Evangeline, Alone. (Book 1): Evangeline, Alone

by Styles, M. A.

  “Come on,” Mac nodded at Liam. “Let’s go.” She stepped out of the car leaving him alone inside.

  He reached for the door handle and his fingers slipped off of it as if his hand went numb. So he grabbed again with both and managed to open it. Everyone was standing at the back of the cars, their back doors and hatches open, ready for anything they might find.

  “Ok, this one,” Charlie pointed at the completely enclosed structure. “It’s the one that’s most finished, so I’m going it will probably have the most to offer. Joe, if you could stand out front; Mac at the back, and keep an eye out. We’re ready for whatever could be inside.”

  Joe had already started toward the front of the house and was looking around. Liam’s eyes flickered to all of their sides. Each one had a pistol, at the least. He even saw Doug sitting in the front seat of the shuttle with a rifle across his lap. He started to hear his blood pumping in his ears. He put his fingers on the knife at his side that seemed a lot less useful now.

  “Hey!” Charlie yelled at him, snapping him out of it. “We need you to go around back and start from there. Jack’s going to go in the front and I’ll head upstairs. Ok?”

  “Yeah, yes. Sorry,” he sputtered.

  Charlie’s worried eyes lingered on him for a bit before he continued. “Go in and start kicking out the walls if you can. We need those boards. It’s going to make a lot of noise out here, so move fast. Cara head over to that one.” He stuck a finger out to the one across the cul de sac that was partially completed with outside walls. “There might just be some laying around. Tools, guys! Any kind of tools. Grab ‘em, throw them in the back. Roofing tile, two by fours, anything we can build with, drag ‘em out.” He gave them all a nod and then, “Let’s go!” He turned and headed into the house.

  Mac was already half way to the back before Liam found his feet and jogged after her. When he rounded the corner she was already at the back door, and scanning the woods beyond the would-be back yard. He looked at the back door. A few stairs lead up to it and it was swinging a bit in the light breeze, a few inches open already. A sloppy, misspelled spray painted Were Fucked was scrolled across it in dripping black. A loud bang suddenly sounded from inside the house and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “It’s them inside. Breaking things down, remember?” Mac was still scanning the distance. “You need to get in there. Grab something.”

  More banging came out from the door in rhythmic slamming until a loud crash signaled whatever was being smashed loose had been done so successfully. All he could think about was running right into Charlie as soon as he entered and getting in the way. A stick cracked from somewhere in the wood line and Mac started to take a few steps closer for a better look. Liam watched her go nervously, even though it was only a few steps, and felt even worse for getting even more nervous at that. He shook his head hard and turned back to the house. He noticed a storm door covered in debris. When he got closer he saw a stick was jammed in the doors, holding it open enough for a little light. He slid the overgrowth off of the top door and clasped the metal handle.

  At most he thought some animals probably had gotten in down there, but he’d rather deal with a possible rabid raccoon or defensive cat than what the main worry was out here. He slowly and gently pulled the door open, letting the sunlight spread over the dirt covered cement stairs. A breath of relief left his chest when he saw the suns angle was just right to give him about ten feet of illuminated floor at the bottom.

  One step and then another, until he was in the basement. It smelled of damp and animal piss, plus something else he couldn’t pin down that almost made him gag. He heard some scuffling from the corner, and nearly screamed as a couple of rats scurried deeper into the darkness. Most likely in the direction away from the stairs where the sound of more thuds came from above him. He shuffled his feet little by little, further into the room, letting his eyes adjust a bit more. His foot kicked something causing him to freeze. Slowly, he looked down and immediately thought: snake. Where there’s rats, there’s snakes. But he had never seen a long, skinny, solid bright orange colored snake like that before.

  He carefully bent down, inching his hand closer to it. Just enough to quickly touch it, and pull back in shock at just the mere contact of something unknown. But then his brain processed it and he let out a laugh.

