Ten Open Graves: A Collection of Supernatural Horror

by David Wood

  Grant spun in his seat. “No, look out!”

  The diner owner scowled. “Something wrong with you, boy?”

  The wall behind him was smooth and unblemished, apart from grease stains on the pale paint. “No, sorry,” Grant said weakly. “It’s nothing.”

  The man shook his head, disgust evident in his expression. His eyes seemed to glow momentarily red as he turned away.

  Suppressing a shudder, Grant returned to his coffee. The sooner he got to Cassie and out of Wallen’s Gap, the better.

  As the clock on the wall ticked past eight o'clock, he went back to his car and drove up to the Brunswick house.

  The street was quiet, no people walking and only one or two other vehicles sliding slowly by. He parked along the curb and walked to the front door. Before he lost his nerve, he knocked firmly. Footsteps rang out almost immediately and the door flew open.

  Brunswick stood there wearing nothing but striped boxers and filthy, stained white t-shirt. “What the hell do you want, city boy? Didn't I tell you to stay away?”

  Grant stood tall, refused to be intimidated. “I want to talk to Cassie.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  “I want to talk to Cassie.”

  “Yeah? Well, she don't wanna talk to you. You just run on, now, before I get my shotgun and encourage you along.”

  Brunswick began to close the door and Grant put a hand against it. He looked past Brunswick and yelled out, “Cassie! It's Grant. You there?”

  Brunswick yanked the door wide open and slapped a palm into Grant's chest, and shoved him back across the porch. “Who the hell do you think you are, boy? Get outta here!”

  Grant snarled, grabbed Brunswick's wrist and twisted it away from his chest. Brunswick yelped and half-turned, fell to one knee so his bones wouldn't snap.

  “Cassie!” Grant shouted again. “I need to talk to you!”

  “She ain't here.” Carl stepped out of the shadow of the hallway onto the porch.

  Releasing Brunswick, Grant turned to face the skinny stoner.

  Brunswick stood, rubbed at his wrist, as he grinned. “Ain't here,” he echoed.

  “Where is she?” Grant asked.

  Carl laughed, shook his head, and muttered something under his breath. Grant didn't catch the words, but the tone was amused.

  “She's gone to stay with her aunt in Kingsville for a few weeks.” Brunswick grinned. “Said you was getting on her nerves, kind of stalker-like.”

  “Bullshit. I dropped her off here last night. You know that. How could she have gone back to Kingsville?”

  “I don't know, a car?” Carl, still chuckling, gestured into the house. “You wanna go inside and have a look around, smart guy?”

  Brunswick glared at Carl, then his face softened as he cottoned on. “Yeah, that's right. Go on in, have a look around.”

  Grant stared at them hard, trying to measure their intent. Were they hoping to lure him in so they could jump him out of the sight of witnesses? Then again, there wasn't anyone around to witness the act, and he doubted anyone in town would lift a finger to help or even call the police. Fuck it, he didn't care if that was their plan, he had no fear of these two stringy losers. Bracing for a brawl, heart pounding and all his senses alive, he strode into the house and started searching room by room. Carl and Brunswick stood in the hall, laughing at him. It didn't take long to search the whole place, small as it was, calling Cassie's name as he went.

  He lingered when he got to her bedroom. It certainly looked like she'd packed up and left. The closet stood open, bare hangers dangling skeleton-like in the glow of the cheap lamp on the bedside table. The dresser drawers were similarly empty. There were no personal effects, no pictures on the wall, nothing. Only a door hanger spelling out “Cassie” in spangled script bore testimony to the room's former inhabitant. If she'd been abducted, they wouldn't have stopped to let her pack, would they?

  He dismissed the doubts with a shake of his head. “Tell me where she is,” he demanded again.

  “At her aunt's,” Brunswick said.

  “In Richmond,” Carl said.

  “Kingsville,” Brunswick corrected. He put his hand on the stoner's shoulder. “Carl, step outside for a minute, would you?”

  Carl sniggered. “Oh yeah, Kingsville. Knew it was something like that.” He shot an unreadable glance at Grant. “Holler if you need me.”

