What Tangled Webs

by Dan Dillard

  *

  I don't know where my children are now. A social worker came and took them that night. I'm sure they are with grandparents. Her parents, not mine. Mine want nothing to do with me, although I’m sure they visit the children.

  There was no trial. I plead guilty and told them I was happy to do it, that I would do it again a hundred times. That bitch conjured up some creature to eat me and I killed her as my way of saying thanks.

  They locked me up in this place for a long time—probably forever. I don't know. It's a nice enough place. We have games and cable and the food is ok. I even like my room. I have a comfortable bed and my own books to read. If I had one complaint, it would be that tiny spot on the ceiling.

  ..ooOOoo..

  BRIAR TRACE

  THE POLICE CRUISER rolled along on its beat like a shark sniffing for blood. Sheriff Joe Landry drove, a rare thing for the sheriff to take a patrol but he’d been antsy at his desk. Small town life. Morning traffic meant no hassle and everything was on autopilot until the call came.

  “Joe, you out there? This is Trudy,” he heard over the radio.

  Joe eyed the thing and then eyed his coffee. He drank his coffee. The radio squawked again.

  “Joe?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes as he gripped the mic, careful not to push the button just yet.

  “Unprofessional. Dumb bitch is unprofessional. ‘Car number, dispatch’ is all you gotta say. Damn.”

  Then he pressed the button.

  “Yeah, Trudy, I’m here.”

  “We’ve got a complaint over on Briar Trace about a child being left alone in a house for a long period of time? I don’t have any other details,” she said.

  “You got a house number?”

  “One-zero-three-three-two.”

  He scribbled that down on a notepad that lay in the front seat next to him.

  “At least you did that right,” he said, again before keying the mic, then, “Who called it in?”

  “Anonymous.”

  “Thanks, Trudy.”

  He pulled the cruiser into a random driveway to turn around and put it in park for just a few seconds, a thing he enjoyed because he knew it made the homeowners nervous. A curtain blinked open, then closed again. Joe smiled and backed out to make his way to the call.

  No details usually meant domestic abuse or child abuse that an anonymous neighbor was tired of hearing while they ate their supper. That, or mom and dad were floating on heroin or meth somewhere and forgot they even had a kid. These things happened more often than he liked to think about. A quick stop for more coffee and he’d be right there as no details also meant no emergency.

  Joe filled up and then sipped from the Styrofoam cup. He glanced at his notebook, then drove to 10332 Briar Trace.

  The neighborhood was older, small houses with little space in between them. Porches were empty. No houseplants, no signs of life, but cars in most of the driveways and along the street said otherwise. The house at 10332 was run down but not quite ready for condemnation.

  “At least they mowed the yard,” he said as he exited the car.

  That meant someone who lived there had been home recently recently or at least paid someone to keep up appearances. Rules out heavy drugs. He exaggerated his sheriff’s walk up to the porch in case anyone was watching and didn’t take off his sunglasses until he knocked, using the same hand to do both.

  “Hello?” he yelled. “This is Sheriff Landry. Everyone ok in there?”

  He listened for a moment and peered in the window to the left of the door. No sound, nothing moving. The furniture was still in place in that room, a standard living area. He moved to the window on the right side of the door, cupped his hand to cover his own reflection and took another look.

  “I’ll be damned,” he mumbled.

  The dining room he saw was destroyed. At least three of the chairs were knocked over and broken to splinters, the carpet was filthy and something was smeared on the table and walls. It looked like human waste. He hoped it was food from a rowdy birthday party, but it looked like shit. He thumped on the window with his knuckles and something scurried from the room in a blur. It could’ve been a child, or maybe…

  “Animal? Folks on vacation and something got in, I bet.”

  He checked the perimeter, looking for shattered windows, open vents or maybe a pet door. The garage door had a row of windows which he was tall enough to see through. Using his Mag-Lite, he saw that like the driveway, it was free of cars. A lawnmower sat in the corner and various tools and boxes lined the storage shelving which covered one wall. Joe walked around the side of the home to a small, fenced backyard and unlatched the chain-link gate. A few scattered toys and some dead potted plants adorned a concrete patio. A homemade tire swing hung from a giant maple tree and swayed in the light breeze. The wind picked up and slammed the screen door on the back of the house catching his attention and stopping his heart for a moment.

  “Shit.”

  He took a deep breath and realized his hand had found the butt of his sidearm and laughed a wheezy laugh.

  “Calm down, cowboy.”

  He walked across the small concrete slab to inspect the screen door and found its wire mesh torn loose and hanging like a hound dog’s ear from the last piece of attached spline.

  “Joe?” said Trudy through his radio.

  Joe froze and turned bright red with anger at being startled yet again.

  “What?” he whispered sternly.

  “You find anything? You’re supposed to radio in when you get to the location,” Trudy said like a mother scolding an errant teen.

  “I’m here,” he said and turned the radio off. “If anyone else wondered where I was, I’m here…in the backyard.”

  The door to the back of the house was ajar and the odor of sweat and piss was leaking through the opening. The scene didn’t sit well with him. Wild animal or not, something was wrong with that home on Briar Trace. He opened the screen carefully and set the small latch on the pneumatic closer to hold it in place. Then he pushed on the wooden door with his flashlight. It opened into a kitchen.

  “Anybody home? Sheriff!” he shouted.

