Author: S. A. Check
Date: 2019-07-10 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Horror; Thrillers; General
Description: SEE NO CRIME. HEAR NO CRIME. SPEAK NO CRIME. How do you convince your best friend you’re responsible for their murder when they won’t even admit they’re dead? Ask any kid in Rumors Mill and they’ll tell you the same thing, playing anywhere around the old Monkey Farm was completely off limits. The dark branches of the woods surrounding the abandoned lab held whispers of secret government experiments and creatures that lurked the property at night on both two legs and four. So, it was no real surprise when Effin and his friends decided to spend one fateful summer day in those same woods, one of
Publisher: Necro Publications

MONKEY FARM

©2022 by S.A. Check

(Necro Publications, 2019)

All rights reserved.

Second Edition

Cover, Layout, Interior

K. Trap Jones

All persons in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance that may seem to exist to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

www.theevilcookie.com

Acknowledgements

A special acknowledgement to David Barnett and Necro Publications. Dave gave me my first book publishing deal and was always a great proponent for my work. He was a force of nature in the horror publishing world and is sorely missed!

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the wonderful people around me who give weight and meaning to the words I write. To my wife, Rhonda, and my daughter, Nadia–who inspire me daily to be better than the day before. To my mother–who bought me my first comic book, and has always supported my writing. To my grandmother–who inspires me to this day. To all my family and friends who encourage what I do. To the fans of my work–thank you for taking the journey with me and letting me entertain you. I hope you enjoy the book.

—1—

The Deep, Deep, Dark

Shadows. They lose their power in the day. At least the ones that sneak into your room after the sun fades, watching you from the corners and spaces in between. The creepers, that’s what Libby calls them, only go home, to the dark place, when the sun returns, taking the place of the moon.

She could feel the creepers, watching from the dark branches above them. It felt wrong, like staying up after bedtime, or hiding your green beans in your napkin, but they walked even deeper into the woods. She held her mother’s hand, gripping it tightly until they made it to a clearing. Libby let out a sigh as the sun found her cheek. She knew the warmth was only temporary.

“Isn’t this the bad place, Mommy?” Libby asked. “The one you told me never to come to?”

The high grass tickled her legs as they pushed farther into the open field. She wasn’t expecting an adventure that morning, but the promise of frosted cupcakes was all it took get her to come along. Grabbing Miss Sally, her favorite doll, she and her mom left the house early, and they headed across town.

“We’re fine, Libby. We won’t be long,” her mother said, giving a small smile as she glanced around the woods.

They found a nice flat spot in the field. The grass had been pushed down, probably by a deer making a bed for the night, Libby thought. Her Dad taught her that, back when he was still with them. They’d take walks in the woods, and he’d point out all kinds of neat things. Her mom never said much when they went walking, which wasn’t often. She missed her dad. It was getting harder and harder to remember his face.

Her mom handed her a wicker basket they brought from home, while she spread a blanket across the ground. It was warm out, warmer than usual for being so close to Halloween. Her mom called it an Indiana summer, or something like that.

Libby lifted the lid, sneaking a peek to make sure the promised goodies were inside. The smell of vanilla frosting went the whole way to her brain. She smiled, remembering when her mom would make the treats before Daddy came home from work. She plopped down on a corner of the blanket with a cupcake already in hand.

“Not yet,” her mother said, shaking a finger her way. “Give it here.”

Her mom took the frosted treat, placing it on the stack with the others on the blanket. She added a couple juice boxes from the basket.

Libby knew they weren’t far from home, but it seemed like they’d been traveling for days. Her belly rumbled, and she could already taste the blueberry fruit drink waiting for her on the end of the blanket.

“Something smells funny,” Libby said. “Smells rotten.”

Her mom tore the wrapper from one of the straws, piercing it through the top of the drink box.

“We’re in the woods, Libby. There are a lot of funny smells out here.”

Libby took a long sip. The cool liquid ran all the way down her throat and into her belly. It felt good. She reached for one of the cupcakes, but paused. Something cracked in the woods at the edge of the clearing. Libby jumped to her knees.

“What was that?” she asked.

“It’s just an animal, probably a squirrel,” her mom said, but she was up on her knees too, looking around.

“What if it’s a bear?” Libby asked. She heard stories of bears coming to town, eating people’s trash. They even found one sleeping in the park.

Her mom stood up, staring at a spot in the distance. Libby tried to follow with her eyes. Something flashed between the trees, like glass reflecting in the sun.

“What was that?” Libby stood up, grabbing a handful of her mother’s dress.

Her mom patted the top of her head. “It’s… a friend of Mommy’s. I need to go and talk to them for a minute.”

“Ok. I’m coming.” Libby reached down for her drink and to grab a cupcake for the trip.

Her mom smiled and knelt down next to her.

“You can’t come, Libby. Mommy needs to see her friend by herself.”

“Why not? I’ll be quiet. Promise.”

Her mom dipped her finger into the icing of the cake in Libby’s hand. “It’s a secret meeting.”

“Is it Santa?” Libby asked.

Smudging the icing on the end of Libby’s nose, she laughed, “It’s not Santa… but I’m sure he’s watching, so I need you to be a good girl and stay right here until Mommy gets back.”

“But—”

“No buts.” The smile disappeared from her face. “You do not leave this blanket until I get back. Understood?”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Good. I’ll be right back. Eat your cupcakes, but save a couple for me, okay?”

Libby could smell the frosting smeared on the tip of her nose. “Okay.”

She watched her mother cross the field, heading for the trees. She pulled a white envelope from her pocket and carried it in her hands. So, it was Santa she was meeting after all. She should have just told Libby. There were a couple presents she could have added to the list. At the edge of the woods, her Mom turned and waved. Libby waved back and watched her disappear into the dark lands of the creepers.

Libby found a soft spot in the middle of the blanket and bit into her cupcake, crumbs carelessly dropping into her lap. It was every bit as delicious as she imagined it.

She felt the same cold chill she felt before in the woods. It crept up her neck, and she shivered. The sun was shining, high over the trees where her mother had just vanished. A breeze blew across the field. She felt the goosebumps on her arms.

The rotten smell returned, mixing with the frosting still on the end of her nose. She winced. It smelled stronger, closer. She stared at the grass around her. She saw something on the ground, something a few feet away from her, something red. It painted the ground and the leaves around it.

She crawled across the blanket, inching closer to mysterious red splotch. It was thick, and sticky, and formed a puddle on the ground. She knew better than to reach out and touch it, something told her not to. She found a stick and used it to move some of the grass away. That’s when the buzzing started.

Libby never saw so many flies before. They darted around in the grass, a tiny insect army that echoed in her ears. That little voice in the back of her head told her to stop, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear. She pushed the rest of the grass to the side.

At first, the tangle of blood and fur confused her. It was about the size of a rabbit, at least she thought it was. She couldn’t be sure. It looked like someone had turned it inside out.

“Mom?” Libby stood up and looked across the field. She was nowhere in sight.

“Mommy?” She called again, but instead of her mother’s voice, something growled at her from somewhere inside the field.

Libby dropped down to the blanket and held her breath, listening. Miss Sally pressed tight against her chest. The growling stopped. The field was quiet, except for the buzzing from her new friends nearby. She wasn’t looking over the grass again. She was too afraid. Her mom said she’d only be gone for a minute. She’d be back any second. They’d eat their cupcakes and leave, and she wouldn’t have to think about the woods or the creepers anymore.

Something pushed through the grass. She heard the snap of twigs, and the grass hissing as it moved closer. Tears welled in her eyes. Maybe it was her mom on her way back. It had to be.

The noise grew louder, coming from all around her, like it was circling her, inching closer.

“Mom!”

She didn’t care who heard. Not anymore. She just needed her mom back with her on the blanket.

A low guttural growl blew in from the field behind her.

“It’s okay, Miss Sally. Mom is coming back. She promised.”

A cloud drifted in front of the sun, bringing a new shadow across the field.

Dark. Alone. And terrified. Libby clung to her doll, moving in small circles on the blanket, trying to follow the horrible sound as it grew nearer.

And then it stopped.

The tall weeds shook, like the field was alive, as something crept toward her. The smell from the dead animal filled her nose. The flies stopped buzzing.

The sea of grass parted. The eyes, the blood red eyes of pure evil, stared back at her, and Libby knew the creepers had found her.

***

“Libby!”

Her mother sprinted from the woods and back into the field.

“Baby?” She spun in a circle in the grass, trying to remember where the blanket was. “Where are you? It’s momma.”

The tail of a giant cloud passed over the field, taking the shadows with it. She retraced her foot marks in the grass, but there were more than just her and Libby’s tracks pushing down the grass.

“This isn’t funny now, baby girl. Answer your mother.”

Full panic set in, the kind only the parent of a lost child can know. She sprinted aimlessly towards the middle of the field. When she saw the small clearing and the corner of their blanket, a rush of relief flooded over her.

“Momma’s here.”

Something wrapped around her ankle as she ran. She threw her hands in front of her, trying to catch herself as she fell, but it happened too fast. Her head thumped against a rock. Pain shot down her spine. She could feel the warm ooze of blood trickling across her forehead. Her vision blurred as she pulled herself up and saw the bloody carcass next to her.

Fear froze her in place. She wanted to look away, but her eyes wouldn’t let her. Her first breath didn’t come back to her until she realized the fur had been stripped away from the carcass. It had been dead for a while, maybe days. Maybe Libby found it too. That’s why she left.

Standing up, she tried to control the shaking in her voice.

“It’s okay, Libby. Momma’s here. Let’s finish our picnic.”

Looking down, she realized the blanket was still on the ground. Libby’s drink was spilled, staining the criss-crossed pattern of the fabric. The basket lid was open. Bending down, she noticed another stain, thick and red, trailing off into the grass.

At the edge of the blanket was Miss Sally, or more accurately, half of Miss Sally. The doll had been torn apart.

Falling to her knees, she cried out into the empty field and the deep dark woods around her.

“Libby!”

—2—

Welcome Home, Effin Jones

Effin read the headline, “Search for Missing Girl Continues”. He ran his fingers across the front of the newspaper, not really sure what he expected to happen. Answers through osmosis? Doubtful. Probably just more questions. He had his fill of those.

“You okay, pal?” The clerk glanced over while restocking the potato chip rack.

The guy’s stare was a mix of great another whacko and why’s it always got to be on my shift. It wasn’t the first time Effin was on the receiving end of that same look. He dropped the newspaper, casually moving over to the freezer inside the small convenience store. What was the chance they carried his favorite energy drink?

“You got any grape Brain Scrape?” Effin asked.

“What you see is what you got.” Potato chip guy never even looked up. “Truck comes on Tuesdays.”

Effin had no plans of being around that long. The store was the last stop before he hit Rumors Mill. He needed to fuel up, both mechanically and physically. The mini-mart wasn’t even on the map the last time he was around, of course that was over a decade ago. Still, he was glad to spot it on his way in. Sure, he was stalling, but who could blame him. His hands had been shaking for the last twenty miles.

Settling for his backup beverage, Master Blaster, he shifted over to the snack aisle. They better have some Zinkles. Spotting the pseudo-pastry on the top shelf, he made his way to the front counter. Of course, chip-guy was oblivious to it all, still focusing on his display. Who did he think he was, the Picasso of potato chips?

“I’m ready up here,” Effin said, trying not to sound like too much of an asshole, but with just the right amount of irritated.

The jerk stocked at least three more bags of chips before checking something on the frozen drink machine before meandering up to the front. Maybe he sprinkled in a little more asshole than he thought.

Moving fast didn’t seem a real high priority with small town living, something Effin seemed to forget after moving away to the city, after the, well… the event. His third therapist liked to call it that during their sessions. It sounded less ominous.

The future employee of the month grabbed the drink on the counter, scanning it with one of those hand-held things that reminded Effin of some cheesy sci-fi weapon. Life expectations set to low. The bell above the door chimed as a group of guys spilled into the store, all of them late teens, maybe early twenties. The first guy, his straight-billed ball cap strategically canted to the side, found the need to announce their arrival.

“Sigma Delta in the house.”

Lord help him. Effin just bought a front row seat for the next episode of Frats Gone Bad.

They all burst into deep, gut wrenching, back-slapping, laughter. Laughter that was way over the top for such a pathetic joke, the same line they probably used every single time they walked into some place. That meant either two things. They were stupid, or they were drunk. Knowing his luck, it was probably a combination of both.

High school proved enough of a struggle for Effin, and college never really seemed a fit for him. His aunt didn’t have that kind of money. Of course, she never figured on having to raise him from the time he was ten either. She was a good woman. She took him in when no one else would. Still, he sometimes wondered what he could have done with a college degree in his back pocket. Where would his life had taken him?

One of the frat brothers pointed to the stump of a cashier behind the counter. His face lit up like he just found one of the lost Beetles.

“Mort!” He pointed at chip guy, his grin widening. “It’s our main man Mort.”

The group chanted in semi-unison as they made their way back to the cooler.

“Mort! Mort! Mort!”

The clerk leaned over the counter, speaking just loud enough for Effin to hear.

“It’s Milt, you morons.”

Well, good for you Milt. A little sarcasm goes a long way. Maybe there’s still hope for this one, yet. Milt rang up the items as Effin handed him his bank card.

The party raged in the back of the store, eventually making its way back up front. The frat stooges banged two thirty packs on the counter.

“Maybe we should grab one more?” one of them asked.

“Nah, sixty beers, four of us, that’s like…” tilted hat dude took a long pause.

“Fifteen a piece.” It slipped out before Effin even realized he said it. He immediately regretted his decision. He could hear the walls of the trash compactor closing in around him, and someone whispering in his ear it’s a trap.

“Dude, do you go to school here?”

“I’m just passing through,” Effin answered, trying to figure out which response would result in the least amount of conversation.

“Yeah, I kind of figured. You look a little old,” silly hat guy quipped. “No offense, bro.”

Effin smiled back at him. “None taken… bro.”

Apparently, the Rumors Mill Community College had quite a growth spurt while Effin was away. He remembered a couple buildings outside of town when he was a kid, most of the classes were centered around agricultural engineering or something like that. Judging from the RMCC Lacrosse t-shirt the one guy sported, they’d definitely expanded. He had a hard time thinking of his old stomping grounds as a college town.

“I’m gonna need to see your ID,” Milt/Mort/ChipGuy waved Effin’s card at him.

Effin watched some late-night news special years ago that suggested writing Ask for Id on the back of your bank card to help you from getting defrauded. He thought it sounded like a good idea. That was until every other store clerk started asking him for identification.

He handed over his license.

“Oswald Effin Jones–can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” Milt handed it back.

Oh, no. He just had to read it aloud. Effin knew exactly where this was headed.

Straight-brimmed Asshat next to him didn’t miss a beat. “Your middle name is Effin? Dude, that’s effin’ awesome.”

“So, I’ve been told. Repeatedly.”

Effin’s grandfather on his mother’s side, Effin Fitzgerald Hughes, a man he never met, was the caretaker of the Rumors Mill’s cemetery back in the 50’s. A quiet man that apparently adored his job, probably because he was the only employee and really, who’d ever talk back to him. His mother wanted some piece of her family’s heritage to live on in her only child, so they lovingly blessed him with grand pappy’s name. Oswald came from his great-great-grandfather. Couldn’t he have like one ancestor that was a Frank, or Joe? Hell, he’s even take a Chad, well, maybe not Chad.

Effin tried pushing the less offensive “Ozzie” for a while back in grade school, but it never caught on. Eventually some teacher would call out his full name, and he finally conceded to the inevitable.

One of the frat guys pointed to the newspaper on the counter.

“Hey, that’s a shame about that little girl. Some pervert probably snatched her up.”

“I heard her mom had something to do with it,” Milt added.

“Wouldn’t doubt it,” supreme asshat said. “People are effin’ messed up.” He jabbed Effin in the side. “Get it.”

“Yeah. I saw how you slipped that in there.” He was right about one thing though, people were definitely messed up. Still, Effin’s curiosity was peeked. “People think the girl’s Mom did it?”

“Why else would she have that girl out in the middle of the woods?” Milt raised both hands to accentuate the point, like he was already making closing arguments at the pending trial.

Effin chalked it up to town gossip which must have floated across Milt’s counter over the last few days. The whole trip was probably just a big waste of time. Then he thought about his sketchbook out in the truck, and Lefty’s latest piece of art. He’s never been wrong yet. Still, he could always hope.

Grabbing the plastic bag off the counter, Effin headed for the exit.

“You guys be careful tonight.”

Asshat prime actually gave him a thumbs-up. “It’s a full moon tonight, bro. The Halloween party season is officially in effect. We’re going to party like our lives depend on it.”

Asshat of London howled straight into poor Milt’s face to accentuate the point.

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Effin nodded on his way out.

Hoping in his truck outside, he unscrewed the top off his drink. He was glad to be back in the sanctuary of his own space.

“Did you get me anything?”

Taking a long sip from the bottle, Effin glanced over at his passenger. He let out a casual burp.

“That’s real classy, Effin.”

Wiping some grape Master Blaster from his chin, Effin smiled. “If you wanted something, Wilson, you could have come in with me.”

“I’m in my pajamas.”

Effin chuckled. “Like that matters.” He handed the bottle across the truck’s console. “You want some of mine.”

“Ha. Ha. And Ha. Who’s the comedian now?” Wilson stared at the bottle dangling in front of him.

“Just trying to be polite.” Effin put the truck in reverse, making his way back onto the road. They hit a comfortable sixty before he broke the silence.

“The clerk back there said maybe the mom had something to do with the missing girl. Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Wilson stared out the passenger window.

“It’s at least possible,” Effin said. If he said it enough times, maybe he’d start to believe it too.

“And maybe I’ll get that whole standup comedian thing started.” Wilson looked at him with his hands in the air. “Wacka wacka wacka.”

“I don’t think the world’s ready for your…stage presence.”

“Touche, mon frere.”

“I didn’t know you spoke French?” Effin laughed.

“That was French?” Wilson folded his arms across his chest. “Sometimes I amaze myself.”

The road was pretty empty at that time of night. Definitely one thing Effin did enjoy was the absence of bumper to bumper traffic like he battled every day in Philly. The lone pair of headlights coming at them was easily a half-mile away.

Effin clicked on the radio, trying to tune in a clear station. Not an easy task so far from the city. The choices were limited, to say the least.

“No gangster rap,” Wilson chimed.

“Gotcha.”

“And no country. I don’t do bumpkin.”

Effin found a 70’s rock station and cranked up the volume.

“It’s either this or I sing,” he said.

“I’ll take what’s behind curtain number-Effin! Watch out!” Wilson pointed out the window, shielding his face with his arms.

A hundred feet away and straddling the yellow line, the oncoming headlights blinded Effin. He swerved to the right to miss colliding with the oncoming car. His tires bounced off the pavement. It felt like one the wheels blew as soon as it hit the berm. The truck bounced all over the road, and Effin had a hard time getting it back under control. He finally got all four wheels back on the ground and onto the pavement.

The mix of loud music and laughter echoed as the car barreled past. He slammed on his brakes, skidding to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Idiots!” Effin shouted out his window.

He sat behind the wheel, waiting for his heart to slow down. At least in the city, the worst you worried about was a fender bender. Maybe this was an omen. The town was sending him a message to turn around, forget the whole thing, and head home. He hadn’t even hit the city limits and was almost turned into road pizza. He rested his head against the top of the steering wheel.

“And you’re not even going to ask if I’m ok?” Wilson said, peeking out from between his arms.

“Probably more of those college kids,” Effin hissed.

“By the way, I’m fine,” Wilson said.

“I know you’re okay.”

“But…” Wilson protested.

“You’re dead, Wilson. You can’t get undead. Remember?”

“Ouch. And it always comes back to that.” Wilson still apparently felt the need to do a quick self-exam for possible external injuries.

“Hey, I never asked for a best friend who’s a ghost.” Effin tenderly put the truck in gear and started down the road. “This still could be all a coincidence.”

“Lefty’s never been wrong before,” Wilson added.

Effin looked down at his hand, and then over to the sketchbook wedged between the seats. His dreams took a turn for the worse last week, always a sign something bad was coming. Still, a trip back to the town he grew up in was the last thing on his calendar. He’d spent a long time and a lot of therapy hours repressing that part of his life. That latest sketch tore open a lot of old wounds. He still wasn’t sure how he’d handle coming back there.

“I wonder if she’s waiting for me?” Effin asked.

“Who?”

“You know who,” Effin snapped.

“You saw her message on HeadRoom didn’t you? She said she can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s been fifteen years since I set foot back here.” Effin felt that old familiar lump tightening in his chest. “They all think I’m some kind of monster. What if they’ve convinced her that I am?”

“I am not an animal! I am a human being,” Wilson chided, curling his fingers in front of the face. “C’mon! She was one of your best friends. If she wasn’t a girl, we’d have probably let her join the gang back then. You worry too much.”

“I prefer justifiably cautious.”

The lump in his throat throbbed. It felt the same way three nights ago when he woke up screaming. Usually his dreams left him short of breath and covered in sweat, but every once in a while, he got what he liked to call a grand mal nightmare that shook him right to his core. His sketchbook was open, lying on the sheets next to him. He didn’t want to look, he knew he didn’t, but the last time he had an episode that bad was the day before his Aunt died, so he didn’t really have much of a choice.

Lefty had been busy.

He didn’t recognize the little girl on the page. She was crying and in pain, surrounded by shadows that were closing in around her. As disturbing as that image was, what really terrified Effin were the eyes hidden in the shadows, watching her, almost like she was some type of prey. When he saw the news that night about the girl that went missing in the woods just outside of The Farm, he knew it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“How much farther until we hit town?” Effin asked.

“Hit may be a poor choice of words considering…”

“Wilson.”

“About twenty minutes,” Wilson answered, pulling his shirt tighter around his chest and shivering. “Could you put that window up? I’m getting a draft.”

“You’re such an ass.”

—3—

Don’t call me Kemosabe

“If you push me one more time, that skirt’s coming down around your ankles,” Murphy snarled, spreading his cape wide. He bore his fangs and hissed as the elevator crept up the shaft.

“And that’ll probably be the most action you’ll see all night,” Caesar laughed, seductively pulling up his robes to show off his hairy knees. Letting the fabric fall, he adjusted the laurel wreath on his head. “Come one. You’ve got to admit it, guys. I make this look good. The real Caesar only wishes he had these guns.”  He laughed, flexing for his friends. “Ka-pow!  Ka-pow!”

“I think if this elevator doesn’t hurry up, I’m going to piss myself.” Denton pushed passed his two friends and pounded impatiently on the doors. He hated living in the dorms, almost as much as he hated ending up in some community college three states removed from his home, drinking cheap booze with a couple of barely-passing morons.

“Yeah, that should make it go faster,” Caesar telegraphed a punch at Denton’s gut.

Denton side stepped and reached for his sidearm strapped to his hip. “Don’t even think about it, peasant.”

Caesar took a step back. “What are you going to do, Stalin? Shoot me?”

Denton straightened his uniform, smoothing out the wrinkles as he admired himself in one of the reflective panels. The thought of dressing as one of history’s greatest tacticians in the land of liberal conformity was the best joke of the night. The irony was hopelessly lost on these two buffoons. The door chimed as the number five lit up. He strode out into the hall.

“Women love a man in uniform,” he said.

“Yeah, a hundred-plus year-old dictator,” Murphy followed behind him. “Real chick magnet.”

Caesar took a drink from a bottle of vodka he had hidden in his robes. He passed it to Murphy as they continued down the hall towards their room. Denton headed in the opposite direction.

“Hey, Mein Furor, how about letting us in the room first?” Murphy yelled down the hall.

Denton waved them off as he opened the door to the communal bathroom. “Commoners can wait.”

The lavatory was empty. Everyone had either headed to or were already at their respective parties for the night. Halloween was a two-week straight-up festival at the college, with a costume party pretty much every night leading up to the actual holiday. He kicked a pile of paper towels crumpled on the floor and sighed. Sharing the bathing facilities was just one of the many atrocities Denton learned to endure during his first year as a Junior at Rumors Mill Community College. It was a far cry from having his own furnished room, complete with a private bath. R.M.C.C. was the only school on the east coast that would take him after his misunderstanding with that tramp at his old school. Even his father’s money could only erase so much. Denton’s only chance at medical school was to keep his record clean. That was more than he could say for the deplorable conditions of that bathroom. Rinsing his hands, Denton returned to his friends, who stood in the hall.

“Thanks for letting us just hang out in the hall with a bottle of liquor,” Caesar sneered. “What if the R.A. came around?”

“Then I’d be safe in the bathroom and claim to have no idea who either of you are,” Denton smiled, the best he was capable, and unlocked the room.

“Why do we hang out with this guy again?” Murphy asked.

“Because he foots the bill for all the alcohol,” Caesar answered.

“Oh, yeah.” Murphy followed them into the tiny dorm room.

Adding insult to injury, the only room available at the school, since Denton’s father refused to pay for an apartment as part of his punishment, was a three-person dorm unit, complete with a set of bunk beds. It was worth every penny he paid Caesar to secure the sole single bed in the room. It was either that or suffer the humility of being the bottom bunk mate to Murphy, whose bodily secretions were almost beyond human.

“It’s like a sauna in here,” Murphy groaned. He stumbled through the scattered clothes and opened the room’s only window as his cape blew in the cool October breeze. “That’s so much better. My vampire balls were sweating.”

“Thanks for sharing that,” Caesar said. He adjusted his robes as he found a seat on the corner of the desk, taking another long swig from the bottle of liquor before passing it back to his friend.

Barbarians. Denton opened the apartment-sized fridge and dropped a couple ice cubes into a small chilled glass. He presented the glass to Murphy, who took a swig from the bottle before filling Denton’s glass. Denton sat at his desk and sipped the liquor. Another of his father’s rules were no more alcohol, but Denton soon realized it was one of the only things to get him through the daily hell his life had become.

“And you’re sure the girls are coming?” Denton asked.

Caesar plopped down on the bed, giving Denton an up-the-robes flash he would have preferred not to see.

“They’ll be here. Relax,” Caesar said. “They were leaving right after we did, and I told them our fridge is stocked.”

“Hey, guys,” Murphy pressed his face against the window screen. “I’m not feeling too hot.”

Caesar laughed. He tore free some tablet sheets from a notebook, and crumpled them into balls. He pelted Murphy with them. “I wonder why. You downed like a quarter keg on your own at the Sigma Delta party, moron.”

Murphy tried to block the bombardment, looking like an inebriated King Kong swatting at the fighter planes.

“Seriously. I think I’m gonna hurl,” Murphy stammered.

“Don’t even think about puking in my bed, jackass,” Caesar stood up to defend his space.

Murphy tripped on a pile of clothes and stumbled into his friend. Caesar braced his leg against the mattress, pushing him away. Murphy’s arms flung in the air as he tumbled backwards.

Denton watched in amusement as he sipped his drink. He swore he wasn’t paying for any more damages these idiots caused to the room. Murphy half turned as he fell. His legs struck the radiator by the window. He crashed through the screen, tumbling outside.

Denton paused, his glass still raised to his lips.

“Murphy!” Caesar screamed. He looked back at Denton, his face a mix of confusion and horror. He peered out over the window ledge.

“Murphy?”

“Pull the idiot back in,” Denton spit. Great, now he’d have to pay to replace the screen.

“He’s… uh. He’s not there,” Caesar leaned farther over the ledge. “Oh, man. Oh, man.”

Denton jumped up, pushing Caesar out of the way. He knew what he saw. He hadn’t had anywhere near as much to drink as his idiot friends, but his brain still wouldn’t allow the image to register. Murphy was sprawled out on the sidewalk five floors below, his neck twisted at an awkward angle.

“No. No. No.” Denton ran towards the door, pausing to look back at Caesar. “Come on!”

They stumbled down the hall. Denton slammed the down button to the elevator repeatedly with his fist. The color drained from Caesar’s face.

“Denton, I didn’t mean for him to… I didn’t—”

“Just shut up! Let’s take the stairs,” Denton said, pushing Caesar back down the hall. Between the booze and shock, he had to practically carry him. Using Caesar as a human battering ram, Denton knocked him into the emergency push bar leading to the stairwell.

Denton’s future seemed bleaker with each step he took. That idiot Murphy was going to cost him his last chance at his father’s money. There would be no other chances. If he didn’t finish school, he’d be waiting tables at one of the family owned restaurants the rest of his life.

Caesar pulled away and vomited in the corner of the next landing. Denton covered his nose with the sleeve of his uniform.

“Move it,” Denton yelled.

“I can’t, man.” Caesar began to sob. “He was just lying there. Didn’t you see his neck?”

“Man, up. Your… our friend needs us.”

Denton dragged him the rest of the way down. He kicked open the door leading outside. The rush of cool air thankfully replaced the smell of fresh puke. Turning the corner, they raced down the sidewalk to the window below their dorm room.

Murphy’s body hadn’t moved. He landed on his stomach, but his head twisted to the side. His cape was sprawled out over his back, and his fake fangs were on the cement near his mouth. His eyes were open, looking directly at them. Denton looked around. No one else seemed to be outside.

“Oh, man. He’s dead. He’s so dead,” Murphy cried.

Denton checked for a pulse. Blood trickled from the side of Murphy’s mouth. Leaning closer, he listened for any sounds of breathing.

“We need to call 911, Denton. Where’s your phone?” Caesar paced back and forth behind him.

Denton instinctively reached for his cell, tucked in the breast pocket of his costume. He paused.

“We can’t call anyone,” he said.

“What?” Caesar quit pacing. “We need to get him some help.”

Denton turned to face him. “He’s dead, Caesar. There’s nothing we can do for him.”

“Oh, man,” Caesar cried. “This is not happening. What are we going to do?”

Grabbing Caesar by both shoulders, Denton shook him, hard. “We’re going to think this through. That’s what we’re going to do.”

Snot rolled down Caesar’s cheek. “What’s there to think about? He’s dead.”

“And we’re not,” Denton snapped. “There’s no sense in all of our lives being ruined over this, is there?”

“But, I mean, he’s dead. There’s nothing else to do.” Caesar wiped the considerable snot from his face using the sleeve of his robe.

“We move the body,” Denton said.

“What?” Caesar broke free. “Aw, hell no. I ain’t touching him.”

Denton moved in closer. He had to press his attack if he had any hope of convincing Caesar of his quickly forming plan. It wouldn’t be long until someone happened by, and then he’d have no options.

“Caesar.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, who pushed it away. “Caesar!” He gripped the collar strap of his friend’s costume.

“I’m not touching him,” Caesar stared at the ground.

“You’re here on an athletic scholarship, right?”

Caesar nodded.

“Do you think they’re going to let you keep that scholarship after they find out about this?” Denton pressed.

“I don’t know,” he finally looked up. “No. Probably not.”

“Damn right, no,” Denton snapped. “We’ll both get kicked out of school, and we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up in prison.”

“I can’t do no prison, man,” Caesar whimpered, his voice shaking.

“No school, no degree, and a record. What’s your mother and father going to think of that?” Denton made sure to look him in the eye. He was close to closing this.

“My mom?” Caesar’s eyes filled with a new batch of tears. “Before she died, she made me promise to do good. I promised, man.”

“Well then, help me,” Denton said. He pointed at the dead vampire at their feet. “We didn’t kill him, Caesar. This is not our fault.”

“I did kind of push him,” Caesar stammered.

“It was an accident,” Denton persisted. “Don’t ruin your life over an accident.”

Caesar stood there silent. Denton tried to read his face, but between the snot and the tears, it was almost impossible. If that didn’t work, he only had one more option, but it was a last resort he hoped to avoid. Caesar’s chest heaved, and his arms fell limp to his sides.

“What do we need to do?” Caesar finally asked, looking beaten.

“Grab an arm,” Denton said. “We’ve got to get him to my car.”

They each grabbed a side, hoisting Murphy’s body off the ground. A little blood from his mouth trickled to the cement, but thankfully Caesar didn’t notice. Denton could come back and clean it up later when he replaced the broken screen. They were pushing their luck already. He slung one of Murphy’s arms around his back and braced his shoulder into his dead friend’s armpit. He was heavier than he expected.

“Murph, I’m so sorry, man,” Caesar cried as they walked.

“Brace his arm around you like I did so we can move him,” Denton ordered.

“Where are we taking him,” he asked.

“We need to get him to my car.” Denton was used to thinking on his feet. It was in his genes. In times of crisis, his ancestors always rose to the challenge. The plan was forming in his mind with each step they took across the yard.

“Hey. You there! Stop.”

Denton and Caesar both froze in mid-step. Denton didn’t recognize the voice, and he was too afraid to turn around.

A security officer came up beside them.

“Where you guys going?”

Denton’s eye started twitching, thinking of all the ways his brilliant plan was about to crumble around him. The officer had his hair slicked back against his head. His short sleeve shirt revealed a formidable physique, and his gun belt was strapped to his waist. Denton was drawn to the taser dangling from his waist, and the holster on the other side. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the banana stuffed into the leather pouch.

“You’re not campus security?” Denton asked.

“Security? Hell, no.” The boy pointed to the patch on his shirt. “I’m the party police.”

Sure enough, there it was in bold yellow letters on his chest. Denton cursed himself for missing that from the start.

“Our friend here has had a little too much to drink.” Denton nodded at Murphy, who dangled between him and Caesar. “We’re just trying to get him home.”

“Dude, he’s definitely done for the night. I’m trying to get home too.” The boy nodded. “I just can’t remember where that is. You guys know where Packard Hall is?”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” Denton said, trying to push passed the banana toting imbecile.

“You guys going to another party?” he asked. “Maybe I could tag along instead?”

“No!” Denton and Caesar yelled in unison.

“Whoa. Turn down the aggression, bros.” He looked genuinely hurt. “I can take a hint.”

“Okay, well, good luck then,” Denton stepped to the side.

“Maybe you could point out where my dorm is though?” he asked.

Denton pointed across the lawn between two buildings.

“Straight through there, hang a left, down two more building on your right. You can’t miss it. It has Packard written in really big letters,” Denton said.

Caesar interrupted, “Isn’t that the student union?”

Denton glared at him. “It’s Packard. Trust me.” He pointed at their new friend. “Off you go. You don’t want to get caught by campus police.”

“No way, man. Those guys suck.” He headed in the direction Denton had pointed, stopping to wave back at them. “Thanks, again. Cool costumes.”

Caesar’s knees wobbled under him, “I so thought we were busted.”

“Let’s keep moving. We’re pushing our luck,” Denton said.

“Yeah, but after we get to your car, then where?”

“The only place where we have a chance of pulling this off.” Denton readjusted his dead friend’s weight across his back as actions and consequences raced through his head. It would work. Circumstances developing around town as they had of late, it could very well work. “We’re taking him to the abandoned genetic lab outside of town.”

“Where?” Caesar stammered.

He should have known better than to think this moron would know that, even in a non-drunken state. He needed to say it in terms he was familiar.

“We’re going to the Monkey Farm.”

—4—

Memories in Glass

“He said he’d be here around seven,” Elle said, wiping the same spot for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“It’s seven-thirty, give the guy a break,” Floyd said from the end of the bar, finishing off his beer.

“I know,” she answered. “But he just reached out to me, out of the blue. It’s been what? Fourteen years?”

“Fifteen.” Floyd politely corrected between sips.

“Ok. Whatever.” Elle put the rag down, and then immediately picked it back up. “I mean, why now? He’s never so much as sent a card, a phone call, smoke message, and then… bam.”

Elle poured a draft beer, sliding it down the bar to a customer. The man tipped his ball cap before taking a swig.

“Got a young feller come calling for you, Elle,” the man asked.

“Something like that, Earl,” she said, smiling at him.

“Not from around here I take it,” Earl added, dipping a chicken wing into a bowl of hot sauce.

“Umm… not really.” Elle filled a tray of pretzels. “Though he used to be.”

“Oh yeah, what’s his name?” He reached across the bar for the bowl.

Elle turned around to fill a glass with ice. “Jones,” she mumbled.

The bar fell silent. If Charlie, the owner, could have afforded a jukebox, it probably would have turned off right about then. The clank of each ice cube hitting the empty glass rattled like Elle was ringing the tower bells of London instead of filling a cup. She turned around. Everyone was staring at her.

“What?” she asked, louder than she attended to.

The handful of men scattered throughout the small bar sat in silence, with the occasional glance between them. She felt like she’d just stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Any minute, an evil insect overlord would come crashing through the door and zap her with its antennae death ray.

Earl took a long drag from his beer. “The Jones boy? What’s he doing coming back around here?”

Elle grew up in Rumors Mill. It was the only place she’d ever called home. She went to school there, attended church two blocks away, fell in love a couple times, fell back out, found her own place in the world, and knew just about every face in town. But for the first time, she felt like a stranger. It was as if the temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees. The back of her neck felt clammy.

“He doesn’t have any business around here,” one of the men said. “Not after all that mess he caused.”

“Kind of funny, him coming back with that little girl gone missing and all,” another patron added, never turning his back from the electronic poker machine in the corner. “Just saying.”

“Yeah, it’s been quiet around here all this time,” Roy, bus driver by day, loud mouth drunk by night, chimed in.

A couple guys in the back corner caught Elle’s eye. She’d never seen either of them in the bar before, but that happened every once in a while. Maybe a couple of truckers or gas well riggers passing through. They seemed to perk up when the conversation turned to Effin though.

“Floyd!” Bus driver Roy yelled from the end of the bar. “Hey! Floyd.”

The man near Elle stared at the bottom of his pitcher of beer.

“Floyd, you drunk. Look here.” Roy wasn’t giving up.

Eventually, he conceded and looked down the bar.

“You were out there that day. You saw what happened. You want to see that Jones-guy back around here? Look at what he did to the Beaumont boy,” Roy growled.

“Don’t mean nothing,” Floyd stammered, his hand fidgeting around the handle of his beer mug. “They never proved it was him or nothing.”

Elle didn’t like where this was heading. She glanced at the phone, wondering if she should call down to the police station for Trip.

“Didn’t prove it was him?” The legs of Roy’s chair scraped the floor as he stumbled to his feet. He pointed a shaky finger Floyd’s way. “That boy was sliced up like an animal. Parts of ‘em found all over that field, and the Jones boy came back covered in blood. They never did find the rest of him.”

“You’re telling me something like I wasn’t there.” Floyd looked around, meeting all the stares directed at him.

Elle rested her hand on the receiver. The last thing she needed was a bar fight. Her other hand slid under the bar, fingers wrapping around the handle of The Negotiator, a wooden ball bat that had settled more than one misunderstanding between patrons. Tensions had been running high ever since that little girl went missing. The town had a bit of its own history when it came to missing kids.

“I knew Effin my whole life,” Floyd stammered. “He’s a little weird, but he sure as hell ain’t no killer. There was something else out there that day. Something…”

“Something what?” Roy pressed him. “A bear? Ain’t no bear I ever seen done anything like that before.”

Floyd shrugged, turning his attention back to his beer.

“Maybe it was one of them Bigfeet?” someone yelled.

The bar erupted into laughter. Floyd finished his glass with one hand and was already pouring himself another round with the other. He shook the empty pitcher at Elle.

“It’s all cause of that damned place the government built up in those woods,” Roy said. He was in full blown conspiracy theory mode. There was no stopping him.

“That’s for sure,” the guy next to him jumped in. “They did some crazy shit up there is what I heard.”

Elle eased her hand away from the phone and let go of the Negotiator. The potential of an actual fight had peaked. It was all stories and I heard this and that from here on in. She looked over at Floyd. She saw the quiet panic in his eyes. Taking the pitcher, she filled it with his favorite draft.

“This one’s on the house,” she said.

He nodded. “Thanks, Elle.”

“I heard they were mixing animals together to use them in war and stuff,” Roy said. “Like tiger-sharks.”

“Naw. I heard they found a whole spaceship full of aliens back when that weather balloon went down over in Crawford County back in ’73,” Earl countered. “The government sent in all those trucks and cleaned it up overnight. I remember seeing the tire tracks.”

“Whatever it was, I’m just glad it finally shut down,” Roy said, drawing nods of approval all across the bar. “It’s been nothing but an eye-sore for like twenty-five years.”

“All it is now is a place for all those college kids to go and party,” Roy said, downing his own beer.

Elle laughed to herself. It wasn’t that long ago she was one of those college kids they were complaining about. She heard all the same stories. The government built The Monkey Farm back in the seventies. It was legend around Rumors Mill, as much a part of the town as Halloween, the Tooth Fairy, and the Boogey Man all wrapped into one. Poor drunk Floyd knew the legend better than most. He was one of the boys in the woods that day. Him, Effin, Trip Daniels, and Wilson Beaumont, all went out for a day of boyhood fun and came back with adult nightmares. All of them except Wilson, who never came back at all. She only saw Effin a few times after that day. The last time, he was waving through the back of a car window, out of town and out of her life. Forever. Or so she thought.

“Don’t let them get to you, Floyd,” she said. “Sometimes they just talk to hear themselves.”

“I been living with it ever since that day, Elle,” he said. “I’ll be living with it until I die.”

When she heard about the latest missing little girl, she knew the past was coming full circle. Wilson was actually the second kid to come up missing in the woods outside of the Farm. There was another girl back in the nineties, a daughter of one of the scientists who worked there. She disappeared after some kind of accident while the lab was still running. The investigation went quiet almost as fast as it happened. In a town that size, one kid is a tragedy, two makes a mystery, and three, well, that makes people nervous. If there’s one thing she’d learned working in a bar for five years is that nervous people can be dangerous people. Effin may as well have been the reincarnated version of Jack the Ripper to them.

“Maybe you should text him or something,” Floyd slurred.

“What?” Elle asked.

“Effin. Maybe you should like give him a heads up, and let him know what’s waiting for him, you know.” Floyd looked over his shoulder at the door. “Could get a little ugly.”

“Probably not a bad idea,” she said, reaching for her cell phone in her back pocket. “They’re making him out to be some kind of monster.”

—5—

Highway Houdinis

“It’s not a drawbridge,” Wilson said, shifting in his seat.

“I know it’s not a drawbridge,” Effin repeated.

“Or a toll bridge,” Wilson added, softly whistling to himself.

They’d been sitting in the same spot, a small pull-off just before the Conestoga Bridge, for the last fifteen minutes. It was the main route into town, supported high above the Conestoga River. Effin crossed that same bridge a thousand times as a boy living in Rumors Mill. He remembered watching the water running below them on their way to Sunday services, feeling the soft vibrations from the metal grating under the tires.

That was then.

A fog rose up from the river, slipping through the grating, giving an eerie feel to the whole scene. Just step on the gas. That’s all he had to do, but his foot didn’t want to cooperate. Crossing that threshold was like ripping open an old wound, one he’d worked hard to keep closed.

“Do you think maybe there’s a troll?” Wilson asked. “None shall pass.”

“Okay. I get it. We’re going.”

Effin eased the truck onto the bridge. A car passed, going the opposite way, and he felt the tiny vibrations from the bridge’s suspension wires all the way in his throat. He’d imagined coming home before. The sights. The smell of the river. It brought memories crashing back to him, the weekend trips to Greenfield State Park, the cookouts, his mom and dad, hamburgers on the grill. Sometimes he wondered if that ever really happened at all.

He drove down Main Street, lined with vacant store fronts on either side. Effin couldn’t find even one that looked like it was still in business.

“Man, this place looks like a ghost town,” Wilson said. “See what I did there?”

“You’re hilarious,” Effin chuckled. They passed the drug store his dad used to take him to when they picked us his mom’s special pills. He pointed as they passed. “My dad would let me buy bubble gum every time we went there. Remember the kind that looked like chewing tobacco?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Great stuff.”

Wilson seemed lost in his own thoughts. Effin never really thought about how the trip would affect him. They’d been best friends since kindergarten. They were always in the same classes at school, usually sitting next to one another. He was the one person in the world who knew Effin almost as well as he knew himself. The teachers called them the Dynamic Duo, and for the first ten years of his life, Effin truly believed they’d be friends forever. All that changed in one afternoon. It took exactly one day to rip Effin’s world apart. He left his innocence back in those woods that day, turning from a normal kid into something else, something darker, almost a shadow of the person he was.

“Look.” Wilson pointed. “There’s the old movie theater.”

Effin stared at the faded paint of the marquee. At least it looked like it was still running. The movies advertised on the front banner were far from new. They were already out on DVD. It was probably one of those on cable in the next couple weeks discount theaters.

The theater is where he and Wilson were reunited after his life went due south. It was about month after the incident. Effin remembered sitting in the balcony of the theater by himself, looking to get lost in pretty much anything for a few hours. Something on screen made him laugh, the first chuckle he’d had in weeks. He almost felt guilty doing it, but then someone else behind him laughed, almost like a whisper in the back of his head. He spun around, figuring it was one of the kids from school, the same group who’d been hounding him, calling him the Rumors Mill Mangler.

Instead he turned around and saw Wilson, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Remember that movie?” Wilson asked.

“Big Hairy Spiders from Uranus?” Effin turned off the main road, passing the Rumors Mill Public Library.

“I never knew why it didn’t win an Oscar,” Wilson quipped, without even a trace of sarcasm.

Seeing Wilson back in that theater, Effin figured all the pressure had finally gotten to him, and he’d lost his mind. When Wilson asked him for some of his popcorn, he knew he was heading straight for the kid-sized crazy house. But instead of a mental breakdown, he felt a strange comfort of having his dead friend beside him again. They talked about school, about girls, about pretty much everything except for that day in the woods. It was like they never skipped a beat. Effin tried to bring it up, but Wilson would just blow it off, pretending like he didn’t hear him. It had been that way ever since.

“You know, I think I still have a book overdue,” Wilson said, cutting into Effin’s memories.

“I’m sure they forgot about it by now.” Effin stopped at a traffic light, one that wasn’t there before. He pointed up at it. “This is new.”

“I’m not so sure about the book.” Wilson sunk down farther in his seat, like a convict with a bag full of money in the back. “I saw a show, Real Tales of the Library Police, where they tracked a guy down after like forty years for an overdue copy of Huckleberry Finn. He owed twenty thousand dollars.”

“If I hear sirens, I’ll floor it,” Effin joked.

