The Wells of Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

people at
all.’
    I turned off right on to Route 109.
The road was dark and strewn with dead leaves, and already coated with a white
frosting of sugary-looking ice.
    ‘I just wish they’d answered the
phone,’ I said. ‘Then I would have been sure they were still okay. I mean, they
should have answered the phone.’
    It took five or ten minutes of
driving through the dark and the cold to reach the Bodine house. I blew my horn
a couple of times as we turned up the driveway, but the old, square house
seemed to be deserted. There were no lights at any of the windows, only an
outside light on the verandah, and none of the living-room drapes had been
drawn. I pulled the station wagon to a halt, and we climbed out. Shelley
gratefully returned to his front seat, revelling in the warmth left by Dan’s
backside.
    ‘Jimmy!’ I called. ‘Alison!’
    There was no reply. The house and
its grounds were silent, except for the occasional scuttling of dry leaves. I
walked around the side to the back yard, but that, too, was deserted. Jimmy’s
rake rested where he had left it that afternoon, against the brown-painted
weatherboarding. The screen door creaked and banged, creaked and banged.
    ‘They could have gone out for the
evening,’ suggested Dan. ‘Maybe they’re staying overnight some place.’
    ‘They didn’t mention it to me.’
    ‘People don’t have to ask your
permission to go out for the evening, you know. You’re only the plumber.’
    I wasn’t in the mood for humour.
There was something unnaturally creepy about finding the Bodine house empty.
The windows were as dark as old men’s eyes, and the wind hummed in the
telephone wires. Behind me, Dan coughed and shuffled his feet in the leaves.
    I went up the back steps to the
kitchen door. I held back the screen and tried the main door handle, and to my
surprise I found that was unlocked, too. I opened up a little way, and called:
    ‘Jimmy? Alison?’
into the chilly gloom of the kitchen.
    Dan said: ‘You’re wasting your time,
Mason. They’re just not here. Maybe they went over to the darks’ place at
Washington.’
    I strained my eyes to see through
the shadows. I could see the edge of the kitchen table, and the corner of the
pine hutch, but it didn’t look like there was anybody there. I called: ‘Jimmy?’
louder, but still there was no reply.
    ‘It’s unlike Jimmy to leave the
place unlocked,’ I remarked.
    Dan shrugged. ‘Maybe he forgot.
Maybe he thought he’d locked up and he hadn’t.’
    ‘I don’t know,’ I said slowly. ‘That
doesn’t seem like Jimmy at all.’
    I opened the kitchen door wider and
stepped inside. The kitchen was very dark, and odd shadows clung in every
corner. I heard something squeak and I froze for a moment, wondering if it was
one of those hideous scaley mice, but then it squeaked again and I realized it
was only a floorboard. One of the faucets in the kitchen sink was dripping
steadily, making a flat plip-plapping noise. I went on tippy-toes across the
room, bumping into the corner of the table as I passed, and turned the faucet
off. There’s one sound a plumber can’t stand to hear, and that’s the sound of
dripping.
    I paused for a moment, listening and
looking. Dan came in through the kitchen door, banging the screen behind him,
and I said: ‘Ssshh.’
    ‘What is it?’ he whispered,
hoarsely.
    ‘I’m not sure. Do you hear
anything?’
    3°
    ‘I don’t think so. Why don’t you
turn on the light? Do you enjoy being scared?’
    I turned and frowned at him. ‘Who’s
scared?’
    We waited in silence for almost a
whole minute, and if you’ve ever waited in silence for a whole minute, then
you’ll know how long that is. I was sure, somewhere in the house, I could still
hear dripping.
    I said to Dan: ‘Do you hear water?’
    ‘Water?’ he queried. ‘What do you
mean, water?’
    ‘Listen.’
    We strained our ears again, and this
time we both heard it clearly. It was the steady, distinctive sound of