  “A bloody extension cord,” he chuckled, and bent down to gather it up. “I suppose we could always use more of these.”

  He starting tugging in its length from the far side of the room, coiling it around his arm in a nice, neat set of loops. The shushing sound of it sliding along the floor gave him something to focus on away from the now almost constant, anxiety inducing thuds upstairs. They must have found their rhythm now, he thought.

  He knelt down as the cord caught and he realized it must still be plugged in. As he kneeled to give it a good tug hoping to release it from the wall socket, he reached up the rubber coated cable into the darkness and yanked. To his surprise it gave a little, but didn’t release from the wall, which was odd. A few more yanks yielded a few more inches, and he reached up the cord one more time.

  “It’s a plug for God’s sake, Liam,” he said more disparagingly than encouragingly, and wrapped it around his hand a couple times. Then out of the darkness, what was left of a hand lightly grabbed his wrist.

  He fell backwards with a scream, taking the body with him with ease. His mind froze in panic. He couldn’t even find his voice to scream anymore. He stared at something that was closer to a skeleton than a person. Almost all bone save for patches of leathered skin hanging from its head, which now laid on Liams waist. Wisps of hair dangled in front of one torn up eye and the other an empty socket. The bottom jaw had fallen off some time before, and the top only had a few tobacco stained teeth left here and there. Something he’d be thankful for later.

  Suddenly the body was shoved off him, landing at his side. He looked over at it facing him. Its arm was still out stretched. The exposed bones of the tips of its fingers still wiggled toward him slowly. Then a boot came down on its head, flattening out the brittle bone instantly. There were barely enough brains inside to make a mess.

  “You should probably have the knife out and ready in a situation like this,” Mac said as she grabbed his arm and sat him up.

  She had her gun in her hand and reached in her pocket to pull out a small flash light. When she clicked it on and pointed it at the darkness in front of them, the scene was one even she had never seen before. A few more rats scattered to other corners and made it easier to make out.

  On the floor were the remains of at least four bodies. Mac could only hypothesize as to what occurred. Two of them were completely picked clean and left as a stretched out mass of bones. The third was almost to that point. Some clothing still hung to parts, dried flesh to others, but its head and what was inside it was picked clean along with eighty percent of the rest of it. The fourth body was further away. A dark reddish brown circle spread out from it, staining the ground. What used to be the ribs, arms, spine of its body were now strewn about from where its center mass would’ve been. She turned her flash light back to the one she ended, and saw that the darkness was covering the fact it no longer had any legs attached to it. At least from the knee down. She would bet they were laying somewhere with the other bones over at the back wall.

  She walked closer to them, leaving Liam panting and holding his knees to his chest. She followed the length of the cord and saw it led through the remains. A portion of it had gotten looped around the one’s exposed leg bone and Liam had been giving that body one last joy ride. When she got right over the remains of the completely stripped bones, she saw they were all etched with little teeth marks. It seemed like they had the rats to thank for taking care of this group. They must have ate them from the feet up where they stood, one by one, until they fell and they could complete the job. Except for the body in the corner. The rats were not the ones who did that. The light of her flashlight caught a
glimmer under one of the bodies and she kicked a hip bone to the side to get a better look. It was a needle. She knew if she kept looking she would find more, or the same type of thing, but different. That answered any questions she had about what this room had seen and why these people had been there in the first place.

  “Finish rolling that up,” she said, pointing to the partially coiled cord that laid next to Liam. “We look for anything else, and then get out of here.”

  With shaking hands he reached for the end of the cord that was wrapped around the nub of bone, trying to maneuver it with little flicks to unwind it without having to touch it. It wasn’t working. He trembled closer, and as fast as he could, grabbed the orange cable and twirled it around the bone just grazing it with his finger. He clasped his hand to his mouth as he dry heaved.

  Mac looked back at him, then started to scan the whole basement from the center with her flash light, shining the beam in every corner. There were a few plastic buckets by one wall. A small folding table sat off to the side with two metal, dented up folding chairs. She saw a small black form underneath the farthest chair and brought the beam down to check it out.