  The smell was powerful and he winced as it grew. Sunlight through the now open door revealed a linoleum floor covered in food, urine and fecal matter. All of it was tracked with tiny human footprints and smeared about like a finger painting.

  “What in the hell,” Joe said and tipped his hat back on his forehead.

  Something rumbled in another room. He gripped his weapon and drew it from its holster, keeping the barrel aimed at the floor. With his face scrunched by the foul odor, he tiptoed through the kitchen, trying to find clean places on the floor to step. The grime continued into a short hallway that led into the den. Toys lay on the floor in a haphazard manner, each covered in the same filth as the rest of the home.

  “Hello?” he shouted one more time.

  Shuffling noises came from his right, behind the couch. Joe turned, weapon at the ready. He sidestepped with care and put one hand on the arm of the sofa. Whatever it was, it was small. He leaned slowly and saw a head of greasy brown hair.

  “Who’s there?” he said gently.

  There were more shuffling noises and a whimper as the creature backed further into its hiding spot. Those noises didn’t come from any animal. There was a kid back there. Joe slid the side of the couch toward the center of the room to reveal a small boy huddled there, covered in muck from head to toe. The boy looked up with bright blue eyes. Joe thought of his own grandson who was close to the same age and his heart swelled with sympathy. Joe reached his hand out slowly and the boy screamed and bolted from his hiding spot. It was less a scream of fear and more a primal war-cry. An attempt at intimidation. The child disappeared from the den and headed toward the kitchen, full sprint.

  “Fuck me,” Joe whispered and rubbed his head, the third shock to his system in ten minutes.

  The old cop walked carefully toward th
e back of the home and spoke easily trying to calm the boy.

  “I’m here to help, son. I won’t hurt you. Where are your parents?”

  The little boy growled and howled again.

  “Easy, son. Your parents? Maybe you live with your grandma? Or a big brother?”

  The boy looked to be about six years old, surely he could speak? Maybe he didn’t speak English.

  “Are you hungry? Can I get you cleaned up?” Joe asked, and pantomimed the act of eating.

  The word hungry registered as the child eased around the corner. Joe stood in the doorway between the entry hall and the kitchen.

  “Hungry? You want some food? You want to get cleaned up—away from this stench?” he asked. “Come on, I’ll even let you turn on the siren,” he said.

  “Siren,” the boy said.

  “Yep, siren,” said Joe, and smiled at the breakthrough. “Is there anyone else home?”

  The boy just stared at him.

  He wanted to check the rest of the home—maybe this kid’s grandma was dead upstairs—but didn’t want to risk the child bolting again, risk another minute staying in that house until it was cleaned up. And if no one was home, and they left that little boy alone, well, that kind of asshole could rot in prison and he’d be glad to drop the kid off with CPS. He grabbed a rain jacket from the trunk of his cruiser, wrapped it around the boy and then sat him in the front seat, buckling him in.

  “Tru, it’s Joe. I’ve got the boy and am on my way to the station. Can you run next door and grab some food and maybe some juice? This kid’s a mess.”

  “Mess!” the little boy said and smiled.

  “Will do, sheriff.”

  There was a pause before Trudy spoke again.

  “Um, sheriff…What do you want me to get?” she said.

  He looked at the kid and puzzled for a minute.

  “I Dunno. Kid-food, I guess.”

  “Kid food,” she repeated.

  The radio went silent and Joe looked at the child who looked back at him with hopeful eyes.

  “You got a name, kid?” Joe asked.

  “Mess!” the little boy said.

  “That suits you, but I can’t call you that. How about Sport for now?”

  “Sport!” the boy announced and looked at all the buttons and switches on the console.

  Joe chuckled.

  “All right,” he said. “Push this one.”

  Sport slowly reached a finger out and pressed the switch until it snapped down with a click. The siren wailed and squawked and warbled. At first, it startled the boy, but then his smile stretched from ear to ear and he giggled with glee.

  “Trudy, send Ron and the new guy out here. I didn’t check upstairs…didn’t want to leave the kid alone once I found him and didn’t know what we might find up there. Gave me a bad feeling. Anyway, I want them up that place’s ass until we figure out who’s supposed to be taking care of the kid. Don’t really need one, but I’ll get a warrant later this morning to make it official.”

  “Will do, sheriff,” she answered.

  They took the back roads driving to the station and Sport ran the siren all the way into the parking lot. Joe cut the engine and skirted the edge of the patrol car as he made his way to the passenger door to let the kid out. Trudy was walking back from the store with a bag of goodies and a festive outfit on.

  “Always a ray of sunshine, huh?” Joe said and gave her a wink.

  “Try to be. Who’s this handsome lad?”

  “For now, I’m callin’ him Sport. He can talk, but doesn’t seem to want to.”

  “Siren!” Sport said.

  “So I see,” Trudy said and smiled at the boy.

  She noticed his strong aroma and the filth that was covering him under the brown raincoat that said “Sheriff” on the back in large yellow letters. She wrinkled her nose and handed the groceries to the sheriff.

  “Come on, Sport. Let’s get you cleaned up,” she said and took him by the hand.

  “Thanks Trudy,” Joe said, following her inside the station. “You send Ron out with the new guy?”

  “They just left. I’m gonna take him back to the shower and hose him off. You mind sitting here for a few minutes in case the phone rings?” she asked.

