Innsmouth Nightmares Read online

  “Anybody would think you don’t want me to meet them or something?” Naomi had said.

  “It’s not that, it’s…” Gerry nodded. “Hey, I’m sure they’ll love you as much as I do. You’re very special, you know.”

  She’d beamed at that.

  But here, now, those doubts—fueled by Gerry’s words—were resurfacing. Worst case scenarios: the mother thought she was a gold-digging whore; the father said they’d disown Gerry if he didn’t tell her to get lost; the brother was a monster, was everything she hated in a guy—

  No! She willed away the dark thoughts. Easier said than done, when the weather seemed to be turning against her as well. Clear, bright blue skies had now given way to a dull gray horizon with ink-blot clouds that looked like shadows. Even the pretty fields that she’d been staring at in a daze had become strange bog-like stretches of land. When had that happened?

  “Enjoy your nap?” asked Gerry.

  Naomi didn’t even know she’d been asleep. She’d been worrying about what was going to happen when they arrived and then…Telling herself to relax, she’d obviously relaxed a little too much. Now she’d woken up and everything had taken on a strange dull cast, as if the film of her life had just switched from technicolor to black and white.

  “How long was I… ?”

  “Not long. But it’s actually not that far now,” Gerry informed her. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased about that or not. She knew he was looking forward to seeing the brood again, but maybe under different circumstances? Maybe not with her in tow. Perhaps they were mad that he’d kept Naomi from them all this time? Moms in particular could be like that, couldn’t they? Not that she’d know…Not that she’d ever really known her mom properly before she’d—

  (Blood, water. The razor…How she always pictured it in her head.)

  No, stop it. You’re doing it again. Stop that right now!

  The car carried on, and through the window now she could see the coastline—the angry sea running parallel to them. Rain suddenly started up, striking the windscreen and causing her to jump in her seat.

  Battered by cold, hard reality.

  “You okay?” asked Gerry, flicking on the wipers, and she gave a small tip of the head.

  But she wasn’t. Far from it. The downpour was making her even more anxious, doing little to calm her nerves. By the time they were driving down what Gerry called “Federal Street,” the rain had settled into a steady drizzle and it was almost dark—in spite of the fact it was only afternoon and the nights were supposed to be getting lighter by the day.

  Dark clouds, dark thoughts…dark place.

  Gerry was going to take her on a little guided tour first, he informed her. Naomi wondered if he was just putting off the crunch time, but that was okay—she wasn’t in any rush to sink their relationship (she’d already decided by now that this whole thing would be a washout). He pointed out landmarks such as the old churches that surrounded the New Church Green, the hall on her right where the townspeople used to hold gatherings, the old town square and what had once been the refinery, before they passed over the bridge which ran across the Manuxet River, and he drew her attention to the lighthouse in the distance. When he spoke about his hometown, it was with such a sense of pride, of belonging, and Naomi wished that she could experience that as well. Because all she saw was a place that might well have been really nice once, but was now in a state of disrepair and ruin.

  Everything in ruins…

  Gerry was clearly seeing all of this through rose-tinted glasses; as if through the eyes of a child. And that smell! Naomi did her best not to crinkle up her nose, but the aroma was so strong. A distinctive stench of the ocean, of fish.

  Touring round the town square, Gerry showed her the old fire station, the Gilman House hotel, a couple of stores, and what had been his favourite restaurant when he’d lived here. “Makes the best calamari in the northeast,” Gerry stated; he did so love his seafood. It looked like a bit of a dive to Naomi, but she said nothing.

  Gerry’s family lived down by the sea itself, she knew, and Naomi peered over when he pointed to exactly where. It looked like some of the worst houses were situated down there, their wood and brickwork plagued by rot. He hadn’t been kidding when he said they were barely keeping their heads above water…in every respect. She couldn’t help gaping across at him then.

  “Your parents…live down there?”

  “Ahuh,” he said simply.

