What Vengeance Comes

by Strong, Anthony M.

  “Nah.” Chad scratched his head. “Except for Annie Doucet. I tell you, there’s something not right with that woman.”

  “Don’t tell me you think she’s a witch too.”

  “Course not.” Chad shook his head. “She sure is a weird one though. Practically threw me off her porch. I just hope she didn’t decide to stay up there in that hut of hers. Damn thing will probably collapse when the winds hit.”

  “We warned her. Nothing else we can do.”

  “I know,” Chad said. “Next time around you can drive up to the creepy cabin in the woods.”

  “Deal.” Decker scanned the crowd, his eyes flitting from face to face.

  “She’s over by the refreshment table.” Chad pointed toward the far end of the room.

  “Who is?”

  “Nancy Cassidy,” Chad replied. “I swear Decker, you are so obvious sometimes.”

  57

  BEAU GLANCED AROUND. The steady stream of people filing in to the school had slowed to a trickle, nothing more than a few stragglers. There was no point in standing near the door anymore. He briefly contemplated entering the gymnasium, but then he would need to smile and make nice with the town folk all over again, and he wasn’t sure he could do that right now.

  On the other hand, the school was a big place, and there were plenty of quiet corners to sneak a quick smoke. He tapped his trouser pocket to make his cigarettes were there, then slipped away while the corridor was empty, almost running as he reached the double doors leading to the main building.

  With the gymnasium out of earshot, the school was silent and deserted. He breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be away from the packed gymnasium. Still, it felt weird to be so totally alone in a place that usually hummed with so much life, especially with the storm raging outside and rain drumming on the roof.

  “Get it together Beau,” he spoke aloud. The sound of his own voice broke the spell and pushed some of the unease away.

  As he wandered along the corridor, his footsteps echoed off the bare walls. To the left and right he passed empty classrooms, a few of which he stopped to peek inside. When he thought he was far enough away from the gymnasium he stopped, leaned against the wall, and pulled out a cigarette.

  The last time he lit up in this school it ended with a week of detention, and a good thrashing from his father, who held firm to the old saying, spare the rod and spoil the child. The sting of the strap wasn’t the worst of it though, the look of disappointment in his mother’s eyes hurt far more than any physical abuse. But that was a long time ago. His father, the mean old bastard who liked to beat his son with a belt, was rotting in his well-deserved grave, and his mother spent her days in a nursing home outside Baton Rouge, where she stared at the walls and, on the rare occasions he visited her, called him Jimmy. He found this particularly infuriating since the only person of that name she ever knew was their next door neighbor forty years before. She could remember him, but not her own son.

  He fumbled in his pocket for a book of matches, opened it and tore one out. He was about to light the cigarette when the sound of breaking glass reached his ears.

  He paused, the unlit cigarette between his fingers, wondering if he had imagined it. The sound came again. This time there was no mistake.

  He cursed.

  A tree must have come down and bust through a window. That would cost a pretty penny to repair he was sure. Not to mention the damage from the rain if water got in. They would have to rip up the floor, install all new drywall, and rewire the electrics. The flood damage could run into the tens of thousands, and who knew if the school’s insurance policy would cover anything. That would leave his office responsible for finding the money to put everything right and the town coffers were already low. Truth be told, if the highway spur didn’t bring in more business – and the business taxes that came along with that – they might be broke within two years. It wouldn’t be the first time a town filed for bankruptcy.

  He contemplated going back to the gymnasium and finding Decker, but then thought better of it. The sheriff didn’t like him, he could tell. The last thing he wanted was to look like a sissy. Maybe he should take a look himself, assess the damage, before calling in the cavalry.

  Now all he needed to do was to find out exactly where the noise had come from. The corridor had two small windows, one at each end, and the sound would have been much louder if it was either of them, so that left the classrooms.

  He opened the closest door and peeked in, flicking on the light. Everything seemed in order. The tables and chairs were neatly arranged in rows. The plate glass windows, which stretched the length of the far wall, were all intact. He could see nothing out of them except vague shapes in the darkness, trees, cars and other buildings, looking like a murky surrealist painting thanks to the rain hammering at the panes. He closed the door and tried the room across the hall.

  Again nothing. All was as it should be.

  He proceeded down the corridor, going from room to room, checking each one, but found nothing.

  He reached the last door. A faded plastic sign fixed to the wall next to the doorframe read ‘Teacher’s Lounge.’

  He gripped the knob and turned, easing the door open. When he looked in he knew where the sound of breaking glass originated. The room sported three windows, each one equally spaced along the far wall. It was the furthest of these three that was broken. Rain blew through the opening, soaking the carpet and furniture. Papers flew everywhere, caught in the howling gale. He was surprised to see no obvious sign of whatever caused the damage, no fallen tree limb or other flying debris that might have punched out the window.

  He reached for the light switch, but then thought better of it. Water and electricity did not mix well. He pulled his hand back and surveyed the situation as best he could in the light that spilled in from the corridor.