  “Nope. I’m starving,” Joe said. “I’ll just inspect these groceries.”

  He set the bag on the counter and washed his hands in the small bathroom to the right. Inside the bag, Joe found bananas and sandwich stuff. He grabbed a roll and the small jar of peanut butter and made a quick snack to eat at his desk while he finished his coffee.

  A million questions danced through his head about the boy and what shitty parents he must have. How long had the kid’s parents been gone that the house was in that condition? He logged into the computer terminal and punched in the address. No prior calls. Owned by one Rhonda Kachur, sixty-two years old. No mention of a husband or other family.

  “Must be her grandson,” he said. “I bet that woman had a stroke or a heart attack and he’s been running wild ever since.”

  He heard the water come on in the back near the jail cells and then the delighted squeals of Sport who sounded as if he enjoyed getting doused. That water always took a while to warm up, if it ever did. He chuckled and went back to his sandwich. Trudy was a good woman with kids of her own—a dumb bitch sometimes, but a good woman. Sport was in good hands.

  Sip of coffee, bite of sandwich, sip of coffee. Joe looked at his watch and listened for the sound of water rushing through the old pipes.

  Still bathing.

  “Kid was a shit-covered mess, I suppose,” he said and popped the last of the sandwich in his mouth.

  The CB crackled on the desk.

  “Trudy?” it said.

  It was Ron. New guy probably puked from the smell in the house and he was calling in to have a laugh.

  “Nah. It’s Joe, Ron, what’s up? Rookie honkin’ from the stench?”

  “Sheriff, what the hell happened here? You didn’t see the body?” Ron said.

  Joe turned pale.

  “No. No body. I found a…”

  There was an odd noise from the back, a squeal? It distracted Joe for a moment.

  “Sheriff?” Ron said.

  Joe keyed the mike. “Is it an old woman?”

  Ol’ Rhonda did keel over.

  “Sorta.” Ron replied.

  “What the hell does that mean, sorta?”

  “She’s shriveled, Sheriff, like she’s been here a while. She covered in bite marks and it sounds fuckin’ crazy but I think she’s got… wings?”

  Joe wanted to tell Ron to watch his mouth on the CB, but then word sunk in.

  “Did you say, wings?” he asked

  “Yessir,” Ron said.

  Joe’s head was a step or two behind what he was hearing and couldn’t catch up.

  “What sort of thing looks like a woman and has wings? And what the fuck sort of thing eats it?” Ron asked, his voice wavering.

  Another squeal, but weaker…and gurgling.

  Joe dropped the handset and shoved Trudy’s rolling chair back from the desk. His head swam as he stumbled around the counter toward the back where the water was on and trickling from the shower room onto the ceramic tile of the hallway. There was a tinge of pink in the water and the joyous laughter of childhood was conspicuously absent. In the background, he heard the CB.

  “Sheriff? Sheriff? Joe, are you there?”

  Joe saw Sport huddled, still nude, over top of Trudy’s body. He was certain she was already dead by the display of chewed organ meat and intestine that was rolling on the waves of water which poured from the hose. Her innards had clogged the drain and caused the water to spill over the shower’s lip and run into the hallway. Briefly, Joe thought of her children and a tear fell from his eye.

  He unsnapped his sidearm. The small popping sound was enough to alert Sport of his presence and the chewing ceased. The boy cocked his head sideways like a curious dog. His once adorable
button nose was now slotted and pushed up like a bat, and his teeth were honed to bloody points. A flap of skin hung from his lips. Cold black eyes leered at Joe as he drew his gun. On the boys back were two protruding nubs, the sawed off remains of what might once have been wings. Sport hissed at Joe and then returned to its meal, turning his back like a hyena that was guarding its carrion.

  The Sheriff raised the weapon and aimed for the boy creature’s head. He said a quick prayer in his own. Then out loud he muttered, “Forgive me,” and pulled the trigger. The noise was deafening. Sport’s head exploded in a violent flash of red and his small misshapen form slumped over Trudy’s corpse. Blood swirled in the water that poured from the wounds of both. In the background the CB still chattered.

  “Sheriff? It says ‘Grandma’ on the wall. Looks like it’s written in shit… you find a kid here anywhere?”

  ..ooOOoo..

  WHAT TANGLED WEBS

  IT WASN’T THE tunnel or the dark, damp squeeze it provided, but the spiders that made her nervous. She controlled her breathing and felt the ground ahead of her before pressing on. There seemed to be no lack of oxygen, but the further she moved, the less light filtered in around her. The tunnel had closed in so tight, she had no way to turn around and no way to back track until she found a larger section where she could turn around. She had slid most of the way down the steep grade and then crawled until it began to level off.

  Tiny feet danced across her skin and shivers followed them wherever they went. They were in her hair and on her face, tickling the corners of her lips, the rims of her nostrils…her earlobes. They crawled into her skirt and across her thighs, down her shirt and into her cleavage. She felt them squish as she shifted her weight, wriggling through the tunnel. When she could reach, she brushed them away. The rest of the time, she cried, cursed and did her best to blow them out of her face like errant strings of loose hair.

  She wondered if they could see where they were going in the failing light, or if they moved by another sense. Images of spiders flashed through her mind although she wasn’t sure all that walked on her body were spiders. What she was sure of, was that they were getting larger as she moved deeper into the earth...and she no longer cared about that stupid ring.

