by B J Bourg
“I’m clear, too,” Weaver said.
Melvin frowned and called out that he was clear, as well. He trudged into the empty living room and met with the others. “Did y’all try any of the light switches?” he asked.
They all nodded in unison.
“Nothing worked on my end,” Dawn said, “and there were bulbs in all of the fixtures.”
Susan and Weaver each said their light switches didn’t work either.
Melvin stood puzzled, wondering what was drawing the electricity. Without saying a word, he walked out the back door and around to the corner of the house where the power meter was located. He didn’t look back, but he knew the others were following him. When he reached the meter, he pointed. “Look, it’s still moving.”
They all gathered around and stared blankly at the revolving disk. It wasn’t moving very fast, which meant it couldn’t be supplying electricity to any major appliances. But what was it powering?
Melvin stepped away from the house and glanced slowly to the left and then the right. He walked to the front yard and visually examined the windows and the only door on that side of the house. Like the rest of the house, everything was boarded up tight, as though the previous homeowners thought a hurricane was approaching before they abandoned the property.
“What happened to the residents in this neighborhood?” Melvin asked idly as he strolled along the front of the house.
“The flood map was restructured several years ago and, with the stroke of a pen, this neighborhood suddenly found itself in a flood zone,” Dawn explained as she picked up her phone and began dialing a number. “Their flood insurances skyrocketed. For many of these families, the cost was too high and they couldn’t afford the premiums, so they put their houses up for sale. Unfortunately, when prospective buyers learned about the cost of the flood insurance for this zone, they lost interest and the majority of the homes were repossessed by the banks.”
Melvin reached the opposite side of the house and stopped, glancing up. He stared at it for a long minute before realizing he was staring at a vent. “The attic!” he exclaimed suddenly. “We didn’t check the—”
Susan didn’t wait for Melvin to finish. She turned and raced for the front of the house immediately, not even waiting to see if anyone else was following. Although she had been doing a great job of keeping her emotions in check, Melvin recognized the worry lines on her face and the urgency in her movements. She was running like an Olympic sprinter, the leather of her gun belt squeaking as her legs and arms pumped. Melvin was right behind her, but she was starting to leave him behind.
“Where’s the attic door?” Susan called over her shoulder when she shoved her way through the front door.
“In the hallway toward the front,” Weaver hollered.
Melvin could almost feel Dawn’s breath on his neck, she was running that fast. They all forced their way through the door and were soon crowding into the hallway where the attic door was located. Susan had already snatched the rope from the air and pulled the wooden ladder down. The springs screamed in protest, and Melvin instinctively drew his pistol in case the suspect was up there waiting on them.
“I’m going up,” Susan said, her breath coming in desperate gasps. She shoved a mini-flashlight in her mouth and headed for the ominous opening above them.
Melvin could feel his own heart thumping in his chest. He grabbed the sides of the ladder and held it tight while Susan pumped her legs and ascended the rungs like a spider on speed. The flimsy ladder shook violently under her weight. Once her head disappeared above the ceiling, Melvin started up after her. He held his breath as he went up the ladder, almost expecting to hear a gunshot or a verbal challenge from Susan or the sounds of a fight. But he heard none of it.
When his own head cleared the ceiling, Melvin took a quick glance around the attic and sighed heavily. It was empty. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling joists, and it was clear no one had been up here in many years.
Susan’s shoulders slumped and she grabbed onto a nearby board to steady herself. “Where in God’s name are you, Clint?” she asked wearily, almost desperately. “Where are you?”
CHAPTER 48
Rhett Trolley’s voice fell like a bowling ball to the concrete floor. He was going to eat Gloria and me. I glanced in the poor girl’s direction. She was weeping silently, her body trembling with fear. I clenched my fists and felt my wrists tighten under the straps that held them. This was not how I’d envisioned going out. When I considered dying of late, I imagined I’d die of old age while sitting on a rocking chair watching Grace’s kids’ kids running around in the yard. I knew that would be the lucky way out.
Of all the dangers I’d faced in my life, and all the close calls I’d had, never once had I considered being eaten to death. It angered me to think this was how I would end up. I gritted my teeth, forced a laugh.
“Eat us?” I asked, continuing to laugh on the outside, while my brain scrambled on the inside. I now understood the hungry look in his eyes from earlier. While he had been staring down at my nude body, he was actually seeing a meat stew or hamburger or steak in his mind’s eye. “You’ve got to be crazy or joking. You’re not really going to eat us.”
Trolley’s large jaw was set. He licked his dried lips, cleared his throat. “No, I’m not crazy and this isn’t a joke.”
I allowed the laughter to fade, tried to think of how best to approach this man. Things were starting to make sense to me now and I thought I might be able to use the information I’d gathered to talk him out of killing Gloria—maybe trade myself for her.
“Is this about what happened in the Rocky Mountains?” I asked slowly, watching as his expression changed to one of utter grief. Or was it regret? “I know you were out there alone with your family. I know they died off one at a time. I know you’re the only one who survived, and I know how you were able to do that.”
“You don’t know shit!” Fire flashed in his eyes.
