Husk (3 page)

Frank sagged, catching his breath.

Across the room wood shrieked against a strike plate. When Frank looked, he saw one of the tactical officers trying to yank open a chipped and faded green door on the far wall, the same door that had contained the unexplainable lightshow moments earlier.

“
Wait!” Frank shouted.

The door pulled free even as the words left Frank’s mouth, and the officers that closed in to clear the room beyond immediately choked and recoiled. The stench of rot that had enveloped them since first setting foot in the stairwell magnified to a near-suffocating degree.

“
Holy shit,” one of them cried.

Another doubled over and puked.

Despite the overpowering odor, Frank hurried forward. He pushed through the crowd, wincing in pain, but came to a halt when he beheld the unimaginable sight that waited in the dirt-walled room ahead. He stared in dreamlike detachment, his mind straining to make sense of the madness displayed before him.

“
My God,” he whispered.

And just when he thought his overstressed nerves had been pushed to their limit, one of the medics who’d bent over Kane’s body ended the shock-induced stillness with a scream.

“
He’s still alive!”

CHAPTER 1

Five Years Later …

Jerry Anderson’s eyes snapped opened to see the last flicker of pale blue lightning depart from his bedroom walls, pursued into the night by darkness.

He bolted upright and surveyed the shadowy bedroom with widened eyes, searching his surroundings for the source of what had roused him. By the weakness of the lightning’s pursuing thunderclap, he knew it hadn’t been the storm.

Something moved in the darkness, and Jerry wheeled around to face it.

Outside, the wind gusted against the house and through the nearby treetops, its morose tone overlaid by the sound of rainwater dripping from the gutter. Inside, black shadows swayed on the walls and floor, but he saw nothing to justify his fear.

Nothing yet.

“
Get up,” he hissed, shaking his wife.

Margaret Anderson jerked from sleep. “What—” she gasped, but Jerry clapped a hand over her mouth before she could finish.

“
I heard something,” he whispered. “In the house.”

Her startled expression cleared, replaced by a look of stark terror. Even in the wan light of the bedside clock the color drained from her face. “No,” she groaned. “It’s been three days. Kern said three days and we’d be safe.”

“
Kern’s a fool,” Jerry said. “We were idiots for listening to him.”

Her eyes flicked from his to the door, then back. Lightning flashed outside, and a peal of thunder trembled through the air. They listened to the silence that followed, straining to hear into the deeper reaches of the house.

“
You’re certain it wasn’t just another nightmare?” she asked. “We’ve been through this before. You know how real they can be.”

Jerry shook his head. “We should’ve left when we had the chance.”

Turning away, he extracted a .44 revolver from the nightstand, keeping his gaze trained on the bedroom door. When he looked back to his wife, she’d already retrieved the Remington pump-action shotgun from under her side of the bed, just like they’d practiced.

“
Stay here,” he said.

He eased out of bed and walked toward the hallway, holding the gun ready. He forced himself to keep his finger on the trigger guard rather than the trigger itself, afraid his shaking hands might fire the gun prematurely.

Clearing the doorway, he crept down the hall to where the stairs overlooked the foyer. Below, the reassuring red light of the front door’s new security panel glowed in the darkness:
Property Secured.

He exhaled his fear in one great breath. If anyone lurked down there, the motion sensors would’ve detected them the moment they entered the room.

I’m a prisoner inside my home
.
And now even home no longer feels safe.

But maybe it was over; maybe Kern was right?

Lightning flashed outside. It lit the huge window in the adjoining living room and displaced the darkness, illuminating a collage of muddy footprints splattered across the carpet.

Jerry’s heart convulsed.

His jaw trembled; his legs weakened.

“
No,” he whispered, clutching the railing for balance.

Darkness devoured the sight, but not before he saw the tracks proceeded up the stairs.

Then it came again, the noise he’d heard earlier.

Not wind. Not rain.

Someone moving through the darkness.

His skin went cold, and he whirled around, tracing the footprints back to the bedroom door, where they faded to nothing more than outlines on the carpet.

Margaret screamed.

“
Not her,” Jerry cried.

Bounding faster, he came through the door to find the source of his dread looming at the bedside, silhouetted against the far window. Margaret thrashed on the mattress, battling to free herself from a cocoon of bed sheets wrapped tight around her head and held fast by the attacker’s hand behind her back. Her muffled cries came to him like the screams of a drowning swimmer.

The intruder stood silent, unmoving. Resisting Margaret’s violent struggle elicited no signs of strain whatsoever.

“
Get away from her,” Jerry yelled. He thrust the gun forward. “You’re not welcome here.
Leave us alone!
Go the hell away and don’t ever come back.”

Despite the strength of his words, a cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

“
Need you,” the trespasser replied.

“
No,” Jerry cried. “Find someone else to torment. I’m not going to help you. I
can’t
do what you want.”

Another flash of light played across the sky, and Jerry gasped at what it revealed: his old flannel shirt; Margaret’s faded blue jeans with the patches on the knees. The intruder had taken the clothes off the scarecrow from their garden and now filled the mud-covered garments to the point of nearly bursting the seams. Jerry trembled at the nightmarish sight, mumbling “please” over and over again in a child-like whimper. His eyes searched the dirty burlap sack that made up the thing’s head for the slightest sign of mercy, but no details had ever been added to the simulated head to create a face. The only response to his pleas came in the form of a blank, expressionless stare.

Thunder boomed, shaking the house around them.

The scarecrow extended its free hand, holding forward an old, wooden-handled shovel.

“
No,” Jerry mewed. “I won’t.”

The scarecrow’s face wrinkled, creasing into a look of rage. “You have no choice!”

On the bed, Margaret’s wild movements had dwindled to weak clawing actions.

“
You’re not supposed to be able to come here anymore,
” Jerry shrieked.