  ..ooOOoo..

  Four hours earlier…

  THEY STOOD IN the bedroom, looking into a full length mirror. He was behind her and she looked lovely, sexy—beautiful—but his eyes were on his reflection, not hers.

  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  She didn’t. He was an awful person. Awful to her. Awful to everyone. Egotistical, rude, and judgmental. What he did have was money, and loads of it. To him, she was another object. A pretty thing he wore much like that ridiculous watch or the sporty, red penis-extension he drove around in. He surrounded himself with things that said look at me and how fantastic I am. Notice me. I am better than you are in every way.

  “Yes,” she said.

  She had a plan. He would provide for her while she finished her degree and then she would leave him and take her winnings. Independently wealthy by the age of thirty would give her time to marry for love before her looks started to fail. It was a shallow plan perhaps, but a plan nonetheless, and so far everything was working.

  “Is that so?” he asked and cupped one of her breasts through her clothing and squeezed.

  “Most definitely,” she lied.

  He was handsome, muscular, and the sex wasn’t so bad. It was infrequent, and only ever lasted long enough to fulfill his needs. She didn’t mind taking care of her own.

  “Then I want you to marry me.”

  That shocked her.

  “So soon?” she said.

  “We’re wasting time, and you aren’t getting any younger,” he said.

  Such an asshole.

  She grinned for his benefit. In her head, she heard her mother telling her, “There are plenty of nice men out there, dear.” Every conversation was the same.

  But the nice ones work themselves to death and leave nothing…just like dad.

  She thought those words, but never spoke them aloud to her mother. It wasn’t fair to resent her father for having a heart attack without decent insurance or any sort of retirement. But resent him, she did.

  He was holding up a ring—a big, shiny bastard. She didn’t notice at first, and was still lost in thought. When she did notice, she grabbed his hand for a closer look. The dramatic reaction she knew he wanted. There was nothing amazing about the ring, but she knew it had been expensive.

  “It’s lovely,” she said.

  “Of course it is. It cost more than your car,” he answered.

  Prick.

  “All for me?” she asked, choking back the urge to puke.

  Her saving grace was that he traveled constantly. She thought she might go with him to the exotic locations and play with the locals and other rich boys. For less interesting trips, she would stay home and work on her degree…on her career. She was less than six years away from her PhD.

  She slipped on the ring and smiled her practiced smile. The one that showed him contentment and the one she used when she wanted to look impressed with his monetary conquests. At least he wasn’t physically abusive. That she wouldn’t stand for.

  “Of course I’ll marry you!” she said and fell into his arms, all the while eyeing the giant, ugly diamond and all the little diamonds around it.

  “Great. We’ll fly somewhere and get it taken care of next month. I have some free time then.”

  He smacked her on the ass and left to go wherever it was he went. She really hated him. It made it easier to use him for his money. Her wedding now scheduled—penciled in was a better expression—there was only her future to think about…six more years. She stared at the ring for another moment. It was too big for her finger. She needed to have it sized right away.

  She walked across the living room to the French doors that opened onto a sprawling terrace and decided to go for a walk. Second guesses and guilt ran through her. It wasn’t too late to reconsider. She could leave the ring, run back home and then try a more traditional life, maybe find a man like her father and live with love even if it wasn’t as comfortable.

  The grass on her bare feet and the sun on her skin felt good. Before she realized it, she was along the back of the property some quarter mile from the house and she was staring a stately oak tree right in the trunk.

  “Day dreaming,” she said with a smile.

  She laughed, spun the ring on her finger absently and walked around the tree. As she went, the ring twirled loose from her fingers and rolled onto the ground. She reached down to grab it and her groping fingers accidentally knocked it into a hole.

  “Shit,” she whispered.

  Moving to get out of the sun’s light allowed her to see further into the opening. The ring dangled on thin roots that stuck out of the dirt wall inside. She leaned and reached her arm to the shoulder trying to reach it, but was not quite long enough. She backed out and looked again. It appeared to be no more than an inch or two from her grasp. She would have to lean just a bit further. Taking stock of the situation, she looked back at the house and considered running back for a tool of some sort but decided to give it one more try.

  Grasping one of the old oak’s thick roots that ran along the surface of the ground with one hand, she stuck her other arm first into the hole, followed by her head and tried to keep a ray or two of sunshine handy to see the ring. A squirm here and a shimmy there and she had a hand on it. Then her other hand slipped. Sliding headfirst through the moist opening, she stopped after about fifteen feet with a grunt.

  “Shit!” she said.

  Her body blocked most of the light from above, but the blood rushing to her face told her she was still inverted. She tried to push herself backwards, but it was like walking up a ladder on her hands. At least she had found the ring.

  Working her other arm forward, she began to pull herself deeper into the hole. She thought there might be a larg
er spot, maybe a cave opening where she could turn around and climb out head first. Or maybe there was another exit. That’s when the first spider crawled across her hand.

  SWAT!

  She screamed as she smacked it.

  “Ahh!” she yelled at the dead thing and brushed it from her forearm.

  The dark splat mark on her arm was about the size of a quarter. She couldn’t make out anything else in the dim light.

  ..ooOOoo..

