. “What in the world do I say?” I thought to myself. I stammered.

“Listen, uh, if there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, OK?”

Arlene didn’t hesitate for a second.

“As a matter of fact, there is something you can do for me. You see, I’m afraid that this funeral is going to be expensive, and, well, Ev left me with some bills I hate to say. I need money to be honest.”

Arlene’s eyes sparkled as she smiled a plastic smile through lipstick-covered lips.

“Arlene, sure, I mean, I can’t afford much, but I’ll be glad to help you out with whatever I can.”

She shook her head and laughed a little. Just then a couple who attended the service walked up to us. Arlene jumped a little, her smile quickly replaced as she turned away to face them. They hugged, and chatted for a bit. I expected her to ask for money from them as well, but she never mentioned it.

She watched them as they walked away, her eyes scanning the lot. She turned back to me.

“Derek, do you remember when you were a little boy, and Ev showed you his special place in the corner of the cellar?”

She pressed her lips together tightly, as if she was tense. The expression on her face seemed to be rapidly shifting between a series of emotions as she struggled to remain indifferent. I was caught completely off-guard.

“Uh, yeah, I mean I think I remember. That was a long time ago.” I said.

It really wasn’t that long ago, and of course I remember that day in full detail. The memory has never faded.

“Derek, there’s something about that room. Something…special. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

I nodded slowly. I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I didn’t like it. Arlene seemed to know a lot about the existence of the room, but if so, why was she asking me these questions. She continued.

“Take me to that room, Derek. Help me. I’m afraid if I don’t pay these bills that they will take my house.” She paused, searching my eyes, obviously hoping I would say yes. “Please.” She was almost begging.

I looked down at my shoes. I heard Everett’s words in my head. Although my instinct told me otherwise, I figured as long as I wasn’t doing this for myself that it would be OK.

“Derek, please, for me.”

“OK”, I said. “OK. I’ll stay after the rest of Everett’s friends and family leaves. And I’ll show you.”

I pulled up at the house about an hour later. A little late by post-funeral service standards, and there were only a few cars still there by then. I walked by the dog cages.

Leroy and Taft were gone, which seemed odd. But I figured a neighbor or friend may have taken them for a while to relieve Arlene of the burden of dog care for a while. I didn’t notice the blood stains weaving a subtle trail into the woods. It wouldn’t be discovered until later that Arlene had shot and killed both of them. They were Everett’s dogs, after all, so it kind of made sense.

I saw something move on the backside of the garden, on the edge of the woods. It was small, whatever it was, but big enough to make a ruckus. The tall grass moved and parted as whatever it was made its way along the yard. Then it stopped. A small head popped up at the top edge of the grass. A muskrat. “Strange”, I thought. The nearest water is about a mile away.

“Derek!” Arlene opened the cellar door. I guess everyone has gathered down there, perhaps in tribute to Everett. She held it open as I approached her. Then I remembered the muskrat. I stopped and looked back, but it was gone. The grass didn’t move. I turned back to the door, enduring a lipstick-kiss on my cheek as I walked in.

There was plenty of food leftover. It looked like a church bazaar. Brownies, cookies, pastries. And pies. Pie after pie after pie, most untouched. But I wasn’t really hungry.

I looked across the cellar, past the overhang of the stairs. All I could see was darkness, just as usual. Arlene seemed to be shuffling her remaining guests towards the door.

One of them was a man named Buck. I recall him from the Elk lodge. He was one of the officers. He was looking at me with a somber face. I recognized that look as the same one my father gave me seven years ago. Only now it seemed too serious. He seemed concerned.

Arlene practically pushed them out the door, spewing excuse after pathetic excuse. When the last person left she closed the door, pressed her back against it, and stared out the glass over her shoulder. Cars started, and then slowly pulled away.

She went upstairs, and I heard her footsteps softly walking across the living room. I guessed she was peering out the curtains to be sure they had left. Satisfied, she walked back towards the kitchen. I heard her open a cabinet, and then I saw her feet appear on the stairs.

She held a flashlight in her hand. When she got to the landing she immediately turned and walked to the back of the staircase. She motioned for me to come over.

“You’re still going to help me, right?”

I wasn’t feeling very good about this, but I nodded anyway. Arlene smiled. It was a strange smile, and it made me shiver. She turned the light on, and ducked her head a bit as she began to walk under the stairway.

The light was pointed right where the room was. Or where the room was supposed to be, because it wasn’t there. All that was there was bare concrete. There had been a ton of cobwebs, but most of these had been recently pushed aside.

Obviously Arlene hadn’t wasted any time doing her own searching. But where was the room? Where was the door, and the bureau with the tool rack? None of it was there. It didn’t make any sense.

Suddenly we heard a scratching at the door. Arlene turned towards the noise, a look of disgust on her face. She mumbled something that sounded like ‘damn dog’, and headed towards the door.