  She looked again, thinking maybe she was missing something—but she wasn’t. If anything, this closer scrutiny showed her that the problem was even more severe; some of the houses were tilting, as if they were about to simply fall into the waves and be swept away.

  I know Gerry said they weren’t doing so well, but this is ridiculous, thought Naomi. And all that money he earned, how little must he have been sending back home for them to still be living in such squalor? In such a town as this?

  A ghost town, for in all the time they’d been driving around, Naomi had yet to spot one person. Yes, it was raining and she didn’t blame anyone for staying indoors in such poor weather, but that didn’t explain why the buildings all looked deserted as well. There were no lights on, nothing. It was almost as if they wanted to purposefully give the impression here that nobody was home.

  She was about to mention this to Gerry, when he suddenly turned and said, “I guess we’d better be heading off to see them then.”

  Naomi nodded slowly, feeling her guts tying themselves into knots. Gerry steered the BMW down a couple more streets, then parked it up by the side of the road, telling her they’d have to walk from there.

  “You’re kidding?” she said, looking up through the window. It was pouring and she hadn’t thought to bring either a coat or an umbrella with her; it had been such lovely weather when they’d set off. Her summer dress would be drenched in seconds. But Gerry didn’t appear to be thinking about that, probably more bothered about what his family would think of her—plus it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get any closer. In any event, he was out of the car now, slamming the door, so she followed him.

  Gerry had his head tilted back, eyes closed. He seemed to be relishing the water on his face, unlike her. She coughed and he finally noticed her, standing there soaking. “Sorry,” he said and came round to escort her down the path.

  She almost slipped once or twice, especially in those shoes she’d chosen for the occasion—nothing too flashy, but they did have heels. Naomi was grabbing on to Gerry for dear life by the time they arrived at the house: a ramshackle affair that looked like it was on its last legs, with slates missing from the roof. While off to the side was the small jetty Gerry had mentioned: uneven and held up by posts, it dipped and tilted and apparently led nowhere but into the sea itself.

  Once again it looked like there was nobody at home.

  Naomi got under the cover of the porch, but the rain still wasn’t bothering Gerry. Her hair and make-up—which she’d taken so long over—would be pretty much ruined now; so much for first impressions. “Oh Gerry, whatever are they going to think of me?”

  “You look wonderful to me,” he replied. “Perfect.”

  Nobody was perfect, especially not her. She must look like a drowned dog.

  “It’s just a bit of water, they won’t mind.”

  Naomi stared at the battered door. “I’m not so sure this is a good id—” She began, but it was already opening with a creak. Or maybe it was just finally collapsing, hanging there as it was on one hinge. The thought crossed her mind again that Gerry should be sending them more money, either that or relocating them completely. Getting them out of this godforsaken hole.

  The neglected family.

  “Let me go in first,” said Gerry, which she had no problem with at all. Then he was gone, swallowed up inside that darkness…

  Dark place, dark house…

  …and Naomi realized she was standing on the doorstep, what little there was of it, on her own.

  Abandone
d.

  When she did peer inside she saw that there was a light coming from somewhere, flickering and casting shadows. The faint glow of a candle? Maybe there had been a power failure? Or it had been cut off for lack of payment? The putrid paintwork of the place was peeling, or it was just trying to flee the walls—she knew how it felt. The carpet she was treading on was damp and squishy, but there was little wonder as the rain was finding its way into the house from above. Perhaps that was what had caused the power to go off?

  “H-Hello?” she called out, her eyes readjusting to the gloom.

  Then she saw them, standing there in the hallway, Gerry next to a woman who was smaller than him, her outline dumpy. Mom-shaped. The dress she had on covered most of her body, made from a thick material as it was. Her hair was tied up in a bun on top of her head, but various strands had leapt out and floated on the air—giving her a look of being submerged. Her smile was warm, though, welcoming. It was her who had the candle, stuck inside some kind of ornate holder.

  “Over here,” Gerry said, unnecessarily.

  Naomi continued to make her way inside, passing a set of what looked like the most rickety of stairs heading to an upper level.

  “Mother, this is my…special friend. Miss Naomi Jackson.”