  THE SPIDERS BIT her flesh, but their venom had no effect aside from an itchy burn. She continued further and cursed each and every one of them. Moist earth rubbed against her legs and kept those bites soothed. More spiders were in her hair and those bites were maddening. Dozens more crawled on her body.

  Finally, the tunnel opened into a small clearing. She rolled into the opening and became encased in web. It covered her, tangling in her eyelashes and tickling her ears. She brushed off what she could and shuddered. She huddled in a ball for just a moment, her arms wrapped around her knees, glad to be upright. Very little of the light from the hole in her future backyard trickled down, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw the floor of the cave. It was alive with eight-legged activity. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, scurried about tending to their spiderly duties. The situation grabbed hold of her and she was frozen in place. Paralyzed.

  Spiders covered her feet. Their squished bodies under her toes made slight popping sounds as she shifted. They were quite a bit larger than the first one she smacked, maybe three inches across their backs. Their shiny abdomens rolled and boiled like water around her. She gripped the huge diamond ring in her hand. It slipped onto her thumb easily as she prayed for safety. Her prayers were instead answered, but not by any god with which she was familiar.

  Something with real weight put its feet on her lower back and began to climb her body. It couldn’t be a spider, she thought. It felt like a cat hanging from her clothes. She couldn’t move. Two legs turned into four, and then six. Finally she felt her dress tugging under its weight and then the claws on the creatures feet were digging into her skin and slowly making their way up her back. Her breathing was shallow and even with her eyes opened comically wide, she couldn’t see the animal.

  Once all eight legs were on her, the creature stretched from her waist to the tops of her shoulders and continued to move upward until it perched on her left side. She felt the fangs plunge into her cheek and the pain was just the release she needed. She lurched forward with an ear-piercing shriek and after the creature tumbled from her shoulder, she punched at the beast with both fists. Then she launched her body toward the tunnel that had brought her to that hell and clawed her way out, grabbing handfuls of wet earth and roots and pulling herself back to the light.

  Above ground, she swatted at anything that seemed to move. A few of the smaller spiders still crawled inside her dress. She stripped all of her clothes off, down to bare skin, and screamed with tears flowing. Her hands continued to inspect her body for the small devils, finally reaching her cheek which was dripping blood. One fang was still lodged there, a fang as large as her little finger. The wound wasn’t painful, numbed by the venom, but it felt alien to her probing hands and made her sick to her stomach. She held the fang in her hand and stared at it in terror before tossing it into the woods. Leaving her clothes on the ground, she rushed back to the empty house.

  ..ooOOoo..

  A HOT SHOWER calmed her but wasn’t enough to cure the feeling of things crawling on her skin. She showered again. Then she faced the mirror for the first time. Her swollen cheek was the first thing she noticed. The wound there had turned black and the skin was tender and already necrotic and rotting, leaving a gaping sore. She touched it with a timid finger as she shook. Her beauty was a distant memory. Whoever stared back at her…wasn’t her. She examined a bite on her shoulder, then one on her right breast, one on her abdomen. Each had the same characteristics. Small pustules that appeared to be eating her flesh from the inside out. There were also several on her arms and her legs, a quick spin showed more on her back and buttocks. Her only relief was that the ring was still on her thumb.

  He would be home soon and wouldn’t stand for the lost ring. She was certain he would call the wedding off based on her wounds…based on her looks. Her fear changed to anger.

  “Bastard,” she said and heard a door shut.

  “Hello?” he said.

  He was somewhere downstairs.

  “Are you ready for dinner?”

  She didn’t answer. It was time to work up some tears, which wasn’t a problem given the circumstances. She quickly put on her robe to conceal her body from him. The hole in her face would be enough to turn him off, but should at least get her enough sympathy to go to the hospital.

  “I’m up here,” she stuttered as soon as the tears were flowing.

  He found her in the bathroom and stood astonished as he saw her face for the first time.

  “What happened to you?” he said.

  She wanted to lie, but couldn’t.

  “I fell. I dropped the ring in a hole and tried to reach it, but fell in.”

  She stammered like a child with a skinned knee.

  “Easy,” he said, his eyes focused on her black and blue cheek. “You mean you lost the ring?”

  Are you all right? Can I help in some way? Let me take you to the doctor? No, but make sure your fucking ring is safe.

  He hadn’t seen it on her thumb. She slid her hand in the pocket on the robe and eased it off. Then the lie came. The perfect lie.

  “I need to go to the hospital.”

  “Sure, sure,” he said. “I’ll get you to the hospital. Where did you drop the ring?”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out in a huff. He was too easy…falling into her trap.

  “I’ll show you, she said. You might want to bring a shovel.”

  “Fine. I’ll get the ring, then we’ll get you to the doctor,” he said.

  She led him to the yard by way of the gardener’s shed where he grabbed a shovel. Then he followed her to the back of the property where her dress lay in a puddle next to the hole. She kicked it into the woods and as usual, he didn’t notice.

  “It’s in there,” she said, pointing.

  “There? How’d it get in there?” he asked.

  She ignored the question.

  “It’s hanging on a piece of root. It was just out of my reach. I sliced my face open climbing back out,” she said.

  “Hold this,” he said and handed her the shovel.

  He leaned into the opening. After a quick inspection, he spoke.

  “I don’t see it. Go get me a flashlight,” he said, head still poked in the ground.

  “It was on the left, lean just a bit further, you should be able to feel for it.”

