The Wheel: Part 12

Scratching

Previous installment:

Start at the beginning: The Wheel: Part 1, Jack Colby

Where we left off: Jack realized his nightmare was very similar to what he envisioned on the wheel before the accident happened. This set Jack on edge as he anxiously wondered if his visions on the wheel were something more: premonitions. Jack and Justin took a walk in the woods, and while Justin played on a rock formation, Jack spies what he thought was a large, bare footprint in the mud, leading towards the same rock formation. Remembering the Bigfoot poster in the grocery store the day before, Jack frantically yelled for Justin to get away from the rocks. On the way back to the cabin, a disappointed Justin mentioned there was a cave in the formation.

Voiceover narration: Andrew Thomas

Art: Jenelle Thomas https://alovelygiraffe.com

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Scratching

Slouched in an Adirondack, Jack drew lines in the perspiration on his glass of Coke. Justin had found a spot nearby where the lake had a somewhat sandy bottom and had been playing in the water for quite some time. Despite these idyllic conditions, Jack was in a sour mood, and no matter how he tried, his thoughts kept pulling back to the footprint and the rock formation in the woods behind them.

With a cave underneath.

He turned to stare at it, distant and obscured by trees, until his neck hurt.

“Dad, what are you looking at?” Justin asked from the water.

Jack quickly turned away. “Um, I don’t know. Nothing.” He noticed Justin’s swim shorts were untied and well on their way to falling off. “Why don’t you tie your shorts, bud?”

Justin ignored this. “Do you want to go back to the rocks yet?”

Jack shook his head, silently, and turned back to it briefly, oblivious to Justin’s display of disappointment.

Then an idea struck him. Jack stood up and went to the water’s edge and walked ten or twelve feet to the right, taking care to plant his feet at different distances from the water until the sand turned to more of a muck and then eventually grass. He bent over and looked at the various footprints he had just left. None of them much looked like what he had seen by the creek, but that was a creek, and this was a beach.

Not feeling any better, Jack returned to his Adirondack. He took another drink of his Coke and found himself staring into what remained of the melting ice and bubble formations as if they would divine to him his morbid future.

It was just one, and I didn’t even look that close at it. It could have been anything.

Jack shook out of his trance as a cold drop of condensation fell from his cup onto his bare thigh. He blinked at it, gulped down the rest, and leaned forward in his chair. It really was a scorcher of a day. The sun was mostly blocked by the trees, but he was still sweating almost as much as his now-empty drink.

As he got up to get another and turned towards the cabin, Justin called out excitedly. “Are you going to the cave?”

Jack stopped, letting his shoulders slump. “No bud,” he said without turning. “Just getting some water.”

“Should I get out?” Justin asked.

He turned. “Nah, just stay in the shallows. I’ll be right back.”

Ice water in hand, Jack stood inside the door of the cabin, staring off into the woods. He really wanted to get a better look at this supposed footprint, but knew he couldn’t do so without getting Justin fired up about the rock formation again. It would have to wait until his son was asleep that evening. He figured an extra s’more would cause enough of a sugar crash to knock the kid out fast, and then he could go have a look-see. For now, he resolved to see if he could figure out the source of last night’s mysterious scratching.

Attentive as always, Justin was watching for him to walk out of the cabin and waved from the lake when he did. He waved back and stopped to watch as Justin returned to whatever it was he was doing. Once he was certain that Justin was fully engrossed again, he took the opportunity to circle around to the back of the cabin.

He was disappointed by what he found. The ground was hard-packed dirt, so there was nothing to see there. Below and to the right of Justin’s window, there was a small sapling up against the house. This could have accounted for the scratching in a strong wind, but he was pretty sure it didn’t get that breezy in a forest like this, and it certainly wasn’t gusty last night. He inspected the entire rear of the cabin and found no physical indication of scratching. Stymied, he returned to his chair by the lake.

“Dad, what were you doing behind the cabin?”