She swung it open, and immediately swung her foot out on a kicking fashion. She hit whatever was there, but her anger turned to horror as she screamed.

I ran over to help. Arlene was backing away, almost stumbling. I stepped around her and ran outside. There was nothing there. I looked up at the driveway, towards the garden. Nothing. I listened for a moment, and thought I heard something in the woods. Satisfied, I went back inside, and closed the door.

Arlene was on the couch, breathing hard.

“What was it?” I asked.

She was breathing too hard to answer right away. When she finally did, I could barely make out what she was saying.

“Mu…mus…mus…muskrat.”

“A muskrat?” I said. Then I laughed. “Oh, wait a minute. I saw one too just as I came in. A little odd to see one up here away from the water for sure.”

Arlene didn’t calm down. She kept on stammering.

“I…I…dreams…they…I dream of them…each night…they…they have no eyes…”

I tried to reassure her. “Arlene, listen, he’s probably just lost, or worse case he has rabies. If it’s still there later I’ll borrom one of Everett’s guns and kill it.”

She was still trembling. “…it…had…no…eyes…”

I felt my mouth go dry when she said it. I still had nightmares of the eyeless muskrats, even after seven years. But it couldn’t be.

Arlene got up and went over to the food table. There were several bottles of liquor there, including her favorite. She grabbed her usual type of glass, and filled it almost to the rim. She downed most of it in one gulp. At least it seemed to help.

Seeming to shrug it off, she again looked towards the corner. It was dark now, as it usually was. She handed me the flashlight.

“Here” she said. “You go look.”

I stared at the light, but I knew I didn’t need it. Arlene looked puzzled. I smiled at her, and made my way under the stairs. I paused to let my eyes adjust. The bureau appeared first, slowly. The tool rack appeared as well, completely covered in the carpet of dust. The dust itself was moving, very slightly, almost as if breathing.

I couldn’t see the knife as I had before. I turned my head to the right a little. At first it was nothing but darkness, but then, slowly, the outline of a door appeared. A red glow emanated between the door jamb.

I could here Arlene moving behind me, but her sounds were muted, as if she was far away. She was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out. I turned to look, and I could see her looking in, the flashlight in her hands.

But she wasn’t looking at me. And she was waving the light around wildly, even thou I was right there. I glanced down at my body, but the light never touched me, even when she pointed it right at me. I felt like Dorothy from the “Wizard of Oz”, looking into the crystal ball at Anty Em. I could see her, but she could not see me.

I reached out to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in. She screamed a little at first, but her fear turned to silent shock. With me, she could now see.

I could tell by the look on her face that she was in disbelief. She turned to look back at where she was, and she could see the rest of the cellar, just as it was when she was standing there a second ago. “I knew it” was all she said as she turned back towards me.

The outline of the door was fully visible now, as was the handle. I paused as I looked at Arlene.

“Listen Arlene, maybe this isn’t such a…”

I was about to say it wasn’t a good idea, but Arlene had already reached for the door, swung it open, and stepped inside. As I followed her in, I thought I heard a noise behind me. I looked over my shoulder, and saw some movement by the door. It was brief, and I wasn’t sure what it was, but I could tell it was small, about the size of a cat.

The sound of Arlene opening drawers forced me to turn back. Whatever was in the cellar would have to wait. I stepped into the room.

She had already managed to open about twenty drawers. Each one was empty, and the more she encountered empty drawers, the faster she opened new ones. Some were falling to the floor as she yanked them open.

I reached my hands in front of her and grabbed her wrists. She fought me at first, until she finally caught my eye. Slowly she relaxed, and then she began to sob. I realized her desperation then. I was still too young and naive to understand the pressure of growing old on a fixed income, but I was beginning to learn.

She put her head against me as she cried. I didn’t have anything to wipe her tears, so most were absorbed by my shirt. I stifled a laugh as I imagined the impression of a pair of lips from her lipstick smeared onto my shirt.

When she was calm, she pulled away, staring at the drawers. After a moment, I reached out to one of the closed ones, put my finger on the latch, and pulled. It was filled with coins.

Arlene couldn’t believe her eyes. Curious as to how I could be so lucky to find a filled drawer, I reached for another one. It too was filled, and so was the third one, and the fourth.

Just as I was about to open a fifth drawer, she reached for one of the open ones. I saw this and for some reason I pushed it closed. Then I closed the others, but as I was doing so, Arlene managed to open the first drawer I had touched.

It was empty. She opened the next one. It too was empty, and so was the third one, and the last two. All empty. I was as shocked as she was. I slowly pressed all five drawers closed again, then I carefully reached out and opened the first one.

It was heavy, as any drawers filed with gold coins ought to be.

Looking back, I knew at that moment that we should have left. Everett’s voice kept going off in my head, but I ignored it. All I wanted to do was help this woman. I didn’t care about any head games that were happening. If the coins only appeared for me, then so be it.

