by Bryan Nowak
“Come on in.”
He poked his head into the room, a tired grin on his face. “How are you doing?”
“You need a haircut.” She brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried combing his hair. “I guess I’m doing okay. Not perfect. We are the mighty Johnston party of two and we can make it through anything. Mike will forgive us for missing lunch.”
“You mean you, Mom. It was your date.” He gently batted away her attempts at making him look more presentable.
Assessing her son’s clothing, Meghan let a giggle escape. They gave him a pair of jeans, three sizes too big. A belt, pulled impossibly tight, held them up at the waist. He wore a white tee-shirt with a polo shirt over the top, also three sizes too big. A little more preppy than normal, in a strangely discombobulated way.
“Who brought you your clothes, Mom?”
She looked confused. “Kind of an odd question … Shelly. Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure what to make of it. Elizabeth brought these in, she just … walked in on me. No knocking or anything. And I mean, Elizabeth walked in on me … all of me. That girl gives me the creeps.”
Meghan found it hard not to laugh at her ferociously-blushing son. “Ah, well. You have an admirer.”
“More like a stalker … be serious, will you? This whole place seems weird, doesn’t it?”
“Okay, a little odd maybe. Walking in on you was probably just an accident. What’s the matter, don’t want the cute girl seeing your wee-wee?”
Kyle shook his head. “Really, that’s your take away from that?” Kyle sounded frustrated. “I’m not sure it was an accident. It felt more like it was planned. Maybe she stood by the door and waited for that exact moment to come in. She stared at me, Mom, not a normal stare, it was creepy and leering. And that is another thing, I know I locked that door. I’m sure of it.”
“So she stared. Was it like a serial killer or like a crazy cat lady you accidentally made eye contact with?”
He frowned. “Neither … or maybe both at the same time I guess. She’s just weird. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. Promise me?”
She straightened the collar of the borrowed polo shirt. “Okay, Mr. Fraidycat, we’ll get out of here first thing in the morning. After I patch things up with Mike, we’ll have a quiet lunch together and forget all about this mess. Don’t forget, the way this whole thing turned out could have been far worse.”
Another rap on the door interrupted their conversation. “Come in,” Meghan said.
Shelly appeared. “Oh good, you’re both here. Dinner is served. The reverend requests you both join him.” She locked eyes with Meghan for a moment before casting her glance to the floor and shuffled out of the room.
Down the hall from the bedrooms, a large dining room furnished with white linens, fine china, and crystal stemware lay out as if the President was expected for dinner. The sight promised food, and a good meal at that. It could’ve also been the oppressive hunger overwhelming her from not eating since breakfast. Kyle, naturally, dove for the food the moment Shelly uncovered it.
The reverend held up a hand, a clear instruction to everyone to curtail their enthusiasm for the moment. He said, “I’m not sure what your faith beliefs are, but in this house, we always say grace before dinner.”
Kyle backed off the food as Elizabeth motioned to the chair next to her. “You can sit next to me, Kyle.”
Meghan thought the way she patted the chair was a bit over the top. Her boy might be onto something with his suspicions. Obviously Elizabeth was taken with the handsome boy staying the night. The disturbing vibe Kyle mentioned earlier radiated off the girl. Elizabeth was too eager and it clearly made him uncomfortable. Then again, it could be chalked up to raging hormones and her obviously sheltered life.
“Yes, Kyle, sit next to Elizabeth,” Shelly said, placing a large silver serving dish down on the center of the table.
Kyle did as instructed, shooting Meghan a glance which bordered on terror.
Shelly removed the dome-shaped cover, revealing the largest roast Meghan had ever seen. Perfectly cooked, brown with only a hint of pink, the juice flowed from the meat. Other covers on large silver serving dishes were removed to reveal potatoes and cooked carrots. So much food that even Kyle would’ve had a hard time finishing it all.
