Blood and Rain (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Melanie Murdock awoke in darkness. She could hear the storm outside, the wind howling as the rain whipped against the windows. She remembered that she was at Joe's.

I must have fallen asleep watching TV.

She searched the blackness around her. She scanned the dark room for the red LED lights of a digital clock, something to give her an idea of how long she'd been asleep. She found nothing.

She remembered the cable box. It should be on the shelf underneath the TV, showing the time. She sat forward, trying in vain to find the red digital numerals.

Of course, the storm must have knocked out the power.

She stood up, placed her hands on the couch and used it to guide herself back toward the computer desk. She couldn't remember if she'd seen a candle there or not. She thought that she had.

She crept along, not knowing the layout of the room. She bumped her shin on the edge of the coffee table, and made her way around it. She reached out, her fingers connecting with the leather back of the chair that sat at the computer desk. She reached to where she remembered the monitor being, found its edge and wiggled her fingers behind it, to where she thought she may or may not have seen the candle.

Her mind told her something was going to grab on to her hand and bite it. It was a childish fear, but that didn't stop her from cringing as she fluttered her fingers behind the monitor.

Thunder rumbled.

She yanked her hand back, startled in the dark by the suddenness of the roar. She felt the house tremble. Her heart rate was sky-high. There was no candle on the desk. She decided to check the drawers.

After a few minutes of making contact with paper, pens, paper clips and what felt like a chessboard, she came up empty-handed.

Where the hell is everyone?

Shelly Glescoe crept down the street, crouched over, holding her pistol out before her with both hands. She was drenched from the rain that whipped across her face. The whole way down the street, she kept repeating to herself, “Please, please, please, please don't be the werewolf.”

She passed the sheriff's closest neighbor's mailbox, bent down on one knee and tried her best to scan the perimeter for signs of any movement. The lights in the sheriff's house were no longer on. The porch light was dark, as well.

“Where to next?” Heath said.

“Can we go to Sonya's? I know you want to drink, but I feel like we should be there with her and Alex.”

“You're just gonna be pissed at me all night if I say no, right?”

“Something like that.”

“You're the boss.” Heath put the car in Drive and hit the road.

Kim dialed Sonya's house.

“Hello. Fischer residence.”

“Ah, hi, is Sonya there?”

The line went dead.

“Hello? Hello?” Kim tried the number again. Nothing.

“Weird.”

“What is it?” he said.

“Someone, not Sonya, but a woman, picked up, and then the line went dead.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Deputy Shelly Glescoe bit her bottom lip as she thought about Mel Murdock sitting alone in that blackened house. She was apprehensive about approaching the place sitting in total darkness. It was the only house on the block without power. She did not want to move. She was fine sitting here holding her gun, soaked from head to toe, scared to death. She knew something had knocked the power out in the sheriff's house, and it wasn't the storm.

Her mind told her to sit and wait, but her body betrayed her. She was back up on her feet and heading around toward the backside of the house before she could stop herself.

She crept to the corner of the home, leaning back against the white-vinyl siding. She gripped her pistol tightly with both hands, drew in a deep breath of the cool, moist air and steadied her nerves as she looked around the corner.

She smelled and felt the horrid breath of the monster; her mind barely had time to register the disgustingly warm aroma of death before she could react. The shock of its presence held her for the few seconds it took the beast to grab her by the back of the head, smash her face into the side of the house and hurl her backward through the air by her wet ponytail.

As she crashed to the ground, she registered the pain in her face. Her nose was definitely broken, and so was her left cheekbone. She had landed on something hard and couldn't catch her breath—she was guessing broken ribs. She was having trouble staying conscious, until she heard the growl.

Grrrrrrr

Her eyes fluttered open, fighting to remain that way, with the heavy raindrops landing on her face, making the simple task difficult. The beast rose up before her, and she screamed.

Mel heard something that sounded like a woman's squeal come from outside, though it was hard to differentiate with the howling wind and pounding rain whipping against the house. Still, the shriek sounded more human than she wanted it to. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and even though she couldn't see details of the objects around her, she could make out shapes to avoid as she headed toward the door in the back corner of the spacious kitchen.

She placed her nose to the glass, her hands wrapped around the sides of her eyes as she looked out. She didn't see anyone.

She could make out an old metal clothesline blowing in the wind. It was hitting up against a small wooden building that looked like a storage shed. She was surprised the old clothesline had lasted this long. It looked ready to bust apart and fly away. There was a knocking sound caused from one of its bending metal corners bouncing off the side of the shed, but nothing that looked like it would make a screech like the one she had heard.

Of course not. That's because it came from a person. It was a scream, not a screech. Somebody's hurt out there.