  “Grab that backpack and check it out.” She wiggled the beam of light over it so Liam would know what she meant. “Just be careful. Don’t stick your hands into it without looking. There might be needles.”

  Liam was clutching the fully coiled extension cable to himself with both hands, eyes still wide. Little tremors of adrenaline and shock still shook through him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His legs wobbled underneath him and it took him a few seconds to fully stand. He watched as Mac started to fold the chairs up and toss them up through the open door with a loud metallic crash. Then she came back for the folding table. Liam bent down and slid his hand through the worn top handle of the pack and started to drag it back towards the steps. Mac stood behind him patiently as he made his way back up and into the sun light. As she dragged the table up, and gave it a toss to join the chairs, she unholstered her gun again and scanned the woodline one more time. The banging inside had stopped.

  “I’m going to go back and grab the buckets,” she said, halfway down the stairs already.

  Liam didn’t hear her. He stayed standing there, staring out into the woods, the backpack dangling from one hand, the extension cord from the other. The sound of his gradually slowing breath filled the silence, his pulse still in his ears. He couldn’t think to move or what to do next. He just looked out into this world like he was a stranger to it. But he wasn’t anymore.

  “Liam!” Mac grabbed his shoulder snapping him out of it. “We can head back around now.” She handed him the two stacked buckets which he added to the strap of the pack in his one hand. She held the two chairs and table in hers. He turned back to her and the house, putting his back to the woods, and watched as she walked back over to the open storm door to the basement. She gave it a kick and it fell back down closed. The force slid the dry, over grown grass and twigs off of it, and he could now see a bright yellow smiley face had been spray painted over it.

  “Come on,” she said, turning back to him before she rounded the corner. The voices of the rest of their party could now be heard.

  He walked with labored, awkward steps, and saw the shuttle was almost fully loaded down its aisle with wood planks and all ready framed out beams. The Jeep’s trunk had a door with no door knob in it, laying on its side diagonally up to the driver’s seat. They had folded one of the back seats down to accommodate it. Mac slid the chairs up against it in the back and then the small folding table. She headed over to Liam as he stood between the two vehicles, unnoticed, and she took the buckets and electrical cord, shoving it inside them to save space. When she tossed it all in the back, the group noticed they were there, and stopped fussing with the shuttle’s cache to see what they got. Jack looked in the back of the Jeep.

  “Interesting decor selections,” he said as he saw the wood veneered table top scrawled with colorful things like: Brent sucks dick, Heather P. puts out, and copious penis drawings.

  “Whatcha got there, man?” Joe asked as he nudged Liam in the shoulder, and pointed to the dark red and leather trimmed backpack.

  “Umm,” he said, trying to gather his thoughts. He placed the base of the bag on the ground and grabbed one of each of the two zippers between his fingers, tugging each to the side to open it up. “A backpack… from the basement.”

  Joe looked down at him as he kneeled and slowly slid the contents out onto the pavement of the cul de sac. At the top of the small pile slid a purple, ringed notebook with the words English Lit written across it in black, bubbly writing. The name Lucy Gerald in the bottom right corner. Joe kicked it aside with the toe of his boot to see the rest. Two small bottles of orange juice and a cheap handle of vodka began to roll a bit away from the now limp bag.

  “Alright!” Joe cheered, reaching down and snatching it up. “Brand new! The seal’s not even broken.” He reached for the juice and saw one was half empty and filled with mostly mold. What was left of the orange juice now a sickening green-black sludge. He threw it into the grass. “This one’s still good! Looks like we’re gonna have a good night!”

  Liams vision started to gray, and he stumbled back a bit when Joe reached down for the last thing dumped out of the bag: a small sized purple sweatshirt. He held it up and looked at it.

  “What’d you raid a teenage girl’s locker?” he chuckled to himself.

