Denny dropped the handset of the portable radio on the dinner table, threw his gun belt around his waist, and buttoned his uniform as he headed for the door. Laura, who had also heard the franticness of Randall’s call couldn’t hide the concern in her voice.
“Denny, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know, guess there’s some trouble over at Jack Darrow’s place, gotta run.”
“When will you be back?”
“Not sure, tonight I hope. I love you.”
His last words hung in the air as he disappeared through the front door.
“I love you too.”
Laura said as she watched him go, well aware that he had not heard her words. She turned to Chubs who was sitting in the middle of the living room looking up at her and thumping his tail gently against the carpet.
“Well it looks like it’s just you and me Chubs.”
Chubs lay down and rested his head between his paws, a small whine, barely audible, escaped his throat.
When Denny arrived Randall was waiting on the front porch, taking cautious measures not to step in the pool of still coagulating blood.
“Holy shit. What in the hell happened?” Denny said as he strode up beside him.
“I’m not sure, but that’s what we’re going to find out. Whatever it is, it’s not good.”
The two cops drew their side arms, preparing for the worst. Randall placed his back against the left side door and pushed it further inward as they entered the house. Darrow heard the squeaky hinges all the way in the basement, the sound working its way down through the pipes in the house.
He took the gun away from his head and gently removed his finger from the trigger. Goddamn pigs, even in my final moments they won’t leave me alone. He snapped open the cylinder and loaded five more bullets into the gun, snapped it closed and waited. It was their decision after all, and if they insisted on pushing it, he would make sure to take them with him.
It took them nearly an hour to secure the upper floors of the mansion. In an upstairs bedroom they found a massive amount of blood that ran another trail all the way to the elevator, which curiously was waiting for them. Someone had either left the basement and wasn’t in the house, or had sent the elevator up for them. Randall had a strong feeling that it was an invitation courtesy of Jack Darrow. He eyed his deputy with a word of caution.
“I don’t know what’s down in the basement, never cared to find out, but if it’s anything like the rest of this place you can be sure that it’s a giant maze.” Denny only nodded. “So be careful.”
They stepped into the elevator and pulled the lever. At the bottom they found a darkened corridor running in both directions, lit only by flickering overhead bulbs that buzzed and hummed in their last stages before they burned out. The tracks in the dust led mainly to the right, that is where they’d find Darrow, Randall was sure of it. He nodded to Denny to cover their backside as they proceeded down the hall, just in case he was wrong. They moved quickly and silently, Randall leading and Denny watching their rear.
Darrow waited in the embalming room, next to the fuse box and facing the door revolver in hand. It was pitch black, just the way he liked it. He had left the hallway lights on for a reason, he wanted their eyes used to the light, their pupils constricted as much as possible, and then, when they were close he would throw the switch, cutting off all light to the basement from the main fuse. The only light would emanate from the boiler room, not enough light to see, not for them. They would be blinds as bats, and he would be ready. It wasn’t more than a minute later that he heard their boots outside his door and listened to them talking, two of them at least. They were such amateurs, stomping around like elephants. As he heard the doorknob turn he cut the lights, dropping the hallway into complete darkness.
Randall was just opening the door when the lights went out.
“What in the hell?” He said as the door swung inward. “I can’t see anything.”
“Peek-a-boo, I see you.” Darrow said as he squeezed the trigger.
There was a blinding flash of light as the gun exploded, the cracking sound of the bullet magnified by the confined quarters added to the confusion. Before Randall knew what hit him he was on the ground holding his stomach as blood slipped through his fingers. He sat up despite the pain in his gut that threatened to bowl him over and unloaded his entire clip in the direction of the fire flash. Darrow dove for cover underneath the embalming table as bullets riddled the metal around him. The shots rang out in fury, sounding like a war zone in the basement. BANG! BANG! BANG! Over and over Randall fired until his clip was empty, not sure if he hit Darrow or not. Not wasting any time he reached for his extra clip and began to reload.
“Denny! I’m hit!”
But Denny was already moving, stepping over him and into the room shrouded in darkness.
“No Denny! Don’t!”
But it was too late. Darrow already had him in his sights. His gun exploded again, the bullet ripped a path through his flesh before splintering the bone beneath. The young deputy screamed out in pain, feeling as though a red-hot poker had been jammed into his shoulder. He turned and fired in the direction of the fire flash, unloading his entire clip. Deafening shots rang out again, one of them catching Darrow in the thigh. He barely seemed to notice; hatred and adrenaline numbed the pain. They were wounded, blind, and panicking, emptying their entire clips in a single flurry of bullets. Darrow only had four bullets left, he didn’t have that luxury, but he didn’t need it, he was patient and he would wait. The deputy was closer now. He fired again, the bullet sailed just over Denny’s head an inch away from taking his life, but the flash gave away Darrow’s position and it was all the time Denny needed. He was on him in a flash, jumping down on top of him and trying desperately to pry the gun from Darrow’s fingers.