  He leaned just a bit further.

  “Nope, nothing here,” he said.

  She grinned and the wound on her cheek opened, weeping fluid that trickled down her face.

  “Let me help you,” she replied and put her foot on his backside, giving a hard shove.

  He slid into the hole just as she had. His feet disappeared completely from view.

  “What the hell you do that for?” he screamed.

  To her, it was muffled. Garbled nonsense. She laughed. He cursed her and she laughed. She pictured the spiders crawling on his body and she laughed.

  And as she put the expensive ring back on her thumb and tossed the first shovel full of dirt down the hole, she laughed.

  ..ooOOoo..

  THE’A’ WORD

  HE WATCHED THE attractive blonde woman as she walked from her townhouse stoop to the corner for a newspaper and some coffee. Her name was Kelly and she bounced, carrying herself as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She had no idea who was watching her, to her, he was a stranger.

  The smile plastered on her face made him angry deep inside his belly. All he could do was watch for now. She took no notice of him, nor of anything else.

  Ke
lly opened the door and bounded through, ponytail swaying from side to side. He couldn’t watch anymore, but he waited. Inside she popped the lid off of her coffee and sat on the couch to read the paper. Setting the cup on the end table, she grabbed one section and rattled it out like her father had always done, snapping the pages into submission. She then folded one corner down to leer at the ringing phone.

  “Hello?” she said, picking it up and hiding her displeasure.

  “Hey babe,” Brian said. “Just checkin’ on you.”

  “Ooh, I’m good. Wish you were here. I’m wearin’ those shorts you like!”

  “Stop. I have a meeting in ten minutes,” he laughed.

  “Mmm, maybe you can come home at lunch?” she asked in a sultry voice.

  “Not today, but tonight I’m all yours.”

  “I’ll take what I can get, I suppose.”

  “Hey you’re the one that wanted to retire and be a mom,” he scolded, jokingly.

  “I know. That’s why I want you home, so we can get to work.”

  “5:30. I promise. Be naked.”

  “Don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed, just drink plenty of water today,” she said.

  They exchanged I love you’s and hung up the phone. She eyed the coffee and then the refrigerator. Minutes later, Kelly had a plate with buttered toast and three different kinds of fruit and the newspaper was a thing of the past. She ate while she flipped channels looking for anything interesting. After breakfast it was time for a workout.

  Outside, he had lost interest in the pretty blonde—he knew her routine. At least for the time being, he had other things to do. He wandered down the sidewalk to the corner, waited for the walk light and then crossed the street. Six blocks away, there was another pretty lady who should be getting home any minute from dropping her kids off at school. Her hair was red.

  The stranger took to his usual perch and waited for the familiar silver SUV to roll to a stop in its usual parking place. Out stepped Ashley, red hair twirled into a bun, sunglasses hiding her brilliant blue eyes. He loved Ashley and had watched her for years. If Kelly made him furious, Ashley made him happy in an equal but opposite fashion. That fact aside, she had to die.

  She fumbled around for her purse, then a paper sack which had odds and ends from the grocery store. First came the slam of the driver’s door and then the familiar chirp-chirp of the vehicle’s security system and, as was also routine, she popped open the mailbox next to the front door and keyed the lock before walking inside. He knew it all by heart. It made it easier for him to traverse the road and scale the steps to her porch without worrying he would be noticed. He waited, counting to sixty which was long enough for her to disengage the alarm and get out of the foyer.

  Ever so slowly, he turned the doorknob, listened for the latch to pop free and then slowly shoved the door open, careful so its magnetic weather stripping didn’t make that popping sound. This course of events had been practiced to perfection. Many rehearsals for today’s performance. Shutting the door was much the same process, and afterward he ducked to the side to watch her put the groceries away. She crossed the doorway at the end of the hall several times as she did so.

  He heard the refrigerator door shut, then the cabinets, finally the crumpled folding of the paper bag that went into a special spot underneath the sink. The house smelled like litter box and coffee. Her next chore was to empty the cat’s toilet and spray something to mask the odor. That gave him just enough time to retrieve his weapon of choice.

  “Shit,” Ashley said.

  He heard her stomp from the living room into the kitchen. The sounds were unmistakable as she picked up the handset and pressed buttons on the phone. There was silence while she waited for someone to answer. The husband, Louis.

  “Hi,” she said.

  The stranger listened to half of the conversation.

  “You left your presentation. Yes. I’m holding it in my hand…Well, what time is your meeting?”

  “Well that’s good. Can you come home or do you need me to…Oh. Okay, that sounds like fun, what are you bringin’ me?” she asked, sporting a devilish grin. “I’ll be here. See you at noon.”

  She hung up the phone and went back to the litter box.

  How fortuitous to have them both in the same day.

  He would take his time with Ashley, making a special presentation for Louis. Once that bastard was standing in shock, mouth agape, unable to believe what he was seeing, it would be his turn to suffer. It was going to be a grand day, and that little mishap was going to save him hours. The smell of Lysol spray let him know that the time had come. Ashley was special, so her dispatching would be quick and painless. The display, however, had to look brutal, for Louis’ sake, because he was a motherfucker.

  ..ooOOoo..

