Stephen Leary was obviously not a clean and orderly individual, as assessed by the outward appearance of his dwelling, but even his filthy ways would not have explained the chaos unveiled inside. Broken glass, fragments of wood, stuffing from cushions, and all manner of debris and destruction covered every square inch within. Every object that the man possessed appeared to have been intentionally smashed, thrown, or knocked over. Even within the walls were dents and tears, scars from objects both great and small beating upon them furiously.
Using caution, Hammett stepped inside the dark living room, his senses strained to detect the slightest movement or noise within. As his feet pressed into the thick carpet a loud squish was heard, the rug completely soaked in some sort of liquid. Papers and books lined the floor, cabinets opened and drawers emptied in a hurried search. Farther in he made his way, each step chosen to avoid the innumerable obstacles, or crushing broken glass under foot and making undue noise.
With no sign of the homeowner in the living room, Hammett now proceeded down the hallway. The Cyclops poked his head inside a bathroom on his left, a room that appeared untouched. Three more cautious steps he took down the hall, when a door to the right slowly opened, and the cool face of Rafael Vega emerged from the shadows. Hammett looked at his partner questioningly, and the Spaniard shook his head in the negative.
There was but one room left to search, the bedroom positioned at the end of the hall. Hammett took the lead, Vega following but a step behind. The Cyclops stopped in front of the bedroom door to listen for a moment, and then swiftly shoved it inward. After his massive eye adjusted to the dimly lit carnage within, he softly sighed, then holstered his firearm. Lying on the floor near the foot of the bed, upon a patch of blood-soaked carpet, was Stephen Leary, the very same man who had interviewed Alex for employment and sent him off on his fateful meeting with Moody and Serene. The fat man’s lifeless eyes stared in horror toward the ceiling, mouth wide open as if to scream, his rigid fingers curled in terror. Upon his neck, directly placed on the line of the jugular vein, were two bloody puncture marks roughly an inch apart.
Hammett turned back to his partner and scratched his forehead in disappointment. Vega answered back only with an odd look. “You can say that again,” Hammett replied. “Mr. Stephen Leary is going to most assuredly be of no assistance in our ongoing investigation. Poor fool.” Kneeling down next to the corpse, the inspector examined the wounds carefully. “Well, one thing’s for sure, Vega: this case just got exponentially more problematic. Ms. Necrosia and her ‘Othersider’ friend were already in it neck deep, but they have no clue what hell they’ve brought upon themselves.”
Chapter 5- A Farewell Dinner
“In a better mood now, are we?” Serene asked, a towel wrapped around her head and sporting a fresh set of clothes, clean and renewed from her bath.
“Much.” Alex smiled back with a peaceful expression, something that had become virtually extinct since meeting his new employer. He was still stretched out on the sofa, an empty beer bottle resting on the floor next to him. “In fact, for a while there I had almost forgotten how you’ve totally screwed up my life.”
“Bah! If it weren’t for me your life would be hopelessly empty and unbearably dull. I bring color and flavor to your existence. You should be thanking me profusely.”
“Whatever, Serene. You just keep on believing anything you want in that cracked head of yours,” he added with a grin, closing his eyes tranquilly. “I’m feeling way too relaxed right now to even bother arguing with you. Not worth the effort.”
“A pity. I do so love our little spats. I find them exceptionally invigorating,” she chuckled merrily. The inventor cast her eyes across the room with a satisfied expression, and finally settled them on the sofa in front of her. “I always adored that couch. It’s comfortable, is it not?”
“Yes it is…and a hell of a lot more comfortable than that so-called bed you had me sleeping in back at your mansion, I’ll add.”
“Yes…”she continued softly, gazing upon the old piece of furniture with that nostalgic look once more. “Richard and I spent many a lovely afternoon in tender embrace where you rest right now.”
“Oh yeah? That’s sweet,” Alex replied sleepily, stretching his arms and curling his toes with a contented sigh.
