Happy New Year! I splurged for Christmas and bought the Sam and Michael funko pop figures, and they are so stinkin' cute! Best wishes for 2019, and best of luck to Michael and Sammy to try and make it to sunrise.
A very special thanks for every comment, for every follow, and for every favorite. It's all for you! -Crimsonsky132
Chapter 5
"Samantha, give me a hand why don't ya?" Grandpa called from across the room. Sammy had been curled up on the couch, trying to remember her dream, but throughout the day she could recall less and less. The only things she could remember were those piercing eyes and her hero, and they scared the life out of her. Blinking out of her daze, she turned towards him.
"If I say yes, will you change your mind about taking me to town?" She quipped, and Gramps snorted, shaking his head. Grandpa had shown Sammy his hot-rod earlier on that morning, telling stories of the good old days. He almost fell out of the bench seat when she asked if she could get behind the wheel. "I told you kiddo, this is as close to town as I like to get."
"I know, I know." She rolled her eyes and stretched out, climbing out of the couch cushions. Moving towards the kitchen, she found him rummaging around in the cabinets. "What are you looking for?"
"Hey Sammy, you're a lady, right?." He asked, still busy looking through the silverware drawer. "Do you think we've got anything around here that could pass for aftershave?" Before she could come up with an answer, Grandpa scurried over to the sink and grabbed the bottle of windex from the counter. Turning, Sam nodded her approval with a lopsided grin.
Gramps had a date. He had been cooing about it all afternoon, and Sam thought about two old-timers finding similar interests in taxidermy and root beer.
"What'd you stuff for her? Mr. Johnson?" She jumped, turning to see Mike in the doorway. Sammy didn't even hear him come down. He wore a sloppy smirk, and Grandpa's mood changed in an instant.
"Well, I'll see you too later. Sandwiches are for dinner; I left everything out on the counter." He offered one fleeting look at Mike, before turning towards the door.
'That wasn't cool, Mike." Sammy grumbled, watching the doorway as Gramps left. "Did you have a wild night? Are you freebasing? Inquiring minds want to know." She asked, giving Michael a double take. He hadn't switched his clothes from yesterday, and he was wearing sunglasses...in the house. And was that an earring?
"Something like that." He murmured, making his way over to the fridge. Opening it, she noticed his distaste as he turned up his nose and slammed the door shut.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Sam inquired, suddenly incredibly focused on her sandwich making skills. He looked down and rubbed his eyes. "I mean, I'd ditch the earring. It's not you; it's definitely not you." He felt his ear, a look of surprise flashing across his features.
"To be honest, I don't remember a lot of it -"
In a flash their conversation was silenced by the sound of motorcycles revving. She could have sworn she heard voices out there! The blinds were banging against the windows, and the pots and pans swung from their rack overhead. Whoever was out there, they were laughing like wild animals, and Sammy backed up, clutching to the counter.
Sammy.
She spun around, clutching her chest. Her eyes scanned the room in a hurry. Someone was there! Sam heard hoots and hollers all around her house, and they must have been outnumbered. She saw Mike grab the knife she had been using for her sandwich, and hunched forward through the doorway to the living room.
"Mike, don't." She warned, chasing after him.
He didn't listen. He couldn't hear her! Michael was creeping towards the door, the knife in hand.
Sammy.
Was she going crazy?!
"Don't open the door! Mike!" Sam couldn't take in enough air, and her head was spinning as Mike reached for the handle. Suddenly there was silence.
The lights were gone. The motorcycles were gone.
"Mike, who was that?" Sammy yelled, hiding behind one of the chairs. She tripped, backing away from Mike as he came closer. Leaning down, he crouched next to her, handing his knife to her. "What's going on, Mike?" She was terrified.
"Go to your room, and lock the door." Mike spoke grimly, and he looked her square on. He was sweating, his hands were clammy.
"Mike, what did you do?" She whispered, hardly comprehending what he was asking her to do.
"Go. Now." He said, and it was final.
__________
Sam sat on her bed, clutching to the knife. Never had she been so scared, and she didn't know what was out there, or who was out there. It must have been some terrible trick! There's no way that there were motorcycles surrounding her house. The drive way was a straight line, and the garage was further down the property. What if someone was in the house? What if they never left? The next thing she heard was a muffled yell, a call for help. Sammy jumped up, frigid with fear.
She crept towards the door, knife in hand, and tried to quiet her breathing. Sam wasn't prepared if she had to use the knife! She stepped out of her shoes to stay as quiet as possible, and opened her door as carefully as she could. Sam had no idea what she would see outside her door.
"Mike?" She whispered.
There was nothing out of the ordinary, but Sammy was jumping at her own shadow. Creeping down the stairs, she burst into a sprint when she saw Mike doubled over in front of the fridge, milk spilled everywhere. He was a mess.
"Mike, are you okay? What happened?!"
"I don't feel so well, Sammy."