After they left the movie theater that day, Wilson almost had him convinced the whole thing was just some sort of bad dream, like everything may just turn out alright. They joked and laughed all the way into town. They were down by city hall before he noticed everyone was staring. It was another couple blocks before he put it together, and he realized that no one else could see Wilson. What they did see was crazy Effin Jones strolling through the middle of town, laughing like a maniac and talking to himself. Ever since that day, he learned to keep his special relationship with his friend to himself. Not him mom, not his dad, not his friends, not Elle, no one knew about him and Wilson.

“I don’t think I’d look good in orange…or stripes,” Wilson said, looking out the back window to make sure they weren’t being followed as they passed the jail. “Where exactly are we meeting Elle?”

They drove passed Ernie’s barber shop, the same place Effin got his very first haircut. Ernie had a spaceship inside his shop, like one of those rides they put outside of grocery stores that you’d beg your parents for a quarter for. The cool thing was that it actually was a barber chair meant for kids. Getting a haircut was like going on a lunar adventure.

“I told her we’d just meet her at Charlie’s Bar, but then she sent me that weird text before we hit town,” Effin said.

“I still can’t believe she works at a bar,” Wilson said. “It always seemed like she was meant for something… bigger.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You still got the hots for her, don’t you?”

Effin gave his friend the stink eye. “The hots? Really?”

“You always went all goofy when she was around.” Wilson grinned. “We all knew that you wanted to marry her and have like a dozen kids.”

“Right. Could you see me as a dad?”

Effin’s own father was a quiet man. He didn’t have the kind of relationship with his father like his other friends had. It was almost… clinical, if that made any sense. They said his grandfather, on his mother’s side, worked at the Rumors Mill Paper Plant as a line foreman. He died when Effin was four. He built his family around his job, the same industry the whole town was practically founded around. Effin’s dad didn’t grow up in Rumors Mill. He was from down south, somewhere in Florida, but he didn’t talk much about it. They wanted his dad to follow in the family business and get a job at the plant. His dad didn’t want any part of it. Instead he always found other jobs, like as a night watchman, or over the road driver, things that kept him away for days and weeks on end. Effin figured it was honest work, but it also fueled plenty of arguments between his mom and dad about being gone so much.

“Why aren’t you allowed to go inside the bar?” Wilson pointed to a sign for a second-hand clothing store named Second Time’s A Charm. “I didn’t expect a homecoming parade or anything, but that seemed kind of harsh.”

“I don’t know,” Effin replied. “She said it just didn’t seem like a good idea. She wants me to park around back and text her when we get there.”

“Maybe she’s married?” Wilson posed.

“She didn’t say anything like that. Her profile was marked as single.” Effin passed through another intersection.

“Oh, yeah, well, the internet is the land of truths,” Wilson snickered. “I bet she’s married with three kids.”

“You saw the picture,” Effin said, shaking his head.

“I have one word for you, my friend. Photo editing.”

“That’s two, numbskull.”

“I hyphenated it.”

“You can’t… never mind.” They were only a couple blocks away. Effin felt his stomach already knotting. He’d thought about what he was going to say to Elle ever since he decided to return home. Maybe it’d been too long, and what they say is true, that you can never really go home. Or maybe no one there wants you.

Red and blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror. A siren chirped, and Effin saw the headlights flashing in his side mirror. Wilson immediately began panicking.

“It’s not the library police. Will you give it a rest already?” Effin snapped.

He found somewhere to pull over, driving into a bank parking lot. The police cruiser eased in behind him, coming in at an angle. So much for sneaking into town unnoticed. He was sure he wasn’t speeding. Maybe he had a tail light out. Sitting there, waiting for the officer, he felt like somebody just lit a neon sign over his head screaming look at this guy.

“Effin.” Wilson said.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been pulled over by the police. Driving in the city, there seemed like there was a police car on every block. He also wasn’t the best of drivers. He had a pretty short attention span, and his mind liked to wander while he drove. The giant dent in his front fender was a reminder to keep his eyes on the road.

“Effin.”

He wondered what officers did while they sat in their car after pulling someone over. Were they sipping coffee, playing soduko, or just trying to mess with the driver and make them even more nervous than they already were. Time seemed to stand still, sitting in the bank parking lot, waiting for something to happen.

“Effin.”

“What?” He finally looked over at Wilson.

“I’m not wearing my seatbelt. Do you think I should try to sneak it on?”

The door to the cruiser finally opened. Effin watched someone get out. They turned their flashlight on and shined it directly into his side mirror, pretty much blinding him. He shielded his eyes with his hand.

“They do that on purpose,” Wilson said. “So, you can’t see them coming.”

“They do not.”

“I saw it on Secret Police Tactics,” Wilson persisted. “They keep you disoriented and then POW, they appear like Highway Houdinis.”

“Would you shut up already,” Effin snarled.

“Excuse me?” The officer at his door shined his light inside the truck’s cab.

“Oh. Not you, officer. I mean, I just… is there a problem?” Effin asked. Some days having a ghost for a best friend seemed more trouble than it was worth.

“Told you,” Wilson whispered.

The officer’s light focused on Effin’s face. He squinted as the light passed over him and did a quick search of the rest of the interior.

“You didn’t stop at the last intersection,” he said.

“I didn’t? I guess I’m not used to all the changes. I used to live around here.” Effin put on his best face, trying to keep his heart from racing.

“License and registration.”

“Yeah, got them right here.” Effin fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket. It felt like someone super glued it in place as he wrestled his ID free from the slot. Reaching across the cab, he froze when the officer’s flashlight trained on the messenger’s bag sitting between him and Wilson on the front seat.

“What’s in the bag,” he asked.

Effin’s hand hovered over the latch to the truck’s glove box. He could see the pages of his sketchbook jutting out from the top of the bag. How in the world would he explain that? Oh, that. That’s my drawing tablet. My left hand unconsciously draws on it every night while I’m sleeping, and I wake up to find some new blood-laden image that occasionally comes true. Here, check out Lefty’s latest creation of the little girl that’s gone missing from your town.

“We’re so going to jail,” Wilson said.

“Just some personals,” Effin answered. “I’m back for a visit. Like I said, I used to live around here.”

“I heard you the first time.” The officer’s light stayed trained on the sketchbook. “You some kind of artist or something?”

“Oh, man, he’s going to put the habeus grabus on you,” Wilson chimed in from the passenger seat.

“I doodle around a bit. That’s all.” Effin opened his glove box and removed the registration papers for the truck.

“That’s Latin for choke hold.” Wilson shifted sideways in his seat, probably to get a better view of the pending beat down.

Effin handed the officer the papers and his ID and watched as he shined his light on them. He just stood there, staring at Effin’s license. It couldn’t take that long to read off someone’s name and date of birth. The seconds felt like minutes. Effin fidgeted in his seat.

“Throw it in drive and we’ll make a break for it,” Wilson urged.

That was not an option. Effin may not have been the smartest guy, but he wasn’t a fool either. Wilson just liked to make his life as difficult as possible at times.

“You know, I used to know a guy by the name Effin Jones. Ain’t too many of them around I’d suppose.” The officer leaned in to get a closer look at him.

“Do I know you?” Effin shifted back in the seat.

“I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle.”

“It was just a stop sign,” Effin protested.

“Step outside the truck, sir.” The officer’s voice sounded almost mechanical.

“Learn to play the harmonica,” Wilson said. “They say time in the joint goes quicker if you learn a skill.”

Effin stepped out and followed as the officer motioned him towards the back of the truck, in between the cruiser and his tailgate. He hadn’t left town on the most positive of terms. More than a few people blamed him for Wilson’s death. Still, it seemed a bit extreme to treat him like one of America’s most wanted. The cruiser’s headlights flashed across the officer’s chest and Effin caught sight of his name tag. No way.

“Trip? Is that you?”

“That’s Chief Daniels to you,” the man said, scowling at him.

At first, Effin thought maybe he made a mistake, and this was some other guy whose father happened to be the former chief of police in town. Then the officer’s grimace faded, replaced by a warm-hearted smile that Effin remembered all too well.

“It is you, isn’t it,” Effin asked.

“Effin. How the hell are you?”

Before he knew if, Effin was trapped in a bear hug as the man wrapped both arms around him and squeezed. Effin felt the air leaving his lungs.

“Holy shit! Jump go limp,” Wilson yelled from the cab. “Don’t fight back! It’ll only make it worse!”

When Effin felt the ability to breathe return, he gingerly wrapped his arms around his friend and patted his back.

“I’m good, Trip,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

Letting go, Sheriff Daniels stepped back. “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Same here,” Effin said. “I missed you.”

“What did you just say? Trip’s the fuzz?” Wilson asked, now standing near the back of the truck.

Trip was one of the pack back in the day. He was out there with Effin and Wilson that fateful day in the woods. They were like brothers back then, tighter than brothers, thicker than blood. They all swore to have each other’s backs, no matter where they ended up, or how long they’d been apart.

“What brings you back to town?” Trip asked.

“I’m trying to work some stuff out, you know, from back then,” Effin said. “Figured I’d take a chance and see Elle.”

“She’s working down at Charlie’s Bar. She has been for a few years now,” Trip said, looking down the street in that direction. “She’s a good girl.”

“Yeah, she told me. That’s where we’re… I’m heading.” Even after all the years, Effin still caught himself using plurals where he shouldn’t.

“She’ll be excited to see you.” Trip handed Effin’s license and paperwork back. “How long you planning to be around?”

“Effin! Tell Trip I said hi,” Wilson repeated. He seemed genuinely happy to see their old friend.

“A few days. Long enough to see Elle, maybe visit the old house. Stuff like that,” Effin said.

“You going to carve out a little time to come see me? I’d love to catch up a bit.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Effin stuffed the registration and license into his back pocket. “So, it’s chief of police, huh? I didn’t think your dad was that old.”

“He’s not. He had a heart attack a few years back, forced him into an early retirement. He’s not complaining about all the fishing he’s getting in. Name recognition goes a long way in a small town like this. I can’t complain. It’s a good gig most of the time.”

“I’m happy for you,” Effin said, and he genuinely was. Trip was always one of the good guys. It didn’t surprise him he followed his dad’s footsteps and became a cop. It fit him.

“Thanks.” Trip walked him back to the front of his truck and opened the door as Effin climbed in. “You know we got a missing girl up there near the Farm.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that,” Effin said. He thought about telling Trip about his visions and his drawings. Maybe he’d believe he was there to help and not a total whack job with homicidal nightmares. He also knew people changed with time, and he couldn’t say for certain that was the same Trip he’d known as a boy.

“Kind of funny, don’t you think. I mean you showing up after all these years at the same time we got another missing kid.”

Good call on the no sharing with Trip idea.

“I just wanted to see Elle,” Effin said. “Nothing more.”

“Yeah. Don’t blame you.” Trip shut the door. “Okay, go see your girl. I’ll stop over sometime tomorrow and check in on you. Where are you staying?”

“Elle said she had a place I could use.”

“Right. She owns a few rentals. I heard one was open.” Trip patted the roof of the truck. “Stay out of trouble, Jones.”

“I will. Good seeing you, Trip.” Effin had no problem wanting to stay away from trouble. The problem was that it seemed to follow him around like a shadow.

Effin pulled his truck back onto the road. Trip waved as he pulled away.

“You didn’t tell him I said hi.” Wilson was comfortably back in the passenger seat.

“I somehow doubt that would have helped our cause.” Effin turned at the next intersection.

“At least he seemed happy to see you,” Wilson said.

“Yeah, at least at first he did.” Effin saw the sign for Charlie’s Bar down the street.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Wilson asked.

“Tell him what?”

“About the girl.”

“What about the girl?” Effin looked over at his friend.

“That you saw her in your dreams, or at least Lefty did.”

Effin saw the neon sign for Charlie’s Corner Bar up ahead.

“Maybe coming back here wasn’t such a great idea.”

—6—

Ballroom Blitzkrieg

“I’m more sober now than at any point I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

Caesar’s head hung out the window of Denton’s Audi as the cool night breeze rushed into the car’s interior. Denton could still smell the hint of vomit on his passenger’s breath. After the third pullover for a puke request, Denton had to threaten to leave him along the road if he asked one more time. His head raced as fast as the luxury coupe’s engine ever since they pulled out of the student parking lot. The oversized duffle bag he used for his polo equipment was just big enough to stuff Murphy’s body into.

“Again,” Denton demanded.

“Come on, man. I got it,” Caesar pulled his head back inside.

“Again,” Denton repeated with more emphasis.

“We were at an apartment party in town. I can’t remember the name of the guy having it, but it was crazy crowded. Murphy was hitting the liquor hard, and he hooked up with some chick dressed up like a cheerleader,” Caesar said.

“Some girl,” Denton corrected. “We don’t need to sound like a couple of frat guys.”

“Girl. Right.”

“What color was her hair?” Denton rolled down his window to air out the smell of vomit. He hoped it wouldn’t soak into the leather.

“What does it matter what color—”

“She was blond,” Denton cut him short. “The details, Caesar. The police look for the details. If I say she was a blond, and you say she had red hair, then we look suspicious. Our stories have to match exactly.”

“Okay. Okay. I get it.” Caesar rested his head against the door pillar. “We could still turn around, you know? Tell them what happened. We could show them it was just an accident.”

The Audi’s anti-lock brakes were all that kept the car’s wheels from sliding across the darkened road as Denton jerked the car to a stop.

“Is that what you want, Caesar?” The anger in Denton’s voice proved harder to contain than he expected. “We’ll just drive back into town, wave down the first cop we see, and tell him we’ve got our friend’s body stuffed into my polo bag in the trunk. Oh, and by the way, it was all just an accident. One big damn misunderstanding.”

Caesar hung his head down. “It does sound kind of stupid when you say it that way.”

“Of course, it sounds stupid. They’ll fry us both. I’m not willing to throw away my life because of some stupid drunken accident. Are you?” Denton reached down to his side.

“No.”

“I need you to be with me on this,” Denton said. “All or nothing.”

“I’m in,” Caesar conceded. “I’ve just never touched a dead body before. It freaked me out.”

Unfortunately for Denton, the same didn’t apply to him. He pulled back onto the road. His classmate had been much easier to manipulate when he was drunk. After sobering up, he was becoming more of a complication than Denton expected. He had to keep his cool, or Caesar would never see this through.

“It freaked me out, too,” Denton said. “Look. We’re almost there. The entrance is just up ahead. We’ll finish syncing up our stories later. Just try to get yourself pulled together.”

They drove the last half mile in welcomed silence. No babbling. No crying, just the hint of vomit and whatever other bodily functions Caesar unleashed from his side of the car. He started shivering a couple miles outside of town, so Denton gave him an old sweatshirt to put on over his robes, making him look even more ridiculous. When the headlights finally reflected off the vine covered entrance sign, Denton breathed a small sigh of relief. Ever since leaving town, every set of headlights made his whole-body tense. When they saw that cop pulling someone over near the bank in town, he thought they were done for, especially when Caesar burst into tears. Denton pulled onto the gravel path and put the car in park.

“Get out and open the gate,” he said.

“But I…” Caesar started to protest, but cut himself off. He obediently shuffled out of the car. He wrestled with the lock and chain wrapped around one of the poles, but as much to his own surprise as anyone’s, he finally worked it free.

The authorities tried to keep all the entrances to the old lab closed, but it was the go to party spot for both the locals and college kids ever since it closed. Every time they changed the locks, or put up fresh chains, the kids would just cut them or steal them. Eventually they gave up trying.

Denton turned his headlights off. The parking lights would suffice for the rest of the trip. With the conditions of the old dirt road, they’d be traveling at a near-crawl for the five minutes it took to get to the main building. Even with the car’s upgraded suspension package, Denton felt the deep ruts in the road as they travelled up the hill. He glanced over at Caesar who worked at chewing off the last of his fingernails and spitting them out the window.

Denton checked his phone for service. “We’ll put Murphy just inside the building, at one of the party spots. Let’s just hope no one else is up here.”  No service, not even a bar. It only added to the place’s mystery, but cell phone signals went dead within a mile of the abandoned laboratory.

“I think I have blood on my hands,” Caesar said.

“I have wipes in the trunk.” Denton couldn’t help but realize the irony of his friend’s statement. While he didn’t expect greatness from his dim-witted comrade, Denton was still surprised by the pure idiocy he was capable of. Denton saw the silhouette of the old lab’s main building through the trees ahead.

“I still don’t see the point.” Caesar continued to unravel, switching to a different form of self-mutilation by incessantly scratching his arms.

“The search parties for the missing girl?” Denton looked at Caesar, waiting for some form of understanding. “You don’t know about the missing girl, do you?”

“I don’t watch the news,” Caesar said. “It depresses me.”

Good lord. Caesar was one of those six-years-to-a-degree students who saw nothing wrong with extending their college existence as long as possible. He barely passed the majority of his courses, and he felt that earning a bachelor degree in whatever liberal arts major that caught his eye was his key to a good life and his parents’ approval. Success, true success, meant much more than that. Denton’s father taught him that even before he was teenager. It meant focusing on a goal and letting nothing get in your way to achieve it.

He spoke to Caesar like he would a child.

“A small girl went missing in the woods near here two days ago. The whole town has been searching for her. The search parties are expanding their search to include this area.” Denton paused again, still hoping for some sign of sentience from his friend.

Caesar’s only response was scratching his arm more until he drew blood.

“Would you please stop that!” Denton hissed. “Have you ever heard of this little thing they discovered called DNA?”

“Sorry, man,” Caesar whined. “I’m nervous.”

“Whatever. Look. They’ll find Murphy inside the building by one of the fire pits.” Denton pointed to the back seat. “We’ll leave that half-empty bottle of whiskey next to him and the small bag of weed from your pocket.”

“How’d you know about my stash?” Caesar said, seeming genuinely surprised.

“I sleep in the same room as you. You’re not exactly discreet.”

Denton stopped at the crest of the hill.

The research facility was supposedly started by the U.S. Government in the late 80’s. It never really had a formal name, at least none Denton read of. The townspeople and professors alike loved to recount the stories of all the big black trucks that travelled the roads back then. No one seemed to know exactly went on there. Most stories centered around the place being involved in animal experimentation. Opinions seemed divided after that, with some believing it was medical in nature, and others were convinced it involved weapons development. There was an urban legend of a boy, half-bear and half-human, who escaped from one of the trucks. The creature made its way into town and had to be put down by a group of soldiers dressed in all black. The whole thing was allegedly covered up. Another mystery added to the town’s already dark history.

“We’re here.” Denton shut the car off and opened his door, moving to the trunk. “I’m going to need some help back here.”

Caesar reluctantly followed.

Popping the trunk with his remote, he motioned for Caesar to grab the bag with Murphy’s body.

“What?” Caesar asked. “You don’t seriously think I’m carrying him myself. You didn’t even help me put him in there.”

“I don’t... oh, all right.” Denton knew he could only push him so far, and they were so close to completely the task. He had his own part to play before they called it a night.

Grabbing the outside straps, the two made their way up a path lined by the fallen leaves of the trees around them. They stopped at the side of the building. A doorway was covered by an old piece of plywood, the screws securing it had been ripped out years ago. Murphy’s body weighed more than Denton had expected. He was more than a little out of breath by the time they reached the entrance. He let go of his side of the straps. Murphy fell to the ground with a thud.

“Hey, come on, Denton. Show a little respect,” Caesar said.

“He’s dead. It’s not like he can feel anything.”

Pushing the wooden barricade to the side, Caesar helped to lift Murphy across the cement floor.

“Don’t drag him, you idiot.” Denton snapped, lifting the bag higher. “We don’t want anyone seeing drag marks across the floor.”

“Sorry,” Caesar said. “I’m new at this.”

Pulling a flashing light from pocket, Denton led the way through the darkened passages. Beer cans littered the floor with the occasional hypodermic needle or condom wrapper as they pushed on into the next room. There were no windows, only Denton’s small light to guide them into the much larger room. The cement walls and high ceilings gave the area an eerie echo as they made their way to the center of the room. Two pull down metal garage doors suggested the room was used as a cargo area when the place was still running. Both doors were sealed shut with heavy metal beams that had rusted in place over the years. An array of graffiti lined the walls around them, nonsensical symbols, a few fraternity letters, names of partiers long past, and of course, the occasional crude phallic representations. With all the parties happening at the college, he guessed right there would be no one there.

Denton motioned for Caesar to let the bag down near a homemade fire pit.

“This is the spot,” he said.

The pit was constructed of concrete blocks from a nearby wall, knocked down years ago. More empty beer cans and some charred wood lined the center of the cement hearth. Denton noticed the remains of a student’s textbook in the corner, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare still visible on the binding. Animals. While not a devoted fan of the playwright’s work in its entirety, the burning of the text sickened him. The irony of him thinking that while dressed in a military uniform while disposing of the body of a former ally wasn’t lost on him. A couple of dilapidated folding chairs and a sadly deteriorated recliner encircled the crude block structure.

Looking up, Denton noted the high ceilings of the truck bay above them, the metal rafters ran the entire length of the room. Wooden planks were placed between the rafters as makeshift bridges between the beams. A chain was fastened to an eyelet in the ceiling, hanging almost to the ground. If it all worked out, they’d chalk up Murphy’s death to a drunken accident. Kids have been climbing between the rafters for years and using the chain as a poor man’s Tarzan swing.

“I think I pulled something in my back,” Denton said, grabbing at his side. “Get him out of the bag and put him near that chain.”

“Are you going to help?” Caesar asked, but had already unzipped the bag and begun pulling his friend’s body free.

“If I twist this muscle any worse, you’ll be carrying me back out of here.”

“You seemed fine a minute ago.” Caesar already had Murphy more than half way out of the duffle bag.

“I supplied the car and the plan,” Denton snapped. “The least you could provide is a little muscle.”

“Oh, man. His eyes are open, Denton. He’s looking right at me.”

Denton watched as Caesar pulled Murphy’s corpse free and positioned him near the end of the chain. He looked into Murphy’s glazed eyes, which seemed to focus directly on him.

“Okay, now put a couple of those beer cans next to him. His blood alcohol level was probably three times the limit. The search party will find him tomorrow or the next day. They’ll figure he was out here being a drunken ass, slipped off the chain and broke his neck when he hit the floor. They’ve been warning kids to stay away from here for years. Nobody will think otherwise.”

Even he had to admit, his plan wasn’t half-bad.

“So, how’d he get out here then? There’s not going to be a car around.” Caesar asked, proud of his own little bit of cross-examination.

“That’s not our problem. The last thing we know is he left the party with the blond girl and some of her friends. We didn’t know who they were. That’s the last we saw of Murphy.”

“I don’t know if I can pull this off,” Caesar said.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Did you hear something?” Caesar jumped up and looked around the room, scratching at his arms. A drop of blood oozed down his forearm.

“It’s probably rats. Let’s get moving.” Denton didn’t want to admit it, but he heard it too. It sounded like someone gargling. He shined his light around the open bay, and then up into the steel beams overhead. Nothing.

“Wait.” Caesar bent down and listened. “I heard it again. It sounded like someone… talking.”

“Go check that side of the bay, and I’ll look over here.” He pointed to the other side of the room.

Denton realized there was a chance someone else could be at the Farm when he first decided to bring Murphy there, but it was a risk worth taking. Without any other cars around, the only other possibility was a town hobo or maybe a junkie. Still, if there was a potential witness, his whole plan was crippled. They had to make sure.

“Oh my God!” Caesar shouted.

Denton almost jumped out of his jackboots as he turned and ran back towards his friend.

“What is it?” he asked.

He didn’t understand the glazed over look on Caesar’s face, a mix of fear and surprise. He followed his friend’s finger, pointing down at Murphy’s body.

“It’s Murphy,” Caesar whispered. “He’s alive.”

Pushing Caesar out of the way, Denton leaned in next to their friend, and put his ear to the boy’s chest, listening for any signs of life. When he heard the noises from Murphy’s throat, he stumbled back.

“Help me.” Murphy whimpered. His voice was weak, so hoarse the words were barely audible.

Caesar flung himself down beside Murphy’s head, tears streaming from both eyes.

“Murphy! Oh, man. We thought you were dead. You fell out of the freaking window.” Caesar spun around and looked at Denton like he’d just received the greatest Christmas present in his life. “Denton, call 911 or something. We need to get him to the hospital.”

Fumbling for his cell phone in his front shirt pocket, Denton placed the phone up to his ear and watched as Caesar tried to sooth their friend.

“It’s okay, Murphy. Denton is going to call and get you some help. Don’t you worry, buddy.”

A million thoughts rushed through Denton’s head as he looked at his phone screen and saw the No Signal icon flashing. Even if they could get an ambulance out there, how would they explain how Murphy ended up there? Could they get him to go along with some story they concocted about moving him? Maybe they could get him back to the car if they were careful and drive him to the hospital themselves, but they’d still have to explain why they didn’t simply call them from the college. Each plan unraveled around him as fast as he saw his future fading away. He remembered his father’s last words to him as he signed the tuition check. Don’t screw this one up.

“You hang in there, my man. We’ll make this right. We should have never brought you out here in the first place.” Caesar voice cracked as he stroked Murphy’s cheek. “Everything is going to work out.”

The echo of the 9mm Luger’s discharge cracked through the empty storage bay like a clasp of thunder before a lightning storm. The fifty-cent sized hole it left in the back of Caesar’s head was even more impressive. Blood and brains poured out onto the cement floor. Something had to be said for German engineering, even in dire circumstances like this. Caesar fell over Murphy’s body with a soft thud. His death was instantaneous.

Denton moved closer to exam his shot. Satisfied with his marksmanship, he pulled a thick gray handkerchief from his pocket and knelt down beside Murphy. His friend’s eyes searched the dark for answers.

“Denton?” Murphy gurgled. “Help me.”

Placing the rag over his friend’s face, Denton finally spoke.

“Don’t worry, Murph. Everything is going to work out.”

—7—

Don’t Forget to Visit the Gift Shop

Creeper Land was everything Libby dreamed it would be. Well, not the good dreams. It was like someone ripped it straight from her nightmares and trapped her deep in its belly. She’d been cold before, like the time she stayed outside sled riding too long and had to sit in front of the fireplace for an hour to get warm. This was ten times worse. She didn’t know if there was enough fire in the whole world to warm her up. It felt like her bones were made of ice.

She wiped the tears from her eyes with her blood-stained dress, and sat down on a nest of twigs and moss that had been her bed for the last two nights. It was the only thing she had to keep her off the hard cement floor.

A gunshot rang out from somewhere above her, and Libby jumped up. She scrambled to the far end of the room and huddled in the corner, stroking the block wall. She missed her life, her cartoons, her in-between meal snacks, and more than anything else, she missed her mom.

A shadow crept by the small room’s only door. It was one of them, the creepers. Libby knew it. Where it was going, she didn’t know. They came to visit her at least a couple times a day. Maybe the gun scared it off. Maybe it wasn’t coming back. Maybe somebody was there to save her, just like in the cartoons. The door would swing open and a brave knight would be standing there, waiting to take her home.

She watched the door, waiting to hear someone call her name. A policeman? A firefighter? Her mom?

All she heard was silence. No footsteps. No prince.

When she first told her mom about the creepers, the shadows that came to life at night and hid under her bed. Her mother told her they weren’t real. They were something she dreamed up after watching too much television. She blamed it on one too many scary movies over at Aunt Jenny’s during a sleep over, and an overactive imagination.

Her mom lied.

She stared at the rotting pile of meat in the corner of the room. The smell stung her nose. She tried not to think about it, but it was always there, reminding her of something dead. She used some of the twigs and dirt from her bed to cover the bloody mess, but the smell was too strong. If she got too close, she’d throw up and have to smell that too.

Maybe there was someone out there. They just didn’t know where she was. She needed to tell them where to look.

“Hello?”

Her throat was sore from all the screaming she’d already done. Her voice sounded like a stranger, someone she saw on one of the TV shows her mom told her not to watch. There was no one to hear her in creeper land, no one except the monsters.

She groped around in the dark for the metal dish beside her bed. Wrapping her fingers around the lip, Libby closed her eyes and gingerly sipped the water inside. If she looked into the pan, she could see little things floating around inside, and she couldn’t bring herself to take a drink. Instead, she pretended it was a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade in one of those glasses with the sun painted brightly on the side that he mother kept on the second shelf of the cupboard back home. Maybe a drink would help her voice, and she could try to yell for help.

She froze, the cup still at her lips. Something ran passed her door again, its paws thumping against the cement floor. As quietly as she could, Libby set the dish down. She crawled into her crude nest, curling herself into as small of a ball as she could. Trying to make herself invisible, she clutched what was left of her doll, Miss Sally, and watched the door. Listening.

She heard everything in creeper land, every crack and creak, every scratch and drag. She’d learned a lot about them.

They liked to run around in the halls and growl at pretty much everything. That first day, when they took her, they growled and fought for what Libby felt like was an hour. Biting and tearing into the other, whining in pain, and then attacking again. She figured they were fighting over her, that she was the prize. Ever since then, she’d lost track of time. She had no idea if it was day or night anymore.

She heard one of them coming closer. It sounded like Aunt Jenny’s golden retriever plodding across the kitchen floor, the pads on his feet softly thumping against the wood. She could only hope it was Maxx. He made her feel safe, protected.

It stopped at the door. She could hear it sniffing around the edges. The metal hatch on the door released, and Libby let out a small involuntary whimper. A pair or red eyes stared at her from the door, the same eyes that haunted what little sleep she’d had. The light from the hallway outside silhouetted the creeper’s lanky frame. Its arms drug almost down to its knees, and it was covered in matted dark fur. Libby saw the pointed ears jutting from its head. She reached her hand out.

“Doggy?” she whimpered.

It growled at her and moved closer in the room. Libby pulled her arm back and held it against her chest. She could see the rows of crooked teeth, slobber dangling from its jaw as it inched closer to her.

The creeper dragged something behind it as it crossed the room. She could see the wet stream of blood trailing behind whatever is was. Maybe they were tired of her in Creeper Land and were going to replace her. She thought about running for the door, but she had no idea where she was or how to escape, and the creeper would be on her in three jumps.

Instead, Libby sat and watched the creeper lift the dead rabbit off the floor and dangle it in front of her. She covered her mouth when it used one of its claws to rip into the bunny’s fur, separating the skin from the flesh. It dropped the bloodied carcass at Libby’s feet and crouched down on all fours, watching the little girl.

Libby mustered what little voice she had left.

“Please, Mr. Creeper, let me go.”

In reply, the beast sniffed the ground around her. Concealed by the shadows, it was inches from her face. Libby couldn’t keep her body from shaking as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Eat,” it growled.

Libby could smell the creeper’s breath when it spoke. It pushed the dead rabbit closer to her before moving back to the hall, watching her from the door.

They sat there in mutual silence. Libby’s tear-stained eyes locked on the Creeper’s glowing red orbs. There was no escape from Creeper Land. Libby had figured that out. She was going to die in that dark little room, and no one would ever know what happened to her, no one except the creepers.

Satisfied with the staring contest, the creeper finally shut the door. Libby heard the latch fall into place, and her world was nothing but dark again.

—8—

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

“I think she stood you up.”

Wilson sat on an empty whiskey box in the alley behind Charlie’s Corner Bar whistling the theme music from one of his favorite 80’s television sitcoms. They’d been there for over twenty minutes. Effin had texted Elle a half-dozen times with the same basic message saying they were there and waiting for her behind the bar… just like she asked.

“She told me she was working and to meet her at the back door when we got here,” Effin kicked a bottle on the ground before looking at his phone again. “Maybe she went on break.”

“She’d still get her texts,” Wilson countered.

“True, but—”

The back door cracked open, and Effin fell silent. He stepped behind the dumpster. He didn’t really know why, but it felt like the right thing to do. Maybe about all these years, he figured proceed with caution wasn’t the worst life motto to run with. The alley was quiet.

“I’m just doing a quick trash run,” the girl’s voice called out from inside the bar.

She stepped outside, trash bag in hand. Her hair was pulled back behind her head. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt, looking around the alley before heading over towards the dumpster.

It had been fifteen years since Effin saw her, really saw her. Sure, he’d creeped her social media pages over the years and instantly knew the girl walking towards him was his Elle, the same one from the photos, but to truly see someone who had been out of your life for so long, it still took a moment to register.

She lifted the lid of the dumpster and tossed the bag inside. She looked around again before heading back towards the door.

“Effin?”

“Elle.”

She jumped in the air and grabbed her chest, turning back towards the dumpster.

“Effin? What are you?”

Stepping out from behind the metal garbage container, Effin sheepishly waved at her. Not quite how he envisioned their reunion to play out. In his head, there were rose petals lining the ground, a three-piece band in the corner singing something in Italian, and a generous amount of doves released just as she raced to him, spouting her unrequited love. Scaring the shit out of her behind Charlie’s Corner Bar from the cover of the dumpster never made it into one of his scenarios.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Elle took a step towards him, but paused.

“Why were you hiding behind the dumpster?”

“I didn’t know who was coming out. You never responded to my texts,” he fumbled. “I’ve been standing back here… by myself for like twenty minutes. It’s kind of… spooky.”

“Spooky?  Rut, ro, raggy.” Elle pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Yeah, well, things got a little… complicated inside. I needed to wait for a reason to come back here without being asked a hundred questions.”

“Holy shit balls!” Wilson jumped up from his wooden perch. “Your HeadRoom pictures aren’t doing you any justice, Elle. You turned into one seriously hot senorita! Aye yi yi!”

Effin glared at him.

“It’s good to see you again,” Effin said. In Wilson’s own blunt force way, he was right. She was even more beautiful than he remembered her. Her red hair and freckled cheeks always brought a warm rush to his face when he was ten, and that apparently hadn’t changed.

“Are you okay,” she asked. “You look flush.”

“Oh… she so busted you!” Wilson clapped his hands in delight. “You look like such a dweeb.”

“Shuddup,” Effin grumbled under his breath.

“What?” Elle asked, looking back to make sure the bar door was still open.

Effin learned long ago to ignore his friend’s comments. He couldn’t believe he just sucked him into that. Maybe it was the rush of emotions he was feeling. Stupid.

“I said, what’s up?” It was the best he could come up with. “Why didn’t you want us…me to come into the bar?” Great, he was slipping into full-on spaz mode.

It was Elle’s turn to look a little flustered. She pushed the bar door closed and stepped away.

“I kind of told someone you were coming back to town,” Elle said. “It’s caused a bit of an uproar in the bar. I figured it would be better to meet out here.”

“Yeah, we talked about that,” Effin said. “I didn’t really want anyone else to know I was coming back, at least not at first.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, putting her palms in the air. “It just kind of came out. I mean, Floyd was right there, and I felt he needed to know, but then someone overheard us…”

“Floyd?” Effin asked. Man, he hadn’t thought about him in years. He’s been in town for less than an hour, and counting his run-in with Trip, he pretty much had already accounted for every best friend he had. After everything that happened back then, Floyd kind of just disappeared, like he faded into the background, and let life swallow him whole.

“How’s he doing? I always wondered if he made anything of himself?” Effin asked.

“He’s the town drunk,” Elle shot back, maybe a little more blatantly that Effin was ready for.

“Oh. Umm… okay then.”

“Not really a lot of pre-career courses that help get you ready for that, I’d guess?” Wilson asked, standing next to Effin. “Something online, maybe?”

Effin moved towards the door. “Maybe we should go in, and at least say hello?”

Elle cut him off. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not really an Effin-friendly environment in there right now.”

“Effin-friendly,” Wilson laughed. “Looks and laughs. This girl’s got it all.”

“Why? What are they saying?” Effin could guess most of it.

Elle did her best angry-drunk impression. “Oh… you know, what’s he coming back here for? Why now? You know a little girl went missing a few days ago out by… that place?”

“Yeah. I heard about the girl,” Effin said.

“I’m glad to see you, Effin. Really. I am. But what are you doing back here, especially now?”

He probably would have gotten mad if anyone else asked him that, but it was a fair question, and he saw the genuine concern in Elle’s eyes.

“I saw the news about the missing girl. I figured maybe I could help.” Effin looked down at the ground. “You know, maybe right a few wrongs in my own past? Change the way people think about me.”

“People have a hard time forgetting, Effin, especially around here.”

She lifted his chin up to meet her stare. He looked up into her eyes, those same eyes he fell in love with as a boy.

“I think it’s nice that you want to help,” she said.

“If you two kiss, I’m going to puke all over your shoes.” Wilson pretended to ram his finger down his throat.

“Thank, Elle. That means a lot.” He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, and he swore he felt Elle’s pulse in her fingertips. He could have stayed there, in the alley, holding hands with her, forever.

The back door swung open.

“You out here, Elle? You been gone an awful long time for just a trash run.”

A man, well more like a man and a half, if you were comparing him to normal people, stepped out into the alley. His stare immediately fixed on Effin. Effin couldn’t look away from the baseball bat the guy gripped. He felt Elle’s hand slip out of his.

“What are you doing back here, Mikey?” Elle asked, stepping between him and Effin.

“Oh, snap,” Wilson chimed. “Things just got real. Elle didn’t have an older Sasquatch-like brother, did she?”

“I just wanted to come check on you.” Mikey pointed the end of the bat at Effin. “Is that who I think it is?”

“I’m fine, Mikey.” Elle touched the big man’s arm. “Go back in and pour yourself a fresh beer. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“You go a lot a nerve showing your freak face around here,” Mikey said, stepping closer to Effin.

“Why wouldn’t I come back? I didn’t do anything wrong in the first place.” Effin’s blood was pumping again, but for a whole different reason.

When he left town, everyone figured he was guilty of something, or he wouldn’t have gone. He knew the rumors that were floating around before he left. He was a killer. He was psycho. Somebody needed to put him in an institution.

“Not the way they tell it around here, boy.” Mikey puffed out his chest and stepped into Effin’s personal space.

The guy had him by at least six inches. Effin could smell the alcohol fueled anger on his face.

“You got this, Effin.” Wilson stood behind him, whispering in his ear. “Use the high ball / low ball technique on him, eyes and junk. He’ll never know what hit him.”

“Sounds like they tell it wrong then.” Effin prodded out his own chest. “I’m just trying to help find a little girl. You got a problem with that?”

“Come on, guys.” Elle tried to pull Mikey away.

“I’ve got a big problem with that,” Mikey growled. “The last thing anybody around here needs is help from the likes of you.”

“Strike! Poke this dillwad’s cornea straight out of the back of his head.” Wilson yelled, his hands poised to attack.

“The likes of me?” Effin felt the pressure building in the base of his skull. His hand started twitching at his side.

“Make a move, asshole.” Mikey slid the end of the bat up Effin’s chest, stopping under his chin.

Effin’s world went red. In a flash, he grabbed the bat. They struggled for control of it. Mikey had the definite size advantage and used his leverage to give Effin a quick shot in the ribs. Effin felt the wind rush out of his lungs, but he tightened his grip and twisted the makeshift club away from the big man, striking him in the face in the process.

“Stop!” Elle yelled. She grabbed Mikey’s arm, but he shrugged her off. She ran back inside the bar.

Blood trickled down Mikey’s lip. He smiled as he wiped it away. “Cute move.”

Wilson jumped up and down. “Kick his ass, Effin. Swing batta’, batta’, batta’.”

Effin’s ribs were on fire, and he still couldn’t catch a full breath, but when he saw the guy reach behind his back into his waistband, he knew he didn’t have time to wait. Pouncing forward and holding the bat on either end, Effin forced the hulk of a man back across the alley. He tripped on a trash bag, and they both crashed into a wall of empty liquor boxes in the corner. The bat tumbled out of his hands.

He saw the flash of the metal blade in Mikey’s hand. He grabbed the man’s wrist and tried to force his arm to the ground, but he was too strong. His other hand found Effin’s neck. His fingers, like five tiny vices, squeezed into Effin’s jugular. The knife cut through Effin’s shirt and a shot of pain seared across his shoulder.

“You’re gonna bleed like you made that Beaumont boy,” Mikey forced the blade higher, towards Effin’s neck.

“You redneck, son of a bitch!” Wilson swung his fists wildly behind the big man, each intended head blow passing straight through him.

Effin could feel the world around him blurring and dark spots creeping in from the corner of his eyes. The knife was right under his ear. His neck felt like it was crushing shut. Using his free hand, he groped the alley floor, looking for anything to use as a weapon. His fingers closed around a discarded beer bottle.

“Don’t talk about my friend,” Effin hissed.

Drawing the last of his strength, he slammed the empty bottle down across the bridge of Mikey’s nose, shattering both glass and bone. The pressure on Effin’s neck released, and he heard the knife clank against the cement. Mikey fell over like the proverbial ton of bricks, crashing hard against the ground. The first gulp of air felt like Effin’s throat was full of razor blades. He could feel the blood running down his arm.

Climbing on top of the mountain of a man, Effin pressed the broken bottle against his neck.

“Oh, hell, yeah. Say hello to my little friend, you piece of shit.” Wilson was on the ground beside the two of them like he was refereeing a wrestling match. “Finish him, Effin-san.”

The retort of the gun shot froze Effin in place. In the small confines of the alley, with walls on either side of them, it sounded like a canon going off. Effin figured one of Mikey’s friends came out when they heard the noise, and his head was in the middle of the guy’s sights. He didn’t have the strength to fight his way out of this one.

“What the hell is going on back here?”

If he hadn’t just spoken with him, Effin probably wouldn’t have recognized the voice. He pulled the bottle away from Mikey’s neck and let it drop to his side.

“Someone decided to throw me a welcome home party,” Effin said.

Rolling off the drunken giant, he saw Trip standing in the bar doorway, a shotgun pointed directly at him. The pain in his shoulder stung even worse when he put pressure on it. He figured if he moved away from Mikey, Trip would lower the gun. He was wrong. It’s hard to describe the feeling of having a gun aimed at you. He’d like to say that was the first time, but he’d be lying. It didn’t get any easier.

“You looking to shoot me, Trip?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you’ve been in town for less than an hour, and I’m already weighing that option.”

Trip lowered the shotgun, but Effin noticed his finger stayed next to the trigger. Elle ran out into the alley from the bar and stood in between them. She looked at Effin’s bleeding shoulder and Mikey on the ground mumbling something about serial killers.

“Mike Jenkins started all this. Effin just stopped to see me because I asked him to.”

She helped Effin up and did a quick exam of his arm.

“You’re going to need a stitch or two,” she said. “I have a kit in the bar.”

“Don’t worry, he’s ok, Elle,” Wilson added. He was standing behind Trip with his hands on his hips in his best authoritative stance. “’Tis but a flesh wound.”

“Thanks, Elle,” he grinned. “I guess bartending requires a skill set beyond just pouring drafts.”

“You have no idea,” she smiled back.

“Are you two done?” Trip asked, placing his gun down next to a couple boxes.

“Sorry, sheriff,” Elle smirked at him before looking back at Effin. “I think we disrespected his authority.”

They both busted out laughing. Effin felt bad, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m guessing you don’t want to press charges, street fighter?” Trip asked.

“Not hardly,” Effin said. “As long as sling blade over there doesn’t press any.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Trip bent down and cuffed Mikey’s hands behind his back. “I’ll get him home after we stop at the hospital to make sure nothings broken.”

“Thanks, Trip.” Effin winced as Elle pulled his shirt away from the wound. “I’m not here to start any trouble.”

Hoisting the big man off the ground, Trip helped him down the alley.

“Okay, then prove it. We’re forming another search party to search for the missing girl tomorrow morning out at the Farm. We can use all the help we can get.”

Effin glanced at Elle. “You going?”

“Yeah, I’m already signed up.”

“I’ll see you in the morning then,” Effin waved to Trip as he made his way back out to the street. He asked Elle, “Do you think me showing up there is a good idea?”

“Probably not,” she said. “But you’ve got nowhere to go from here but up.”

“Oh, don’t underestimate our boy, Elle. He’s full of surprises,” Wilson added.

—9—

His milkshake brings all the ghosts
to the yard

“Chicks dig scars, you know,” Elle smiled.

“It still hurts. Are you sure it won’t get infected?” Effin asked, admiring Elle’s stitch work.

“Oh, come on. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as it looked. I probably didn’t even need to stitch it.”

“He’s always had a low tolerance for pain, Elle.” Winston sat next to Effin, on the opposite side of a small booth from Elle. They were inside an old diner. He looked over at Effin’s open menu. “Man, I miss food.”

“I wasn’t expecting a knife fight as soon as I hit town,” Effin said. “But, thanks.”

The diner was quiet. Only a handful of people were there, an old man sat in the booth next to them, and a couple of regulars at the counter. Elle didn’t want to bring the drama into the bar, so after a quick back room patch job on his shoulder, she suggested they grab something to eat at Alice’s. Effin remembered going there on the weekends with his dad. They had the best milkshakes in town.

“So, you’re really coming up to the Farm tomorrow?” Elle asked, for about the fifth time since Trip invited him.

“Helping to find this little girl is the whole reason I came back,” he answered. “Well, mostly.”

“And what was the other reason?” Emi looked up from her menu.

“What can I get for you kids?”

Thank God for small interruptions. Miss Alice stood next to their table, her graying hair in a bun, held in place with bobby pins. He couldn’t believe it. She looked just like he remembered, right down to her warm small-town smile.

“Hi Miss Alice, where’s all your help?” Elle asked.

“Bowling. League finals,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Well I hope they at least bring you back a trophy,” Elle said.

“They’d better. I don’t buy them the shirts for my health.” Miss Alice looked over at Effin. “And who’s this?”

Elle looked at Effin first, who gave a small nod of approval. After his run in with Trip and the mad slasher behind the bar, the whole town would know he was back soon enough.

“You don’t remember this guy?” Elle raised her eyebrows.

Miss Alice stepped back and took her time looking Effin over. She stopped at his eyes and stared deep into them. He couldn’t look away. He saw the blur of emotion in her own eyes, the confusion, recognition, and then the pain. He didn’t know how to explain it, but it felt as if she was looking straight through him. When she glanced beside him, directly at Wilson, Effin felt a shiver work up his back.

“Did she just, you know, look at me?” Wilson asked.

Miss Alice smiled and straightened out her apron.

