by Angie Morel
I tossed him the binoculars, which he caught with ease. Holding up pretend ones to my eyes, I motioned for him to be watching the house. He put the real ones up to his eyes, nodding as he looked at me.
Observing the house, I decided a direct approach would be best. My plan was to haul ass from the tree line right up to the front door and in, prepared to swing. On my back, in place of the large Adidas pack, was the small cinch sack that I’d fashioned to hold the baseball bat and other small miscellaneous weapons. It was adjusted in a way that it was snug against my back, allowing little movement while I was running. I’d used clips in various spots on the cord that came around the front to keep it tight. The bat stuck up at a slight angle to the right out of the cinched opening, like a sword, easy to grab. There were a couple of utility knives in the sack, some zip ties, rope, and a fist sized rock. The rock gave the sack enough heft so it could be used as a weapon as well. If by chance I lost the bat and the hunting knife strapped to my belt, I could rip the clips off of the straps and use the cinch sack as a swinging weapon, Rolo-style.
Unfortunately, I was no match for bullets, so if Todd and company were indeed inside the house and started shooting, I was screwed. Having a gun in my arsenal would’ve been ideal; however, finding one was a luxury I couldn’t afford in my haste to get to the house.
Not allowing myself to feed on all the shit that could go wrong, I blew out a breath and then dashed across the clearing to the house, grateful when no shots rang out. Not breaking stride, I took the porch steps in a single bound and then had to backpedal when the front door met my face. Huffing next to the door, I slid the bat out of the cinch sack and cocked it back, trying to calm my breathing down. Slowly I reached out and pushed the door handle down. There was no resistance; it was unlocked.
Giving the door a kick with the side of my left boot, I rushed in, bat up and ready. The door banged against the stopper and then slowly made its way back with a slight squeak. That was the only sound in the house.
I smelled something though.
Death.
My eyes squeezed shut briefly as my heart banged around painfully inside. Please, please, don’t let them be dead. The desperate plea cycled in a loop inside my head. The silence was mocking as I crept deeper into the house.
The first dead body was located in the kitchen.
Chapter 35
My legs turned to jelly as the tension in my body released. Reaching a hand out, I leaned on the kitchen island, giving my muscles time to firm up again. As my strength returned, I studied Savannah, using the same cool detachment now as I’d used when dissecting the frog in Mr. Diesel’s biology class.
Most of the girls, as well as some of the boys, had been squealing and saying how gross it was, barely able to push the X-ACTO knife in and down through the soft buttery gut of the frog to reveal its innards. It hadn’t bothered me a bit. I cut through and poked around and looked at everything. The apathy came from the fact that I didn’t care about the frog, had no personal connection to it, and it was dead.
That’s the manner in which I studied Savannah, for the most part. But unlike the frog, I did have a personal connection here, and the hatred directed towards her for what she did made this an easy task.
Her body was tied to one of the kitchen chairs and slumped over to the side, her eyes half-open and dull. I watched with sick fascination as a fly emerged from her slack mouth and flew off. She’d been dead a few days.
Mixed with the relief that the dead body was Savannah and not a member of my family—was the regret that I hadn’t been the one to kill her. And she had been killed, not simply left here to die. A puncture wound marked her throat, and from that opening she’d bled out all over the front of her clothes, making it look like she was wearing a red apron.
Karma’s a bitch—or in this case—a knife.
Unfortunately, finding her dead at the hands of someone else gave me no comfort. This discovery led me to believe her “mall” group killed her, as I had a hard time imagining that any of mine could kill someone in cold blood, deserving or not. Well, Rolo could, but this was Cory and Claire’s cousin, so it’s doubtful they would’ve been okay with this solution.
As I was preparing my mind for the frightening task of searching for more dead bodies—I knew there was nothing alive in this house—a thought occurred to me. Mickey would recognize her. What would go through his mind when he saw Savannah? He’d be wondering why a girl from the mall was here, and then he’d worry about what was going on, and if the others from the mall were here someplace, too. The language barrier would make things difficult to explain, to say the least.
Avoiding the tacky puddles on the floor, a result of the first initial blood spurts from her neck wound, I made my way behind Savannah. Grabbing the back of the chair, I tilted it towards me, trying not to think about the way her head flopped and was now rocking back and forth between my hands as I dragged the load to the door leading to the patio at the rear of the house. Easing up, I let the front two legs thump down, which in turn made Savannah’s head flop forward. After opening the extra-wide slider, I grabbed the chair again and leveraged it outside.
Once the chair was free and clear of the door, I twisted it around and positioned it at the top of the stone steps where they met the house. I gave the back of the chair a kick with my boot, sending the front of the chair, and Savannah’s body, flying down three steps to the hard stone floor of the patio, where she hit facedown with a thud.
