by Jason Davis
“Come on, Jake.”
CHAPTER 17
What the hell had he just done? Damn, he’d probably just lost his job. Just what had he been thinking? Hitting that guy, dislocating his shoulder, allowing him to get under his skin… How many times had a suspect tried to provoke him? He had never allowed himself to make a young, dumbass rookie move like that?
A large bush slapped against him, bringing him out of his musings. The shape in front of him continued walking, and Rob worked to keep the beam of the flashlight focused on him. He had a hard time keeping up, his son finding his way through the dark better than his old man could with the flashlight. Much of that probably had to do with Rob worrying about not having a job in the morning. When you didn’t pay attention to where you were going, it was easy to trip over your own feet.
I’m a parent. What would any parent have done?
He didn’t think anybody would have acted any differently. So what if he might be out of a job? As much as he replayed it in his mind, he knew he wouldn’t have changed anything.
What was he going to do for a new job, though? He still had the seasonal driving thing, but could he see himself being a truck driver the rest of his life? Could he really walk away from being a cop? It was his life, his heritage, and everything he knew.
He would never be able to walk away from it, but none of the small towns around them would want him after they heard about what happened. It wasn’t like in Chicago were he could hide in obscurity, moving from one district to another. There, unless it made the news, it would just get overlooked. However, nowadays, everything seemed to make it into the media and everyone had to have a damned Facebook.
“How much farther, Jake?”
Because of the meth lab explosion in Chicago, a drug bust gone bad, his back wasn’t the greatest and he sometimes had a nasty limp, his right leg not always working the way it should. But, thinking about it, when was the last time the limp had been anything but psychological? When was the last time his back hurt so badly, he couldn’t get out of bed? It had been nearly six months, hadn’t it?
“Just on the other side,” Jake said.
His son disappeared into the darkness. He had been there one minute, gone the next, Rob’s flashlight not penetrating the rippling inkwell of blackness. He tentatively reached out, remembering Jake saying something about some thorn bushes. He felt a flash of pain, quickly pulling his hand back. Sure enough, he saw a dark splotch of blood dripping down his hand. Rob looked back into the darkness, taking a deep breath as he stepped forward.
“Jake, you okay?” he called out, fighting the irrational fear that he just lost his son again, panicking after losing sight of him.
“Yeah, Dad.”
He emerged into the clearing, feeling the tearing of flesh from unseen thorns. He ignored it as he looked around for Jake. Stepping over, he pulled his son into a hug.
“You did good today. I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“Of course. You hung in there when all this happened, then found me. Yeah, you did good.”
“I thought you’d be mad at me.”
Rob pushed him back a little so he could stare down at his son, seeing his tears. “Why?”
“We left the park.”
“Oh.” Rob nodded. “Yeah, well, you’re grounded, that’s for sure. But I’m pretty sure your mom is going to lock you inside until all this is figured out anyway, so don’t feel too bad.”
Jake nodded, smiling slightly. Rob pulled him into another hug, never wanting to let go.
“You going to be okay while I go check out the body?” Rob felt Jake nod against him. “Okay. I’ll be right back. If you get scared, just call out for me. I’ll be right there, no further.”
“Okay.”
Rob let him go, then scanned the clearing. He saw the signs that kids did, in fact, frequent the area. There wasn’t any grass, candy wrappers and Coke bottles littered the ground, and there were two tree stumps they used as chairs. The clearing looked more like a local make out spot than an actual party area. He’d have to take note to check there when he patrolled, just to make sure no one was getting down and doing the nasty.
When the light of his flashlight came across the top of the grate, he saw the hand holding it. It was thin, gaunt, and looked like it belonged to a much older man. The ring reflected off the beam of light. It did, indeed, match the chief’s.
He bent forward, focusing on the large opening. He kept his distance, not wanting to contaminate anything or fall in. He didn’t have to lean very far before he saw the glint of the chief’s dead eyes looking up at him.
They now had a murder investigation. The state would step in and assist county, taking it out of his hands. It was common in small towns, most local cops hating to be pushed out. Rob thought he would actually appreciate it. One, he did not have the resources to investigate this, and two, he had never been a detective. He was a beat cop. They weren’t meant to do the thinking. Beat cops were just there to do the doing, being the physical hands of justice as they chased down and arrested those the detectives had identified as the perps.
Rob tried to look into the pit below the chief. All he could see was endless darkness.
Take another step, maybe two, and you can join that darkness. It’s right there. You wouldn’t have to worry about losing your job tomorrow. Youwouldn’t have to deal with the pain of Jake going off to school. All you have to do is take another step forward, then everything will be fine. You will be okay, and it will go on forever. Darkness always went on forever.
He would be lost.
He shook his head and took a step back. There it was again. That voice getting into his head. He kept hearing it, that urging trying to pull him in, but it was stronger this time, more distinct. He had felt it, and…
And he wanted it. He had wanted to give in. Just step forward and he would be a part of it. This was all getting insane, none of it making sense.
