Page 4 of Forever Dead

She turned from the front door just as a creak came from the back of the house.

Eleanor stopped. The sound was low and drawn out, not the ordinary complaint of timber. It sounded like pressure against wood.

She listened. Nothing came for several seconds except the wind stirring the trees outside. Then there was another creak from the kitchen side.

Eleanor moved.

Her cane struck the floor in quick, uneven beats as she crossed the hallway and entered the kitchen. The rear windows showed only darkness, and she avoided going near them.

The drawer beside the refrigerator stuck halfway open.

“Come on.”

She tugged harder. It released with a scrape. Batteries rolled toward the front. A packet of candles shifted. Beneath an old tea towel lay the phone.

Eleanor grabbed it. The screen stayed black.

“No.”

She pressed the button on the side. Nothing. Held it down until a symbol finally appeared.

Relief weakened her grip on the drawer.

Behind her came a sharp snap.

Eleanor turned toward the narrow passage leading to the back door. The phone glowed in her palm, displaying a logo.

Starting.

Booting. That was the word Ruth used. Another obstacle to giving a damn about cell phones.

“It has to boot up.”

Eleanor had told her boots belonged on feet. Now she wanted the thing to hurry.

Another sound came from the passage, a faint creak.

Eleanor opened the cutlery drawer. The knives were beside the stove. She took the largest one, a carving knife with a wooden handle worn pale near the blade.

It felt too heavy. She had carved Christmas turkeys with it and sliced Sunday roasts. Holding it now felt ridiculous, but necessary.

The phone changed screens.

Almost ready.

Cold air touched Eleanor’s cheek.

She stopped. The heating was on. Every window had been closed since sunset, yet another thread of cold air moved through the kitchen.

Eleanor turned toward the passage. The light there was off. Darkness beyond the doorway hid the back door.

She raised the knife. “Who’s there?”

Nothing.

Eleanor took one step forward, then another. Her cane remained beside the drawer. She could not manage it with the knife and phone, so she moved without it, every step sending pain through her knee.

At the kitchen doorway, she leaned into the passage.