Christ he’s strong Denny thought as they wrestled on the floor, how the hell can this little man be so strong? Darrow began to press the gun towards him, Denny resisted with all his strength but his wounded shoulder made it an uphill battle. He could feel the barrel of the gun beginning to tilt towards him in the darkness, if he didn’t do something quick he was as good as dead. Drawing his head back as far as his neck would let him, he let a head butt fly as hard as he could. He heard a loud crack and watched blinding light erupt from behind his eyeballs as his forehead collided with Darrow’s nose, fracturing it in several places. The blow stunned Darrow enough to cause him to loose his grip on the gun, it went clattering away into the darkness, but Denny was stunned as well and Darrow used the opportunity to wrench himself free and he scurried to the safety of the boiler room. Denny heard him go and followed quickly behind him taking just a second to slap his extra clip into his weapon. He felt the doorframe and entered the boiler room. Randall was just getting to his feet, doubled over and still clutching his stomach.
Darrow waited patiently in the corner, next to the pickaxe leaning up against the wall. The young pig was whipping his head back and forth trying to make out anything in the near darkness. When he was in striking distance Darrow gripped the handle of the pickaxe and lifted it silently, but Denny’s well-trained ears picked up the nearly inaudible sound of iron grating against concrete. In a flash he wheeled around, hand gripping the handle of his semi-automatic pistol, he drew it out and prepared to fire, but Darrow had the jump on him and he was quicker. The pickaxe knifed through the air as Darrow brought the pointed end down into Denny’s skull. There was a sick popping and crunching sound as iron pierced through bone and into the soft brain tissue beneath. Denny felt a flash of pain, and then he went limp. Darrow stared down at the fallen cop, blood pouring out of the perfectly circular hole in the center of his forehead.
God damn fucking pigs!
And then he raised the axe again and again as he delivered more blows, sending a torrent of blood flying as it spayed from the axe, leaving distinctive cast off blood patterns on the walls and ceiling. Randall entered the room and barely made out Darrow’s form in the d
arkness, lashing out violently at his partner.
“NO!!!”
Randall screamed as he unloaded his clip into Darrow’s body, bullets ripping through flesh and rupturing vital organs as they pummeled into his torso. Randall didn’t stop until his clip was empty, firing the last rounds into Darrow’s skull as he fell to the floor. Darrow twitched only once as his last gasp of air escaped his lips.
Randall dropped to his knees, cradling Denny’s head in his hands. As he felt the warm blood rush over his hands he knew his friend was going to die. Randall Jackson began then to weep like a baby. Barely discernable pleas escaped his lips as he wailed.
“Hang on Denny. It’s going to be all right. Hang on okay.”
Denny’s breath was barely audible, escaping in a gurgle of blood.
“Stay with me buddy. Come on Denny, stay with me.” He could barely make out his friend’s face in the darkness.
As the lifeblood drained from Denny’s body so too did the light fade from his eyes, until they blended perfectly into the surrounding darkness.
FIFTY-FIVE
Denny’s funeral was three days later. Rain was gently falling, the wispy sideways blowing rain so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest. Randall was there, despite his doctor’s advice that he needed to rest. Laura and Ellie cried, the entire town it seemed turned out, eager to pay their last respects to a fallen hero. Cletus stood nearby, holding Aiden gently by the shoulders. Randall fought back the tears, in the last few days he was all cried out. As they lowered Denny’s body into the ground he threw a single rose on top of his friend’s coffin and then pitched the first symbolic shovel of dirt into the grave. Laura insisted that Denny would have wanted it that way. Seven soldiers from the nearby Fort Lewis army base were there to give a twenty-one gun salute. As they fired three shots each into the air Randall carried the flag that had draped Denny’s casket over to Laura. He could barely stand to look her in the eye.
“Laura, I’m so…”
“Shhh. Randall don’t, that’s not necessary.” Laura placed a single finger to his lips silencing him. “He died doing what he loved and if given the choice he’d do it all over again.”
Then she planted a kiss on his cheek and they embraced, both spilling tears on the other’s shoulder. Ellie watched from a distance, not knowing what to say or what to do. Death had come to her small town and life thereafter would be forever changed. All that was left was to pick up the pieces and move on, what else could she do? What the hell could any of them do?
The nightmares had stopped altogether, vanished from her subconscious like raindrops on the desert floor, evaporating until nothing remained except scattered memories. Of course Ellie never knew why those dreams had come to her in the first place, never really cared to know as long as they were gone. I like to think that Brenda will send her nothing but good dreams now, but she is gone as well, to a better place of course. We should all be so lucky.
When the funeral was over Ellie, Randall, Cletus, and Aiden followed Laura to her car that was stuffed full of as much of her belongings as she could fit into the back and trunk. Chubs sat in the front seat barking as they approached.
“Are you sure you won’t change your mind and stay?” Ellie said, pleading with her eyes at her friend.
