Karen was sure she’d heard howling and hissing from the house across the street the night before but her father simply arched an eyebrow and told her that it was none of their business. That’s what he always said though, as if he had simply no interest in anything. When confronted with her frustrations, which was often, he’s simply sigh and repeat the same old line, “It’s not always so good to know, a lot of times, not knowing is better.’
Karen checked her messages and kept up to date on the school gossip that she missed out on in the summer. She wasn’t allowed to go out much, even though she was 17. She explained that it was simply that her father was a Jehovah’s Witness, but, the truth was, she was too, more or less, even though she didn’t like to admit it.
She didn’t think it’d be that way when her mother died. It was her mother, after all, who was the big religion freak. Karen loved those days, when her mom was alive, because her dad was sympathetic, someone she could talk to about her frustrations. He’d nod and hug her, run his hand through her hair and tell her they were on the same team, but, that it was a secret and not to tell her mom. If her mother knew, well, Karen knew that would be a mess. Her mother would go crazy. The faith was all that mattered to her, that and her family. Karen believed the faith part but wasn’t sure about the family part. She couldn’t remember ever going shopping with her mom.
Her bedroom window in the apartment gave Karen a great view of the house across the street. She didn’t know the lady’s name who lived there so she gave her a name, Plain Jane. So far as Karen could tell, it fit her. She was plain looking, a plain not-so-youngish face, a plain not-so-hot figure, perfectly ordinary plain breasts. PJ, as Karen shortened the name, tried to spruce it up. She tried to look hot but whatever she tried she always came out looking trashy.
Karen looked in the mirror and was always secretly excited by what she saw. She was, if she said so herself, rather hot. Boys wanted her. Men too. Even men at the Kingdom Hall. She wasn’t sure exactly how she knew this, it was something she just felt. Of course, most of the boys at school were dumb and obvious. She laughed at them, even when she occasionally wanted them too, when she felt herself stirring, all over. When her father was away she’d go through her closet to the very back, where she hid her secret outfits, revealing tops, short skirts, mini-dresses, stuff she’d managed to buy on trips with her aunt or friends and hide away from her dad.
The apartments, the Mediterranean Gardens, weren’t Mediterranean and had no Gardens. They were blokish, concrete looking apartments with chipping white stucco that was yellowed in places from kids peeing on the walls and tagged with graffiti in others. Karen was amazed that there were so many different shades of white, or, so it seemed. Every time some graffiti was painted over, the white that covered it seemed different from the white all around it. Nothing ever seemed to blend in.
Many apartments were smart apartments, wired, and hi-tech. Not the Gardens. The only thing they had going for them was a fountain in an otherwise weed-strewn courtyard and even then, the fountain only occasionally worked.
Summer vacation was long and boring. Karen had wanted a job but her father had said no. He wanted her to stay home and study. He’d arranged with teachers at school for summer homework for his daughter. The upcoming school year would be her senior year, college awaited and he’d be damned if his daughter spent the summer hashing fries instead of preparing for her future. There was only so much staying at home Karen could do though before she was overwhelmed with the urge to go out and explore the neighborhood. Not having a car, she took to long walks (“Exercise”, she explained to her dad) hoping to see something, anything, interesting.
There was an alley between Fountain Drive and Hurley Lane. It was where the druggies were supposed to hang out and even though it was expressly off-limits, Karen went down it time and again hoping to see something. Once in a while she found used needles, some old-fashioned condoms (cheaper than the more modern spray on kind), busted bottles of cheap synthetic booze. She never saw any druggies though, so she was forced to imagine them all, which she did as she lay on her bed, and stared up at her ceiling fan, letting the twirling blades hypnotize her and take her away.
Her walks always led her past the house across the street, 1204 Maynard Way. It had a fern in the front yard, white garaged doors with red trim that went with the red brick of the house. Wind chimes hung on the porch. Plain Jain’s Subaru was usually parked in the driveway. It was, all things considered, a rather un-extraordinary house.