  Despite the obvious damage it really wasn’t too bad. The windows in the teacher’s lounge were smaller than the picture windows in the classrooms, which meant less water would get in.

  Even so, he should make sure the opening was boarded up as soon as possible. The school must have a maintenance guy, and if he were lucky that person would be in the gymnasium right now. He just needed to find them. Even the janitor would do.

  Problem solved.

  He was about to close the door and go in search of whoever might be able to patch up the broken window when he noticed something odd, something that should not be there, in the corner of the room.

  At first it seemed to blend with the background, a lighter black within the shadows, but then it moved, a dark shape that seemed to stretch and elongate.

  Beau froze. Something deep within him, a sixth sense, told him to run and not look back. Only he couldn’t. His legs refused to work.

  A creeping, crawling sensation climbed up his spine. A cold fear engulfed him. Whatever was in the corner of that room was not natural, it should not exist. He did not know how he knew this. Maybe it was some primordial instinct, the same one that taught children to be afraid of the dark, or maybe it was just a premonition. Whichever it was, he suddenly did not want to be there anymore.

  The shape moved again, slinking forward, the shadows falling away from it like a thinning mist.

  Beau watched it move, wanting to look away but unable to do so.

  When it looked up at him, when he saw those unblinking yellow eyes, he finally found his feet.

  58

  DECKER FOUND NANCY at the refreshment table brewing a new batch of her world famous coffee. He smiled. No matter how bad things got, Nancy would always make sure the town didn’t run short of hot beverages.

  “Well hello there stranger.” He slipped his arms around her.

  “Hi yourself.” She twisted around and kissed him, her lips lingering on his. Afterward, she looked up into his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Me too.” He brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I would have gotten here earlier, but…”

  “You were out
keeping the town safe.”

  “Something like that. How’s Taylor?”

  “Oh, pretty much the same. She’s not saying much, keeping all her feelings bottled up. I was hoping she would have come out of herself a little by now.”

  “She will,” Decker said. “Time is a great healer.”

  “I hope so.” Nancy rested her head on his shoulder. “She took off the moment we got here, said she wanted space, whatever that means. She’s been sitting in the corner over there ever since.”

  Decker followed Nancy’s gaze. Taylor was sitting with her back against the wall ignoring the activity around her. “It’s only been a few days since Jake died, give it time.”

  “I know,” Nancy said. “At least she’s stopped reading his text messages over and over again.”

  “There you go.” He held her close, aware of the way her body pushed against him. He remembered how she felt when he made love to her, when she lay next to him afterward. Suddenly he wished that they were anywhere but here.

  “I suppose.” She looked up at him, a tear welling in her eye.

  He wiped the tear away and kissed her forehead, unsure what else he could say to soothe her. Instead he opted to change the subject. “So, how about a cup of your delicious coffee.”

  59

  TAYLOR CASSIDY WATCHED the sheriff and her mother. It didn’t seem fair that they had each other when she didn’t have Jake. In fact almost everyone in the gymnasium had someone, and she was alone.

  It still felt so unreal.

  Maybe she was actually still on the banks of the swimming hole, lying there in her bikini, sleeping in the sun with Jake next to her. Any moment Jake would wake her up and drag her into the cool, clear water. He would pull her close and kiss her, and tell her that he loved her.

  Only he wouldn’t, ever again, because she was not sleeping up at Sullivan’s Pond, she was stuck in this hot, cramped gymnasium with half the damn town, while outside a hurricane raged.

  She suppressed a sob.

  More than anything she wanted to be alone. She was fed up with the sympathetic stares and the soothing voices that told her everything would be better soon, and just to give it time. Screw that. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  She rose to her feet.

  Over at the refreshment table her mother and the sheriff were too tied up with each other to notice what she was doing. Her mother wanted her to stay close, but Taylor could not stand another moment in that room. She felt like she was suffocating.

  She weaved through the throng of people, picking her way toward the door. When she had entered the Mayor was there. Now there was no sign of him.

  She stepped into the corridor and turned left toward the main school building. She wandered for awhile, enjoying her solitude, until she found herself standing in front of a row of lockers.

  Whether she found her way here purposely, or by accident she was not sure, but either way, she knew exactly who owned the locker she now stood in front of.

  She reached out, her fingers playing with the padlock. She hesitated a moment, unsure if she should open the locker. She knew the combination. It was the month and day of Jake’s birthday.

  0216.

  She dialed in the numbers and pulled the lock free, then opened the metal door.

  The inside of the locker contained precisely six items. Three textbooks, an empty lunch box, a denim jacket, and a photo stuck to the inside of the locker door. The photo showed her and Jake several weeks prior, outside of a movie theater in New Orleans. She remembered the night well. It was their second date. After the movie Jake held his phone out and took a selfie of the two of them from arm’s length. He said he wanted to remember that night forever.

  She took the photo down and turned it over. On the back, in Jake’s scrawling handwriting were three words.

  Best night ever.

  She slipped the photo into the back pocket of her jeans, wiping away a tear.

