“What’s she doing, Bud?”

  “I...I don’t know. It looks like she’s dragging something heavy.”

  Brushing past his son, Brian stepped onto the front steps just as the woman turned off the sidewalk and began walking up the path. “Shit.”

  “What is it, Dad?” Keith asked, looking over his father’s shoulder and gasping as he noticed the woman was brandishing an axe.

  “Get in the house, son.”

  “What’s she...”

  “Get in the damn house. NOW!!”

  Keith ran as the woman took the first swing of the axe, the blade embedding itself in the door jamb, missing Brian by a matter of inches. “MOM, HELP.”

  Rebecca emerged from the kitchen, a scowl on her face. “What’s with all the yelling?”

  “Look,” Keith said, pointing at the front door.

  Rebecca reached out and grabbed her son by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to the door under the stairs. “Get in there,” she said, gesturing at the cramped space.

  Keith peered inside and noticed red symbols painted on the walls. He may have been sixteen years of age, but Keith instantly felt like a little kid scared of the dark. “No way, Mom.”

  Not willing to argue the point, Rebecca shoved her son into the closet, screaming as she watched the woman plunge the head of the axe into her husband’s chest.

  The world fell into darkness as the door closed behind Keith. He heard the door locking and then felt something hit his foot. Reaching down, he grabbed the key to the storage space, which his mother had slid under the door.

  “Don’t you dare come out of there until I tell you,” Rebecca screamed, her voice cracking.

  Fighting to control his breathing, Keith pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees. Even with his eyes open, there was little to see but impenetrable dark, the light coming in from under the door doing little to illuminate the space. He pushed himself against the back wall and flinched at every noise coming from beyond his hiding space. I should help. I need to help.

  Something heavy crashed against the door, and the sound immediately extinguished all thoughts of playing the role of hero. Keith whimpered as he heard the old lady speak.

  “I smell you in there, boy. You and your family are cursed, and I am coming for you. There is nowhere to hide. I...”

  Another loud crash rattled the door on its hinges, the chattering of the old woman stopped immediately. Keith waited for some word from his parents, but all he heard were his mother’s sobs and the sound of sirens off in the distance. He moved toward the door and stopped when his hand fell into something warm and wet. He touched the front of his pants to see if he had peed himself, but the scent of old pennies filling the space made it clear that he had set his hand in a pool of blood. Keith opened his mouth to scream, but he blacked out before the sound could escape.

  When he awoke, Keith found himself in the back of an ambulance strapped to a gurney. “Where are my parents?” he croaked.

  A female medic came into view and placed a hand on his chest. “Relax, Keith. You’ll see them at the hospital. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “But, my dad. He...”

  “Shh. I’m going to give you something to help you rest. You might feel a pinch in your arm.”

  Before he could argue, Keith felt something sharp in his upper arm. He turned his head to the side and felt the world spin before it once again faded to black.

  Chapter Eleven

  If Gabe Abernathy was shocked by the story, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “Thank you for sharing, Keith. How do you feel now that it’s out?”

  “Lighter. I’ve never told that story since I spoke to the police the night it happened. Telling it now, it’s almost as though it happened to someone else.”

  “It happened to you, and there was nothing you could have done to change it. Do you see that now?”

  “I do. I don’t know how my mom lived with it. She watched that crazy woman carve up my dad and then killed the old hag. She was always the strongest of us all.”

  “Did they ever find out why the woman came to your house?”

  “She lived there before we owned it. The bank foreclosed on it and put her and her son on the street. I guess she blamed my parents for the whole thing.”

  Abernathy checked his watch and slid his notepad into the desk drawer. “You made some great progress today, Keith. I believe you will find that things get better from here on out, but be aware that even when your time here comes to an end, you are looking at an ongoing process to get your life back to some semblance of normalcy.”

  “I’m ready to do the work, Doc.”

  “I know you are, and I’ll be there to help as much as possible.”

  Keith stood and headed for the door, stopping when Abernathy spoke again.

  “Call it morbid curiosity, Keith, but do you know what happened to Mary’s son?”

  “No idea. The police never did find him, maybe because there was no official record of Mary ever having a child. No one even knows if he was hers by blood or just some kid she plucked off the street.”

  “Strange indeed,” Abernathy said. “Get some rest, and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  THE FINAL FEW WEEKS at New Beginnings went quickly. Keith used his time well, signing up for classes at the local community college with an eye on getting into health care. He spent a lot of time talking to Benny, learning that the orderly had followed a path similar to the one that Keith planned on following.

  When the day came to leave, Keith felt more than a little sad at leaving rehab behind. As he stood on the front steps waiting for Mark to arrive, Doctor Abernathy moved in beside him, handing over a business card. “In case you need to talk,” the doctor said.

  Keith shook the man’s hand, resisting the urge to hug him. Instead, he said, “Thanks, Doc. I hope I don’t need it, although I might call you for something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m going back to school, as you know, but I’d like to come here and volunteer, help out any way I can.”