The following night Karen was determined to stay up and see if she heard the sounds again. Her father had come home and the two had eaten dinner together, as they always did. Even though he worked all day as an installation tech for the cable company, Karen’s father insisted on coming home and cooking dinner which was fine with her because it was one of the things her dad did very well. Some nights he was talkative, other nights, not so much. This night was somewhere in the middle. He talked some, inquiring about Karen’s reading and studying. When dinner was over Karen retreated to her room while her father headed to the living room to watch TV.
From her window Karen texted friends back and caught up on dating drama. She had no dating drama of her own so she lived vicariously through her friends. There were boys at the Kingdom Hall her dad had singled out as potential dates but the last thing Karen wanted to do was date someone with her father’s approval. As much as she loved her dad and appreciated him being there for her, there was only so much of him she could take.
The street was quiet except for some kids trying to play kickball in the grass in front of the apartments. It was a Sunday night and these same kids were here every Sunday, their grandmother living in one of the downstairs units apparently. As usual they spent more time arguing than playing. Karen watched them through her open window and felt thankful she didn’t have any siblings.
Plain Jane’s house had some lights on but was quiet. There was just her Subaru parked in front. The sprinklers had been on earlier but had shut off. All was quiet.
Something fluttering around outside her window suddenly woke her and Karen sat straight up. A moth was twisting this way and that trying to avoid a bat that was locked in on it like some sort of missile. The moth had bounced off the window screen, seeking to use it as a trampoline, allowing it shoot past the bat’s head. Karen woke up just in time to see the bat execute a barrel roll, change direction and swoop up from below to snag the moth by bouncing it off its wing. As suddenly as it all happened, the bat was gone.
Bats, Karen thought to herself, would drive her father…well…bats! It was fear of vampires, as much as anything, that had crippled her social life. They’d come out of the dark, of course, after the Second World War. Everybody knew they existed but a lot of people just made pretend that they didn’t. Most mainstream news shows didn’t do stories on vampires or paranormal people, paras, as they were known. Those stories were still relegated to the afternoon talk shows and at-night sensationalist tabloids. Karen herself didn’t know any paras, or, any vampires for that matter, at least, not that she knew. With the Paranormal Registration Act, a few years back, a lot of paranormals kept to themselves, sought to keep their identities secret. Karen found herself looking at everyone, wondering if what she saw was the real them…wondering who they really were, on the inside.
She heard the rumble down the street and turned to look. A charcoal gray Hummer H5 rolled down her way, slowed and turned into Plain Jane’s driveway, right next to her Subaru. It was lifted and pimped out with custom exhaust and a lot of chrome. One of the biggest men Karen had ever seen slid out of the driver’s seat and headed to Plain Jane’s front door. He didn’t bother to knock or even ring the bell, he just went straight in.
Karen felt her heart race. It was already a warm night but she felt hotter all of a sudden. She knew, she just knew that something was going to happen. Maybe she’d hear the howling and hissing that had awakened her the night before. Her body was overwhelmed by nervous energy and the thought of sitting at the window sill waiting for something to happen was more than she could stand. She decided she could hear better if she went out and hid behind the trees, downstairs, in front of the apartment.
She slipped out of her room quietly in a t-shirt, shorts and her favorite Converse sneakers. She could hear the TV in the living room, still turned up. The clock on wall in the kitchen said it was almost 1:30 which meant that Karen’s father had fallen asleep watching TV again. He snored lightly on the couch. It happened from time to time, Karen knew. She also knew that her father was a deep sleeper and when he was out, he was out. She slipped passed the living room and made it to the door. She quietly unlocked and unlatched everything and headed downstairs.
Outside Karen could here the streetlight and the apartment’s security lights hum in contrast to each other, each on a different frequency. Crickets were about, chirping, wooing, angling for their nightly hook-ups. Karen walked carefully over to the elm just behind the “Welcome to Medite anean Gardens” sign, which had been missing its “r's” for a few years now. Across the street she heard yelling.