  KELLY FINISHED HER five mile run on the treadmill and toweled off her forehead before starting her stretch. Her thirty two year old body didn’t snap back like it had when she was younger and her workout routines had become more rigorous. She wanted to be sexy for Brian when he came home. She wanted him to want her. The fact that she still caught second glances wherever she went wasn’t bad either.

  She peeled off her sweat-soaked clothes and climbed into the shower, washing her body slowly and methodically as she thought about her man. She wondered what their child might be like and smiled. She shaved all the important places and then turned off the water. Lotion soothed her skin and gave her that trademark scent that he loved. One towel obscured her from breasts to knees and a second one knotted on her head keeping her hair from dripping while she made a quick trip into the nursery.

  The walls were painted sky blue and a mobile hung over the crib in the corner. Everything was going to be perfect in their new family unit. She felt certain that a baby was the only thing that was missing from their lives. It would complete a bond that had grown for ten years. She took a deep, contented breath and went back to the bathroom to brush and dry her hair and then finished her morning routine. A tank top and pair of his boxer-briefs would do for now. She would put on something sexy when he called to tell her he was on his way.

  ..ooOOoo..

  THE STRANGER SLID into the kitchen as Ashley took the clean litter box back to the laundry room. He opened the drawer by the stove and found an angry looking knife which he knew would be there and suited his purpose. The array of weaponry in that drawer would be enough. He poised himself at the edge of the counter and placed a finger on the tip of the blade, twisting it gently against the digit. His mind was calm and centered on the task at hand.

  Ashley walked back to the kitchen oblivious to the stranger and was only startled by the open drawer. It was too late. Expertly he slid the knife across the side of her neck opening the artery. Her heart did the rest of the work, spilling her fluid onto the floor in pulsing spurts. She put a hand to the wound and fell to her knees. He stared at her as the color left her face. He watched her eyes question his identity, question his motive, question the whole situation. He watched as life slipped from her and he shed a single tear. After she was dead, he carved her into pieces for his display. For Louis.

  He checked the clock. There were still ninety minutes to make things perfect. Opening her gut, he let the organs and fluids spill into a garbage bag. It was a sad process, as he liked Ashley, this wasn’t her fault. The arms and legs were next and segmented naturally into three pieces each. Her head was last and became the centerpiece of the spider-like exhibit he arranged on the couple’s breakfast table.

  Sheets from their linen closet caught most of the blood. The rest he mopped up before pouring the rinse water down the kitchen sink and swabbing the ceramic tiles with bleach. The deed was done with ten minutes to spare. He picked up Ashley’s head and kissed it on the mouth and then wiped the lips with a moist towel before setting it back down. Everything was perfect and Louis would be home any second.

  He dragged the garbage bags to their rolling trash can in the garage, one full of innards, th
e other fat with bloody towels and sheets. A baseball bat propped in the corner caught his attention. Back in the kitchen, he stared in awe at the cleanliness of it all. Then he heard the mechanical drone of the garage door and ducked into his chosen hiding place. He wanted to surprise Louis, but it was more important to see his pain.

  The door opened and Louis entered looking down at the floor as he put his car keys into his pants pocket. He took two steps into the house before seeing the atrocity on the breakfast table where he and his wife spent thousands of meals together. The site didn’t register at first.

  “Ashely?” he said with a nervous laugh.

  The joke stared back at him, large as life. Her head was propped on her empty torso, and her thighs, calves, forearms and upper arms were laid out like the legs of a crab. Her feet would have been the claws while her hands held in their clutches the manila folder which contained his presentation for work. Her eyes stared at him, void of life.

  “Oh Christ, baby,” he whispered. “Who did this to you?”

  He fell to his knees before he could reach her remains and tears streamed from his eyes. His breath shuddered. In between his gasps he glimpsed the horror and the stranger watched, approaching slowly from behind. Louis’s terrible reality was shattered when the aluminum bat from the garage crashed down on his skull.

  “Priceless,” said the stranger.

  He relished the horror and pain he had just witnessed for a moment before realizing that the blow from the bat had done all of his work for him. There would be no torture, no more suffering. No more fun. It fueled the demon in his belly which flared its nostrils in disapproval. His rage blossomed into full adulthood. The good news, for the stranger, was that it was finally time to set the other wheels in motion.

  ..ooOOoo..

  KELLY TIRED OF talk shows and infomercials. She had straightened the house and she had folded the laundry, called her mother and spent time giggling with her friends on the phone about her plans to have a baby. Everyone was excited for her. She was getting hungry as the afternoon passed and thought she’d make a snack before Brian came home. He wouldn’t get anything to eat until he gave her what she wanted…needed. Making the baby—practicing, he called it—was becoming a daily ritual. Afterward, he was going to take her out to dinner.

  “Thirty more minutes,” she said to herself when the phone rang.

  A smile spread across her face as she picked up the handset.

  “I’m waiting for you,” she whispered.

  “I’m on my way,” Brian whispered back.

  “Can’t wait,” she said.

  “Love you, babe,” he said.

  Kelly put the phone down and ran to the bedroom. She stripped off the tank top and slid off the boxers knowing that there would be lines in her skin from the elastic. She wanted to be smooth, perfect for him. Thirty minutes would be long enough for those to disappear. She put lotion on her body and then slid one of his crispy white work shirts on and clasped just one button to keep it in place across her breasts.

  “High heels?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror. “Nah, too much.”

  A spritz of perfume finished her masterpiece and then she opened her laptop to quickly check her email.