“How could I forget one of my best customers? Little Ozzy Jones. Strawberry banana milkshake? Right?”

The man in the booth behind Elle turned at the mention of Effin’s name.

He couldn’t believe she actually remembered. “I’ve never had one as good since.”

“Then I’ll make this one extra special. What brings you back around these parts?” she asked.

“Let’s just call it unfinished business,” he said, not meaning for it to sound as ominous as it did.

“Fair enough then,” Alice slipped her pad back into her apron. “I’ll be right back with a couple shakes.”

Wilson called to her as she headed behind the counter. “That’s okay, Miss Alice. I wasn’t really hungry anyway.”

“So, I have you set up in an apartment above the bar,” Elle said. “There’s a separate entrance, so nobody should bother you. Here’s the key.”

She slid it across the table and their hands touched. Effin froze. He was ten years old again, sitting in the booth with his dad, sipping one of Alice’s famous milkshakes, when Elle walked in the diner. Long strawberry hair down to her shoulders, a patterned dress to her knees, she was with her mother and caught him staring when she passed the jukebox. She was the prettiest girl he had even seen in his whole decade of existence. No magazines, no movies, no anything, held a candle to her. When she smiled at him, he felt it in his stomach, and he knew right then, there was no turning back.

“Effin? Can I have my hand back?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry. It’s just so weird being back here. A lot of memories to catch up on, you know.”

There was a time he thought the two of them would never leave each other’s side. It was stronger than love. He knew he was too young to really know what that was. It was more friendship, to find someone in the world that truly got you.

“Well, that was awkward,” Wilson said. “I thought you were going to drop to one knee and start singing.”

“Anyway, there’s the key. We’re meeting at the fire hall at seven in the morning. Do you think you’ll make it that early?” she asked.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll set an alarm. I’m a pretty light sleeper,” he said. He didn’t figure on getting any sleep at all being back in town. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept the entire night.

Wilson stood up on the seat across from Effin. He started singing in the deepest baritone he could muster.

“You… light up my life…”

Effin shot him a look, to which Wilson responded with another chorus.

“You make me happy… each night and day.”

Alice came back with their drinks.

“Thanks, Alice,” Elle said.

“You’re welcome, honey.” She looked at Effin. “I hope it’s as good as you remember.”

“Thanks. I’m sure it is.”

“You know, I don’t even know anything about you since you left,” Elle said. “Are you some kind of artist?”

She pointed to the satchel wedged on the seat next to him. He looked down at his bag. He checked the zipper to make sure it was shut before he grabbed it out of his truck on the way over.

“That? No, not really. I… doodle. I guess you can say.”

He thought about leaving his sketch pad behind in the truck, but he felt better keeping it close to keep an eye on his secrets. One of the few jobs he managed to hold down for over a month was at a telemarketing firm back in Philly. One day, during lunch, he left his bag open at his cubicle. One of his co-workers looked inside and shared it around the office. He was let go within the week, not to mention the police detective they contacted to interrogate him.

“Cool. Can I see some of your work?” Elle asked.

Oh, boy. She wasn’t letting this go.

“Sure, just let me just find a good one here. Oh! You’ll appreciate this one. I call it dead girl in the woods,” Wilson pretended to show her the image.

“My stuff’s kind of different. Therapeutic, maybe?” Great, she’ll think I’m in therapy. Smooth word choice, Effin.

“You can show me later. I know how touchy you artistic types are,” she smiled.

“Lady, you don’t know the half of it,” Wilson added.

“Later, definitely,” Effin said. “I really keep mostly to myself. My Aunt Gertie left me her house, and I scrape up a few odd jobs to pay the bills.”

“Oh, that’s right. I heard about your aunt. I’m so sorry. What a horrible way to go.” Elle’s eyes teared up a little.

“It’s okay,” he said. “She was a good woman. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

“Ummmm, the funny farm,” Wilson said.

Effin moved in with his aunt, the only relative that would take him in after his incident back in Rumors Mill. His dad, who wasn’t around all that much before, used the event as a reason to divorce his mom. He picked up with some woman from Ohio and never really looked back. He’d lost track of him years ago. His mom couldn’t handle the stress of a divorce and the whole town thinking her son was a murderer. She had a mental breakdown right after his dad took off. They put her in a mental hospital upstate, and she’s slowly gotten worse since. The last time Effin visited, which was almost two years ago, she didn’t even know his name.

His Aunt Gertie, on the other hand, was a strong woman. She never allowed him to pity himself for what happened. She’d lost her own husband in a construction accident two years after they were married. The never had the chance to have children of their own. She made sure Effin went to school, studied as much as she could make him, took him to his therapy sessions, and for the most part, lead as normal of a life as he could. He still remembered the morning he woke up to see the picture Lefty had left on his sketch pad. He’d gotten used to a lot of strange pictures over the years, but the sight of his aunt being crushed by a bus, well, he wasn’t ready for that. When she actually got killed by one two days later, it damn near broke him.

“Earth to Effin. I repeat, Earth calling Effin,” Elle waved her hands in front of Effin’s face. “You’re like in a whole other time zone.”

“Sorry, Elle. Guess I got a little lost in my thoughts,” he said.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to zone out, but being back home was really doing a number on him. He needed to pull it together, or the only relationship he’d have with Elle was posting the occasional like on her HeadRoom page.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I can tell it still really bothers you.”

“What about you?” Effin asked. “What have you been doing all this time?”

Then it was Elle’s turn to wear the uncomfortable hat. She twirled her straw around in her drink a few times before she answered.

“Well, after you left, I really kind of stayed to myself. I mean, when something like that happens, it kind of puts a dent in your childhood,” she said.

“A dent? You mean a crater the size of Rhode Island,” Wilson threw his hands in the air.

“I finished school. Trip and Floyd didn’t really talk to me much anymore. I thought about going away to college. I even got accepted at a couple, but the money just wasn’t there, you know. I wasn’t an athlete or a genius, and my mom and dad were barely getting by with what they made at the paper mill, so I stayed. I tried taking some classes at R.M.C.C. for a couple semesters, but it didn’t really pan out.” Emi looked out the window, like she was still searching for something out there.

He knew all too well how that day changed his life, but he never really considered how much it affected everyone else around him.

“No boyfriends? No husbands?” Effin asked. He’d been waiting to ask since back behind Charlie’s Bar. It didn’t seem a like a real proper post-knife fight kind of thing to ask.

“No baby’s daddies?” Wilson added.

“No. I mean, I’ve had a couple boyfriends in high school and a few since, but they’ve never amounted to much. I don’t know, maybe it’s me, but there’s always been something… lacking.” Elle shrugged, not seeming to find the right word she wanted. “Remember Ned from school?”

“Nostrils-Ned?” Wilson’s face lit up. “You could hear an echo in those things.”

“Yeah, I remember him,” Effin said, trying not to look at Wilson who was spreading his own nostrils apart with his fingers.

“We had a thing for a while, but he left for the military,” she said.

“Did they want to hide tanks up his nose?” Wilson stared straight into Effin’s face with his nostrils spread wide.

“I can’t believe it,” Effin said. “But you’re so…”

“So… what?” Elle’s face brightened.

“Yeah, so what, smooth operator,” Wilson chimed in, nostrils still flaring.

“So… nice,” Effin said. Perfect. Fifteen years in the making, and all he could come up with was that. The weather was nice. Opening a door for someone was nice. Hell, donating to charity was nice! This was the one chance to tell the girl of his dreams how he felt, that he’d pined for all these years, and he called her… nice. Why didn’t he just tell her she looked sort of OK, and be done with it. Pathetic.

“Umm… thank you.” She smiled.

“Chicken shit,” Wilson mimicked her smile.

“Look, I’d better get back over to the bar. I told them I wouldn’t be gone that long,” Elle said. “Are you sure you’re okay with the apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s great. I appreciate you hooking me up,” Effin said.

“I’d let you crash at my place, but it’s really only a one bedroom and kind of a mess right now.”

“One bed is all we would need,” Wilson said. “My little honey bee.”

“No. No way. I’d never impose on you like that,” Effin said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh, I would definitely impose on you,” Wilson pressed.

“Okay, you have my number if you need anything. My shift’s not over until midnight, but I’ll be over to pick you up in the morning.” She patted his hand as she got up from the booth. “It was really nice seeing you again, Effin.”

“Yeah, I really missed you… I mean seeing you,” he said.

Elle stopped again at the door and waved. His heart skipped a beat.

She called back to the kitchen before she left, “Alice, I need to get back to work. Take care of Effin for me.”

“He’s in good hands, honey. Don’t you worry,” Alice answered.

And just like that, she was gone from his life again.

“Hey! Maybe you’ll get a booty call tonight,” Wilson said.

“Would you shut up,” Effin said under his breath.

“Knock knock.” Wilson grinned.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Knock knock!” Wilson persisted.

Effin knew he’d never let it go unless he played along.

“Who’s there?”

“Ivana.”

“Really?” Effin sighed. “Ivana who?”

“Ivana who’s knocking at my door!”

Effin hid his face in his hands. “Of all the ghost friends in all the world.”

“Knock knock.”

“Enough!” Effin yelled, louder than he intended.

He glanced at the counter and caught the old man sitting there staring at him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean you, I was talking to…” Effin stumbled. “Nevermind.”

—10—

Postcards from the Fuhrer

Why would the Jones boy be back in town? This changed everything.

Dr. Callus caught himself staring at the boy and girl talking in a nearby booth. He turned around to face the kitchen.

Jones hadn’t been around for years. A young girl goes missing, and he decides to come back to town. All he was doing was bringing even more attention to an already tense situation. The probability of a positive outcome was declining with each passing hour.

Dr. Callus finished up his toast, washing it down with a warm glass of milk. It was one of the few joys he still took in life. He pretended to read the front page of the newspaper on the counter, but he leaned toward Jones and his female companion. His hearing wasn’t what it used to be, and he could only make out parts of the conversation. The girl said something about meeting Jones in the morning up at the old laboratory before she got up and left. This was getting worse by the minute. They had no business going up there, missing girl or not.

The doctor paused. What was Jones talking about now? What did any of this have to do with a child’s booty?

“Enough!”

The doctor jolted in his chair. He looked over at the boy.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean you, I was talking to…” The boy stumbled with his words. “Nevermind.”

The girl was nowhere in sight. The Jones boy didn’t have one of those portable phones everyone carried those days. Who had he been talking to? Maybe the boy was as mad as they all thought him to be? They called the doctor a crazy old man, but what harm could he cause. It was people like Jones they should be afraid of.

Dropping some money on the table, he shuffled out his seat, scooping up the Styrofoam containers with a piece of pumpkin pie for desert and scrambled eggs for the morning. He couldn’t help but stare as he passed. Jones didn’t strike him as anything unusual, a typical twenty-something still struggling between the child and settling into adulthood. He knew the stories surrounding the lad, the awful things they said. He could almost see the storm of emotion raging behind the boy’s eyes as he looked up at him as he passed. That’s when a thought struck him. Maybe the boy’s return could actually benefit his plan. It could be the silver lining he was hoping for.

“Can I help you,” Effin asked.

“Nein, nein,” the doctor answered. He had paused longer at the table longer than he thought. “I’m fine. Just an old man lost in thought.” He tipped his hat to the boy. “Gute nacht.”

“Good night,” Effin nodded back.

“You take care of yourself, doc,” Alice yelled from the kitchen. “It’s chilly out there.”

Waving his hat to her, he made it to the door. She was right. The winds had picked up, and he felt the cool breeze running down his neck. He pulled his collar tight. The temperature had never bothered him before, back when he was a young man working at the laboratory outside of town. The wind was merely a nuisance then, a detail. Now, even the slightest changes, and he felt every degree.

His van was parked across the street from the diner. Everyone laughed at him for driving such a monstrosity for the little man he was. He could see the smiles on their faces as he drove through town, but he always preached functionality over fashion. His father taught him that back in Germany when he was still a boy. That seemed like so many lifetimes ago. The driver’s side door stuck slightly. He pulled with what little weight he had to force it open.

Instead of leaving, he sat there, watching the front of the diner. The Jones boy walked outside moments after he did. He waved to Alice before walked around the back of the building and disappeared into the night. The doctor could only wonder where he was going. He pulled a photo from the van’s visor, smiling at the image of his wife and daughter. They were planting tulips in the front yard, their hands covered in the rich black sod. Margaret and little Anna were his world, his promise of a better life come true, far from his own bleak childhood in the little shanty town outside of Frankfurt.

Returning the photo, the doctor placed the Styrofoam containers on the console between the seats. He put the van into gear and jerked forward. The containers flew off their perch and bounced into the back of the van.

“Der Scheib.”

Throwing it in park, the doctor got out and walked to the back of the van. Looking around the abandoned streets, he opened one of the bay doors and climbed inside. The spilled yellow eggs were scattered across the floor. He scooped some into his hand, placing them back into the container. Gathering up what he could find, he sat down and began to sob. He looked at the metallic rings bolted into the van’s floor, and the chains attached to each of them. Running his hand down the plywood walls, his fingers felt the deep scratches carved into the wood. Even after all the cleanings, he could still see the faint traces of blood in the fibers.

“Mein Gott, this has got to stop,” he said, the tears flowing down his cheeks.

He sat there, in the back of an old van, on a street in a town that had all but forgotten him, in a world that he didn’t recognize any more. It scared him that the last traces of his life, the sole vestige of what was and should have been, may soon be gone to him, leaving him alone and afraid in a world that didn’t care who lived or died. He’d grown tired of this twisted game of hide and seek. He could feel the end game approaching.

—11—

A Mid-Summer Night’s Scream

“I guess room service is out of the question.”

Wilson plopped down on the small double bed.

The floral print sheets looked fresh, even though the pattern seemed a little dated. Besides the bed, a lone recliner sat in the corner, and an old styled big box TV on a stand that looked questionable to support its weight. The cable from behind the TV ran along the floor and out the only window. Effin figured there was a splitter somewhere below. Not exactly stealing cable, more like sharing with privileges.

He tossed his overnight bag on the bed beside Wilson.

“Bed’s mine.” Effin pointed to the chair. “You can post up over there.”

He realized Wilson took up no real room, but the thought of sleeping shoulder to shoulder with the ghost of his best friend had years of therapy written all over it. Back at his apartment, Wilson set up shop on the couch in his living room. He could handle the chair for a few nights.

“What about my lower back?” Wilson huffed as he checked out his new accommodations. “You know how tender it is.”

“There’s always the floor.” Effin pointed to a spot near the bathroom.

“Wow. Just wow, Effin. And maybe before bed you can take me for a walk, and I can find a nice bush to take a dump behind.”

“Come on, Wilson. Give me a break.” Effin flopped down on the bed. “It’s been a rough day.”

Wilson settled into the recliner, moving around a bit, before finding his sweet spot.

“As always, I’ll make do,” he said. “Elle seemed a little tense tonight. Do you think she was glad to see us?”

Effin’s head sunk into the pillow. He suddenly realized just how tired he was. Between the drive in, the unexpected knife fight, and the emotional baggage of seeing the girl he always expected to marry, all in the course of eight hours, he was beat. The last thing he needed was a round of mental mini-golf with Wilson.

“I don’t know, man. I’m sure she’s trying to get a feel for me… us,” Effin corrected. “I mean, I just kind of popped back into her life. She doesn’t know me. She knows the little boy that used to chase her around the playground at school and pass notes in study hall. I may as well be a total stranger to her now.”

“Give her some time,” Wilson said. “She’ll realize you’re still the same guy she knew. Of course, that guy is a total loser, but lovable all the same.”

Effin threw his spare pillow at him, catching Wilson square in the face, and then passing straight through him.

“I can always count on you for moral support,” Effin grunted.

“Effin, Elle, and me, all back together again. Who’d have thought it?”

“Certainly not me.” Effin closed his eyes.

“Effin… Elle. Effin… Elle. Hey, it sounds like bad British cursing. I can’t believe I just made that connection.” Wilson sounded proud of his literary discovery.

“That’s great, Wilson,” Effin mumbled.

“Oi! Effen-‘ell, how about we watch some tube?”

“I’m beat, bud. Elle’s picking us up early to head up to the Farm. We should get some rest.”

“I can’t sleep the first night in a strange place,” Wilson said. “Be a pal and click the remote. The whole incorporeal thing, you know.”

Effin found the clicker beside the bed and turned on the TV. “What channel?”

“Anything but the news.”

Effin heard a woman talking about hunting Bigfoots in the Colorado woods and figured his friend would be satisfied with that. He closed his eyes as she described the unmistakable stench of Sasquatch dung as he drifted off to sleep.

***

“Come on, Effin. Keep up.”

Floyd waved to him from the top of a small hill.

The day was perfect. Summer vacation was in full swing, the sun was shining down through the trees, and Effin was hanging out with his three best friends. Life just didn’t get any better than this.

“Hold on, guys. I’m coming.”

Effin’s fingers dug into the dirt as he scrambled up the hill behind his friends. They started extra early that morning to get as much work in on the fort as they could before supper. It was almost done. A couple more boards on the roof, and they had to figure out how to keep the door shut, and Fort Awesome was done. They’d worked on it most of the summer.

Cresting the hill, he saw Floyd, Trip, and Wilson waiting for him. It took an easy half an hour by bike to get there. Their parents would probably freak if they knew they were playing in the woods outside the Monkey Farm. The place was like that creepy neighbor in every town that all the grownups told you to stay away from. They knew all the stories, the missing kid, the bear-boy, the men in all black. It only made the place that much more exciting.

“I still don’t know why I can’t be Captain,” Trip said, breaking off a branch and holding it in front of him like a sword.

“We’ve been over this like a million times,” Floyd said. “I’m the Captain, you’re the General, Wilson’s the Major, and Effin’s the Sergeant at Arms.”

“So, who’s the boss?” Wilson kicked the side of a nearby tree, trying to strip the bark off it.

Floyd reached behind his back, pulling something from his waistband. “I am… because I have this.”

Effin had never seen a knife so big, at least not in real life. It looked like something from one of those military movies his dad loved to watch. The blade had to be ten inches long with these cool curved edges on back near the handle.

Floyd looked like he just won the Coolest Kid of the Year award. “But wait, there’s more.”

Unscrewing the cap on the base of the blade, Murphy produced the following items from inside the handle, a compass, some string, and five water proof matches. Quite possibly the greatest weapon since the light saber.

“Where’d you get that?” Trip asked over his shoulder.

“It’s my dad’s,” Floyd admitted.

“Let me see it.” Effin took the knife and held it like a barbarian warrior with both hands wrapped around the handle. Swinging it around, he didn’t realize Wilson was standing behind him.

“Hey! Watch it with that thing,” Wilson cried, jumping back as it swiped no more than an inch from his chest.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, Wilson. I didn’t know you were back there.” Effin tried handing it back to Floyd, but he was already across the small log bridge that led to the fort.

Fort Awesome stood nearly six feet tall, the roof assembled by a bunch of branches and loose limbs they spent three days gathering from the surrounding woods. It fit all four of them semi-comfortably inside. Trip managed to snag his brother’s old foot locker before he left for college, so they even had a space to keep some of their prized possessions–some comics, a few ball cards, three packs of firecrackers, and an old swim suit catalog they found in an alley in town. The door to the fort was a piece of plywood they found half-submerged in the creek. They used an old hatchet from Floyd’s garage to cut it down to size, leaving about a four-inch gap on top that everyone blamed on Wilson’s poor measuring skills.

Floyd was the first one inside, while the rest of the crew navigated the bridge.

“Hey! Someone’s been messing around in here,” he shouted.

Effin ran across the wooden planks, jumping the last couple feet. He still had Floyd’s survival knife in his hand. Shouldering inside with his friends, he saw them all hovering around the foot locker, staring in disbelief.

“They took our stuff,” Trip said.

Pushing his way closer, all Effin saw was half a pack of fire crackers and a comic book ripped in half.

“They took my can of beer,” Floyd cried. He found it empty a couple weeks back and washed it out in the creek. He’d pour soda inside and pretend to knock down a few brewski’s when they held fort meetings.

“My throwing star’s gone.” Effin said. His Dad bought it for him at the local flea market at the beginning of the summer. His dad wasn’t one to buy a lot of gifts. He told him it would help build character.

“Where’s the best beach bods of summer catalog?” The disappointment on Wilson’s face was almost tangible.

“Oh, man, they got that too.” Floyd slammed the lid shut. “Look,” he said, pointing to the corner of the fort.

Effin saw the papered carnage. Someone had ripped Miss Felicia’s head from her body leaving three claws marks all the way from her neck down through her amazing red swimsuit.

“Those savages,” Wilson knelt down beside the magazine page to pay respect to the girl they had all grown to love. “Let’s hope she still makes it through veterinarian school.”

They all collectively fell into a moment of silence.

Something growled outside the cabin, breaking the lull.

“What the hell was that?” Trip asked.

“I don’t know. C’mon, let’s find out,” Floyd said. He grabbed his knife from Effin and took off outside. “You wusses coming?”

Trip followed, pausing at the makeshift door.

“Well?”

Wilson moved toward him, but Effin grabbed his arm.

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea,” Effin said. “I think we should just stay in here.”

“Come on, Effin.” Wilson smiled as he headed out. “There’s four of us. We’ll be fine.”

Effin started after them, but the growl came back, stronger and closer that time. He froze. He could hear something crashing through the branches behind the fort.

“It’s on the move,” Floyd yelled. “Don’t let it get away.”

He heard his friends running, breaking branches as they went. He figured they were chasing a fox or a deer. They’d never catch up to it. Still, that growl unsettled him. He’d never heard anything like it before.

“I think it’s doubling back,” one of the boys shouted.

And then there was only silence. Effin couldn’t hear anyone outside. He couldn’t hear the branches cracking or leaves shuffling, only the still woods surrounding him. He stood there, waiting for someone to come back, to tell him about the chase, what would undoubtedly end up being the size of a grizzly. They’d all laugh about it, and he’d probably get called a chicken for the next month, but at the point, Effin was okay with that. He looked down at the disfigured head of Miss Felicia staring back at him. Rule Six of Fort Awesome–you never left a buddy hanging.

“Guys?” Effin yelled.

He should at least go outside and look for them. His hand touched the plywood door when he heard feet shuffling just outside the fort.

“Floyd? Is that you?” he asked.

Whatever it was, it was moving around the side of the fort. He wished they have put in windows like Trip wanted to. The noise stopped outside the door. Something snarled. It almost sounded like it was trying to speak, but he couldn’t make out the words.

“Real funny guys. Quit messing around,” Effin said.

It scratched at the door. Effin knew a setup when he smelled one, and he wasn’t about to fall for another one of Floyd’s stupid scare pranks. He yanked the door open, his fist raised over his head.

“I’ll knock your teeth so far down…”

Wilson stared at him, the blank look on his face stopped Effin mid-sentence. It was his friend, he knew it was him, but he looked different, older maybe, or maybe just in a way he’d never saw him before.

Then he noticed the blood. He’d never seen so much blood.

Wilson’s shirt was torn to shreds. There were three long deep slash marks across his neck. What was left of his shirt was soaked red, and the bill of his ball cap was almost ripped clean off.

He fell into Effin’s arms. Even though they were pretty much the same size, it felt like his friend weighed a ton. They both fell backwards. Effin’s head slammed into the edge of the foot locker. The inside of the fort started spinning around him. He tried to focus on Wilson, who was lying on top of him.

“Wilson?”

He grabbed his friend’s arm as his vision blurred.

Before it all went black, he heard his friend whisper.

“Don’t let me go. Effin, don’t let me go.”

A shadow filled the doorway, red eyes staring down at him. He could swear it smiled as it dragged his friend back outside. Effin clung to his friend’s arm, but the blood made it too slippery. All he could do was watch as it dragged him away, and Effin’s world turned black.

***

“Wilson!”

Effin bolted up in the bed. His face was drenched with sweat. Looking around, he didn’t recognize anything in the room. His heart felt like it rented its own jackhammer and was trying to break through his chest. He saw his duffle bag in the corner and sighed.

It wasn’t his apartment. He was in a room over Alice’s restaurant back in Rumors Mills. It was just a dream, the same dream he’d had for the last fifteen years. Kicking his feet free from the blankets, he looked around for his sketchpad, wondering if Lefty left him a new gift. He didn’t see any, and an immediate sense of relief swept over him.

He always left his pad and some colored pencils by the bed when he slept. He’d found out the hard way it was easier to have the materials nearby, especially when Lefty felt the mood to draw in red. He’d went through his share of bed sheets over the years.

“Wilson?”

The room was empty. He appreciated the irony of that statement. Sometimes his friend liked to go for walks, especially when they travelled, which wasn’t often. He usually came back with some pretty interesting stories. People tended not to watch what they did or said when a ghost stood next to them.

Effin opened the drapes and looked outside. It was still dark. The streets were barren, not a soul in sight. It was a view he never got from his own apartment. Maybe he was the only man alive. What if the zombie apocalypse finally hit and nobody thought to tell him? Sometimes being alone wasn’t such a bad thing.

Something moved near the back of a van parked across the street. It was probably a cat that had come around to see if Miss Alice threw out any goodies. He waited to see its eyes glowing back at him from the street lamp overhead. Instead the shadow changed course and darted behind a mailbox.

“What the hell?”

The darkness crept over the metal box, like it was trying to consume what was inside. The mass of night pulled itself free, forming into something. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but it perched on top of the mailbox and looked down the empty street like it was searching for something… or someone.

He rubbed his eyes. The thing was staring up at him through the window. He could feel its eyes lock onto his. It felt like his chest was growing tighter with each breath. And then it smiled.

Effin stepped away from the window. He could count each sharpened fang in its mouth as it pounced off the mailbox, racing toward Alice’s diner. He knew he should move, try to get away, but if felt like someone had nailed him to the floor.

He heard scratching, like claws meeting brick, faint at first, but then louder and louder as it climbed closer. The sound bored into his ears. He pressed his hands to his head, dropping to his knees.

“Make it stop!”

Pulling his hands away, he listened, but the night was quiet again. Whatever it was had to be close. It had to be right outside his window. He looked outside and saw the moon swathed with clouds overhead. Slowly standing up, he moved closer to the window and unlocked the latch. He needed to know what was waiting for him out there.

Pushing the window open, he took one last deep breath before leaning outside. He saw the street below him and checked either side of the road before he felt satisfied it was gone. Maybe it was never there at all. A cat hissed near the dumpster below, and he practically fell out the window. Great job, Effin. Come all the way back home only to fall out a window and break your neck.

Something reached down from above him, latching onto his face. It smelled like tar and filled his nostrils, making it hard to breath. He grabbed it by the wrist, struggling to break free. The grip was too strong, like a vice, tearing at his skin. It pulled him farther out the window. He frantically grabbed for something to keep him inside the room.

His feet pulled off of the carpet just as his hand found the edge of the window sill. He struggled to pull himself back inside, but it was too strong. Groping above him, his fingers wrapped around a clump of matted oily hair. He pulled with everything he had as they both toppled back inside the apartment.

He started punching, not even sure at what, landing blow after blow into the black amorphous mass.

“Get off me,” he screamed. “You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight!”

His fists connected again and again, but it just kept coming.

“Effin,” someone yelled.

He was too afraid to let up, or the thing would swallow him whole. He felt his body shaking.

“Effin,” they called again.

His eyes snapped open. He was on the floor, still in the apartment above Alice’s. Something was covering his face. Frantic, he pushed it away and watched it fly across the room and bounce off the wall. Wilson hovered over him, grinning.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Jumping up, Effin stared at the object, lying motionless on the floor.

“Get back, Wilson. I don’t know if it’s still alive,” he said.

“What? The pillow?” Wilson laughed, pointing at it. “No. I think you killed it.”

“The… what?” Effin could see the floral print around the edges of the body pillow. He staggered over, softly kicking it in the side. “But…”

“You just jumped out of bed and started wrestling with it,” Wilson said. “That may have been the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. If there was a guy in the corner playing piano, it would have been perfect.”

“I was fighting the pillow?” Effin shook the cobwebs from his head, realizing just how ridiculous he must have looked.

“I think we can safely say that you kicked that pillow’s ass.”

“Man, it was so real,” Effin said. “I thought something climbed up the wall outside. It was trying to drag me out with it.”

“We’d better cross off late-night milkshakes at Miss Alice’s before bed,” Wilson looked out the window. He stopped beside the edge of the bed and bent down. “Oh, boy.”

“What now?” Effin asked.

“Looks like Lefty left you another drawing.”

“And?”

“Maybe you better just come here and take a look. It’s a doozy.”

—12—

It’s not a man purse!

“Hello? Anyone in there?”

Effin heard the voice outside his door. He needed to get up, it was time. Instead, he covered his head with a pillow and rolled over.

“Hey! My knuckles are getting sore out here!”

Slowly, he rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 6:45. He still had time to hit the snooze button one more time.

“Okay. I’m out of here! I’ll call you later. I guess.”

“Shit.”

Effin jumped out of bed and stumbled towards the door.

“Hold on, Elle. I’m coming,” he mumbled, fumbling with the lock. “I’m sorry. My alarm… didn’t go off.”

Of course, his alarm was Wilson, but he couldn’t tell her that. Another perk to having a ghost for a best friend was not having to invest in an alarm clock. Wilson never slept. Effin could always count on his own personal wakeup call. Of course, of all mornings, that didn’t happen. Freeing the last chain, he cracked the door open enough to see Elle waiting semi-patiently outside.

“You may want to put some pants on, Mr. Cruise,” she snickered.

Effin looked down, realized he was only wearing underwear, and slammed the door in Elle’s face.

“Sorry. Just give me a minute,” Effin apologized through the wood.

“We’re going to be late,” she said.

Effin turned around to see Wilson sitting in the recliner, staring out the window.

He found his pants at the foot of the bed. “Thanks, Wilson. You were supposed to wake me up. What happened?”

His friend just continued staring out the window.

“Wilson. Hey.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if that day never happened?” he finally asked.

“What day?” Effin asked while searching for his other shoe. “Oh, that day. Yeah, we’ve talked about this already.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just being back here and seeing everything. It makes me wonder what kind of life I would have had.” Wilson finally looked away from the window. “Sorry about not waking you up.”

“What did you say?” Elle asked from the hall.

“I need like thirty seconds,” Effin yelled, pulling on his other shoe. “I don’t know, bud. Maybe you would have been mayor, maybe you’d be Floyd’s drinking buddy. All the same, I’m glad we stayed friends.”

“Effin?” Elle tapped on the door.

“Sorry, Wilson. Can we talk about this later?”

Wilson stared at him in reply, and for the first time since he could remember, Effin felt uncomfortable in the same room with his friend. Wilson never asked for this, but then again, neither did he. Still, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Wilson’s smile slowly returned.

“Elle totally saw you in your skivvies,” he said, sneering at him.

“Yeah, I know, I was there.” Effin looked down at his sketchpad. He stuffed it inside his satchel, kicking it under the bed.

“What if Miss Alice comes in while we’re gone to tidy up and finds it?” Wilson asked. “If she sees Lefty’s latest masterpiece, you’re going to be on Rumors Mill’s ten most wanted.”

“Good call.” Effin grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll leave it in the truck.”

Effin flung the door open to the sight of Elle standing in the hall with her arms crossed.

“Ready for the ball, Cinderella?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry. I thought I set my alarm and sleeping in a strange bed and—”

“Ok. I get it. Let’s get moving before they leave us behind,” she said.

At the bottom of the stairs, Effin headed towards his truck, keys in hand. He wanted to stash his satchel before they got moving.

“Where are you going?” Elle asked.

“I just need to throw something in my truck,” he said.

Elle grabbed him by the arm and dragged him the opposite way.

“No time. We’re already late. Just bring it with you,” she said.

“But…”

“No buts. Come on.”

Effin looked at Wilson, who shrugged his shoulders

“Aren’t we taking your car,” Effin asked, hoping he could at least leave it in there.

“The fire station is like a block away,” she said. “We can walk.”

Great. All he wanted to do was put the bag somewhere safe. Why didn’t he just paint a red A on his chest and be done with it? He was already feeling the effects of starting his morning without coffee. He usually had a cup in his hand by then.

“Can we at least stop at Miss Alice’s for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“The Red Cross is already set up in the fire station parking lot. They’ll have some there,” she said, pulling him across the street. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”

“No. It’s not that,” he said. “I’m good. I’ll caffeine up there.”

He was already committed and definitely didn’t want to let Elle down. He saw the flag poles in front of the fire station and the mass of people standing in the parking lot. There had to be close to two hundred people huddled into different groups. A police car was parked out front. Trip was standing on a small wall near the bay doors handing out flyers.

“Her name is Libby June Conners. She’s ten years old, four feet eight inches with shoulder length blond hair. Her picture is on the handout. Make sure you look at it.”

Effin nudged Elle as they crossed the parking lot. “Wow. He’s really taking this sheriff thing seriously isn’t he? He always was a bit of a ham.”

Elle punched him in the arm. “He does a good job. Don’t be a putz.”

Even with the milder than usual temperatures, it was still a cool October morning. Effin was glad he grabbed a sweatshirt. He pointed to a group of decorated wagons in the corner of the parking lot.

“What’s with those?” he asked.

“They’re for the Halloween parade,” Elle answered. “Which has been put on hold with everything going on. No trick-or-treat either.”

“Bummer,” Effin answered. Those were some of his fondest memories of town when he was a kid, hitting the neighborhood with friends, seeing who could fill their bags the most.

Wilson climbed up on the wall beside Trip, mimicking his moves, as the young sheriff belted out orders.

“Know your group number. When we get out to the site, you’ll be formed into search lines based on the areas we have gridded off.” Trip noticed Effin and Elle and waved them over. “When we’re out there, I want to hear everyone yelling this girl’s name. You’re doing nobody any good by being quiet out there.”

“And if you have to pee, save a tree and find a bare spot,” Wilson threw in at the end.

Effin took one of the flyers. He stared at the little girl in the photo. She seemed happy, like any ten-year-old should be.

“Hey, Effin. Glad you could join us this morning. I’d almost given up on you,” Trip said.

“Elle slept in. I had to wait on her.”

“Uh, huh.” Trip looked at Elle. “I have my doubts about that. Did you bring your own lunch with you?”

Effin tucked his satchel under his arm. “Just some personals.”

Trip jumped down and handed the rest of the flyers to a nearby deputy. He nodded towards his police SUV. “You two may as well ride out there with me. We’re almost ready to leave. We already have tents set up at the site.”

Elle pointed at a nearby table. “There’s your coffee, Effin. Grab me a cup too, please.”

Effin poured himself a cup. He really didn’t want one anymore. He was already wide awake at that point, but he felt he pretty much had to at that point. He grabbed a steaming Styrofoam cup for Elle and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She smiled.

His hand wrapped over hers, and they paused.

“Shotgun,” Wilson yelled as they got to Trip’s police cruiser.

Elle got in the front of the SUV after Effin waved his friend out of the way. They both climbed into the back. Trip jumped behind the wheel. There was a transparent partition between the front and back seats. Trip slid open a small window in the middle of it, so they could talk.

“You got enough room back there?” he asked.

“I’m good,” Effin said, settling into the plastic seat. Stuffing his satchel on the floor, he looked around for someplace to put his coffee. “There’s no cup holders back here.”

“They’re not built for comfort, pal.” Trip pulled away from the fire department, leading the line of vehicles that fell in behind them.

“I feel like I’m in a parade,” Wilson said, waving out the window. “We should have brought some candy to throw.”

“So, what did you two get into last night?” Trip asked. “Anymore back alley knife fights?”

“Just some pie over at Miss Alice’s,” Elle said. “We asked, but she didn’t feel like rumbling.”

Elle giggled. Effin watched Trip’s face light up at the sound of her laughter. He glanced at Effin in the mirror and composed himself.

“Oh, snap,” Wilson said. “I think someone else has a crush on your girl?”

“So, Elle says you’re married and have a couple kids?” Effin asked. He didn’t mean to be quite that blunt, but he figured he’d cut off Wilson before he got started. That and he wanted to make Trip squirm a little.

Trip looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I got married right after high school. Grace is five and TJ just turned four.” He dug out his wallet and handed Effin a photo through the partition.

“Trip Jr.?” Wilson’s face lit up. “Tell me he’s not destined for a future in stock car racing.”

Effin stared at the photo. They were having a backyard barbecue. Trip was wearing an apron that said Kiss The Cop. He chuckled and handed it back to him.

“Good looking family.” Effin always felt a little uncomfortable talking about families, probably because his own was so screwed up. He never knew quite what to say. What were you going to do, tell someone their family looked like a bunch of idiots?

Effin hit the button to roll down his window.

“I think your window’s broke,” he said.

“Sorry. It’s built that way,” Trip said. “I’ll put it down for you.”

“Hey, what about mine?” Wilson asked.

The morning breeze felt good on his face. They passed the last traffic light in town and headed across the bridge. Effin looked down at the water. For a late autumn morning, the temperature was warm enough. They called it an Indian Summer. Effin really didn’t know why, just another thing he took for granted. He looked at Wilson, who’s attention was focused on the passing landscape.

“So, how’s your mom?” Trip blurted before he caught himself. “I mean… do you make it up to see her much?”

Effin hadn’t seen her in a couple years. Ever since his aunt had her committed, he’d only visited his mother a handful of times, mostly in the company of his aunt. His mom had created a world of her own and didn’t respond to anything outside of it, including Effin.

“I haven’t been to see her since Aunt Gertie died,” Effin said. “She hasn’t said anything in years. She sleeps mostly.”

“I’m so sorry,” Elle said. “We went up once, years ago, when I was still a kid. My mom and your mom were friends, you know. We thought maybe she’d respond to seeing some familiar faces. It… didn’t go very well.”

The SUV slowed down as they turned up a gravel road. Effin saw the sign posted near the turn off. Someone had spray painted Monkey Farm across it in red letters.

“It’s going to get a little bumpy from here,” Trip said, still leading the progression up the access road. “They haven’t done much to this road in years.”

Everyone fell silent until the abandoned lab came into view. It loomed against the tree line, stretching out like a giant grey stone monolith. They pulled into an old parking lot.

Trip and Elle got out, walking towards the front of the police cruiser. Effin tapped on the window.

“A little help here?”

Trip came back and opened the door. “Sorry about that. They only open from the outside.”

Others had gotten out of their vehicles and formed up around them.

“You two stay with me,” Trip said. “I need everyone else to find their groups. Make sure your group leader has a radio, and you’re checking in with the command post every fifteen minutes. Remember, I want to hear everyone yelling this girl’s name. As you clear a grid, we’ll mark it off the map.”

The crowd formed into smaller clusters, looking at maps and checking their radios. Effin noticed several pickup trucks pull into the corner of the lot with dog cages stacked in back. The dogs were all barking as soon as they hit the pavement.

“I didn’t know you were using dogs,” Effin said.

“If anyone finds something that may lead to a scent, we’ll bring them in,” Trip answered. “I wonder what’s got them so worked up. Maybe there’s an animal around.” He waved for Effin to follow in behind him. “Come on, we’ll be set up near the command post.”

Effin saw the tent set up in the corner. People were standing inside the tent, looking at maps pinned to posts, staring at open laptops, or joined into group conversations.

“I’m going to talk a walk and get the lay of the land,” Wilson said. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

Effin watch his friend disappear into the woods.

“Do you see something?” Elle asked.

Effin turned back to her. “No, just looking around,” he said. “It doesn’t look like it did when I was a kid. Back then it was this scary ominous fortress. Now it just looks like a run-down factory.”

“Funny how time will do that,” she half-smiled.

They funneled into the command tent behind Trip and watched as he took report from someone inside.

“Morning, sheriff,” the man said. “I’ve got all the areas we covered yesterday updated in the database, and the new grids have been handed out to the team leaders.”

“Good work, Pete.” Trip patted him on the shoulder.

“The State Police helicopter is available this afternoon,” a middle-aged woman came up beside him.

“And they have a working F.L.I.R. system on board,” Trip asked.

“Yep. They should have enough fuel to stay up for three to four hours,” she answered with a smile.

“F.L.I.R.?” Effin looked an Elle.

“Some kind of camera that picks up body temperature,” she said. “I only know that from being here yesterday.”

All Effin wanted to do was help out with the search for the missing girl. He didn’t care whether it was walking in one of the search lines or passing out coffee. Trip obviously had the situation under control. He really didn’t see his purpose in hanging around at the command post.

“So, what do you want me and Elle doing?” he asked.

Trip half-turned to them. “Effin, I want you to hang out here with me at the C.P. Elle? Could you help with giving out water and power bars to the searchers when they come back to base?”

“Sure, no problem,” she said. “I’m on H2O patrol.” She headed over towards a neighboring tent. “Effin, I’ll catch up with you later,” she said, waving.

“I could help out Elle,” Effin offered. He was really hoping to spend some time with her.

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather you just hang out here with me,” Trip said.

That’s when it fell into place. Trip wanted to keep an eye on him. It wasn’t about Effin coming out there to help out. It was all about keeping track of him. He should have seen that coming.

“So basically, you’re going to babysit me,” Effin said.

The smile faded from Trip’s face.

Too bad Elle didn’t stick around for this part. Grabbing him by the elbow, Trip led Effin just outside the tent. He rubbed the back of his neck and avoided eye contact.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you being out here and wanting to help out,” he said.

“It’s just that nobody really wants me here,” Effin added.

“Can you blame them?” he asked. “Everyone already knows you’re back in town and had a run-in behind Charlie’s bar. Word spreads pretty quick in a small town and rumors are already spreading.”

Effin looked around the search site. He was oblivious to it up until that moment, but everyone there couldn’t help but cast an occasional sideways glance his way. A couple near the woods actually pointed at him. He felt like all two hundred people were focused on him.

“This was a mistake,” he said. “I never should have come. Everyone should be worried about finding that little girl, not me. I’m a distraction.”

“There’s just a lot going on, and the last thing I need are more problems. I’m glad you’re here. Honest. But the best thing you can do is stay here in the command post with me for now,” Trip said, offering his hand as a peace gesture. “I’m still your friend, Effin.”

Effin shook his hand, but the paranoia was already getting to him.

“I appreciate that. I only came here to help,” he said.

Trip started for the tent, but then stopped.

“One more thing,” he said, turning back to him.

“What?”

“Wilson’s dad isn’t taking your return to town very well.” He pointed to a section of the woods. “I sent him out with an earlier group. Just try to keep your distance, okay?”

Great. Mr. Beaumont always blamed Effin for his son’s death. He’d tell anyone who would listen back then that Effin needed put away. He wanted him arrested, but Trip’s dad said there wasn’t enough evidence to bring any kind of charges. When that failed, he tried to have Effin committed to a state mental hospital, but the counselor suggested therapy instead of a padded room. There definitely was no love lost between the two of them.

“Just tell me where to stand,” Effin said, giving in.

“Thanks.”

Back inside the tent, he found a folding chair in the corner, and watched Trip go back to work, making sure radios were all on the same frequency, keeping the media satisfied with updates, sending ATV’s out to the outlying trails around the search area. Effin almost envied him. Trip radiated confidence, and everyone around him seemed to respect what he did and what he had to say. This was his hometown, and everyone looked to him in times of trouble. Effin was the story moms told their kids to keep them from going into the woods.

“Psssst. Effin. Over here.”

Wilson stood just outside the tent. He waved Effin over.

“Why are you whispering?” Effin asked. “No one can hear you, well, besides me.”

“You’ve got to see this.” Wilson headed back towards the woods.

Effin stood his ground. “No way. Trip said to stay right here. I’m not sneaking off into the woods. Everyone around here is already suspicious of me.”

Wilson waved more emphatically. “You don’t understand. You’ve got to see this. I think I may have found something.”

Effin looked back at Trip, who was busy going over a map on the other side of the tent. He sighed and followed his friend into the woods.

“What did you find?” he asked.

“I can’t explain it,” Wilson said. “You’ve just got to see it for yourself.”

Wilson led him down a small path leading around the building. They came out in another parking lot on the back side. There were two large bay doors side by side. Effin guessed it used to be a loading dock of some sort. Wilson stopped at a smaller man door beside the others.

“In here,” he said.

“They’ve already cleared this whole building,” Effin said. “That was the first thing they did.”

“Yeah, well, I guess they missed this.” Wilson disappeared into the building.

“This is such a bad idea,” Effin said, looking back at the woods before following his friend inside.

—13—

Liars, and Braggarts, and Scares,

Oh My

Denton sat on the edge of a log, tenderly rubbing his lower calf. He never considered himself an outdoorsman. As a matter of fact, he pretty much despised the woods as a general point. The insects, the disorder, the sweat. These were all things he tried to avoid. If wasn’t the first time that morning he pondered the wisdom of coming back up there.

“Are you okay?” Someone him asked from behind.

Denton jumped up, grabbing a nearby branch. He spun around and came face to bosom with a kindly looking middle-aged woman.

“Who the hell are you?”  he snapped before catching himself. “Um… sorry. Yeah, I mean. I think so.” Denton looked down at his injured leg. “I twisted my ankle on a rock back there.”

He was off his game and knew it. He hadn’t slept all night. Finding an automated car wash outside of town, he cleaned and vacuumed the car three times before driving back to the dormitories. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t any trace evidence lingering around inside the car, and he needed to wash away the dust from the abandoned lab. Back in his room, all he did was pace. Without Murphy or Caesar there, the weight of the night’s events felt like a bag of rocks on his shoulders. He couldn’t look at their empty beds. He figured playing out his regular routine was the best thing he could do, which meant heading down to the cafeteria in the morning for a coffee and bagel. A group of students were talking about volunteering up at the Farm with the search for the missing girl. It was too perfect of an opportunity for him to pass up.

“I’ll tell the line leader to radio for a medical team to come look at it,” the woman said. “They can have one of those ATV’s out here in less than ten minutes.”

“No,” Denton urged. The last thing he wanted was someone hovering over him and asking him personal questions, like his real name. He used a fake one when he signed in at the base tent that morning. “I’m okay.”

The local high school lent some of its busses to ship volunteers to the site, and Denton merged in with the crowd on the way up. He couldn’t explain it, but he thought coming back up there would help him cover his tracks. He needed to be there when they discovered Murphy and Caesar’s bodies. The waiting proved the hardest part.