  Brunswick turned to face Grant. “Now, you listen good. I don't like you, and I don't owe you the truth, but here it is anyhow. Cassie couldn't decide between you and Carl and she felt like you was both putting too much pressure on her. She left, and I ain't telling you where she is.”

  “Bullshit.” Grant felt his anger boiling. “Where the hell is she?”

  Brunswick was suddenly serious, his face hard. “She ain't anywhere for you to find, boy. Now, I ain't gonna tell you again. Get outta here.”

  A rough voice came from behind. “Problem here?”

  Grant's blood ran cold. Jesse Stallard stood in the doorway. Beyond, through the open front door, Grant saw the other two Stallard boys lounging in their truck, parked at the curb.

  He grimaced. Five on one odds were not good, especially with all three Stallards. They were a much greater threat than either Carl or Brunswick. Besides, as much as he wanted to bust some skulls, what he really wanted was to find Cassie.

  He stiffened, looked from Stallard to Brunswick, and shook his head. “No. I was just leaving.” Summoning as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, he strode directly at Stallard, who held his ground for only a split-second before giving way. Grant shouldered him aside, rather than brushing past him, but Stallard only chuckled. “City pussy.”

  Something inside Grant snapped. “What the fuck did you say?”

  Jesse grinned. “I called you a pussy, pussy.”

  Grant growled and rushed the tall Stallard, his fist striking out with all his pent up frustrations and fear. The impact across the redneck’s cheek was a rush of satisfaction and Jesse cried out, stumbling drunkenly to one side, eyes wide in surprise. Grant followed him and delivered two more heavy punches and Jesse dropped unconscious to the floor. Cliff and Jed came racing across the lawn as Carl ran from the house, yelling incoherently.

  Grant turned on Carl, landing one good shot on the rangy stoner’s chin before he was pummelled from both sides by the remaining Stallard brothers. He roared and spat, struck out left and right, letting all his anger go, beyond caring any more. He felt the impacts from all sides, but refused to go down, stumbling back and forth as he grit his teeth and fought back. No way was he going down without giving them something to remember him by.

  “Enough!” The voice was a whip crack in the early morning air.

  Grant was stunned when the fight stopped almost instantly. He swung a couple more shots even as all the boys moved away.

  “Pastor Edwin,” Graham Brunswick said. “Ain’t nothing to worry about here.”

  “That right?” Edwin said. “Get along, boys.”

  Jesse Stallard moaned, coming around as his brothers picked him up, held him between them. They nodded at their father, grinning, more amused than chastised.

  “This ain’t the time or the place,” Edwin went on. “Now all o’ya get along out of here.”

  The Stallard brothers returned to their truck and Carl and Graham strode into the house and closed the door, leaving Grant alone on the front grass with the pastor. Grant panted for breath, his knuckles cut and throbbing, his face and body pulsing with pain. The pastor stared at him for a moment, his expression blank, then returned to his own house next door.

  Grant stood alone, confused. What the fuck was that all about? The rush of punching out a Stallard was lost again in the fear and confusion of Wallen’s Gap. Grant limped back to his car. He needed to find Cassie. Nothing else mattered.

  Chapter 12

  Grant rolled into town, his mood as black as the clouds that hung low on the horizon. He knew Cassie hadn't t
aken off on her own, but the slightest doubt remained. What if she really had left? He couldn't entirely blame her if she had. Her life sucked. But he was sure he'd felt a connection between them, and she had indicated she was tired of Carl. Then again, she'd also indicated that she couldn't seem to shake the guy.

  “What am I doing?” he said aloud. “Pull yourself together, Grant.” He steered the car into a parking space on the main drag and sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

  He wanted two things: answers about Kaletherex, and to find Cassie. If Cassie had left of her own accord, there probably wasn't much he could do about it. If she hadn’t, he was convinced the key to finding her lay with whatever secret hid behind the sinister name. Maybe he was stuck in Wallen’s Gap for a while longer after all. After a few minutes' contemplation, he decided to give the library another go.

