The Lost Ones Ch.17

Chapter 17

A Knock In the Night, Part One.

“Damn thing,” Edgar snapped as knuckles screamed in pain. The poker he was using to jab at the embers of the fire dropped from his arthritic fingers, nading half in the fire. “Damn it!” He snarled, looking at the black metal pole lying against the grate.

If he didn’t get it out now, he would have to wait until the fire had cooled. The metal would be too hot to touch in a matter of minutes. Even thinking about it sent jots of pain through his hips. With a disgusted grunt, he turned away from the fire.

Let the damn thing lay there all winter for all he cared.

It took him a while to manage to get a pair of fresh logs on the fire, but the warmth blooming from the stone fireplace was worth it. The pain in his joints was pushed back just a little.

“Never meant to get so bloody old,” He muttered to himself as he shuffled across the floor, headed for his favorite chair. “Thought my Angie would be the one left behind. Not me. Was never meant to be me.”

He sighed contentedly as he finally managed to settle himself in the chair, pulling an old crochet blanket over his legs.

His milky eyes, cataracts growing year by year, strayed over the dimly lit room. Old furniture, a couch still covered in plastic despite it having seen better days, a lot of pictures he could barely see anymore, and old crockery.

A small T.V. that barely worked. A side table with one leg cracked.

Edgar’s life.

The cracked and faded phone on the side table next to his chair chirped, shaking him from his reverie. Grumbling, he picked it up, steeling himself for yet another company offering to sell him ‘simply the best funeral plan in the market.’

“Dad?” His son’s voice, crackly and distant. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

“I ain’t deaf yet, boy,” He said, offended. “What are you calling me for?”

An audible sigh over the line.

“Dad, I just called to check on you and say happy birthday,” He could hear the frustration in his son’s voice. “How are you doing?”

“What do you care?” Edgar knew it was unfair. His son was pretty good at calling and checking up on him. They even tried to get him to move in with them a few years back.

Edgar had no intention of leaving his cottage for anything other than a box.

“Having a bad day, Dad?” George was always irritatingly patient. “Well, I just want to say happy birthday. Jenny and I will bring the kids over as soon as the snow lifts and the roads open, okay?”

“Sure. Sure.” Edgar hesitated. “Thanks for calling.”

“No thanks necessary,” George said. “You know, if you are ever in the mood to chat, one of us is always around.” He could hear the hesitation in his son’s breathing.

Here it came.

“If you’re lonely, why not rethink coming to live with us just to be near the kids?”

“Bye, boy,” Edgar said flatly.

Another sigh. He should have beaten that out of the boy years ago… but to be honest, it wouldn’t have worked. George was George.

“Bye, Dad. Love you!” George hung up.

Fucking kid. Just once, Edgar wanted to see him lose his temper, snap, or… something. Even as a kid, on the one occasion Edgar had to tan the boy’s hide, the damn kid hadn’t made a sound. Unable to sit for an hour afterward, the kid simply smiled and got on with things.

Edgar had never touched the kid again. He remembered his Da wailing on him when he was young. He had shrieked, cried, and even hid.

Not George. He took his punishment and then got on with his day. The only thing was George had looked at Edgar when he was done disciplining the boy. There was a look in the kid’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, or hurt, or anything like that.

Edgar could have dealt with that.

It was sadness. Sadness and a calm adjustment of expectations. He had hit George, and George looked at him and knew it was him who did it. And he took a minute to process that information.

At that moment, Edgar knew one thing. His son would never see him the same way again. Edgar had never gotten over that look, not really.

The knock on the door came just after sunset. The wind was howling, the snow blowing up a storm. No one should be out in all this. Especially with the roads closed.

The knock came again as he shuffled anxiously to the door. He pressed his eye to the peephole to no avail. His vision was too bad to see more than a blur.

“Go away!” He yelled, trying his best to sound hale and hearty.

“Can you help me please?” A shaky voice called out. “I broke down, and I’m freezing out here!”

The voice was female and young. Edgar hesitated, his mind screaming at him to never open the door to someone he didn’t know. He wasn’t a forty-year-old farmhand anymore. At eighty-seven, he was old and, as much as he hated to admit it, frail.

“Please!” The young woman sounded desperate. “I think I might die out here!”

Edgar unlocked the door but left the three chains on.

“Step back from the door!” He yelled. “Any funny stuff, and I’ll shoot you where you stand!”

The scared little gasp warmed his bones. A little of the fear vanished. He carefully pulled open the door until the chains pulled tight. Peering out into the night, he flicked on the porch light.

“Hi! Please, help me!” She said.

Edgar looked the woman up and down. She looked strange as she stood in the dark night, snow swirling around her as the light from the porch illuminated a woman in high heels, a cocktail dress in black, and a shrug. Her blond hair was blowing around in the wind that was pushing bitterly cold air into the cottage through the open door.

“You a hooker?” Edgar asked. “I don’t want no hooker in my house!”

“NO!” She jerked as if he had slapped her. “I was at a party!”

Edgar wanted to just slam the door closed and get on with his night.

The thing was… he may be eighty-seven, but he wasn’t dead. A bit of company would be nice.

It was his birthday, after all.

“Hang on, let me get these chains off.” He grumbled, hands screaming in pain as he fumbled to get them clear of their tracks.

============

“I made you come cocoa,” Edgar said as he watched the blond warming herself by the fire. Her skin was still looking a bit blue, but it was starting to get some color back.

“Thank you so much!” She said, taking the mug from his gnarled hands. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she settled back in front of the fire, still shaking slightly from the storm. “I was starting to think I would never feel warm again.”