“Are you sure, hon,” she asked. “They’ll take you back to the command post and get that wrapped.”

“We’re not that far out,” Denton said. “I’ll walk back myself. I don’t want to trouble them with a sore ankle. Can you fill my spot in the line?”

“We’ll close it in,” she said. “Maybe you can come back out later?”

“I’ll try.” Denton picked himself up and started hobbling back towards the base. He turned and waved. “Thanks again for the help…”

“Lois,” she said.

“Thanks, Lois,” Denton said, smiling warmly before he turned away from her. “You dumb hillbilly,” he murmured.

Denton backtracked through the woods until he felt safely out of eyesight. He could still hear them calling Libby in the distance. That’s all he heard all morning. Libby, are you there? Libby, can you hear me? Libby this and Libby that. If he heard that name one more time, he was ready to scream.

He felt a chill run down his back and pulled his jacket closer around his neck.

It wasn’t until he was about a mile into the woods that morning when he realized his tactical error. How was he going to know anything, standing in the middle of the woods with a bunch of would-be do-gooders. Faking an injury would put him back at the command post. He’d be in ear shot when they found his classmates.

He was already practicing the shocked look on his face, and the story he’d give them. Caesar? Murphy? Both dead? What? But… but… how? The last time he saw Murphy and Caesar was last night, after the party. They said they were going to meet someone off campus, something about scoring some smoke. They asked him to tag along, but he, of course, refused.

A branch cracked in the distance. He froze.

“Lois?”

His nerves were getting to him. That was all. It all made perfect sense last night. He’d covered all the angles. After shooting Caesar, he finished Murphy off by beating him to death with a brick. In Murphy’s condition, it didn’t take long. He put the brick in Caesar’s still warm hand and wiped down the gun as a precaution. He carefully positioned the Luger in Murphy’s hand, making sure to get his finger inside the trigger guard. He dropped the bag of weed between the two of them. It was just enough to give the cops some type of motif for the deaths. With any luck, they’d find a way to pin the missing girl on them too, and he’d be clear of it.

Something growled in the underbrush behind him.

Denton picked up the pace. Whatever it was seemed to be following him. Even after all the god forsaken leadership building weekends of paintball and capture the flag he father sent him to, he never felt comfortable in the great outdoors.

Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

He started to run. The mix of limbs and wet leaves made the terrain tricky, especially with Denton wearing loafers instead of hiking boots. He didn’t have time to change back at school. Another growl. He knew he shouldn’t look back, but it felt like it was right behind him. Taking his chances, he glanced back. Something dark darted between the trees not far from him. He only caught a flash, but it was big, bigger than a coyote, but slimmer than a bear.

“Oh, god.”

He wished he still had his Luger, but it had to be sacrificed for the greater good. Turning back, he ran straight into a low hanging branch. It felt like his nose exploded. The woods started spinning around him. He dropped down into the carpet of leaves, and then flat on his back. He could taste the blood running from his nose into his mouth. He tried to focused, searching for whatever was still following him.

“Leave me alone,” he shouted.

The wet leaves stuck to his arm as he stumbled back to his feet. His body didn’t want to cooperate. Whatever was following him was circling, watching, getting closer.

He heard laughter, or at least he thought it was. It sounded more like a dog being strangled. Something moved under one of the trees. Hidden in the shadows, it stood up, easily seven feet tall, but all Denton could focus on were the rows of fangs smiling at him, and the piercing red eyes.

“Hungry,” it snarled.

It leaped into the limbs of the tree overhead. Denton could hear them snapping. He covered his head.

“Leave me alone!”

Something grabbed his shoulder. He lashed out, his arms flailing wildly, clumsily falling back down.

“Take it easy, pal. What are you doing out here by yourself?”

A sheriff’s deputy stood over at him, his stare a mix of amusement and concern.

“What?” Denton asked.

The deputy helped him up, brushing away the loose foliage.

“I heard screaming, and thought I’d check it out,” the deputy said. “You were rolling around on the ground yelling. Is someone else out here?”

Denton looked around. The woods were quiet again. Maybe he was just seeing things. He chalked it up to stress.

“I… I suppose not,” he said. “I ran into a tree branch and tripped. I guess I just got spooked.”

“The woods can do that to you,” the deputy said. “Especially in these woods. Come on. You need to get that nose looked at. It may be broken.”

Following the officer’s lead, Denton took one last look into the branches overhead before falling in close step behind him.

—14—

Alice, Through the Ventilation Shaft

Wilson turned in small circles, standing in the middle of the darkened cargo bay.

“They were right here, Effin. I swear. They were right here!”

Effin should have known better. Everything was telling him it was a bad idea. His friend had a real knack of making bad situations worse. Dragging him away from the command post to the back of the building, and then sneaking in through one of the doors had wrong written all over it. He hoped it wasn’t another one of Wilson’s twisted practical jokes.

“Who was right here?” Effin asked, throwing his hands in the air to mimic his friend.

“There were two guys on the ground,” Wilson pleaded. “Deader than dead.” He turned in a circle again. “I mean right here.”

“And they disappeared in the ten minutes it took you to come and get me?” Effin asked. He turned, heading for the door. Wilson jumped in front of him.

“I am not bullshitting you.” He held his hands out to stop him.

Effin walked right through him.

“Ewww. You know I hate it when you do that,” Wilson said.

Effin knew exactly how much he hated it. That’s why he did it.

“I don’t have time for this, Wilson,” he said. “If they find out I’m gone, everyone’s going to be even more suspicious of me than they already are. I’m walking on pretty thin ice already here, pal.”

“Effin.”

Wilson was just standing there. He didn’t even try to follow him towards the door.

“What?” Effin asked, his temper flaring. He spun around.

“I’m not lying.” Wilson said, giving him his best dog smacked by a wet newspaper look.

Effin took one more step towards the door, reaching for the knob before he paused. One of the lessons he carried away from that day in the woods, the one thing that’s haunted him ever since, rule number six, never turn your back on a friend. He swore he’d never do it again as long as he lived.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s say I believe you.” Effin walked back to the spot. “Which I’m not saying that I do. Okay. So, why would there be two dead guys in here?”

The light in Wilson’s eyes reignited.

“How should I know? But they were here,” he said. “One guy had a hole in his head the size of my fist, and the other guy ended up on the wrong side of a brick, repeatedly. There was a whole pool of blood here, and now it’s gone. Maybe I’m in the wrong warehouse somehow? But, I remember this graffiti. I mean, how many Roy—God of Pot and Thunder’s can there be?”

Effin ran his finger over the cement floor. His fingers immediately started to burn.

“Ow.” Effin hissed. “It feels like someone poured acid or something on here.”

Effin wiped his hand against the front of his jeans, trying to get the burning sensation to go away. The place hadn’t been operational in decades. Why would someone be spraying acid on the floor? It didn’t make any sense.

“Holy crap in a can,” Wilson blurted. “That’s it. Someone came in to cover it up. It’s an actual G.D. conspiracy.”

“But who would…” Effin cut his own question short. Something was watching them from the corner of the loading dock. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

Wilson bent down next to him.

“I didn’t see anyone,” he said. “And people don’t exactly hide when I’m around.”

“There’s something in the corner.” Effin pointed across the room. “It’s watching us.”

He stared into the shadows, waiting for it to move. It felt like he walked into the middle of a game of cat and mouse, and he definitely wasn’t the cat. He picked up a few loose stones.

“What are you doing?” Wilson asked.

“I don’t like surprises,” Effin whispered.

He flung the rocks into the corner. They bounced off the concrete blocks and rattled off the floor. Definitely not what he expected.

“Maybe it was possum?” Wilson asked.

“Yeah, maybe.” Effin turned around and looked at his friend. “What are you doing?”

Wilson was standing on one leg in some warped version of a yoga stance with his fingers bent like claws.

“It’s a defensive stance,” he said. “I saw it on late night cable. They say there is no defense for it.”

“Okay, Wilson, let’s get out of here.”

Effin stood up and headed for the door.

“So, what was I supposed to do if there were a couple dead bodies in here?” Effin asked.

“I figured you could tell Trip. He’d come check it out, and you’d be the hero of the day.”

“That’s one way it could play, I guess. Or, they realize I’m missing from the base camp, and all of a sudden, I come running in and I say, hey guys—come see the dead bodies I just happened to stumble upon in the less than two hours I’ve been here. And then they come here and find them and lock me up for the next twenty to forty years. Didn’t really think this one out very well, did you, compadre?”

“Oh,” Wilson stopped. “Huh? I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Wilson had a habit of acting before he thought, probably a side-effect of never having to really worry about the consequences. With any luck, he could sneak back to his assigned seat before Trip noticed he was gone. Worst case scenario, he could blame it on a run to the port-o-john.

“Duck!” Wilson shouted.

Effin hit the ground on all fours. Something sliced through the air above them, and cut into Effin’s shoulder. The satchel on his arm fell to the ground, the contents spilling across the cement floor.

“What the hell?” Effin screamed.

Whatever it was landed twenty feet beyond them, its claws scratching into the concrete as it skidded to a stop. Effin scrambled for his sketchbook, grabbing pages and stuffing them back into his case.

“Would you forget about the drawing stuff and run?” Wilson took off across the room.

Pinning the satchel under his arm, he took off after his friend.

“Where are we running?” Effin asked.

“Away from whatever the hell that is,” Wilson yelled over his shoulder. He waved for Effin to follow. “Over here.”

The sound of padded feet thumping against the cement got louder and louder. Whatever it was, it was gaining on them. He considered turning around and squaring off with whatever it was, but from the sound of its paws smacking off the floor, it was definitely bigger than a rabid bunny or fox.

Wilson ran toward one of the walls and vanished into the dark.

“Hey, I can’t run through walls,” Effin yelled.

Wilson reappeared near the floor, hanging out of an open ventilation grate.

“In here,” he said.

Effin dove for the small opening. He could practically feel the thing’s breath on the back of his neck as he flew through the air. Jumping through the open shaft, he crashed into the back wall of the vent. Wilson was already a good ten feet ahead of him, crawling farther into the dark metal passage. Something grabbed Effin’s leg. He kicked as hard as he could and felt his foot connect with something. It shrieked in pain as claws ripped down his leg. Fighting back the pain, he followed his friend deeper down the shaft, crawling like a toddler on a sugar rush. Wilson stopped at a cross section of the vents.

“Left, right, or straight,” he asked.

“I don’t care,” Effin said. “Just keep going.”

Wilson turned left. He could feel the blood soaking through his pants. They must have gone a hundred yards or more. It felt more like he just jogged ten miles. Each gasp of air echoed in the narrow metal box, making it sound ten times worse.

“Wait. Hold on. I need to take a break,” Effin finally said.

“Are you crazy? That thing’s right behind us.”

Effin stopped and listened. For as much noise as the thing made back in the loading dock, he couldn’t hear anything behind them.

“No. I don’t think it came in after us,” he said. “I need to take a look at my leg.”

Using the light from his phone, Effin did a quick exam. Three tears traced down from his knee to his ankle. The cuts weren’t as bad as he expected, but he still needed to stop the bleeding. He ripped the sleeve from his shirt and worked on the makeshift bandage.

“Hey, how’d you know that ventilation shaft was there,” Effin asked.

“I can see pretty good in the dark,” Wilson answered.

“I never knew that.”

“I think I see some light up ahead,” Wilson said.

Effin checked his handiwork. It was far from perfect, but it would do.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

They crawled another forty feet before coming to another opening. The grate was still in place, but light shined in from the slats. Effin tried peeking through, but he couldn’t see anything on the other side.

“What do you think?” he asked Wilson.

“It’s not like we can go back the way we came,” he said. “This place is like a maze. One grate’s as good as the next. Let’s give it a kick.”

Effin braced his back against the rear of the shaft and pulled his knees up to his chest. He kicked as hard as he could. The grate buckled and broke free, clanging against the floor below them.

Poking his head through the opening, Effin looked around using the light from his phone.

“Looks like a hallway with a bunch of doors,” he said.

“Can you see a way out?” Wilson asked.

“Not from here.”

Turning over on his stomach, Effin dangled outside the vent shaft. He slowly inched his way out, gripping the lip of the opening before dropping the last few feet to the floor. Wilson mimicked his moves before they both looked around the vacant hall. The doors to the rooms were all closed. Effin tried one, but it was locked. At the far end of the hall was a set of double doors.

“Down this way.” He waved for Wilson.

Effin stopped. The door to his right was cracked open. He smelled something rotten inside, like meat left in a freezer after the power’s been off for a week. He covered his nose with the front of his shirt.

“Maybe we should just keep going?” Effin asked, trying to look into the room from the safety of the hall. “I think we’ve had enough adventure for one morning.”

“What if it has something to do with the girl?” Wilson asked.

Shit. Effin hadn’t considered that. Maybe it was just a dead raccoon in the corner.

“You go in first.” Effin pointed to the door.

“No way.” Wilson stepped back. “I’m not the one trying to impress a girl.”

“But you can’t get hurt,” Effin said. “Because of, you know, your condition.”

Wilson didn’t like being called a ghost. Sometimes Effin wondered if he even accepted that he was dead. It was an argument he wasn’t going to win standing in the middle of an abandoned research lab.

“Emotionally,” Wilson said. “What about the emotional trauma?”

“Fine. I’ll go.”

Effin shined the light inside. It didn’t help much. He took a couple steps inside. The smell seemed a hundred times worse. He could feel his stomach churning as he fought back a couple dry heaves. He saw a pile of branches and leaves piled in the corner. It looked like someone tried to make a nest, but it was big, big enough for a large dog or possibly whatever it was that attacked them back in the loading dock.

“Check this out,” he said, looking back at Wilson, who waited in the doorway.

“What the hell is that?” Wilson asked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we want to wait around and find out,” he said.

Effin moved to the other side of the room. A pile of dried bones were stacked against the wall. Beside that was a mound of dead rabbits, their guts poured on the floor.

“I guess that explains the smell,” Wilson said.

“You think?” Effin asked, hoping the sarcasm came though.

“What’s that?” Wilson pointed to something next to the heap of dead bunnies.

Effin bent down, shining his phone on it.

“Oh, boy,” he said.

“What?” Wilson knelt next to him.

On the ground was a doll, well more like half of a doll. Someone or something had ripped it in half. It was the same doll from Lefty’s picture, the one the little girl had been holding.

“This is bad,” Wilson said.

“This is real bad.” Effin looked back at the door. “We need to get out of here and tell Trip about this. Come on.”

Back in the hall, Effin stopped in front of the set of double doors.

“This has to lead us out,” he said.

“Or into something worse,” Wilson added.

“We really don’t have a lot of choices here.”

As gently as he could, Effin cracked the door open, waiting for something to jump out at them and rip his head off. Satisfied nothing was coming out, he swung it open wider. Cement stairs led straight up from the door.

“At least we’re going up,” Effin said.

Watching his footing, they crept up about ten steps before Effin banged his head against something solid.

“Ow. I think we hit a dead end,” he said.

Feeling around above him, Effin could trace the outline of a hatch with his hand. It sat at an angle to the stairs. He shined his light above him and saw hinges on one side.

“I don’t suppose you could…”

“I’m fine where I’m at,” Wilson said.

Pushing against the metal barricade, Effin felt it give, but it felt like there was pressure from the other side. He braced his shoulder against the hatch and pushed as hard as he could.

Daylight blasted through the opening. They were back outside, surrounded by woods. He could see the building behind them, a good hundred yards away. The outside of the door hatch was covered with leaves and branches to camouflage it.

“Cool. We found a secret passage,” Wilson said.

“Yeah, but what secret are they hiding?” Effin asked. “Let’s go find Trip.”

“But I thought you said that would be bad for you?”

“Probably, but it doesn’t matter now,” Effin said. “If Libby is still alive, I don’t think she will be for much longer.”

—15—

Buckle Up, Buttercup

“Of all the stupid, lame brained crap to pull,” Trip stood over Effin, scolding him like a bad kid in catholic school. If Trip would have had a stick handy, Effin was pretty sure he’d have some sore knuckles by then.

“I was only trying to help,” Effin calmly answered, pleading his case.

“I told you he’d never believe you.” Wilson sat next to Effin on a folding chair.

“And what if that thing killed you?” Trip asked, looking down at the fresh bandage around Effin’s leg.

“I’m tougher than I look. Did you send anyone to check out that room or not?” Effin knew Trip was only doing his job, and he expected to get some heat for straying away from their little command post, but he could only take so much. He looked around and saw the sneers and side glances from the other people huddled around them in the tent. They all had that I knew it was just a matter of time before he screwed up look to them.

“I sent three deputies and a tracking dog,” Trip said. “They should be there by now.”

Trip’s face softened. Maybe he realized he was coming down a little too hard on his friend. He knelt down next to Effin’s chair.

“Look, Effin, I know you’re just trying to help. I appreciate that. I really do.” Trip looked around before he continued. “You’re like a powder keg around here, pal, and people are just waiting for something to explode. You need to be careful. I don’t need any distractions from finding Libby.”

“For your sake or mine?” Effin asked.

“For both of ours,” Trip said. “Why do you think someone is trying to cover something up in the loading dock? And what’s with the acid you said was on the floor?”

Effin couldn’t tell him about Wilson seeing two dead bodies there. Even though he believed what his friend told him, he had no real proof, and he was already skating on thin ice with Trip. He told him about the acid, hoping they’d send in a forensic team or something and find some trace evidence like they did in all those crime shows Wilson loved to watch. They could identify a suspect from the reflection in the witnesses’ cornea by pulling the security camera footage in the alley. How the hell could they not detect acid on the floor when it just nearly burnt his hands off?

“I don’t know. You’re the cop,” Effin said. “It just seemed pretty odd somebody would douse the floor with acid when this place hasn’t been running in decades.”

Trip scribbled some notes on a pad.

“Oh, come on,” Wilson said. “Do I have to do everything? Tell the red badge of courage he needs to swab a sample off the floor, dust for latents, bring in the alternate light sources, maybe throw down some Luminol to show trace blood. After that, he needs to photograph from all angles, cast for foot impressions, and obviously collect debris from the floor to analyze back at the bat cave. Remember that episode where they traced a spec of dirt and shoe print back to a factory in northern Canada? And all that was in just an hour.”

“And the room with the bones?” Trip asked.

“It’s just like I told you,” Effin said. “I don’t know what it means, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

The radio on Trip’s side crackled.

“Sir, its Higby. We’re inside the loading dock.”

“And?”

“Nothing here, sir. No signs of any large animals. There does seems to be something recently poured on the floor though. Can’t say what it is.”

“Okay,” Trip answered. “Call me back when you find that other room.”

“Copy that,” the deputy said. “Sir?”

“Go ahead.”

“Carl just found something. You’re going to want to see this.”

“What is it?” Trip asked.

“I’m not really sure. We’ll bring it back to base with us.”

“Was there anything else in the loading dock?” Trip asked Effin.

“Not that I saw,” he said.

***

“That’s impossible.”

Denton stepped away from the command post, still not believing what he just heard. He knew coming back to the base was a good idea. Slipping away from the medical tent was a piece of cake. When that weird guy came rushing back in from the woods, saying he needed to talk to the sheriff right away, Denton thought that was it. They found Caesar and Murphy.

“How could they not have found them?” Denton asked, realizing he just said that out loud. He looked around to make sure he was alone. Get it together, you buffoon.

This was all wrong. It wasn’t like two bodies were just going to vanish. He took great care in setting up that crime scene. Denton headed down the small path that led around the side of the building, back towards the loading docks. He knew it was a risk, but he had to see for himself. Even if he saw the deputies, he’d at least know they were in the right spot. Maybe there were two sets of loading docks for the lab?

Suddenly, he realized he was back in the woods. He looked up at the branches surrounding him, all but bare of their leaves. Picking up the pace, he saw the police cruisers parked in front of the docks.

Damn. It didn’t make any sense. He crouched down near the base of a large tree and considered the possibilities. If animals, like maybe the one from earlier, dragged Murphy and Caesar away, there still would be blood on the floor and drag marks on the cement. Someone had to take the time to not only move the bodies, but to clean up the crime scene in less than twelve hours. Why would someone do that?

Then it hit him. What if Murphy was still alive? Maybe he didn’t kill him? Denton turned around and looked, half-expecting to see his friend coming up behind him with a brick in his hand. He could still feel Murphy’s skull crack each time he smashed him in the head. There was no way he survived, let alone had the energy to move Caesar’s body and clean everything up. He’d be lucky to crawl after the beating Denton gave him.

Still, if it wasn’t an animal or the possibility of his friend still being alive, then what? Someone must have saw what he did last night, and that someone had their own plans. Why else would they have cleaned it all up? He was being targeted. He had to be.

He tried to come up with a short list of people who would have a reason to come gunning for him, but the list came back anything but short. He’d made a lot of enemies over the years at his former schools. It could be any number of people, both male or female, wanting to exact some revenge on him. Everyone knew he came from money. He made no secrets about it. Someone was looking to cash in on Denton’s name. That was it. It had to be.

Something shuffled in the leaves behind him. Denton froze. His hands started shaking, and he grabbed onto a nearby tree to steady himself. He didn’t know if he could survive another encounter with whatever was lurking out in those woods. The fact that it stood on two legs, and the way it smiled at him, Denton realized there may be a lot more going on than a missing little girl. He chanced a look around the tree.

Someone was moving in the distance. A man was dragging something behind him, something big, through the leaves. Denton snuck across the edge of the parking lot to the loading docks. On the other side, he crept back into the woods, making his way to the top of a small hill. Now that he was closer, he saw the man more clearly. He was older than he originally thought, struggling with a large black bag slung over his shoulder. The man stumbled through the foliage, making his way deeper into the woods.

He was moving the bodies! Denton thought about running down the hill and confronting him, but he didn’t know what he would be stepping into. What if the guy was some type of government agent or had a gun on him? He could just put a hole in Denton’s head and take his collection of dead college kids up to three.

He could run back to the loading docks and find a Deputy, but then he’d have to explain himself, and he couldn’t risk letting this guy get out of sight. Instead, he followed him. If he could find out where he was taking the bodies, he could make an anonymous phone call to the sheriff’s department, telling them the location. They find his dead friends with this guy, and the guy gets pinned with all of it. It may work out even better than the original plan.

He silently snuck behind the mystery man, trying to stay as quiet as he could in the dead autumn leaves. The man seemed oblivious to the notion that anyone could be following him. Between his labored breathing and heavy footsteps, a high school band could be behind the guy, and he’d never notice.

They came out on a small one lane service road. There was a van backed into a small turnaround by the road. Denton found another tree to use for cover. He watched as the man put the sack down near the rear of the van and opened the back doors. Taking considerable effort, the man finally leveraged the bag into the back of the vehicle. Slamming the cargo doors closed, he leaned against them while catching his breath.

“This is what’s best for everyone,” the man said in a thick German accent.

Maybe there was someone else back there, Denton thought. Who else would he be talking to? He crouched farther behind the tree.

“The farm isn’t safe for us anymore,” the man said. “I can’t have any of this traced back to me. It needs to end. I’m sorry.”

The man was practically in tears as he walked around to the driver’s side of the van. Denton heard the door shut before he scrambled down the side of the hill. It was his one chance. He couldn’t let this guy get away. Jumping the last few feet down the hill, Denton hit the ground directly behind the van. He heard the transmission grind into gear as he grabbed the small metal ladder attached to the van’s back door. He propped his feet up on the bumper as the van pulled out onto the small dirt road.

All he had to do was hold on long enough to find out where they were taking the bodies. The road was rougher than he expected. It took all he had to just hang on to that stupid metal ladder. Two minutes down the road, and he could already feel his arms aching. He chanced a look around the side of the van. They were coming up on the parking lot filled with the search parties. He could see people bustling around.

Great. How would he explain someone seeing him hanging on the back of a van with a couple dead bodies inside of it? The same two guys he just happened to share a room with. Maybe he could jump off and call 911 to report the suspicious vehicle? Denton pulled his phone out of his pocket. No service. So much for that idea. They were getting closer to the lot. He could actually hear people talking. If he let go and took off back into the woods, he’d lose the upper hand. The guys in the van still didn’t know he was onto them. Whatever he was about to do? He needed to make it quick.

The van jerked to a stop.

“Doctor Callus, what brings you all the way out here today?”

“I was just looking to help,” the driver said. “I must have gotten lost and turned down a wrong road, eh?”

Denton wrapped his arm around one of the ladder’s rungs, holding on the best he could. He could feel his foot slipping.

“Looks that way,” the other man said. “Are you headed up to the command post?”

“Nein. I am suddenly not feeling well,” the doctor said. “I think I’ll head back into town and rest for a bit.”

Denton’s shoe slid off the metal bumper and thumped against the ground. He yanked it back up.

“You sure everything is okay in there?” the man asked. “I could get one of the volunteers to drive you home. Let me get one on the radio.”

“Nein. Nein. I’m fine, mein freund, just old. I can make my own way back to town. But thank you for the concern.”

“Okay, doc, be careful.”

The van jerked forward.

“Hey! Hold on a minute, doc. It looks like there’s a branch wedged in your back wheel.”

Denton heard the voice coming around the side of the van.

“I’ll get it.”

Watching from the roof of the van, Denton saw the man tug the small limb from between the tire and the van’s wheel well. He tossed it aside and waved.

“You’re all good, doc.”

At least, the ride back to town would be a lot more comfortable on the roof than trying to hold onto the ladder on back. As long as they didn’t pass any tractor trailers, no one would even realize he was up there. He wondered what kind of doctor the driver was, and how this all tied together with his dead friends. As soon as he found out where the good doctor was taking them, he could notify the authorities and still come out on top of this.

—16—

Tell him what he’s won, Gene!

Effin watched the sun hanging low in the corner of the parking lot. He wished he’d brought an extra shirt with him as an autumn breeze blew across the parking lot. Trip asked him to come to another small base camp they set up near the back of the lab. He told Effin he needed him there in case they had any questions. Effin knew he just wanted to keep him in eyesight. At least Trip left the engine to his police car running. Effin could feel some heat rising from the engine as he leaned on the hood.

“If I could feel anything, my butt would be so numb.” Wilson posted up next to Effin.

Wilson verged on ADD as it was. Sitting in the middle of the woods, watching a bunch of sheriff’s deputies sift through a pile of bones on a tarp they spread out in the parking for the past four hours was driving him insane.

It was hard enough not talking to his friend in public most of the time, but when he was the only person around, it was damn near impossible. Wilson had been trying to start up a game of I Spy for the past fifteen minutes.

“I spy something blue,” Wilson said.

“I said, I spy something blue,” he repeated.

“Would you stop it,” Effin mumbled.

“Come on, Effin. You’re the one who told me to stay by your side. I wanted to take a walk like two hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, look at what happened after your last walkabout, Dick Dundee,” Effin said.

“What? You mean break this case wide open?” Wilson threw his arms in the air. “We may have just found the lair of Rumors Mill’s own serial killer?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, bud. There’s something else going on here.”

Effin watched as one of the professors from the local college examined what looked like a leg bone. The man turned it over and looked at it from different angles, measuring the width of certain parts with a small slide rule.

“He seems to really like measuring bones,” Wilson said, rubbing his chin.

“Would you shut up already?” Effin snapped.

One of the deputies nearby glanced up at Effin.

“Did you say something?” the officer asked.

“No… I sneezed,” Effin said.

The deputy went back to what he was doing. He wished he knew what was going on inside the lab. The waiting was killing him.

“Gesundheit.”

“Knock it off already, Wilson,” Effin grunted.

“Sorry. I was just bringing you a water,” Elle held the bottle out to him as a peace offering.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” he said, accepting the drink.

“It’s okay,” she laughed. “I figured you could use something to wet your whistle. Did you just call me Wilson?”

Great. He just told his lifetime crush to shut up, and, on top of that, he let it slip he was just this side of crazy too.

“I think I said Benson,” he lied. “Like the butler guy on TV.”

It was worth a try. There were only a handful of people he could say Wilson’s name to, and they’d understand the history. Elle was in that circle. He took a long drink, realizing it had been the first liquid he’d tasted since his morning coffee.

“No. I’m pretty sure you said Wilson. You don’t mean our Wilson? Do you?” she asked.

“You are so busted,” Wilson said. “Serves you right for telling me to shut up.”

“Well, I mean, I thought that maybe—”

“Effin, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

In that moment, Effin saw something in her eyes, something he could only remember seeing in one other person, and that was acceptance. It was the same look his Aunt Gertie gave him when she picked him up from the train station years ago. He felt like he could tell her anything that day and she’d understand. If it wasn’t for that woman, he had no idea where he would have ended up. Actually, he did, and it involved a room with padded walls. He couldn’t believe he was about to take that chance again.

“He’s still with me,” Effin said. “Even after all these years, I… still see him, like he never left.”

“Wilson?” Elle asked, without even a trace of emotion.

“Wilson,” he answered.

She cocked her head to the side. “Is he here now?”

Effin told his aunt about Wilson and their special relationship when he was fourteen and seriously considering checking himself into a mental institution. He remembered her words. They’d carried him through the rest of his life. We all live with ghosts she told him, and they never talked about it again.

“He’s standing by the car to your right,” he said. “Now he’s dancing. I think it’s called the stank leg.”

Elle looked to her side and burst into laughter.

“So, do you think I’m a total loon now?” Effin asked.

“Maybe not a total loon,” she said, still giggling. “Is that the worst you’ve got to share?”

“That’s not bad enough?” Effin asked.

“Oh, please,” Elle chuckled. “I work at a bar, remember? I’ve dealt with more guys that see imaginary people than I can shake a stick at.”

“But, he’s not really imaginary,” Effin protested.

“Is he still dancing behind me?” she asked.

Effin looked over at Wilson. He was in the middle of an improvised line dancing routine.

“If you want to call it that.”

She turned in his general direction. “Hi, Wilson. I see you’re still as much of a smooth operator as ever.”

Wilson stopped in mid-thrust. He stood there, dumbfounded and speechless.

“Did she just speak to me?” he asked.

“She did,” Effin acknowledged.

“Wow. Nobody but you has spoken to me in so long, I don’t know what to say.” Wilson made a weak attempt at fixing his hair. “So, Elle, what are you doing later?”

“Is he talking to me?” she asked. “What did he say?”

“He said it’s nice to see you again,” Effin said.

“I bet,” she laughed.

Effin was at a loss for words himself. After all the years he’d been gone, and in less than twenty-four hours, Elle was back in his world. She accepted his quirks, and what he’d hid from the rest of the world for the better part of his life. Only because of her, he wished he’d have never have left town, never gone away. Maybe things were looking up for him.

Trip emerged from the building and headed their way. Not that Effin didn’t want to find the little girl, but he had to admit, he was ready to call it a day. It was already getting dark out. He figured Trip would be calling the search off until morning and was looking forward to heading back to town with Elle.

Trip stopped in front of the car and tipped his hat.

“Elle. What are you doing over here?”

“Just thought I’d check on my guy, Effin, and bring him a bottle of water,” she said.

Effin couldn’t help but focus on her use of his name and the words my guy in the same sentence.

“Well, I’m sure he appreciated that, but if it’s all the same, I need to speak with him alone,” Trip said.

Effin stood up, away from the car. “It’s okay. Elle can stay.”

“I don’t think she’s going to want to hear this,” Trip persisted.

“Would you just spill it already, Trip? We’re losing daylight here,” Elle said.

Trip pulled out a plastic bag from behind his back. Effin could see something inside of it. It looked like a piece of paper. He could see a sticker in the corner marking it as evidence.

“What is that?” Effin asked.

Trip didn’t answer. He placed the bag flat on the hood of the cruiser. Effin could see through the front of it. It was a page out of his sketch book. It was covered in dirt and smeared across the center, but there was more than enough detail left. Effin saw the dark edges of the cell walls bathed in shadows. Drawn in the corner was a huddled mess of a white dress, smeared in grime and blood, topped in a tangle of blond hair. Beside the girl were the remnants of a stuffed doll torn into pieces. It was the picture Lefty left for him last night. He must have dropped it when his bag spilled in the loading dock after that thing attacked him and Wilson.

He saw the confusion mixed with revulsion in Elle’s face.

“We are so screwed,” Wilson said.

Trip pointed at the drawing. “Care to explain this to me?”

“It’s… it’s just a drawing,” Effin said.

“One of yours? From inside that knapsack of yours?” Trip asked.

“Yeah. It’s mine.” What was the sake in lying about it? It’s not like he actually did anything.

“I don’t suppose you have any more in there?” Trip reached for Effin’s bag on the hood. “I’m going to need to take a look.”

“What’s all this about?” Elle asked.

“Effin. Run.” Wilson stood beside him.

“I have… visions sometimes,” Effin said. “They happen while I’m sleeping, and I wake up to those.”

Trip had his sketchbook open on the car, flipping through the pages, one sketched atrocity after the other. Pictures of bad things happening to good people that Effin had no control over. Trip stopped on one page, a middle-aged woman embedded into the front of a city bus, her purse still dangling from her arm. Effin’s eyes filled with tears.

“Good lord,” Elle gasped.

“You drew all of these?” Trip asked.

“Shut up, Effin.” Wilson pulled at his sleeve.

“Sort of,” he said.

Trip flipped through a few more pages and finally shut the drawing pad and placed it back in the leather case. He drew a long breath and looked at Elle.

“We never released the details of her having a doll when she was taken,” Trip said. He pointed to the sketch in the plastic sleeve. “That same doll.”

“Trip, I didn’t, I mean, I’d never…”

“I think it’s best if you come with me back to the station,” he said.

—17—

Virginia, there is no boogeyman

Denton never ventured into town. There really was no need to. The dormitories had a student union right next door, and each building had its own laundry facilities. A little Podunk town like Rumors Mill didn’t have much draw for a bunch of college kids. No way were they coming into town to mix with the locals.

The ride in was nothing short of depressing as Denton watched the deserted storefronts and desolate homes pass by. It made him miss the comforts of the small upstate New York town he was raised in, the small shops and eateries, clothing stores, and the club scene. Instead he was crouched behind a bush in the middle of suburbia watching some ratty little one-story shack. His ankle throbbed from jumping off the van’s roof as it turned into the driveway, heading for the one car detached garage. He barely made it behind the row of hedges as the van pulled inside.

Denton grabbed his cell phone and started dialing 911. It couldn’t have worked out any better. His finger hovered over the last digit when he paused. The light inside the small garage went dark. He didn’t want to be in the middle of a conversation with the emergency operator when the good doctor emerged from inside. The side door opened. There was no light outside, so all he could see were shadows. The man came out, dragging some kind of animal behind him on a heavy leash. Denton could barely see, but whatever it was crawled on all fours. It was big, bigger than a cat or dog, but thin.

“What the hell?” he said.

The small man pulled at the leash. Whatever it was didn’t want to cooperate and fought against the tether. Finally, the doctor wrestled it inside the main house. Something inside crashed. Denton could hear glass breaking and things smashing into walls. He thought about finishing his call and letting the cops handle whatever was happening inside. Then, suddenly, all the noise stopped, and it was quiet again.

That’s when he made the connection. The little girl. This was the sick sonofabitch who took the missing girl. He was hiding her out at the abandoned lab, and he had to move her when they started searching. Denton laughed. He could come out of this a hero after all. Then the second wave of realization hit. If this guy was hiding out at the abandoned lab, then he could have been there last night. He could have seen what Denton did to his friends. Maybe he cleaned it all up and moved the bodies to keep the heat off of him and brought them all back to his house? The old man was trying to outplay Denton.

Denton put the phone back in his pocket.

He needed to find out exactly what was going on in that house. If the police showed up and arrested the old man, he may tell them what he saw back at the lab. They’d come looking for him next.

Sneaking up to the house, he peeked into the closest window. The curtains were drawn. Shit. Moving around to the side, he stood next to the door facing the garage. It was still open. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door just enough to squeeze through. There were muddy prints all over the floor. He tried not to slip as he made his way across the small kitchen. A light was on in the living room. Thankfully the hall was carpeted as he crept down along the wall. It was the first time he got a look at the doctor, who sat in an overstuffed leather recliner drinking a glass of vodka. He wasn’t anything like what he had pictured.

The man was in his sixties, small and frail. The glass trembled as it met his lips. A small radio played big band music on the table next to him. He stared at a photo in his lap. It took a moment for Denton to realize the man was crying and another to notice the blood stains on his hands and sleeves. Reaching for the small music box, the doctor turned up the volume.

“Gott hilf mir,” he stammered.

Great. He’s insane. That could work towards his advantage. Denton backed into the kitchen while the horn section blared behind him. Someone was crying in the distance. It sounded like a girl, coming from somewhere below him. Denton glanced back at the living room. He could see the doctor’s arm still dangling from the chair. He heard the cry again. It was definitely coming from under him. He traced the sound back across the kitchen to a door opposite the one he came in. There must have been ten locks and clasps keeping the door secured. Denton grabbed a knife from the counter.

Holy shit. She’s alive. He’s kept the little girl alive this whole time.

Denton paused and looked at the door leading back outside. If he goes down there and brings her out alive, he’ll be a hero. They won’t have any choice but to believe what he says after finding the van and the doctor’s little house of horrors. Even if the old man tried to implicate him in Murphy and Caesar’s deaths, they’d never believe him. A new story unfolded in Denton’s mind. He and his friends were in the woods that night looking for the little girl. They were attacked, and he woke up there, trapped in the doctor’s house. Bravely, he escaped with the little girl and alerted the authorities. His father would be so proud of him, he’d forgive all his past indiscretions, and his inheritance would be all but assured. It was perfect.

Slowly, he undid the multitude of locks, stopping at the last one. Sliding the bolt free, Denton cracked the door. The smell jolted him almost as much as the booming sound of the orchestra bellowing down the hall. It was worse than the common bathroom back in the dorms. Looking down the wooden staircase, he saw the series of scratch marks that covered the top steps. The base of the door was covered in deep gouge marks with dried blood at the bottom. Halfway down the stairs, he paused. There was something laying on the floor. Maybe it was a dead rat. That was one big damn rat. Flicking open his phone, he used the flashlight, descending the remaining stares one by one. Be the hero. Be the hero.

“Hello?”

Nothing. The air around him was thick. He could smell traces of rotting meat and stale urine. He kicked at something on the floor. It was the bottom half of a child’s doll that had been torn in two. His shoes stuck to the cement as he walked farther into the darkened basement.

“Lizzie?”

Damn. What was her name again? He should have listened better back at the search site. It didn’t matter. Find the girl. Become a hero. Make his father proud.

Someone whimpered in the corner. He moved towards the noise, led by the light of his phone.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m here to help.” He took a couple more steps. “We need to get out of here.”

The crying stopped as he got closer.

“Lily?”

Someone was sitting in the corner, their back turned to him. He could see traces of a dress still clinging to her shoulder.

She growled at him.

Denton stepped back, unsure what to do next. She’d only been missing a few days. Surely, she hadn’t went crazy that quick. What had that monster done to her?

Slowly, she turned towards him, and Denton realized what a giant mistake he had made. Red eyes glowed in the dark, narrowing as it sank its teeth into the remains of the rabbit it worked at devouring. Covered in thick brown fur, a reddened snout dripped thick blood to the floor below.

He held the knife clumsily out in front of him.

“Easy. Take it easy,” he said, slowly backing towards the stairs.

He only made it three steps away before it pounced.

In a flash, it was on him. Claws ripped into his shoulders, teeth clamping down into his arm. He screamed, twisting away. He hit the ground, hard. The room swirled around him, but he felt claws ripping into his clothes. It was like a tornado of teeth, cutting and slicing into his flesh. He could feel his life being torn from him bit by bit.

In a last desperate attempt, he swung the knife wildly behind him. He connected with something solid.

Shrieking, the creature fell back, tumbling across the floor. Denton twisted onto his back and thrust the knife out in front of him before he realized the blade had broken off.

“Anna!”

A man called from the top of the stairs.

The creature scrambled to its feet, claws scratching against the cement floor. It pounced over Denton in one leap, sprinting up the stairs in a blur.

“Anna?” the doctor screamed. “What have you done?”

Denton heard the old man yell out and then fall to the floor. He looked down at his own shirt, which was soaked with blood. Slowly, he pulled himself up and crawled to the basement stairs. The doctor was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, a rifle with a scope was next to him. Denton saw the pool of blood slowly spreading out around the man’s head. From the kitchen window, he saw the beast, or girl, or whatever the hell she was, leaping over the neighbor’s fence outside and then vanish.

Denton headed for the door. He needed to put some distance between him and the doctor before the police showed up.

“Anna?”

Denton turned as the doctor pulled himself to his knees.

“What the hell was that thing?” Denton asked, pausing at the door.

Using the rifle to steady himself, the doctor made it to a nearby chair.

“Thing? Nein. Not a thing,” he said. “Anna, she is my tochter… my daughter.”

“Your what?” Denton asked. How was that even possible? And what did any of it have to do with the missing girl? Or Caesar and Murphy?

The doctor pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shakily lit one. He offered one to Denton, who refused.

“My little Anna,” he said. “She is my everything… my life. I had to do what I did to save her. I had to.”

Denton heard the police sirens in the distance.

“Save her how?” he asked.

“My work at the laboratory, the gene splicing, it saved her, but it also turned her into something… else.”

“What happened to the other two? The two guys from back at the lab?” Denton pressed, the sirens growing nearer.

“Who?”

“The two from the loading dock?”

“Nein. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the doctor said.

As the sirens got closer, Denton felt his future dimming. He totally misread the whole situation. He looked down at the rifle.

Grabbing the gun from the old man, Denton took off out the door and into the yard. His chest felt like it was on fire. His arm was already stiffening, but if he had any chance of getting out of this, he needed to catch the walking nightmare that just escaped.

—18—

Come at me, bro

“Where’d you even get a harmonica?” Effin asked from the corner of the cell.

Wilson stood in the other corner wailing away on the small metal harmonica in his hands. Every time he went for a high note, Effin could feel it in the back of his head. He’d been at it for the last half an hour.

Pulling the mouth harp away, Wilson sat next to Effin on the hard wood bench.

“We musicians are a mysterious breed,” he finally said.

“So, this turned into a pretty big disaster,” Effin chuckled. “Whose idea was it to come back here?”

Wilson put his arm around him.

“Hey, it could always be worse,” he said.

“And how’s that?”

“We could be… well, there’s always… okay, this pretty much sucks.”

“Did you see Elle’s face when Trip pulled out that sketch? She looked at me like I was some kind of monster,” Effin said, pounding the bottom of his fist against the bench. “Maybe she’s right.”

Wilson stood up and moved over to the cell door. He grabbed the bars and looked out into the tiny sheriff’s office.

“She’s a smart girl,” he said. “She’ll figure out you had nothing to do with any of this. I can’t believe Trip tossed us in the pokey, and then had the nerve to leave us here all alone. Do you realize how many fire code violations this has to break?”

“I can’t say that I blame him,” Effin said. “He said it was for my own protection. What’s that saying?”

“Don’t drop the soap in a prison shower?”

“Uh, no. You can never go home is what I was going after,” Effin said. “I don’t think the other one applies if you’re the only guy in jail…and there’s no shower.”

Almost on que, the front door to the station opened, and one of Trip’s deputies walked in. The guy was about Effin’s same age. He had close cropped hair and a cheesy mustache. He stopped at the cell door, and just stared at Effin with a weird smirk on his face.

“What is this guy’s deal?” Wilson asked, standing opposite him on the other side of the bars. “You better hope he doesn’t have a bar of soap in his pocket.”

Effin stayed on the bench and tried his best to avoid eye contact. The guy was looking for trouble. Effin had more than enough of that already. Before Trip left, he told Effin he needed to go back out to the site and wrap things up there, and then he’d be back. That was over an hour ago. Maybe he sent the deputy to come check on him.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” the deputy finally said. “Is she dead?”

Maybe not.

How do you answer a question like that? There was no right answer. That’s probably why he asked it. Effin thought about sitting there and trying to ignore the guy, but he didn’t know how mustache would respond to the silent treatment. He figured his best move was short answers. Maybe he’d get bored and leave him alone.

“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Effin said, without making eye contact.

“That’s not the way I hear it,” the deputy persisted. “The whole town pretty much has you pegged for kidnapping that little girl. Between finding that sick ass drawing of yours up at the Farm, the fact that you even decided to show your face back in these parts, and your, shall we say colorful history, you’re lucky somebody hasn’t already put a bullet in your head.”

Effin finally looked up at him. “And what do you think?”

“I think you’re one sick sonofabitch.” The deputy walked over to one of the desks and opened the top drawer. “I want to know what you’re doing back here.”

He pulled out a set of keys from the drawer and walked back over to the cell. He casually flipped through the ring, searching for the one to the cell door.

“I think the guilt of what you did all those years ago to that Beaumont boy has been eating you up. You came back here and took that girl, and then tried to make yourself look like a hero, so everyone would forgive you.”

Wilson backed away from the door. “I do not like the sound of this, Effin. He’s got that shoot first and ask questions later look in his eyes.”

The lock on the door clanked, and the deputy stepped inside. He had Effin by at least four inches and a good forty pounds of muscle. Inside the cell, he pulled the firing cartridge from the front of his taser and put it in his pocket. From a self-defense class Wilson talked him into taking, Effin knew the device couldn’t fire prongs with the cartridge, but it could still give a helluva shock up close.

“I want to know where the girl is, and maybe you’ll get out of this cell alive,” he said, stepping closer.

“I didn’t have anything to do with the girl disappearing,” Effin said. He stood up and moved as far away from the deputy as he could.

The deputy test fired the taser. Effin watched the spark of energy crackle between the two prongs and heard the crackle in the air. He remembered the guy from class who volunteered to take a charge from the taser. They shocked him in the arm, and he fell to the ground like a wet bag of sand, screaming like he was on fire and shaking. Effin didn’t volunteer back then, and he sure wasn’t looking to experience it now.

“Where’s Trip?” Effin asked, feeling the cold concrete blocks behind him. “He’s on his way back here.”

“Don’t worry,” the deputy said. “He won’t be back anytime soon. That gives you and me plenty of time to get to know each other.”