The reverend folded his hands and bowed his head in prayer, and the others followed suit. “Dearest Master …”, the reverend paused uncomfortably like he didn’t know how to continue his prayer. He restarted, “Dearest master of all things. Let us bow down before you and pay homage. You give us all good things in life. You bring us safety from the outside world and new friends in the guise of strangers. I ask your continued blessings over this town and all who inhabit it. I ask for your continued guidance as we go through this time of turmoil and trouble. May you continually bless us and allow us to serve you. Amen.”
Kyle added, “In Jesus name we pray, Amen.”
Meghan glanced up at her boy, proud that he still remembered to add that little post script he’d learned in Sunday school. Glancing over at the reverend, she was surprised to see a flash of anger cross his face. Shelly looked shocked too. What had Kyle said to elicit such a reaction? What kind of religion did these people practice?
After the plates made their way around the table, and the meal began in earnest, the conversation devolved into the more mundane. Meghan and the reverend talked about what she did for a living. Elizabeth and Kyle talked about school and their plans for the future.
The reverend asked, “So, how long are you planning on staying at the Hideaway? I understand it’s a nice resort. Sadly, my duties here in town make it hard for me to get away much. Although, as you can see, I have my own little resort right here.”
Meghan swallowed a mouthful of food and said, “Every year, toward the end of the season, I put our names on a bunch of resort waiting lists, hoping to score a cheap vacation. This year, we were lucky enough to get one. It worked out pretty well. At least until today … and the boat. But we did get to meet you nice folks.”
He smiled at her. “As a wise man once said, strangers are only friends we haven’t met yet.”
Kyle spoke up. “Ned Flanders said that I think.”
Meghan laughed, but their hosts said nothing. Elizabeth was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. “No, that was William Butler Yeats. Who’s Ned Flanders?”
Kyle stared around the table in momentary confusion. “You know, The Simpson’s. From television?”
The reverend glowered at Kyle, reminding Meghan of the way her father looked when poor grades came home from school. “We don’t indulge in television watching in this house. It’s a foul habit breeding ignorance.”
Kyle visibly recoiled at the man’s sudden rebuke.
Meghan jumped in to save him. “I wholeheartedly agree, television has really gone downhill over the years. Either you’re watching trashy television shows or news stories that are essentially filled with bad news. The reality is that nothing educational is even available for today’s youth.” As if to drive home her point, she smiled at Elizabeth. “Better to stay away from television.”
The reverend stared at them. There was no mistaking how uncomfortable the present situation made him, despite his willingness to open up the house to the strangers and dine with them.
Dinner finished in an uneasy silence. Meghan tried to think of a way to excuse Kyle and herself when Reverend Swenson remarked, “Only one thing left to do.”
Shelly reappeared with a platter holding five small shot glasses, placing two orange colored ones in front of Elizabeth and Kyle. She then placed a glass, filled with a green liquid, in front of Meghan before handing similar ones to the reverend and taking one for herself.
He stood up from his chair and held up his glass. “It is tradition, in this house, that when we have guests who darken our door, we always extend to them the warmest of wishes and hospitalities. Fate brought you to us and in some ways, you’ll l
eave your mark on us. For that, we are eternally grateful. For the children, Shelly has brought mango juice, a special juice from a special fruit. Its tastefulness, and nutritional value are known far and wide. It is my way of giving you the best in life before you travel out into the world.”
Meghan held up the shot glass. “And for us?”
He smiled at the interruption. “My German Oma und Opa would haunt me if I neglected to offer my guests a taste of the home country. Sour-apple Schnapps.” He smiled and raised his glass to his guests. “Prost!”
With that, Shelly collected the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen. Donny then excused himself abruptly, disappearing behind the enormous wooden doors of the office. Meghan only caught a brief glimpse of the room beyond. It looked like a sumptuously appointed room, dripping with oak and leather.
For a moment, Kyle and Meghan stared at each other across the dinner table. No one had even said good night to them or anything. Shrugging off the awkwardness, they returned to Meghan’s room, unclear on whether the impromptu dinner party had actually come to an end. They spoke in hushed tones so as not to be overheard.