  Naomi frowned. She’d been wondering how he would introduce her, when the time came. Is that what she was, then? His friend? You worshipped your friends, did you? She was savvy enough to know it was because of the old-fashioned thing, though, the being set in your ways. At least he’d called her special.

  But still, friend?

  The woman stepped forward, stooping, shambling almost in a way that made Naomi want to cover the distance between them to save her the trouble.

  “Gerald’s teld us so much about yer,” said the woman, free hand out.

  Naomi shook it tentatively. “Really?”

  “Oh yes.” Her strange accent made it sound like “yersh.” Her eyes twinkled in the light from the candle, as she looked Naomi up and down.

  “I’m really sorry about…I must look such a mess,” she said to the woman.

  “Naw, yer beautiful dear,” said Gerry’s mother.

  That made Naomi smile. “I hate to ask this when I’ve only just arrived, but I don’t suppose there’s anywhere I can…you know, freshen up at all?”

  “Course,” said the woman. “Yer’ve had a long drive.” She pointed to the stairs. “Just at the top there, oh and yer’d better take this.”

  She handed Naomi the candle, which she took with a thanks. Then they went off, leaving her alone again, standing there staring up the stairs she’d have to negotiate. Naomi took her time, very nearly putting her foot through one slat, but eventually she reached the top. The bathroom was opposite, just as Gerry’s mom had promised, so she carried the candle through and locked the door behind her.

  Water was dripping on her from above, but ironically, when she’d placed the candle down and out of its reach, she couldn’t get any to come through the taps attached to the chipped sink. The pipes just rattled and gurgled. She sighed when she looked in the cracked mirror in front of her, it was like the Joker staring back. So she picked up a towel in an attempt to dry herself—only to realize that they were just as sopping as she was. Naomi could at least use it to wipe away the worst of the make-up, she told herself.

  As she was putting it back on the rail, she found herself gazing across at the old bath in the corner. Her mind went immediately to her own mother, as she pictured her in one very similar, water slopping over the edge as she held up the razor. Drawing it across veins, redness dripping into—

  Blood, water. Water, blood.

  She shook her head, snatching up the candle again and leaving as quickly as she could. The whole exercise had been a bit of a waste of time really, she looked almost as bad as she had when she arrived.

  Naomi had one foot on the step to come down, when a big splash from the ceiling put out the candle, with no way to relight it. She swallowed, hard—left the candle and its holder on the stairs, as she figured she’d definitely need both hands now. By the time she was halfway down, she was on the verge of tears. None of this was going right at all, and to make things worse she could hear raised voices coming from what had to be the lounge—where Gerry and his mom had retreated. She strained to listen, but couldn’t tell what the argument was about; all she could make out were male voices—one of them Gerry’s.

  Though in her heart of hearts Naomi knew it had to be about her. Everything she feared was coming true.

  When she reached the bottom and stepped off (a big step), her foot landed in a puddle of some kind. “What the…” she managed. Instead of just damp, the carpet was now under at least a couple of inches of water.

  Naomi swished through this…

  Was there any wonder she was getting cold feet now?

  …feeling her way around into the corridor again: aiming for the lounge. The arguing stopped when she reached the doorway and turned the corner. There were a couple more candles in this room, but these were no match for the murk inside. She could just about make out the shapes in there: Gerry with his mom again; and next to her was a seated figure, a man. Naomi squinted, thought that he had no legs at first, then realized he had a blanket over his knees. He was sitting next to a table which had one candle on it, so he was better illuminated than the others.

  He was dressed in a suit that looked like it had seen its better days in the previous century—early in the previous century. The skin on his face was tight and shiny, as if it was about to rip at any moment, especially at the corners of his down-turned mouth—except for the flesh underneath his eyes, which hung in bags below two white, bulging orbs. He was virtually hairless, didn’t even have eyebrows, but then what kind of hair could possibly grow on that head anyway? thought Naomi.

  Gerry’s father, had to be.

