Free Scareforce by Charles Hough Page B

reminded that the house belongs to the government. You are only borrowing it for a while. And you better take
     real good care of the government’s building.
    The morning sun burns away the shadows and some of the strangeness goes with it. You meet your sponsor, a nice guy who was
     in the same boat as you a couple of months ago. He can still remember and understand the disorientation caused by moving.
     He goes out of his way to show you around and point out the nice things about the new base.
    It’s all still too new to be home. Everything still suffers by comparison but some of that is starting to fade. When you get
     to the house your good fortune goes a long way toward setting things to rights.
    The house is beautiful even if it is Air Force. It’s more than you expected. Usually the houses on a base tend to be duplexes,
     and triplexes and even quadruplexes, all the same and all pushed together. You have lived in the worst and always seemed to
     be able to make the best of it. Neighbors help, probably because of shared adversity.
    But now, here is a separate, one-family building that looks amazingly like a normal house. How did you get so lucky? How indeed?
    In the days that followed, you and your family stay busy with the thousands of things that need to be done to get a new household
     started. The moving company is called to deliver the furniture. The furniture that fit so well in the last home refuses to
     go into this one. Everything must be moved around and changed and experimented with until the angle looks just right, or at
     least all right for now.
    You have to get used to work. Your family has work to do also. They have to find the grocery store and the best way to get
     to the Exchange. They have to track down stores and schools and banks and telephone offices and gas stations. But during all
     the running around and searching and hunting, the process of turning this house into a home is taking place.
    After the second week the house is starting to become your home. A neighbor stops by to welcome you and your wife.
    “See by your license that you were stationed at Base X. We were too. Seems like a thousand years ago. This place is just as
     good. Better, in some ways.”
    Then, in what seems like a more cautious tone, “How do you like the house?” It doesn’t seem to be just a polite question.
     She is very interested in the answer.
    Your wife, somewhat bewildered by the way the question is asked, nevertheless can’t help but exclaim about the wonderful house
     and your good fortune in getting it.
    “Yeah, well, I hope you stay longer than the last bunch. They decided real sudden to move downtown.”
    “Why? Is there something wrong with this house?” She is curious about the attitude of her new neighbor.
    “No, no, nothing wrong. Nothing that I know of. Wish we had a single.”
    There is something a little too emphatic in the neighbor’s denial but your wife decides to let it pass.
    In the days and nights to come she thinks back to this conversation.
    Things start slowly. It seems that the shock of moving has infected every member of the Simms family with a case of forgetfulness.
     Everyone starts to lose things. Nothing big, just irritating. If Mrs. Simms is sure the car keys are on the desk, they aren’t
     found until she looks on the bedroom dresser. And if you are sure that you left the checkbook in your coat, it turns up in
     the kitchen cabinet. Even your little girl, Sherry, complains that her dolls are playing hide-and-seek when she wants to play
     school.
    It doesn’t seem anything but annoying until things start to turn up in the most unlikely places. What had prompted you to
     leave your ring in the flour canister? And why did Mrs. Simms ever put her silver napkin holder out in the garage in the lawn
     mower basket? It is as if some little imp is pressing the limits of possibility to see how far he can go before someone gets
     suspicious.
    When your wife finds the dog staring