House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  Hell, she might already be dead.

  That made Mac incredibly depressed as he pressed the button on his portable radio and screamed into the microphone about needing fire and rescue.

  He couldn’t think about Claire already meeting her end. He would enter the house to try to find her.

  Mac popped his trunk and grabbed his gas mask. It wasn’t much, but it would help.

  He told his dispatch his plans and they answered that fire and rescue were on their way to the scene.

  Mac also carried an ax inside his trunk. He grabbed that and ran up to the steps without further answering his dispatch.

  He didn’t even think before he swung the ax at the door and broke the glass. He turned the knob and ignored the heat of the metal as he entered the house.

  Yellow flames had already consumed most of the kitchen and were moving down the hallway burning anything and everything in their path.

  “Claire!” Mac shouted through the mask. Smoke billowed above him. The mask was already failing from the heat and the smoke and Mac coughed a few times before he shouted again. “Claire!”

  Mac didn’t know if Claire was in the kitchen. He couldn’t get close enough to see if she’d been trapped there.

  He tried to bite his lip to keep from bursting out in sobs thinking she may have already met her fate.

  “Oh, God,” Mac muttered as he took a few steps further into the house.

  “Oh, God, Claire,” Mac muttered trying not to think the worst.

  “Attic!”

  Mac stopped in his tracks when he heard the tiny voice echo through his ears.

  “What…. What?”

  “Attic. She’s there.”

  Mac turned around 180 degrees trying to figure out where the child’s voice was coming from.

  He looked and thought he saw a figure on the steps.

  “Hey!” He called. “Who are you?”

  “Attic. Hurry.”

  Mac turned around. He knew fire and rescue would be five minutes out before arriving on the scene.

  Attic… was Claire in the attic?

  Black smoke filled the air as the fire spread through the back of the house. Mac had minutes only before this place was consumed and they’d all die agonizing deaths.

  Adjusting his mask, Mac closed his eyes for just one split second before saying a prayer. He then rushed up the stairs taking and reached the landing within seconds.

  A small, dark figure jumped up and down in the distance. Most of its body was obscured by smoke, but Mac could see it pointing to something along the wall.

  Mac didn’t want to think about what this thing was, all he cared about was finding Claire and getting the hell out of there before they succumbed to the fire.

  As he took off in a run down the hall, the small figured vanished in front of his eyes, but Mac didn’t have time to process what he was seeing as he looked for Claire.

  Mac came to a closed door. This was the attic. The dark figure was trying to tell him how to get to Claire.

  Hearing wood creak and groan around him, Mac threw open the door and ran up the stairs with his weapon ready.

  He knew he should slow down and be more cautious because Shirley could be hiding anywhere and jump him.

  Mac forced himself to slow his pace as he held his weapon in front of him and pressed his body against the wall. His heart pounded inside his rib cage, his breaths were shallow and fast from not knowing what he’d find inside the attic once he reached the top of the stairs.

  He perked his ears trying to hear any kind of strange sound that would alert him to Shirley’s whereabouts, but the mixture of blood rushing through his veins and stairs creaking under his boots made it hard to listen for a possible attack.

  Mac reached the landing and spotted the light bulb flickering above him.

  “Shirley!” He yelled. “Tell me where Claire is. Let me know she’s safe. We need to get out of here.”

  No answer.

  Mac’s eyes searched the attic and from what little light Mac had, he spotted a figure lying on a bed in the right corner. He could make out legs placed in a fetal position.

  Who was on the bed? He couldn’t see but it had to be Claire.

  With one swift movement, Mac grabbed his flashlight and shined it over the figure and found it was indeed Claire.

  “Claire!” He shouted. “Claire, can you hear me?”

  His eyes darted around trying to find Shirley while he cautiously moved closer to Claire.

  Smoke was filling the room. He thought it was penetrating his gas mask and he couldn’t help but cough a few times when he inhaled.

  More creaking and groaning of wood shook the house on its very foundation.

  They had only minutes or maybe it was too late but Mac wasn’t ready to give up. He would grab Claire and get them out of the house somehow.

  “Claire?”

  Mac’s heart sank. She didn’t answer him. She didn’t stir from her place on the bed.

  He sucked in a breath hoping he wasn’t too late.

  “Claire?” He called out.

  He approached the bed and could see she’d been thrown sloppily onto it. He shined the light on her face and saw a streak of blood running down from her forehead to her chin.

  Mac sucked in another breath as he moved the flashlight to her chest. Seeing her chest move up and down made him breathe a sigh of relief.

  His eyes searched the attic. His body tensed when he thought about Shirley knowing every corner of this attic unlike him.

  “Wake up. We need to go,” he said to Claire.

  Mac turned to search for Shirley. He thought he heard the screeching sound of sirens in the distance, but with the groaning noises of the house, it was hard to tell.

  He had to act quickly. He would grab Claire, and run out of the house, hoping that Shirley was no longer a threat.

  Mac searched the room. His eyes squinted from the smoke filling the attic. Time was not on their side.

