His father-in-law attempted another slap, but Joshua caught the old man’s hand. Applying pressure, Joshua bent the man’s hand back until he heard something snap.
Good.
But it was like his father-in-law didn’t even feel it. No outward show of pain or suffering other than the fact that his arm hung limp at his side. Nothing else to indicate that there was anything human about him at all.
“The rest were like you, you know,” George continued, his tone as implacable as unyielding as the Sahara. As ice cold as the Antarctic. “No strength to them. Nothing to offer anyone.”
“They were innocent,” Joshua raged, gritting his teeth. “They had done nothing.”
“No one is ever innocent. No one.”
“They were your family!”
“You want family?” the man sneered, his old and weathered face pulling into a hideous mask. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
George’s hand that wasn’t holding the knife whipped up from below the level of the table that had hidden it from Joshua’s view. And somehow, impossibly, in the old man’s grip was a hammer. Joshua had broken that hand. How was George doing this?
“Your family’s all right here, Joshy-boy,” his father-in-law gritted, striking out with the instrument. “Right here in this house.”
Joshua tried to evade the blow, but ran into the corner of the counter. The tool struck him in the side, right where the knife had entered. The agony was excruciating, and Joshua felt himself slip down toward the floor, his knees buckling underneath him.
“Having a hard time?” the old man mocked.
Scrabbling against the counter, Joshua tried to stay upright. The floor equaled death. But the blood had dripped down Joshua’s arm, coating his fingers, making his hand slippery. His forearm burned, a pale echo of the deeper knife cut. How could he manage to evade his father-in-law’s blade?
Then, just as Joshua was sure the blow would fall, Bella was in front of him. She snarled and snapped at George, keeping him at bay for the precious seconds Joshua needed to stand back upright.
But once he had recovered, Joshua realized that his precious companion was in danger. The old man wouldn’t hesitate to slit her throat.
So Joshua did what he had to do.
He threw himself at his father-in-law, roaring his rage in the old man’s face, doing all that he could to distract the man from the snapping dog at his feet. George was pushed back against the opposite wall, and for a moment, it seemed that Joshua’s gambit had paid off.
But a band of molten lava sliced its way across Joshua’s back as the old man slashed at him. The blade didn’t dig as deep as the first cut, but the pain somehow managed to block out all else as Joshua fought to keep from blacking out.
A knee caught him in the side, once, twice, three times. And then Joshua was shoved back across the room, the walls tilting around him like some carnival funhouse filled with nothing but nightmares.
“You’re weak, Joshua,” his father-in-law sneered. “Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak…”
Joshua scanned the kitchen, looking for anything within reach. Searching behind him, he managed to grab the large metal can opener that sat atop the counter.
He yanked, pulling the heavy device out of its electrical socket, then threw it at George’s head. The old man began to duck, but the hard metal box still struck him on the side of his face with enough force that it appeared to shatter his cheekbone.
George shook his head, then closed in on Joshua, punching at his side over and over again. All Joshua could see was the death-like grin pasted on the man’s leathery face, mocking his pain.
There was a growl, and Bella leapt up and snagged the bastard’s arm in between her teeth, keeping him from punching her master. George snarled his rage at the Boxador, trying to dislodge her.
With the old man distracted, Joshua reaching behind him, looking for something. Anything. He felt his fingers close around the grip of something he had seen when he came into the room. Was it minutes ago? It felt like hours.
The industrial-grade jigsaw handle felt right in his hand. He flipped the on switch and jammed the blade directly into the crease where George’s arm met the shoulder.
The man screamed, but Joshua didn’t back down. He grabbed the old man’s hand with his injured arm, and pulled back against the pressure he was exerting on the saw.
The blade shrieked as it passed through skin, then muscle, then bone. Blood splattered everywhere as Joshua leaned all his weight into the tool.
And the entire time, Bella sat by his side, not moving a muscle. Her unprotesting presence there was all the permission Joshua needed.
There was a sudden give, and then he held the old man’s arm in his hand. Blood sprayed out from the severed artery in George’s shoulder, a red and pulsing fountain.
The bastard would be dead soon.
Joshua turned and threw the arm across the room, blood streaming from the severed end as it tumbled over and over until it landed next to the deep freezer in the corner. The deep freezer that had more than likely held the cut-up pieces of Humpty’s victims over the years.
George’s victims.
Turning back to watch the life drain from his father-in-law, Joshua was clubbed in the side of the head. It hurt, but the strike had not been all that strong.
The old man stood, blood pumping from his shoulder, his face pale and streaked with blood. He had managed to pick up a plank of wood, and had used that as a club.
“You will not leave me to bleed out,” he raged.
Joshua staggered back toward him, shaking his head. His back throbbed with pain, his forearm ached and his side was ablaze with agony. The wetness he felt there spoke of heavy bleeding. But he had enough strength in him for what needed to be done.
“You are right,” Joshua agreed “I will not leave you like this.”
Something sparked in his father-in-law’s eyes. It was an expression akin to gratitude. But that changed to horror with Joshua’s next statement.
“Your victims lost all their limbs.”