Effin looked away from the taser to the .45 semi-auto in the holster on the lawman’s opposite hip, the pepper spray next to that, and the expandable metal baton next to that. Even if he wrestled the taser away from him, the guy was trained for situations like this and could make him hurt in a number of ways. He looked for the name tag above his shirt pocket, but there wasn’t one. Another bad sign.

“Look, Deputy… what was your name again?” Effin asked.

“That isn’t any of your concern,” the man calmly answered.

Crap. This guy was looking to work him over. He probably figured Effin had the little girl hid someone around town. He was going to beat the information out of him and come out of this looking like the town hero. In a way, he didn’t blame the guy for wanting to save the girl, but Effin wasn’t going to be of any help.

“I’m going to cause a distraction and you jump this fool,” Wilson said, still standing beside the open cell door. “On three.”

“I don’t know anything about her,” Effin persisted, trying to reason with him. “I only came here to help.”

“One,” Wilson counted.

“You can help by telling me what you know.” The deputy stepped closer.

“Two.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” Effin pleaded.

“Three!”

Wilson jumped in front of the officer, waving his arms and screaming at the top of his lungs. The deputy didn’t flinch and walked right through him.

“We’ll see about that,” the deputy said.

“I hate when people do that,” Wilson said.

Before Effin could jump out of the way, he felt the taser connect with his side. He heard the crackle of the energy a split second before his side exploded in pain. It felt like liquid fire traveling through his veins as his knees buckled under him, and he hit the floor. The muscles in his jaw spasmed. It felt like he was underwater. He couldn’t even draw a breath. When the deputy pulled the taser away, Effin grabbed the bars of the cell to help keep him up.

“Effin? Are you okay?” Wilson bent down next to him. “Speak to me, buddy. I don’t know what to do.”

“You remembering anything yet?” the deputy asked.

Effin pulled himself back to his knees. “I didn’t take the girl,” he stammered.

As soon as the last word left his lips, Effin felt the taser jammed into his side again. Another dose of lightning ripped through his insides. He felt like he was going to pass out. He lost his grip of the bars and tumbled to the floor.

“It only gets worse from here,” the deputy snarled.

“Leave him alone,” Wilson yelled. “You walking pile of shit.”

Effin tried to pull himself up, but his arms refused to cooperate. He didn’t know how many more of those hits he could take. The jail cell was spinning around him when he felt the prongs bite into his neck.

“This one is just for me,” the deputy said.

It felt like someone hooked Effin’s brain up to a battery charger. He screamed, at least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t at that point. His eyelids fluttered, and he saw the guy step away from him smiling. It felt like he was watching the world through one of those old cartoons where some guy flipped the pages real fast. Wilson was punching and kicking at the deputy like a wild animal.

Effin figured that was it. He was going to die in that jail cell, and everyone in town was going to peg him as a murderer, and there was nothing he could do about it. His fingers tingled as he finally felt the ground under him. He wrestled back up to his knees. The deputy stood in front of the open cell door.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.

“That you’re a dick,” Wilson hissed.

The deputy grinned and held the taser up to his own neck. “You’d love to get up and send a thousand volts through me.”

Wilson came up beside him and reached for the weapon.

“All you need to do is get up,” he said. “I’ll give you a sporting chance.”

Wilson slid his hand over top of the deputy’s.

“I’d like to ram this thing up your nose,” Wilson said. “I’d squeeze until your eyes melted. Like this!”

Effin watched Wilson’s hand flex like he was pulling the trigger. The taser discharged, and Wilson jumped backwards in shock. Sparks flew around the deputy’s neck and his body convulsed. He stumbled, tripping over his own feet. His head cracked into the edge of the nearby desk and he hit the ground. Hard. Apart from the occasional twitch, the deputy laid motionless on the police station floor.

Effin pulled himself up on the bench.

“Did you just?”

Wilson looked down at his hands. “Did I just?”

The realization of what happened sank in. Wilson started doing a victory dance over top of the fallen man.

“Oh, yeah,” he yelled. “Don’t you come messing around with me and my boy, Effin. You just got punked, punk.”

Effin tested his legs. They were a little wobbly but functional. He looked down at the taser on the ground.

“It must have malfunctioned,” Effin said.

“Oh, no. Don’t you even try to take that one away from me,” Wilson said. “That was all me. One hundred percent Wilson.”

Effin bent down and picked up the taser. He wasn’t about to argue with him. Luck, fate, or whatever it was, it probably just saved his life.

“We need to get out of here,” Effin said.

“Effin?!”

He spun around to see Elle standing in the door. He looked down at the taser in his hand, and over at the fallen deputy, still twitching on the floor.

“Ummm… it’s not what it looks like,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing that one a lot lately,” she said. She looked down at the deputy. “Who is that?”

“Hell if know,” Effin answered. “One of your deputies.”

Elle bent down to get a closer look.

“He isn’t one of deputies that I’ve ever seen, and I know them all from Charlie’s.” She stood up and took a step back. “Wait a minute. I do know this guy. Him and some other guy were at the bar last night, sitting in the corner.”

“Who is he then?” Effin asked. He felt relieved he didn’t just assault an actual police officer, even if the guy had it coming. Still, that didn’t explain what the guy was doing there, or why he just attacked then.

“Tell her how I just saved your ass,” Wilson said. He pointed his finger in the air and made buzzing noises.

“Hell if I know,” she said. “That was the first time I’ve ever saw him in the bar. I figured he was just a gas-weller from out of town.”

It wasn’t making any sense. Why would some guy dress up as one of Trip’s deputies and come in there trying to pump information out of Effin about the missing girl? If he wasn’t a townie, then what business did he have in it? The bogus deputy started stirring.

“Maybe we should figure this out somewhere else,” Effin said.

“Good idea.” Elle looked down at the man. “How’d you do that, anyhow?”

Effin shrugged. “Just got lucky.”

“Lucky?” Wilson cried. “I put him down like a sack of potatoes, that’s what happened. Tell her, Effin. Effin?”

Wilson looked around. They were already walking outside. “Hey. Wait up.”

Effin and Elle stood on the front stoop of the sheriff’s office, looking down the street.

“Why’d you come here anyway? Effin asked.

“I told Trip I’d come down here and wait with you until he made it back,” she said. “You looked like you could use a friend right about now.”

“So, you don’t think I’m a monster?” he asked.

She laughed. “Monster? No. I knew that years ago. You’re not behind any of this, any more than I am. We both just have shitty luck.”

“Story of my life,” Effin said. “So, what now?”

“I think we need to get out of town,” Elle said. “At least until this all blows over.”

“But, what if we find Trip and tell him about the fake deputy back there?” Effin asked.

“Maybe later, let’s get you somewhere safe first,” she said.

Effin felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his neck.

“There ain’t nowhere safe for the likes of you, boy.”

He slowly turned around to come face to face with a man he hadn’t seen in over a decade, but someone he’d never forget. Judging from the hatred still burning in the man’s eyes, there was no way this was turning out good. He looked at Wilson.

All the emotion drained from his friend’s face. Wilson’s eyes filled with tears as he reached out for him.

“Dad?”

—19—

Rumors Mill Blues

There were times he wondered why he ever put on the badge. The long nights, the thankless work, the minimal pay. It was easy to forget what exactly pushed him into the family business? Trip drove the police cruiser under the last street light in town, heading back to the police station.

He called the search off for little Libby for the day. It was already dark when he made it back up to the tent after bringing Effin into town and locking him up at the station. The only real progress they made was finding the secret room in the old lab. They were already well passed the forty-eight-hour mark. The chances of getting her home alive grew slimmer by the hour. He couldn’t believe he failed her. He didn’t even know her. He took over the mantle of sheriff two years ago when his father had to step down. He still remembered what Wilson’s death did to his dad all those years ago, the countless hours of searching, of questioning people, spending months in those woods looking for answers and finding none. It changed him, forever.

Before that happened, his dad took the job with a grain of salt. He enjoyed what he did, helping people and being in charge. He always told Trip the job was cyclical. At the time, Trip had no idea what that meant, but his Dad told him they dealt with the same people time and time again, ten percent of the population ninety percent of the time. After Wilson’s death, that light faded from his father’s eyes. It was more of a job after that, a responsibility.

Trip figured Effin fell into that ten percent. Here they were a decade later, and he was still defending his friend against the death of a child. There was no way Effin had anything to do with Libby’s disappearance. He knew it looked bad, but he also knew Effin. The best thing he could do for his friend was lock him up. People could be easily influenced, and it didn’t take much for rumors to circulate through a town this size. He’d seen it happen before.

His cell phone rang. He glanced down at the screen. Hitting the speaker button on his steering wheel, he answered.

“Hey, hun.”

“You said you’d be home over an hour ago.”

Cathy was always patient when it came to his work, but even she had her limits.

“I know. I got held up at the search site. We… had a situation with one of the searchers.”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He should have known better. She always could read him like an open book. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“Okay. Any luck?”

“Not really, but we’re still working on it,” he said. “We may have found something, but it’s still too early.”

“TJ wants to say goodnight,” she said. “He tried waiting up for you, but he’s ready for bed.”

“Put him on.”

“Hi, Daddy.”

His voice immediately brightened Trip’s mood. He could picture his son on the other end of the line.

“Hey, little man. Mommy said you were waiting up for me?”

“Yeah. You promised we’d watch Super Time.”

“I know, buddy. Maybe tomorrow.”

Another broken promise added to a growing list. He hated not being there for his kids, but he hoped they understood. If not now, then maybe someday.

“Ok. Nite, daddy!”

“Nite, buddy. Tell your sister good night for me.”

“Ok.”

The screen on his phone went dark. He put it back in his pocket as he turned into the station parking lot. He wanted to check on Effin before he headed out to the community college to take a report of two college kids who hadn’t been seen since last night. The dormitory’s resident advisor called it in earlier today. It wasn’t that odd to have a couple of students disappear for a day or two, usually off on some type of drunken or drug-laden adventure. They always turned up.

Still, with everything going on, everyone’s nerves were a little tight, and taking a few extra precautions couldn’t hurt. The last thing he needed was for a story to hit the news about two more missing kids. Trip was sure they’d turn up by morning.

Walking up to the front door of the police station, Trip felt a tinge of guilt, leaving his friend locked up inside, but he knew it was for the best. What safer place to be than in a police station?

“Elle?”

The lights were out. He flipped the switch on the wall, but no one was there. One of his deputies was supposed to be there watching Effin. Elle had left the search site over an hour ago with a couple of the other searchers. She told him she was heading straight to the station when she made it back to town. There was only one road leading to the site. He’d have saw the car along the way if they ran into any mechanical problems. He walked back to the holding cell, only to find it empty too.

“Effin?”

Bending down, he saw traces of blood on the floor. He followed them up to one of the cell’s bars.

“What the hell happened here?”

He grabbed the radio on his belt.

“Deputy Hodgkins? This is Sheriff Daniels. What’s your 20?”

The radio was silent.

“Deputy Hodgkins? What’s your twenty?”

“Sir, this is Hodgkins. I’m at home. What’s happening?”

“You’re supposed to be down at the station watching a prisoner.”

“Sir? You sent me a message on the car’s computer and told me to disregard. Is there a problem?”

What in the Sam Hill was going on here? He never sent Hodgkins a message telling him not to come. Things were getting weird a little too fast.

“Get down to the station. Now!” He barked into the radio.

“Yes, sir.”

Somebody was messing with him, and he didn’t like it. This was a quiet town. He had every intention of keeping it that way.

—20—

What not to wear with

A Columbian Necktie

Twenty-four hours later and he’s right back where he started, in the alley behind Charlie’s Bar with someone looking to take his head off. Effin was on his knees with his hands behind his back. Wilson’s dad had rounded up his own little league of vigilante justice, and they decided to pay Effin a visit at the jail. The senior Beaumont seemed as surprised as Effin when they found him and Elle standing outside the police station.

Elle put up a fight, but their hunting rifles were a pretty convincing argument. All Effin wanted to do was get somewhere safe and tell Trip about the mystery deputy they left dumped in the holding cell. Maybe, he’d get a few answers of his own. Instead, he got a rifle butt in the back of his neck and a behind the scenes tour of several of the local business on their way to Charlie’s. It felt like a drum solo in the back of his head every time he tried to move.

At first, he thought they let Elle go and just took him along for the ride. That would’ve been pretty stupid of them, knowing she would just run off and find help. Then again, they probably figured their business with Effin would be over and done with before anyone had a chance to find them. One of the members of the drunk flannel patrol held her by the arms near the same dumpster Effin hid behind last night.

Wilson wasn’t handling the situation very well. Ever since he saw his dad, he’d kind of went off the deep end. He’s been yelling for him non-stop ever since the police station. Every time his dad didn’t answer, it seemed to upset him more.

“Dad? It’s me. It’s Wilson. Your son.”

Wilson paced back and forth between his dad and Effin. He’d stop and stare at his father, like he expected him to realize he was there. Effin didn’t like seeing him that way.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” Wilson said. “You don’t need to do this. You have to listen to me.”

Wilson’s dad kept his rifle trained on the back of Effin’s head. There were two other cronies behind him Effin didn’t recognize.

“Mr. Beaumont, you can’t do this. Effin didn’t kill your boy. Please,” Elle pleaded.

“I know what I know, girl. I was there.” He glanced over at her before focusing back on Effin. “You’re going to pay for what you did to my son.”

“But I didn’t—”

The senior Beaumont flipped his rifle around in his hands and cracked the butt of the gun against Effin’s skull. His world flipped upside down, at least that’s the way it looked as he tumbled head over heels across the alley. When he finally stopped, his back was against the garbage dumpster. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He felt something oozing down the side of his face.

“Come on, Dad,” Wilson pleaded. “I’m right here. Don’t you see me?”

“What are you going to do? Kill us both?” Elle threw an elbow into the gut of the guy holding her.

He grunted, but his beer muscles held strong.

“No. Just him.” Mr. Beaumont turned the rifle around and drew the sights back on Effin. Tears streamed down the older man’s cheeks. His hands shook, barely holding the gun’s stock still.

“Dad? I’m sorry. Okay.” Wilson was in tears. “I’ll clean my room. Don’t be mad.”

Even with the end of his own life appearing imminent, Effin couldn’t help but feel sorry for Wilson. In another minute, neither one of them would be feeling much of anything. Maybe they could haunt their hometown together. He wondered if it was fate. He’d been running from his past for years, but for some reason he was drawn back to that town, back to the same people who all despised him. And for what? To help find some little girl he’d never met before? Who was she to him?

“You got any last words? Not that I really care to hear them,” Mr. Beaumont said as he chambered a fresh round into the rifle.

“I’m sorry,” Effin said. “I’m sorry your son died.”

Staring down the barrel of his own death, Effin almost felt relieved. At least the nightmares would finally be over. He looked at Wilson, who stopped rambling long enough to meet his stare.

“I’m sorry, Wilson.”

Bringing the rifle up to his shoulder, he leaned into the sights. His finger hovered on the trigger.

Three things happened pretty much all at once. Wilson jumped in between Effin and his father waving his arms in a last-ditch effort to stop him. Something else jumped out of the shadows and slammed into the old man, knocking him backwards. And lastly, the gun discharged just as Effin closed his eyes. There was nowhere for him to go. He heard the bullet strike the dumpster behind him. The impact against the hollow container rang in his ears, damn near shattering his ear drum.

He rolled clear and tried to crawl away.

“Dad!” Wilson screamed, running over to his father. The man fell to ground in a heap, dropping the rifle to his side. Blood poured from the open wound on his neck.

Whatever attacked him had ripped his throat wide open. Wilson held his hands over his dad’s neck, but the blood poured through them. Mr. Beaumont’s friends just stood there, looking at one another.

“The hell with this,” one finally said.

Letting go of Elle, the other man followed his friends as they all sprinted down the alley back towards town.

Effin sat there, trying to regain his bearings. Wilson hovered over his dad. He looked helpless standing over the bleeding old man.

“Effin?” He looked back at his friend. “Help me. Please.”

“Yeah. But he just tried to… he was about to…” Effin forced himself up from the ground. “I’m coming.”

“We need to put pressure on it,” Elle said. “I’ll call 911.”

Effin pulled off his top t-shirt and bent down next to the senior Beaumont. The slices in his throat looked like an animal attacked him. He folded his shirt and pushed it down against the man’s neck. He didn’t know much about emergency medicine, only what he watched on TV. Other than keeping his shirt in place, he didn’t really know what else to do.

“What the hell just happened,” Effin asked.

“I don’t know.” Elle stood beside them. “It moved so fast, and it came out of nowhere.”

“Dad? I love you, dad,” Wilson wept.

“Wilson?” Mr. Beaumont opened his eyes. His face looked pale.

Something growled from the shadows near the dumpster. Effin spun around and stared into the dark.

“Whatever it is, I think it’s still here,” Effin whispered.

They all stopped, almost like someone hit the pause button in the alley. Him and Elle stared at whatever was lurking behind the dumpster. Claws scraped against the concrete as it paced back and forth. He thought about the thing that attacked him back at the farm, but how did it get all the way into town? It stopped shuffling, and Effin locked onto the pair of glowing red eyes staring back at him.

“Effin?” Elle eased behind him. “What the hell is that?”

“Just stay behind me,” Effin said, looking around for something to protect them. Mr. Beaumont’s rifle was on the ground at his feet. Using his free hand, he grabbed the gun’s shoulder strap and dragged it over to him. He fumbled with the rifle, trying to get it to his shoulder with one hand.

“Dad? Can you hear me?” Wilson asked.

“Wilson? Is that really you?”

Elle grabbed the rifle from Effin. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“Sorry,” Effin scoffed. “The only hunting I do is for the nearest fast food.”

Elle braced the butt of the gun against her shoulder and pointed it towards the dumpster. She worked the action, chambering another round.

“It must be a mountain cat,” she said. “I’ve seen them attack someone like that before.”

“Dad! It’s me. It’s your boy,” Wilson said. He bent down next to his father and sobbed.

“I miss you, son.”

“I miss you too.”

Whatever was behind the dumpster, it growled again, louder and angrier. A siren was approaching from the distance. It sounded like it was in front of the building. The last thing Effin wanted was for a couple paramedics to come rushing into the alley and get attacked.

“Are you going to shoot it or what?” Effin asked.

“I’ve never actually shot anything before,” Elle said. “It’s not really hurting anyone, at this point. Maybe we could just catch it?”

“Catch it?” Effin asked. “It just sliced open Wilson’s Dad, and the ambulance people will be here any second.” Effin reached for the rifle. “Here. I’ll do it.”

“No. I got it.”

Elle leaned into the sights. Her finger squeezed the trigger.

“Wait! Stop. Mein Gott, please stop.”

A man rushed towards them from the behind the bar, waving his arms frantically. Elle lowered the barrel of the rifle as the little man stopped between her and whatever was still growling at them from the dumpster. His head was bleeding.

“Do not shoot,” he said. “She doesn’t mean any harm. She’s just afraid.”

“Afraid of who?” Effin asked.

“Of everyone,” the man stammered. “She’s just a frightened little girl… my little girl.”

“Who are you?” Elle asked. “Dr. Callus?”

“Da. I am her father,” the man said. He pointed to the dumpster. “She is my sweet Anna, and she needs my help.”

Wilson’s dad fell unconscious as Wilson stroked his head.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Wilson said. “You’re going to be okay.”

A radio crackled from out in the street, followed by two doors slamming shut.

“Unit 3’s on scene. We’re heading behind the bar.”

Effin could see the lights of the ambulance reflecting along the walls of the alley.

“Somebody needs to warn those guys,” Effin said. He grabbed the rifle from Elle.

The old man approached the dumpster with his arms outstretched, still trying to catch his breath.

“Anna, come to Papa,” he said. “It’s time to come home.”

In a blur of motion, Anna jumped out from the shadows, knocking her father down as she bounded down the alley towards the street. Effin didn’t even have time to raise the rifle to his shoulder.

“What the hell?” One of the paramedics yelled. “Terry, watch out.”

Dr. Callus ran after her.

“Anna!”

Effin took off after him. For such a little guy, he pushed his way passed the two paramedics in the alley. One of the men clutched his shoulder. Effin saw tear in his uniform. They both froze when they saw Effin coming towards them with a rifle in his hands.

“Whoa, buddy. We’re just here to help,” one said.

“What?” Effin looked down at the gun. He lowered the barrel. “Sorry, guys! Surprisingly, I’m not the problem here, for a change,” he said, stopping in front of them.

“What the hell was that thing?” the paramedic holding his shoulder asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Effin answered. He waved for them to follow him back behind the bar. “We need you back here. Someone had their throat cut open.”

They followed him back behind the bar. As soon as they saw Wilson’s father, they went to work on him. Effin was impressed. Even with his own shoulder bleeding, the paramedic dropped beside Mr. Beaumont and stripped away Effin’s makeshift bandage, opening up the kit they brought with them. Someone screamed from the front of the bar. Effin looked at Elle.

“We’ve got to go after them,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“But… Mr. Beaumont,” she said.

“We can’t do anything else for him. These guys will take care of him,” Effin said. Whatever attacked them could be the key behind the missing girl, and maybe even be tied into Effin’s own day back at the Farm. Those scratch marks on the senior Beaumont looked all too familiar, and those red eyes are the same ones that had haunted his dreams for years. He wasn’t about to let those answers get away.

“Okay. I’m coming,” she said.

“Wilson,” Effin shouted. His friend stayed frozen next to the paramedics working on his dad. “Wilson!”

“Effin?” His friend finally looked up at him. “I can’t,” he said. “I can’t leave him again.”

As much as he wanted his friend to come along, he couldn’t really blame him. It had been one hell of a reunion, but Effin couldn’t waste time waiting for him to come around.

He and Elle took off down the alley, back towards the street. The lights from the ambulance parked in front of the bar momentarily blinded him. He stopped to get his bearings. It’d been too many years since he roamed the streets of town. It seemed foreign to him.

Elle bumped his arm and pointed to something in the middle of the road. The crumpled figure of a man lay motionless against the asphalt. They rushed towards him. Effin was a few strides ahead of her, but he  slowed down when he realized who it was.

“Floyd!”

—21—

Every bottle has a bottom

He should be getting closer. Effin was running at a full sprint, or at least that’s what his legs told him. Instead, for every step he took closer to his friend, it seemed he was that much farther away. The years washed away as soon as he saw Floyd on the sidewalk in front of Charlie’s Bar. They were ten years old, back in the woods just outside the old lab all over again. He was frozen with fear, standing inside a makeshift wooden fort, listening to his friends fighting for the lives.

Elle brushed by him. He was stopped in the middle of the street, watching her drop down beside Floyd and brush back his tangled hair. He saw the claw marks raked down the front of Floyd’s jacket. Blood poured out of the wound. She looked back at Effin and screamed something, he couldn’t make out the words. Maybe it was just another one of his nightmares. Any minute, he’d wake up and Lefty would leave him a new souvenir, like the artists who make funny caricature of you at the amusement park. Only Lefty’s came straight out of hell.

“Effin! Would you come on?” Elle yelled again. “I need a hand.”

He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood from Wilson’s dad. The town held nothing but death for him. He realized that then. He’d never make it out of there alive.

“Effin! I need you,” she screamed.

Suddenly, somebody started time again. He felt the chill in the air. He saw the hint of the full moon lurking behind the grey clouds looming above him. If this damn place was determined to swallow him whole, he’d fight it all the way down.

Running across the street, the sight of Floyd’s gaping chest wound looked even worse up close. Elle was trying to control the bleeding the best she could, but there was too much damage for her to stop it all. He sat down next to Floyd and ran his hand across his friend’s forehead. The sweat on his skin felt oily, and the whites of his eyes were almost pink.

“Easy there, buddy,” Effin said. “We got you.”

“Effin? Is that you?” Floyd’s voice was barely audible, but he turned toward him. “It really is you. Elle said you were coming back to town.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Effin said. “Hang in there, Floyd. There’s an ambulance just across the street.”

Floyd coughed and blood poured from the corner of his mouth. He reached up and grabbed Effin’s arm.

“This would probably hurt a lot worse if I wasn’t shit faced,” he said, laughing between the spurts of blood coming out of his mouth.

Effin couldn’t help but chuckle. No matter the situation, Floyd was always good for comic relief. He looked back across the street, hoping one of the paramedics would come out of the alley with Mr. Beaumont. The revolving lights on top the ambulance swirled in eerie silence.

“Hey! We need some help out here,” he yelled. Maybe they could hear him. He reached into his back pocket for his phone, but Floyd stopped him.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Floyd said.

“Just try to stay still and conserve your strength,” Effin said. He nodded at Elle, who pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

“It came back.” Floyd pulled him closer. “It came back for us.”

“Just hang in there, pal,” Effin said. He tried to prop Floyd’s head up and pressed his hand against his chest to help slow down the bleeding.

“I saw it, that day back at the Farm,” Floyd said, coughing up another pint. “I saw what killed Wilson.”

Effin knew he should say something, anything, to try and comfort his friend, but all he could do was listen.

“I was too afraid to say anything, Effin. They would have thought I was crazy… like you. I should have done something, tried to save Wilson, but I couldn’t move. I was so scared.”

Elle pulled the phone away from her ear.

“I got a hold of 911. They’re going to radio the paramedics and get another ambulance out here. Hold on, Floyd,” she said.

Floyd laughed. “I’ve been holding on for years, drowning my fears in the bottle. I don’t think I can hold on no more.”

Elle bent down next to Floyd and took his hand in hers, gently stroking the back of it. He had a piece of black fabric in his hand that he gripped so tight, his knuckles were white.

“What’s in his hand?” Effin asked.

“I don’t know,” Elle said. “Just some piece of rag.”

Floyd smiled at her, a genuine warm smile only shared between friends. He turned to Effin.

“It wasn’t you, Effin,” he said. “They all blamed you, but it wasn’t you.” He began to sob.

“It’s okay,” Effin said. “I forgive you.”

“I should have spoke up, said something. I could have at least saved you, but all I could see were those glowing red devil eyes from back in the woods.”

Effin heard a siren in the distance. He knew they were already too late.

“You were a good pal, Floyd,” he said, rubbing his friend’s shoulder.

“So were you.”

Floyd grabbed Effin by the wrist and squeezed so hard it hurt. Effin wanted to pull away from him, but he resisted.

“Be careful, Effin,” he said. “It’s still after us. The devil is out there.”

He leaned in closer. Floyd drew in a gasp of air before dying in Effin’s arms. Effin could feel his friend’s last breath on his face as he softly exhaled. He fought back the tears and looked away. Elle’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Effin,” she said.

“That’s two friends that thing has taken away from me,” he said. “I’m not stopping until whatever it is, devil, monster, or demon, is lying in a pool of its own blood.”

The distinctive sound of a round being chambered echoed behind them. Effin spun around to find himself in the sights of the town sheriff, standing in front of his police cruiser.

“This is the second body I’ve found you next to,” Trip said. “There’s not going to be another.”

Elle jumped up and rushed towards him.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said. “Something attacked Floyd. Effin was trying to help.”

Trip didn’t budge. Effin saw the look in his eye and figured there was a fifty-fifty chance he may end up next to Floyd any moment.

“All I know is that as soon as he came back, this whole town went to hell,” Trip said. “I heard the call on the radio about old man Beaumont being attacked by some animal behind Charlie’s. Is that what you want me to think this is, Elle? Some kind of damn wild cat attacking everyone?”

“I don’t know what it is, but I know this is as much as my home as it is yours,” she said, before pointing back to Effin. “The same as it used to be his home until we all kicked him out of it.” Elle grabbed the end of Trip’s shotgun and pointed it to the ground. “I trust him, Trip. Do you trust me?”

“I… I don’t know who to trust,” he said.

“Trust your friends,” she said, looking back at Effin and Floyd.

The three of them stood there in mutual silence. Effin looked down at Floyd. He seemed almost peaceful, the fear washed away his face. He brushed his hand over his face, closing his eyes. There’d be no more monsters chasing him. His nightmare was over.

“But how’d he get from the jail to here,” Trip protested.

“Mr. Beaumont brought us here by gun point,” Elle said.

“Yeah, I kind of figured something like that,” Trip admitted.

“And unless you just hired a new deputy, some guy in one of your uniforms tried to kill Effin back in his cell,” Emi added.

“What?” Trip looked to Effin for confirmation.

“Guy was a total whack job,” Effin added.

“There’s something weird going on around here,” Trip said.

“That’s the understatement of the year.” Elle pointed to the alley as the two paramedics wheeled Mr. Beaumont out on a stretcher.

Wilson hovered over his dad as they put him in the back of the ambulance. It was weird but, Effin felt worried he may never see his friend again.

“What happened to him?” Trip asked.

“Some kind of animal attacked him. We both saw it,” Effin said.

“What kind of animal?” Trip asked.

“I don’t know,” Elle said. “But I know someone who might.”

“Who?” Trip turned to look at her.

“The weird guy from the diner. He used to work up at the research facility,” she said.

“Dr. Callus?” Trip asked.

“Any idea where we can find him?” Effin gently let go of Floyd and stood up.

Trip pointed at his police cruiser. “He’s in the back of my car.”

“What?” Effin and Elle asked in chorus.

“I found him running down one of the side roads like a mad man, yelling for someone named Anna. I figured the rest of the town went crazy, so he might as well too.”

Effin saw the doctor weeping in the back seat of Trip’s police car. The window was cracked just enough to give him some air. The little man looked broken, like someone had just cut the last string holding onto his sanity. He’d have felt more sorry for him if there wasn’t a chance he had something to do with all this.

Trip motioned for them both to stop.

“Hold on. I need to talk to the paramedics and make sure they have someone else coming for Floyd.” He pointed at Elle. “Do not talk to him until I get back. Understood?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said.

As soon as Trip was safely out of ear shot, she walked up to the window. She waved Effin over. What the hell? He’d already been thrown in jail once that day. He figured he didn’t have much else to lose.

“Dr. Callus?” Elle softly asked, leaning closer to the window. “Dr. Callus, who’s Anna?”
He turned toward them, grabbing the top ledge of the window. His eyes looked like two blank slates.

“Anna? Where is my Anna?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Effin said. “That’s what we’re asking you.”

“She is my tocht… my daughter,” he said.

“That thing is your daughter?” Elle asked, louder than she probably intended.

“Not always a thing,” he said. “Once we were a family.”

“I thought bartenders were good at listening to people.” Effin nudged Elle out of the way. “Excuse me, Heir Doctor?”

“Really?” Elle raised her eyebrows.

“How many times do you really get to say that?” Effin asked, shrugging his shoulders. “Where is Anna? We need to find her.”

“Where?” The doctor repeated.

“Yes. Where is she going?” Effin asked.

“Home,” he said. “She will return home.”

“Back to your house?” Elle chimed in.

“No. Not back to house,” the doctor said. “Back to the lab. She’ll go back to the lab.”

—22—

Mamma said knock you out

Everyone hated her. They hated her, and they wanted to hurt her. Kill her.

Anna, or what was left of the girl they once called Anna, crept through the back yards of town, sneaking through the lives of the people she was raised to fear. It wasn’t always that way. She remembered a time, just barely, when her life was something different, better. At night, when she dreamed, she remembered someone else in her life, other than Papa. A woman who smelled like flowers.

Something hissed at her, and Anna leapt behind some bushes. The little creature stared at her with slanted green eyes, crouched beside a potted plant. The hair on its arched back stood on end. She could smell the fear as it sat there watching her. It hated her too.

She growled, watching it run across the yard to the safety of a nearby tree. The leaves rustled as it climbed higher and higher. A light turned on in the house next to her. It was bright, hurting her eyes. Papa told her to stay away from people. They wouldn’t understand her, wouldn’t love her the way Papa did. Still, she was young and curious, and the world outside of the basement held so many wonders. The tastes and smells were hypnotic. She scaled a wooden trestle up to the second floor of the house, creeping across the porch roof before finally stopping in front of a window. Peeking through the glass, a small girl was inside, playing in her room.

The girl jumped on her bed, laughing with each bounce. Anna stared at the blankets and pillows, so much softer than the one’s she made back at her special place in the woods. The girl held a doll in her arms, spinning it around in carefree circles. Anna heard the music streaming from a small box near her bed. She listened to the melody, like Papa’s music box, but different. It sparked a memory in her, back in the house where Anna grew up, back when she didn’t have to sleep on the concrete floor in the basement. The woman, the one who smelled like flowers, spun her around a room just like that one. Echoes of laughter whispered in her ears. She remembered them laughing, and the flower lady singing words to her as they spun. Curling up against the roof shingles, she leaned against the window sill, lost in the comfort of her memories.

She remembered a cake and flames dancing on top of it, like they were stars in the sky pulled down just for her. Papa was there and the woman from her dreams. They sang to her and cheered as the woman pulled a box from under the table. It was the brightest colors she had ever seen, and it made her heart thump inside her chest.

She tore into the wrapping paper. Inside was another surprise, a stuffed bear. She called him Truman, and from that day on, they were inseparable. She played with him, slept with him, even took him to school. He was the best friend she ever had, that was until her world plunged from happiness into pain. A fresh set of images filled Anna’s head, ones of tubes and wires and needles. Papa was still there, but his smile was gone. She never saw the flower woman again. Her dreams became nightmares, ones she never woke up from.

The girl playing inside her room squealed. Anna watched her jump from her bed, swinging her own version of Truman in circles across the floor. She danced in front of a full-length mirror, and Anna saw her own reflection staring back at her. Dirty, matted fur covered her face, clinging in patches against her shoulders. Papa didn’t allow mirrors in their house. He removed them all years ago. The only time Anna saw herself was when the rain water seeped into the basement and formed puddles on the floor.

Anna touched her face. She didn’t recognize the monster staring back at her. Too many nightmares. Too much pain.

The little girl screamed. Anna froze as the two of them locked eyes. She held her finger to her lips to quiet the girl, like she’d seen Papa do when she howled sometimes at night. She tried to remember how to smile, how to be a girl, like the one staring back at her. Anna placed her palm against the glass, and the girl’s cries stopped. Slowly, carefully, the girl crossed the room and stopped at the glass, placing her own hand against the window. They stayed like that, hand to hand, trying to figure out just what the other was. A feeling rushed back to Anna, one so buried she had forgotten it was ever there. Maybe Papa was wrong about people.

The door to the bedroom flew open. A man and woman rushed inside. The woman saw Anna, pointed and screamed.

“Allie! Get away from the window,” she yelled. “Come to Mommy.”

The man held something in his hand, something shiny. He pointed it towards the window and thunder shot from his hand. The glass between them shattered. Anna’s shoulder exploded in pain. It reminded her of being back at the lab. She slid off the roof and plummeted down to the grass below.

“What the hell was that?” the man yelled. “Call 911.”

Pain. It swept over her entire body. She looked down. Her arm was leaking. It soaked into her fur and smelled like metal. She knew she needed to get away, to run, but her legs didn’t want to work. Clawing across the lawn, Anna pulled herself towards the alley behind a small shed.

She rolled into a ball, trying to make the pain go away. The hated her. All of them. She just wanted them to go away.

She heard footsteps approaching in the grass. She was too afraid to look up. Someone stood over her, watching.

“Looks like this just isn’t your night, freak show.”

***

Denton couldn’t believe his luck. He figured he’d lost the she-beast blocks ago. Damn thing moved so fast there was no way he was keeping up with it. He almost let the only chance of salvaging this whole disaster slip through his fingers. When he heard the screams, he figured he was heading in the right direction. The gunfire confirmed it. What he didn’t expect was to find the thing lying in a heap on the ground just waiting for him to come along and collect it.

“If you even so much as twitch, I’m blowing your head clean off,” Denton said.

He didn’t know if it understood a single word he was saying, but he really didn’t care either. All he needed to do was finish it off and bring the body back into town. People needed answers, and the more bizarre, the better. One look at that monster, and it’d get blamed for every death short of the Kennedy assassination. He’d get away with the whole damn thing. Denton chambered a fresh round into the rifle just as a precaution.

The jumble of hair and blood at his feet shifted. He took a step back. He’d already seen how fast that thing was back in the old man’s basement. He needed to be ready for anything. It raised its head and stared blankly at him. He expected to look into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Instead, all he saw was a frightened girl. He lowered the barrel to his side. She whimpered in pain, lying on the ground.

Standing there, in some stranger’s back yard in the middle of the night, bleeding, tired, and cold, Denton wanted it to be over. He needed it to be over. He’d killed two of the only people in his life that ever called him a friend, and then covered it up without remorse. The monster that he hoped was his key out of that whole mess turned out to be nothing more than a scared little girl with some kind of glandular condition. Anyone who looked in her eyes would figure that out. He knew what he needed to do.

Bracing the butt of the rifle against his shoulder, Denton took aim.

“Sorry, bitch, but it’s you or me,” he said. “And I didn’t come this far to quit at the finish line.”

Sliding off the safety, he felt his finger wrap around the trigger. One shot to the head would be all it’d take. It wasn’t much different than when he watched his father put down one of the family dogs. Unlike his father, Denton decided it would be better if he closed his eyes.

“Target secured!”

He heard the voice a split second before someone slammed into his shoulder, forcing him to the ground. The rifle flew out of his hands, tumbling across the yard. He tried to scream, but he ended up with a mouth full of grass as he hit the lawn. They forced his arms behind his back. He heard the metal click of handcuffs tighten around his wrists.

“Zulu-2, this is Mother Goose. Advise.”

“We have the boy. The target got away,” the man said, pinning Denton to the ground.

“What do you mean, she got away?”

Denton heard the crackle of a radio. Whoever was on the other end of the conversation definitely wasn’t happy. He twisted to his side and saw the bloody spot in the grass where the girl-beast was a minute before.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, flipping him onto his back. The first thing he noticed was the red dots dancing across his chest. The guy towering over him was dressed in all black fatigues. He looked lean, but powerful as he glared down at Denton. It wasn’t until the man moved under a motion light in the yard that he noticed the yellow tint to his eyes and the pointed ears jutting out from under his head wrap. The man sneered at him, his glistening white fangs shining in the night.

“Oh, shit,” Denton whimpered.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” the man said, turning the rifle around in his hands.

“What the hell are you?” Denton asked. In the outline of the moon above them, Denton saw another figure crawling across the roof of the house with an almost feline agility. It gracefully dropped down into the yard and walked toward them.

Denton looked back at the first guy just as the butt of his rifle made contact with his forehead.

The lights, the grass, the figures in black, all swirled together as Denton’s head spun around, and he felt everything going dark.

One of the men spoke into a walkie talkie.

“We’ll be returning to base,” he said. “Operation Clean Your Plate is a go.”

—23—

Callus Relief

“Do you have enough room back there,” Elle asked, looking through the partition of Trip’s police car.

Effin twisted his legs to the side to give his knees a little more room. “I’m good. As good as riding in the back of a police car can get.”

“They weren’t built for comfort,” Trip added from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, you’ve said that once or twice already,” Effin quipped. “I’m racking up some serious frequent flyer miles.”

The old man sitting opposite Effin was still weeping, mostly to himself. He felt bad for the guy, but didn’t really know what to say to him. Sorry your daughter is a creature of the night didn’t sound real appropriate. He’d had more than his own share of strange over the years, hell, his best friend was a ghost. What right did he have to judge anyone else? Effin wondered if Wilson was still with his father and oddly enough, he was worried he may never see him again. He’d grown sort of comfortable always having him by his side. He wondered if that’s what separated twins felt.

“Doctor Callus?” Elle’s fingers wrapped around the small window. “Doctor?”

“Ya,” he finally answered. His eyes met hers as he wiped a considerable amount of snot onto the sleeve of his shirt.

“That thing… I mean girl,” Elle said. “That’s really your daughter?”

His head rested against the window as he searched the yards and alleys as they passed. “She is my everything. My Anna.”
“But how? I mean, she died years ago with your wife in the… the—” Elle caught herself and stopped.

“The accident,” the doctor finished. “Da, that is what everyone thought.”

Trip cut in. “Not what we thought, what we knew. My dad was there that day. He’s told me that story a hundred times since. Your car went off the bridge into the river during a storm. You were the only one they found. My dad dredged that river for weeks looking for your wife and girl. You’re saying that she survived? How?”

The doctor’s whole body tensed at the mention of the accident. His hand shook against his leg. He let out a long breath before he continued.

“That night at the river,” he said. “My Debbie and little Anna came to see me at the lab. My hours, they were always so late. They brought me dinner, pot roast. I still remember it so clearly.”

The doctor paused and stared out the window, watching the sky pass above them.

“Doctor?” Elle asked.

“Da? Yes, that night,” he said. “They convinced me to come home with them. Anna was having trouble sleeping. I drove the van, but I was so tired, too many hours in the lab, perfecting my research. I dosed off, on the bridge, and the next thing I remembered was the rush of water flooding into the van.”

“But you escaped?” Effin asked.

“I pulled Debbie out. She was holding Anna in her arms. Anna’s coat snagged on something in the van. Debbie would not let her go. My hand slipped from hers, and they were gone, lost in those dark waters.”

“But then, how did she survive?” Elle’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Debbie? I never found her, but somehow she managed to free our Anna.”

“So why did you hide her all these years.” Trip seemed almost angry at the doctor. “Do you have any idea what that did to my dad? Not finding them haunted him for years.”

“I found Anna near the shore. She wasn’t breathing. I tried everything I could, but she wouldn’t come back to me. That’s when I thought of my research, the same thing that had cost me so much time away from my family was the only way I could give her a second chance.”

“You brought her back from the dead?” Effin didn’t mean to sound that blunt, but it just blurted out. It wasn’t exactly something that came up in casual conversation.

“Dead? Not exactly.”

“And what exactly was the work you were doing?” Trip asked.

“Gene splicing, Sheriff. We were performing ground breaking research in the field of animal and human genome manipulation,” the doctor answered.

“But I still don’t understand,” Elle cut in. “How did that help your daughter?”

“By combining her DNA with that of several compatible species, Anna was able to regenerate damaged tissues and repair her own injuries. She came back to me for a short time, but then she became something… else.”

“What exactly did she become?” Effin pushed.

“Something more in way…but also something less,” he said.

Someone screamed in the distance. Trip slowed the cruiser down and pulled to the side of the road. A few seconds later, a gunshot echoed.

“What the hell?” Trip threw the car in reverse. He darted down one of the side streets, listening for any other signs of a disturbance.

Effin braced himself against the door as the good doctor tumbled across the seat and slid into him, bringing the two uncomfortably close. It smelled like the doctor hadn’t showered in a week. Effin none too gently pushed him back to his own side.

“Sorry, mein friend,” he said.

Effin leaned forward. “A heads up before you go into pursuit mode would be nice back here.”

“That was a gunshot,” Trip said, winding the car through a set of back alleys before screeching to a stop. “And it was close. I need to check it out.”

The cruiser’s radio chirped as a female voice blared out.

“Chief! We got a shots fired call over on Hickory. What’s your 20?”

Trip grabbed the mike. “I’m already on scene. I’ll be out of the car. Get me on my portable if you get an update.”

“Copy that. It’s Phil Henderson who called in. He said someone was creeping around their house. No history of domestics there.”

“Copy.”

Elle opened her door. Trip grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back in the car.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“With you. To help,” she said, pulling away from him and getting out of the car.

Trip jumped out and ran around the front of the cruiser, stopping her near her door.

Effin tried his door handle, but it wouldn’t open. “Hey, someone let me out, huh?”

Trip flipped open the door handle from the outside. Effin joined his friends at the front of the car. The cruiser’s headlights shined on their legs, and the swirling lights on top the car were dizzying in the night.

“I need to go,” Trip said, heading for the nearest yard. “I don’t have time to argue. Elle, you need to stay with the doctor. We don’t need him running around town any more. Effin, you’re with me.”

Effin gave Elle a half-assed salute and took off after Trip. He caught up to him funneling down a sidewalk between two houses. For a cop with all that gear on, Effin was surprised how fast the guy could move.

“You just wanted to keep me close to keep an eye on me again,” Effin said as they stopped to open a back gate.

Trip flipped open the latch. “That, and to keep Elle safe.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Effin said. “Shouldn’t we be running away from the gun fire?”

“Comes with the job.” Trip slowed down and put his hand on Effin’s chest. “The house is still a couple yards over. With all the freaky shit going on around here, I didn’t want to just pull up to the front. I’m going up to the street. You stay back here.”

“Got it.” Effin started across the yard. Trip grabbed his arm.

“If you see anything back here, you yell for me. Got it?” Trip waited until Effin looked him in the eye.

“Do I at least get a gun?” Effin asked.

Trip hesitated, only for a moment, but long enough to tell Effin he still didn’t entirely trust him. He really couldn’t blame him. Trip dropped down and pulled his backup revolver from a holster around his ankle. He handed it to Effin.

“You ever shoot a gun before?” he asked.

“Do first person shooter video games count?”

Trip turned the gun to the side and pointed to a switch. “That’s the safety. Flip it up when you’re ready to fire. Keep your finger out of the trigger until you’re ready. Only shoot when you’re sure.”

Effin took the gun. It felt heavy in hand. He tucked it into his waistband.

“Don’t shoot your balls off, huh?” Trip took off running towards the front of the house.

“Gee, thanks.”

And then Effin was alone, standing in someone’s backyard with a gun in his pants. He suddenly realized how dark it was. He also realized he wasn’t alone back there. Someone was watching him. Someone who probably had their own gun and wasn’t as afraid to use it.

He crouched down near a tire swing under a big willow tree. All he wanted to do was help, find the little girl, and get her home safe. He wasn’t expecting the whole trip to turn into some demented roller coaster ride that ended with him bleeding out in some stranger’s backyard. He could still just walk away, get back to his truck and forget all about that place. He’d done it once before.

Someone yelled, and Effin popped back up. It came from the next yard over, the same direction Trip just ran toward.

“Trip?” Effin kept his voice low, heading towards a large hedge that separated the yards. “Trip?”

Creeping along the bushes, Effin found a thin spot in the hedge and wedged himself through the brush. He paused on the other side, using it for camouflage. Two guys were standing in the yard, one of them pointing his rifle at a some guy on the ground. The guys with the rifles were dressed in all black and looked almost military. The kid on the ground, he looked to be in his early twenties. It looked like he was out cold. Effin saw a hunting rifle on the ground next to him.