Arlene slowly reached in, her fingers trembling, a smile widening on her face. She began to talk softly.

“Oh, old man, I knew you were holding out on me. I just knew it. Now we’ll see about doing some changes around here. Some new clothes for me, new furniture, a new car to replace that heap you made me drive. Damn you, old man! Damn you!”

She laughed as she said this, her fingers barely inside the drawer. It was then that I saw the muskrat. Where it’s eyes should have been was nothing more than a dull, white glow. But it had teeth. I could clearly see them because the soft skin that formed the outline of its mouth had long rotted back. The teeth were skeletal, as if they had been bleached white. It was headed for Arlene.

“Arlene, no!” Too late. She had picked up one of the coins, and was holding it in her palm. For a moment she was lost in her new-found power. Her smile widened. I could tell she was sensing what I had years before. Not only did she have all this money, but now she had power as well. I could tell her mind was racing with possibilities.

Suddenly she looked down, and saw the muskrat. It had slithered itself between her feet, its tail wrapped around her ankle. It looked up at her, its non-eyes glowing, unseeing, and yet staring right at her. She was about to scream when her eyes shifted back to the coin in her hand. It was…changing.

As I watched, the coin appeared to melt. But instead of searing heat and the smell of burning flesh, it instead was melting into her hand, dissolving into her flesh.

Arlene was terrified to the point of being unable to scream. I reached for the coin, but it was mostly liquid now, at least what was left of it. I could see a slight bulge in her forearm now. Something was making its way along her veins, moving up her arm, like a small animal crawling along under a bed sheet.

The coin was completely gone now. Her palm didn’t have a scratch. The thing was in her body now, and most of it had advanced through her arm.

I could tell it was working its way through her body, but she didn’t seem to be in pain. She seemed to be almost calm now, staring at something, her eyes unfocused.

I had forgotten about the muskrat, until I saw its nose emerging above her shoulder. It had climbed up her back! Arlene’s body began to tremble now, shaking as she stood there. Her skin began to lose color, fading to a grayish opaqueness, slimy in appearance.

Her bones began to show through her skin. Her body was fading as I stood there. There was no way she could be standing there with her body in that condition. Something was holding her up. That’s when I felt something on my foot.

The floor was crawling with eyeless muskrats, each with those glowing eye sockets. And the backside of Arlene’s rapidly deteriorating body was covered in them as well. She resembled a mannequin being controlled by a coat of muskrats.

I turned and headed for the door just as Arlene’s body collapsed to the floor. The last thing I saw was the muskrats, covering her body, and the entire floor. As I stared in horror, Arlene disappeared. The muskrats too began to fade, slowly melting down into a thick carpet that looked like dust. I looked over at the tool rack, and the dust blanket was shifting rapidly now. Occasionally I could make out the impression of a muskrat head poking out, staring at me.

When the phone rang, the man on the other end of the line identified himself as police chief Connors, from Danville. I hesitated.

“Yes, chief, this is Derek Cousins. What can I do for you.”

“Mr. Cousins, when was the last time you saw Arlene.?”

My skin crawled as I thought of that day. It was barely a week ago. When I saw the heads poking out from the tool rack I turned and ran, never looking back. I drove non-stop until I was home, and I spent the next several days in a single-malt oblivion.

“It was the day of the ceremony, at her house. Why?”

“Well” he said, “it appears that she’s missing. No one’s seen her for almost a week now. We’re beginning to think something’s foul here. We believe you were the last one to have seen her.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Sweat had formed on my forehead. I tried to answer him, but before I could he spoke up.”

“S’ok, son, you don’t have to answer. We’re pretty sure what happened to her. I’m just going through the motions here so I can fill out my paperwork, hopefully keep those county dogs off my ass, if you know what I mean.”

“You…you know what happened to her?” I asked.

“Pretty sure, but we’ll verify it as best we can. That’s all I need from you for now. Oh, and, just for the record, stick around where we can find you for the next few days, OK?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, no problem, I didn’t have any plans anyway.” I said.

“Good. Well that pretty much wraps it up.” he said.

“OK chief, well, you have a good day then.”

“Yeah, you too” he said. Then he paused. “Oh, and one more thing. You didn’t take anything from the house, did you? There’s a rumor going around that Everett had a substantial coin collection. I’d hate for that to fall into the wrong hands, know what I mean?”

I was nodding, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “No, chief. I didn’t take a thing. I kind of left in a hurry actually, a little anxious to get home.”

“Good, good. Well then, you take care Mr. Cousins.”

He hung up. I went to put the phone down, but instead I dropped it, causing the handset to hit the floor. The case cracked open, and the battery went flying across the floor. Cassie, my cat, who had just been slithering between my legs a moment ago, also went flying, startled by the phone as it crashed on the tile.

Her claws tried desperately to gain traction as she ran. Thankful that the slithering turned out to be her and not an eyeless muskrat, I started to laugh.