Read Silas: A Supernatural Thriller Online
Authors: Robert J. Duperre
Without any further hesitation I sprinted to Joe’s front door, forgetting my mental promise to head back and alert the authorities if anything was amiss. The curtains were drawn on the picture window – unusual, especially considering how nice a day it was. I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen for any sign of struggle. My heavy breathing and pounding heart were all I could hear. I tried the knob but was locked, so I reared back and launched my shoulder into the door as hard as I could. The lock must have been old, because the door flew open on impact. Liquid needles of pain surged across my chest as I tumbled to the floor. In a haze I heard the first cries of panic. Silas then jumped over me, using my stomach as a springboard. He landed a few feet away from my head, stopped, hunkered down, and started barking again.
Despite the throbbing in my head and shoulder I propped myself up and faced the direction of those pleas for help. All eyes were on me. Jacqueline, balled up in the corner of the family room, knees held tight to her chest, stared at me and quivered. Joe sat atop the remains of what had once been his coffee table, ten or so feet away from his daughter, his desperate hands clutching at something wrapped around his throat. He seemed frozen, his face locked in an expression both terrified and relieved. And then there was Nick Goodman the Electrician, puffy cheeks, mutton chops, and all. He stood above Joe with piano wire wrapped around his fists.
I struggled to my knees as my feet slipped on the welcome mat. Silas inched forward, still growling, his fur standing on end. I watched Nick tilt his head in a quizzical manner and squint. His pasty white cheeks lifted while his mouth curled into a grin. He didn’t seem harmless any longer.
“Oh, hey there old friend,” he said, gnawing on a wad of gum. “Good to see ya.”
His grip on the piano wire loosened, causing Joe’s head to tilt forward. “Please…help us…” my neighbor began.
Nick brought his fist down on Joe’s ear. His body crumpled from the force of it, and Nick let go of the piano wire. It slipped from its place around Joe’s neck, exposing a deep red line that appeared dangerously close to breaking the skin – as it had with poor Bridget.
Jacqueline screamed when her father hit the ground with a thud. I couldn’t take it any more. I let loose a primal roar and charge the fat, murderous pedophile.
Nick’s patronizing smirk disappeared. A moment later I soared over Joe’s unconscious body and buried my shoulder – the one still aching from the run-in with the door – squarely into the large man’s chest. I forced him back and he fell, pulling me along with him. We landed with a thud. I bounced on his bloated midsection and rolled off to the side. With the storm of anger in my head, I didn’t realize I was howling the whole time. My lungs burned and I grew faint from lack of oxygen. A phlegm-filled cough exploded from my lungs.
I shuffled away and got up on my knees. I felt dryness in my mouth and a sticky film over my teeth, which I bared like a rabid dog. I’d never felt so animalistic, so at one with primordial violence. It felt good, it felt
real.
I went with it.
Nick struggled to his feet. The uncertainty in his expression disappeared, replaced by a look of rage that mirrored my own. He grabbed Joe by the back of his shirt, lifted him, and tossed him aside. My neighbor toppled over, smacked his head against the arm of the couch, and fell still.
Again I leapt at Nick, only this time I guess he was expecting it. He caught me in midair, whirled me around, and dropped me to the floor. I scurried away on my back, shocked at how strong he was, and glanced at Silas. My protector stayed in the same place he’d been when we entered, up on his haunches and barking but not coming any closer.
“That’s right!” said Nick, his words aimed at Silas. His grin, tinged with venom, widened. “Don’t come no closer, you stupid bastard.” He stomped the floor hard enough to knock a mirror off the wall. Jacqueline, still hidden away in her corner, screamed. Nick turned in her direction.
“Get away from her,” I snarled, grabbing the lamp off the table beside me as I rose to my feet. Even with my fear, my anger grew.
Nick shook his head and spread out his arms. “My God, why you gotta mess with shit you don’t understand? Don’t you see what I’m trying to do here? I’m doing it for
you!
”
I stepped back, baffled, but I didn’t give myself time to think about the meaning behind his nonsensical words. Instead I gathered as much force as I could and launched the lamp at him. It struck him in the face and exploded, raining fragments of frosted blue glass. He staggered backward and raked at his cheek. Blood oozed between his fingers, ran down his neck, and soaked the collar of his button-down shirt. Seeing an opening, I swung my fist at his jaw as hard as I could.
It never connected.
Nick caught my fist, his fingers enveloping mine. My knuckles cracked as he bent my wrist back. He was too strong –
much
too strong – and I collapsed onto my knees.
Before long he had me flat on my back. He sat his huge ass on my chest, pinning me down, and released my hand. Jacqueline, now back in my line of view, tried to scurry away. One quick glance and a clap from our attacker froze her in her tracks. In a panic I turned to Silas. He was still to the side of the front door, growling.
Why won’t you help?
my mind pleaded.
Why’re
you letting this happen?
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” said Nick, grabbing my jaw and turning my head. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He can’t do nothing, and he knows it.”
The large man’s weight bore down on my sternum, making me struggle for breath. “Why?” I gasped.
His lips puckered and he shrugged. “’Cause I can, I guess. That’s all you need to know. You’re just a common, anyway. You wouldn’t get it.”
At that moment a soft beep, like the world’s smallest alarm clock, sounded. Nick sighed, pulled a small watch from his pocket, and looked at it. “Well, I’ll be a shit farmer,” he said. “That time already.”
