WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

chapter 7

WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

CHAPTER SEVEN — THE HOUSE THAT FOLLOWS

The car moved without anyone touching the steering wheel.

Mara grabbed it anyway.

She pulled hard to the left.

Nothing happened.

The car continued down the narrow road toward Blackwood Manor.

"Stop!" she screamed.

The woman beside her smiled.

She looked like Mara's grandmother.

She sounded like Mara's grandmother.

But she wasn't.

Mara knew that now.

"Who are you?" Mara demanded.

The woman stared straight ahead.

"You've asked that question so many times."

"Answer me!"

The woman turned slowly.

Her eyes were completely black.

Mara recoiled.

"I am what your family left behind."

The car accelerated.

Mara grabbed the door handle.

Locked.

She tried again.

Nothing.

"Let me out!"

The woman laughed softly.

"You always try to run."

"I said let me out!"

"You ran thirteen years ago."

Mara froze.

"What do you mean?"

The woman's smile faded.

"You don't remember running?"

Mara stared at her.

Images flashed through her mind.

A little girl.

Bare feet.

Rain.

A hallway.

A black door.

Her mother screaming.

Luca holding her hand.

Then something chasing them.

Mara shook her head.

"No."

The woman leaned closer.

"You ran from your brother."

"No."

"You left him behind."

"You're lying."

"You heard him screaming."

Mara covered her ears.

"Stop!"

"You heard him."

"Stop!"

"And you kept running."

"STOP!"

The car suddenly stopped.

Mara's body jerked forward.

Silence.

She looked through the windshield.

Blackwood Manor stood ahead.

But something was different.

The house had changed.

It looked larger.

Taller.

Its windows seemed endless.

Mara whispered:

"That isn't possible."

The woman beside her smiled.

"Blackwood grows when someone remembers."

The front doors opened.

Mara stared.

Nobody was standing there.

Yet she heard footsteps.

Coming from inside.

The woman unlocked the doors.

"Get out."

Mara didn't move.

"Get out."

"No."

The woman's face changed.

For a moment, she looked like her grandmother again.

"Please, Mara."

Her voice became weak.

"I'm scared."

Mara stared.

The imitation had learned another trick.

It knew how to sound helpless.

"I know you're not my grandmother."

The woman smiled.

"Good."

Her hand moved toward Mara.

Mara slapped it away.

The creature's face twisted.

Its skin seemed to ripple for a second.

Then it returned to the familiar face.

"You've become difficult."

Mara pushed the door open.

This time, it opened.

She jumped out and ran.

She didn't run toward the house.

She ran toward the forest.

Branches scratched her jacket.

The darkness swallowed her.

Behind her, the creature shouted.

"Mara!"

She kept running.

"MARA!"

She didn't stop.

Then she heard another voice.

"Louder!"

It was Luca.

Mara stopped.

She turned.

He stood between two trees.

Six years old.

Pale.

Terrified.

But this time, his eyes looked human.

"Luca?"

He nodded.

"Come with me."

Mara hesitated.

"How do I know you're really Luca?"

He looked at her sadly.

"You don't."

Mara stepped backward.

He lowered his eyes.

"That's why you're afraid."

"Tell me something only Luca would know."

He thought for a moment.

Then said:

"The red box."

Mara froze.

"What about it?"

"We buried it beneath Mom's rose bush."

"What's inside?"

Luca smiled.

"A broken blue cup."

Mara's heart stopped.

She remembered.

The cup.

The red box.

The garden.

That memory belonged to them.

But she still didn't trust him.

"What happened to the box?"

"Mom found it."

"When?"

"After you disappeared."

Mara frowned.

"I disappeared?"

Luca nodded.

"You opened the door, and the house took you."

"But I'm here."

"Not completely."

Mara stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

Luca stepped closer.

"Part of you never came back."

Mara felt cold.

"What part?"

"The part that remembers."

A branch cracked behind them.

Luca looked over his shoulder.

"We have to go."

"Where?"

"To the garden."

"Why?"

"Because your real grandmother is there."

Mara followed him.

They moved through the forest.

Blackwood Manor disappeared behind the trees.

After several minutes, they reached an old stone wall.

Beyond it was a garden.

Mara recognized it instantly.

The Vale garden.

Her mother had grown roses there.

Most of the plants were dead now.

Except one.

A single rose bush grew in the center.

Its flowers were dark red.

Luca pointed toward it.

"Dig."

Mara stared.

"Why?"

"Because that's where she left it."

"Who?"

"Mom."

Mara knelt.

She pushed the soil aside with her hands.

After a few minutes, her fingers touched wood.

She pulled out a small red box.

The same box from her memory.

Mara's heart pounded.

She opened it.

Inside was the broken blue cup.

A photograph.

And a small piece of paper.

Mara unfolded it.

Only one sentence was written:

IF MARA RETURNS, TELL HER THE TRUTH BEFORE THE HOUSE DOES.

Mara looked at Luca.

"What truth?"

He didn't answer.

"Luca."

He stared at the ground.

"You aren't Mara."

She froze.

"What?"

"You were Mara."

Mara shook her head.

"No."

"Thirteen years ago, the house took the real Mara."

Her breathing stopped.

"Then who am I?"

Luca looked at her with tears in his eyes.

"You are what came back."

Mara stepped backward.

"No."

"You don't remember because she doesn't."

"Who?"

"The real Mara."

Mara dropped the paper.

Her mind began spinning.

The strange memories.

The missing years.

The house recognizing her.

The copies.

The photographs.

Her grandmother.

Her mother.

Everything suddenly seemed connected.