“They’re all gone,” I said, repeating the words from his interview. “Eaten by wolves. They were eaten by a pack of wild wolves. Can you believe that shit? It…it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t get the images out of my mind. Every time I close my eyes…”
“Where’d you hear that?” he asked suspiciously.
“You were the wolf, weren’t you?” I asked, ignoring his question. “You ate them one by one, didn’t you? A wolf feasting on raw flesh.”
He only glared at me. Although he didn’t say a word, his eyes said it all. He had eaten his entire family out there on that mountain. He must’ve buried what he hadn’t eaten, because the search parties never found their remains. Of course, a team of experienced rescuers could search for years and never find a body in the insanely expansive Rocky Mountains.
“My question is this—did you wait for them to die, or did you murder them so you could survive?”
The flash of anger returned to his eyes. “I would never hurt my family—never!”
“I know.” I nodded and frowned. “That’s why it upset you so much to have to do what you did. But you did it to survive. You wouldn’t be here to tell their story—to keep their memory alive—if you hadn’t eaten them to save yourself.” I paused and studied his face for a moment. He didn’t seem as terrifying as earlier. He now looked like a young boy who was about to cry because he had been fussed at for doing something wrong. I shifted on the cold table and continued. “You said your mom was taken first. Did…did you prepare her for your father and sister? Did you feed her to them, as well?”
His face fell in a deep frown, but he didn’t say a word. I could see he was suffering greatly on the inside. I couldn’t imagine the turmoil he was undergoing.
“Go ahead and let it out,” I said soothingly from my helpless place on the table. “You’ve had to keep this in for so long. It’s time for you to let it all out. Release the pain. Get it off your chest.”
Trolley glanced over his shoulder at Gloria who was still weeping silently, and then shifted his feet.
He hesitated, like a kid who had decided to go cliff-jumping but had suddenly developed a case of cold feet when he reached the top.
“You can trust us,” I coaxed. “After all, who are we going to tell? We’re not going anywhere unless you say so.”
There was another long pause and I thought he was going to go back to carving up Gloria, but then he let out a long sigh. It was a heavy sigh. Something I’d expect to hear from a bear, not a human.
“They were so weak, you see? We all were weak, but they were near dead. I was strong enough to move around and get fire wood to keep us somewhat warm, but they spent most of their time sleeping. They needed nourishment.” He wiped a rivulet of sweat from his thick brow. A box fan was blowing on us from the corner of the room, but it didn’t seem to do much for him. “My mom passed away on the second day of June. She died during the night. I was awake when she gave her last breath. I didn’t know what to do. We hadn’t seen a single animal since we got there, and I knew it was a hopeless situation. Without food, we would all die. So, I dragged her body through the trees until I found a spot where I could work.”
Trolley took a laboring breath before continuing. “I had to pretend she was a side of beef, but even then, I didn’t know what I was doing. I…I took what I thought would be good pieces and then brought them back to the camp. My dad and sister were still sleeping when I returned, but they woke up when they smelled the food cooking.”
I grimaced involuntarily when he said the word “food.” He noticed and stopped talking.
“I’m sorry,” I said hurriedly. “I just can’t imagine the pain you must’ve been going through.”
“I’m not going to lie to you—my mom was the best-tasting food I’d ever eaten, but the portions I’d brought with me weren’t enough to keep us alive. I—we—needed more, so I went back to where I’d hidden her body.” He shook his head. “The rest of her was gone—devoured by a pack of wolves. I followed the trail of blood and body parts, thinking I might be able to kill one of them, but then I started getting weak and had to head back to camp.”
“Look, Rhett,” I said when he paused. “You did what you had to do to survive—nothing more. And no one can blame you for it.”
“I blame me for it.” He took a quivering breath. “My dad passed away seven days later, and I did the same with him. While my sister was sleeping, I dragged him away. This time, I took more meat, but it still wasn’t enough to feed us for more than a couple of days. But it didn’t matter, really. We could’ve had a fully stocked McDonald’s on the mountain and it still wouldn’t have been enough. My sister’s body rejected most of the food she ate. She was too far gone and she died five days later.
“I often feel like she gave up the ghost in order to keep me alive. She paid the ultimate sacrifice so that I might live.” He was staring absently at the concrete wall to my left. It seemed as though he’d forgotten Gloria and I were even in the room with him, but only for a moment. He blinked several times and then sighed heavily, turning to walk back to Gloria’s table.
“I understand why you chose this time of year,” I said quickly in order to divert his attention from the girl, “but I don’t understand why you chose to kidnap people and eat them. You ate your family for survival, but why are you doing this to innocent people? Is it some sort of tribute to the memory of your loved ones? I don’t get it.”
Trolley was thoughtful for a long moment. He studied me as he pondered the question. I got the feeling he wanted to provide an answer, but he wanted it to be a good one.
“When I was a kid, my dad would take us to the Smoky Mountains every year around the same time—usually the Fourth of July.” There was a dreamy look in his eyes. “We must’ve gone five or six years in a row. And then we didn’t go one year because he couldn’t take the time off of work. I swear, as I sat around the house, I got this intense desire inside me to be in the Smoky Mountains. There was a certain scent in the air and I swear I could smell it here in Louisiana. I felt depressed because I couldn’t be there. I wanted it more than anything else in the world. It was as though the mountains were calling me.”
