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-DurtyRiter
The Man with the Jeep
Chapter 61
It wasn't until they were halfway back to town that Andrew's doldrums faded enough to start getting excited about the prospect of the nursery again. Yeah, it would be a serious project before it would get going, but he wasn't afraid of that. He'd always had a strong work ethic that helped him excel in everything he did, and somehow manual labor felt more honest than what he did at work every day.
He had to be realistic that the income ceiling was probably a lot lower than staying in the industry he was already in, but it didn't matter to him as long as he had enough income to live on. In the long term, it was far more important to him that his job be rewarding than living in the lap of luxury.
There had been references to an imminent promotion for him lately, but with this nursery he would be at the apex from the very startÑ-for better or worse. A bit scary, but thrilling at the same time. That was when he knew he had already decided to move forward with it.
That was by far the scariest moment yet. And the most exhilarating.
"I'm going to do it," he announced to John.
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yes," Andrew replied unequivocally.
"Wow!"
"What, you think I'm making a mistake?"
"Not at all! I just thought it would take you a couple more weeks of checking all the angles and a few more panic attacks before you made up your mind," John said half-teasingly.
"Not too long ago, you would have been right, but I've recently been challenged to be more decisive, and I just came to the realization that I already know what I'll ultimately decide, so why wait?"
"Aw! My boy's all growed up!" John said, reaching over to ruffle Andrew's short hair.
"Stop that!" Andrew said sharply, swatting John's hand away even as he secretly reveled in the touch.
"My bad," John apologized. "I'm just proud of you for not thinking it to death."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure there will still be panic attacks before all is said and done."
"As long as I'm there to bring you back," John replied.
"I'm counting on it."
When they pulled up to Andrew's house, it was all Andrew could do not to invite John in, but he knew he would be late for work if they spent the night together and so didn't dare.
They kissed goodnight and John headed home after waiting to make sure Andrew had safely opened his front door.
Feeling a bit grungy after traipsing around the nursery and old abandoned house, Andrew opted for a quick shower before bed.
While he lathered himself up and shampooed his hair, he reflected on the enterprise. It was nice to look over the place--or places, ratherÑ-and finally have an idea of what the rent would look like. All in all, it was a better situation than he could have hoped for.
He rinsed off, dried off and went to bed where he promptly dozed off.
Though sleep came quickly, it wasn't restful. His brain was in overdrive again and he mentally groaned in frustration. He needed sleep! Why wouldn't his mind let go?
His fertile imagination blended impressions and facts and doubts together into a whirling blur of chaos.
The old house in the woods came alive with its black window eyes glaring at him and trying to swallow him up with the porch so the railing spindles could chew him up and swallow him down into its basement stomach where he could be dissolved in vats of acid spilling out of black plastic barrels of toxic waste.
What had he done to offend the old place? He only wanted to fix it and make it the happy place John remembered from his childhood. What was wrong with that?
The house was not impressed. John didn't know everything, the house insisted. He wasn't there. He didn't see what happened behind the walls. He was young and easily impressed.
Andrew refused to believe that. Mr. Bradshaw had seemed like a decent guy, if a little gruff. John couldn't be wrong about him!
Who said anything about Bradshaw, the house asked. Bradshaw made it out alive and was smart enough to take his children with him. He had his secrets, but I know more than he ever did. He couldn't know. Strangely, Andrew couldn't stop arguing with the house.
What's there to tell? A nice family built you, and even if they had secrets like every family, that doesn't mean I can't bring you back to your former glory.
Yes, those were glorious days, the house admitted, but they were a long time ago now. Time marches on and everything changes but birth, taxes, and death. I was left abandoned for more than a decade! Do you know what that's like? Unloved, abused, and left to my own defenses? Where's all that glory now, pretty boy?
I'm going to bring it back, Andrew insisted.
These walls can speak of what they've seen and yet you still refuse to listen, the house spat back with a sneer.
What? What are you trying to say to me?
Listen, you idiot! Just listen!
The house stopped talking and just stared at him pointedly with those devastatingly blank eyes.
Andrew strained his ears, but couldn't hear anything at all.
No, wait...
There was a sound after all. It was quiet. Not a voice. Not the rustling of an animal. Not a footstep. Not creaky stairs. Not even a whisper in the next room over.