  “Come on in, girly, don’t be shy,” said the man, beckoning with a hand. He sounded like he’d been gargling with those words, before spitting them out. “Let’s have a look atchyer.”

  Gerry said nothing.

  Naomi ventured in a little further, suddenly all too aware of how her dress was clinging to her, especially when the man’s bulbous eyes lingered a little too long on her breasts. What started off as folding her arms across her chest soon turned into a hug she was giving herself, and not just because she was freezing.

  “Ahh,” gurgled the man. “Preddy you are.” He licked his lips; it made Naomi feel physically sick.

  “Now, now, Benjamin,” said his wife. “Stop that.”

  No, stop it. You’re doing it again. Stop that right now!

  “Yer scaring the poor lass.”

  “N-Not at all,” said Naomi, struggling to keep the hitch from her voice.

  The woman picked something up from the table with a rattle and a clink. “Would yer like a cup of tea, dear?” she asked Naomi, obviously deciding that the girl was going to get one regardless. “I’ve just this minute made a pot.” Again she was shambling across the space, forcing Naomi to meet her halfway, taking the chipped cup and saucer from her hands.

  Naomi looked down at the tea. It was thick and gelatinous…and though it was hard to tell, there looked to be a greenish tint to it. The woman was waiting there expectantly. Naomi grimaced, took a sip. It was cold—very cold—and tasted brackish, but she forced it down with another hard swallow. It almost came immediately back up when she saw how the remaining liquid had settled back in the base of the cup, like mud in a river.

  “Somethin’ to eat, p’haps?”

  Naomi thought of the calamari back at the restaurant Gerry had talked about and held up a hand. “Oh, no…no thank you. I’m really not—”

  “So whet d’ya think of our little town then?” This from the father, who practically coughed out the last of his phlegmy question.

  “Erm…it’s…er…”

  “Bin around since the seventeenth century, it has. A hugely successful seaport at one time or annuther.�
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  “It…” Naomi was struggling for something to say. “Forgive me, but it seems to have fallen on…dark times of late.”

  All three of them looked at her, almost in unison—and as if to silently say that they might never, ever forgive her.

  “There’s bin darker,” said Gerry’s mother, pulling back to join her son and husband again, wading through the water.

  The older folk splashing around…

  “But we endure,” her husband added. “We endure. Like as after that nasty business back in the ‘30s, the persecutions. Some hid, some escaped. But if it hadn’t a bin for the War comin’ along when it did…people forgettin’.” He shook his head. “We survived those hardships anyway. What few of us were left, we endured.”

  “Let’s not talk about all that,” Gerry’s mom cut in, trying to change the subject. “Let’s talk about you two. All very exciting, I have to say.”

  More than just a friend then, if it was exciting?

  “I’m…Gerry’s…” Naomi began. “You must be very proud of him, all he’s achieved.”

  “Aye,” said the mother, “he’s a good lad. Loyal, y’know?”

  She nodded; Naomi knew that. Everything else aside, all this aside, she was well aware of that. “Proud of how well he’s done for himself out there, with his business and everything?”

  The man in the chair laughed suddenly then, a sort of strange gurgling noise. “For ‘imself?”

  “Father,” said Gerry. “Please don’t.”

  “You think ‘e did all that by ‘imself.”

  “Benjamin!” This was the mother again. “Now’s not the time nor the place.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t go on pretendin’,” said the father. “‘im there thinkin’ he could just keep her to ‘imself like that.” He coughed that watery cough again.

  Naomi was frowning once more. So they were mad about him keeping quiet? Had that been what the argument had been about?

  “Thinkin’ we’d be all right about the two of ‘em!”

  No, this was all about her not fitting in again, wasn’t it? Just like uni, like work. About her being an outsider, not being accepted. For God’s sake, if you couldn’t even be accepted here, by these people…But how would Gerry feel about that, she could see the way he…worshipped this place. Had basically been forced to leave it so he could try and bail his folks out—the water rising, up to her calves now—but what did his dad mean when he said Gerry hadn’t done it on his own?