Chapter 18
Kristy got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Half a block away the chilly wind shifted direction and was now blowing directly in their faces.
But it wasn’t the cold which bothered her.
It was the vague scent carried on the wind.
A vague stench of death she’d smelled a hundred times now, and knew she’d never get used to it.
It assaulted her nostrils like a freight train hitting her square in the face.
Angela said, “Oh, crap!” and Kristy knew she’d caught the stench as well.
Still, she knew, they were several houses away from their destination.
Odds were it was coming from one of the other houses close by her friend’s place.
As they passed by each house, though, the smell didn’t dissipate.
It got progressively stronger and more and more putrid.
By the time they walked upon the porch to Melissa’s house Kristy was openly bawling.
This was almost too much for her to handle.
Her life was crap.
She’d just gotten over the worst few days of her life.
She was threatened by a man with a knife.
She’d assumed it was to rob her. But maybe it was something else he wanted.
She didn’t wait to find out. She defended herself and killed a human being.
She didn’t doubt herself. She knew she wasn’t guilty of murder. Not in the eyes of the law, anyway.
God’s eyes? She wasn’t so sure.
She’d gone through a deep dark depression for several days.
Now she was back.
Only to find out one of the only two people she considered a friend had disappeared, probably forever.
And that the other was likely dead.
She walked up the steps to the house where she’d once visited Melissa.
There was no mistaking it.
This was the house the horrid smell was emanating from.
A front window was broken but was still closed.
Kristy examined it to see it was still latched from the inside.
She knew that most scavengers carried hammers with them. They used the hammers to break windows, without having to risk the cuts they sometimes got by punching the window or hitting it with a rock.
Once the window was broken it was just a matter of reaching inside and unlocking the latch, then raising the window and climbing in.
Whoever broke this window never went that far.
Kristy guessed the window was broken not long after… whoever… died inside.
The stench would have been much less a few days after death than a few weeks or months later.
Maybe the scavenger didn’t smell the decaying corpse until he broke the window. Then the unmistakable and stomach-turning smell came rushing out at him.
He likely said, “No way,” and went off in search of another house which didn’t smell so retched.
Now, weeks or months later, the stench encompassed the entire block.
“I’m not sure I can go in there,” Kristy told her sister.
After a brief pause Angie answered. “I’ll go first if you want.”
Angie didn’t want to go either.
But she knew they had to, because she knew her sister.
If they left without verifying Melissa’s death the not knowing would drive Kristy crazy.
She’d lie in bed at night unable to sleep, her mind a twisted jumble of “what-ifs.”
What if Melissa’s mom died but Melissa was still alive, maybe too heartbroken to bury her mother and living with the putrid corpse instead?
That actually happened a year before the blackout in the nearby town of Schertz.
It was a very well publicized case. All over the network news. An elderly man woke up one morning to find his wife dead beside him. Together they’d celebrated sixty one anniversaries together, and he couldn’t bear to be without her.
Instead of reporting her death and seeing her carted away he picked a bouquet of roses from her garden and placed them on her chest.
Then he placed a sheet over her.
Every night for weeks he lay beside her and slept.
Because it was wintertime and he kept the house rather cool, the inevitable decay of the body was slowed but not stopped.
As each day went by the stench grew a little stronger.
But because he never left the house except for church, he grew more or less used to it as it gradually became almost overwhelming.
When the police showed up at his door a month after her death, explaining that the neighbors were complaining about a bad smell, he claimed to know nothing about it.
The police, slammed in the face by the smell as soon as the door opened, knew better.
The man was not arrested. That would have added insult to injury and he’d suffered enough.
Besides, the police chief explained at a press conference, “Mr. Harper is guilty only of loving her so much he couldn’t bear to see her go.”
Mrs. Harper was buried in a nearby cemetery, and Mr. Harper visited her grave every single day.
But only for thirty seven days.
On the thirty eighth he didn’t show up for church services.
His pastor asked local police to conduct a “well check,” as it was very unusual for Mr. Harper to miss church and not answer his phone.
Police found him dead in his bed, clutching a photo of his dear wife, as he’d done every night since she was taken away.
“I’m only surprised it took him so long to go to her,” a neighbor told a news reporter. “It was obvious he gave up on living after she passed away. He wanted to die. He wanted to be with her.”
Chapter 19
Kristy didn’t think her friend Melissa was so devoted to her mother she’d live with her corpse.
But then again, Mr. Harper’s neighbors were surprised when he did that very thing.
If she left the house without seeing for herself what was inside she’d have wondered for a very long time.
She reached inside the broken pane of glass and unlocked the window, then raised it up all the way.