“I’m still waiting for that bus. We don’t have all night.” One of the men barked into a microphone on his shoulder.

Effin started inching his way back through the hedge. Whatever was going on back there looked way beyond his skill set. That was Trip’s area of expertise. He’d know what to do. The guy on the ground started moving.

“Uhhh… what happened?”

Camo-guy pointed his rifle at him. “You just had to come to, didn’t you?”

Effin froze. They were going to blow a hole in that guy, and Trip was going to come running back there with guns blazing and get jumped. He couldn’t just hide in the bushes and watch that happen.

He fumbled with the revolver, pulling it out of his waistband. Flipping off the safety, he paused. Hero wasn’t exactly part of his vocabulary. He left that up to the professionals, but there were times in everyone’s life they had choices to make. Aunt Gertie taught him that. He raised the gun and drew down on the two men in black as he emerged from the hedge.

“Hold on, now,” he said. Dammit. He meant that to sound tougher. “I mean, freeze. Both of you.”

Both men stopped and turned to face him. They kept their rifles trained on the ground. One of them raised his hand up to his shoulder. They looked anything but nervous.

“Easy, slick,” he said. “No one needs to get hurt here.”

Effin eased his way across the yard. The way these two were dressed, Effin guessed it wasn’t the first time they stared the wrong way down the barrel of a gun. He needed to tune into his full alpha-male mode to keep the upper hand here. And it sounded kind of stupid, but he really hated being called Slick.

“Help me.” The guy on the ground pled.

In a flash, one of military guys flipped their rifle over and smashed it into the kid’s face. He fell silently back to the lawn.

The guy grinned, and then looked back to Effin.

“Like I was saying. Nobody else needs to get hurt,” he said.

“Except the guy you just gave brain damage.” Effin pointed the gun at their heads.

“Collateral damage,” the one said. They both chuckled. It sent a shiver up Effin’s spine.

“Look, just don’t move, and we won’t have to find out if I can hit anything or not.” Effin turned towards the front yard. “Trip! I need you back here.”

He didn’t even get turned back around before the first fist connect with his jaw. It felt like the guy had a brick in his glove. His knees buckled, and the next thing he knew he was tasting grass as someone’s boot pushed into the back of his neck. He tried to get up, but he was pinned to the lawn.

“Just dose him, and we’ll take him with us,” one of them said.

Where the next move came from, Effin couldn’t say for sure. Maybe it was the pent of adrenalin from the crazy day he was having, or maybe taking a shot to the face just pissed him off, but he swung his legs around and caught the guy right behind the knees. He fell lack of sack of bricks right on top of Effin.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, Effin returned the favor by punching the guy square in the jaw. His knuckles immediately regretted it. It felt like he just punched a concrete block. The guy winced in pain, their faces inches away from each other. When he opened his eyes, Effin nearly shit himself.

Where his eyes should have been, his normal eyes, were two green, almost luminescent cat eyes staring back at him. When the guy smiled, Effin saw the fangs jutting out from his mouth. He pushed away, trying to put some distance between them.

“What the hell are you?” Effin asked.

“Your worst nightmare,” the guy snapped back.

Flipping straight up in the air from his crouched position, Effin could only watch as the guy did a somersault and brought the heel of his foot crashing down against the side of Effin’s forehead. The backyard started to spin.

“Nice shot. I’ll give you that,” the man said, towering over him. He looked over at his partner. “The bus just pulled around the block. Looks like we’ll be taking them both.”

“Effin!”

He heard Trip’s voice coming from the front of the house as someone grabbed the back of his shirt, dragging him across the yard. He reached out towards the voice of his friend as his vision blurred and slowly went dark.

“Don’t come back here. It’s a trap.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as the night crept over him and he lost consciousness.

—24—

In for a dime, in for a dollar

“Wake up, you jackass.”

Somehow, Effin knew the jackass they were referring to was him. He also knew he should open his eyes and find out who it was, but he’d had enough drama for one day. Maybe they’d just go away if he ignored them.

“I know you’re awake. I can see your eyeballs moving.”

How could he not recognize that voice? He knew it almost as well as he knew his own.

“How could you just leave me out there like that?” Wilson asked. “I was having a pretty major break down. A little emotional support wasn’t too much to ask for, you know?”

“Floyd’s dead,” Effin said. Not the warmest of greetings, but he wasn’t in the best of moods. He opened his eyes, half-expecting to see the drunken visage of Floyd standing beside Wilson. Thankfully, Wilson was alone. Effin didn’t think he could handle a second ghost bff.

Effin looked around. They were in the back of some sort of cargo van. He could feel it moving under them. Wilson was on a metal bench next to him. His face was blank. Effin felt bad about being so blunt regarding Floyd. Wilson didn’t deserve that.

“I’m sorry, Wilson.”

“It’s this damn town,” he said, staring at the floor. “It takes everything away from you.”

“How’s your dad?”

Effin was afraid to ask, but he needed to know.

“They got him stabilized.” Wilson looked up and smiled weakly. “I stayed with him in the ambulance until we got to the hospital. They think he’s going to make it.”

“That’s good, buddy,” Effin said, sighing in relief. “I’m glad to hear that. Really.”

“So anyway, I knew he was going to be out for a while, and I wanted to come find you.”

“Yeah, about that, how exactly did you find me?” Effin asked. “And where the hell are we exactly?”

“I pretty much always know where you are, dude. I call it ghost G.P.S.”

Effin chuckled. He tried to pull his hand up to wipe the sweat forming on his brow. That’s when he realized his hands were cuffed and chained to a bracket on the floor. He remembered the two guys dressed in black in the backyard back in town. They were standing over some other guy laying in the grass when Effin decided to jump into it to save him. Instead, they pretty much kicked his ass.

“Are we in the back of a van?” he asked.

Wilson pointed towards the front of the van. A wall separated the cargo area from the front cab.

“Yep. They’re taking you out of town. When I caught back up with you, a couple of goons dressed in black were loading you in the back of this van. We’ve been driving for about ten minutes.”

The kid from the back yard was lying on a metal bench across from them. He was still unconscious. Effin nodded towards him.

“Any idea who he is?”

“No idea,” Wilson said. “He was like that when I got here.”

“Whoever he is, the boys in black didn’t seem to like him much. Maybe they’re really aggressive Jehovah Witness?”

The whole trip had been nothing but one disaster after the other from the time he hit the county line. Effin didn’t figure it could get much worse after being arrested, and then tased by some bogus deputy, and then accosted by his best friend’s dad at gunpoint. Getting beat up, thrown in the back of a van, and headed God knows where in the middle of the night, definitely trumped that. At least Wilson found his way back. He’d never admit it to him, but he was really glad to see him.

“Glad to see you’re finding the humor in all of this,” Wilson said.

“It’s my coping mechanism,” Effin answered, fighting back a grin. “Any chance you can do a little recon and see what’s going on up front?”

“A mission? For me?”

“You’re the only man for the job.” He knew if he spiced it up a bit, Wilson would jump all over it.

Wilson started doing some light stretching in the middle of the van. He was the only ghost Effin knew who had stiff joints. OK, he was the only ghost Effin knew at all. Maybe they all had poor circulation. The feeble attempts at touching his toes was a little over the top. Effin wanted to know where they were heading before they actually got there.

“Double O-zero! Get going, already.”

“Alright, alright, but if I pull a hammy and blow the mission, it’s on you.”

Wilson walked to the front of the van and stopped at the wall separating the front from the back. He slowly melted into the partition, looking back long enough to give Effin a thumbs up before he completely disappeared.

Effin pulled at the chain wrapped through his handcuffs. Whoever kidnapped him, it looked like they’d done it before. The metal ring in the floor the chain ran through was bolted in tight. He leaned closer and saw what looked like traces of blood on the metal. Hopefully he made out better than the last guy in his seat.

He thought about camo-guy’s glowing eyes back in the yard. He knew there were some crazy contact lenses out there now-a-days, but the guy seemed too military to wear something like that. There was something else going with him. Based on what he just heard from the nutty professor back in Trip’s car, Effin wondered if he really wanted to find out.

“Ughh.”

Looks like his riding buddy was starting to stir. He lifted his head off the bench. He tried to reach for his face and figured out he was shackled too. He didn’t seem to come to terms with that as easily as Effin had. Panic kicked in hard.

“What the hell?” The boy tried to jump up, but the chain pulled him back down. “What the hell? What the hell?”

He was thrashing around and making a lot of noise. Effin felt the van slowing down.

“Hey, buddy! Calm down, will you?” Effin asked. “You’re going to make those freaky commandos come back here to check on us.”

The guy stopped fighting. He just stared. Effin guess he didn’t have his own personal Wilson to explain anything to him. It looked like he was having a pretty rough day of his own.

“Are we under arrest?” the guy asked.

“Don’t know.” Effin felt the van speed back up. “I doubt it. I was just with the sheriff back in town, and he didn’t say anything about any other law enforcement agencies being around.”

The kid took a deep breath. Effin noticed him wringing his hands together. He was in some kind of trouble of his own he guessed. There was something about him that Effin immediately didn’t trust.

“What were you doing back in that yard?” Effin asked.

“Me? I was… looking for someone.”

Liar. The kid had no-good written all over him.

“Who?” Effin asked.

“Just some… girl,” he answered.

“So, who was shooting a gun?” Effin wasn’t letting him off that easy. The guys in black weren’t popping off shots. They seemed to be in super stealth mode, so someone else had to let the led fly.

“Wasn’t me,” he said. “I was just passing through, and they jumped me.”

“Passing through someone’s back yard,” Effin asked.

“Who the hell are you, anyone?”

Fair enough. Effin was brow beating this kid with a million questions, but he was jammed up the same as him. He probably looked pretty sketchy himself.

“Name’s Effin, Effin Jones.”

The kid sat up a little straighter on the bench.

“I thought that was you. You’re the one everyone is talking about. They all think you took that little girl, and now you’re just trying to cover it up.”

Effin already knew the whole town was under the same opinion, but he didn’t like how smug the guy was being about it.

“I came here to help her,” Effin said. “They can all go to hell.”

The kid raised his hands in defense.

“I’m just saying what’s going around town. The name’s Denton, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but, to be honest, I’m not much in a meet and greet mood,” Effin said.

“Do you have any idea where they’re taking us,” Denton asked.

“No clue.”

That seemed to be the burning question. He wondered what was taking Wilson so long to sneak a peek out the window and get back there. Some secret agent he was turning out to be.

***

Sweet. They’re playing my jam.

Wilson crouched into the space between the two front seats of the van. The radio blasted an 80’s hair metal anthem, and he softly head-banged to the raging guitar chorus. Wherever they were going, they were making good time with the speedometer pegged at over ninety.

They’d been on the same stretch of road leading out of town for the last few minutes. He knew he told Effin he’d be right back, but he wanted to at least report back with some useful information. He looked for any kind of street sign along the road to help him get his bearings, but between it being dark and his own general lack of direction, it wasn’t going well.

The driver leaned towards his passenger.

“I thought that second guy was going to kick your ass,” he smirked.

The passenger gave him the middle finger.

“Little shit just got a lucky shot. It happens. I dealt with it.”

The passenger sneered at his partner, and if Wilson was actually capable of feinting, it would have happened just then. The guy’s eyes were almost fluorescent green, shining in the darkened cab. When he grinned, Wilson could swear he saw fangs. What the hell have they gotten their selves into?

Finally, the van slowed down and turned off onto a dirt road. About a hundred yards in, and it came to a stop. The goon in the passenger seat jumped out and unlocked a metal gate.

They were heading back to the Farm. But why? Wilson turned to report back to Effin, but paused when the radio crackled.

“Mother Goose to Zulu 2. What’s you ETA?”

“Give us another couple minutes. We just came through the south gate,” the driver answered.

“We have a team at the professor’s house sanitizing the scene, and another has already cleaned up any trace evidence from your little skirmish in town. Any sight of the Alpha Experiment?”

“Zulu 1 stayed in town to search, but we haven’t heard anything.”

“Come straight to the main base. The director wants to question those two.”

“Copy that,” the driver replied.

“I’d hate to be in either one of their shoes,” the passenger snickered.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

The director? That didn’t sound good. Wilson figured he’d better stay up front a little longer. Whatever him and Effin had stepped into, it was a lot deeper than a missing girl and some pissed off town people. He was starting to worry about his friend’s immediate well-being.

The van continued down the dirt road. It was smoother than he’d expected. It turned gravel another hundred yards in.

“Switching to ultra-red,” the driver snapped.

The headlights turned from white to a dull red as the van cut around the next bend. Up ahead, something flashed on the base of a tree. A large “X” had been painted on it. The driver hit a switch on the dashboard as they slowed down.

It looked like the forest was moving behind the tree. Wilson leaned closer before he realized a large mound of the earth was shifting back to reveal a tunnel underneath the forest. The van gently bumped as the front wheels touched paved road, and it submerged beneath the tree line. The headlights switched back to normal as they sped down a tunnel leading farther below the surface. There were amber lights sporadically spaced along the ceiling, and the van glided through the passage with practiced ease.

Wilson definitely wasn’t expecting all of this. He looked at the automatic rifle wedged next to the passenger seat before phasing back into the rear compartment. The other guy on the bench was awake and having a conversation with Effin. Wilson settled into the seat beside his friend and put his hand on his shoulder.

“We got trouble, bro.”

—25—

Anna, Anna, Oxen-Free

“Anna!”

Dr. Callus sprinted through the thick underbrush of the woods. Elle chased ten steps behind him. Every time a new branch struck her, she cursed a little louder. After the gun shots in town turned up nothing, except maybe an aspiring Peeping Tom, the doctor convinced Trip they needed to head out to the abandoned laboratory.

“Dammit.”

On top of that, Effin decided he should vanish off the face of the planet. All they had to go on was a mysterious van and Effin’s cell phone found in a backyard. They couldn’t say for certain if the two things were connected, but it was all they had.

“Come on, Dr. Callus, wait up.” Elle pushed through some branches, trying to keep up with his frantic pace. Every time he heard something move in the woods, he took off running in that direction, yelling his daughter’s name. They’ve been chasing him around the woods for the last twenty minutes.

“I’ve got to find my Anna,” he shouted, looking back as he jumped over a fallen tree. He lost his footing on the bark, toppling end over end. His head thumped against the base of the trunk.

Elle ran over to him, gently rolling him over. Blood gushed down his forehead. She brushed back his hair and saw the gash in his head. Well, at least she caught up with him.

“Trip?”

She saw Trip run the other way when she took off after the doctor. She figured he was trying to cut him off. He’d pretty much been running in circles the entire time. Something came crashing through the branches behind her.

“I told you to stop him, not kill him,” Trip said, pausing against a tree to catch his breath.

“I didn’t do this,” she said. “The nutty professor knocked himself out. He’s bleeding pretty good. Do you have any bandages?”

“Back in the cruiser. It’s only about fifty yards that way.” Trip pointed back towards the road. “He may be a genetic genius, but he has a crap sense of direction. Help me get him back there.”

“He’s heavier then he looks,” Elle said, wrapping one of the doctor’s arms around her shoulder.

“Crazy adds ten pounds.” Trip grabbed his other arm.

“I never realized you were such a smartass,” Elle said, smirking.

“It helps me deal with the stress.” He smiled back at her.

“Do you really think Effin’s out here somewhere?” she asked.

They crossed through the wood line and back onto the gravel of the parking lot near the front of the old laboratory. The base camp for Libby’s search was abandoned and dark.

“I heard voices behind that house back in town,” he said. “I could have sworn one of them was Effin. Just put him down here.” Trip pointed at the ground near the trunk of the police cruiser.

“But he wasn’t there?” She didn’t really know Effin. She realized that. They were friends when they were kids, but she hadn’t heard from him in years. Still, she refused to believe he’d just abandon them. Sure, people change, due to circumstance and choice, but she didn’t see that in him. She saw a scared and confused boy with a good heart, wanting to be let in from the cold.

“There was more than one person back there. They must have got out of there before I could get to them,” he said. “It looked like there was a fight. The homeowner said there was some kind of animal staring in his daughter’s window. He was pretty sure he shot whatever it was.”

“What’s all that have to do with Effin,” she asked as Trip pulled a medical kit from inside the car and wrapped the professor’s head with a bandage.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But when I got back there, I saw taillights and a black van take off down the alley.” Trip finished his wrap job and took a small vial out of the box.

“So, you think someone kidnapped him?” Elle hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“After what the doctor told us about this place and a mysterious van wandering around, I’d say it’s at least a possibility.”

Trip cracked open the glass vial between his fingers and held it under the doctor’s nose. The old man immediately began to stir, wincing from the smell.

“Acht. Where am I?” he asked.

“You’re back at the car,” Elle said. “You’ve been running around like a crazy man, and you cracked your head on a tree.”

She didn’t mean to sound so blunt, but they had more pressing concerns than keeping the good doctor under control. She was worried about Effin. If what Trip said was true, he could be in trouble, real trouble, not just a bunch of crazy town people who think he’s the second coming of the dark side.

“Why are you so convinced your daughter came back here?” Trip asked.

The doctor touched his hand to his head and grimaced.

“She’s been drawn to this place ever since the accident,” he said. “I couldn’t keep her away. That’s why I had to keep her chained up in my home even though it broke my heart to do it.”

“You kept her in chains?” Elle blurted.

“In the basement. Ja.”

“Okay, then.” She tapped her fingers on her knee.

Something growled in the woods behind them, and they all froze in place.

“Anna?” The doctor leaned forward, almost whispering.

Trip gently pushed him back against the cruiser.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said, slowly standing up. “You two stay here, and I’ll check it out.”

“If it’s all the same, I think I’d rather tag along with you,” Elle said. She’d been around the bar scene long enough to know when the shit hit the fan, the best place to be was usually behind the guy with the gun.

She looked at the doctor and pointed. “You stay here, okay? Get inside the car and lock the doors. We’ll be right over there.”

She sounded like she was talking to a child, but they didn’t need the professor running through the woods yelling for his were-child and costing them the element of surprise.

Obediently, he opened the door and slid inside.

Elle followed a couple steps behind Trip as they made their way back into the woods. He drew his pistol from his holster, keeping it pointed towards the ground. They paused behind a group of trees.

A branch cracked somewhere ahead of them.

“Probably just a raccoon,” he said.

“One big damn raccoon.”

Trip nodded. “Stay close.”

It felt like the time Elle went paint-balling with a group of friends from the bar, jumping from one tree to the next. Except in this case, it was real fear, and there was no home base. She accidentally bumped into Trip’s back when he stopped behind the next tree.

“It’s right in front of us,” he said. “I’m going to jump out and flash my light to scare it.”

“Sounds like a plan, sort of.”

Elle stayed pinned behind the tree as Trip sprang out from behind their cover. The flashlight mounted to the top of his pistol flared to life, bringing the entire side of the woods into view.

“Holy shit,” he screamed.

Elle peeked out from behind the tree and immediately regretted her decision.

Standing on its back haunches, whatever it was, it stood easily seven feet tall. Covered in patches of grey fur, the creature howled at them so loud she thought her ears were going to burst. Its arms reached almost to its knees, each muscled appendage ending in a single curved talon. Between the tuffs of hair, Elle could see a scaly green skin underneath. That explained the half canine / half reptilian head that glared at them with serpentine eyes. A crocodile-like tail whipped across the forest floor behind it. Elle saw the pool of blood on the ground, left behind from the doctor’s recent head trauma.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, hoping Trip had a logical answer.

“I have no idea, but it looks pissed off,” he said.

They stood there, in what Elle assumed was a mutual uncomfortable silence. She’d liked to think it was caution causing her to hold her ground, but she knew it was mostly heart-stopping fear. This thing looked like it could tear through them like tissue paper.

“Just start backing away. Nice and easy,” Trip said.

“That’s your whole plan?” she asked.

“You got a better one?”

“Backing up it is.”

Elle felt her way back through the woods, taking care with each step. Trip mimicked her movements. The creature held its ground, growling and shifting its weight from one leg to the other. They made it about ten feet away when Trip’s foot cracked some loose twigs. It was only a branch snapping, but it may as well have been a stick of dynamite.

Repto-wolf growled, lunging at them so fast Elle only saw a blur of scales and fur. Trip fired a half dozen shots straight into the thing’s chest as it rushed them. The beast slammed into them, like Trip and Elle were a couple bowling pins and it was trying to pick up the spare. The next thing she knew, she was soaring through the air. She slammed into a tree, hard. Her ribs felt like they were on fire.

Trip was pinned with his back against a fallen tree, firing round after round at the thing. It was zigzagging between the shots, closing in on its prey. The bullets ricocheted off its hide. Trip dropped the magazine in his pistol, quickly reloading another. He took his time with the next shot, hitting the monster square in the head. It howled in pain as it jumped at him. He ducked just as the creature crashed through the tree behind him. Branches and small chunks of wood sprayed across the forest. Elle shielded her eyes, waiting for the thing to pounce on them.

And then it was silent.

When she finally opened her eyes, Trip was limping towards her.

“I think I scared it away.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it looked terrified.”

“I might have shot it in the eye,” he said.

“Congratulations.”

Something moved through the brush behind them, between them and parking lot.

“We need to get moving. I probably just pissed it off.”

They headed deeper into the woods.

“Wait. What about Dr. Callus?” she asked.

“He’ll be fine as long as he stays in the car,” he said. “I think his blood attracted that thing in the first place. It’s after us now. We’ll double back for him when we get a chance.”

“I’ve decided this isn’t at all like paintball,” Elle said.

“What?”

“Never mind. Just keeping running.”

—26—

Over the river and through the woods…

Effin didn’t know what hurt worse, the pain from the handcuffs cutting into his wrists, or the throbbing headache caused by his whining van-mate.

“They’re going to kill us. You know that, right,” Denton said, standing up next to the metal bench. He tried pulling the chain free from the floor bracket for probably the tenth time.

“You don’t know that,” Effin said, for at least the ninth time.

“I know plenty,” Denton shot back. He gave up trying to break the metal bracket and plopped back down in his seat. “They have us chained in the back of a van. Check. They’re driving us God knows where. Check. They have assault rifles. Check.”

“Has he been like this the whole time I was gone,” Wilson asked.

“Yup.”

“I liked him better when he was unconscious,” Wilson covered his ears.

“Yup.”

“You already said that.” Denton’s face contorted with fear and a bit of anger.

“Don’t you think if they were planning to kill us, they’d have just done it back in that yard?” Effin asked.

That one caught Denton off guard, and he paused for a whole half-second before answering.

“They’re not going to leave behind any evidence, you idiot. They’ll take us someplace where they can get rid of the bodies without a trace.”

“Yeah, you idiot,” Wilson added.

Effin leaned his head against the wall of the van, trying to drowned out his new friend’s incessant ranting. Wilson already filled him in on everything he learned from his trip to the front cabin. These guys were military, or more likely para-military. Denton was right about them being well-armed. What Effin didn’t understand was why they were headed back to the abandoned laboratory. Wilson told him they were underground in some kind of secret tunnel. It just didn’t make sense. Maybe they learned about the crazy doctor and his daughter turned lab experiment?

The van lurched to a stop. Effin braced his foot on the floor to stop himself. Denton wasn’t so lucky and banged his head against the side of the van. The front cab doors opened and then slammed shut. It looked like they were about to find out why they were there.

“Rise and shine, meat sacks,” one of the men in black said, swinging open the back cargo door.

He wore sun glasses and had a black military-styled cap pulled low on his head. Effin looked over at Denton, who was lying limp on the bench. Their captor unlocked the chain holding Denton’s cuffs to the floor.

“He’s still out?” the guy asked, looking over at Effin.

Effin just shrugged.

“What a wuss,” he said, slinging Denton over his shoulder.

“Rut ro,” Wilson said, standing next to the man. “Guy went full possum.”

Almost as if on cue, Denton’s eyes shot open. He slammed his fist into the guy’s ear as they fell into the side of the van. Wrapping his arms around the brute’s neck, Denton leaned back, using the handcuff chain to choke him.

“Die! Die! Die!” Denton screamed, a crazed look in his eyes.

“The kid’s some kind of ninja!” Wilson yelled. “Snap his neck, you crazy, motor-mouthed assassin!”

The guard growled, a low guttural roar. Effin say his eyes glowing in the darkened compartment as his fingernails lengthened into claws. Throwing his own weight back, he pinned Denton against the partition separating the back of the van from the cab. Every ounce of breath was blown out of Denton’s lungs. The guy spun around, coming face to face with the frightened boy.

“Oh. He is so dead,” Wilson said, stepping back next to Effin. “You may want to pick up your feet. It’s about to get messy.”

Dragging a claw across Denton’s cheek, he smiled.

“Boy was that stupid, mate,” he said. “Gonna have to hurt you for that.”

A puddle formed at Denton’s feet.

“Huh. I never saw a ninja piss himself before,” Wilson added.

“You’re not helping,” Effin whispered.

“You got something to add, mate,” the guy looked over at Effin. “You’ll get your turn soon enough.”

“Jackson!”

Someone yelled from outside the van.

“What? Kid was getting squirrely with me,” Jackson yelled back.

“You know the rules of engagement. We only have on-sight kills for the identified targets,” the man barked.

Jackson turned back to Denton. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, mate.”

The jab came so fast Effin hardly saw it, but he’s sure Denton felt it. The boy’s head snapped back. At least he wouldn’t be talking for a while.

Jackson’s partner climbed into the van and unlocked Effin’s cuffs. He had the same glowing green eyes.

“You’re not planning anything stupid like your friend, are you?”

“Not me.” Whoever these guys were, they were way out of Effin’s league.

“Let’s go.” Jackson was waiting for them outside with Denton casually slung over his shoulder. “The Director’s expecting us.”

Effin was led, well dragged, from the back of the van. They were in a giant hanger filled with different kinds of vehicles, vans, dark colored sedans, dirt bikes, UTV’s, you name it, it was in there. Whoever they were, they were well-funded.

At the far wall was a metal double-door that Jackson kicked open, leading to a small hall. They stopped at a set of elevator doors. Inside, Jackson’s partner hit a button. None of the floors had numbers on them, just blank.

“Are we going back to the surface?” Effin asked.

Jackson looked at him quizzically. “How’d you know we’re underground?”

Oops. Effin forgot they were in a sealed van the whole trip. He looked at Wilson, who just shrugged.

“I was a boy scout,” he said. It was better than nothing.

Jackson roared with laughter, pointing at him.

“I kinda like this one.”

The door chimed open.

“Penthouse. Everyone out.” Jackson waved his arm as Effin walked passed. “What, no tip?”

They were in a long hall with doors on either side. Jackson, with Denton still slung over his should, led them to a set of double doors. He knocked.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Wilson said.

“Enter,” someone inside answered.

The room was a big conference area with a giant table and chairs surrounding it. The lights were turned down low. Sitting at the far end of the table was a man with his back to them. He waited until they were all inside before he slowly turned and stood up.

“This feels like a bad reality TV show.” Wilson stayed close to his friend’s side.

There was something strikingly familiar about the man, but Effin couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the guy’s beard or the poor lighting. His suit probably cost more than Effin’s whole wardrobe. He caught a glimpse of the gold watch strapped to the guy’s wrist. He tried to take a step closer to get a better look, but Jackson grabbed his arm.

“Easy there, mate,” he said.

“It’s okay, agent. Let him go,” the man said.

Effin walked across the room. The closer he got, the more certain he was. It was him. It was really him.

“You,” Effin said.

Wilson was a couple steps behind him. His head pivoted between the two of them in a state of utter confusion.

“You who? Who’s you? I am totally lost here,” Wilson said.

The man motioned for Effin to sit down.

“Hello… son.”

—27—

Pretty ribbons, pretty bows

Anna huddled in the corner. She felt funny, dizzy. She was cold, colder than she could remember being in a long time, but her arm felt like it was on fire. It scared her, scared her like the days back in the lab. Her memories were becoming harder and harder to bring back. She was worried about her papa, the one who took care of her and kept her safe. She didn’t mean to run away, to be bad, but she hated being in that crowded place, the boxes with all the people and strange smells.

She wished she was still like the girl she saw back in town, surrounded by colors and wearing pretty things. Her laughter still rang in Anna’s ears, carelessly jumping and dancing with no cares in the world. She seemed so happy, like Anna used to be. She probably wasn’t always hungry and scared like Anna was. At least not until she saw Anna at her window, and her smiled went away. She was a monster. That’s why the man with the fire stick hurt her, and why Anna did what she does best. She ran, and she kept on running until she made it all the way back to the woods, back to her secret room.

Laying on the cold floor, she traced her hand over a pictured she carved into the wall a long, long time ago. The good man was standing next to her in front of their own box, but it surrounded by trees. She carved a crude circle above the box, the yellow globe that warmed her fur. In the trees, she drew a set of eyes, the eyes that always seemed to be watching her, hunting her. She was afraid of the eyes.

Her arm was still leaking, though not as bad as before, soaking into her fur. She licked it over and over, but she couldn’t make it stop.

Crawling across the dirty cement floor, Anna stopped at the nest she made for her new friend from the field. The girl was asleep. She sniffed her arm, nudging it with her nose, but her friend didn’t move. She thought maybe she was pretending, she’d done it before, but the girl hadn’t moved since Anna got back. Her dress wasn’t sparkly anymore, instead it was covered in dirt. Her face lost its color. The red in her cheeks was all but gone. She looked more like Anna than the girl from back in town.

“Enngh.” She pushed harder against the girl’s shoulder.

There was plenty of water in her bowl. Anna had filled it from the stream right before Papa took her back to the lights and boxes. She left half a rat for her beside her bed, but it was untouched. She didn’t understand why she wouldn’t move. Maybe she needed some of the good air, like the kind outside.

There were bad things in the woods, things that scared Anna, especially at night. That’s when they came out. They chased her, tried to hurt her. Their smells confused her, at times they reminded her of the good man, and others like the animals she shared the forest with. She didn’t want to go up into the woods without the yellow circle to protect her, but she was worried about her friend. Grabbing the girl by the collar of her shirt, Anna dragged her towards the door.

She felt heavier than before. It took all of Anna’s strength as she climbed with the girl, one rung at a time, up the ladder towards the forest above them. Pushing open the hatch, Anna dragged the girl out into the woods. She fell on her back, gasping for air. It shouldn’t be that hard. Maybe Anna was sick like her friend. The breeze felt good on her fur. She was sure it would make her friend feel better too. They both just needed rest. The woods would give them everything they needed. She felt at home there, at times, even more than she did in Papa’s box back at the place with the lights.

Anna closed her eyes, trying to forget about the pain in her arm, and the bad men trying to hurt her. Eventually her breathing slowed down. In the morning, she’d find them both something good to eat, maybe some berries, and then they’d both feel better.

Her friend cried out softly. Anna curled up next to her in some leaves. They both eventually drifted off to sleep.

—28—

It ain’t nothing but a swamp thing!

“I think we lost it,” Trip said, holding back a branch for Elle as they travelled deeper into the woods.

She bent under it. She stopped and sat at the base of a tree.

“Zumba, my ass,” she said. “And here I thought I was in pretty good shape.”

“Having wolf-zilla hot on our trail definitely adds to the aerobic experience,” Trip said.

Elle laughed.

He liked her laugh back when they were kids. He still did. It was an honest laugh. They never really talked much since that summer, which seemed like a lifetime ago. They both moved on with their life choices, graduating from high school, finding jobs. He got into law enforcement, she seemed to drift around a bit. He can’t say he kept track of her, but he listened when her name came up. He hated to admit it, but it was easier to avoid her than remember the past at times.

He saw Floyd every few months when the liquor got the better of him, and he needed a ride home. They never talked about that day. Never brought it up. It was like it never happened. He still couldn’t believe Floyd was dead.

He reached for Elle’s hand.

“Come on. We probably should keep moving. We’ll slow down the pace a little.”

“Any luck with your phone?” she asked.

Trip pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. No service, not even a single bar.

“Nothing. You?”

“I just looked. My battery is on like three percent,” she said. “Maybe try your walkie talkie thing again?”

Trip pulled the radio from his duty belt.

“Sheriff Daniels to station, repeat, Sheriff Daniels to station, can you read me? Anyone?”

They both stared at the radio, hoping for anything but static.

“We’re too far away,” he said. “The repeater won’t pick up the signal. We need to get back to my cruiser and use the radio in there. It has a stronger signal.”

Elle looked over her shoulder. “Uh, uh. I’m not looking to become that thing’s midnight snack, thank you very much.”

Trip couldn’t say he blamed her. It’s hard to walk into the path of something straight out of a nightmare and not have your nerves rattled. His were too, but he’d never let her know that. Ninety percent of police work was having the people around you think you had the situation under control, even if you really didn’t. He learned that from his dad years before he ever joined the force. He missed him, but like he learned at far too young an age, life had a way of moving on.

“We’ll be fine. If we keep heading this way, it should take us to Rocky Ridge Road. After we hit pavement, we can circle back around to the road and get to the car.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” she said.

Trip helped her down the next hill. Rural Pennsylvania landscapes were a series of small hills and valleys, especially the area surrounding the old laboratory. The terrain was tricky, and he had his boots on. Elle was wearing a pair of sneakers. He knew she was a strong girl. He’d been called down to the bar on more than one occasion only to find she already had the situation in hand, sometimes with some well-placed threats, others times with the Negotiator in hand.

Cresting the next knoll, Trip felt the ground under his boots getting soft. They had to be getting close to the old sink hole. The whole area used to be a big strip mine back in the thirties and forties. Some of the old coke ovens still lined the hillsides. The coal company had dug out a huge man-made lake near entrance to the old mines. Over the years, the bottom of the pond had recessed and connected to some of the underground shafts, flooding the tunnels below. Certain areas in the water had an undercurrent from the seepage that could pull anyone dumb enough to swim there to the bottom. They called it a sink hole.

“Um… are we sinking?” Elle asked. “Just so you know, if we get caught in quick sand, I’m just giving up.”

Trip pointed up ahead.

“The old mine over-flow reservoir is just up ahead. I should know. I have to chase kids out of here every summer.”

“Yeah, I can still remember Billy Andrews bringing me up here when we were in high school,” Elle said.

“Bill the Pill?” Trip asked, trying to hide his surprise. “He was the biggest tool in school. Come to think of it, he’s still a jerk.”

Elle’s shoe sunk farther into the wet ground. She tried to pull free. Her foot came up, but her shoe stayed buried in the mud.

“Could this get any worse?”

She dug her shoe free. The mud had soaked inside of it. She wiggled it back on her foot.

“Billy had his moments,” she said. “He was just really shy around other people, especially the football player jock type. You probably knew a few of those. Right?”

“You know I was starting quarterback my junior and senior year. I remember you coming to a few games.”

“Yeah, well, it must have been a slow weekend on my otherwise loaded social calendar,” Elle quipped, stepping around a puddle of water.

“Whatever you say.”

They stopped a couple feet from the water’s edge. Trip threw a stick out into the pond. He heard it smack the water.

“The pond is bigger than you’d think. We’ll stay along the rim until we make it around to the other side. The road should only be about a couple minute walk from there,” he said.

“Maybe you should use the flashlight on your gun,” Elle stayed a few steps behind him. “Just because my foot’s soaked, doesn’t mean I’m ready to take a swim.”

“Probably not a good idea. My light’s pretty bright. It’ll help us see, but it’ll also make us easy to find, if you get what I mean.”

Elle looked over her shoulder.

“Yeah, nix the light.”

He led the way as they circled the dark waters. She was right, the water was probably somewhere around thirty degrees. If they fell in, it could turn bad fast.

They were half way around the pond when Trip saw something blocking their path. Someone had stacked a bunch of branches and logs on top of each other near the water’s edge. Elle bumped into his back.

“Ow. That was my nose,” she said. “A little warning with the sudden brakes, okay?”

“There’s something blocking the path,” he said, pointing. “It almost looks like some kind of fort.”

“Did you hear that?” Elle asked.

“What?”

“It sounds like something’s moving in the water,” she said, turning to face the pond.

Trip turned with her. They both stood there silent, listening. The hair on the back of Trip’s neck tingled. He’d done his job long enough to know when something felt wrong.

“Get behind me,” he said.

Something bubbled near the center of the pond. Trip pulled his service pistol and pointed it at the ground. The bubbles vanished. He was tempted to light up the pond with his flashlight, but he didn’t want to give away their position over a curious bullfrog.

“Do you see anything?” Elle asked.

“Probably just a frog.”

“Then why’d you pull your gun?”

“I hate frogs.”

Something crashed through the brush behind them. Trip spun around, clicking on his flashlight. The whole edge of the woods lit up in front of him. His finger slipped into the trigger guard as he scanned the woods. More branches cracked, and he dropped to one knee, following the sounds with the barrel of his gun.

“Get ready to run.”

A head poked out from the limbs, its eyes reflecting in the glare of his light. Trip guessed the fawn was no more than a few months old, barely over a couple feet tall. It was as scared of them as they were of it.

“Awww.” Elle purred. “Come here, little fella.”

Elle pulled a nature bar out of her coat pocket, quietly ripping the wrapper free and breaking off the end. She held it in her palm, showing it to the small deer.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” she said. “I know you’re hungry.”

The fawn took a couple tentative steps towards her then stopped. It raised its head and sniffed the air before sprinting away from them, leaping back into the woods.

“Maybe it doesn’t like processed nuts,” Trip said.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Something must have spooked him,” he said.

“Maybe it was—”

The water behind them erupted. Something jumped at them from below the surface of the pond, roaring as it emerged. They both spun around, but it was on them in a flash. Trip pushed Elle away at the last second, but his sacrifice was costly. He took the full brunt of the creature crashing into him. The trees spun around him as he tumbled through the air. The ground didn’t feel any softer. He rolled to his knees and came up firing. He emptied a whole clip in the direction he last saw the water monster. When the smoke cleared, and the echo of the gunfire quit ringing in his ears, Trip saw only empty space. It was gone. How could something that big be that quick?

It hissed behind him, the same half-wolf / half-lizard thing from back near the car. It set a trap for them, and then waited in the water. Trip dropped the magazine from his pistol. He reached into his belt for a fresh clip. The creature dropped to all fours. Its tail thrashed against the ground as it moved away from him. He didn’t realize why until he saw Elle laying on the ground near the base of a tree. Her leg was pinned under a fallen branch. It would be on her in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t risk taking a shot for fear of hitting her.

“Trip?” Her voice was shaking.

She was too far away. He’d never make it time. Grabbing the knife from his boot, he ran towards her.

Something blew passed him as he ran. It tackled the swamp wolf just before it made it to Elle. They wrestled on the ground, both trying to get leverage. The second figure kicked the croc-man in the head and leapt away. Trip got his first good look at it. It was a man, at least it looked like one to him. He was muscular and dressed in dark camouflage. Trip realized his mistake when the man turned toward him. His eyes were bright green, almost glowing in the night.

“Take it easy, lawman. I got this.”

The man pulled a bowie knife from a sheath tucked into the small of his back. Spinning the blade in his hand, he dove back towards the swamp creature. Its tail swung, striking the man in the gut and pinning him to the ground. Its jaws clamped down his leg, and he screamed in pain. He plunged the knife into the beast’s neck. It thrashed on the ground, rolling and twisting on its side, dragging the man with it.

Trip pulled Elle free, dragging her away from the fight.

“Like this night couldn’t get any weirder,” Elle said. “Was that guy’s eyes glowing?”

Trip drew down on them both. He still had no idea what was going, and who was on who’s side, if there were even sides. The man in camo pulled his leg free from the swamp wolf’s jaws. He pried the blade from its neck. Blood poured from the wound. The man leaped straight in the air, easily fifteen feet, coming down with the heel of his boot to the back of the monster’s neck. The beast fell limp at the man’s feet. He wiped his knife on his pant leg, stepping away.

“You mind pointing that thing somewhere else,” he said, looking at Trip.

“I kind of do,” Trip answered. “You mind telling me who and what the hell you are?”

The guy smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Both of those answers are rather complicated.” He stepped towards them. “Why don’t we head back to base, and they can answer all of your questions there?”

“Why don’t you just stay right where you are?” Trip stood up, keeping his sights trained on the mystery man.

The man paused, eyeing Trip. His hand hovered over the pistol strapped to his own thigh. He smirked, flashing a partial fang.

“This is going to end bad for you,” he said.

“Trip?” Elle tugged at his sleeve.

“Stay down,” Trip snapped.

This guy was crazy fast, leaping straight in the air like a jungle cat, flipping head first, and landing five yards away. It was a fair guess his reflexes were enhanced too. Even with his gun already drawn, Trip felt like he was at a disadvantage. The guy was too confident and cocky. Maybe they should play along with following him back to their base and wait for a better opportunity to make a move. He lowered his gun, but he didn’t holster it.

“Ok, we play this your way,” Trip said.

“Smart move,” he said. “The boss is going to want to meet…”

A claw exploded from the middle of the man’s chest in mid-sentence. The repto-wolf was behind him. Sinking its teeth into his neck, it thrashed back and forth, tearing flesh and splattering blood. The soldier dropped to his knees. It only took another few bites for the monster to turn its fury into feasting.

Trip grabbed Elle, slowly backing away. He thought about trying to shoot it again, but judging how well that worked last time, he didn’t want to chance drawing its attention.

“Let’s go while its distracted,” he said.

Elle looked back as they ran. “Shouldn’t we do something to help him?” she asked.

“It’s too late. He’s gone. We need to put as much distance between us and that thing as we can, or we may be next on the menu.”

“I think we should try for your car,” she said.

“Maybe,” Trip said. “Or maybe, we see where this takes us.”

He dangled a small electronic device by the cord.

“What is that?”

“Looks like some kind of tracking device,” he said. “I’m guessing that’s how he found us in the first place.” There were two green dots blinking on the screen. “If we reverse the process and head towards the center, we may just find this base he was talking about.”

“And what do we do when we get there?” Elle asked.

“I’m still working on that.”

—29—

Ow. My hand!

“You’re my father,” Effin said. “You’re really him.”

“Search your instincts, Effin. You know it to be true.” Wilson stood behind his friend with his arms folded, exaggerating his breath.

Effin glared at him.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

The man behind the desk approached them.

“It’s me, Oswald,” he said. “I’ve waited a long time for this day.”

A family reunion was the last thing Effin expected. He hadn’t seen his dad in years, not since a couple months after the incident back in the woods. He just up and disappeared one day. His mom told Effin he just couldn’t handle all of the pressure and the rumors, so he picked up and vanished, from town, and from their lives. Not a Christmas card, birthday gift, or a hey, remember me? I’m still your father email. Effin never heard from him again.

“But how?” Effin was at a complete lost. His face felt numb. His knees wobbled.

“Sit down, Oswald,” his dad said, pointing at one of the chairs surrounding the conference table. He nodded towards Agent Jackson. “How about getting us some water?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at the other agent. “You can put our other guest down in one of the chairs over there, and then leave us alone.”

“But, sir?” the agent protested.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you, agent.”

Effin sat down. His dad took the seat next to him. Wilson settled in on the other side of the table from Effin.

“This is better than day-time Spanish soaps,” Wilson chimed in. “I need some snacks or something.”

“The least I owe you is an explanation.”

“Gee, you think?” Effin asked. His head was swirling with emotions and questions. It was hard to stay focused.

“Let me start by saying that I loved your mother, very much. That last thing I wanted to do was abandon my family.”

“So, then, why did you leave?” Effin asked. Images of his mother crying uncontrollably as they strapped her down to a gurney and wheeled her across the yard to the waiting ambulance flashed in his head. He felt the anger swelling deep inside.

“It… got complicated, Oswald.”

“He’s a spy. Sonofbitch, your dad is totally licensed to kill,” Wilson snapped, pounding his fist on the table for dramatic effect. It probably would have worked better if it made any noise.

“Complicated, how?” Effin asked. “And quit calling me Oswald. I go by Effin.”

“Fair enough, Effin. After the… incident with you in the woods that day, the entire town focused on you and on our family. Part of my work here at the lab depended on a certain amount of secrecy. Having hundreds or prying eyes watching our every move didn’t fare well for staying, how do they say it, under the radar.”

“Who cares who was watching? You were a delivery driver. Weren’t you?” Effin asked. He felt his grip on reality slipping by the second. Was everything about his life a lie? His father wore coveralls, not expensive suits with slicked back hair and a team of agents to do his bidding.

“I worked for the government, Osw… Effin. Part of my job was to keep my position a secret from everyone that didn’t need to know, that included you and your mother.”

The agent came back carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses. He set them on the table.

“We just lost signal with Agent Moore,” the man said, pouring a glass for each of them. “Last position had him near the pond about ten clicks due north.”

“What was he doing out there?” Effin’s father asked.

“He was tracking the other guests we picked up on the grounds.”

“Send two more agents to check on him, and someone give me an update as soon as they have something to report. I want this contained. Now. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The agent spun and left the room.

He turned back towards Effin. “Sorry about that. Where was I?”

“Lying to me and Mom about almost everything in your life,” Effin casually responded.

“Ooohh, feel the burn,” Wilson said. “Don’t let him off the hook, buddy. I’m thinking he at least owes you a car. It looks like he can afford it, so don’t settle for nothing pre-owned either. I’m thinking a convertible, cause, you know, I get car sick.”

“I had to, Effin. The research we’re doing up here is classified. We’re making scientific breakthroughs that will change the world, hell, change history. Your mother couldn’t know about any of this. It had to be that way. I’m sorry.”

The mounting anger swelled up from Effin’s stomach into his chest. His heart was beating like a trip hammer. This guy had the nerve to ruin his whole childhood, and he thought he was going to get away with just saying he was sorry. A lifetime of pain and questions, his mom in the looney bin, him feeling like he destroyed the only good thing he was ever a part of, and this jackass has been living a double life the whole time.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Effin tried to control his emotions, but after so many years, the volcano was ready to erupt. “Mom fell apart when you left. She couldn’t handle it all by herself, so she turned to drinking and pills. Do you even know where she is?” He slammed his fist on the table, and unlike his friend, the sound echoed across the room.

