And why would they?
His inner monologue chimed in.
After all, they would have been long gone before this guy showed up.
The slimy, sick feeling in his stomach returned when he realised on countless occasions he could have escaped. He could have run away from this crazy man. His wife was safe and he could do that now, run to her and leave this freak behind, and yet… He looked at the dead woman and child hung from the porch. Sure enough, they weren’t his wife or child, nevertheless, they were somebody’s family. Somebody somewhere was waiting for them to get home, and now, because of the deranged freak who was lumbering down the stairs, they never would. He felt the change, it was as if a switch somewhere deep inside him had been flicked, and the flight instinct had switched to the other setting. The one where people did things outside of their nature. He wasn’t stupid of course, and would have fought the instinct had he not seen the gun in the living room doorway.
The entire thought process had taken seconds. He glanced back into the house. The man from Trans Energy was still waddling down the stairs, favouring his damaged knee. He was still unhurried, still whistling. He was either supremely confident or too far gone to really know what was happening.
“Lucky escape there squeaky Squeaker,” He said as Billy staggered towards the kitchen, snatching up the gun on his way and wondering if he would still be able to use it with his weaker left hand. His right was completely out of the question. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, and imagined he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. It was both the biggest high and most harrowing, horrifying experience in his life all rolled into one. He stood by the table, sparing a quick glance to the corpse of Alex slumped in the corner.
The man from Trans Energy entered the room, ignoring the gun that was pointed at him. He started to speak, but Billy had heard enough. In a single fluid motion, he flicked off the safety and fired.
Gnurk.
That was all the man had said before the room was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire. The top half of his face exploded in a shower of claret and bone, the other three bullets hitting him in the chest. He staggered backwards into the kitchen counter, then rolled off and down into the cellar, his body making a tremendous noise as it crashed down into the dark. Streaks of blood and brain dripped down the back of the open cellar door as Billy fell to his knees in exhaustion, still trying to fire the weapon even though it was empty. Tears rolled down his cheeks and into the corner of his mouth, the salt mixing with the blood he could already taste.
Gnurk.
Billy wondered what it was he was about to say before he shot him in the face.
Gnurk.
It sounded like it belonged in the same bracket as Snifferblobs and Squeakers and all the other crazy shit the man had so passionately talked about. An emotion came over Billy he hadn’t expected. He felt guilt and even sorrow for taking another man’s life. Sure enough, people would say he did what he had to, and it was a case of live or die, but those people would be able to sleep at night. They wouldn’t have to live with what had happened for the rest of their lives.
He carefully got to his feet and looked around the horrific scene in his kitchen. The police would need to be called. Statements taken. He was sure it would even make the news. The last thing he wanted was to have his picture plastered all over the television screen, but the fact was there were five dead bodies in his house, one of which he was responsible for.
A wave of nausea came without warning, and he barely made it to the sink before he vomited. Even when there was nothing left to eject, he continued to retch anyway, dry heaving and trying to stop his hands from shaking. His legs felt weak, his stomach light and giddy.
I’m going into shock.
He staggered down the hallway and into the sitting room, falling heavily onto the sofa, chewing over the fact he could go to prison, and although he had always lived by the rules and tried to contribute to society, the one singular decision to make the phone call to the power company had skewed his life off track in the worst possible way. He managed to fish his phone out of his pocket with his working hand and opened up the menu. The dull blue light felt good as it illuminated the room a little, pushing some of the shadows back into the corners. He looked at the display, and scrolled down to Angeline’s number, but couldn’t bring himself to dial. How could he possibly explain? How could he tell her what had happened to their home? How can he tell her what he had been forced to do in order to protect them? With a marriage which was already close to breaking point, would she even understand? One thing he was certain of, however, was his own experience of being so close to death had given him a brand new appreciation of life. And more importantly, how much he did actually love his family. When all the bullshit was stripped away, all the money, jobs and affairs and even psychotic home invaders, it was the desire to love and be loved that prevailed. He so desperately wanted to hear her voice, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to make the call. Because part of him, deep down, couldn’t handle what would happen if she didn’t pick up. That thought process sparked another idea, one which was as unwelcome as the man who had come to fix the power had been.
What if he got to her after all?
He thought it was unlikely, in fact, had convinced himself of it. The fact was, he had no way of knowing, not really. Still unsure what he would say if she answered, he pushed dial and lifted the handset to his ear.
Two rings.
Three.
Four.
“Hello?”
He had intended to calmly tell her what had happened, and explain he was okay, but the sound of her voice opened the floodgates, and he began to sob, crying unconsciously and without shame or embarrassment.
“Billy? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Are you okay?” He croaked.
“Are you crying? You're scaring me Billy.”
“Please, just tell me, are you okay, both of you?”
“Everything’s fine here, we're about to eat dinner.”
“And Tyler?”
“He’s fine too. What’s happening?”
“Is he there, can you see him?”