  “Shirley. I know you’re here. Come out, and we’ll talk about this once we get out of here,” Mac ordered. “It’s over.”

  Mac’s eyes tried to adjust to the smoke. His vision was becoming blurry. The smoke was penetrating his crappy gas mask, so he took the remove it.

  Mac flung it off his face and left it at his feet, again, holding up his weapon.

  “We’re dying, Shirley,” Mac said. “Do you really want that?”

  Mac thought he heard a noise. He turned to look to his right when he spotted a face close to his.

  “Yes.”

  Mac heard the shot and a white, hot pain started in his calf, shot up through his body all the way to the top of his head.

  He hadn’t been sure if he screamed or moaned, but all he remembered was falling to the wooden floor. The wood was warm against his face and becoming hotter by the second.

  The room was spinning. Sweat poured down his brow and stung his eyes. His stomach turned from the pain and he thought he would lose the contents of his stomach at any moment.

  His vision was blurred, but he could see a big figure standing over him. He heard a female’s voice as darkness swept over him. He tried to blink but the pain was intense. All he could think was falling asleep to make it disappear.

  Mac tried to focus and finally, the spinning subsided for a few brief seconds.

  Shirley stood over him coughing from the smoke filling the room.

  Her body moved and Mac heard his weapon slide across the floor.

  “I didn’t know if we would have company or not, but here you are,” Shirley said with a sneer. “You’ll see your son again soon, Mac.”

  Mac wouldn’t give up. He needed to fight for their lives.

  36.

  C laire was enjoying her beautiful dream before she was jerked awake by a loud pop.

  She’d been dreaming she was sitting in the emerald colored grass near Kinsey House, with the warm sun shining down on her, the sky a clear blue. She grinned when she saw her whole family s
itting in a circle around her, including Mary and Clay.

  Her father, mother, and her grandparents were there. Laughing, talking, and enjoying the beautiful weather as Rose walked out with a tray full of ice-cold glasses of iced tea.

  She was a young girl sitting on her father’s lap while her mother handed her part of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  Rose sat down and everyone grabbed their glasses. They toasted their good lives among their respective families.

  Claire ate her sandwich, but her gaze caught something strange. There was a playpen sitting next to her mother. She thought it was odd the playpen appeared to be empty.

  Wasn’t David supposed to be playing inside the playpen?

  Claire’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Her mother asked.

  “Where’s David, Mommy?”

  Everyone sitting in the circle stopped either mid-bite or mid-drink and lowered their eyes. They exchanged glances while Claire caught her mother shooting daggers at Rose. Rose turned away with a guilty face.

  “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

  Janie turned back to her daughter and held her gaze. She leaned over and placed her hand over her daughter’s hand.

  “You’ll make a hard decision, Claire, and then he’ll be free,” Janie said.

  “What do you mean, Mommy?” Young Claire asked.

  “Wake up, Claire,” her father said softly into her hair.

  Claire sat up on the bed inside the attic. She was immediately hit with smoke and had to stifle a cough. Her eyes burned as the smoke hovered above her.

  She placed a hand over her head and quietly moaned when she found the huge lump on her forehead.

  She tried clearing her mind from the fuzziness and the overwhelming urge to go back to sleep.

  Claire’s eyelids flung open when she heard a male voice cry out in pain and Shirley say something to it.

  Claire lifted her head, although it was painful, and tried to focus her eyesight on the scene in front of her.

  Mac! She screamed silently.

  He was on the floor of the attic holding his leg. He tried to roll away from Sue who stood over him with her gun, laughing at his struggles.

  His hands were extended like he was searching for something, but Shirley would either step on his hand or kick him in the side making him cry out in pain.

  Claire thought she heard noises outside the house. The fire was spreading quickly as the smoke thickened inside the attic.

  If she didn’t make a decision, they’d all die.

  Claire struggled to sit up. She didn’t have time to think about the dizziness nor the fuzziness threatening to render her unconscious again.

  She reached down inside and grabbed every ounce of her strength and find a weapon.

  While Shirley taunted Mac, Claire turned over in the bed, her eyes scanning the room to find anything to take Shirley by surprise.

  Her eyes fell to the floor and her heart sank in her chest.

  She closed her eyes remembering her mother’s words from her dream.

  Claire looked over at Mac. He caught her eye but didn’t react. Shirley stood over him laughing maniacally at his struggles. He tried to stand, but each time he was pushed back down by Shirley and cried out in pain.

  She hadn’t noticed Claire had awoken.

  Claire no longer had time to think, she could only react. She held back her tears knowing she would never be the same, but she would not let herself or Mac die in this attic.

  Mac’s radio crackled. They were looking for him. They said they were at the house, and asked about his location. Mac couldn’t answer.

  Claire carefully reached over and grabbed the gun. She knew little about them except the safety. She could only hope that Mac had a bullet in the chamber.

  She found the safety. It was ready to fire.

  “I think I’ll kill you now,” Shirley said. “I want Claire’s last vision to be your body when she wakes up.”

  Mac turned over on his back like he was waiting for the shot.