  From Ashley and Louis popped out at her at the top of the list. She cocked her head in question and then clicked on the words. There was nothing in the subject line. Nothing in the body of the transmission either. At the bottom was a cartoon paperclip signifying an attachment. When the cursor hovered over it, it simply said: HAPPY BIRTHDAY.JPG.

  The sentiment brought a smile to her face. The first birthday wish for her new baby, she thought. She hadn’t spoken to Louis in ages and had never met Ashley. Brian and Louis were still friends…maybe he had mentioned they were trying to have a baby.

  “How sweet,” she said.

  Click went the mouse. The screen filled with the image of Louis and his freshly shattered skull. He was propped in a chair and leaning against the breakfast table in a kitchen Kelly didn’t recognize. The Ashley-crab thing looked on from the background. Kelly’s stomach rolled. She slammed the laptop’s lid and screamed. It wasn’t enough. She screamed again, picked the computer up and smashed it on the floor. She screamed again and again. She screamed so loud she didn’t hear the car door slam outside of her town house and she didn’t hear the front door open. What she did hear was the struggle that ensued as the stranger, the one who sent the photo—the one who had left Louis and Ashley’s home and snuck into hers while she was dressing sexy for her husband—attacked Brian in the front hall.

  Gasps and throttled, moist shrieks caught her attention. She screamed again. The noises were punctuated by a thud as her husband hit the ground. She stumbled from the bedroom, down the stairs and into the living room to see Brian lying face down. The knife that had opened his throat still stuck out of his neck. His body twitched but had no life left in it. His life was spilled all over the carpet.

  The stranger stood over him and leered at her, chest heaving.

  “Whore,” he said.

  Kelly blinked her eyes and screamed again. She rushed to her husband’s side, damning the consequences. A powerful backhand blow crossed her face and knocked her back several feet. Her legs spread open revealing her nudity.

  “Cover yourself, whore,” said the stranger.

  She pulled her knees up and hugged them, staring with disbelief at the intruder. He appeared to be a boy, no more than ten, with wild eyes and a blood-stained t-shirt on. His voice was that of a man.

  “Who are you?” she stuttered.

  He stalked from one side of the room to the other like a cat toying with its prey.

  “Who are you?” she screamed.

  “Don’t you know me? Can’t you feel me?” he said.

  “What?”

  She glanced at her dead husband again. The stranger slapped his forehead as if he’d just discovered the answer.

  “Of course not. We were never properly introduced,” the thing said.

  “Fuck you!” she screamed.

  “Well why not? You fucked everyone else,” he said.

  Kelly burst into tears. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Louis. You saw his picture. You fucked Louis, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t understand,” she cried.

  He leapt the gap between them and grabbed her face.

  “Louis was my father.”

  Kelly shook her head, still not understanding.

  “You understood then. You understood exactly what you were doing that night. I chose her! Not you. You stole me from her,” he growled and shoved her face away.

  “Who? What are you talking about,” she sobbed.

  “Ashley. She was my choice. She was to be my mother.”

  “I don’t understand!” she screamed.

  The stranger laughed, relishing her pain.

  “I am your son.”

  “No,” she said.

  “Oh yes,” he hissed.

  “No!” she yelled.

  “I am nameless because of you,” he shouted.

  “Shut up!” she screamed shaking her head.

  “I am lifeless because of you. I have walked these streets these past nine years because you had me vacuumed out by a machine in some shit-hole clinic. All because you are a whore,” he said.

  The blurry pieces fell into place. She had slept with Louis after an office party. It was a drunken mistake. They had agreed never to speak of it and never to repeat the indiscretion, but she was pregnant. Louis was married to Ashley and Kelly was pregnant with his child. She decided to abort the child. That child now stood in front of her like angry karma.

  “Ah, now you understand. I can see it in your face,” he said.

  “But how?”

  “That doesn’t really matter now does it?”

  He leaned down, millimeters away from her and breathed his hot, putrid breath into her ear.

  “Today was to be my birthday. My own special day. Your
pain is the only present I have ever received.”

  Kelly pounded her fists on the floor in anger.

  “Now it is time for you to make this right,” he said.

  “You bastard,” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “Appropriate, however that is your fault. I prefer sonofawhore.”

  “I hate you! I never loved you! That’s why I killed you!” she screamed.

  He chuckled again.

  “You’ve hurt me enough, but don’t worry, mother. You’ll see me again very soon.”

  He grabbed her by the throat and kissed her on the mouth.

  “You smell good,” he said and licked his lips. “Taste good, too.”

  Kelly screamed as he spread her legs and feet first, started to crawl back inside.

  “Maybe this time, you’ll do the right thing, bitch. Maybe this time you’ll be a mother.”

  The stranger shrank, disappearing into her. Kelly screamed, unable to move, to fight, to do anything.

  Just before his head, now infant sized, disappeared into her vagina, he said, “Home sweet home. How I’ve missed it.”

  ..ooOOoo..

  SARANORMAL

  JUST A HOUSE, they said. It wasn’t even that old. Sarah was certain that it was to be another routine walk through when she took the call. They would go in, listen to the owners drivel about noises here, slamming doors there … maybe even some ethereal voices or mists, but nothing like what she found. Nothing like that had ever happened and she prays nightly that it won’t ever happen again.