“He’s watching TV right in front of me. You better tell me what’s happening right now.”
He didn’t think he would be able to, and had intended to spare her the gory details, but he found as he began to explain what had happened, the words continued to pour out of him. He had only cried in front of her once before, back when he had found out about her affair. Now as he told her everything, he couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He finished, and there was silence on the other end of the line. He could almost believe she had hung up, or the line hadn’t been connected at all if it wasn’t for the fact he could hear her own ragged breathing on the other end of the phone.
“Have you called the police?” She said her voice wavering.
“Not yet. I wanted to call you first.”
“Are you hurt?”
He didn’t want to worry her but didn’t want to lie either.
“I hurt my shoulder, maybe broken my wrist.”
“Oh god, she began to cry again, and Billy heard her voice become muffled as she asked her mother to take Tyler out of the room. She came back on the line.
“I’m coming straight home. I'm not letting you go through this alone.
“No! You can't be here to see this… Alex is…” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“I’m coming home right now.”
“Don’t bring Tyler,” He said, trying to ignore the raging pain in his arm.
“I’ll leave him here with my mother. Do you want me to call the police for you?”
“No, I’ll do it, better if it comes from me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I killed a man Angie. I... shot him I…”
He couldn’t even finish saying it. His eyes stung, and he would have cried even more if not for the fact he was out of tears.
“Remember how you always tell me that we'll get through whatever life throws at us?”
“Yeah,” He mumbled, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Well, this is no different. I’m bringing dad with me.”
Normally he would have argued against that idea, but not only did he not have the strength, he actually thought having someone there to help would be a good idea, even if it was Angeline’s judgmental father.
“Please hurry…” He said, feeling another wave of nausea sweep over him.
“I’m scared Billy,” She whispered down the phone.
“I’m scared too,” He said, and paused before he spoke again.
I love you.
It sounded like such a simple thing to say in his mind, yet despite everything that had happened, those three little words still wouldn’t come.
No matter how much he meant it and wanted her to know, for some reason, he still couldn’t express it verbally. Instead, he cleared his throat as his phone chimed in his ear to indicate the battery was running low.
“Look, I have to call the police. I’ll call you back in a few minutes okay?”
“Billy? Are we going to be okay?”
“Of course, we are. We'll be fine.” He lied and did it well. Or at least,, he hoped so. The line grew silent, and he wondered if she too was struggling to formulate a way to say those three words which had been impossible to utter since their respective affairs. His phone angrily beeped again in his ear, and he knew he had to hurry.
“Look, my battery is low. I need to make this call now okay? I’ll call you right back.”
He ended the call before she could protest, feeling like a cold, heartless bastard for not giving his wife the reassurances she needed. But he had another call to make, one which would change his life forever. He looked at the display, which for the third time expressed its demand for power.
He punched in the number for the police, hoping the charge would last long enough for the call to go through. It was then he heard the sound. It was a dull scrape, a subtle noise that would have otherwise gone unheard if the house wasn’t so quiet. Although there was no way to be certain, he knew deep down exactly where that stealthy scrape had come from.
It was in the basement.
He clutched the phone hard as he held his breath and listened, and heard it again, a dull, subtle scrape. In the movies, this was the point where some overconfident teen might go to investigate, but that was completely out of the question. He was too exhausted and too afraid. Instead, he finished his call, waiting for the line to connect to the police operator as he stood and walked behind the sofa, crouching there and ensuring there was something between him and whatever that noise was.
Just in case.
The line connected, and he whispered down the phone.
“This is Billy St John, I need assistance immediately. There is someone in my house... he’s already killed people and now he’s after me. I shot him. I don’t think he’s dead. Please! Send somebody now!”
He waited for the response but was greeted with silence.
“Hello, hello?” He repeated. It was only when he looked at the phone he realised what had happened. Tired of giving warnings about its pending death, the phone had shut down. He knew this, but lifted it to his ear again anyway, because he had to try. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
“Hello! Please!” He said, desperate and afraid. He threw the phone across the room and pounded his fist on the floor in frustration. It was then the goose flesh climbed up his arms and down his back because this time there was no mistake.
He heard it slithering out of the basement. Impossible as it was, the sound was easy to pick out in the utter stillness of the house. It was impossible because Billy had shot the man in the Trans Energy uniform in the face from close range, sending his body tumbling down there in the first place. Now he was back, and Billy had neither ammo nor the strength left to run. In the movies, the hero always had a plan, always had an idea. In reality, there was only the cold grip of fear and the certainty his life was now almost certainly over.
As he cowered in the darkness behind the sofa, his broken arm and shoulder throbbing in agony, he was grateful at least Tyler and Angeline would be safe, no matter what was about to happen to him.
He could hear it now, the thing from the basement, dragging itself across the kitchen tiles towards where he hid. As if that idea wasn’t surreal enough, it had started to whistle that tune again. The one he was sure was from an old movie or TV show but couldn’t quite place, only now it was garbled and wet, a sloppy half slurped expulsion of air.