With tears slipping from his eyes, he sighted the weapon on the center of the wadded bed sheets and blew two bloody holes through his wife’s shrouded head.

Then, acting before the maniac scarecrow could stop him, he rammed the hot barrel under his chin and fired again.

CHAPTER 2

Mallory’s eyes widened as her father turned the corner and guided his Ford Expedition into the driveway of her new home.

“
Holy shit, Dad, this is yours?”

“
Hey,” Paul Wiess laughed. “Easy on the four letter words around your brother.”

“
You’re in trouble!” BJ sang from his booster seat in the back.

“
Shut up,” she replied. “Sorry, Dad. Won’t happen again.”

“
I hope not.”

“
My friends are going to be so jealous, though. Becky’s going to flip when she sees this place.”

“
I guess I never really considered that during the selection process.”

The house looked like a castle compared to their old home in the city, and she stared in wonder at the wide front porch, three-car garage, brick outer walls, and multi-gabled rooftop.

“
I want to be the first in the pool,” BJ, declared, slurping from a juice box.

Mallory rolled her eyes. “Will you stop saying that already? You’re six; you can’t even swim yet.”

“
So?”

“
So, I’m sick of hearing about all the things you want to do first in the new house. It’s not like you have to wait in line to get in.”

BJ leaned forward and burped at her.

“
Freak,” Mallory snapped.

“
Okay, you two,” her dad said, “let’s get your stuff out of the back. We can have lunch before setting up your rooms.”

Mallory exited the vehicle and went to unlatch the cargo door of the U-Haul trailer hitched to the rear of the Ford. “How many bedrooms are there?”

“
Four on the second floor, one on the main level, and room for another in the basement if you like. You can take your pick.”

Mallory whistled. “Are you running a hotel here or what?”

Her dad gazed at the building. “I know it’s a bit much for a bachelor. It’s just that, since your mom and I split up, I guess it makes me feel more like … Well, like I’m still part of a family.”

A hint of sadness entered her father’s expression at the mention of her parents’ recent separation, and Mallory realized she’d been skirting the issue during the last three months since the divorce. She knew they should talk about it, that she should tell him she didn’t hold any resentment toward either of them, but on the few occasions when the subject had come up the words knotted in her throat, making it difficult to speak. Switching the subject was so much easier.

Unable to meet the hurt look in her dad’s eyes, she redirected her gaze to where they’d come from. At the crest of the hill, the front yard overlooked the tops of all the other houses, allowing a broad view of the lush country landscape beyond.

Her gaze traveled from the scenery to the house opposite her father’s, where a dark figure stood behind a large window, looking back.

Staring at her.

Mallory turned away. “Take a picture while you’re at it,” she mumbled to herself, wondering if the dude had been eyeballing her butt when she opened the trailer door.

She unloaded several boxes while her dad went to get BJ out of his booster seat, rolling her eyes when she heard the twerp say, “Look, dad, I tied my shoelaces to the door handle.”

Mallory shook her head and made another casual glance toward the house across the street.

The figure hadn’t moved.

She couldn’t make out any details other than a jet-black silhouette, but the size told her the watcher had to be an adult and not some boy checking her out. She knew the person was probably a nosy neighbor simply wanting to get a glimpse of the newcomers, but the idea of being spied on by some guy hiding in the shadows made her shiver. She rejoined her father alongside the car, putting the trailer between her and the stranger.

“
Greetings,” a voice called. “This must be the family?”

Mallory turned to see an elderly, white-haired man come out of the garage next door, waving as he approached.

“
Morning, Harry,” her dad replied. “Kids, this is Harold Fish, the best neighbor anyone could hope for.”

“
I pay him to say that,” the man said with a wink.

Her dad made a round of introductions, mentioning Harry owned the company he worked for, and that’s how he’d found the house.

“
You see,” Harry said, “I really do pay him to say that.”

Mallory smiled and shook the man’s eager hand. She listened with interest while he pitched the high-points of the area—the bike trails, the lakes, the surrounding woodland—but chanced glancing over her shoulder once the focus shifted to her brother.

The silhouette remained in the window.

“
I won’t be keeping you,” Harry said to her father. “I just wanted to see if you and the kids would join me at church tomorrow? You were busy moving in all your furniture last weekend, so I didn’t ask, but I think you’d enjoy it. I could introduce you to some of the locals. Interested?”

Her dad nodded. “That sounds great.”

“
Terrific!”

“
Holy shit,” BJ cheered.

Mallory and Harry both broke out in chuckles, while her dad tried to explain the concept of first impressions to her brother.

“
Excuse me, Mr. Fish?” Mallory asked, still grinning. “Whose house is that over there?” She gestured across the road, where the sentinel figure remained statuesque behind the glass. “That guy in the window has been watching us ever since we showed up.”

Harry craned his head to look over the Ford, and his face became sober. “That’s Judge Anderson’s place,” he replied. “I don’t believe you’ve met Jerry or his wife yet,” he added, once again speaking to her father. “Nice people, believe me, but they’ve both been acting a little odd lately.”

“
How so?” Paul asked.

Harry shrugged. “They just haven’t been very sociable these last few days, that kind of thing. They’re usually pretty outgoing people. I spotted Jerry getting the paper last Wednesday while I was out for my morning walk, and the man looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. We said our hellos and what have you, but it was like I was talking to a stranger.” Harry sighed and shook his head. “I suppose I should’ve pressed him for details right then, but it’s hard to know when to prod into another man’s life. Beatrice, God rest her soul, was always better at that sort of thing than I am. She knew how to talk to people when they needed help working things out. I thought about going over there last night to see how they were, but that thunderstorm rolled in so fast I didn’t have the chance. Tried calling instead, but they wouldn’t pick up.”