He took another step back, then another, before he turned away and started walking through the thorns.
Jake, confused, watched as his dad walked away. He didn’t acknowledge him, but just walked like a zombie back through the thorns.
“Dad!” Jake called as he rushed to catch up.
CHAPTER 18
How many hours had it been since she’d lost him? How long had she thought she would never see her little angel again? Too long, and she never wanted to feel that way again. She was never going to let her baby out of her sight. He would never be allowed to go anywhere without a chaperone.
“I'm going to my room,” Joel said when he walked through the door. He announced it so loud, Samantha wasn't sure if he were telling her or his father, who was God knows where in the house. With how she yelled at him earlier, he was probably in the garage working on his roadster, getting it ready for the weekend.
“You need to eat first.”
“Mom...” The sound of him whining her name, as though he were still a five-year-old, was uncalled for. It wasn't like she would tell him he couldn’t go to his room. He just needed to eat first.
“How about I make you some corn dogs and mac n’ cheese?”
“Fine.”
“It'll just take a minute.”
“Okay, but I'm going to wait in my room.”
“You go do that.” She really wished he would stay with her as she cooked, but she figured he should be fine in his room.
* * * *
Joel walked in and closed the door. Turning on his television, he flopped onto his bed. Why did he have to have such an embarrassment for a mother? She hugged him in front of his friends. How could she do that to him? She even did it in front of that little brat. Now he’d have to pound it out of their memories tomorrow morning before they got it into their heads that he was soft.
Joel was not now nor would he ever be a pussy. Tomorrow, he would get that Alletto kid alone and kick his ass. Everyone would know he wasn’t soft after that. Did he think he could just hang ou
t with them and talk to his best friend? He acted like they gave a shit about him. Well, that wasn’t going to last. Alletto would soon realize he was shit after Joel wiped him from the bottom of his shoe.
“We’re out of corn dogs, but we have hot dogs. Would those be okay?” his mother called from outside his door.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“Fine.”
“So hot dogs will be okay?”
“Sure.”
“Okay. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Why don’t you come out and spend some time with us while it cooks.”
Joel didn’t answer. He grabbed his iPad and put on a large pair of headphones, white skulls over the earpieces. They muffled the sounds of the outside world. He hit PLAY and let the world fade around him, closing his eyes to lose himself in the beat.
The music soothed him and he felt himself go, the rhythm pushing and pulling, the air dancing.
Who the hell were all these people who thought they could make me feel like crap? Why had she hugged me?
None of it mattered as the beat continued to throb, his heart moving in time.
“Mama, ma-ma-ma-mama, just killed a man…”
The song, a remix of some crap song his dad listened to, cried out to him as he mouthed the words. This was his world. They all just served him, and he was now gone.
“Killed, killed, killed, killed, killed a man…”
The song kept repeating, the beat getting louder. At first, it seemed so natural. Even though he had heard the song a thousand times before, he never noticed the repetition. He listened to it as it continued to crescendo. When it grew painfully loud, he was dragged back to this world, realizing there must be a glitch in the track. He knew it never went on this long, just repeating itself, screaming “killed” over and over.
He pulled the headphones off, opening his eyes to the dim light of the room. He felt the headache as soon as he sat up against his headboard. He must have drifted off. He hadn’t even realized he had been that tired. Sure, he had a long day, and it wasn’t every day that one of your friends came up missing.
Yeah, Bobby was an ass, but he had also been part of the crew. It would have been like if Danny or John came up missing. He’d be upset, even though he knew they were both dickwads. He’d be more upset if Danny came up missing because they’d been friends since they learned how to walk. John, on the other hand, was a tool who took up the mantle of being a douchenozzle like his old man. He’d miss him, but he could do without him.
Bobby, though, was someone Joel could relate to. Sure, he was a grade above Joel and ruled the eighth grade, but they still occasionally hung out, roughing up a few kids. It was never that much, but he knew him and Em, the girl he was always with. They made a good team and didn’t take crap from anyone. They took some lunch money, and Joel might have been around on occasion. Those days, they’d let him sit in and throw a few punches, even sharing the spoils.
Bobby especially liked to beat the holy jesus out of his younger brother, and Joel was always inclined to help. Mikey was the same age as Joel, but was a lot smaller. Maybe that was why Bobby allowed Joel to be around. He was often mistaken for being older.
He looked back at the headphones in his hands. He could hear the increasingly loud chant. Killed echoed through his thoughts, working into his body. The voice was distinct, not like the vocals he had been listening to. It had grown deeper and distorted.
“Piece of junk,” he muttered, hitting the STOP button on the iPad. The chanting continued. The large round button clicked as he pressed again and again, worried he would break the damn thing. He became frantic, suddenly not caring if he broke it. He slammed his thumb on the button repeatedly. He felt himself start chanting along with the voice.
“Killed, killed, killed,” he cried, tears stinging his eyes as he focused both hands on getting the iPad to stop. When it wouldn’t, he pulled the cord of the headphones, then tossed the device across the room. However, the hollow voice continued from the little speakers of the earpieces.