Although he knew it was empty, he checked the gun hanging limply in his one good hand anyway, wishing he had saved a bullet for himself. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, and for as much as he could wish to go back and change things, he couldn’t, because what was done was done, and what would be would...
Silence.
The slithering and whistling had stopped, but rather than relief, it brought only fresh terror raging through Billy, as he would rather hear it and know where it was, than not hear it and risk it sneaking up on him. He checked the perimeter of the room, wishing for the lights to come back on, wishing those shadow heavy draped corners of the room were visible enough to give up their secrets. Most of all, he wished he had told his wife and son he loved them before he had sent them away. He supposed they knew, but he still didn’t say it nearly often enough, and if, by some miracle he survived this, he promised himself he would make sure that changed.
A thud from the hallway snapped him back to the present, and he licked his lips, which were suddenly dry despite the sweat which was pouring out of him. He knew the man in the Trans Energy uniform was outside the door. He just knew. Billy tightened his grip on the gun, ignoring the little voice in his head told him it was now useless, reminding himself it had been useless even when fired at point blank range because the thing in the cellar had taken it, and come back anyway. But it felt good to be holding it in his hands, and any comfort he could get was worthwhile.
He fought the urge to scream as the door creaked open, and the slithering thing entered. He had just about succeeded when the thing on the floor started to whistle again, that wet throaty sound which reignited his horror, as it sounded even more disgusting from a few feet away. As he cowered, Billy asked himself the same question that had been racing around his mind since the entire thing began.
Why did this happen to us?
The slithering thing stood, extending to its full height. For the first time, Billy wished the darkness was more complete if only so he wouldn’t have to look at the thing standing in front of him. For the most part, it still resembled the man from Trans Energy. The upper half of its overalls were now soaked with blood, and something in its nervous system seemed to be damaged, as it twitched madly. Its face was still recognisable too, although the skull was now misshaped, skewed off centre around where the bullet had entered just above its right eye, which had been pushed out onto the cheek. A flap of skin hung over its ear and Billy could see it was a matted mass of blood, bone and hair. He tried to figure out where that part came from, where it fit in the regular human anatomy, and realised it must be from the back, maybe thrown there when the bullet exited and was now somehow hanging down the side of the things face. One of the bullets Billy thought had hit the man in the chest must have actually hit his face because there was another ugly opening on its cheek, and Billy could see the glistening remains of shattered teeth beyond.
How is he even alive?
It spoke, the sound wet and pulpy as it manipulated its shattered mouth.
“I can still smell you Snifferblob,” It said, even attempting a bloody grin.
Billy threw the gun, watching as it bounced harmlessly off the man’s chest and clattered to the floor.
“Leave us alone!” He yelled. The thing in the doorway didn’t respond or move. It simply watched him.
“I can’t do that, mommy. I have t
o peel you and look inside. It’s the rules.”
Billy looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon, but nothing came close to being usable.
“Please,” He said. “You have it wrong, there aren’t any Snifferblobs here.”
“Heh!” He snorted, dislodging the flappy piece of skin from his cheek. “That’s exactly what a Sniffer like you would say. I can smeeeeellllllllll them in here.”
“You have it wrong. You need help.” Billy said, knowing he should be trying to escape, but equally aware his body wouldn’t move even if he wanted it to.
The shattered faced thing tilted its head as another flap of skull dislodged from the back and slopped down onto its shoulder.
“I’m not crazy if that’s what you think.” It slurred in its phlegmy, wet, Texas accent. “You people never see the truth until it’s too late.”
Billy’s eyes flicked to the window. Hundreds of westerns he had watched as a child flashed through his brain, and he thought he was now desperate enough to try and jump through the glass and escape. Although it was dangerous, he would gladly take the cuts and bruises over the certain death from… from whatever was standing there in his living room, because he was starting to realise whatever the thing in the Trans Energy overalls was, it simply wasn’t human. Not fully.
Billy started to laugh, and it frightened him because he had no idea where it came from. Even the Trans Energy man looked puzzled, as Billy’s chuckles transformed into howling laughter.
“What’s so funny Sniffer?” It slobbered as crimson drool ran down its chin.
“This,” He said, flicking his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “This whole situation is… is…” he couldn’t get the words out such was the intensity of laughter. His stomach ached and his eyes streamed with tears. “This is so… fucking absurd, you have to laugh…”
The thing across the room seemed to relax slightly, perhaps thrown off by the unexpected reaction, and that precise second was exactly what Billy had been waiting for. Still cackling, he lurched to his feet and charged for the window, wondering if something inside him was broken, perhaps his brain was now permanently damaged beyond repair, because although he wanted to, he simply couldn’t stop laughing. Whatever it was, he would deal with it later. Right now, escape was his only thought. He was almost at the window and went over his actions in his head.
Forgotten Fears Page 7