Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Nigel barely had time to register that the salt wasn’t working, before all hell broke loose.
The rotting comforter flew off the bed, wrapping itself around him in an unwelcome hug. Heavy scraping noises sounded around him, furniture being violently shoved across the room. Chris cried out in pain.
He struggled to free himself from the down comforter, but it seemed to come alive, trapping his arms against his sides, constricting his legs, and pressing against his face. He struggled to breathe, suffocated by the scent of mold and dust, until the air was cut off altogether.
Panic seized him, and he thrashed madly. He fell against something, but the pain barely registered. He rolled across the floor, trying to unwrap himself, but the comforter clung like a living thing.
His senses swam. Someone shouted his name, but they sounded as though they were underwater.
He’d shut his eyes automatically when the comforter hit his face, and bright spots of light bloomed behind his eyes, before dimming.
His lungs screamed for air, but there was none to be had, and he was going to die here, like this—
Something sliced his cheek—then the cloth parted and he gasped for air. A blizzard of antique feathers came along with the air, and now his body was caught between expelling them from his throat, and simultaneously trying to suck in more oxygen.
Cloth ripped, then ripped again, and he could move his arms and legs. He tried to roll over onto his front to cough, but strong arms pulled him up off the floor. A shoulder dug into his stomach, and he found himself hanging over Oscar’s back in a fireman’s carry.
Oscar ran for the door, then down the hall to the stairs. His feet thudded on the risers, and they emerged into the downstairs hallway.
“Out of the house!” Oscar yelled. “Tina, get out!”
Another fit of coughing wracked Nigel, so all-consuming he could take in nothing else until Oscar lowered him to the sand. “Nigel? Nigel!”
“He’s making noise, so he must be able to breathe,” Chris said from somewhere nearby.
Nigel closed his eyes and concentrated on his lungs. Someone pressed a water bottle into his hand, and he upended it, washing away the feathers stuck to the inside of his throat. After what seemed forever, the coughs subsided, and he spat out the last feather.
His eyes and nose were streaming—he must look a mess. He tried to wipe away the snot and tears with his hand, but Oscar pushed it away. “You’ll get sand in your eyes,” he said, before pulling off his t-shirt and gently using it to clean off Nigel’s face.
Nigel let him. “What—what happened? The salt didn’t work—how is that possible?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart.”
Tina crouched down by them, her skirts puddling around her. “That’s why you told me to get out of the house. Because the salt line wouldn’t keep her away from the dining room.”
“Yeah.” Oscar pressed his shirt against the side of Nigel’s face. “Shit, I cut you.”
“What happened?” Nigel asked again.
“Gloria attacked us. She hit Chris with some furniture, threw the PolterPal at me, and tried to suffocate you with the comforter.” Oscar’s voice shook on the last, and he swallowed hard.
“I couldn’t pull it away, so I grabbed my pocketknife and cut a slit so you could breathe.
But I was panicking, and I got your cheek. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Nigel put his arms around Oscar, who hugged him back. “You saved my life.”
“Once the initial cut was there, Oscar was able to rip the comforter apart,” Chris said. They plopped down on the sand, looking badly shaken. “Shit, that was scary.”
“Are you okay?” Oscar asked them.
“Just bruised, I think.” Chris rubbed their left hip. “She shoved a dresser into me, but not hard enough to do real damage, thankfully.”
“Let’s see that cut,” Tina said. Nigel obediently sat back, though he and Oscar kept an arm apiece around each other.
She shone a flashlight on his face, which made Nigel realize he’d lost his head light and camera to the comforter.
“I don’t think it needs stiches, at least. The first aid kit is back in the house, but I’m sure there’s one in the trailer. You stay here.”