Gary, after confirming no prying eyes, stepped off the sidewalk and led Becky into the shadows of the hedgerow. The lawn hadn't been mowed in weeks and tall grass whipped at the legs as they carefully edged the yard.
“I hope there are no snakes around here,” Becky whispered.
“Just the trouser snake in my shorts,” Gary whispered back. “Don't worry.”
“Where's the flashlight you brought?”
“I brought two small LED flashlights. They're in my pocket but we don't need them yet. We'll use them inside.”
“If we get inside.”
“Oh, we'll get inside.”
“Unless I step on a rake first and you have to carry me to the ER.”
Becky seemed bitchier than usual but Gary assumed that would change as soon as they entered the house. He slowed his gait and took the lead. If anyone tripped over anything, it would be him. However, it didn't concern him much. While they were in shadows, most of the yard received enough residual light from neighboring homes, streetlights, and perhaps the clear night sky that navigation came easily. Many residents in the neighborhood, perhaps due to curious people such as themselves lurking in the area, had taken to leaving porch lights lit. Gary noticed as they moved that some of the windows, along with the front door, had been boarded shut. For the first time since deciding to make this trip to Austin, a sense of foreboding seeped into his bones.
Too late to turn back now, not that he wanted to, but if he chickened out at this point Becky he’d never hear the end of it. Besides, he'd sold Becky on the idea, a combination comic book convention and breaking-and-entering to the now infamous McMurder Mansion. Would the murder-suicide have been so newsworthy without the link to a string of murdered teens and twenty-somethings, along with a rash of murdered prostitutes spanning five states? Gary doubted it. Remote locations that when connected on a map and looped in a circle of network cabling, as witnessed on news outlets, alluded to the image of an inverted pentagram. And without Gary’s investigative work this would be nothing more than a local news story of an employer going postal on employees before hanging himself. It wouldn't be more than a newsflash on Denver television, if that. Instead it had become national news. He fully expected a true crime novel or movie to be made at some point, though he'd read no news of the sort. But if it happened, and he was sure it would, he'd be interviewed. In fact he was surprised he hadn't been interviewed already. Which made seeing the crime scene firsthand that much more important.
When they crossed into the backyard, darkness crept closer but a light from next door, perhaps a porch light left on for security, glinted off glass. Gary, leading Becky by the hand, began to cut across the yard toward what he now could identify as an addition to the home. A room comprised almost exclusively of glass.
“Looks like you found your way in, cowboy,” Becky said.
It certainly made sense. They hadn't been the first with the idea, although, at least for them, gaining entrance would be easier and much more quiet than whoever had initially broken the glass. A plastic sheet had been duct taped across the missing section. They simply needed to peel back tape and slip inside.
The adhesive held strong and peeling away the tape, at least initially, as he worked to free a strip at a corner, went slowly, especially without sufficient light.
“Let me try,” Becky whispered. “My fingernails are longer.”
Gary had half a mind to use his pocketknife to slash through the plastic sheet but then resealing everything on their way out would be impossible. Not that it really mattered.
Becky added, “Give me some light.”
They'd need light soon anyway. Gary removed one of the small flashlights and switched it on.
Corner loosed, a seemingly loud sound of tape ripping free broke the silence. Before, all they had heard was an occasional car in the distance or barking dog or amorous feline.
“Ladies first,” Gary whispered.
“Fuck that. Hand me the flashlight, you're going first.”
Gary realized his heart rate had increased and palms grown sweaty. Entering this house, unlike when they entered the building in Kansas, seemed more criminal. In both cases they were trespassing. But people had died here. A lot of people, in fact. The location of a multiple homicide. McMurder Mansion wasn't simply a crime scene. It was the crime scene. Perhaps the crime scene of the decade.
Broken glass crunched underfoot as Gary, throwing one leg over at a time, climbed through the missing pane of glass into the house.
Becky handed him the flashlight and he helped her inside. Then he handed her the flashlight and retrieved his own.
Plenty of photographs had aired in the media, but to standing here, where it all had taken place, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“A cubicle farm? In a sun room?” Becky whispered.
Gary briefly explained its purpose to facilitate business trips as a virtual office. “The guy had employees regularly visit his home. He had guest rooms set up, like he was running a freaking hotel or something.”
“Show me.”
He'd show her, all right. He wanted to see it all, even snap some digital photos with his camera phone.
“This is where Alex Lancaster and his henchmen were slaughtered. Look, you can see bloodstains on the couch and floor.”
“You can tell police investigators were here.”
“Yeah, tape all over the place.”
“This is where the daughter—”
“Katie,” Gary clarified.
“Where Katie was gangbanged. That must be where her friend died of a drug cocktail overdose. This is creepy as hell. Hold me.”
