Squirrels and Monkeys

Part 2: Squirrels and Monkeys

2:45am
It's raining squirrels and monkeys.

I remember my dad saying that to me when I was little. He thought it was funny. I guess at five or six years old I did too. I remember giggling, anyway. And take my word for it, that didn't happen a lot after I lost them when I was seven.

Squirrels and monkeys. That was my dad. Simple cats and dogs weren't good enough for his little girl. Everything had to be special.

It's me again: Chloe. As you might have guessed I can't sleep. That's why I am bundled up on the couch in the darkness of my condo's sunken living room, staring out the slider doors. The rain is pouring down. Squirrels and monkeys.

I was trying to read, a horror book called Night Demons by that author I told you about, the one writing Arly's cases down for him, Howard Hopkins. The book is good enough but I have a hard time focusing on it and the subject matter...well, maybe it's not the best thing for me right now. Because fiction can't come close to the real supernatural things Arly and I seem to attract.

Doesn't matter anyway because the power took a powder with the last crash of thunder a few minutes ago. So did most of my composure.

I never used to be afraid of the dark. But since Ficatier and her Sisters and my coma...the dark hides things. Parents tell their children there's nothing to be frightened by in the dark, but they're wrong. There's plenty to be scared of.

You might also guess I decided not to go over to Arly's cottage tonight. With the rain and my mood I thought I might break down if I did. I should be stronger, right? I've faced things others never dreamed existed. And in many ways I am stronger for it. In some ways...not so much.

But I have limits. Like I've said, I've been through a lot in my life and even if I am not exactly sure what those limits are, I am sure I've gotten too close to them.

A flash of lightning turns my living room into a painting of vanilla and shadow. A boom follows it three seconds later--one-thousand-one, one-thousand two, one-thousand-three--that's how my dad always taught me to count the distance and three seconds meant three miles. Not sure that's true, but it was too damn close and the crash has me launched off the couch. The Night Demons book and the throw blanket end up on the floor and I'm not about to bother feeling around in the dark for them.

I bumped my shin on the frickin' coffee table, too. That felt good. I said a word Arly probably wouldn't have liked, but sometimes I have a mouth.

I took a couple deep breaths, then reached down and grabbed my cup of decaf. It was cold now, and didn't help my nerves much. I think some of it had spilled when I hit the table, because the cup slid around when I put it back down.

The rain suddenly came down harder, pouring and roaring. Squirrels and monkeys. The thought brought no giggle this time, only more loneliness over missing my folks and Arly and helplessness over knowing what to do next.

Dammit, this wasn't me. I wasn't helpless. If not for me the Sisters of the Snake would have killed Arly at the mansion. There has to be something I can do. I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself and fearing the worst. I've taken care of myself just fine for years and coming apart now won't help.

Arms wrapped about myself, I drifted over to the slider doors. The woods beyond the condo were just a black mass behind the water streaking down the glass. But at least there were no zombies lurking on the patio this time. That was a small relief.I giggled. Maybe it was more from nerves than anything else, but I got no time to think about it because lighting glazed the dark clouds and washed across the patio.

And something jumped at the glass! I let out one of those bleats that comes reflexively when a mouse runs across your bare feet.Oh, crap, I think I might have just peed in my nightgown...