It was... It was... It was so quiet. If everything else weren't dead silent he wouldn't have heard it at all. The hum was almost invisible. That's it, he noted with relief: it was a hum. But where was it coming from?
The angry house gave him no hints, so he reviewed his walk through earlier that day. Nothing in the living room. The piano was soundless. There was nothing in the office either. The weird antechamber had nothing but doors, and while a couple of them had creaky hinges, they didn't come even close to a hum. The dining room was mum as it reminisced of past feasts it had served.
The kitchen. It was in here. But the windows, while dirty, were sealed closed. No wind whistled through the walls. The hum haunted him. Like the Telltale Heart, it grew louder until it threatened to drown Andrew's reality in his failure to trace it. It was closer to the door.
You're getting warmer, the house declared, finally breaking its taciturnity. Can't you hear that? You can't have me if you don't get it.
The fridge! Andrew cried with relief at tracing the sound at long last. But so what? Refrigerators always hum!
Do they, the house challenged him.
Yes, that's how it cools. It takes electricity and extracts heat via the coils in the back. Everyone knows that.
He was still missing something.
A dark revelation consumed his thoughts slowly and surely until it shocked him so badly that he sat up with a start, instantly wide awake.
That refrigerator was running when they toured the house!
The next day, Andrew was an anxious wreck.
John finally replied to Andrew's panicked text messages when he woke up the next morning. He assured Andrew that stress from the big decision had made him imagine the running fridge and promised they would go back and check it out on their way back to the Jacks for the weekend.
Half-appeased, Andrew knew that would have to suffice since nothing else could be done before then. He tried to have a normal day, but it was like he was in a dark fog. He had trouble focusing and, counterpoint to yesterday, he had the roughest day at work in memory. He made mistakes and had to slow down even more to fix them and make sure all the forms were right before he submitted them. He could only hope those few he got finished wouldn't come back to haunt him later.
He had never been so happy for the end of his shift to finally arrive. While yesterday he bounded out at the stroke of five on a mission, today he clocked out at the stroke of five to escape.
He drove home slightly dazed and was honestly grateful he made it home safely when he finally pulled into the garage.
For the first time since their initial visit to the Jacks, Andrew wasn't ready and waiting when John arrived to pick him up.
John walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. When Andrew finally answered the door more than three minutes later, he looked a shadow of his former self with dark eyes and no verve whatsoever.
"Oh my God, Andrew!" John exclaimed in dismay. "What's wrong?"
"I told you," replied Andrew angrily. "The fridge."
"Oh, my love, I told you we'll take care of it."
"Yeah, but I can't get it out of my head. It's been killing me all day."
"I'm so sorry, Andrew," John said earnestly. "I had no idea it was affecting you so much."
He felt miserable. He should have realized Andrew wouldn't be able to let it drop so easily.
He pulled Andrew close into a long tight bear hug, but Andrew didn't respond more than automatically. Something was really wrong here.
"Tell me," he said gently.
Andrew couldn't look him in the eyes. Another bad sign.
"Please let me help," John pleaded. "Tell me."
"You'll just think I'm stupid, Andrew said woodenly.
"No, I won't," John promised. "You know I'll do anything to help."
"Can you fight off ghosts, John?"
"Ghosts?"
"Yes. The house is haunting me."
John had to struggle to not make light of that. He didn't believe in ghosts, but it was very clear that Andrew did.
"Tell me about it," John said again.
Andrew took a long time before he was willing to share.
"When I went to bed last night, I could barely sleep. That old house came alive and was trying to eat me. I got it to stop that, but then it was angry and bitter at being abandoned. It kept saying that we don't know what happens behind closed doors. It said we didn't even notice that the fridge was running. I've gone over it over and over all day and I'm absolutely certain the fridge was on when we were there. You remember that, right?"
"Honestly, all I remember was you got on me about wanting to open the door."
"I wish you had," Andrew said bitterly. "Because now you won't believe me."
"Who said I won't believe you?" John challenged. He was a bit miffed that Andrew would doubt him like that, but seriously ashamed to realize that he actually didn't.
"You're not the only one who pays attention to his boyfriend," Andrew bristled. "There's no way you'd give me any credence to this. You are the ultimate pragmatist. All facts and efficiency."
"Hey!" John protested.