She looked at Angie, who said nothing but nodded her head. It was her confirmation that she was ready to follow if Kristy led the way.
Kristy took a deep breath. As bad as the smell was on the porch it would be much worse inside. It was the freshest air she’d breathe for the next half hour.
She crawled through the window.
It was very dark inside.
She reached for the drapes covering the window and pulled hard.
They came falling down, rod and all.
It was one of the ways of the new world.
People in occupied houses darkened the windows as much as possible, thinking it would keep prowlers and robbers away.
Usually it worked quite well, for the more timid of the robbers wouldn’t attack a house where they might be outgunned.
They wouldn’t want to charge into a house, only to find out there were ten armed men inside.
Those who would break in to such houses were usually new to the game and not smart enough to figure out such a practice might be dangerous. Or they might be so desperate for something to eat or drink they just take a chance. And if by chance they get killed in the process?
Well, at least they won’t have to worry about being hungry or thirsty any more.
The only other time a robber or prowler might break into a house when he couldn’t see through the windows?
If they knew in advance who lived there and if they knew them to be vulnerable.
Such was the case with this house.
Kristy was puzzled at first at the condition of the house.
It had always been clean, every time she saw it.
Melissa’s mother was a fastidious housekeeper. One of those people who dusted every day and who kept everything in its place.
As they went from room to room tearing curtains from the windo
ws, she could see that some rooms were still like that.
Most of the rooms, in fact, were neat as a pin.
It was only the first room they’d entered, the den, and the two rooms adjacent to the den, that had witnessed whatever hell took place here.
Several pieces of furniture were overturned. Things which once upon a time were sitting on tables were strewn about on the floor.
A bookcase had been knocked over. Books were everywhere.
A candy dish which was once full of butter mints was shattered into a hundred pieces.
Blood spatter stained three of the four walls.
Melissa’s body was strewn across the couch. She was completely naked, her head twisted horribly, her neck obviously broken.
At least she was dead or close to it when they assaulted her body. Hopefully she was unaware of the dreadful things they’d done to her.
Her poor mother, it appeared, hadn’t died so quickly.
She lay upon the floor in a twisted heap, also completely naked.
They hadn’t broken her neck, though.
Her skull was crushed, hit several times with something very hard.
A homicide detective would have figured out in minutes what happened here.
Kristy and Angela, not being trained in criminal matters, took a little longer.
A blue bra, which could have belonged to either of them, lay upon the floor, its wire hooks stretched almost straight. It wasn’t taken off. It was pulled off during a struggle.
A pair of pink panties confirmed the struggle. They were stretched out of shape and the outer seam on one leg was ripped apart.
A bloody baseball bat lay not far from the mother’s body.
Somebody, or maybe several somebodies, not only ravaged these women, they brutally murdered them when they were finished.
After every room had sunlight to expose its secrets they walked around the place and inspected it more closely.
Angie took two sheets from the linen closet and covered each of the bodies completely.
She wasn’t sure why, exactly.
She knew they were long gone and long past caring.
Perhaps it was to return to them some of the modesty and dignity they lost when they were left on display in such a manner.
Perhaps it was because Angie, if it had been her, would have wanted her nakedness covered up.
It was a small gesture which did no one any real good at all.
But it was all Angie could do under the circumstances.
She even spoke to them as she covered them.
“I wish I could bring you back. I wish I could punish the animals that did this to you. I’ll let God care for you now, and take His vengeance on your killers. Hopefully this restores some of your dignity.”
Kristy had even fewer words.
“Melissa didn’t deserve this. She was the sweetest girl ever.”
Chapter 20
She finished her walk-through of the house. To make sure they were alone. To make sure there were no other victims. To try to make sense of it all.
She told Angela, “They knew whoever did this.”
“What? How do you know?”
“All the windows were locked from the inside. The back door was locked when the killer or killers left and pulled it closed behind them.
“If someone had broken in it would have had to have been through the broken window. But most of the glass was still in the frame and the window was still latched.
“No, the killer didn’t come through the window. He came through the door. And he didn’t force his way in because the door’s not damaged.
“They let him in. They knew him.”
She went to the bloody baseball bat and picked it up, then threw it across the room in a rage.
“There was only one of them. There’s only one murder weapon. And it was someone they knew and trusted. Otherwise they wouldn’t have let him in.
“He raped Melissa first, probably while her mother pleaded with him to stop. When he was finished with her he broke her neck. He didn’t have to do that. He got what he wanted.
“But he broke her neck anyway. Not out of spite, and not out of rage, but rather to protect his identity.
“Because they knew him. They could have told the police. Or their friends, or maybe even his friends.
“He killed Melissa so she couldn’t tell.