“Stop it!”
He threw the headphones and grabbed his blankets. He balled them up and threw them over the headphones, but he could still hear it. In fact, it had gotten louder, becoming more distorted. He could almost feel the voice pounding into him.
They were cheap plastic, which was breakable. He should know. He’d broken many, and how did he break them? He stomped on them.
He brought his foot crashing down, hearing the loud crunch of the plastic as it snapped. Thankful for the blankets, it didn’t hurt as much as he thought. He brought his foot down again and again, pounding the piece of possessed demonware to the deepest pits of hell. He didn’t normally believe in that crap, but those things were clearly messed up.
The room shook with his continued assault, but he wasn’t going to let up. He wanted to smash them into pieces. It became rhythmic. His foot came down, the rattle of glass in the pictures on the dresser, a slight pause, then his foot came down again. It was almost like music, and he slammed his foot down in time to the beat.
He chanted, “Killed, killed, killed.”
He stopped, his chest heaving with the exertion, the room spinning a little as he caught his breath. It didn’t matter, though, because the chanting continued. He heard that lost voice, then himself. They spoke in tandem. As he tried to focus on stopping himself, his own voice grew louder.
Something was wrong. Why hadn’t his mom or dad come to see if he was okay? Normally, all he had to do was step heavily in his room and he’d hear a knock. Where were they? His mother had said she would be back in a couple minutes with something to eat. It had to have been at least that. Why hadn’t she knocked on his door? This was all very wrong.
He looked around the room. It was quiet. Nothing had fallen over, which was strange, considering his stomping earlier. The family picture his mother insisted he keep on his dresser still stood in its frame. That should have fallen and been in pieces on the floor.
“Mom?!” He wanted to scream for her, but he couldn’t stop himself from chanting long enough. His mouth kept moving, Joel having no control over it.
He walked to the door and pulled it open. He had to find her. If she saw him, she’d call a doctor, maybe even a priest to give him one of those exo…exo… Whatever it was that got rid of demons. Yeah, he needed one of those. She’d call the priest and he could come take care of him.
He stopped in the open doorway, afraid to take another step. It was really dark in the house. Really, really dark. Like he couldn’t see anything beyond his room kind of dark.
“Mom?”
Why couldn’t he see the television? His dad would usually watch TV, Joel being able to see the glow of it from his room. His dad always watched the news this time of night.
But he saw nothing.
“Mom, how’s supper coming?”
Was that his voice cracking? He wasn’t scared. Not him. So why did he take a step back into his room, slowly easing the door closed as he did?
His room felt colder. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but there was a definite chill.
He hadn’t closed the door all the way. He was trying not to, holding out hope that he would see the flicker of the lights or the TV returning from some technical difficulty. In the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t some technical issue and the power hadn’t gone out. Something wasn’t right, and he needed to get out of there.
A shape appeared just outside his door. It looked like a person, but even though he saw arms and legs, his gut told him not to trust it. In those old horror movies, those body snatcher things looked like people, too. He had stayed up many times past when his parents went to bed and watched all those old flicks. This could be one of those things, coming out of the dark. It would reach out and take him.
He waited, expecting the eyes to start glowing red. They were going to, right? This thing was an alien, there to take him up to its spaceship. That was what these things did. Maybe that
was what happened to Bobby. Holy crap, it really was aliens.
It was too dark to really see much of the figure’s details. Maybe if he got closer… Instead, he took another step back, letting go of the door. That was a mistake. He should have closed it. He had a moment to debate with himself before it came closer and he took another step back.
He had started to shiver, the room feeling like ice. He looked around, trying to see what had made it so cold. Had a window been opened? His mother might have earlier, although that wasn’t like her.
Suddenly, he wasn’t in his room anymore. Everything around him was black. That wasn’t right. He had been lying on his bed, walked past the dresser to open the door, blankets on the floor. All of it was gone.
He looked back at the shape as it got closer. Joel could now see it was shorter than he was. Something about the way it walked told him it was a boy, one he vaguely recognized.
“Killed, killed, killed.”
He knew he had stopped chanting for a while, but realized the moment he started again. Each time he said the words, a tentacle of the darkness wrapped around him. First, it took his legs, rooting him in place, then his arms. He was held there, not able to see what had him or where he was. He watched, helpless, as the shape approached.
Then he recognized the figure. He tried to scream, but the chant continued.
“Killed, killed, killed.”
* * * *
Samantha finished in the kitchen and walked past the waste of life sitting in his easy chair, watching some damned news broadcast. He had emerged from the garage shortly after they returned and had gone straight to the La-Z-Boy. He would be glued to the TV until his stomach screamed for supper, then he would wonder where his meal was. It wasn’t uncommon for her to cook multiple meals because no one wanted to eat what someone else was having. She was sure her husband would have issues with what she made Joel. She didn’t try to make enough for two people anymore. What was the point?