“It was by far our favorite location to make love. In point of fact, I’m altogether surprised that the couch is still in one piece, what with the strain constantly placed upon it. Such wonderful memories.”
Alex stopped mid-stretch, opened his eyes, and an expression of uncomfortable disgust crept into his features. He quickly sat upright, and looked upon the sofa as though it were contaminated by some vile substance. “So…um…well…yeah…” he muttered clumsily, clearing his throat, and feeling very ill at ease as the inventor continued to study the furniture with an eerily lustful gleam. “So…um…so what’s our next move, then? Are we staying for a while? I rather like it here.”
“No, it pains me to say I don’t plan on lingering,” Serene replied, sitting down next to him. “I wish we could stay for an extended period of time. There are so many splendid things we could do, so many things I greatly desire to show you. With any luck I shall bring you back once things settle down a bit and give you a proper experience. But, all things considered, more than likely we will be on the road again tomorrow — the sooner the better.”
“Oh joy,” Alex grunted with a frown. “Another fifteen hours cramped into that car with nothing to do but get on each other’s nerves and stare at scenery that never changes? I can’t wait.”
“Now, now, don’t concern yourself over what lies ahead, dear boy. This is an occasion for merriment and companionship, and I have no mind to unduly concern myself with the minor details of our situation while there’s prodigious eating and drinking to be done. Tonight you just enjoy yourself. We’ll talk about the next step tomorrow.”
“But you do have a plan, right? I’ll go ahead and point out the obvious fact that tomorrow is going to be here in a few hours. Please tell me we aren’t driving through the countryside aimlessly on some sort of half-assed road trip.”
“Not another word, my good man. Now,” she said loudly, standing up from her seat, pulling the wet towel off her head and flinging it into Alex’s lap, “what does one have to do to acquire a decent drink around here?”
“You don’t have a clue do you? You’re just…playing it all by ear…playing with our freaking lives.”
“Thistle! Thistle, darling! Where do you keep the good stuff? I have a mind to imbibe freely this evening!”
“You’re going to get us all killed and you don’t even care. I hope you’re happy with yourself!” Alex grumbled to Serene as she disappeared into the kitchen. With a great sigh he flopped his head backward, eyes directed at the ceiling, overwhelmed with frustration, and gritted his teeth. “Way things are going we’d be better off leaving Dante in charge. Stupid woman. Hey! Since you’re so intent on damning us all, why don’t you get me another beer while you’re in there!” he yelled toward the kitchen.
“Supper’s done! Everyone wash up and sit down at the table! Dante! Dante!” Thistle was walking about the house banging a wooden spoon against a ceramic bowl, occasionally taking the opportunity to loudly stir the squishy contents within. “Where’s my hungry boy? Come on out, Dante!” Without a sound, the long, fuzzy legs of the spider slid out from under the large recliner, and with noticeable effort, tugged at the carpet furiously until the rest of its body came tumbling out. “There’s my little man!” the hunchback cried happily.
“You don’t mind him running free like this?” Alex asked, walking up behind Thistle and peering suspiciously at the brown, bubbling glob within the bowl.
“Of course not, honey. Back in the day, Dante had free reign of the entire farm. He won’t hurt nothing. Isn’t that right, my hungry boy?” She tilted her head slightly and gazed down proudly at the monstrous arachnid stretched out across the bowl set upon the floor, dipp
ing its legs into the goo curiously. “Everyone eats well tonight! Now come sit down, Alex, and let me put some meat on your bones!”
Moody had assisted Thistle with dinner, and the entire clan sat down to a table overflowing with steaming, heavenly smelling food. Even Marco had been propped up in a chair upon several encyclopedias, just so he could feel a part of the evening’s festivities. Unsurprisingly, Thistle’s cooking style was decidedly more rustic than Moody’s, but was every bit as appealing, and Alex wondered if fantastic cooking were the hidden talent of the female hunchback. The main course consisted of numerous country-fried armadillo steaks, which were doused in thick, lumpy white gravy that had the bizarre ability to spasm and twitch of its own accord every so often. Also provided were cobs of corn bright blue in color and as large as a roll of paper towels, black eyed peas, and some other gelatinous, green substance that Alex was too leery to inquire about. As is always the case when good friends meet over fine food and drink, the party laughed and conversed happily throughout the dinner. Unsurprisingly, Serene and Thistle did most of the talking, regaling the table with grand memories of happy times on the farm. In such a friendly atmosphere Alex allowed himself to entirely forget his woes, and even Moody smiled and joined in the conversation.