"Let me help you. We have to get this cleaned up." Sammy reached for his hand to pull him up, and after a moment of hesitation, he accepted the help. He was sweating, his breath was erratic. "Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?"
He shook his head, squinting his eyes shut.
"No. There's no one here, Sammy." He confirmed, looking back to her.
Was he insane? Did Grandpa also give him a joint? Sam led him out to the living room, hoping he would sit back and rest. On the contrary, he was having trouble standing, and he doubled over in pain in the middle of the walkway.
"Man, maybe we should take you to the hospital."
"Hey, piss off." He shot back, pulling out of her grip. Stumbling back, Sammy didn't know what to do. She didn't expect the outburst, and watched as he tried to balance himself. Something was wrong. Running a hand through her hair she suppressed a groan of frustration, and moved towards the stairs. She was going to tell him to lay off the attitude and stop scaring the shit out of her, but she lost her train of thought as she looked at him again.
"Mike, look at your reflection in the mirror."
They both froze, and stared at the mirror in disbelief. He looked like a ghost. She waved her hand, clearly behind him, but she could see her hand right through him. She grabbed his arm and he was still there. He wasn't a ghost; he was right there in front of her! What was happening? He looked just as scared as she did, but she backed away.
"Sammy, wait,-"
"No, there is no way. Mike, you're like a monster out of a comic book." She swallowed hard, watching him in the mirror. She could see right through him! Stumbling back, she was aghast.
"Get away from me!"
"Sam, just wait a minute. Sammy!" He called after her, but she ran back up the stairs to her room, locking herself in. Precariously perched on her dresser, Sam's eye was caught on the comic book the Frog Brothers had given to her. Fat chance. She scoffed, stuffing the comic in her dresser and out of sight.
"What's wrong with him?" She whispered to herself. Sammy paced her room, trying to remember symptoms of the flu, or polio, or chicken pox, or anything that would make sense! Nothing struck a chord with her. How was he invisible?
RINGGGGGGG
Sammy nearly jumped out of her skin, and ran to her bedside table.
RINGGGGGGG
"Hello?" She answered shakily.
"Oh sweetheart, it's Mom. I just wanted to call and check in. Did Mike make you dinner? Did he sleep all day? My dinner with Max is so much better than I could have ever hoped for!" She cooed.
"Oh that's great mom, great." Sam started, disinterested. "Mom, I think we'll need to have a real long talk about something."
"Is everything okay?" Lucy cut in, and she could tell her mom was starting to get worried.
"We'll it's about Michael-"
"Don't listen to her mom, she doesn't know what she's saying. Sam doesn't know what she's saying." She heard a thump against her window and turned, her mouth agape. Michael was outside her window! He was flying?! He was flailing his arms, grabbing on to the window sill with all his might. He was trying to get in!
"Mom, help!"
"Oh my god!" She heard Lucy yelp.
"Shut up, Sam." Mike bellowed, and he tried to pry open the glass.
"I'm coming! Tell her I'm coming!" Sammy heard her mom, and then she dropped the phone.
"Stay back Mike! Go back to your own window!"
"As if I could! I don't know how to work this thing! I'm your brother Sammy, help me. Sam, please. Open the window. Please!" He was losing his grip, and she was losing her nerve. She wouldn't just let him float away, and with a hard swallow she reached for the latch. Sammy pulled Michael in through the window with all of her strength, and they collapsed on the ground. There's no way this was happening. There was no way. It had to be a dream.
"Thanks Sammy." Mike was out of breath and pulled her in for a hug. He was absolutely terrified. What has happening to him?
"Are you okay?" They both knew the answer to that.
"I'll figure this out, I'll figure this out Sammy." He was so scared. Sammy had never seen him so disheveled.
"There's no way this is really happening. It makes no sense!"
"It make no sense. I'll work this out, Sam."
"Well, what about Mom? She'll freak -"
"Don't. Don't tell her anything." He interrupted. I'll work this out, Sam." He pulled her close, almost as if he were trying to keep himself planted on the ground. "I'll work this out. I'll work this out. Trust me, Sammy."
"Okay." Sammy whispered, but she didn't know what to do. She watched him stand up and saunter back into his room, and stayed planted in her spot as she heard him rummaging around. "What are you going to do?" She called out.
"I...I don't know." She heard him heard him hesitate, before watching him slip out of view. She heard him jump down the stairs and head outside, and in the distance she heard his bike start up. He better have a good plan.
What was she going to do? She was just a kid, and so was Mike. Sammy locked all the windows and all the doors, as if it would stop any monsters from breaking in. She needed to get a grip. He was floating. He was invisible. This isn't normal!
Monsters. She thought. Who could stop a monster?
Sammy ran upstairs, fumbling through her bedside dresser. Bingo. Clutching the comic close, she turned it over to see the scribbled number on the back and looked at the clock. It was just about 9:00 at night. She dialed quickly, waiting anxiously.
"Santa Carla Comics, the best comics in Santa Carla." She heard the guff voice answer.
"E-Edgar? It's Sam. I need your help."