She cursed her mind for being overactive, and then cursed herself for spending too many Friday nights watching horror movies. She moved down the hall off the kitchen, trying the light switch at its entrance, knowing it wouldn't work. The dark hallway led to a bathroom. She saw a window on the far wall and slowly made her way over to it. She wasn't sure why, but she felt like there was something waiting for her.

Paranoia, Paranoia. Something's coming to get me.

Fitting lyrics from some stupid song she couldn't remember the name of scrolled across her mind. She placed her back against the wall and peered out, being more cautious than she had reason to be. She could see the neighbor's fence and a light coming from a second-floor window.

The house next door had power. She looked diagonally across the street. Lights were on there too. The fear and panic that had been threatening her paranoid mind for the last twenty minutes took hold of her. She felt a cold chill scrape its icy fingers of dread deep into her spine. Her hands began to tremble as she slid her rump down the bathroom wall to the floor.

Something banged against the wall behind her.

She jumped. She began to crawl on her forearms, her belly touching the cool floor, away from the wall, scurrying close to the ground like a private on a boot-camp obstacle course. Her mind raced with terror. She crawled up next to the toilet, wrapping her arms around it, and stared wide-eyed over her shoulder toward the window across the room. She saw a flash of lightning cut through the blackened sky and waited for the thunder.

The deep rumble that followed was much too loud and much too close to be from the storm. She let go of the body of the toilet and sunk down behind it as far as she could get. There was no place else to hide, and her fear wouldn't allow her to stand up, lest she be seen by whatever manner of death stalked the dreadful night outside.

Dwayne Clarke sped up Hilton Street, followed closely behind by the sheriff and his Range Rover. They had both shut their sirens off as they closed in on the sheriff's street. Dwayne started to slow to a stop three houses down from the Fischers' when he caught sight of the darkened cruiser at the other end of the street. It was Shelly's.

He pulled up to the curb, Joe following behind him. Dwayne grabbed his radio.

“Shelly? Shelly, do you copy?”

“Dwayne? Is that you? Where's my dad?”

“Sonya? Where's Shelly?”

“I don't know. Where am I? Where's my dad?”

“He's right behind me, sweetheart. We're down at the other end of the street. Can you see us?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can see your car. Why am I way over here? Where's Shelly?”

“Sonya. Stay right there. I think Shelly's at your house. She thought she saw…something.”

Joe came up to side of the car.

Dwayne rolled down the window. Rain whipped in with the wind. “Sonya's in Shelly's cruiser down at the end of the street. I told her to stay put. Shelly's not with her.”

Joe looked down toward the car containing his daughter. “Let me see the radio.”

“Dwayne? What's going—?”

“Hey, baby, it's Daddy.”

“Daddy? What's going on? Where's Shelly? What the hell did she see?”

Joe had held back long enough. Besides, she'd already seen one of the monsters. She deserved the truth. “We're not sure, but we think there's another werewolf.”

“What?”

“Shelly said she saw it go behind our house as she was pulling in, bringing you home. I want you to stay put, do you hear me?”

“Dad, what do you mean there's another one?”

“We don't have time, honey. We need to make sure Shelly's okay. I need you to wait right where you are. Shelly should have another gun in the glove box. Take it out and sit tight. Wait for us to come to you. Do you understand me? Wait for me or Dwayne.”

“I just want this to all be over. I just want this to be a bad dream…”

He could hear her crying. His heart lurched. “I know you do, baby. Just stay right there. This will all be over soon.” He gave the radio back to Deputy Clarke and disappeared back to his truck.

Dwayne placed the radio back on the receiver and stepped out into the wet and wild night.

“Dad? Daddy? Dwayne?”

Dwayne heard Sonya's sobbing as he closed the door. He felt bad for her, but there simply was no time to console the wounded girl. He needed to find Shelly.

Joe met him a few seconds later. He was carrying a large green military duffle bag. “What do you have in there?”

Joe moved past him. “Let's hope you don't have to find out.”

They made their way over to the freshly trimmed shrubs of Joe's neighbor Marv Thompson. Joe didn't despise many members of his community, but there were always the exceptional assholes. Marv Thompson was the biggest exception, and Joe had the great pleasure of living right next door to him. The man was an old army vet who thought his time served protecting his country entitled him to do whatever it was he wanted to do. Whether it was pruning his stupid shrubs at five fifteen in the morning with a gas-powered trimmer and waking up the whole neighborhood, or his penchant for throwing cans of Fresca at the misguided teens of Gilson Creek who often loaded his lawn with piles of dog shit. The man was the epitome of the term
asshole
.

Joe scanned Mr. Thompson's windows to make sure the crotchety old man wasn't peeking out at them. The only light in the house was coming from the kitchen. It was the light that he left on every night. He was most likely in bed for the evening. That was good.

Joe whispered to Dwayne, “Stay with me.”