"You mean I'm a copy?"

Luca shook his head.

"Not exactly."

"Then what am I?"

"You are Mara's memory."

Mara stared at him.

"I don't understand."

"Neither does the house."

He pointed toward the manor.

It stood beyond the trees.

Every window was illuminated.

"It thought it had taken you."

Mara's voice trembled.

"But you said I was the one who opened the door."

"You were."

"And then?"

"You came back."

"How?"

Luca looked away.

"Mom brought you."

Mara's heart tightened.

"Where is she?"

"Inside."

"Inside Blackwood?"

He nodded.

"She has been trying to bring you back."

"Back where?"

Luca pointed at the ground.

"To yourself."

A sound echoed through the garden.

Knock.

Mara froze.

Another.

Knock.

Luca grabbed her hand.

"Don't answer."

The third knock came from the manor.

Then a fourth.

Mara stared at the house.

Windows began opening one by one.

Behind them stood people.

Her mother.

Her grandmother.

Evelyn.

Her grandfather.

Luca.

And Mara herself.

Dozens of versions of the same people stood in the windows.

Mara's breathing became shallow.

"They're watching us."

Luca nodded.

"They've been watching you for thirteen years."

"Why?"

"Because you're the one thing they can't copy."

Mara looked at him.

"Why not?"

"Because you're already a copy."

The words struck her like a blow.

Before Mara could answer, the garden gate slammed shut.

The figures in the windows disappeared.

The house became completely dark.

Luca whispered:

"It's coming."

"What?"

"The first one."

A tall figure stepped from behind the rose bush.

It had no face.

Mara couldn't look away.

Luca moved in front of her.

"Don't look at it."

"What is it?"

"The first copy."

Mara remembered Evelyn.

"The thing that started everything."

The figure moved closer.

Its body seemed to shift.

First it became Elena.

Then Mara's grandmother.

Then Luca.

Then Mara.

Finally, it returned to its faceless form.

A voice came from it.

Thousands of voices at once.

"You opened the door."

Mara stepped backward.

"I know."

"You invited us."

"I didn't know what I was doing."

"You knew enough."

Luca shouted:

"Leave her alone!"

The figure turned toward him.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Luca's expression changed.

"What do you mean?"

"You died."

Luca shook his head.

"No."

"You died thirteen years ago."

"I remember."

The figure stepped closer.

"You are only a memory."

Luca looked at Mara.

Then at the creature.

"I know."

The figure raised one hand.

Luca disappeared.

Mara screamed.

"Luca!"

Silence.

The garden was empty.

"Luca!"

No answer.

Mara ran toward the place where he had stood.

Nothing.

Then she heard his voice from behind her.

"Mara."

She turned.

He was standing near the garden gate.

"Run."

The gate opened.

Mara ran.

She didn't stop until she reached the road.

She looked back.

The garden was gone.

Blackwood Manor stood alone in the darkness.

Then a light appeared in one window.

A woman stood behind the glass.

Elena.

Mara's mother.

She raised her hand.

In her palm was a small brass key.

Mara looked down.

The key in her pocket was gone.

Elena pointed toward the house.

Then she pointed toward Mara.

Finally, she held up two fingers.

Two.

Mara didn't understand.

Then the window went dark.

Her phone vibrated.

A message appeared.

TWO OF US ARE REAL.

Mara stared at the words.

Another message arrived.

ONE OF US IS YOUR MOTHER.

Then another.

THE OTHER IS YOU.

Mara's hands trembled.

A final message appeared.

EVERYONE ELSE IS A COPY.

Mara looked toward Blackwood Manor.

The front door opened.

A figure stood inside.

She couldn't see the face.

But she knew who it was.

Her mother.

Or something wearing her face.

Then another figure appeared beside her.

Mara.

The two figures stood together.

Watching.

Waiting.

And from deep inside the house came the sound that Mara had begun to fear more than anything.

Knocking.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Mara held her breath.

The twelfth knock never came.

Instead, someone whispered from directly behind her:

"You're counting the wrong door."

Mara slowly turned.

Her grandmother stood there.

The real one.

Her face was bruised and exhausted, but her eyes were unmistakably human.

"Mara," she whispered.

Mara ran toward her.

Her grandmother caught her.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Mara pulled away.

"Are you really my grandmother?"

The old woman looked hurt.

"Yes."

"Prove it."

Her grandmother smiled through tears.

"When you were little, you hated thunder."

Mara stared.

"Every storm made you hide under the kitchen table."

A tear rolled down Mara's cheek.

"And you used to sing to me."

Her grandmother nodded.

"The same song every time."

Mara embraced her.

For the first time in days, she felt safe.

Then her grandmother whispered:

"But we have very little time."

"Why?"

"Because your mother was wrong."

"About what?"

Her grandmother looked toward Blackwood Manor.

"There aren't two of you."

Mara's heart stopped.

"Then how many?"

Her grandmother's eyes filled with fear.

"Three."

A cold wind passed through the trees.

Mara looked at the house.

Three figures now stood in the upstairs window.

Elena.

Mara.

And another woman.

The third woman slowly lifted her face.

Mara couldn't breathe.

It was her.

Exactly her.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same scar above her eyebrow.

The woman smiled.

Then she knocked against the glass.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Her grandmother grabbed Mara's hand.

"Run."

They ran into the darkness.

Behind them, the third Mara opened the window.

And screamed one sentence into the night:

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO DIED!"

Mara kept running.

But deep inside her mind, a forgotten memory had begun to awaken.

And this time, it wasn't a memory of Blackwood.

It was a memory of her own death.

END OF CHAPTER SEVEN