"I'm sorry," Andrew backpedaled. "I'm really on edge."
"I see that," John replied gently. "Apology accepted. Now let Mr. Pragmatic help if I can."
Andrew nodded. He looked more alive than before, so that was something.
"First off, why don't we get you cleaned up a little bit and into something more comfortable?"
Andrew let him lead him up to his room.
"Still want to go out to the Jacks with me this weekend?"
"Yeah."
Andrew John packed a bag of clothes for him and when he handed him some casual clothes to put on, he didn't complain.
"Okay, Andrew. I need you to wash your face and change your clothes. Can you do that?"
Andrew nodded.
"Good. Try not to take too long, okay? The sooner you are ready to go, the sooner we will get this all cleared up."
Andrew nodded again, so John went down to the kitchen to get himself a drink. In the mood for a beer, he opened the refrigerator and was not at all surprised there was nothing remotely like beer to be found. He settled for a lemonade and closed the door before staring at the appliance thoughtfully.
Was the fridge in the old Bradshaw place really working? He really couldn't say. It seemed familiar and impossible at the same time. Oh well, he reasoned, wracking his brain wasn't going to change the facts. He would just have to be content to wait until they went back to see for themselves.
Not long later, Andrew came down looking noticeably better. Still not his usual polished self, but a considerable step in the right direction. And less vacant, which was worth millions to John.
He led the way back out to his car and made sure that Andrew locked his door behind him on the way out.
John left Andrew to himself on the drive out to make sure he didn't exacerbate his darkness, but John looked at him frequently to make sure he wasn't sinking further into the gloom as they drove.
John pulled right up to the gate as he had the night before and they trudged up to the house on foot. It was much earlier than yesterday, so John hoped the light would dispel some of Andrew's notions of haunting.
He unlocked the front door and they headed straight for the kitchen. The refrigerator was dead silent, but after a confirming nod from Andrew, they each took a breath to hold and John opened the door.
It was empty. No spoiled food, no old half-used containers, and no mold. In fact, it was spotless. Rather than looking long abandoned, it appeared to have been recently cleaned. Yes, it was too clean by far.
They exchanged looks.
"Okay, something's going on for sure," John said. "No abandoned fridge is cleaned like this."
"So you believe me now?" Andrew asked.
"I believed your impression from the start, just to be clear, but now I agree there's weirdness happening."
Andrew looked down before pointing at some scrapes in the dirty flooring where the appliance seemed to have been pulled out and then pushed back.
"It looks like a smoking gun to me," Andrew commented.
"I agree," said John. "But I think we can put the ghost to rest, yeah? Ghosts don't move heavy coolers around."
"Then what is it?"
"Maybe a squatter?" John offered.
Andrew shrugged. "I guess that would fit," he said finally.
"Just for grins and giggles, wanna check upstairs?"
"Sure," said Andrew with just enough hesitation that John knew it was not his first choice.
John boldly led the way up and went straight for the master bedroom, swinging both doors wide open in a sweeping motion.
He knew instantly Andrew was completely justified in his anxiety. The gigantic bed was still there just as massive and intimidating as he remembered, but the mattress was the only thing left on it. There were no clothes strewn around like yesterday and the makeshift kitchenette had disappeared as well. The dormer off to the right was likewise devoid of its homey reading nook.
He remembered all of it clearly from yesterday's visit, so there was no denying things had changed. But who did it and why just then?
Maybe the interloper was there while they were visiting and knew the gig was up. Had the vagabond snuck by them while they were exploring, or did they come upon the house to find them already there and just waited until they left to go in?
Another thought occurred to him then. What if they cornered the squatter and the only place to hide was under the big bed? What if they were silently present while he drilled Andrew?
It was one thing for Duncan to come across Andrew topping John on his Jeep in the middle of the woods of his own campground. John knew Duncan wouldn't dare tell a soul about that or share the pics he took without John's express permission first (which reminded him that he needed to get copies of all of those from Duncan soon).
To have a stranger anonymously present was a different matter entirely. That was not something he could account for. Anything could have happened. What if...?
Inadvertently, John's imagination made up another threesome scenario between Andrew and him with a masked man in black jumping out from under the bed.
He felt a firm tug in his boxers...
What do you think should happen next? I look forward to hearing from you!
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DurtyRiter@protonmail.com