Turning the jigsaw back on, Joshua went to complete his work. The sounds of the saw cutting through the old man’s flesh and bone almost drowned out Humpty’s voice as he began to sing.
Jack and Jill went up a hill…
Joshua didn’t stop until there was nothing left to cut.
EPILOGUE
It hadn’t taken Sariah that long to figure out where Joshua was headed once they’d crossed the border into Virginia. One of the first things Sariah had done after she’d brought Joshua onto her team had been to track down any surviving relatives.
She knew who the old man was. There had even been a few unguarded moments in which she’d seen the cards that the utter filth of a human being had sent to Joshua.
Of course, she had never thought that he could be Humpty Dumpty.
When Sariah and the rest of the team arrived at the scene, it was to the sight of a bloody Joshua staggering out of a modest old-fashioned house. He looked like something out of a horror film.
Reggie cried out, scrambling out of the Humvee and rushing toward him, and for a moment, Sariah felt a pang of jealousy course through her. But even as Reggie went to Joshua’s side to help him, she turned back to meet Sariah’s gaze.
And smiled at her.
It was a weak smile, tempered by Joshua’s condition, but it was just for her. She could feel its warmth wash over her.
So the jealously drifted away, and Sariah was able to focus on the aftermath of what had happened in the home of Humpty Dumpty. As she stepped inside the house, she realized that was a good thing, as the aftermath was a complete and utter mess.
It would take forensics a week to figure out what had happened in here. She waved the rest of the team away, not wanting them to be subjected to the sight of what was in there.
Turning her attention to Joshua, she noted the presence of Bella at his side. The Boxador was acting strangely, whining and tugging at Joshua’s side. But
the former agent hardly seemed in a condition to do much more than just stay upright.
There was a deep red stain on Joshua’s side that spoke of a serious wound. When Sariah tried to take a look, Joshua pushed her hand away.
“It’s fine for now,” he said. “The bleeding’s slowed.”
She nodded, stepping back, giving the man the space he so clearly wanted from her. The battle was over. Humpty was now gone.
But it would take Joshua a long time to heal.
As she stepped back, Leslie Sands stepped in, her soothing voice talking Joshua through some kind of healing mantra or breathing exercise or some crap like that. Sariah shook her head. She might not approve of the woman’s methods, but it was clear that she was helping Joshua. And from the look on his face, maybe this was just what he needed.
Joshua would get better.
And then maybe, at some point, the two of them could become friends once more.
* * *
Joshua fought to stay conscious as they awaited the arrival of the ambulance. The night was beginning to turn to dawn, the edges of the horizon edging toward brightness by tiny increments.
It no longer felt as if his life were draining out of his side, but the pain was still intense enough that he wasn’t sure how long he could fight off the blackness that hunted for him. And the hunt was brutal.
In front of his eyes, all he could see was blood.
And yet, with as horrific as his dissection of the old man had been, a part of Joshua had felt a band of pain inside him dissolve as the man’s life bled away. As if the spirits of his wife and daughters had stood by his side, not for the brutal slaughter, but for the resolution of their murders.
As he sat there, contemplating the ending of his family, and the letting go of their memories, he felt again a tug at his sleeve. It was Bella.
Ever since he had left the house, she’d been pestering him, whining and pulling him back toward the old structure. Did she want him to see once more the results of his actions? That seemed out of character for her.
“Seems like she’s trying to tell you something,” Leslie murmured.
He stared into his dog’s face, and then looked over at the house. Something tugged at his memories in the same way Bella was tugging at his sleeve.
Some lose end that still needed to be tied off. A clue to something…
The song.
Jack fell down and broke his crown…
Why had the old man sung that song? He’d heard it before, of course. Impossible to be around Livvie and not know her affinity for it.
But why sing it? Even as he died?
And why had he been in the process of remodeling the house? As far as Joshua knew, that place hadn’t changed since his wife Jacqueline had been a small girl.
A whisper of an idea fluttered in the back of his brain, urging him to stand and move back into the house. The entire team crowded around him, offering help, but he pushed them away.
“I need… I just need…” He could not form a coherent sentence.
They were at his back, trailing behind him, but Joshua didn’t care. All he cared about was figuring out this puzzle. That, and the warm feel of Bella pressing into his side, supporting him.
He reentered the home, ignoring the bloodstains that were everywhere. A muffled cry behind Joshua spoke of Leslie’s shock at what she was seeing. But he almost didn’t register the sound.
There was the door. The door he didn’t remember being there.
He pushed it open, and there, leading downward was a set of spiral stairs. Wooden. Fine craftsmanship.
Soft light filtered up from below, casting everything in a warm glow. Joshua moved down the stairs, a part of his brain shouting at him that this was one last trap set by Humpty to kill them all.
He ignored it.
As he exited the stairwell, he stopped in stunned silence.
There, in front of him, was a beautiful nursery. A hand-painted mural of cute animals covered the walls, a lush area rug sat atop warm hardwood, and there on top of the rug rested an old-fashioned crib.
Above the crib was a mobile that turned gently as it played a soft tune. It was a recording. Old, worn… almost unrecognizable.