“And when her mother watched Melissa die, she had to have known she was next. He couldn’t let her stay alive not only as a witness to Melissa’s rape but to her murder as well.
“At that point she knew she was doomed.
“That’s why there’s blood all over the walls. He chased her around, swinging the bat. And eventually she fell, right there, and he finished her off by crushing her skull.
“And when he left, he simply pulled the locked door closed behind him”
“But why would he do all that if it was unnecessary?”
“To protect himself. From being exposed, from being punished. From having to pay for what he did to them.”
She went to the garage but it was too dark to see her way around. There were no windows to allow sunlight in.
She went back to the living room and took a small decorative candle off one of the few tables which wasn’t overturned. Next to the candle was a disposable lighter.
She supposed it was the candle Melissa and her mother used to light their way as they walked through the house in pitch blackness.
She lit it and went back to the garage.
She returned a couple of minutes later with a shovel.
“Kristy, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to dig a grave for them. We couldn’t save them from whatever monster did this to them, but we can make sure they don’t suffer any more indignities. If we leave them here, eventually they’ll turn to bones. The smell will fade. Somebody will come in here and may kick their bones or step on them.
“They deserve better than that. They deserve a proper burial.”
“Have you ever dug a grave?”
“Are you kidding? I don’t think I’ve ever dug a hole. I don’t think I’ve ever used a shovel before. But I’ve seen people do it. It didn’t look that hard.”
It was. That hard, that is.
The soil in San Antonio is full of clay. And what isn’t clay is very rocky.
It’s not a type of soil suitable for any type of digging.
In addition, it had recently rained for several straight days.
Just a couple of inches beneath the surface Kristy hit mud.
It wasn’t the best idea she ever had.
But then again, it could have been worse. A couple of weeks later the ground would freeze. Then, on top of everything else she had to deal with, it would have been hard as a rock.
By the end of that first day, she’d dug a single grave about three feet deep.
And that wouldn’t do.
The following day they came back.
This time they brought food with them instead of heading out with empty packs.
Kristy felt she’d left her friend down.
“I should have come to check on them sooner. I could have prevented this.”
Angela, the first time Kristy spouted such nonsense, tried to debate her.
“Kristy, you didn’t do this. You’re not responsib…”
She didn’t get all her words out before Kristy cut her off. Told her to shut up, and that she didn’t know what she was talking about.
“What do you know about the ways of the world now? You’re just a snotty little kid.”
That wasn’t the way Kristy normally spoke to her. Kristy was usually quite kind to her sister. Quite patient and considerate too.
Angela knew not to blame her for her behavior. She knew she was in a very bad place. She knew her sister was struggling with grief and guilt and all kinds of other emotions.
She stopped arguing and instead gave Kristy her space. But she also wanted to show she was there for her.
Digging the grave was slow going for Kristy.
The going was even slower for little Angela, who weighed no more than sixty pounds soaking wet and with rocks in her pockets.
Still, she made the effort.
Every time Kristy put the shovel aside to take a break, Angie picked it up and hopped into the hole.
Each scoop she managed was meager indeed, at most a couple of cupfuls of dirty muddy muck.
But it was the effort which counted and Kristy appreciated it.
By the end of the second day Kristy pronounced the project done.
It wasn’t a proper grave by any means.
But it was deep enough.
They wrapped the bodies in blankets and dragged them out, placing them both into the grave and then covering them up.
Once done, Kristy stood over them and made them a promise.
“With God as my witness, I will find out who did this to you, and I will make them pay.”
Chapter 21
That night, back at their own place, Kristy had an epiphany.
She was curled up beneath a heavy blanket, trying to stay warm in a bitter cold house, and she remembered one particular visit to Melissa’s house.
Melissa showed her a diary she kept, and let her read an entry she was writing about a boy from school. A particularly repugnant creep named Derek.
And it dawned on her. She might have kept using that diary, long after the power went out and she likely never saw Derek again.
And maybe, just maybe, she wrote something in that diary which might help Kristy identify her killer.
When they walked out of Melissa’s house after burying her friend and her mother Kristy had no intention of ever going back.
But she was serious about avenging her friend’s death. Without having any of the resources a homicide detective might have at his disposal.
No DNA evidence, no fingerprint evidence. No eyewitness testimony. Nothing.
Yet she promised Melissa she’d not only find the man responsible, but would make him pay for what he’d done to them.
Then she started to wonder, of all the things in the world she might think about, why she’d remember that diary.
She told Angie the next morning, “There are many mysteries in this world we just don’t understand. How a dog lost on one end of the country can make his way back home at the other end.
An Unwelcome Homecoming Page 7