“What’s this got to do with attacking innocent people?” I asked.
“I get that same kind of craving during this time of the year, but it’s for human flesh.” His eyes squinted. There was an evil expression on his face. “I know you’re judging me and I don’t expect you to understand, but once you’ve tasted it, it’s all you want. It brings out the wild beast inside of you. It’s the strongest craving I’ve ever felt. I…I had help controlling it for a long time, but then…”
His voice trailed off and I saw real sadness in his eyes.
“And then your therapist, Sylvia Lagarde, went and died on you,” I said slowly. “Is that why you started kidnapping people again?”
“You know,” he said with a far-off look in his eyes, “on the dates my mom, dad, and sister died, a demon comes alive inside of me and the only thing that can bring it under control is the taste of human flesh. Miss Sylvia, she knew how to put it in check. She had this way of saying the right thing to quiet the demon, but then she passed away and I…I didn’t know what I was going to do. By the time the end of May came rolling around, I could feel the urges coming back—that hunger. There’s something in the air around this time of year that awakens a beast in my soul.”
He suddenly leaned his head back and howled into the air. It was a low, mournful howl that caused a violent chill to reverberate up and down my spine. His voice grew stronger as he wailed, and I half expected the dim light bulbs in the place to explode.
This crazy animal’s going to eat me alive, I thought wryly to myself, and I’m the one who’s supposed to be the Wolf.
When his dreadful howl had faded to an eerie echo in the dank enclosure, I quickly asked another question to bring his attention back to our conversation. I didn’t want to lose him, because I knew what would happen next—he would go right back to prepping Gloria for dinner.
“Why’d you pick the swamps to search for victims? Why not just stick to the city?”
“I came looking for you.”
CHAPTER 49
I stared for a long moment at Rhett Trolley, our eyes locked in a silent showdown.
“Why me?” I finally managed to ask. “What did I do?”
Rhett grabbed the upper edge of his collar and pulled it down to reveal a jagged scar across the lower portion of his neck. “You did this.”
I glanced down at his right foot, which was wrapped in a bandage. Blood had soaked through to the outer edges of the fabric. I indicated the wound with my head. “I shot you in the foot, but I didn’t do that to your neck.”
“It was years ago, while I was swimming the river in La Mort.”
I almost told him I wasn’t the one who shot him, but it was a moot point so I decided to ask about my old friend instead.
“What did you do with him?” I already knew the answer, but I was afraid to hear it spoken out loud. “Detective Sergeant Chad Robinson—the one whose pendant you wore around your neck for years until you lost it in my jurisdiction—what’d you do with him? How’d it end for him?”
“One of your bullets got him, so what was I to do then? I surely wasn’t going to waste good meat.”
My feelings were mixed. I wanted to curse Weaver for shooting Robinson, but then I figured that might have been the easiest way out for the old detective. I was about to ask my next question, but he continued.
“You know, he was the best tasting meat I’ve ever eaten. I could tell he had a good diet.” He cocked his head casually to the side. “I was surprised, though, that he didn’t taste like pork.”
I felt my blood boiling, but I tried to remain calm. “After all of these years, how’d you know where to find me?”
“There was an article in the La Mort Times about some detective from here who was killed in your town. When they said your name”—he nodded knowingly—“I knew it was you. It’s hard to forget a name like Wolf. Hey, by
the way, did you hear the man committed suicide?”
“Huh?” That got my attention. “Who committed suicide?”
“That Duval fellow—the dad of that woman detective—he committed suicide about a week ago.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t big news, so I guess it didn’t make it to your little town.”
I was shocked, but I had bigger things on my mind at the moment. “What about the girl you took from the tent?” I asked. “She was a sweet kid. Her name was Kaitlin Shelton. She had a father, a mother, and a brother who cared deeply for her. She had a future, and a boyfriend named—”
“Ah, the girl from the tent…she was delicious.” He licked his thick and cracked lips and, right at that moment, I wished I could come off the table and kick his teeth down his throat. I was disgusted and disturbed to my core. I had never come face to face with a cannibal, and—worse yet—I had never dreamed I’d be eaten by one.
Although my chances of coming out of this alive seemed bleak and I knew I could do nothing with the information I was getting, I couldn’t escape the desire to know more, to understand what had happened and why it had happened. I guess it was the detective’s curiosity in me, but I had him talking and I wanted to keep him talking. At least it might delay the inevitable.
“How did you get from the swamps to here?” I asked. “I know you didn’t swim or walk.”
“I could if I wanted to. I’m a damn good swimmer, as you might already know.” There was a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “But I did need to get out of your little town in a hurry, so I used my flatboat and my truck to return here.”
“Where is here?” I asked, glancing around.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He started to turn back toward Gloria.
“But…but what do you do with the remains?” I asked quickly. “I know you eat the meat from the bodies you take, but what about the parts you don’t eat?”
He sighed impatiently. “I bury them deep in the swamps, where no one will ever look.”