It was Joshua’s own voice.
And Jill came tumbling after...
Moving forward, Joshua neared the edge of the crib and looked down inside.
And saw his own eyes staring up at him.
His eyes, framed by Livvie’s golden hair.
A baby, nestled in fuzzy blankets, cooed and gurgled at him, waving chubby fingers in the air before Joshua’s face. A grin covered the babe’s face, lighting it up in a way that Joshua only vaguely remembered from when his daughters had been young.
Stenciled into the headboard of the crib was a name.
Joshua.
His daughter had given birth to a baby boy. And in spite of her rage and fear and pain, in spite of the vitriol it must have engendered in the old man, she had named the child after her father. Her daddy. Joshua.
She had placed his voice singing her favorite bedtime song near her baby, so he would hear it as he slept. So that he would know Joshua’s voice.
He bent down and took the child in his arms, ignoring the tug in his side from his wound. It was a tiny distraction, less than a gnat. Nothing could keep his attention away from this precious thing he held.
“Hey there, Joshua. That’s it, my little man.”
Little Joshua’s eyes widened as he heard his grandfather’s voice. His fingers found Joshua’s stubbled cheek, then his mouth, and the infant giggled, snuggling into his Joshua’s chest.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the song, echoing through the room. Filling it with the sounds of a time long past.
Joshua’s eyes filled with tears even as his heart filled with joy. His wife and daughters were gone, but somehow, impossibly, they had left something of themselves behind. His only remaining family.
Hugging his grandchild to him, Joshua felt the presence of his team around him as they came in close. He had been wrong. This child wasn’t his only family.
He was surrounded by them.
PETER, PETER, PUMPKIN EATER – The short story conclusion
CHAPTER 1
Special Agent Sariah Cooper looked out over the countryside of Lancaster County in Pennsylvania. The colors of the fall had hit, and the trees around were like a daytime fireworks show, stunning in their almost infinite variety of colors, ranging from bright yellow to fuchsia.
It was early enough in the day still that no visitors had shown up at Peter’s Pumpkin Patch, one of those agri-tainment places where they did hayrides and corn mazes, with pick-you-own pumpkins and apple cider pressing. Workers dressed up in colonial outfits, but in vibrant colors, doing everything they could to make sure their farm wasn’t mistaken for part of the nearby Amish community.
This place even had wifi, for crying out loud.
The grounds were beautiful… charming and picturesque. It almost looked like Sariah had stepped into a postcard. Until she saw the body.
He had been a young, and from what could still be seen of his torso, very fit young man. His stomach had been opened up, and his intestines were strewn across the archery range that he had manned here. Just one more event in this place that didn’t look like it was going to open up today.
And it wasn’t just his stomach that had been mutilated. One glance in between his legs and Sariah felt a strange combination of nausea and pity.
“Well, that’s just not right,” Had muttered, staring down at the corpse. “It’s subhuman.”
“Monstrous,” Reggie agreed from where she stood at Sariah’s side. Very close. Distractingly close.
Sighing, Sariah rubbed at her eyes. It had been a late night. Sariah glanced over at Reggie, hoping her blush wasn’t too obvious to everyone around.
No. Stay focused. Personal life and professional life had to stay separate.
Sariah’s team had gotten th
e call just a few minutes ago. Another body, another brutal murder to add to the two already in existence.
The two on their own had been ugly enough that local law enforcement had decided to call in the big guns. That was why Sariah was already here.
So far, this was the third death, all of them from the surrounding area. All had been young men, all had been mutilated in the same kind of way.
Sort of.
The first one had gotten his fingers amputated, as well as mutilation around the mouth. The second’s hands were chopped off. And then there was this one, with the stomach turned inside out.
The similarities all existed below the belt.
Every single one of the young men’s sexual organs had been butterflied, spread out and pinned to the skin of the thighs. And from what the autopsies had reported so far, the morbid dissections had all taken place while the victims had been alive.
Tox screen had come back positive for neuromuscular-blocking drugs, which meant that the victims couldn’t move, but would be aware of every part of the dissection. The thought turned Sariah’s stomach.
“Well, that doesn’t look like it felt too good,” came a voice from their rental van. Out rolled former agent Joshua Wright, with an infant strapped to his chest, and Bella, his Boxador at his side.
His grandson, little Joshua Junior, in a Baby Bjorn, with a hyperactive dog prancing around at the former agent’s feet. Sariah had to suppress a grin at the sight. He was practically a self-contained family unit. Who would’ve ever guessed it?
Joshua-the-elder caught sight of Reggie’s proximity to Sariah and his face warped into some kind of cross between a frown and a grimace. Sariah suppressed a sigh. Their relationship had taken a few hits as of late. Reggie wasn’t the only part of that, but it was the latest.
As Joshua neared the body, Had stepped forward. “Whoa. You don’t want little Josh to see that, do you?”
The former agent raised an eyebrow. “Um. He’s like six months old. He won’t remember it.”
Another voice came from the direction of the van. Leslie Sands, Joshua’s sober companion.
“Just because he can’t remember it doesn’t mean it won’t affect him,” she suggested, her tone mellow.
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