“That was the strangest dinner party I’ve ever attended,” Meghan said.
Kyle affixed her with a look of pure relief. “You’re telling me. You know Elizabeth kept a hand on my thigh the entire dinner? I think in some countries, we’d now be legally married.”
Meghan laughed as he once again turned beet red. “Do you want me to say something like, ‘Keep your damn hands off my little boy, you’re giving him cooties?’”
“You’re embarrassing. No, don’t do that. I just want to go to sleep and get the heck out of this place. Maybe the hotel will understand and give us a night for free and you can schmooze your new boyfriend.”
She laughed at the obvious jab. A sudden, inexplicable exhaustion overwhelmed her. Eyes heavy, she gave Kyle a hug and closed the door. Stretching out on the bed, thinking of a moment to rest, dinner made her tired.
She tried to get up. Her arms and legs felt like lead weights threatening to pull her down through the mattress. The room spun around like a carousel sent out of control. Something was terribly wrong, and Meghan lacked even the strength to lift her head from the pillow or make a sound to alert a would-be rescuer.
Managing a last ditch effort to move toward the door, she slipped off the side of the bed and crashed onto the floor.
Attempted Murder
Mike and Bill stayed low to the ground to avoid being seen. The last thing they needed was to attract any attention to themselves. Bill led them farther off the main road, deeper into the woods. They knew that eventually, someone might see the boats tied up at the dock and go looking for them, so speed was of the essence. Running parallel to the road and in between the wetlands and the lake, ran a smaller dirt path.
“Where do you think this goes?” Mike asked.
“No telling,” Bill replied. “It looks like an old forestry road or something. Maybe an old driveway to someone’s property before they moved the buildings out of here. It looks pretty overgrown.“
A foul stench in the air swept over them, assailing their nostrils. At first, Mike couldn’t place the smell, but then it triggered a memory from his childhood. As a family, they’d go to their uncle's house in Kentucky and the garage had that same distinct odor. It was the unmistakable smell of rotting meat from when they cleaned deer carcasses from his hunting expeditions. The skin hung from rafters in the garage until it was ready for tanning.
In front of them lay a good-sized house. Pieces of siding were missing, and the lawn was littered with rotted and rusted pieces of construction materials. Mike and Bill stepped gingerly around an old bathtub laying in the grass to avoid making any unnecessary noise. A voice up ahead stopped them in their tracks.
“I just didn’t think this would happen so soon, Matt, you know? At the most I thought I had another month before we had to do … this. Can’t you hide me for a little while longer. I just wasn’t ready for this right now.”
Another voice spoke up. “I’m sorry Waylon, you know I’d give anything to not have to do this, and you also know I have no choice in the matter. The simple fact that I’m standing here, right in front of you, is because we’re friends. You have a right to know that I take this personally. I’ll never forget you. This is the best I can do for you now. You’ll be in a better place in a moment.”
Bill motioned to Mike to crouch behind the bathtub. They peered around the end of it, toward the house.
“Take care of my mom, Matt,” the first voice begged, breaking with emotion. “She’s getting on in years and needs someone to watch after her.”
The second voice responded, not with hostility but a note of tenderness. “I will, buddy. You have my solemn promise. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you, Matthew. Can I have a minute … I mean, just a minute? Should really call mama and say goodbye to her. No, wait. Matthew, I just want a moment to—” A thunderous shot rang out. Mike understood instinctively what he heard. The loud noise was immediately followed by the sound of something heavy making a dull thud against a wooden floor like a sack of potatoes being dropped.
“Sorry Waylon,” the single voice said with a hint of regret. “Now you’re at peace. This is the best I can do for you right now.”
Mike laid flat to the ground, sharing a worried glance at Bill. His eyebrows knitted together, over eyes as wide as saucers. There was no mistaking what just happened. Some commotion coming from the house sounded like the body of the unfortunate soul being dragged further inside.