He got off me and gave me a swift kick to the ribs. I doubled over. “See ya later,” he said. I watched in pain as he winked at Jacqueline. “We’ll pick this up later, ‘
kay
? And don’t try to run. I’ll always find you.”
I wanted to do something, to get up and tackle him, but the pain in my ribs was too great. Instead I let him storm out the front door, flipping off a retreating Silas in the process. The van roared to life a few seconds later. I heard it back out of the driveway and take off with a screech.
With Nick gone, Silas finally ventured into the family room. His tail wagged and he licked my face. His breath smelled like fish. “Ugh, no,” I moaned, rolling over and shooing him away. Silas then went over to Joe, sniffed him, and eventually made his way toward Jacqueline. The little girl still held her knees to her chest. Her eyes were bugging out. Silas sat down in front of her and panted. Gradually, her tension seemed to ease and the hint of a smile crossed her lips.
“Hi, puppy,” she said in a soft, far-away voice.
I sat up, my hand and chest aching. My mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened. My thoughts were peppered with questions.
Who
is
that guy? Why did he talk like he knows me? Why is he killing young girls and their families?
I shook my head and my heart started racing again. I couldn’t let the bastard get away. He’d surely ditch the van and hide away somewhere, and quick, which meant going to the police station and explaining the situation was out of the question. That left only one option.
“You okay?” I asked Jacqueline as I struggled to my feet. She didn’t reply, only kept staring at Silas. I checked Joe’s pulse, much like I had with poor Bridget, only this time I found one. Then I ran over to Jacqueline and picked her up. “You’re gonna have to stay with Mrs. Lowery for a bit, okay Jackie?”
Her eyes closed and she said not a word.
Silas hopped out of my way and allowed me a clear path out the door. I carried the petrified young girl across the lawn and flew into my house. Silas was at my heels the whole time, moving happily, as if the whole scary scene never happened.
I found Wendy in the dining room, a vague look of dismay on her face. “What’s going on?” she asked, appearing startled.
“Call the police,” I said. I placed Jacqueline down on a chair, and she again folded up her knees. “And watch after her until they get here. Tell them her dad’s unconscious next door. I gotta go.”
I ran back out of the house before she could ask any more questions. I wouldn’t have been able to answer them, anyway. Everywhere I looked I saw Nick’s chubby mug and that shit-eating grin. Silas jumped into the Subaru as soon as I opened the door and I slid in beside him. I turned the key and revved the engine. A longing for revenge, disguised as a quest for justice, seeped from my pores.
I had to do this. I had to find him.
I just hoped I hadn’t wasted too much time.
20
It didn’t take long to find Nick Goodman’s van, which was stopped at a traffic light on Mercy Hill’s main drag, its left blinker flashing. When I pulled up behind it there were only six cars separating us.
“Now I got you, asshole,” I whispered.
I reached into the center console and searched of my cell phone, but it wasn’t there. I bent down, careful to check the traffic light every few seconds, and rifled through the cluttered area in front and to the side of the passenger seat. Still nothing. Then I remembered – I’d left the phone on the nightstand in the spare bedroom. I slapped the steering wheel in frustration.
I sat up to see Silas’s doggy grin in the rearview mirror. It seemed to ease my tension a bit, and I forgave him for his inaction only a few minutes before. How could I ever stay mad at a face like that?
“Looks like we’re gonna have to follow him, boy,” I said. I reached behind me and tugged on the loose skin around his neck. “You with me?”
He barked and obsessively licked my hand. I was able to smile, and it wasn’t forced.
The light turned green and the van rounded the corner. I trailed behind, glad to have a little distance between us. I didn’t want him getting suspicious.
We left Mercy Hills behind and entered
Stafford
. Nick weaved around a rotary and proceeded to head west. I kept my distance, even as the cars between us turned off the road. The
Stafford
line came and went and we crossed into the next town where, thankfully, the traffic was much tighter. I wondered where the hell the guy was going. The nonchalant way he drove didn’t exactly make him look like someone fleeing the scene of an attempted murder. Whatever his motives, though, I was thankful he took it so easily. At least this way I could flag down a cop if I saw one parked on the side of the road.
But I never did. Per usual, when you need them most, they’re nowhere around. Murphy’s law, I guess.
We slipped through the shopping district. Impatience made me brazen, and I passed a slow-moving pickup truck to get a little closer. Out of instinct, with the van in clear view, I jotted down the license plate. ARL-Q09. A lot of good it would do me. Unless my quarry decided to stop and take a piss or something, I was helpless.
But he didn’t stop. The van cruised by the procession of strip malls at a steady, indifferent pace. At the next set of lights the right blinker flashed. I glanced at the sign. I-91 North. The bastard was getting on the highway.
Damn.
By that time it was closing in on
. I kept on him through the frenetic rush-hour traffic, my speedometer stuck at a pretty consistent sixty-seven miles per hour. Signs marking the end of the
Connecticut
border were replaced by ones welcoming us to
Massachusetts
.
Chicopee
,
Holyoke
,
Northampton
,
South Deerfield
, and
Bernardston
flew past my window. All the while, Nick the Homicidal Electrician kept his even pace in the middle of the three-lane freeway. I looked in the rearview mirror and noticed that Silas had taken his usual position during long trips – sitting behind me and calmly staring out the window. I envied how relaxed he seemed.