I looked around. Good. Now that the garbage—Savannah’s body—was outside and lay close to the house, it wouldn’t be seen even if Mickey looked out the windows or the patio door. Entering the house again, I locked the door behind me before going over to the kitchen sink, thankfully finding a tiny sliver of soap stuck to the granite by the edge. I used it to wash away the memory of Savannah’s hair rubbing against my knuckles.
My pants were used to dry my hands as I left the room and swiftly searched the rest of the house, mindful that Mickey was waiting for me. Pulling a no-nonsense manner about me, I used it to cloak the fear of who I might find as my feet travelled from room to room.
There were no more dead bodies. But what did that mean? Was that good or bad?
No use worrying about it now, I thought. There were other concerning matters at hand, one of which was collecting Mickey. Exiting into the garage, I went to one of the big double doors and crouched, pulling it up and then open all the way after I unlocked it. That’s when the gaping space in the garage hit me, the spot where the big SUV had been parked.
Hopefully that meant my family was behind the wheel, not the others.
Stepping out onto the driveway beneath the malevolent sky, where not a sliver of blue or white remained, I waved my arms in Mickey’s direction. Then I motioned for him to come. There was the faint sound of the quad starting up, and then I saw him squirt out of the tree line going full blast, just as two bolts of lightning flashed a nanosecond apart in the distance, like they were announcing his swift action. I had to grin at the maniacal look of glee on his face. It took about four seconds for him to reach the house. Crazy kid. There was absolutely zero fear in that boy.
After parking the quad in the garage, Mickey slid off the seat, eyes already big and gleaming as they took in the yellow sports car. Giving me a sideways look, he strolled towards it, wearing a devilish smile. I let him have his fun “driving” it while I pulled the garage door shut and made sure the utility door on the far side of the garage was locked.
It seemed like years ago when we first came through that door, expecting to find an empty house, and instead finding Cory and Claire firing shoe bullets from the closet. The memory caused my gut to twist in apprehension.
They had to be okay. I wouldn’t allow my mind to think otherwise.
Smiling at Mickey through the windshield as he twisted the wheel back and forth, speeding down streets in his imagination, I thought of something. Where was the sedan? The one that Savannah and I drove? It didn’t cross
my mind to check for it in the parking lot back at the mall. Surely Todd and crew drove it back here. So, what did that mean that both cars were gone? I didn’t like the direction of my thoughts.
Settling Mickey in the house, I decided to take a quick jaunt around the property, to see if I could find any evidence as to what happened here. And my look-see better happen fast based on the ominous tone and appearance outside. The storm was about to break, but there’s no way I’d let that stop me. I had to find some answers. Something. Fear, curling and restless in my stomach, would settle for nothing less than visual proof of my family’s death, or (please, please, please) signs of their survival.
I found the sedan parked behind one of the outbuildings. Peering into the rear passenger seat window confirmed the presence of dead bodies, and several, based on how they spilled out of the foot well and onto the seat.
Backing away quickly, my heart began tripping over itself as the saliva disappeared from my mouth. My eyes squeezed shut. The wind, keeping up with the tension of the moment, picked up and began pulling at my hair, trying to loosen it from its stiff bun on top of my head.
Thunder boomed like cannons above, making me jump. The wind was ferocious now, roughing me up, as if sensing my fear, pissed that I stood frozen instead of getting back over to the car to verify the identities of the dead stacked inside.
Who would I find in there? What would I do if I found—
I shook my head and opened my eyes. Just do it, for fucks sake! Walk your ass over there, I commanded my legs. My knees remained locked, feet glued to the ground.
Rain began pelting me.
Dammit! I needed to do this and get back to Mickey, who was waiting for me in the house, probably worrying because I was taking so long. The fat drops were making hollow ting sounds when they hit the car. Quickly the sound became a symphony as the rain slanted, battering the hood and roof and trunk and side of the sedan as I stood there, heart and limbs quivering with fear.
DO IT YOU COWARD!
The steel inside me finally responded.
Moving one leg and then the other, I marched six of the hardest steps I’d ever taken. Arriving at the car, I allowed no hesitation. Wrenching open the rear door, I stared into the backseat like I had laser beams for eyes, able to burn away the image if needed. My hand flew up and pinched my nose shut, covering my mouth at the same time, as the smell trapped inside the car exploded out and attacked me before being carried away by the wind and rain.
There appeared to be four bodies stacked in the back. My shoulders eased with each one identified: Cheeto, Darth, Butcher, and on the bottom…shit, I couldn’t quite tell. Having no choice, I braced my hands on the car, sticking my foot in as I moved Butcher’s beefy arm out of the way with the tip of my boot. Leaning in, I angled my head…and then backed out fast, slamming the door shut. My body sagged against the car, letting the wind and rain have its way with me.
It was Todd, aka Clutch. And he was right where he belonged—dead on the bottom of a corpse pile. The awful dread that had clenched my gut for the past several hours released.
They were alive.
Lifting my face skyward, I smiled at the storm. A wild laugh burst out as I blinked the rain out of my eyes.
They were alive!