A few more minutes passed and an engine started. A large truck backed onto the road. Mike peered through a crack in the old tub and identified a light bar and the shield from a police department on the back of the vehicle. The driver was either a police officer or had some association with a law enforcement agency. It lurched forward and disappeared around a bend in the driveway.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Mike climbed to his feet. “What the fuck was that, Bill? I mean, what did we just hear?”
“I think we just witnessed a man being killed.” Bill rose to his feet and brushed the dirt from his clothes. “I’ve only seen one other person killed in my lifetime and I swore it was the last. Mike, what the hell did we get into?”
Had they really just listened to an execution? Mike’s mind spun with a flurry of thoughts. Yes, it sure sounded like someone being killed; but who, and why? Without moving in for a closer inspection, they couldn’t answer either of those questions.
Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for all of this.
Mike put his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “We have to check this out.”
Bill shook his head vigorously. “Mike, this is too much. We really need to get the proper authorities out here. This is way beyond us.”
“Agreed; however, we need to find out if what we think we heard was really what we heard. We don’t even know if that guy is really dead. We have to check, if only to make sure we don’t leave an injured man to die.”
Bill reluctantly nodded his ascent. “Okay, we go up there and peek in the windows and see what we can see. Then we get out of here.”
The two men advanced on the little building. The smell stung at their nostrils like the scent tried to drill its way in. A breeze, which should have felt refreshing, blew at them from the direction of the house, bringing the obnoxious odor along for the ride.
The house sat still in front of them, like a huge monument to unseen horrors, its sagging wood and decrepit countenance speaking volumes about the irrationality of entering it. The wooden floor boards issued a stubborn squeak against their footfalls as they advanced, threatening to give away their presence to anyone within earshot.
Mike made a mental note of the number of flies they encountered as they got closer. A few at first, then the numbers became intolerable as the flies amounted to a great grey swarm. No amount of swatting made a difference. At the door, the smell and the flies became
too much to handle as Mike’s stomach screamed its objections.
The two peered into the dark recesses of the house from the doorway. No one moved inside the dilapidated structure. Still, they stepped inside cautiously.
“Something wet, I—,” Bill said, stopping mid-sentence.
Mike heard a loud thud as Bill fell on the floor like a ton of bricks. “Crap, Bill are you okay?” Mike activated the flashlight app on the cell phone. Sweeping the beam toward where Bill had fallen, he caught sight of something on the wall which made his heart stop.
“Yeah, I’m okay Mike,” Bill grumbled. “Just fell down. Help me up.”
“Bill, look.” Mike felt like it was someone else talking. If you’d asked him a week before if he’d be involved in something like this, he’d thought you were crazy. His beam of light trained on two tables pushed up against the walls. Tied down, in frightening poses, were human remains in different stages of decomposition. On the floor, at the base of one table, an arm lay on the ground, congealed in its own dried blood. It looked like an animal had gnawed the body at some point. A few of the digits had been bitten down to the bone. In front of each table, holes, like makeshift drains, gave way to the cellar below.
Bill, regaining his feet, joined Mike. “What the hell is this place?”
Mike remembered reading about a case like this in law school, a case so horrifying it had turned him from criminal to corporate law. A serial killer took each of his victims and tied them to tables in a basement. After allowing each to die of starvation, he sodomized the corpses and then chopped them into little bits. “It reminds me of a kill room of sorts. We need to get the fuck out of here. Get back to the resort and call the FBI. This is way beyond what we came here for. This is … I’m not even sure what to call it.”
Bill nodded in agreement with Mike’s sudden change of heart. Pulling out his own cell phone, he used his light to sweep the sides of the room. Bodies, and body parts, lay stacked in strange arrangements everywhere like piles of wood or maybe an odd art exhibit. Some of them nothing more than mutilated corpses. Flies buzzed and rats climbed everywhere in the room, feeding on the human buffet.