“Oh, I…uh, just needed to pee.” This seemed to satisfy, and Justin returned to the half-mud, half-sand formation he was building. He had found a decent-sized rock and was working on standing it in the perfect spot. “That looks pretty cool, what is it?”

“It’s kind of a castle, like the rocks over there.”

Jack sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you pee in the bathroom?”

Jack said it was more fun outside, was it not? Justin said it was, and they laughed.

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Jack opened his eyes groggily to find the room completely dark, other than the soft glow coming in from the slightly ajar door. He had fallen asleep with Justin, who was also finally asleep. His watch said it was just after eleven, meaning he had been out for the better part of an hour. Swearing under his breath, he slowly pried himself out of bed, careful not to wake Justin.

The mixed drinks he’d had around the fire sure hadn’t helped to keep Jack’s night on track, and his lack of self-regulation spilled over to Justin. He had cut the s’mores off at two total, but let the kid have another two marshmallows on top of that before realizing just how much sugar that really was. While Justin’s energy level kept increasing, Jack’s blinks became longer and more labored. When he insisted on bedtime, Justin asked for snuggles. He knew it was a bad idea at the time, and clearly, he had been right.

Once on his feet, he swayed slightly and remembered just how buzzed he was. The bedroom door creaked as he opened it, making him wince. As he snuck out, he caught the doorframe with his right shoulder and swore again as Justin moved and started muttering. Thankfully, it was all incoherent gibberish. Justin rolled over and continued sleeping.

Warm amber light spilled from the stove hood in the kitchenette and washed the cabin in sepia tones and shadow. Jack eyed the bourbon bottle and, against his better judgment, poured himself a half-finger. He leaned back against the counter, took a sip, and looked out at the fire pit where coals were still glowing. It was a warm, humid night, teasing the rain that was supposed to come in the next few days. Jack knew better than to trust a rain forecast in Michigan, but since tonight could be his last chance to enjoy the fire alone after dark, he decided to do just that. His fact-finding mission could wait until another night—he was in no state to go for a dark woodland adventure anyway. Halfway to the cabin door, his eyes grew wide, and he stopped in his tracks.

The scratching was back.

Skin crawling, he crept towards the bedrooms. Once more, the sound was clearly coming from Justin’s. He held his ear against the door briefly and considered going into the room, but didn’t want to risk waking Justin. Instead, he took a sip of bourbon, grabbed a flashlight from the small hallway closet, and talked himself into what he was about to do.

The hinges of the screen door creaked, and the spring that held it closed bleated like a dying goat as it stretched further and further—it couldn’t be avoided. Jack held his breath—as if one less small sound disturbing the dark night would make any difference—and eased the door shut so it wouldn’t smack against the frame. Once this unexpectedly difficult process was complete, he stood on the front porch, in the dark, trying to calm his nerves. He stepped off the small porch and turned the flashlight on. The sudden brilliance nearly blinded him as the LED light ricocheted off the ground, lighting up the whole area around him.

Fucking idiot.

Certainly, a screaming door and bright-ass flashlight would drive away anything that might be out here in an instant. He quickly shut the light off, feeling stupid about the whole thing, and waited for his night vision to return. When he could see well enough again, he began creeping to his right along the house. Each footfall was carefully placed in an effort to be as silent as possible. When he reached the corner of the house, he leaned against it and breathed softly. He was both relieved and frustrated to find that he could hear nothing out of the ordinary. Inwardly cursing the ancient screen door and his own idiocy, he looked back toward the smoldering coals.

That’s when the scratching started up again.

Jack whirled around, eager to place this noise in front of him and not behind. The sound continued, and now that he was faced with it, he didn’t know if he had the guts to look. What would he do if something were there? If it were a small animal, it would likely get out of dodge pretty quickly, but he suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. A bear might also flee, but if he saw anything of that size around the corner, he would likely do the same himself.

If it’s something bigger…like a…

No, he couldn’t bring himself to admit what he suspected down deep. It was too crazy.

