The Nightmare People

1.

When Khalil turned off the engine they both heard it – something was wailing.

The two men looked at each other. Then Smith opened his door.

“Come on,” he said, swinging his crutches out.

Khalil climbed out, and led the way up to the porch. They moved slowly, step by step, sweeping the lawn and shrubbery with Smith’s flashlight.

Everything seemed peaceful – except that inside the house something was screaming and weeping wildly.

And all the downstairs lights were on, even though it was well after one in the morning.

The noise didn’t seem human – but then, it probably wasn’t.

“Damn, I wonder what the neighbors think!” Smith muttered, as he awkwardly tried to mount the porch steps. He had had little practice using crutches; it had been a long, long time since he’d broken any bones, and he had never before done anything like burning his foot this badly.

Khalil rang the bell.

“Who is it?” Annie’s voice called a moment later.

“It is Khalil Saad,” he answered.

“Oh,” Annie called, “I wonder, could you come to the front window and draw a little blood, please?”

Up until now, the standard procedure had been to open the front door and draw a few drops of blood there. Nobody had thought it was necessary to keep the door closed and use the window.

That didn’t mean it was a bad idea. Khalil looked at Smith, who tried to shrug and almost fell. They both made their way to the window.

Smith leaned on one crutch while he fished out his switchblade, then jabbed his left little finger and held it up where Annie could see it. It seemed a little stupid to be deliberately wounding himself like this when he was practically held together with bandages already, but he obliged his hostess.

Annie smiled at the sight of his blood, then looked expectantly at Khalil.

Khalil took the knife from Smith and pricked his own finger, reopening a wound he had already used several times.

Annie nodded. “Be right there!” she called through the glass.

A moment later the door opened, admitting them.

As they stepped inside Annie started to say something about the crutches, and Smith started to ask about the now-clearly-audible screaming, but Khalil cut them both off.

“Mrs. McGowan,” he said, “If you would please?” He held out the switchblade.

Annie grimaced, but she took the knife and stuck herself, piercing the scab on one finger.

Blood flowed redly.

She handed Smith the knife; he accepted it and put it back in his pocket, and all three of them relaxed.

“Annie,” Smith asked, as he closed the front door, “What’s the noise?”

“Oh, let me show you!” she said, clearly proud of herself. “It’s upstairs.”

Smith was in no condition for climbing stairs. After several attempts, Khalil assisted him up the stairs, leaving the crutches in the foyer.