  The books were nothing special. One was a math book, Calculus AP. The other two were history books. She ignored them and pulled out the jacket.

  She was with him the last time he wore the jacket. It was a hot day so he stuffed it in the locker rather than carry it around. She raised it to her nose, burying her face in the soft fabric.

  It still smelled like him.

  She slipped the coat on and pulled it tight around herself. Somehow wearing this jacket made her feel closer to him, as if he were there next to her, as if he was holding her. Suddenly she did not feel so alone.

  She closed the locker door and reset the padlock, intending to return to the gymnasium. She really should have let her mother know where she was going. She didn’t want to worry her.

  Before she could take a step forward, there was a muffled bang somewhere outside, beyond the buildings, and the corridor was plunged into darkness.

  60

  MAYOR THORNTON RAN. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Whatever was crouched in the corner of the teacher’s lounge was on the move. Tables and chairs skidded as it pushed past them. Something crashed to the floor and shattered, a coffee cup maybe, or a plant pot. It was giving chase.

  He slowed and turned, risking a glance back. When he saw what emerged from the teacher’s lounge, he wished he hadn’t. A bolt of fear shot through him.

  It was monstrous.

  Standing erect on two powerful legs, the beast rippled bulging muscle under tough leathery skin. Wicked claws pawed the air below a head straight from his worst nightmares. The creature opened its mouth and let out a guttural bellow, displaying rows of pointed sharp teeth.

  He ripped his eyes away from the terrible visage and ran once more, tearing down the corridor in a blind panic back in the direction of the gymnasium. If only he could make it there he might be safe. The sheriff was there, along with his deputy, and they surely had guns. He was only halfway back when the building lost power.

  The sudden darkness was absolute.

  Thornton slowed and reached his arms out to feel for obstacles, all too aware of what was behind him. All he could hope was that the creature was blinded by the blackout too.

  He felt his way along the corridor, using the wall as a guide, until his hands came to rest on a doorframe. It must be one of the classrooms. He groped around until his palm closed over the door handle and he slipped inside as quietly as he could.

  The classroom was no better than the corridor. When the power went out so had the street lamps outside. Where before light had spilled through the windows, now they were indistinguishable.

  He bumped into a table, the legs scraping along the floor with a high-pitched squeal. He waved his arms around, feeling his way past tables and chairs, until he came to the teacher’s desk. He got down on all fours and crawled underneath, into the space where the chair usually went.

  He held his breath.

  There was no sound, no sign of movement.

  Was the beast still following him? He could not tell. Maybe it didn’t see him duck into the classroom. It was probably still prowling the corridor outside, as blinded as he was. Regardless, this seemed like the safest place to hide. At some point he would be missed, and then maybe the sheriff, or someone else, would come looking for him.

  He pushed back as far as he could under the desk and waited, listening for the slightest sound, but only the steady patter of rain on the roof, and wind blown tree branches tapping against the windows, greeted him.

  Maybe he should try and get back, to warn the others. If that thing got to the gymnasium heaven knew how much carnage it would cause. There was only one problem. Even if he wanted to move, he could not. He would never find his way back without the lights on.

  On the other hand, if he moved, tried to reach the safety of the gym, he might run into that nightmare beast again.

  Better to stay where he was.

  Then he remembered the cell phone in his trouser pocket. He almost cried with relief. If he couldn’t go to Decker, maybe he could bring
the sheriff to him. He reached down, making sure to keep quiet as he pulled his phone out. A thought struck him. Did the cell towers go down when the electric failed? He had no idea, but no doubt he would find out soon enough. Come on, he prayed, taping the screen to wake the device, please let there be a signal.

  The phone lit up, illuminating the small space.

  He jolted backward, smacking his head on the back of the desk. A squeal of fear escaped his lips.

  The beast was right there, hunkered down on all fours, blocking any chance of escape. It sat motionless, its snout inches from his face. He met its gaze, and in that moment thought he saw a flicker of satisfaction deep within those unfathomable yellow eyes.

  The creature let out a snort. Its breath reeked of rotten meat, and something much worse – The stench of death. It opened its jaws, lips curling over black, putrid gums to display rows of wicked sharp teeth.

  Thornton gagged and recoiled in horror.

  He let go of the phone.

  It fell to the floor with a thud, the battery coming loose, plunging the room back into blackness.

  And then the screaming started.

  61

  “WHERE’S TAYLOR?” Nancy cast her eyes around the room.

  Decker shook his head. “I don’t know. Last time I saw her she was sitting against the wall over there.”

  “Well she’s not there now.” A note of panic rose in Nancy’s voice.

  “I’m sure she’s around somewhere,” Decker said. “Maybe she went to the bathroom.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you call her?” Decker said. “She’s sure to have her phone. You know, being a teenager and all.”

  “Good idea.” Nancy pulled a phone from her pocket and unlocked the screen, found the correct number, and lifted the phone to her ear. She frowned. “It’s not ringing.” She studied the screen. “Call failed.”