  Shirley aimed her gun at Mac’s head. Claire aimed the gun straight at her.

  She fought an inner battle on what she was going to do next, but she would not let Mac die.

  She never thought about what it would be like to take a life. A human life. The heroes in her books stabbed people with their swords so easily. They never gave it a second thought as they moved onto the next chapter and kissed the heroine.

  Real life was not that simple. This would haunt her for the rest of her time on Earth.

  But, Claire pulled the trigger anyway.

  She was thrown back a little, taken by surprise at how loud a gun was. Her right ear started ringing right after the gun fired.

  The tears streamed down her face knowing she truly had this family’s blood coursing through her veins. She was now a part of their sick little club. One in a long line who caused death to another human.

  Shirley grasped her chest and sucked in a garbled breath.

  She turned and stared at Claire with a look of shock—then admiration? Was that the look on her face?

  Shirley staggered back a few steps and dropped her gun. Mac immediately turned over and grabbed it pointing it at Shirley and telling her not to move.

  A line of blood dripped from Shirley’s lips and she smiled at her niece. She never gave Mac a second glance.

  “You’re a Kinsey,” she gasped and fell to the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath her.

  Claire dropped the gun onto the bed and stared at her aunt’s body.

  37.

  C laire couldn’t breathe. She gagged as the smoke billowed into the attic. Mac’s radio was going insane. She heard static, talking, more static, and constant yelling.

  “Claire, open a window,” Mac yelled out. “Tell them we’re up here. Grab something to wave at them to tell them we’re up here. They’re trying to find our location.”

  Claire was still in shock from what she did, so she had a hard time hearing what Mac was instructing her to do.

  “Claire, we’re going to die if you don’t do it!” Mac screamed at her.

  Claire came out of her trance and ran over to the window, ignoring the dizziness that swept through her from her pounding headache. Her lungs were screaming for fresh air, and she knew she could pass out again if she inhaled too much smoke.

  She clawed at the plastic with her fingernails until a small hole opened up and then ripped off as much plastic as she could until the glass was clear in front of her.

  She frantically looked around for an object heavy enough to break the glass.

  Was it too late? Were they trapped?

  She heard the house groan again and then felt the wood shaking beneath her feet.

  Oh, God, she thought. It’s too late.

  She first tried opening the window herself. She cried in frustration when she found the clasp rusted shut. The window had been painted over several times adding to her difficulty trying to open it.

  She could see fire trucks, ambulances, and tons of cop cars below her.

  She saw the water spraying on her right onto the house. She could see where the fire had already burned through the wood and soon they would be next.

  “I can’t…” She gasped. “I can’t open it!”

  “Stay calm,” Mac said. “You can do it.”

  Claire banged on the window with her fists. She covered her mouth with her shirt and stifled back gags from the smoke. The heat was becoming unbearable and burning her skin as the seconds ticked away.

  She heard Mac yell into his radio.

  “I don’t know if they heard me,” he said dropping it at his side.

  Claire stepped over Shirley’s body, ignoring the blood flowing from beneath her, and grabbed a golf club she spotted sitting in the corner. She ran back over ignoring her screaming lungs and hit the glass. She swung again, but the glass wouldn’t budge. A few small cracks, but nothing to make an impact.

&nbs
p; “Claire?”

  Claire swung again, but she was so weak now from the lack of oxygen she couldn’t break through.

  “Claire?”

  Claire turned when she heard Mac call her name. She saw him staring at the top of the stairs in awe.

  Claire followed his gaze and smiled weakly, dropping the golf club.

  David stood at the edge of the staircase. He was no longer the sickly gray color she’d seen since she first moved into the house. His skin was the perfect peach color, his hair a curly, golden blonde, his blue eyes glowed in the darkness. He had a soft white glow surrounding him.

  “That’s my brother,” Claire said.

  Mac’s eyes were wide with shock from the little boy standing in front of him.

  “Come on,” David ordered. “Get up, Mr. Policeman.”

  “What?” Mac asked.

  David jumped up and down in his spot. He looked between his sister and Mac. “Come on. Right now.”

  Claire knew David would lead them out.

  “What…what does he mean?” Mac asked looking at Claire.

  Claire ran over to Mac and asked, “Can you walk?”

  Mac shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Hurry,” David said. “I can’t stop it much longer.”

  “Mac, you need to walk or they’ll never get to us in time,” Claire said.

  The floor beneath them groaned again. Claire and Mac turned when a heart-stopping noise came from the other side of the attic.

  The floor was collapsing. They had to move.

  “How is he… how can he get us out of here?” Mac asked.

  “Questions later,” Claire said with urgency in her voice, while David jumped up and down in front of them. “We have to go. He’ll help us.”

  Mac shook his head and muttered something that Claire couldn’t understand. Something about ghosts and the afterlife and how he’d never doubt God again.

  He tried three times to stand with Claire’s help, but when they were finally on their feet, Mac moved quickly despite grunting in pain with each step.

  Claire had to keep one eye on Mac and the other on her brother.