Laura shook her head. “No, I’m going home, back to mom and dad’s, there are just too many painful memories here. Besides, it’s hard to raise a baby all by yourself.”
“Oh my God, I, I didn’t know.” From the looks on Randall and Cletus’ faces she could tell they didn’t have a clue either.
“Don’t worry, Denny didn’t even know, I had just found out the day Denny…” She couldn’t finish the thought. “I just found out.”
“How far along are you?”
“About three weeks I guess. Anyways the house is up for sale and I found a good real estate salesman in town willing to sell it for me.”
“Just one more transaction, and then I’m through.” Randall said with a forced smile.
“And mom and dad are just thrilled about having a grandchild around.”
“We’re going to miss you.” Ellie said.
“I’ll miss you guys too. Now come on over here all of you and give me a hug before I start crying again.”
They each took turns hugging Laura goodbye. When they were finished Laura turned and walked to the car, pausing at the passenger side door.
“Oh, and one more thing, Mom’s allergic to dogs and they live in the city, so I was wondering if maybe Aiden wanted to keep Chubs here? Big dogs like him need lots of room to run around. If it’s okay with you Randall that is.”
Aiden let out a squeal of excitement as he looked up at his dad.
“Well, I guess every boy should have a dog, if it’s okay with Chubs that is.”
“Thanks dad.” Aiden Shrieked.
Laura opened the door. “What do you say Chubs, want to stay here with Aiden?”
Chubs barked and jumped down from the car and made his way over to Aiden who threw his arms around the big dog and planted a big kiss on his wet nose.
“I guess it’s settled then.” Laura said. “You be a good boy now Chubs okay.”
Ellie walked her to the driver’s side and Laura got in and started the engine. She rolled down the window for one last goodbye.
“What are you going to name it?” Ellie said.
“Well if it’s a boy Denny Jr.”
“And if it’s a girl?”
“Oh I don’t know. Ellie always seemed like a beautiful name to me.”
They exchanged smiles one last time and then Laura depressed the accelerator and the car sped off into the distance. They all watched as she disappeared into the horizon.
“Come on every body let’s go home.” Randall spoke softly as the four of them and Chubs headed back to the Cherokee.
EPILOGUE
Stanley Cranton closed the leather bound book, leaned back in his chair, and took another puff from his pipe. What an absolutely fascinating tale, he wondered who wrote it. Still it hit a little close to home, a little too close actually. The writer must have had this place in mind when he or she penned it, probably even lived here, since the descriptions were so accurate. He shuddered. Cree—ee—py.
“Stanley, are you up there in that creepy study again?” His wife bellowed from the downstairs foyer.
“I’ll be right down.” God she was nagging a lot these days.
“Dinner’s been ready for almost ten minutes. Alex and I are going to start without you. Unlike you we like to eat our food hot.”
“I said I’d be right down. Jesus.”
He mouthed the last word under his breath, and then turned his attention back to the book. He wondered briefly if he could sell it, after all there was no copyright, no date, hell not even an author. Nah that wouldn’t be right, he’d keep it right where he found it, in this old hidden little study.
It had been almost nine months since he, Alex, and Cindy had moved into the old Talcott Manor, and he’d just discovered the study last week. Since then his time had been mostly preoccupied with the book. He knew it bothered Cindy, him spending all this time in here alone, but then again it was his vacation, besides reading the book anywhere else seemed, not quite right.
“Are you coming?”
Cindy’s voice bellowed up the stairs again. This is really getting old.
“All right! I’m coming right now!” He yelled back.
Stanley Cranton rose from his chair, stretched his aching back, and headed for the exit, pausing only briefly to turn out the light as he wondered again who wrote the intriguing leather bound book with the scrawled red writing. Oh well, guess I’ll never know he thought as he made his way up the ramp and pulled the bookcase closed.
From the shadows Abby watched him go. She let him descend the stairs before rolling herself down the hall and into her bedroom. She is aware that he can’t hear the squeaking of her wheels, but she waits nonetheless, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Old
habits die hard she thought, harder than the people who keep them anyway. The moonlight was slipping through the window like it always does this time of night, although Abby can sit within it and no longer cast shadows. She likes to think that it’s because she refuses to bring darkness to an already dreary world. The view from her window remains unchanged. The trees still sway in the breeze and somewhere in the distance Myer’s Creek continues to trickle westward before emptying with near silence into Lake Sequoia. And so Abby sits and gazes out her window at the world to which she never really belonged but for some reason can’t seem to leave. She wonders how long she’ll stay, an eternity maybe. This thought draws out slow and lethal. The bird is back again, perched on the windowsill as it is every night, and Abby supposes she is grateful for the company.
The Raven caws once, tilting his head upward to shatter the silence, and then focuses his cold gray eyes on Abby once again.
If you enjoyed Saltar’s Point please consider reading Demon Flower and Hollow. You may purchase them through the following links:
Demon Flower
Hollow
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