He led them down the length of the shrubs, right to where they ended next to Thompson's house. They stayed ducked down, glancing just over the top of the shrubbery. From here, they had a clear view of both Joe's front and backyards.

The rain persisted. The neighborhood seemed to be waiting for something to happen. His house sat before them in complete darkness, in sharp contrast to the surrounding houses that had lights in various windows.

That's when they heard the loud smash come from the other side of the house, and the bloodcurdling scream of Melanie Murdock.

“What the fuck?” Heath brought the Jetta to a complete stop. There was a cop car in the road and a second vehicle on the shoulder.

“No…” Kim recognized Alex's Camaro, beat to hell and off the side of the road. “Sonya!” She burst out of the Jetta.

“Kim, Kim!” Heath tried to grab her. He followed her.

“Oh my God, Heath. That's Alex. That's Alex. He's, he's…”

There was a second body. Heath dropped down to his knees in front of Alex.

Kim had to find Sonya. She checked the second body. It wasn't her. It was Deputy Hines, and his arm was missing, among other things. She gave the cruiser a quick glance. There were no signs of the vehicle having been involved in any kind of collision.

She trotted to Alex's broken car. The Camaro was empty. The windshield was missing. There was blood inside on the front seat. The whole roof was caved in as if something huge had crashed down from out of the sky and landed upon it.

What the fuck is going on here? And where the hell is Sonya?

She made her way back over to Heath and placed her arms around him. “I'm sorry.”

Heath shook his head as he rose to his feet. “Is Sonya in the car?”

“No. We need to get into town and find out what the fuck is going on. The sheriff should be out here by now.”

She pulled her cell and tried the station. “I can't get a damn signal on this stupid road.”

“Come on,” Heath said. “We have to go find the sheriff.”

“Can we please try Sonya's first?”

Heath put the car in gear and eased the vehicle around the scattered debris of the Camaro.

Kim looked at his moist eyes. She hoped somehow that Sonya had made it out of this mess okay. Maybe her dad had already been here and picked her up. But, then, why wasn't there anybody on the scene now?

Melanie Murdock could do nothing but scream as the beast came smashing through the window. Shards of glass and wood rained down across the bathroom floor. The beast landed on all fours, locking eyes with her. Mel couldn't quite make out the face of the gigantic animal before her. She had never seen an animal of its size before, at least not outside of the York Zoo. It looked more like one of the monsters from her Friday-night movies.

It just sat there, facing her, staring at her. The soundtrack of the storm outside was the only audible noise registering outside of her head. Inside, her heartbeat was hammering within her chest like an incensed monkey in a cage.

The werewolf normally known as Stan Springs broke into another smile and let out a snort followed by a sound that resembled a laugh. It watched Mel Murdock's shocked reaction to its vocal giddiness. If it could talk in this form, it would. Instead, it derided her whining by making its own whiney, whimpering noises.

The large mass of fur and muscle crouched before her, and it had just laughed at her. It was mocking her. The beast began inching itself closer. Backed against the wall, she trembled from head to toe.

The cold nose at the end of its snout made contact with her forehead. She could smell its ghastly warm breath as the putrid scent buried itself in her nostrils. She fought the urge to throw up. The beast pulled back its dark lips, revealing an intimidating arsenal of teeth, opened its mouth, produced its pink, sandpaper tongue and lapped her face from chin to nose, leaving a trail of snot-textured saliva on her face. There was something strangely sexual in the way it performed the act, slow and drawn out, as though it was enjoying tasting her.

She couldn't hold back the vomit any longer—she spewed right into the mouth of the beast.

The werewolf grabbed her by the throat and flung her effortlessly across the open bathroom. The back of her head smashed into a mirror placed above the bathroom sink. She came down hard, her tailbone connecting with the cold, white porcelain sink. A hot flash of pain shot up her spine as she fell forward off the sink's edge and landed face-first on the hard blue tile below.

I'm going to die. Oh my God, I'm going to die. I don't want to die. God, please…

The beast grabbed her by the ankles, its sharp claws digging into her flesh through her cotton socks. It pulled her body beneath its mass. Its breathing quickened as its primal urges took full control of its actions.

Mel Murdock craned her head back. Her threshold for pain and horror, which she figured was about maxed out, intensified as she registered the creature's intent. She kicked her legs, she clawed at the tile and she caught bits of shattered glass from the broken window beneath her fingernails. She screamed.

The werewolf easily overpowered her. She felt its heavy hand rake down across her back, its sharp nails slashing her open. It did this repeatedly, all the while making its crude attempts at laughter.

She screamed out against the whole maddening scene and at the world for harboring such a vile creature in its realm. The sudden panic that struck her accompanied a surge of adrenaline. She had to fight.