His father pushed his chair away from the table. He stood up and moved next to a small podium. There was a little black box on top of it with blinking lights. His hand rested on one of the switches. The smile faded from his face.

“I know she’s in treatment,” he said. “I tried to visit her once… years ago. She didn’t even know who I was.”

“You should have been there,” Effin’s eyes were watering, but he didn’t want to show weakness in front of this man. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. While he always hated him for leaving, he figured it was dad’s own twisted way of coping. But now, realizing he was this close for so long, Effin could barely contain his rage.

“I know.” His dad hung his head low, pulling his hand away from the control console.

“And Aunt Gertie?”

“That was a tragedy, son. She was a good woman.”

Every time he called Effin his son, his skin crawled. He’d lost that privilege years ago, and it wasn’t something that just came back in the blink of an eye. He looked over at Wilson, who was tapping his fingers against the table.

“Dude, this is beyond intense,” Wilson said. “I don’t even know what to say at this point, but the two of you need to hash this out without me around.”

Effin knew he should have a million more questions to ask. Did he ever get remarried? Did he have any other kids? Why didn’t he reach out to him after his mom went to the hospital, or his aunt was killed? Hell, was his last name even Jones?

Wilson stood up and headed for the door. “Let me give you two some privacy?”

“Do you know what happened that day in woods?” Effin asked. “I mean, what really happened.”

“On second thought, maybe I’ll stay,” Wilson added, grabbing a nearby chair.

“I do.” His dad took a long drink of water before gently setting the glass on the table. He motioned for Effin to do the same. “Take a drink, Effin. It will help to calm you down.”

“I have a right to know,” Effin shot back. His hand was shaking as he grabbed the glass in front of him. He took a long drink. The water felt cool on his lips.

“I told your mother a million times not to let you play in the woods around here,” he said. “We were fully backed by the U.S. military then. It was the early stages of the program, and we were still trying to figure out Dr. Callus’ notes on the project. After the doctor’s accident, he never truly realized what he’d accomplished with his daughter and the genetic splicing that saved her life.”

“You knew about Dr. Callus’ daughter this whole time? He thought he kept it a secret.”

“He did, for a while. The operation shut down after his car went off the bridge. The people running the site decided to take the whole thing underground, out of public view and suspicion. It took a long time to get the lab up and running again. When we re-started operations, our lab techs discovered the doctor’s notes. They were able to rebuild the process he used to save his daughter. To say we were excited about the prospects was an understatement.”

“And what’s this have to do with me and that day in the woods?” Effin asked.

“It’s relevant, trust me.”

“Tell us already,” Wilson yelled. He glanced at Effin. “Oops, that one slipped.”

“The project started moving in bold new directions. I was heading up the genetic division. We all stayed pretty much to ourselves at the lab, but on occasion, human curiosity I suppose, a few of us would stray into town. That’s when I met your mother… and I fell in love.”

Effin stood up. It was all getting a little too thick for him. His entire life, his memories, his childhood, was being spilled out on the table as nothing but lies.

“I told her I worked as a security guard, keeping the lab site secure, even though it was closed down. Hell, I even bought a fake guard uniform I’d wear into town. We dated for months, and everything was perfect. She was an exceptional woman. Pretty. Smart. Funny. She made me feel like I had the whole world in my hands when I was with her. She became pregnant, and we were married by the next month. My double life was actually easier to maintain than I would have imagined. I’d come up with a new job every couple of years, just to make it harder to trace. It worked surprisingly well, that was until your incident in the woods. That changed everything.”

“I was ten!” Effin yelled back at him.

“I didn’t say it was your fault, son.” His dad stood up and moved closer to him. “You boys were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We were monitoring one of our specimens. We’d let them loose on the grounds before to test their adaptive abilities. No one knew you boys were out there. By the time we did, it was too late. We figured it had picked up the scent of blood from one of your friends. It found your fort, and its instincts kicked in.”

“Instincts? It killed my best friend!” Effin shouted. He picked up the chair next to him and heaved it across the room. It slammed into the wall.

One of the ultra-agents rushed into the room, his gun drawn. He did a quick scan, saw the broken chair, and then focused on Effin.

“Sir?”

His dad held his hands in the air. “We’re fine, agent. We’re just… working some things out. We’re going to need another moment or two.”

“Yeah, kitten-boy, why don’t you give us a minute and go lick yourself or something,” Effin snapped.

The agent stepped toward him.

“That’ll be all.” His dad stopped him in mid-stride.

Pulling a taser from a holster on his side, the agent set it on the table and slid it to Effin’s father. “Just a precaution,” he said. “I’ll be right outside.” He sneered at Effin before slamming the door.

“Are you crazy, Effin? That guy could’ve killed you. Calm down,” Wilson said, trying to sooth his friend. “I’m the one who’s dead here. You know I never held you responsible for what happened back then.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” Effin mumbled. “But I did.”

“What did you say?” his dad asked.

Effin was back in the woods, shivering inside their makeshift fort. The terror, the blood, the looks from everyone around him, who wondered if maybe, just maybe, this little kid could be a killer. The loneliness and self-doubt that followed was like an anchor permanently strapped to Effin’s back. He blacked out back in the fort. In his heart, he knew he wasn’t a killer, but there was always that hint of self-doubt that followed him around. His mom, his aunt, a life of sleepless nights and horrific nightmares, the premonitions and sketches of things no one should have to think about, let alone put to paper. Now, here’s this guy, this son of a bitch, who could have taken all that away with one simple sentence.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Effin said.

“No, son. It wasn’t.”

“Why in the hell couldn’t you have said that to me years ago?”

“My bosses weren’t very fond of my secret life in town. They humored me because of the advances I was making on the project. After the accident, they forced my hand. One of my son’s best friends was dead, found here on the same grounds where we were conducting top secret experiments. The whole town had their eyes on you, on us. Our work had a very real chance of being exposed, and we weren’t ready. I was given a choice, stay with my family and never step foot in the lab again, or stay with the project and abandon you and your mother.”

Effin’s body felt numb, like every ounce of emotion had just drained from inside him. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he walked towards his dad. He never thought of his father as a villain, more like a victim of circumstances, same as him. Their world had been pulled out from under them, and they all fell hard in their own ways. Maybe this meant he could finally put his past behind him and move on.

They stood there, face to face, father and son. Effin looked into his eyes, searching for a trace of the man he knew as a boy.

His dad opened his arms. “I’m sorry, son.”

He looked back at Wilson, who was practically in tears himself.

“I know what living without a dad is like, buddy. I don’t have a choice, but you do. You do, man.”

He turned back to his father, and sucker-punched him square in the nose.

Judging from the cracking sound, Effin felt pretty sure he broke the damn thing. His dad reeled away, cupping his hands over his face, blood flowed down his pretty white shirt. His head slammed against the wall behind him as he slid to the floor. That was better than a hundred therapy sessions wrapped into one.

“That’s for naming me Oswald.”

He lunged for the table, grabbing the taser the agent left behind. Spinning towards the door, Effin fired just as the agent came crashing into the room. Both prongs caught the man in the chest, and the electric current that followed dropped him to the floor.

“Wilson, let’s go!” he shouted, rushing passed the still sleeping Denton. He bounded over the fallen guard.

So much for family reunions. Effin took off down the corridor. They were probably a half-mile underground in a secret laboratory filled with heavily armed, genetically enhanced goons who could tear him in half. He needed something to give him the upper hand.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Wilson said, running beside him.

They stopped at the elevator doors. Effin eyed the keypad mounted next to it.

“Do you think you can open it?” he asked.

Wilson bent down on one knee and stared intently at the buttons. He rubbed his chin and touched his finger on a couple digits.

“Nope. I got nothing,” he said.

“Stick your hand in there and ghost fry it or something,” Effin said, looking down the hall to see if anyone was chasing them yet.

“What in all our years together makes you think I can do that?”

“Have you ever tried? We’ve got nothing to lose here, Wilson.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Wilson slowly dipped his hand into the front of the control panel. His brow wrinkled in concentration, and it looked like he was either trying to channel his own ghost, or he was on the receiving end of a proctology exam.

“Any time now,” Effin said.

“Concentrating.”

The shafts doors slid open as Wilson jumped back.

“You did it,” Effin said.

“I did it,” Wilson repeated in surprise. “Who knew?”

Effin hit the top button and hoped for the best. He had to admit, that was easier than he thought it would be. An alarm sounded inside the elevator as they started towards the surface. His father must have come to and hit the alarm. The ultra-agent would be all over the place looking for him. He had to move fast. The door chimed, and he hit the ground running.

He was back in the hangar bay. There were vehicles everywhere, boats, cars, motorcycles, and ATV’s. Effin jumped on a camouflaged quad and clicked on the ignition. The front wheels pulled off the ground as he struggled to get it under control. Wilson was hanging on the back.

“You’ve never driven one of these things before,” he shouted. “I would remember something like that.”

“Just relax,” Effin said. “I’m just getting my bearings.”

They roared across the warehouse floor, skidding to a stop at the bay door. Effin jumped off and hit a large green button. The hinges shifted as the metal grating retracted. He could see the forest outside.

Someone shouted behind them.

“There he is!”

The crack of gunfire echoed in the warehouse. Effin saw the bullets ricochet off the metal door in front of him. He ducked down as he gunned the throttle of the ATV and shot out under the hanger door. The headlights from the quad lit the gravel path in front of them. In the distance, he could see the road leading into the woods.

“Hold on,” he shouted over the roar of the engine.

“Like I have an option,” Wilson yelled back.

—30—

Ch-Ch-Ch… Ah-Ah-Ah

“Seriously. I am so out of shape.”

Elle stumbled over a fallen tree, trying to keep pace with Trip as they scrambled through the woods. They’d been moving at that pace for the last twenty minutes, and her inner gas tank was nearly empty. The first couple miles were fueled by sheer terror after watching the swamp wolf tear that soldier-guy apart. The last mile had been more of a state of confusion, and the cold settling in around them.

“We’re close,” Trip said, slowing down long enough to check the homing device they were using to backtrack to destinations unknown. “My best guess is another half mile.”

They hadn’t spoken since they were attacked in swamp, except for the occasional watch your head or did you hear that. She was sure Trip had seen his share of blood over the years, but it was all new to her, at least in person and not on a movie screen. Counting the fight behind the bar between Effin and Wilson’s dad, Floyd dying in the street, and then the creature from disgusting lagoon attacking them, she’d had her fill of bloodshed for say, the rest of her life.

“There was nothing you could have done,” she said, picking up the pace.

“I know.”

Trip pushed through a tangle of branches.

“It still bothers you, though,” Elle added.

“I watched a man get torn to bits, and there was nothing I could do about it,” he said. “I’m supposed to help people, not use them as a diversion to help me get away.”

“These aren’t exactly normal circumstances,” Elle stopped to let him take the lead. “Did you have a class on dealing with eight hundred-pound monsters and super soldiers at the police academy?”

“Yeah, I know, but, I’m the sheriff. I’m responsible for protecting people around here. I take that serious.”

“You’re a good sheriff, Trip. The whole town thinks so.” She grabbed him by the arm. “I think so.”

“Thanks, Elle,” he said, giving her a weak semi-smile. “That’s actually means a lot to me.”

She decided it was time to switch topics. “So, do you think Effin’s ok?” If there were more things like the one back at the pond running around, she had her doubts. She could only hope Effin was faring better than they were.

“He’s tougher than he looks. Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” Trip said. “If I can get to a phone or a radio, I can call station and get some backup here.”

“Backup would be good.”

Something cracked behind them, and they both ducked for cover in the leaves. It sounded like an explosion. Elle heard branches breaking, then something hit the forest floor with a thump that shook the ground.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

The blood-curdling scream that followed was answer enough.

“I think we pissed it off,” Trip said.

“You think?”

A tree toppled to the ground behind them.

“How close did you say we were?” she asked.

“Within running distance,” he said. “I just hope this stupid thing is leading us somewhere worthwhile.”

Elle never pegged herself as someone easily frightened. She knew how to take care of herself, dealing with drunks every night at the bar, but finding out nightmares were real, and chasing them through the woods, she had to admit - she was scared. She couldn’t shake the real possibility they wouldn’t make it out of those woods alive.

“Let’s make a break for it,” she said.

“If that thing catches up to us, I’ll try to slow it down. You keep going,” Trip said.

“We’re both getting out of her,” she said, grabbing Trip’s shirt. “Run.”

The woods were hard enough to navigate at night walking, let alone running. It was damn near impossible at a full sprint. Branches smacked off her legs and arms, each one felt like someone punching her. One caught her in the face, bringing tears to her eyes. Another tree crashed down behind them, closer than the one before.

Funny, but she thought about her mother telling her when she was a little girl to count the seconds between the thunder and the lightning to tell if the storm was getting closer. Elle wasn’t keeping track of the tree falls, but she was pretty sure lightning was about to strike them at any moment.

Trip changed course. She could see the break in the woods up ahead, the moon shining in the open field. They were going to make it. Trip bounded over something on the ground, but she wasn’t quick enough. It caught her foot, and she tumbled hard to the ground. Pulling herself up, she looked down to see what it was.

“Trip!”

He was still running ahead of her.

“It’s her,” Elle screamed. “It’s the girl!”

Trip skidded to a stop.

She crawled back to the little limp body, half covered with leaves. Brushing the foliage from her face, Elle’s heart sank. She looked so pale and dirty, her hair a tangled mess, but she still recognized her from the search flyers. Elle touched her face. She felt cold.

“No. Not after all this,” she said. “Come on. Don’t do this to me.”

She felt Trip come up behind her.

“Good god! It is her,” he said. “Is she…”

“I don’t know.” Elle slipped her hand from the girl’s face to her neck and prayed. It seemed like forever, but she finally got her answer.

“She has a pulse,” she gasped. “It’s faint, but it’s there.”

Another limb cracked, maybe twenty yards behind them. Trip drew down and held his position.

“Take the girl and get out of here,” he snapped, handing her a knife he had tucked in his boot. “Keep heading for the opening in the trees. There has to be something in that clearing. I’ll handle this.”

“I’ll never make it,” she said.

“You have to try.”

Elle scooped up the little girl up, cradling her in her arms. She made it about ten feet before the hell-beast burst through the brush behind them. Trip started firing at it. She knew she should run, but her feet were frozen to the ground. Trip dropped a clip, loading a new one in practiced rhythm. The creature swung its claw at his head. He ducked, rolling along the ground, and came up firing. One of his shots hit the thing in the eye. It rolled its head back, screaming in pain. Its tail lashed out, catching Trip behind his knees. He went down, tumbling along the forest floor. Bringing his pistol back on target, he squeezed the trigger only to hear the empty click of the chamber.

Elle looked at the clearing. It wasn’t far, but it may as well have been ten miles away.

“Shit.”

Setting the girl back down on the ground, Elle gripped the knife and ran towards Trip.

The creature had its back to her, totally focused on its next meal. She leaped over its swinging tail and landed on its back, grabbing its fur. It swung around, but she held tight and buried the knife in its neck.

Shrieking, the creature spasmed, throwing her off like a bucking bronco. She landed next to Trip and watched the lizard-wolf struggling to pull the blade free.

“We do this together,” she said, grabbing Trip by the hand and pulling him up.

“Let’s go then.”

They ran back to the girl. Trip scooped her into his arms at a half-run. Elle’s legs burned with each step as they ran towards the clearing. They broke through the woods and were on a dirt road, which made it a little easier. Another fifty feet and they would be out of those damned woods. She struggled to keep up with Trip. Twenty feet and they were home free.

Something soared over their heads, blocking the moon above them.

The monster landed in front of them, blocking the road. It spun around, froth dripping from its rows of teeth. One of its eyes was missing, making it even more terrifying. They skidded to a stop on the path. The creature charged at them. Trip turned, shielding the girl with his body. Something jumped out of the woods, straight at the creature. It was a blur of fur that flashed passed the thing’s face, leaving four deep gauges in its scaly hide.

“Friend!” it shouted.

Elle watched as the new horror crouched on all fours by the side of the path. The hair on its neck stood up straight. It seemed feral but somehow feminine as it swayed back and forth sizing up its opponent. Lunging at the lizard-wolf’s neck, the she-beast drew blood again. The other creature stumbled as she pressed her attack, clawing and biting wherever she found an opening.

Just as quick as she had the advantage, the monster lashed out, catching her with its claw. Picking her up over its head, it slammed the she-animal to the ground with a sickening thud. Whimpering, she tried to crawl away, but the thing smashed its foot into her back. She stopped moving.

Turning its attention back to Trip and Elle. She knew they were out of options. They were going to die, and no one would ever know what happened to them. She felt around on the ground, her fingers wrapping around a large rock. She wasn’t going to make it, none of them were, but she was damn sure going out fighting.

The creature roared, so loud she thought her ear drums could burst. The moon behind it shined like a spotlight, casting its shadow of death right to Elle’s feet. She mustered what strength she had left and heaved the rock.

“Go back to hell.”

It lumbered towards them. Maybe it was the fear playing tricks with her mind, but she swore the moon fell from the sky behind the raging monster heading straight toward them. The creature’s roar sounded like a racing engine. She forced herself to her feet and clenched both fists.

From that height, she could she the ATV racing towards them. The rider jumped off just before it slammed into the lizard monster’s back. She stood in the middle of the path, petrified, as the ATV pushed the creature straight at her. Someone grabbed her around the waist, dragging her back down. The mangled monster and machine both flew past her, slamming into a nearby tree.

Elle’s face was buried in the dirt. She pulled herself up to her elbows. Trip was lying next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” Elle looked around and panicked when the little girl was now where in sight. “Where is she?”

Trip pointed to the trees on the other side of the path.

“She’s over there. She’s okay.”

“Where the hell did that quad come from?” she asked.

“I can’t leave you two alone for a minute.”

Elle saw a silhouette limping towards them down the path.

“Effin!” She jumped up, running to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. “I can’t believe you found us.”

She didn’t know why, but having Effin back with them gave her feel a new feeling of hope.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I found you,” he said. “You just got in the way of my getaway. What the hell did I hit?”

“Would you believe a seven-foot tall, scale-covered werewolf?”

“Actually, yeah, I would.”

Trip came up beside them carrying the little girl in his arms. Effin stood there dumbfounded, looking at them both, before the realization sunk in.

“Is that who I think it is?” he asked.

“It’s her. We found her in the woods,” Trip said.

“Is she?”

“Barely,” Elle added.

Trip looked back at the crocodile man, still pinned to the tree.

“Do you think it’s dead?” he asked.

On cue, the ATV’s gas tank ignited, engulfing both the vehicle and the man-monster in a wall of flames.

“Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty dead,” Effin said.

Elle looked at the girl, still in Trip’s arms. She needed water, medical attention, some warm clothes. After everything they’d been through, she wasn’t about to let her die out there.

“We need to get moving,” she said.

“Agreed, but where?” Trip asked.

“There’s an entrance back into the lab about a mile or two the way I just came,” Effin said. “I don’t think they’re going to welcome us with open arms though.”

“Why’s that?” Elle asked, watching the burning tree.

“I kind of sucker punched their boss,” Effin said. “Who also just happens to be my long-lost father.”

Elle and Trip both spun around, asking in perfect unison.

“What?”

—31—

File Not Found

“Can someone explain to me how my son managed to escape from a secret underground fortress?” Dr. Jones held the cold compress tighter against his nose. He grabbed a stack of files and flung them at one of the ultra-agents standing near him. “One man! One man, and he got passed everyone last one of you.”

“Nobody was expecting him to go bat shit crazy and make a break for it, sir,” the agent stammered. “What exactly set him off?”

“He… it doesn’t matter,” Dr. Jones snapped. “What matters is that he doesn’t make it back to town, and he doesn’t tell anyone about our operation, like that Sheriff friend of his.”

“He took one of the ATV’s from the upper level garage, but we have people on all the roads leading away from the lab and more scouring the grounds. We’ll find him, sir.”

“You’d better. I want him here within the hour. Understood?” Dr. Jones pulled the ice pack away, gingerly touching his nose. “Ow.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the infirmary?” the agent asked.

“I’m fine,” the doctor insisted. “I’ll be in my private office. I expect to be updated the moment you have new information.”

Pushing passed the agent, Dr. Jones stormed down the hall. The last few days had been one disaster after the other. It started with the missing girl, which got the entire town in an uproar, then the damned search parties snooping around everyone inch of the woods above them. The alpha experiment escaped… again, and now his son showed back up in town. He hoped their reunion would have gone a little smoother, but he shouldn’t have expected any better. Not after everything he had put him through.

Inside his private chambers, he sat at his computer and pulled up his home screen. It was an old photo of him, Oswald, and his wife. It was taken years ago in front of the house they owned in town. He still wondered, at times, if he made the right decision, choosing his work over his family.

Clicking open another folder, a picture of his wife appeared. She was smiling. He skimmed over the file, the medical records diagnosing her with clinical depression after he vanished, the opiate addiction, and finally her commitment to Florence Psychiatric Hospital. He’d read the therapy notes, the prognosis, the treatment suggestions, but her condition hadn’t changed.

He didn’t lie to Oswald. He had visited her… once. He’d arranged for a private visit after paying off the staff, saying he was a distant relative. Not knowing what to expect, he even wore a fake beard and mustache. She was in a bed inside a padded room. Her eyes met his, and he immediately felt foolish, standing there in some silly disguise. He left without saying a word. He couldn’t bear to see her that way. Two days later, she tried to commit suicide. He knew he could never go back again.

He clicked on a picture of Oswald as a boy. A project file opened, showing a 3D schematic of his son’s body. Using the mouse, the doctor moved the diagram around on the screen. In the corner were the words Project Omega.

It was an exciting time at the lab. They’d made several breakthroughs based on Dr. Callus’ notes and success after success in the animal trials. When they introduced the first human subjects, there were expected complications. Finding the correct balance between the animal and human genomes proved more difficult than they would have thought. Some of the preliminary specimens proved to be more monster than man, but their goal of creating a better, stronger, faster soldier was within their reach.

He was young, brash, and ready to change the world. As the tests refined, and they widened the samples of the genetic materials used, he saw nothing but a future filled with remarkable possibilities, one he wanted his son to share. Oswald had always been a sickly child when he was young, never playing with the other children, always hanging onto his mother’s apron strings. The serum seemed the perfect solution. When he injected Oswald with the genetic cocktail he developed specifically for him, his health immediately improved, but the boy showed no early signs of enhancement. It was a disappointment at best.

One day, when his son was five, the doctor remembered sitting at the kitchen table with him. He was drawing on a notepad with some crayons, off somewhere deep in his own worlds. His mother was at the stove, cooking pasta. She turned to say something to him when Oswald interrupted, shouting for her to move away from the oven, that something bad was about to happen. She crossed the room to comfort him. He was so upset. One of the burners on the stove exploded, the scolding water splashed in the air. If she hadn’t move, she would have been scalded, maybe worse. They all just stood there, unsure what to say next. She played it off as chance, but Dr. Jones knew there was something more.

That’s when he saw the drawing on the table. It was his wife, standing at the oven, engulfed in flames.

That was it! It was more than he could have hoped for, changes on a cerebral level. It would take the project to a whole new level. He managed a blood sample later that night, while the boy slept. The next day, he could barely wait to get to the lab and analyze it. There had to be some kind of mistake. Oswald’s blood was pure, no trace of genetic manipulation. A second and third test only proved to support the first findings. Perhaps it was simply chance and fate after all.

It wasn’t until years, and hundreds of experiments later, that he discovered certain subjects had the ability to mask their genetic manipulation, but none of them displayed the precognitive abilities of his son. As many refinements as they’d made to the project; they never found a way to duplicate Oswald’s abilities.

Someone banged on his door.

“Dr. Jones, we had a thermal sensor go off on the surface. We’re pretty sure it’s your son.”

“I’ll be right there,” he replied.

He pulled a piece of paper from a folder on his desk. It was one of his son’s sketches. One of the agents ripped it from his notebook when Oswald dropped it in the garage above. The drawing was a great feral beast, sinewy muscles, sharpened claws and fangs, both dripping blood, and eyes so angry, so devoid of humanity, they glowed red with rage. The face struck him as familiar when the agent first showed him, but it wasn’t until their abrupt reunion that he realized it was his son staring at him in the sketch.

“I want two teams sent,” he said. “We can’t afford more mistakes.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll have a second team dispatched.”

He pulled a syringe from his desk, holding it up to the light before placing it in his jacket. He hadn’t figured on his son escaping. It was an unexpected delay. When he was recaptured, and he would be, the doctor would finally provide his son with the gift he tried to bestow on him so many years before.

—32—

Batter up!

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elle asked, standing beside Effin and the log he was resting on.

“My head feels a little dizzy,” he said. “But I’m fine.”

“Good. So, let me get this straight. Your father?” Trip asked, while keeping an eye on the burning pile of metal and monster in the distance.

“Yeah. I’m familiar with him,” Effin nodded.

“The same guy who complained about mowing the grass all the time, and bought us ice cream from the Goodie Man every time the truck drove by?” Trip persisted.

“Man, I miss the Goodie Man.” Effin flashed back to him and his friends standing at the curb, getting handed frozen treats by some guy in a paper hat.

“Remember those cherry dynamite freezies?” Trip asked.

“Ohhh! Those were the best!” Effin blurted. “How about…”

“Boys!” Elle yelled at them both. “Can we remember why we’re here, please?”

“Right. Sorry, Elle,” Trip said, sheepishly looking at little Libby in Elle’s arm. “This same guy, who’s been missing for years? He’s secretly running an underground genetics operation up here? That’s what you’re telling us?”

“Looks that way,” Effin answered. He had to admit, he was glad to see his friends, especially Elle. They looked like they’d been dragged through the proverbial ringer, both covered in blood and mud. He couldn’t believe they found the missing girl, let alone that she was still alive.

“Yeah, no. I’m okay, everyone,” Wilson yelled from the other side of the burning tree, just inside the wood line. “You two just keep talking about your tasty frozen treats and whoop-de-doo summers. Nobody worry about me or anything. I was just in a traumatic accident. That’s all.”

Wilson walked out from the flames. He pretended to brush some dirt off his sleeve. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the girl.

“No shit. Is that who I think it is?” he asked.

Effin nodded.

“Wow,” Wilson said. “How’d that happen?”

Something growled in the woods, and they all froze. Trip grabbed a branch and moved towards the burning tree.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “What’s does it take to kill this thing?”

Something moved in the shadows. Effin grabbed Trip’s arm and pointed.

“It’s not coming from the wreckage,” Effin said.

Anna crawled out from the brush. Her arm was bleeding. They already told Effin about the feral girl who jumped in and helped them fight the lizard thing. She jumped back into the woods, and they figured she was gone. She didn’t look very friendly at the moment. She paced back and forth on all fours, growling at them and inching closer to Libby.

“Hi,” Elle calmly said, like she was talking to a child. “I’m betting your Anna, aren’t you? We met your daddy tonight. Would you like to come with us and see him?”

“I’m out of ammo,” Trip said.

“Everyone just stay calm,” Effin said. “Don’t make any sudden movements. This is the same thing that attacked me and Elle back in town. It’s also the thing that killed Floyd.”

Anna growled at them, feeling the hostility towards her.

“Hold on,” Elle said, stepping between Anna and the group. “Think about it. She only attacked Wilson’s dad when he was getting ready to shoot us. We didn’t even know she was there before that. And she came out of nowhere to help us fight that thing back there. I think she’s trying to protect Libby.”

“Yeah, well, what about Floyd?” The pain of seeing his friend die in the street was still fresh in his thoughts. “She ran out of the alley and seconds later he was dead.”

“True, but remember that black piece of cloth you saw in Floyd’s hand?” Elle asked. “I didn’t think much about it then, but it sure seems to match the uniforms these goons up here are wearing.”

“Sonofabitch,” Effin hissed. She was right. It did match. Now, he could blame his father for the death of two of his friends.

Anna circled them, moving closer to Wilson, who stood there dumbfounded. She sniffed the air, before burying her nose at his feet. He looked up at Effin for help.

“Um… hi there, little feral girl,” Wilson said.

She looked up at the sound of his voice and walked circles around him, sniffing his pants.

“Umm… I think she actually heard me,” Wilson said, kneeling down beside her. Tentatively, he brushed his hand through her hair. She closed her eyes and purred.

“What in the hell is she doing?” Trip asked.

“I think she made a new friend,” Effin said.

“Wilson?” Elle asked, looking over at Effin.

He nodded to her. “Tell her we’re here to help the girl,” Effin said.

“Tell who?” Trip asked. His patience seemed to be wearing thin.

“You just fought off a rapid swamp-wolf, right?” Effin walked over to his friend, placing his hand on his shoulder. They didn’t have time to go through the whole story. The little girl needed medical attention, or at the very least some food and water. He hoped Trip had enough faith left in him to trust him on this. “Let’s just say there’s more going on around here than you’re used to believing in.”

“But, I…” Trip protested.

“Tell him I still want my 1963 Willie Stargell rookie card back,” Wilson said, still on his knee soothing the injured Anna.

Effin wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but they were running out of time.

“Wilson said he wants his William Stargell rookie card back,” Effin said, a little more bluntly than he intended.

“Willie!” Wilson corrected.

“Sorry,” Effin added. “Willie.”

They all stood there in silence, watching the blank expression on Trip’s face. He took a step back, turned around to see who else was there, and then looked back at Effin.

“I never told anyone about that,” he finally said. “Not even, Wilson.” Trip leaned against a tree. “We used to go over to each other’s houses and swap cards. He had a rookie Stargell card he showed off every time I came over. It was one of his prize possessions. One day, when he wasn’t looking… I took it. I was a kid.”

“You criminal,” Elle mockingly hissed.

“I know. It tore me up with guilt. I was going to give it back, slip it back in his collection the next time I went over, but that never happened. He was killed three days later. No one could have known about that card,” he said.

“I knew.” Wilson raised his hand. “Trip thought he was slick, but what he didn’t know was I inventoried my collection every time he left. I knew he had my Stargell, but I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. Cards, I had thousands. Friends, not so many.”

Wow. In all these years, Wilson never told Effin about the baseball cards. All the conversations they’ve had, he figured there were no secrets between the two of them. He chose to protect Trip rather than dish out dirt on him.

“He said you’re still a butthole,” Effin added.

“No, I didn’t,” Wilson protested.

“That sounds like him.” Trip smiled. “But how?”

“Okay, I’ll let that one slide,” Wilson said.

Libby groaned at Elle’s feet. She knelt down beside her.

“She’s awake,” she said.

Libby’s eyes opened. She looked around at them, trying to form words. The skin around her lips was dry, but she managed one word.

“Thirsty.”

Trip took her in his arms, heading for the clearing.

“Let’s go. We can figure all this out later,” he said. “She needs our help.”

Effin could see why Trip was so good at his job. He took control when people needed him to. He fell in behind him with Elle at his side. He looked back at Wilson and Anna.

“You two lovebirds coming?”

“Very funny,” Wilson said, following in behind them. Anna kept pace, tugging at his pant leg. Wilson pulled away. “Would you stop it?”

Anna jumped in front of Wilson, blocking his path. She pointed back into the woods. He tried to walk around her, but she moved with him.

Effin watched the two of them doing their impromptu dance.

“Guys, hold up,” he yelled to Trip and Elle. He asked Wilson, “What does she want?”

“Hell if I know,” Wilson replied.

Anna took a few steps into the woods before she stopped and looked back at them. She waved for them to follow.

“Come,” she said, waving at them. “Water.”

It looked like it hurt for her to say those few words. Effin looked over his shoulder. “I think she wants us to follow her. She seems to know where she’s going. I know the little girl needs water, but judging from my reception with my dad, I think we’re better off following she-wolf.”

Trip paused, looking down at Libby. “Ok. Let’s follow her. I hope it’s not a mistake.”

Anna led them back into the brush. It wasn’t long before she stopped at the base of a small hill. She clawed at the leaves on the ground, opening a hatched buried under the foliage. She disappeared into the opening.

Effin walked up to the opening and saw a metal ladder leading underground.

“Hold her for me,” Trip said, handing Libby to Effin. “I’ll check it out first, and then you guys come down.”

“But I just broke out of there,” Effin protested. He looked at the little girl in his arms. She seemed so helpless.

“We don’t have a lot of choices here,” Elle said, looking down the shaft.

“At least wild child left me alone.” Wilson came up beside them. “She smells like rat poop.”

“All clear down here,” Trip yelled.

Effin nodded. “Ladies first.”

“You’re too kind.” She took a few tentative steps on the first couple rungs, but then disappeared into the dark.

Effin looked back at the burning ATV. He could still smell the burning flesh from whatever the hell that thing was. Wilson was pacing around the hatch

“This has bad written all over it,” Wilson said.

“She needs our help,” Effin answered.

“Yeah, the whole world needs help, Effin, but they’re not stuck in the middle of a bad B-rated horror movie with the main character’s dad doing his best impersonation of Dr. Moreau.”

He never really thought about it that way, but Wilson pretty much hit it on the head. His dad really was a mad scientist, creating monsters, working in secret labs. All they needed was a torch-carrying mob, and they could call it a wrap. But if his dad was Dr. Frankenstein, then what did that make him?

Trip’s shined his light up at Effin.

“What are you doing up there? Sightseeing?” Trip yelled.

“Let’s go,” he said, looking over at Wilson.

“You lead. I follow. That’s how we roll.”

Effin shifted Libby in his arms, propping her head near his shoulder, he navigated the ladder, slowly making his way to the bottom. Trip was shining his light down the corridor. It felt cold. They were probably twenty feet below ground. From the looks of it, that section of the laboratory hadn’t been used in years. There were cobwebs everywhere and maybe an inch of dust on the floor.

“I thought you said they were still using this place?” Elle asked.

“Evidently not all of it,” Effin said. “Where’s Anna?”

On cue, Anna appeared out the shadows, scampering over to the ladder as Wilson stepped off.

“Oh, come one,” he said. “Give me a break here, furry britches.”

“You always said you wanted a girlfriend.” Effin couldn’t help himself, even with Trip and Elle standing right next to him.

“Yeah, but I was hoping for one that was at least house trained,” Wilson snapped, shaking his leg.

“Wilson?” Elle asked, looking at Effin.

“Yep. He found a new friend. Should I be jealous?”

“I think it’s cute,” she said.

“Which way to the water, Effin? Can you ask… Wilson?” Trip asked.

He could tell his friend was still uncomfortable with the idea that their dead buddy was there with them. He couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly an easy transition for him at first either.

“I can hear you, idiot,” Wilson said. “Does he think I need a ghost translator? Tell him he needs to shave that uni-brow.”

“Wilson said he’s glad to ask her.”

“I did not.”

Effin pointed at him. “Would you just do it already?”

“Okay. Okay.” Wilson bent down on one knee. “Smelly cat, where is the water you promised? Water.”

Anna nodded, trotting down the hall. Trip lead the way with his light.

“You all realize that we’re trusting someone who walks on all fours,” Wilson added.

They stayed in a tight group, making their way down the corridor. Doors lined each side of the hall. Effin peeked into each door as they passed. Most were fairly empty, except for the occasional office chair or errant file cabinet. As they went deeper into the passage, the interiors changed. Empty cages filled the rooms, the doors wide open. He paused at one of them.

There was a metal table with a giant light hanging from the ceiling. It looked like an operating room. Effin stepped inside and saw the leather straps connected to the table. One of the restraints was torn free, hanging to the side. Whatever broke free from there, he wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of. Turning to leave, he noticed the blood stain on the floor. It led back out into the hall. The group was a couple rooms ahead of him. He looked back the way they came. What if there was more than one of those things running around? It took all of Trip’s ammo, a couple knife wounds, and a recreational vehicle to stop the first one. They’d pretty much exhausted their resources.

“Effin, down here!” Elle called back to him. “Anna found something.”

He carried Libby down the hall, but they’d already vanished behind one of the doors. The room was huge. Tables and chairs were spread out across the space, most sitting upright, some toppled over. Against the far wall was a long metal counter with glass enclosures. Wilson was standing next to one of them.

“I think we found the cafeteria,” Wilson said.

“Any chance of a hot meal?” Effin asked.

“Doubtful.”

“Only if you build a fire and catch your own rat,” Elle said, standing next to Trip on the other side of the counter. “We do have a working sink, though.”

Effin set Libby on the counter near the faucet. She wasn’t heavy, but his shoulders were starting to ache. Elle found a glass in one of the cabinets. She let the water run for a minute. It was a lot clearer than Effin expected it to be. Maybe they’d tapped into an underground well or something. Elle took a sip before wetting her fingers and dabbing water on Libby’s lips. The girl’s face twitched.

“Sit her up, Effin,” Elle said.

He propped her up, supporting her back, as Elle brought the glass gently to her lips. It only took a few sips before Libby pulled her hands up, taking the glass.

“Not too much at once,” Elle warned. She found a rag in a drawer, soaking it and dabbing Libby’s face. “You’re looking better already.”

“Momma?” The girl’s eyes fluttered. She looked around. Effin could see the fear in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re friends. Nobody is going to hurt you.”

Anna sat next to Wilson in the corner. He was lightly petting the back of her neck when her tail thumped into the side of the counter. Libby’s eyes welled with tears as she pulled her feet up, burying her face in Effin’s chest.

“No. No. No,” she cried. “Don’t let it get me.”

Effin was almost as surprised as her. His child-comforting skills left something to be desired, but he knew he needed to do something. He clumsily patted her back.

“It’s okay. She’s not going to hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”

Anna retreated to the corner of the kitchen, whimpering. Slowly, she approached Effin, her head hanging low.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Trip said.

Elle pulled Libby’s face from Effin’s shirt. She cupped the girl’s cheeks in her hands and bent down next to her. She smiled, taking a motherly tone.

“Hey. It’s okay to be scared. I know. You miss your mom,” she said. “But we’re going to help you get back to her. Promise.”

Libby sniffled. Effin was pretty sure she wiped some snot on his sleeve in the process. She looked down at Anna.

“It’s a monster,” she said.

“Who? Anna?” Elle asked. “No. She’s not a monster. She’s just a scared girl, like you. She doesn’t want to hurt you.”

On cue, Anna rubbed her nose against Libby’s leg. At first touch, the girl recoiled, but it only took a moment for her to settle down. She reached down and petted Anna on the head.

“Her fur’s soft,” Libby said, finally mustering a smile. “I think she likes me.”

Anna put her arms on the edge of the counter, gently rubbing her head against Libby’s leg. The little girl giggled and squeezed her neck

“But why did she take me away from Momma?” Libby asked.

“What do you mean?” Trip asked. “What happened in the field?”

Libby squirmed in her seat, the memories visibly painful for her to bring back. Maybe it was because Anna was sitting next to her. She cleared her throat, tears dripping down her cheek.

“Momma and me were having a picnic. She saw a man near the woods, and said she’d be right back. I was scared being alone, but then something else was there too. I tried to get away, but then I found this pile of red sticky stuff, like in the movies.”

“What was in the field, sweetie?” Elle put her arm around Libby, rubbing her shoulder.

“I don’t know for sure. It was big and hairy and jumped at me,” she said, brushing her hand under her nose.

Effin stepped back, not wanting to get a second dose of snot on his shirt.

“I heard growling. It was angry, and the next thing I remember was waking up in that cold room. Anna was there with me. She wouldn’t let me leave.”

Effin nodded at Wilson, who shook his head no.

“Ask her,” Effin said.

“Since when did I get appointed the group’s animal interpreter?” he asked.

“Just do it.”

Huffing, he leaned closer to Anna and spoke super slow. “Smelly, did you take the little girl?”

Anna shook her head back and forth.

Elle looked at Effin. “What did he ask?

“He asked if she was the one who took her.”

Wilson incorporated a series a hand gestures into his next questions, like a crude form of sign language.

“If you didn’t take her, then who did?”

Anna closed her eyes, concentrating as she sputtered her words.

“Others.” She pointed at her chest. “Protect.”

“I think she’s trying to say there was something else out there trying to make an afternoon snack of little Libby,” Wilson said. “And our odoriferous furry friend here saved her.”

“Your powers of deduction are truly amazing,” Effin said.

Something slammed outside in the hall.

“Effin? Did you close the hatch behind you when you came down?” Trip asked.

“Uh, no. I kind of hand my arms full,” he answered. “Nobody said anything about closing the door.”

Trip searched the counter and drawers around them. He found a metal meat tenderizer in one of them, gripping the handle.

“Is he planning to invite them inside for a quick lunch?” Wilson asked.

“Sounds like whoever they are, they found us,” Trip said, pointing to a door at the rear of the kitchen. “We need to get moving.”

Elle lifted Libby off the counter. “Can you walk?”

Libby nodded as they made their way to the back of the room.

“This night just keeps getting better and better,” Wilson chimed. “Hey, Wilson! Why don’t we head back to our hometown for a couple days? We can help find that missing girl. It’ll be fun to catch up with everyone. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Come on,” Effin snapped at his friend.

He pulled the door shut behind them, wishing he found a meat cleaver of his own.

—33—

Take a lap

Officer Michael Hodgkins wasn’t worried when his boss didn’t immediately answer him on the radio. The Chief had a way of doing his own thing, and he didn’t like to have tabs kept on him. He was a good boss, always there for morning roll call at the station, and afternoon shift, and usually well into the evening too. The people of Rumors Mill made a good choice when they choose Trip to take over after his father had to step down.

Still, after a couple hours of radio silence, Hodgkins was starting to get worried. He’d already drove passed the Chief’s house, and he made small talk with the Chief’s wife. He was careful to keep the conversation light. He didn’t think she picked up on him being worried. She knew he was working around the clock trying to find the missing girl. They both chalked it up to him probably following up on a lead somewhere. He promised he’d have the Chief call her as soon as he tracked him down.

“Hodgkins to base.”

Radio reception always got sketchy out near the abandoned lab. He could never figure out why the place was even in their jurisdiction. It was miles away from town. The Chief explained when they first built the place, the only way they’d give them the permits to start working on it was to expand the city limits in a very oddly shaped line to include the area surrounding the lab. Something to do with property and tax benefits for the town. Unfortunately, that also meant the lab fell under the jurisdiction of their department.

The cruiser’s tires touched dirt as the deputy started up one of the side roads leading to the main building.

“Hodgkins to station, repeat, Hodgkins to station. I’m up at the Farm. I’ll be out of radio contact.”

“Station to Hodgkins. Received. Be careful up there.”

“Will do, Lucy.”

The place gave him the creeps. He heard all the stories about the research they did there, switching animal parts, heads, legs, even brains. He flicked on his high beams and wound down the window, listening to the dirt crunch under the tires. The car hit a rut, and he slowed down. He was still in grade school back when that Jones boy got killed. The story going around the playground was they were all into Satanism. He knew better than to say that to the Chief, even if it was just some silly rumor.

There were a half-dozen roads leading to the lab, but Hodgkins didn’t want to take one of the more travelled ones. If the Chief was in some kind of trouble, which he had a growing feeling he was, he was hoping to sneak up there unnoticed.

Rounding the next corner, he saw the back end of a pickup truck pulled off into the woods. He stopped and lit up the truck with the spotlight mounted to the side of his cruiser. It didn’t look like anyone was inside.

“What the hell? I don’t have time for no parkers.”

He felt something weird was going on between the Chief and that Jones guy back in the search tent that morning. He knew the two of them had history, but he couldn’t figure out why he’d let that guy anywhere near the search site. When they found that weirdo’s notebook in the warehouse, he was glad the chief finally put the cuffs on him. That still didn’t explain the empty jail cell in town where they put Jones earlier. He figured the Chief would have some answers, only he pulled a vanishing act of his own.

He touched the tailgate as he crossed between the truck and his cruiser, approaching from the passenger side like they taught at the police academy. Shining his light in the truck’s window, he saw no one was inside. He hoped it was just a couple kids fooling around. Looking around, there was no one in sight.

Great. He’d have to run the plate to get an owner. Maybe it was stolen, and they ditched it. He didn’t want to get caught up in another incident while he was trying to track down his boss. Earlier, he had Lucy trace the GPS in the Chief’s car. It put him right in the center of the old lab. He couldn’t be more than a half mile away. The truck would have to wait.

His hand was on the door handle of the cruiser when someone racked a shotgun behind him.

“Step away from the car.”

“You realize you’re pointing a gun at a police officer,” he said.

He guessed the uniform and marked car was a given. All he could see in the window’s reflection was a blur.

“I know who you are, Mikey.” The voice sounded gruff, and angry. “What I don’t know is what you’re doing up here all by yourself?”

“Coach Parkins?”

Say what you wanted about living in a big city, but there were still advantages to growing up in a small town. It was a lot harder to forget a voice, especially the one that coached you in high school baseball.

“Of course, it’s me. Who else would be driving my truck?”

The officer turned around to face his former coach, who had a double-barreled shotgun pointed square at his chest. Even ten feet away, he could smell the whiskey on the man. A half-dozen other men were standing behind him. All of them armed.

“Any particular reason you have a gun pointed at me?” Hodgkins asked, hoping there wasn’t.

He figured his vest could handle the shot, especially if Coach only loaded it with buck shot, but he really didn’t want to find out. Hodgkin’s hand hung at his side, near his gun. The old man’s eyes were glossed over, but it was more than just the alcohol taking effect. He looked afraid.

“You know where the Chief is, Mikey?”

“I could ask you the same thing. That’s who I’m looking for too,” he answered. “His GPS says he’s up here somewhere.”

“And what business would he have up here?” One of the other men asked.

Several of them nodded in agreement. Hodgkins didn’t like the way the situation was forming up. It had all the makings of a mob, and he was on the wrong side of it. Coach wasn’t the only one that looked like they’d been exercising their elbows before they got there. Drunk and armed was never a good mix.

He sure wished Coach would lower that gun. “That’s exactly what I’m looking to ask him,” Hodgkins said. “What the hell is going on up here?”

The old man stared at him, head tilted into the sights of the shotgun. He hadn’t noticed it before, but he could see his hand trembling against the gun’s stock. Whatever put a scare into him did a damn good job.

“Aw, hell.” Coach Parkins dropped the barrel of the gun. “I ain’t going to shoot you, Mikey. You been a good kid since the fourth grade.”