“Thistle,” Alex said loudly across the table, his stomach noticeably bloated from partaking of too much armadillo, “that was a fantastic dinner.”
“It was the company that made it so,” she replied graciously, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “But thank you kindly.”
“The best of company, indeed,” Serene added, lifting her glass in a sort of toast, and then draining it in one gulp. “I do wish we could stay for a hundred such feasts, but I believe it best we bid your wonderful hospitality farewell tomorrow.”
“But you just got here,” Eugene protested, loosening his belt buckle, which had become uncomfortably tight from dinner. “Surely you can stay a few days at the least. You should all rest up a bit.”
“Eugene’s right,” Thistle chirped in. “I insist.”
“I am truly lucky to have friends such as you, but for the time being, until we put a great deal more distance between us and Eville, I believe it’s best we don’t spend too much time in one particular place.”
“And where do you intend to go exactly?” Eugene asked.
“Ah…as for that…” Serene began in an evasive tone.
“She doesn’t know,” Alex growled, taking a sip from a beer bottle.
“In point of fact, ye of little faith,” she replied, shooting a sharp glance at her employee, “I know precisely where I’m going. But…and please don’t take this the wrong way, because I trust you both with my life,” she added with a fond glance at Thistle and Eugene, “I feel the less you know about our future actions the better. I do not wish to put either of you in a position where…well, there’s no need to bring you further into our…modest predicament.”
“Is that what you’re calling it now?” Alex asked, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, come now. I don’t think you need worry so much, Serene,” Eugene said dismissively. “Your name has never been attached to this farm. In fact, only a handful of people beyond those sitting at this table even knew you were married to Richard. Altogether I could probably count on my fingers the number of people that know this place exists. Our shipments of the Varlic plant are so small and pass through so many hands throughout the distribution process that we’re virtually invisible. You all could stay for months and not a soul would have a clue as to your whereabouts. You know we’d do anything to help you, Serene. So please, let us help you.”
“I do indeed know your sincerity quite well, my old friend. And while your arguments are valid, I have made up my mind, and nothing you can say will change it. Since you have offered your help so generously, however, I do have a favor to ask.”
“Name it,” Eugene said eagerly.
“I would have you look after Dante and Marco for a while.”
“Of course! We’d be thrilled to have them,” Thistle replied with genuine pleasure.
“What!” Marco’s pad vibrated. “You’re simply going to abandon me? After all we’ve been through?”
“It’s nothing like that, my love,” Serene said soothingly across the table. “I could never abandon you. This is but a temporary measure. As soon as I am able, you and Dante shall be sent straight to our location. But while we are on the run, so to speak…”
“I’m nothing but a burden…” Marco wrote in sad, spidery letters. “I don’t know why you even keep me around…”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you old fool. This is for your own safety and you know it. We all love you dearly, which you know quite well. Now quit sulking. You’re casting a pall of misery and despair upon this lively evening. And since you mentioned it, you are in fact rather heavy to carry around…especially if we find ourselves in a tight spot. You know very well Alex can only carry so much at one time. He’s not exactly Hercules, you know.”
“What? Excuse me?” Alex added with heat, angry that he was being brought into the argument, annoyed at Serene’s dig on his puniness, and equally offended that she had assumed that it was his responsibility to lug Marco on his back wherever they might go.
“And here I was so excited to get out of that damned basement for once...” Marco wrote. “It was nice while it lasted.”