Jack decided he couldn’t put it off any longer. Breathing deeply, he braced himself, quickly poked his head around the corner of the house, and turned on the flashlight in one fluid motion.

He stood there wide-eyed, breath caught in his chest, baffled by what he saw. The scratching continued, but there was absolutely nothing there. He pivoted and scanned the surrounding area with his flashlight, particularly in the direction of the rock formation. Uncertain, he walked along the house looking for anything that could be causing the sound. The ground seemed somewhat disturbed, but could that be from his own original investigation earlier in the day? Although unsatisfied, he decided there was nothing to see. He looked around the next corner, knowing he wouldn’t find anything, and, as expected, there was nothing.

Through all of this, the disembodied scratching continued, and it nagged at him. Each stroke filled his head with more lunatic thoughts. He couldn’t take it anymore, standing out in the open listening to this taunting specter, so he ran around the corner, onto the porch, and through the bedraggled front door, letting it slam behind him. He shuffled quickly to Justin’s door and again placed his ear against it.

The scratching was still there, and he didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse. He could swear the sound was different than the last time he stood here; quieter but also not as muffled. Not wanting to put it off any longer, he turned on the hallway light and slowly cracked Justin’s door. Light spilled across his son’s back. He was on his side and facing the wall. Filled with fear and confusion, Jack crept towards the bed, his shadow towering over his prone son.

As he drew close, the situation became clear. Justin was in somewhat of a fetal position on the edge of his mattress that was bordered by a wall covered in 1970s wainscoting. In slow rhythmic movements, Justin scratched the wall in front of his face, over and over. Relieved but still unsettled, he reached over to pull Justin’s hand away from the wall and found his son’s eyes wide and bug-eyed, staring at the indeterminate space in front of them. Jack stumbled and almost fell on the bed.

“Justin, are you ok?” He gasped.

But Justin kept on scratching and staring. He was asleep.

Heart thumping, Jack reached out and pulled the scratching hand away from the wall, but still, it clawed at the air. As soon as he set it down, it crawled back to the wall as if compelled. He repeated the process, and again, Justin’s hand scrambled back to the wall and kept scratching. Fresh electric terror shot through his guts. Unable to watch any longer, he grabbed his son and shook him.

“Justin! Wake up!”

“Whaaaa, Dad whaat…” Justin moaned.

Jack slumped onto the bed. “I’m sorry…you were doing things in your sleep and I couldn’t tell if you were awake. Are you ok?”

Justin mumbled something unintelligible and propped himself up on his elbows.

“What?” Jack asked.

“My fingers hurt.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve been clawing at the wall for the lord knows how long.”

“I was having a dream.”

“Was it scary? You looked…” Jack abandoned this line of questioning, realizing he may have been leading Justin to something unnecessarily.

“I was playing in that fort over in the woods. I was down inside, digging for something.”

Jack looked up at the wall and realized what was on the other side of it, several hundred feet into the woods.

When Jack didn’t respond, Justin asked, “Dad?”

Jack shook his head curtly. “Sorry, bud, just get back to sleep, ok?”

“Ok.”

“I love you. Sleep tight.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Jack ruffled Justin’s hair and left the room, unbelievably more wired than when he had entered it. He found his half-gone whiskey and sat to nurse it in the living area recliner.

Sometime around midnight, the scratching began again. Not long after, Jack, still in the recliner, passed into a deep sleep with his head cocked at an uncomfortable angle and snoring loudly. He dreamed of Bigfoot—that silly ape-suit-wearing human—loping through the woods and the figure of his son following it. He tried to get between the two and get Justin’s attention, but could never get close enough. His son’s bare arm and the right side of his face looked grey, dead, lifeless. When the creature turned to look at him, as he knew it would, he saw it had grown two enormous fangs.

Around four in the morning, Jack woke half in a daze and with a very sore neck. He scrunched up his eyes in pain and massaged it roughly. As he stumbled to bed, he let out a sigh of relief.

The scratching had stopped.

Continue to Part 13 now.