She couldn’t see any movement from inside though a light in front was on. Most of the yelling was a man’s voice, she could tell that much, but every know and then she heard a woman’s voice too, Plain Jane.
The street was quiet save from the hum of the swamp coolers and the various lights. Karen noticed her right leg shaking with nervous energy. She was sure something was going to happen and if she kept squatting behind a tree, she’d miss it. Her only chance was to run across to the house and see if she could peak in and see something.
In her mind, Karen could hear her dad yelling at her for even thinking of such a thing but she felt so overwhelmed with energy that she could hardly stand it. She looked up and down the street to make sure it was clear and took off running.
She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she came to a stop underneath the largest window in the front of the house. It was dark, drapes and curtains pulled tight. Karen could hear more yelling from within but she couldn’t make out any movement. Sitting crouched just underneath the window, she wasn’t able to make out much in terms of actual words, the sound of her heart competing with the yelling inside. She wondered if she’d be able to see anything from the back.
Karen slipped around the side of the house, sticking close to the wall. A short wooden gate led to the back, she didn’t see any “Beware of Dog” sign anywhere so she swallowed down her nerves and decided to go around back to see if she could see anything. The yelling was louder here, on the side of the house. In the backyard Karen could see the light shining in a room, she crept up to the window and looked through it. The red drapes were separated just enough, in the middle to where she could make out what was happening inside.
There was the man she’d seen pull up in the Hummer. His shirt was off, his dark hair slicked back into a ponytail. He had a short-trimmed beard. When he turned around he had a large dark cat tattoo which seemed to take up his entire back. Plain Jane was there too, giving as good as she got in the yelling department. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back as well, dressed only in a black tank top and short red shorts. She looked small in comparison to him but the size difference didn’t stop her from getting in his face and screaming at him.
When Plain Jane screamed, he seemed calm, assured. He didn’t flinch. He waited for her to yell herself out. As she wound herself down, she turned as if to leave, the man reached out a powerful hand, caught her by the arm and threw her back, behind him, onto the bed. He turned to face her and let out a long, low snarl.
Karen felt her blood freeze. It was just like the sound she’d hear last night, the sound that had woken her up. Plain Jane lay on the bed, on her back, fingers digging into the mattress. She snarled back and started shaking her head.
Karen heard a voice inside her, way down, deep inside that told her to run. Her shaky right leg was frozen know, along with the rest of her. She couldn’t not watch if she tried. As Plain Jane shook her head, her whole body began to shake, taking the bed along with it. Her skin seemed to bubble, as if boiling underneath. The tank top ripped down the back and along with it, Plain Jane’s skin, a mound of black fur rising up from underneath it.
It all happened at once and yet, for Karen, it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. First Plain Jane….then….the man, both changing, transforming, right there in the bedroom, right before her eyes. First one, then the other, shed their skin as easily as a person might take their clothes off. The man quit standing and fell to all fours. His face now the face of the cat that had been on his back. His snarl was louder now, and he showed his fangs. Plain Jane swished a long tail in agitation on the bed, peered back her ears and snarled back. It was clear who was who from the difference in size. Without realizing she meant to, Karen heard herself scream. The man-cat quickly swung his head in her direction.
Karen started to stumble backwards but her feet felt as if they had weights on them. Her legs wouldn’t bend. She simply fell, straight as stick, heavy as a stone, landing on her back. She tried to breathe but it seemed the more she tried the less breath she could get. She turned to her side and tried to get back up to her feet. She heard the glass shatter about the same time as she felt the shower of glass hit her, just before the man-cat landed on top of her, knocking her to the ground.
Looking into the cat’s eyes, in the brief second before it sank its teeth into her neck and ended her life, forever, all she could think about was her father.
“It’s not always so good to know, a lot of times, not knowing is better."
Copyright 2011, M.R. Caffery. All rights reserved.
Copyright 2011, M.R. Caffery. All rights reserved.
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