  Since he already had a library card, he was able to avoid another annoying question-and-answer session with the aged librarian, and got right to work. Settling in at one of the computer stations, he decided to take a different tack. McKenzie had known something about Kaletherex, so he decided to start by researching the recently-deceased professor.

  The first several results were accounts of the unsolved murder, sudden big news in the area, but at the bottom of the page he found a link to the professor's page on the college website. He skimmed the brief bio and list of publishing credits, and one title leaped out at him. Ancient Mysticism in Appalachia. That sounded promising.

  A quick web search revealed the book was out of print and unavailable in electronic form, but when he checked the library catalog, he was surprised to find it listed. His sudden euphoria turned quickly to disappointment when he saw that the book was checked out. He muttered a curse, drawing the attention of the librarian, who frowned and raised a finger to her lips. Since she and Grant were the only people in the place, shushing him was a bit absurd, but he didn't want to get on her bad side just now. He nodded and adopted a duly chastened expression.

  He made a few more fruitless web searches and then, on a whim, checked to see if Cassie had a Facebook page. No luck. He sighed. The book was his only possible lead. Time to go for it.

  He approached the front desk and waited politely while the librarian pretended not to notice him. She puttered about, shifting items around and opening drawers to inspect their contents. She was clearly doing no actual work. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and looked up.

  “I was interested in a particular book,” Grant said, forcing a smile, “but it's checked out. Any chance you could tell me when it's due to be returned?” He handed her a slip of paper with the title and author.

  Pursing her lips, she turned the paper over and examined the back for some inexplicable reason. She stared at Grant for five uncomfortable heartbeats before nodding and turning to her computer.

  “It is long overdue,” she said after a few mouse clicks. “Let me see. Oh.” Her wrinkled faced reddened. “I'm afraid I can't help you.”

  Grant couldn't believe his shitty luck. “Can you at least tell me who was the last person to check it out?”

  The woman looked him in the eye, seeming to really see him for the first time.

  “Andrew Shipman.”

  Grant wandered out of the library in a half-daze. Here was a solid connection. There had to be something in McKenzie's book that could help him understand what the hell his father had been into. Now, if he could only find the book. Surely it was somewhere in all the boxes he'd packed up.

  He was so deep in thought that he almost walked right into the girl leaning against his car. He looked up in surprise as she greeted him.

  “Hey there. You're the new guy.” She had wavy, brown hair, big hazel eyes, and straight, white teeth-- a rarity in Wallen's Gap. She wore hip-huggers and a tight tee shirt that emphasized her curves. She cocked her hip and he caught a glimpse of flat, tanned abs and a pink thong.

  “I know I am.” He wished he had come up with a smarter retort, but his reply must have tickled her funny bone. She giggled and touched his forearm with the tip of a heavily lacquered fingernail.

  “You're cute. I'm Jazy.”

  “Grant.” He racked his brain for a way to extricate himself from the conversation. The girl was smoking hot, and not just by Wallen's Gap standards, but he wanted to find the book, and maybe find Cassie.

  “I been wanting to catch you since I saw you drive by in this sweet car a couple days ago,” Jazy said. “When I saw it just now, I finally plucked up the courage to stop and say hello. You can probably imagine how dull it gets around here, when you know everyone and there’s nothing new and exciting going on.”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Are you okay?” Jazy took a step closer and looked up at him in genuine concern.

  “Yeah, sorry, just got a lot on my mind.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?” How could she possibly know what was going on?

  “I lost my daddy too, not so long ago.” Sadness dulled her eyes, but she forced a smile. “You just gotta give it time. Nothing else helps.”

  Grant felt a lump forming in his throat. It wasn't out of sadness over the loss of his dad, but for this bit of simple kindness and concern. He'd experienced precious little of such normal human interactions since arriving in Wallen's Gap. He cleared his throat.

  “Thanks.” Then a thought occurred to him. “Say, do you know Cassie Brunswick?”

  “Why sure.” Jazy smiled. “Of course, everybody knows everybody around here, but me and Cassie are friends. She's sweet.”