Gary hugged his girlfriend before resuming their tour of the house. It was creepy. All the bloodstains. Not much, if anything, had been done since the night everyone died. They slowly navigated their way to the foyer, Gary snapping occasional photos as they went.
“Holy fucking shit,” Becky said. “Look at the staircase.”
“It's like a waterfall of blood and gore washed down it.”
“It smells, too.”
It did smell. The building held a stench of musty, stagnant air and death. A smell of sex and... Did he detect an underlying scent of urine, too? Gary nearly gagged.
“This is where the worst of it happened,” Gary said. “Look, you can see bullet holes.”
“Jesus... What a mess.” Becky pressed tight against Gary as they stood there, taking in the horrid scene. “I cannot believe that woman lived after he cut open her belly.”
“Women have C-sections every day. The police arrived at an ideal time.”
“It's surprising that anyone survived.”
“True. But, from what I read on-line, those college girls weren't simply interns working for sex, they were part of a coven. A coven that helped build KaosKansas and its affiliate domains, message boards, search engine, and—”
“And pretty much every conceivable type of computer site, yada-yada... I know, you've already explained it all in painstaking detail,” Becky said, hugging him tighter.
“Sorry. It's just so interesting. And to think, with everyone dead or in prison for murder or accessory to murder, the only employees spared were some salesmen and low-level employees.”
“So, what's to come of the company?”
“Who knows? A law firm has control of the company now. The damn thing seems to be ticking along of its own accord. Computers are like that, you know. He built a network of servers with plenty of redundancy. Let's check out the library. From what I read on-line, that, along with the basement where the coven performed rituals, is the two most evil rooms in the house. There is even a dungeon downstairs.”
“Evil rooms... Listen to you trying to scare me. It's not going to work so stop trying,” Becky said. But based on the tenseness of the body pressed against him, Gary knew it was working. Not that he wanted to scare her. He was merely thinking out loud. Hell, he had started to creep out himself.
Gary decided to g
o downstairs first, before he lost the nerve. It was creepy, yes, and very diabolical. But after a few photo ops, lackluster jokes about bestiality and Becky locking him in the stockade if he didn't get this tour rolling along, they headed back upstairs.
He'd wanted to see the library most of all, with its large collection of books, books on the occult, books containing the type of information found at KaosKansas.com. He thought he'd read that the books had been removed but that couldn't be right, could it? When they entered the library their flashlight beams highlighted shelves filled with books.
“Huh...” Gary said.
“What's that?”
“The books—” he began but didn't finish. Instead he jumped when a spark flashed in the fireplace. “Did you see that?”
“See what?” Becky grabbed his arm.
Something sparked again but this time it caught. A flame licked to life in the fireplace.
“That,” Gary said with a gesture.
“How the hell—?”
“How should I know?”
Suddenly the room seemed smaller... The fire larger. Two, then three flames. Four and five... Too many to count. Walls pressed closer, eyeless portraits gazed upon them.
“I don't like this, Gar. We should—”
It's you. The one who tipped off the police.
Gary spun around. “Who said that? Where are you?”
Laughter thundered around them. Gary's scrotum tightened and kidneys threatened to release.
I'm all around you.
“Someone's fucking with us,” Becky said, “and I don't like it.”
Won't you join me downstairs? You'll find a nice bed of nails to stretch out on. You'll enjoy the way I fuck with you.
“Oh, shit,” Gary exclaimed. “It's all true!”
“What's all true?” Becky said with shaky voice.
“He did it to escape Kasas. He took his own life to bind himself to this house.”
Menacing laughter echoed around them.
“Shit, let's go!” Gary pulled Becky in a run toward the hall, but before they could leave the library the double-doors leading out slammed shut. Candles blazed to life around them and the fire surged. Becky began to scream but the maniacal laughter of the spirit of Brant Wilson drowned it out.
About the Author
Brett Williams enjoys penning dark fiction which spans multiple genres, including horror, crime, and erotica. His fiction is often set in small town America and explores the human condition. In addition to offending people with his words, he enjoys spending time at the dog park with his Jack Russell terrier, Eddie Blue, and keeping his sleeves wet with a growing passion for tropical fishkeeping. Keep up-to-date with his goings-on at BrettWilliamsfiction.com and Facebook.
Other books by the author:
Family Business
Lucifer’s Children
Lucifer’s Whore
Family Business: Live Bait
Club Nadir
Insanity Road
Wodka Küsse: A brutal tale of a serial killer & his stalker
High Octane Damnation
Legend of Kill Creek Woods
A Good Time
Don’t Judge Me
Buddy
From Murky Depths
Third Eye High
Sound of Madness
Thank you in advance for posting a review!
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