  The doctor nodded. “I might be able to help with that, but I think it’s important that you take some time to return to normal life first. You might find that the urge to return diminishes when you settle at home.”

  “I want to help, Gabe. The way you and the staff helped me.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time for that, trust me. For now, focus on helping yourself and mending those bridges you talked about.” Abernathy pointed in the direction of the front gates. “Is that your ride?”

  Using his hand to block the sun from his eyes, Keith looked at the approaching vehicle and smiled. “That’s Mark, right on time as always.”

  “Look after yourself, Keith, and remember that I am a phone call away if you need me.” With that, the doctor spun on his heel and went inside, leaving Keith alone on the front steps.

  The car pulled up, and Mark rolled down the window on the passenger side. “Yout chariot awaits, good sir,” he yelled, a big grin on his face.

  Keith got into the car and snapped on the seatbelt. “Thank you, peasant,” he said, his smile as wide as his best friend’s.”

  “Cheeky bugger. Where are we off to?”

  “I’d kill for a drink,” Keith said, licking his lips.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Coffee, Mark. I haven’t had a decent cup of Joe in three months. Take me to the nearest Starbucks and do it quickly.”

  “Jesus, mate, you scared me. Coffee it is.”

  As the car pulled off and made its way down the gravel path, Keith took one last look behind him, saying a silent word of thanks to the place that may well have saved his life.

  Chapter Twelve

  The first sip of coffee burned his tongue, but Keith didn’t care. It tasted so good, and he wanted to savor every single drop.

  “Should you be drinking caffeine?” Mark asked, a look of concern on his face. “I mean, it’s essentially a drug, right?”

  “Quit worrying. I’m good, I swear. I haven’t felt this alive in forever, and I’m not about to dull that feeling anytime soon.”

  Mark took a sip of his coffee and looked around the shop, which was as busy as always. “Look at all these people on their laptops, probably worried about student loans and not giving a damn about paying eight bucks for a cup of crushed beans. It’s crazy when you think about it.”

  “I’m going to be one of them soon enough,” Keith said, checking out the line at the counter and contemplating diving in for a refill.

  “So, you’re going to school then?”

  “I am. It’s time to stop looking backward and start thinking about the future.”

  Mark raised his styrofoam cup in the air and said, “I’ll drink to that.”

  “Look at you, all worried about my health while toasting me with caffeine,” Keith laughed.

  “Point well made. What’s on the schedule for the rest of the day?”

  “I need to pick up groceries and then start making a list of things that need fixing around the house.”

  Mark raised a finger and reached into his pocket. “Speaking of which, here are your house keys. Your mom gave them to me before, well, you know.”

  The keys felt heavy in Keith’s hand but also solid and real. If he’d been asked about the prospect of holding those keys a few months ago, he would have balked at the idea and lost himself in a bottle of cheap booze just thinking it. Now, though, he felt a tingle of anticipation and a sense of urgency. He wanted to move in and start making the place his own. While Keith still hadn’t decided what to do with the house in the future, he felt no trepidation about going there now. The idea of curling up in his own bed brought a smile to his face.

  “You look good, mate. Happy,” Mark said.

  “I am. Thank you for sticking around to see it.”

  They sat in awkward silence, neither one particularly used to sharing their feelings with the other. It was Mark who finally broke the silence. “I can take you grocery shopping and then run you home. I’ve got to study tonight, but we can look at getting some stuff done around the house tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a plan as soon as I get my second cup of coffee.”

  AFTER BIDDING FAREWELL to Mark, Keith set about putting the groceries away and making a bite to eat. Sitting at the dining room table, wolfing down a burger, he quickly surveyed the room and started making a mental note of things to change. His eyes drifted to the discolored patch of hardwood by the closet door as he looked around. Rather than seeing it as a mark made by congealing blood, he now saw it as another item on his to-do list.

  Curiosity piqued, Keith strolled over to the closet door and tried to open it, only to find it locked. The key sat in the lock, so he gave it a turn and opened the door. A not unpleasant musty smell wafted out, reminding Keith of his days as a paper delivery boy. When it rained, the newspapers would get wet, and the scent of the damp paper would cling to his fingers for the rest of the day.

  Taking out his phone, Keith toggled the flashlight on and shone it into the space under the stairs. Other than a few dust bunnies and a rather nasty-looking spider tucked up in the corner, there was nothing to see. Keith played the beam across the walls, looking for evidence of the strange symbols he had seen on the night of the attack, but they were either a figment of his imagination or had been covered by a fresh coat of paint.

  Returning to the dining room, he wolfed down the last of his burger, cleaned up the dishes, and settled on the couch for a night in front of the TV. He awoke to the sound of the doorbell ringing and bright sunlight streaming through the window. A quick look at his watch told him it was after nine in the morning. He did a double-take, as that meant he had slept for close to eleven hours.

  Keith stood and stretched before heading into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Once it was brewing, he went to the front door and peeked outside, seeing a box sitting on the step. He glanced up and down the street, but it was empty. The delivery driver must have dropped the package and left. He lifted it inside and placed it on the table by the door, noticing the stickers that blared “FRAGILE” and “HUMAN CREMAINS.” Keith groaned aloud, upset that he’s forgotten that his mother’s ashes were due for delivery.