  “You wouldn't know where I could find her, would you?” If Jazy and Cassie were friends, maybe the girl knew something.

  Jazy brought her fingers to her lips and stared at him, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. “Oh my God, I didn't even think. Of course it was you.”

  “What was me?” A cold, heavy weight sagged inside of him.

  “She called me late last night, all upset because she thinks she still loves Carl but she also likes some new fellow, and the pressure's getting to her. And apparently all kinds of other things are going on. She wouldn’t tell me who the other guy was, and I figured it was a local boy.” She made a face. “Anyhow, she said she was going to go stay with her cousin or some such, she just couldn’t handle staying in town until her head was straight. She was calling me for advice, and I told her sure, she should go and give herself time and space to think. Oh, don't look like that.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close. He was keenly aware of her breasts pressing against his chest. “I'm sure she won't be gone too long, and I don't think she'll pick that Carl.”

  Grant stared over her head at the mountains, their peaks hidden by low-hanging rain clouds. So Cassie really had left on her own. It was hard to believe, but there it was in unrequested corroboration. First Suzanne, then Cassie. Whatever. If she actually found it difficult to choose between him and that Carl dipshit, he didn't need her in his life. He would never understand women. At least she was well away from the genetic traffic circle that was Wallen's Gap, and that was the main thing, right? With any luck she would stay away from her mean father and that idiot Carl. .

  “Come on. I know just the thing to cheer you up.” Jazy took him by the hand and led him down the street. He wondered what she had in mind as she took him down a side street. The asphalt gave way to a rutted dirt and gravel road, and weeds grew tall in the cracks in the sidewalk.

  They arrived at a small diner, the name painted on the dirty window proclaiming it The Lyons' Den. As she pushed the door open, the sounds of music and cheerful conversation poured out. He raised an eyebrow at Jazy. This was about as unlike Wallen's Gap as you could get. She grinned and pushed him in ahead of her.

  The diner was dim and filled with the aroma of greasy Southern cooking. The few patrons, every one of them African-American, only spared the new arrivals a passing glance before smiling or nodding at Jazy and returning to their conversations. John Lee Hooker belted out a mournful bl
ues tune from an old-school jukebox in the corner. The atmosphere wrapped around Grant like a comfortable old blanket.

  “You feel better already, don't you?” Jazy still held his hand, and he realized he didn't mind so much. “Welcome to the only place in Wallen's Gap where people actually mean it when they're nice to each other.”

  She introduced him to Amos Lyons, the proprietor, an elderly man with hair as white as his skin was dark. His teeth and eyes were matching shades of very pale yellow, but his smile was friendly. He shook Grant's hand, warned him to “Watch out for Miss Jazy, she's trouble!” in a stage whisper, and handed them each a bottle of Mountain Dew.

  “I'm not a big Mountain Dew guy,” he said as they sat down at a table near the jukebox.

  “Take a drink.” Jazy smiled as he took a gulp and surprise registered on his face. “It's really Budweiser. I ain't twenty-one yet. Of course, he charges six dollars a bottle, but every once in a while it's worth it to sit back, listen to some music, and have a cold one. Don't you think?”

  “Definitely. No offense, but this town is depressing as hell.” He took a long pull of beer, enjoying the flavor as the ice cold brew slaked his thirst.

  “You don't have to tell me. God, I want to get out of here so bad, but I don't know how.” She shrugged and let her head hang.

  “Hey, don't do that.” Grant put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “You're the only ray of sunshine around here. Don't let this place beat you.”

  “I'm not college material and I don't know anything else to do with myself. I thought about dancing, you know.” She pantomimed a pole dance with such a goofy look on her face that Grant had to laugh. “But that ain't me.”

  “There's always a way. You just have to hang in there until you figure out what it is.” Grant's thoughts turned to Cassie. Was there a way out for her? Did she even want one, or was she going to come back and choose Carl? He kicked himself. Stupid. Cassie had made her choice, and a part of him was happy for her. She was smart enough to get away from everything, for a little while at least, even if that meant getting away from him too. So be it. He turned his attention back to Jazy.