“Shouldn’t have left your damn car,” Edgar snapped. “Didn’t your father teach you any sense?”

“He did,” She winced, “But I panicked. I’m Olivia, by the way.” She smiled at him, reaching out one hand to shake.

“Ed.” He held her hand for a little longer than necessary. It was nice to feel a soft hand in his after all these years. “Edgar French.” He sat back in his chair, getting his own mug of cocoa and sipping it.

“Nice to meet you, Mister French, and thanks again for saving me from the storm,” She shivered at the memory. “Can you imagine being stuck out there?”

“Yes,” Edgar snapped, “That’s why you never go out dressed like… that. Not if you are a proper young lady anyway.”

“Like I said,” Olivia said defensively. “I was at a party. The dress was appropriate for the event.”

“Some kind of retro dance, was it?” Edgar asked. The style of dress was something he remembered from the fifties.

“No, I just like these clothes,” She smiled. “I can’t stand all the shoulder pads and big hair people wear these days.”

Ed just grunted, watching as she drank the cocoa, wondering if she noticed the hefty dose of whisky he had added to it. She sure didn’t seem to be affected by it so far.

He flinched as a sudden roar of wind from outside rattled the windows. The lights flickered and then went out, plunging the room into darkness as a whispering seemed to come from all around him.

“....alone….take….your fault…deserve…kill…”

“What was that?” Olivia asked, her mouth open in shock.

“Who was with you?” Edgar asked, his voice shaking in anger. “You playing silly buggers?”

“No!” Olivia looked shaken, “I was alone in the car!”

“I’ll make you regret playing with me if that’s what you’re doing, girlie!” Edgar knew the threat was not all that threatening as he had to struggle up out of his chair.

“I’m not!” She shrieked as he loomed over her.

Ed had a lot of experience with scaring people. It was how he had kept the other farmworkers in line and, if he was honest, how he convinced his wife to marry him. Looking down at Olivia, he saw the same fear in her that was tearing him apart from the inside.

“Well, someone sure is!” Edgar snapped and went to the hall closet, getting out his old shogun. “I’ll teach 'em a lesson about harassing an old man!”

“Wait!” Olivia called. “What if there are a lot of them out there?”

“Then I’ll be using some more cartridges!” Edgar said, feeling that old familiar rage coursing through his body for the first time in years. This time, he ignored the pain in his hands as he tore off the chains and pulled open the door.

Snow was flying past almost sideways now, with eddies causing shadows as a heavy fog of ice particles obscured everything a few feet from the door, white fading to grey before the dark swallowed it.

A hooded figure stood just on the edge of his sight, with other figures here and there around the edge of the small bit he could see in the gloom.

“You all can kindly get the fuck off my land! Right now!” Edgar roared at the still figures. None of them moved. “Last warning!” Ed felt a grin on his face. It had been a long time since he was in the thick of anything. Way too long.

“You’re all alone….”

Edgar didn’t bother to let the whispered voice finish. He racked a shell and fired into the shape only a few feet from his door. It didn’t move. He racked another shell and fired again.

“Take what I want… kill you!”

“Fuck off, the lot of ya!” Edgar kept firing until the hammer fell on an empty chamber. Not one of the figures had moved or even flinched. He was almost convinced he was seeing things, firing at shadows in the night, when the one in front raised a pale hand and… flipped him off.

Edgar stumbled back, slamming the door and locking it with trembling fingers. His hands shook as he tried to put the chains back on. He flinched as hands reached past him and did the chains for him.

“What’s out there?” Olivia asked, her eyes wide.

“How the fuck would I know?” Edgar said, pushing his way past Olivia. “I think it’s time you explain why you are here, girlie.” He turned and leveled the shotgun at her, praying she didn’t know it was empty.

================

Olivia sat on the couch and fidgeted as Edgar settled himself into his chair. Once he was comfortable, he waved with the shotgun for her to continue.

“I just went to a party at my Fiance’s work,” She said, her voice cracking. “We were going to be married next year, so I thought I would try and make a good impression.”

“Dressed like that?” Ed chuckled.

“Yes!” Olivia hissed. “I was very appropriately dressed! Anyway, I had a horrible time because my Fiance was all over this other woman.” She sniffed. “I was hurt, so I called him out on his behavior.”

Ed shook his head.

“So he told me to go home before I embarrassed myself more.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I was so angry I lost control of the car on an ice patch and crashed.” She shrugged. “The windscreen was broken, and the car was freezing, so I went to try and find help.”

“So what about them?” He pointed out the windows with his shotgun. “Tell me about them.”

“How should I know?” She asked, eyes wide. “I’m just a secretary! I don’t deal with strange people.” She leaned toward him, “Are they around here often?”

Edgar laughed. “God, you’re not very bright. No, girlie, mysterious bulletproof strangers don’t come around this area often!” He jabbed a finger at her. “They must want you, so as far as I am concerned, they can have you!”

“What?” She gasped. “You can’t be serious?”

“Sure am,” He laughed. “Up you get, and out you go.”

“You can’t do that!” Olivia protested. “They might do anything to me!”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure what they will do with you,” Edgar leered at her. “I would myself, but frankly, I’m too old for that anymore. More’s the pity.” He racked the pump action menacingly and shifted forward, pointing it directly at her. “Get out!”

Olivia laughed as she stood up.

“You really haven’t changed much,” She said, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Even in fifty years!” She reached out and took the shotgun from his arthritic hands with a smile. “And this is empty.” She threw it across the room.

“Who are you?” Edgar gasped.

“Just a bit of your history.” She shrugged. “Just a chicken coming home to roost.”