  He filled the largest mug he could find with black coffee and retrieved a large knife from the rack on the counter. Slicing into the packing tape, Keith cut the box open and cursed as a shower of packing peanuts fell onto the floor. He reached into the box and pulled out the urn wrapped in a thick coating of bubble wrap. Keith sliced it open and removed it from around the urn, frowning with confusion when he finally got it free. “What the hell?”

  The urn supposedly holding his mother’s ashes was not the one he’d seen at the service. Her selection was a rose-colored wooden box, while the one he held seemed carved from ebony and inlaid with gold leaf. He turned it around in his hands and noticed a brass plaque attached to the bottom, engraved with an inscription in a language he didn’t recognize. Reaching inside the box, he removed the rest of the packing peanuts until he came across a business card bearing the name and number of the funeral home. He found his phone and punched in the number. “Someone is going to pay for this fuck up,” he said as the line connected and the funeral home phone began to ring.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After a couple of rings, the connection was made, and a cheery voice picked up on the other end of the line. “Good morning. Maginnis and Holloway Funeral Home, this is Paula speaking. How may I help you today?”

  Taking a deep breath, Keith took a moment to explain the situation and forcefully demanded that someone do something about it.

  “Oh, goodness me. Let me connect you to the director. I’m sure he can help,” Paula said, still sounding all too happy.

  Keith wanted to yell at her and make her feel some of his anger and frustration, but fortunately, there was a click, and some elevator music began drifting across the line. It only lasted for less than a minute before there was another click.

  "Good morning, Mr. Mills. This is Enis speaking. I apologize for the confusion. Could you please take a moment to tell me more about your problem?”

  “I’ll tell you what’s happening, Enis. You have sent me the wrong remains. Instead of having my mother’s ashes at home, I have an urn belonging to some damn stranger.”

  On the other end of the line, Keith could hear keys tapping on a keyboard. The sound seemed to go on for an eternity before Enis spoke again.

  “I am sorry to hear that, sir, but our records indicate that your mother’s remains are scheduled to go out to you later today. We still have them on site. Are you sure that the package you received was indeed from us?”

  Keith gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. “Of course, I’m sure it was from you. A business card was inside the box bearing the name of your funeral home.”

  “That is unfortunate, and again, I must apologize. Let me see if I can take care of this for you. Can you tell me about the remains you received?”

  “They came in a black and gold fancy urn, and, oh, there is an inscription on there that also looks like another mistake on your end.”

  “How so, Mr. Mills?”

  “The inscription is either in some weird language or just altogether wrong.”

  “What does it say?”

  “If I knew that, I would tell you. Hold on.” Keith tilted his head and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder. He then lifted the urn and looked at the brass plate, trying to figure out what it said. The more he looked, the more it made sense to some level. “I think the inscription is backward.”

  “Can you figure it out, sir? It would help me get this situation fixed for you.”

  Looking for further clues, Keith turned the urn around and gasped when he saw the reflection in the mirror above the table. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Sir?”

  “Krvava Meri.”

  “What was that, Mr. Mills.”

  “The inscription. It says Krvava Meri.” Keith heard the keyboard tapping begin again on the other end of the line.

  “Could you repeat that for me one more time, sir?”

  “It’s Krvava Meri. Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Keith hissed as the urn began to feel hot in his hands. He placed it back on the table and almost let out a scream when he saw the reflection of Mary Godelj in the mirror, standing just behind him, a wicked grin on her face. He jumped backward, dropping the phone on the floor. He could still hear Enis talking on the other end of the line.

  “Mr. Mills? Hello? Can you hear me? I can have someone out there shortly to correct the situation. Mr. Mills?”

  Keith snatched up the phone and said, “That would be great. I gotta go.” He ended the call and dared to look in the mirror one more time, seeing nothing but his reflection. Closing his eyes, Keith took several deep breaths as he tried to get himself into a meditative state.

  THUMP. THUMP.

  His eyes shot open, searching for the source of the noise. “What the fuck?” The urn lifted off the table, came down with a thud, and then did it again, the lid rattling as the movements became more ferocious.

  It's not real. It can’t be real.

  The lid flew off, shooting into the air like a bottle rocket before falling at Keith’s feet, somehow still miraculously intact. He stepped away from it as though it were infected and turned his attention back to the urn, which was now sitting perfectly still. He reached out to touch it and quickly pulled his hand away as it began to rattle and shake. When a set of bony fingers appeared out of the opening, Keith unleashed a scream of pure terror.

  MARK ROLLED OVER IN bed and reached for his phone on the bedside table. It was early, and while he wanted to go back to sleep, the urge to pee and his promise to meet Keith forced him out of bed.

  After a quick visit to the toilet, Mark loaded a pod into the Keurig and fired the machine up. He picked up his phone and contemplated calling Keith, but figuring that his friend might still be in bed, he decided to wait a little while longer.