“Well, honey, we don’t have a basement,” Thistle laughed. “You’re going to love it here! I’ll take you around the farm with me, let you sit out on the porch, read to you, you can watch the Visi-Screen with us…I swear you’ll be far from bored.”
“Visi-Screen?” Alex asked. “Is that like a TV or something?”
“Yup.” Thistle smiled.
“That’s how we saw you all on the news, of course,” Eugene added.
“You people have TV?” Alex asked in surprise.
“Naturally, silly man,” Serene answered. “You honestly believe it was an ‘Othersider’ who invented the technology? The Visi-Screen, as we call it, has been in use for hundreds of years.”
“I never saw something like that at your mansion. Why don’t you own one?”
“Because some damned imbecile birthed the odious concept of allowing that pompous toad Snotwaddle his own monthly program. Some misguided and erroneous nonsense regarding scientific theory and advancement, which does nothing but contradict genuine progress! If such drivel is allowed to be so secreted upon the ignorant masses without restraint, then I have no such need for a Visi-Screen. May someone refill my glass, please?” she asked grumpily.
“You’re just angry nobody asked you to do a show,” Alex laughed.
“Dimwits had the gall to say I lacked the charisma to be on the air. Me? Can you believe that? I’ll give them charisma up their…”
“Anyway,” Thistle interrupted, “we’d both be thrilled to have Marco and Dante for as long as you need us to. They will be honored guests. We’ll even fatten Dante up, nice and plump, isn’t that right sweetie?” Thistle looked under the tablecloth with a smile as Dante shuffled about between feet searching for table scraps.
“You have my gratitude,” Serene said, a full glass in hand once again. “That takes a load off of my mind. Anyhow, that’s enough serious talk for tonight. Now, I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you two a little something you won’t be seeing on those Visi-Screen news reports: The amazing truth of how I saved the world from an incomprehensible cataclysm just a few nights ago.”
“Which you started…” Alex chimed in.
“And you did all of this “saving” by your little lonesome, no doubt,” Moody groaned.
“Oh, hush you two. You always misconstrue my words. Let us retire to the living room and I’ll provide a full, entirely unbiased account of the epic heroics that took place. And Eugene, my good man, be a sport and fetch a couple more bottles, eh?”
Chapter 6- Dead Men Tell No Tales
“Dear God this is…this is horrible.” Mayo
r Julian Turner stood several feet away from the lifeless corpse of Stephen Leary, his lips curled with disgust, a flashlight clenched in one hand, while the other was held under his nose. The beam of light cast upon the lifeless body skittered erratically as the Mayor’s hand trembled with anxiety and repulsion at the gruesome scene. “Here we are, hanging on by the skin of our teeth as a community, only to have a …a murderer among us. And to think that I believed that the worst was safely behind us. Dear God, I think I’m going to be ill…”
“Fetch my bag, if you would please, Vega,” Hammett asked, kneeling close to the victim, studying every inch of the body and surrounding area meticulously. “Do try and contain yourself, Mr. Mayor. A beam of light that wisps about like a drunken pixie is of no use to me. I wonder if you’d be better off waiting back in the car.”
“No…I…I apologize, inspector. I mean to be of assistance. It’s just that…I am not quite as accustomed to viewing such…sights as you likely are.” Turner took a deep breath, and with noticeable concentration steadied his hand. “This…crime…it happened quite recently I take it?”
“Indeed. The sun set less than three hours ago, and we can be quite certain this murder was not committed in daylight. Very recently, I should say. Ah! Thank you, Vega,” Hammett nodded, taking a leather satchel from his partner’s hands. The inspector placed the bag on the ground, quickly unzipped the top, and pulled out a small rectangular box from among its many clattering contents. From this kit he produced a large cotton swab and a vial of clear liquid. One end of the swab was dipped into the vial, and then the Cyclops began to probe one of the circular wounds on the victim’s neck with the damp end, sticking it deep into the puncture with a nauseating squishing noise.
“May I ask what it is that you are doing precisely?” Turner asked, turning his eyes away.
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