  Right then Liam stumbled back and tripped over the curb, falling onto the dirt and grass. He rolled over, got to his knees and started to throwup. He heaved violently a few times, the contents of his stomach splashing to the ground.

  “What the fuck?” Joe yelled with his face scrunched up in disgust.

  Laila ran over to him and put her hand on his back. “Are you all right?” she asked, softly into his ear.

  Everyone started to look over to Mac for some answers. She closed the back of the Jeep up and walked over with the backpack, holding it open for Joe to put its contents back in it. She looked him in the eye, but spoke loudly enough for them all to hear if they wanted to listen.

  “They’d go down there to party.” She zipped it back up once it was full again after giving Joe the eye to put the vodka back in too. He reluctantly did. “They never left.”

  Realization struck each of their faces and Mac tossed the pack onto the floor of the backseat. Charlie sighed and rolled his eyes slightly, and swore under his breath. Jack gave Mac a look as she squeezed in past the knob-less door and jammed herself into the little open spot in the trunk that was still open, leaving the backseat for Liam.

  “Alright, then. Got your first one! Congrats!” Joe walked over to Liam as Laila was helping him back up, and clapped him on the shoulder. “That booze is yours to celebrate. I’ll see you tonight.” He jogged back over to the shuttle and got in.

  For the short ride home, everyone was silent. Laila kept looking back at Liam in the rearview mirror, but he only looked down at the backpack at his feet. His head swayed back and forth with the lulling of the car. Jack looked ahead at the load they took from the house in the back of the shuttle. Mac faced out the back and watched as the development disappeared into the woods again, and out of sight.

  CHAPTER 20

  Cheers

  The rest of the classrooms were at the far side of the building. Mac had checked everything out her first week there, wandering all the halls, but she never really went in. No need until now, but the room held more necessities than she thought. Before she turned the knob and opened the door, she noticed a light on in the back corner and saw someone sitting at a drawing desk. When the door knob clicked closed behind her, the girl turned and stared.

  “Hi. Anna, right?”

  The young girl swallowed hard and looked around the room a bit before answering, “Yeah.”

  “Oh, good. Mrs. Tate said you’d be in here and I need your help to find a few things. She said you’d probably know better than her. Do y
ou have a second?”

  “Ok,” she said meekly as she closed her sketch book and stood up.

  Mac took a few steps towards her. “We were talking about how we needed mortar to fix that part of the wall where the tree fell.” She stopped in the middle of the room and sat on top of one of the desks, looking around at all the cabinets and packed shelves. “Mrs. Tate said that the art room had a few bags of plaster and even some sand. Mix them together and I think we could have a pretty good substitute to keep those bricks up.”

  The girl was still staring at her with nervous eyes, but nodded her agreement, or at least understanding. She turned around and walked towards a little alcove created from a large, open bookcase that stretched away from the wall. A black painted metal closet stood perpendicular to it.

  “They’re both in here.” She pulled at the handle and the metal gave a faint sound of thunder as it quivered a bit from being dislodged.

  Mac slid off the desk top and made her way over, still being sure to give the girl a few feet of space. She looked into the shelves and saw about five boxes lined up neatly next to the other. On the front were kids placing glass jewels and painting designs on round stepping stones they seemed to have created from the plaster of Paris inside.

  “This is all we have,” Anna said.

  Mac started to slide them off their shelves and stack them on the nearest desk.

  “The sand is up here.” She reached to the top shelf and brought down a plastic container with a twist top and handed it to her.

  Mac looked at it, and then up at the top shelf that was fully stocked with more of the same containers. She gave the girl a raise of her eyebrows. “Well, it’ll still do the trick I guess.” Anna started to giggle a bit. “Can you hand me down the rest?”

  She shook her head yes and reached up taking one down at a time, passing them to Mac. The first was neon green colored sand, the second white, the third bright orange, the next light purple. Each one was a different pigment and when they had taken every last container down and lined them up, they saw they had every color of the rainbow and plenty of ones in between.