Mike drew a deep breath and pulled his hand away from his own holster. He opened the door to his cruiser and grabbed his thermos, filled with hot coffee. He poured some into the cap and handed it to his old coach. Not having to focus on the barrel of a gun, he recognized the other men in the group, Ted the barber, Larry and Barry from the carwash, Horace the middle grade history teacher, and Bart. No one really knew how Bart made his money.

“Here,” he said to Coach Parkins. “It looks like you need this more than I do.”

The man took the cup and nodded. “You have no idea.”

“Why don’t you fill me in then?”

After taking a long sip, the coach set it on the hood of the police car. He leaned against the front fender, leaning the shotgun against the tire.

“I’m sure you know about all the commotion in town. The fight behind Willy’s and that wolf thing that attacked them and Floyd?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t there, but Lucy at dispatch gave me the details. They think it might be a coyote or something.”

“Well, ain’t no kinda coyote I ever seen. I was on the street when some critter came running out of the alley, ran right into poor Floyd. Some guy dressed in all black jumped out of a van and tried to catch it. Floyd got in between them, and that guy sliced him up like a piece of meat. I yelled for them and the critter ran off into town. I tried to follow it, but I lost it around Maple Street. Next thing I knew I heard a gunshot and that same weird black van with tinted windows was driving around. It stopped behind an alley, and these two big fellas carried a couple bodies over to it. They drove off in a hurry. Next thing I know, I see the Chief’s standing in the same back yard.”

“Did you tell him what you saw?” he asked.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Coach said. “So, I flagged down Bart back there and we followed that van out of town, and wouldn’t you know they came straight up here.”

“Where’d your homemade posse come from?” Hodgkins asked.

“Figured I’d need some back up, so I came back to town and rounded up some of the boys from down at Willy’s.”

“This damn place has been nothing but trouble since they built it,” Ted chimed in. “It’s time we figured out what the hell is going on out here.”

“Sounds like the whiskey talking, Ted.” Hodkins didn’t want to agitate these guys. He was in the middle of nowhere and outnumbered. The fact that one of them drove their truck up there drunk would have to get addressed later. Still, he couldn’t let them know he wasn’t the one in control on the situation. Another thing the Chief taught him.

“Maybe the chief knows more than he’s letting on?” Coach blurted. “Maybe they like to keep their secrets in the family, if you know what I mean?”

“Or maybe he was just following up on a lead to the shooting?” Hodgkins suggested. He didn’t like where Coach Parkins was heading with this. He was a little suspicious of the situation too, but he needed to defend his boss.

“Yeah, well, you need to come see this.” Coach picked up his shotgun and started up the path, waving for Deputy Hodgkins to follow. His group of merry men stumbled up the hill after him.

“Hold on,” Hodgkins said. “Let me get some more backup heading this way.”

The whole Rumors Mill P.D. consisted of seven officers. Besides him and the chief, he figured the rest of them were home and in bed, so the cavalry wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Still, it couldn’t hurt to get a few extra guys up there. He keyed the mike in his cruiser.

“Hodgkins to station.”

Nothing.

“Hodgkins to station. Come in.”

It was working just a few minutes ago.

“Ain’t going to work,” Coach said. “I tried the CB in the truck and my cell phone. This whole place is one big dead zone.”

He grabbed his shotgun from the rack mounted between the seats, stuffing extra shells into his shirt pocket. He caught up with the others halfway up the hill.

“It feels like someone’s watching us,” Hodgkins said.

“They’ve been watching us since we stepped foot on the property,” Coach answered, never missing a step. “They’re always watching.”

“Who’s watching?” Car Wash Larry asked.

“Don’t know. But they’re out there.” Coach stared into the surrounding tree line.

The woods were quiet, not even the chirp or buzz of an insect could be heard. Every twig they stepped on, or rock they kicked, sounded like an alarm going off, saying Here I am, come and get me!

“Up there,” Coach said, pointing to the parking lot near the lab.

At first, Hodgkins was relieved to see the Chief’s car, but then he saw all four doors were wide open and the flashers were on.

“Why would he use the flashers and not the emergency light bar?” Hodkins thought out loud.

“That ain’t the half of it,” Coach answered, approaching the police car from the side.

He was right. There were plenty more disturbing things to see when the deputy looked in the back seat. It looked like someone left a wildcat loose, scratches and tears from one side to the other. Blood, and what looked like animal hair was everywhere. He picked up a piece of hair with his glove and held it up to the light. It was thick and coarse, definitely not human. There was glass mixed with the blood. Something had shattered the side window trying to get to whoever was inside the car.

“Over here,” Coach said, standing at the edge of the parking lot.

“What do you have?” Hodgkins asked.

“There’s more blood on a tree stump here, and I found some forty caliber casings on the ground. Somebody was fighting.”

“Do you think it was the Chief?” Hodgkins bent down near the stump. The blood was already starting to thicken in the cool night air. Whatever happened, it was pretty recent. He picked up one of the casing and looked at the end. It was the same brand issued to all R.M.P.D. officers.

“Looks like they took off this way,” Bart said, pointing into the woods.

“Why wouldn’t they try to make it back to the car?” Hodgkins asked.

“Let’s find them and ask,” Coach said, heading deeper into the woods. “You boys fan out, but stay in sight. Hodgkins, you stay with me.”

“Um, I’m the police officer here,” Hodgkins said.

“Shut up or I’ll make you drop and give me twenty.”

“Right behind you, Coach.”

—34—

It’ll only hurt for a minute

“Now, what are we going to do with you?” The man hovering over him asked.

Denton knew he was in trouble when he woke up and realized his hands were tied… again. It’s not a feeling you get used to. Actual terror kicked in when he realized he was strapped down to a table in what looked like a giant laboratory. Large cages lined the walls all around him, their doors open, and empty. Thick chains were bracketed into the floor outside the cages, like the ones back in the van that brought him there. Whatever they held must have been dangerous. In the other corner of the room was a white sheet draped over something on the floor.

He’d never saw the man in the lab coat before. His smile seemed warm, perhaps cordial, but there was something unsettling about him. The whole situation had spiraled way out of control. It didn’t matter who was blamed for what any more. He was in way over his head, and needed to get to a phone and call his father. He’d know what to do or, more specifically, who to pay off.

“Where am I?” Denton asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“You’re someplace secure,” the man assured. “My place.”

“I need to make a phone call,” Denton demanded. “I know my rights.”

The man chuckled. “And who are you going to call? Your father?” He picked up a clipboard from a nearby table. “Denton Hawthorne Corningwood Sr? Would that be him?”

“How do you know my father?” Denton asked. That actually gave him a small ping of hope. If this person knew who his father was, then he knew the influence he held, and the people he controlled.

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” The man placed the clipboard down and walked over to a set of controls. “I know you though. You’ve been a very bad boy recently. Haven’t you?”

Denton felt two steps behind their conversation, not a place he was comfortable with. “If you did know my father, then you would realize just how big of a mistake you’re making.”

“Would I now?” The man hit a switch on the panel in front of him. A TV monitor flickered on.

Denton watched as a video came on screen. It was footage from last night at the old laboratory using night vision technology. He watched as they dragged Murphy’s body across the warehouse floor. Caesar hovered over his friend’s body when they discovered he was still alive. Denton saw the relief wash over his friend’s face.

The man pointed at the screen. “I have to admit. This next part even made me shudder, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

Denton glanced back at the screen, just in time to watch him shoot Caesar in the head from behind. His friend dropped to the ground. Picking up a nearby brick, he then went on to maliciously beating Murphy with it. Looking at it like that, from a third person view, almost like he was standing outside his own body, he realized how vicious the acts were. He was a cold-blooded killer. A jury would have a field day watching that video. Even his father’s money couldn’t buy him out of that.

“Who the hell are you?” Denton snapped.

“You may call me Dr. Jones,” the man said. “You’re in my laboratory several stories under the earth. We have some business to tend to tonight, you and I.”

Denton felt what little hope he held onto slowly fade. His father taught him that no situation was without a solution, and if reason wasn’t an option, there was really only one option left. The one thing everyman truly desired.

“How much do they pay you, Dr. Jones?” Denton asked. “I mean, I’m assuming someone has to pay you for your work. Right?”

The man chuckled, not the kind of laugh that brought smiles to other faces. He walked over to a silver tray, picking up a syringe. Holding it up to the light, Denton saw the blue liquid inside. He looked down at his arm and realized there was already an IV taped to his forearm. The time for negotiations was passed.

“I can have a half-million dollars in your hands within the hour,” Denton blurted.

The doctor seemed oblivious to the proposal, instead checking the instrument cluster behind the table.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Denton could feel his voice trembling. “A half-million dollars!”

“I heard you,” he said, moving to another set of dials.

“One million!”

Dr. Jones plucked the end of the needle, checking for air bubbles. He turned back to Denton.

“Ten million dollars.” Denton could barely get the words out. His throat felt dry, and his fingers were tingling from the straps cutting off his circulation.

Dr. Jones paused.

“That really is a life-changing amount of money,” the doctor said.

“One phone call. That’s all it’ll take.”

“Your father must really love you,” Dr. Jones said.

“I’m his only son. His heir,” Denton said, tears streaming down his face.

“What’s that have to do with love?”

“Ten million. All yours. Get me to a phone.” Denton’s cards were down. There was still a chance he’d walk away from this whole nightmare. It would probably mean draining every last cent from his trust fund, but at least he’ll still be breathing.

“Your money means nothing to me,” Dr. Jones said, plunging the syringe into the IV port in Denton’s arm. “But don’t be mistaken, dear boy, you are extremely valuable to me.”

Denton’s arm felt like it was dipped into ice. Whatever he just injected him with was traveling up his veins and into his chest.

“What did you do to me?” Denton asked.

“I’ve just increased your net worth exponentially,” the doctor said. “You’re going to help keep our whole operation here a secret.”

Denton’s heart raced. He’d done his share of recreational drugs, but never felt anything like this. His muscles convulsed, struggling against the straps holding him down. He felt… powerful.

“It feels amazing. Doesn’t it?” the doctor asked, moving across the room. He stood near the sheet covering something in the corner.

Denton could feel the muscles in his arms and legs expand, the sheer mass of his new body tested his bonds. Whatever that quack had done to him, he’d regret in another moment.

“We’ve tried very hard to keep the past buried around here,” the doctor said. “But when the little girl went missing, in our own backyard no less, we knew it would all begin again. Memories have a way of becoming myth, and folklore often leads to curiosity.”

The band holding Denton’s leg snapped. He could feel the cold tile as his foot found the floor, giving him extra leverage to work against the other restraints.

“Before we knew it, we had search parties combing the grounds as rumors of monsters resurfaced.” Dr. Jones grabbed the edge of the sheet. “Callus’ daughter has been a pain in our collective side for years, but then she went and allowed herself to be spotted in town tonight. They’ll be no stopping the townsfolk on their quest for answers. Unless of course, we give them what they want.”

Pulling away the blanket, the bodies of Caesar and Murphy lay in a tangled bloody mess of limbs on the floor.

“And that is… a monster.”

Denton broke one of his arms free. He stared at the corpses of his friends, the anger welling inside of him. His head felt cloudy, more emotion than thought. All he wanted to do was hurt something, make it feel the same pain he was. He tore his other arm loose.

Dr. Jones looked down at his watch. “That’s where you come in.”

Straining against the last restraint, Denton’s body convulsed, the adrenalin fading from his system. His vision blurred as he dropped to the floor, the rush of energy replaced with searing pain. His bones shifted, tendons stretching beyond their means. His skin was on fire. His jaw pulling away from his face. Looking down, he watched as his fingernails formed into claws.

“When the search parties come back tomorrow morning,” Dr. Jones said, “They’ll find the mangled remains of your two friends. Plus, they’ll have the monster responsible for it all. You.”

—35—

The shallow end of Gene’s pool

They’d been running through the underground tunnels of the abandoned portion of the lab for the last ten minutes. Effin didn’t know how Trip was keeping that pace plus carrying Libby. Wilson and Anna trotted up beside him.

“One of the few perks of ghost-hood,” Wilson chimed. “No shortness of breath, well, no breath. You okay there, buddy?”

“I’m fine,” Effin snapped, taking in a huge gulp of breath. Every time they thought they finally lost the goons in black, they’d hear them coming from somewhere behind them. It didn’t make sense. They’d made at least two dozen twists and turns through the labyrinth of halls. How’d these guys stay on their trail at every turn?

Anna stopped at the next intersection, sniffing the air before she sprinted off in another direction.

“This way,” Trip waved, following her.

“I don’t know how long we can keep this up,” Elle said, her words coming between breaths.

That’s when Effin realized. They smelled. Well, they all probably were pretty ripe, but that’s how the agents were staying on their trail, just like their new furry friend, Anna. No matter how many turns they made, they weren’t losing these guys. They may as well be leaving a trail of bread crumbs. Sooner or later, they were going to have to face them. Effin was hoping it would be later. He made his way up to Trip.

“We’re never going to lose them,” Effin said. “They’re following our scents.”

The look on Trip’s face said he’d already figured that out.

“I think we need to change tactics,” Trip said. “We need to get Libby out of here.”

“What do have in mind?” Effin asked.

Trip stopped at the next intersection.

“We split up,” he said.

“No,” Elle snapped, stopping next to them. “Don’t even think about it. We stay together.”

Trip smiled at her.

Trip’s mind was already made up. Effin had a sinking feeling the decision would come with consequences. He hoped they were ready for them.

He handed Libby to Effin. She felt heavier in his arms than she did before. She looked up at him.

“I’m scared,” she said.

He pushed the hair from her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. He wasn’t a hero. It just wasn’t in his DNA, but here was this little girl, helpless in his arms. She needed to escape the monsters chasing after her, like his Aunt Gertie had helped do for him. Maybe that was the real reason he came back, not to be a hero, not to prove the whole town was wrong about him, but to be there for this one little lost soul when she needed someone the most.

“I got you,” Effin whispered in her ear.

“You keep moving. No matter what,” Trip said, turning back the way they just came. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

Effin grabbed Trip’s shoulder, twisting him around.

“No.”

He thrust Libby into his friend’s arms.

“It’s me they’re after, at least more than you guys. Get Libby out of here. She’s had enough horror for one lifetime.”

Effin took off running down one of the adjacent halls.

“Effin!” Elle yelled.

Wilson stood there, flat-footed, watching his friend run away.

“Wait up, you doofus! Now’s a hell of a time to play here!” He took off after him.

“They’ll pick up my scent and come after me,” Effin yelled back. “You go the other way. Worst case scenario, we’ll split them up and having a fighting chance.”

Effin rounded the next corner. He didn’t want to stay around long enough for someone to talk him out of it. A door slammed somewhere behind him. Damn. Those goons were closer than he thought. He hoped the plan worked.

“Don’t trip on your cape,” Wilson said, coming up beside him.

“Yeah, well, shut up.”

The hallway was dark. He tried moving as fast as he could, drawing them away from his friends. There were metal trays, the occasional office chair, and medicine carts spread out all through the hall. One wrong move and he’d trip over one of them, probably knock his own dumb ass out. His chest pounded. It sounded like every breath he took was coming out of a trumpet. They didn’t need to worry about following his smell. Hell, he may as well have had a GPS and flashing light strapped to his head.

There was a set of double doors at the end of the hall. He slammed into the center bar and crashed into the next room. The floor disappeared from under him. Effin felt himself falling, helplessly. The room spun around him. He waited for the impact with the ground.

Instead, he heard the splash, and his world slipped underwater. What little breath he had was forced out of his lungs by the cold sting of the water. The room was dark. He thrashed around, unsure which way was up. Panic set in.

His hand touched something solid above his head. He planted both palms, pushing his way back to what he hoped was the surface. The cool air on his face was a relief as he drew in a giant breath of air. He splashed helplessly in the water. Swimming was never his strongest skill. His feet touched something solid, and he stood up. The water only came to his shoulders. Thank God.

“You might want to watch out for that pool,” Wilson yelled down from the edge of the concrete.

“Thanks for the warning,” Effin said, wading towards the side of the pool. “Who puts an Olympic-sized swimming pool inside a government laboratory?”

“Mad scientists need exercise too,” Wilson said, walking along the pool’s edge toward a metal ladder.

Effin looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, moonlight streaming down from the forest above him. The pool was actually half-empty. One of the pool lane ropes dangled down from the hole leading to the surface. Someone must have tried to use it as an escape route.

He grabbed the ladder rungs, pulling himself half out of the water. A set of doors slammed open, as two shadowed figures crept in from the hall.

“Ollie, ollie, oxen-free!” one yelled.

Effin slowly lowered himself back into the water.

“He’s in here somewhere,” the other said, circling around the opposite side of the pool.

The second agent sniffed the air. “I had him up to the door, but I lost his scent.”

Effin could see the fluorescent glow of their eyes, which made them look ten times creepier. One of the agents dropped to all fours. There was a room directly across from Effin. It was probably a locker room of some type. There was no way he was climbing out of the pool and making it there before one of the agents would be all over him. He needed a distraction.

Wilson stood at the top of the ladder. He put his finger up to his lips and comically tip-toed along the pool’s rim towards one of the agents. The quasi-soldier activated the light mounted on his rifle and was slowly searching the swimming pool below him. It would only be a matter of seconds before they spotted Effin. His partner was on the opposite side of room, looking through a box of life preservers.

Wilson stopped directly behind the agent with the rifle.

What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t like he could push him in. This was hardly the time for practical jokes. He tried to wave him away, but it was pointless.

Wilson drew in a deep breath, raising his arms above his head, before letting out his best scream queen horror movie screech.

“Aaaiieeerrrggghh!”

The agent jumped straight in the air, like a cat getting its tail caught in the rocker. If they weren’t in a life or death situation, Effin would have found the whole thing a lot funnier. He fired a blast from his rifle that shredded through the water right next to Effin’s head. He pulled himself in closer to the pool wall.

His partner jumped up, cracking his head against the lid of the equipment box.

“What the hell are you waiting for,” Wilson screamed. “Run!”

Effin scrambled up the ladder. He heard something splash behind him and figured it was the goon with the rifle landing in the pool. Effin sprinted for the locker room door. It was harder than he thought to run in soaking wet clothes. Another volley of shots echoed across the room as the bullets struck wall beside him. He could feel the plaster biting his skin.

“There he is!” one of them yelled.

Effin slammed the door behind him, locking it. What he thought was a locker room turned out to be an old fitness room, complete with weight-lifting equipment, treadmills, stationary bikes, and an assortment of free weights against the wall. What there wasn’t was a way out. He was trapped.

“Sonofabitch,” Effin mumbled.

Wilson phased through the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “Keep moving!”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Effin said.

Wilson looked around.

“Shit.”

“Double shit,” Effin confirmed.

Effin grabbed a weight bar from a nearby rack and propped it under the door knob. The rubber flooring helped it wedge in pretty tight. He needed a plan, but figured he only had half a minute before the agents broke down the door and made short work of him. Grabbing the first thing he could find, he spun back around.

“What are you planning to do?” Wilson asked. “Aerobocize them?”

Effin looked down at the jump rope.

Something slammed into the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges, but the bar held for the moment.

“Just come on out of there, and you won’t get hurt. Much,” the guy yelled through the door. “The boss just wants to talk.”

“He’ll have to make an appointment like everyone else,” Wilson said.

“The hard way it is then.”

Effin dropped to the floor as the shots exploded through the door, showering the tiny weight room with shards of wood. He rolled to his side, bracing his back against the wall.

“Did you have to piss him off?” Effin asked. “And how did you know they could hear you?”

Wilson sat on one of the exercise bikes, pretending to push the pedals. “I figured if stinky-cat could hear me, then maybe the goon brothers could too. Heads up.” He pointed at the door.

A leather clad fist burst through the wood, reaching blindly for the door’s lock. Dropping the jump rope, Effin grabbed a dumbbell from the floor. Using both hands, he slammed it down on the agent’s arm. The sound of bones crunching made him cringe.

“Aarrgh!”

The arm retreated back through the hole.

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“Aw, the poor puppy hurt his paw,” Wilson said.

The agent shoved his face through the hole. His eyes flared in anger as the spit shot out from between his fangs.

“You just signed your death—”

The dumbbell cracked him square in the nose, snout, whatever. Effin couldn’t believe he actually stuck his head in the door. He couldn’t ask for a better target. He swung the weight with both hands. The guy tumbled backwards, out of sight. Effin dropped the weight and stood there, unsure what to do next. Where was his partner? He took a chance and peeked through the hole in the door. The guy was unconscious on the floor. There was no sign of anyone else.

“What do you think?” Effin asked.

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Wilson came up behind him.

“I mean about the other guy.”

“He fell pretty hard when I scared the fur off him,” Wilson said. “Maybe we both took one out. We can’t stay in here all night.”

“Good point.”

Effin move the weight bar and unlocked the door, easing it open. He peered outside, but couldn’t find the other agent, just the one out cold at his feet.

“You know, I could have just walked through the door and looked around.”

“Now was a good time to offer that.”

Effin looked at the rope hanging down from the hole in the ceiling. If he waded back into the pool, he could reach it and climb to the surface. The idea of getting back in the cold water sent a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t see much of a choice. He sure wasn’t going back into that maze of hallways.

“Hey, slugger, over here,” Wilson said, standing by the edge of the pool.

“What is it?” Effin looked into the pool at the body of the second ultra-agent floating face down in the water. A circle of blood surrounded his head.

“He must have hit it on the side of the pool,” Wilson said. “I killed him.”

“It was him or me, pal.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “You know I just have a thing about death, being dead and all.”

Effin lowered himself back into the pool and waded towards the dangling cord. He looked up at the ceiling. It looked a lot higher from that angle.

“I don’t think I’ve done this since gym class,” Effin said.

Wilson stood in the water next to him. “And you weren’t too good at it back then from what I remember.”

Effin grabbed the rope as high as he could and hoisted himself up. “Thanks. Let’s just hope Elle and Trip are doing better than we are.”

—36—

Needle… meet haystack

“Hold on. I’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

Elle ripped off the bottom of her shirt, making a makeshift bandage for Trip. It looked like the bullet went straight through his side, but there could be some shrapnel still lodged in there. His color didn’t look good.

“I’m fine,” he said. “We need to keep moving.”

“Just hold still a minute,” she said, pushing him back down. She looked over at Libby, who hadn’t stopped crying since Trip was shot in the back. Elle was impressed. He never even missed a step, and kept on running. She thought their plan actually worked, and the soldier goons all followed Effin.

“It’s okay, hon,” she said, patting Libby’s leg. “We’re going to get out of here.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

Elle spun around to see a pair of glowing eyes staring at her from the shadows. She looked down at the meat tenderizer next to Trip.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man said.

Anna coiled on her haunches, growling. She looked ready to spring. Elle held her back.

“Anna,” she whispered. “Easy.”

She saw the red dot move across the floor, stopping at Anna’s chest. Trip stumbled to his knees, but slipped back down. She pulled Libby behind her as the man stepped from the shadows. He was dressed in black fatigues with close cropped spiked hair.

“Why don’t you and I settle this like men, and we let the girls go?” Trip grabbed the edge of a nearby table, and pulled himself up. He held the meat tenderize in his hand, stepping towards the agent.

The red dot moved from Anna to Trip’s chest.

“Don’t get any ideas, law man,” he said. “I have no problem shooting each one of you right here. Let’s go.”

“Where are you taking us?” Elle asked

“Back to the big man,” he said. “He has plans for you bozos.”

Elle picked Libby up and grabbed Anna’s hand. She felt like the mother of the most dysfunctional family on the planet as Trip limped behind them down the hall. His color was fading. She didn’t know if he’d make it all the way back to the lab. It felt like they’d run out of options. Effin was who knows where, facing his own problems. Nobody even knew they were there.

The man followed behind them, speaking into a microphone on his collar.

“Cortez? I’ve got them all except the Jones kid. We’re heading back to the main lab. I need a transport to pick us up on the surface near the old mess hall.”

They walked in silence.

Trip got close enough to whisper in Elle’s ear.

“When I rush him, you take the girls and run. I can buy you a couple minutes.”

“No,” Elle said, looking straight ahead. “Enough with the heroics. We stay together and that’s final.”

“But.”

“No more splitting up. We stay together,” she said. “That’s final.”

Trip half-smiled and followed in behind her.

“Ass hats, I can hear everything you’re saying. Enhanced hearing?” the agent said, pointing at his ears. He barked into the microphone. “Cortez? Come in. Where the hell is he?”

Someone was laying in the hall outside. At first, Elle was afraid it was Effin, but then she saw he was dressed in all black. As they got closer, she saw the needle sticking out of his neck.

“Ummm… I think we just found Cortez,” Elle said, stopping before they reached the body. She stroked the back of Anna’s neck. She could feel her fur standing on end.

“What the hell?” The agent pushed his way up to his companion. He pulled the needle from his neck and smelled the tip, throwing it across the room. Spinning around, he pointed his rifle into the dark, searching for something.

Elle looked around, but she didn’t see anyone else in the hall. Trip came up beside her.

“The whole room is spinning,” Trip said.

He took one step and stumbled, falling directly over the agent on the floor. The other ultra spun around.

“What’s his problem?”

“He’s lost too much blood,” Elle said. “He’s not going to make it.”

“Too bad for him,” the agent snarled. “Jones! You need to come out! I know you’re out there. I can smell you.”

Elle knelt down beside Anna, setting Libby on the ground. She pulled the little girl closer.

“Just stay down. Whatever happens, stay with me on the floor. Got it?” Elle asked.

“Got it,” Libby nodded.

“I can still hear you,” the agent snipped. “The only thing that’s going to happen is your friends are going to get hurt. How badly that is will be up to you.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Trip said.

Both Elle and the agent spun around as Trip fired the black semi-auto pistol. The bullets struck the agent in the chest. He stumbled across the lab, returning fire as he fell. One of the rounds hit Trip in the leg.

Trip didn’t even flinch, instead, he emptied the clip into the beast-man’s chest. The agent fell hard to the ground.

Elle pulled Libby to her chest and held her tight, wondering where Trip found a gun in all of this. She saw the empty holster on the fallen agent’s side next to them. Sneaky. As soon as the gun fire erupted, Anna pulled away from her and scrambled to the corner of the room. Libby cried into her shoulder. Elle’s ears were still ringing by the time Trip’s gun clicked instead of fired.

Trip loaded a fresh magazine and limped over to the agent, keeping his gun trained on his head. The room smelled like gun powder. Elle tried to soothe little Libby.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s over. No more bangs.”

Trip looked back at them. “I got him.”

No sooner had he said it, the fallen agent kicked out Trip’s leg, sweeping his knees. The agent was on top of him in a flash. Trip’s gun flew out of his hand and slid across the floor. The agent wrapped his hands around Trip’s neck, pinning him down.

“Ballistic vest, chief.” The agent grinned, forcing his knee down on Trip’s chest. “I’m done playing around with you.”

Pulling his pistol from the holster, he aimed it at Trip’s head. “Head shot’s always the way to go. You should know that, law man.”

“You’re under arrest,” Trip said, spitting blood from the side of mouth.

Anna bolted out of the corner. She tore into the agent’s face with her claws, looking for any opening in his body armor. Blood shot from the agent’s neck. He sprang to his feet, throwing her away from him. She crashed into table, her head bouncing off a corner. She bounced back up, but her legs were wobbling. The agent drew down on her.

“Die, bitch.”

Elle covered Libby’s face and pulled her tight.

“Anna!”

Someone dove between the agent and Anna just as he fired. The body fell limp to the floor. Elle immediately realized who it was.

“Professor Callus!”

Elle ran for him, cupping her hand under his head. The blood seeped through his shirt. She looked up at Anna, who was perched on the table on all fours. She looked confused, staring down at them.

“Papa?”

Her confusion was quickly replaced with primal rage.

“Stupid old fool,” the agent snarled, taking aim for another shot.

Anna bounded over her and the fallen doctor. She tackled the agent and dragged him to the ground. She howled, shredding through the agent’s armor with her claws, drawing blood with each strike. She bit into his neck and came back with a hunk of flesh. He brought up his pistol, firing a round into Anna’s side. She recoiled just long enough to get her balance before she tore back into the man. The pool of blood surrounding him grew, flowing across the smooth tile floor. Finally, he quit moving.

Elle pressed her hand against the professor’s chest, trying to slow down the bleeding, but he had a pretty big hole in him. He needed advanced medical care.

The professor’s eyes fluttered.

“Did I save her?” he asked.

“You did,” Elle said, tears streaming down her face. “That was very brave.”

“I’ve been trying to find her all night,” he said weakly. “I knew she was in trouble. I was able to surprise the first one, but I guess my luck ran out. Da?”

“Try not to speak,” Elle said, stroking his head.

He smiled, turning his head. “My Anna.”

Elle turned around, coming face to face with the doctor’s daughter. Her face was covered with thick blood, dripping off her fur. She softly growled, and Elle slowly backed away. She saw Libby in the corner, frozen with fear, and went to her.

Anna sniffed the professor’s face before gently licking his cheek. He brought his hand to her cheek.

“My dearest Anna,” he said.

She whimpered and nuzzled her head in his shoulder.

“I never wanted to leave you alone, but there is no choice,” the professor said, touching his forehead to hers. “You be a good girl, now. Papa has always loved you. I’ll be waiting for you with Mama.”

His chest rose one last time. The room was quiet except for Anna’s soft whimpers. She wrapped herself into a ball, lying beside her dead father.

Elle felt someone’s hand gently rest on her shoulder.

“We need to get moving,” Trip said.

The blood was still gushing from his leg. He had tied some loose rags around the wound, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding. Elle tried to tighten the makeshift bandages, but Trip pulled away.

“Later,” he said.

She took Libby by the hand as they walked to the door. They looked back at Anna.

“Anna, we need to go,” Elle said.

She didn’t move.

“Anna. Come on,” Libby said.

Anna slowly raised her head, looking at them, and then laid next to the doctor’s side.

“Leave her,” Trip said. “She’ll come when she’s ready.”

“But she’s hurt,” Elle protested.

“We can’t carry her,” Trip said. “I’m barely walking, and you have Libby. We need to get back to my cruiser and call for help. We’ll come back for her. I promise.”

She knew he was right, but it didn’t mean she had to like it. Giving Anna one last look, they headed back the way they came.

—37—

It was a mash…

“If I wanted to spend this much time in the woods, I’d have moved to someplace like… Maine.”

Wilson stomped down the path. He’d been complaining non-stop since they started walking, pretty much aimlessly, for the last half an hour.

“That makes pretty much no sense,” Effin answered.

Effin’s clothes were still wet from his dip in the pool. His shoulder was sore from the climb up the pool rope. He was worried about Elle and Trip. Apparently, only half of the goon squad followed him, so that meant some of them went after his friends.

He never thought seeing Elle again would stir up all the emotions they had. He always loved her, ever since they were kids. She was his one who got away. Well, in his case it was more the one who got left behind after a grisly murder and near mental breakdown forced him out of town, but pretty much the same thing. She was also his past, the same one he sacrificed for the sake of his family, only to have that torn from him too. He didn’t want to lose her, again.

“I think I got a splinter,” Wilson said, stopping in the middle of the path and checking his shoe.

“Stop it,” Effin said.

“What?” Wilson hopped around on one leg trying to see the bottom of his shoe. “Foot care is one of the most underrated health issues we face as a society, right behind flossing.”

Effin stopped. He waited for his friend to quit dancing around on one foot.

“I’m scared too,” Effin said.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who said anything about being scared?”

“You do this every time things get serious,” Effin said. “When the shit hits the fan, you go into comic relief mode. I appreciate it, but we really need to focus.”

Wilson put his foot down. “I just know you’re worried about her. I am too.”

Not everyone had their own personal poltergeist to help get them through whatever crisis came their way. Usually his friend’s goofiness helped him keep his head straight, kept him thinking. Now, with everything that was happening, it felt like they were just throwing stones at a tornado.

“Are you sure we’re even heading in the right direction,” Effin asked.

“No idea,” Wilson said.

Something whistled through the night air. Effin ducked, but if felt like something just jumped up and bit him on the ass.

“Ow,” he yelled.

“What is it?” Wilson asked.

“Something just bit me on the ass!” Effin shouted.

“Mosquito?”

“No! It wasn’t a damn mosquito.”

“Well, you better hope it wasn’t a rattlesnake, because if you think that I’m sucking out—”

“Would you just look and see what the hell it is?”

Wilson walked around his friend.

“Oh my,” he said.

“Oh my, what?”  Effin asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

“Sir, you have a dart in your buttocks,” Wilson said.

“A dart?”

Effin reached around. He could feel the dart sticking out of his left ass cheek. He tried pulling it out.

“I think it hit bone,” he said.

Wincing, he grabbed hold and yanked as hard as he could, pulling it free. A green ooze dripping from the tip of the syringe. A branch snapped in the distance as a laser targeting pointer zigzagged between the branches around him.

“Move,” Effin yelled.

They both took off running, but there was no path to follow, and the branches kept most of the moonlight above them hidden, so he was literally running blind. Branches smacked into his face. He caught a low hanging limb to the knee and crashed to the ground. The only chance he had was to put some distance between him and whoever was chasing him before the effects of the dart took hold.

Instead of feeling tired, Effin felt a kick of adrenaline pour through his body. He must have pulled out the dart before it had time to get into his system. He looked back for Wilson. His friend, even as a ghost, was having trouble keeping up with him. He didn’t care. What were they going to do to Wilson, even if they were able to sense him? All that mattered was getting away, being free. His heart beat like a rabbit being chased by a hound, thumping inside his chest. Sweat drenched his shirt as he soared over a small creek, the cool breeze felt good his face. There was no way anyone was catching him at that pace. He could find Trip’s car and call for help, save Elle, and burn this damn place to the ground before the night was over. Lights flickered in the distance, maybe passing traffic from the road leading up to the lab. He headed straight for it. Wilson yelled something from behind him.

“What the hell, lord of the apes? Would you wait up!”

Two minutes and they’d be at the road. Two minutes and the nightmare would be all but over. He jumped in the air to clear a pile of brush. The woods came alive around him. A branch swung out, crashing into him in mid-leap. He toppled through the air, slamming into the ground.

He could feel the blood dripping down his forehead, running into his eyes, making it hard to focus. Someone was standing in front of him. Effin saw the club in their hands.

“End of the line,” the guy twirled the club like he was carrying a parade baton. “Your dad’s waiting for you.”

“I’ll take a rain check,” Effin said, jumping back to his feet, the burst of adrenalin still raging through him.

He’d had his fill of running. It felt like that’s all he’d done since he was a boy, running from monsters in these same damn woods. His past always seemed two steps behind him, and it was time to end it, starting with this grinning goon.

He crouched down, ready to pounce. Pain exploded at the base of his skull. His legs went limp as he dropped face first into the leaves.

“Getting tasered in the head is a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Enough!” Effin sprang up, pouncing on the agent.

The ultra-agent fired again, but missed, the prongs hitting a tree limb next to them. Effin’s weight carried them both to the ground, pinning the agent under him. He started swinging. Every shot felt like he was punching a concrete block. He was pretty sure he broke his hand, but he kept pounding any way. The agent reached up, clawing his face, his fingernails digging into Effin’s skin. It only made him want to hit him harder. His vision blurred. His breath came in short bursts until the agent’s arms finally fell limp to his sides.

Effin heard someone yelling his name, but they sounded so far away. He doubted his punches were doing much damage at that point, but his arms kept swinging, almost by instinct.

“Effin!”

His hands were covered in blood. It splashed against his face every time he raised his arms to hit the man again. He didn’t want to stop, not until he buried this creep under the ground.

“Effin!”

He pulled back for one more shot. The guy deserved to die. He was one of the reasons Effin’s whole life had been a wreck since he was a kid. He wanted to be as cold and uncaring as the rest of the world around him.

Wilson jumped between Effin and the bloodied mercenary. He stopped his next punch inches from Wilson’s face.

“Are you crazy?” Wilson yelled.

“Maybe,” he answered between labored breaths.

“He’s out. His face is practically moosh,” Wilson said. “Enough. You’re not a killer.”

“Depends on who you ask,” he said. “This whole town thinks I am.”

“Forget them,” Wilson said. “They weren’t there. I was.”

Effin looked down at the guy’s bloody mess of a face. He felt a tinge of guilt, probably more if he didn’t know the agent would’ve have done even worse to him. Climbing free, he sat on the ground. His hands were still covered in blood. He felt trapped in some kind of twisted cycle revolving around violence and death.

“Asshole, neurotic, completely weird off the charts.” Wilson sat next to him. “Those are all words that I think fit you.”

Effin chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”

“But you’re also honest, brave when you need to be, and my best friend,” Wilson added. “I don’t think all that makes you a killer, just human.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Effin said.

“When am I not?”

“You ready to get out of here?” Effin asked.

“I’m so ready,” Wilson said. “I’m missing all my favorite shows.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He stood up, turning to head even farther into the woods. He froze mid-step. “Aw, c’mon!”

Standing near of the head of his bloodied companion was another agent, pointing a rifle at Effin’s chest. His uniform was soaking wet, blood dripping from his head. It was the guy from the pool. He didn’t look happy.

“We don’t die that easy,” the agent said. He looked down at the bloody pulp of his friend. “You did this? I’m impressed.”

Wilson looked around. “Dive for cover and I’ll try to distract-”

“I don’t care what the old man wants,” the agent snarled. “You don’t get out of here alive.”

Gun fire erupted. Effin twisted to the side, trying to shield himself. He waited for the bullets to tear through his flesh, but there was nothing. No pain. No blood. He pulled his arm away, watching the drenched agent with a fresh hole in the side of his head, fall face first over his partner.

“What just happened?” Wilson asked, standing between Effin and the fallen agent.

“I have no idea.”

Someone came out from behind a tree, a rifle pointed at Effin’s head.

This shit just doesn’t stop. Effin knelt down, grabbing a large branch. He glanced behind him to make sure no one was blocking their path.

“We had a report of two lost campers,” the man said.

Effin dropped the branch.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance,” Effin said, grinning.

Trip walked towards them, letting the rifle dangle from a strap around his shoulder.

“I heard yelling,” he said. “I got here as quick as I could.”

“Five minutes earlier wouldn’t have hurt either,” Wilson added.

As Trip got closer, Effin got a better look at him. It looked like he’d been through his own personal war. He was bloodied and bandaged, and was walking with a noticeable limp.

He shook Trip’s hand, and they exchanged grins.

“You look like hell,” Effin said.

“Look who’s talking.”

“Where’s Elle and Libby?” Effin asked.

“Hold on a minute,” Trip said. He pulled the butt of the rifle back against his shoulder and fired another round into the agent on the ground’s head. Effin jumped back. Looks like he wasn’t the only one making tough choices that night.

“I learn from my mistakes,” Trip said.

“I’m hoping Elle wasn’t one of those?” Effin asked.

“Ask her yourself,” he answered, pointing behind him.

Elle ran for him, wrapping both arms around his neck.

She whispered in his ear, “I thought I lost you… again.”

“Not a chance,” he said.

Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Libby?”

He’d never met Libby before that night, but he felt he needed to protect her, like maybe he could help keep her from having the same tortured life he had.

“She’s here,” Elle said, looking behind them.

Effin saw the little girl, wrapped in a yellow emergency blanket. She was standing with a group of men, some dressed in camouflage, one of them wearing a police uniform the same as Trip’s. Looks like the cavalry finally arrived.

“We wanted her to go back to the search base with the others, but she wouldn’t leave until we found you,” Elle said.

Effin bent down next to her.

“You might be the bravest little girl I’ve ever met,” he said.

She smiled back at him, her dirt-covered face and twigs still sticking in her hair.

“We all leave together,” she said.

Effin looked up at Trip, who was watching the woods.

“What’s the plan?” Effin asked. “Do we have enough guys to put an end to this?”

“I doubt it,” he answered. “We have no idea how many of these mutant soldiers are out here. Even with Deputy Hodgkins and his posse from town, we could be severely outnumbered.”

“So, we just turn tail and run?” Effin asked. He was all about getting everyone somewhere safe, but the thought of letting his father get away didn’t set well with him. He still had a few questions he needed answered.

“Nobody’s running anywhere, Effin. We need a plan, and they have us at a definite disadvantage,” Trip said. “We get back to town, get the wounded help, and come up with a plan of attack.”

Effin stared at the ground and let out a long breath. He felt Trip’s hand on his shoulder.

“Effin, we’ll make sure they pay for everything, for Libby, for Anna’s father, for Mr. Beaumont, Wilson, Floyd, what they did to you, to us. Everything.”

“Wait. What happened to Professor Callus?” Effin asked.

“I’ll fill you in on the way back to town.”

—38—

Bingo!

He never thought he’d say it, but, for once, he was actually glad to be back in Rumors Mill. Effin sat on a folding metal chair at the front of the banquet hall. Elle was beside him, holding his hand under the table. He glanced at her, and she smiled back. He wanted to lay it all out to her, tell her how important she was to him, that he’d thought about her every day he was gone, but they hadn’t had a moment alone since they came back to town. There were things he needed to say, but they would have to wait.

The room was filled with townsfolk, easily over two hundred people, sitting on wooden chairs in quickly organized rows, the bingo tables pushed against the far walls. He recognized some of them, others not so much. Most of the men were carrying guns. Trip put out an emergency call as soon as they got back into radio range, asking for any able-bodied residents to come to the hall, and come armed. Needless to say, there were a lot of questions.

Trip stood at a small podium in front of Effin, probably only used for town meetings, or maybe garbled speeches from drunken best men at weekend wedding receptions. Effin watched his friend shaking hands with everyone that came up to him. He’d smile and pat them on the shoulder before having them find a seat. These people trusted them, even with their lives.

“What do you think?” Elle asked, squeezing Effin’s hand under the table.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Effin said.

He looked for Wilson in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found. He told Effin he wanted to check on his father at the hospital. It was only a few blocks down the street. He should be back any minute.

Trip filled Effin in on his plan before they got to the hall. The last thing they wanted to do was go back up there unprepared. He gathered all his deputies together and called in favors from two of the closest towns to get their police departments to help. Altogether, that gave them over two dozen officers, most of which were placed strategically around the roads leading to the old research lab. He also activated the town’s auxiliary police, bringing in another dozen men. They were going to use the fire department and their trucks to block off access to and from the Farm to keep it isolated. Hell, he even had a call into the Feds and National Guard who promised him more men by morning. All they had to do was keep the perimeter contained for a few hours, and Trip would have his own small army by sun rise.

It sounded solid enough, but Effin couldn’t shake the idea of his father slipping away. Once he was gone, he knew he’d never hear from him again. With all the vehicles they had back in that hanger, for all he knew, he might already be in another country.

The microphone on the podium crackled, and Trip tapped the end of it, making sure it was working.

“Everyone, please find a seat. Grab a chair, folks. We need to get started.”

Some sat, others chose to stand, but they all turned their attention to Trip. He kept his hand raised until the chatter died down to a soft rumble.

“We’ve got a bit of a situation,” he said.

“No shit,” Henry, one of the men who was at the farm with Deputy Hodgkins, blurted out. “We’ve got God Damn monsters running around in the woods!”

“Monsters?” asked Reverend Jacobs.

“What does he mean, monsters?” Nancy, the local hairstylist, asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Chief Daniels, we need some answers.”

Nancy seemed to have a bit of the flair for the dramatic.

Trip raised his hand higher.

“Calm down, everyone,” he said. “The last thing we need is for someone to start a panic. I’m looking right at you, Henry.”

“Sorry, Chief,” Henry said, sitting back down.

“We’ve got everything under control,” Trip said. “We all know the stories about the research lab outside of town, and all of the secret experiments, and the government conspiracies that happened at the Monkey Farm. No one knows them better than me.”

Trip moved away from the podium and walked between the rows of chairs. He met the stares of everyone he passed.

“I’ll be honest. I don’t know what exactly is going on up there,” he said. “I do know that there are people dead like Floyd Merriweather and Dr. Callus. Phil Beaumont’s in the hospital, and we just found the missing little girl we’ve all been searching for up there. Someone’s messing with my town, and I’m not going to stand for it.”

“When are we going up there to kick some ass?” someone in the crowd asked.

“You’re not,” Trip answered. “I’ve got more than enough officers up there as we speak. They’re going to hold the whole place down until more help arrives in the morning, and then we’ll get some answers. I promise you that.”

“So, what are we supposed to do until then?”

“I need a dozen more men to help make sure no one gets in or out of town until then. I’ll deputize you, make sure that you’re armed, and we’ll keep everyone safe. Who’s volunteering?”

Even Effin was impressed with the number of hands that jumped into the air. Half the town, men and women, young and old, were willing to make a stand to keep their town safe. Maybe he’d been wrong about this place all these years.

“Yeah, but you’ve got one of the monsters sitting up front with you,” said one of the older men, his cheeks reddened from probably a few too many beers. “Everybody here knows the Jones boy ain’t no damn good. For all we know, he was the one who took that little girl in the first place. It’s awful strange she disappeared, and then he just showed back up here after all these years. We all heard about them weirdo drawing he makes.”

Then again, maybe he was right with his initial assessment. This place sucks.

Trip spun around and walked back to the front of the hall, stopping directly in front of Effin. He stared at him.

“You’re not going to arrest me again, are you?” Effin asked, looking up at him.

Trip paused and smiled before turning to face the crowd.

“Let me tell you a few things about Oswald Effin Jones,” Trip said. “First and foremost, he’s my friend. What happened to Wilson Beaumont was a tragedy and has been a mystery around here for a long time. In case you forgot, I was out there in those woods that day too, and I couldn’t even tell you what happened. Well, from what I’ve seen tonight, I can tell you without a doubt that Effin had absolutely nothing to do with it. As a matter of fact, if it wasn’t for Effin coming back to town when he did, that little girl would still be missing, or worse.”

Trip put his hand on Effin’s shoulder. “He’s nothing short of a hero, and everyone here should treat him that way. He can stand with me any day.”

Effin felt his face flush. He spent a life avoiding attention, and there he sat with hundreds of people staring at him, wondering what to think of him. He’d left the notion of friendship behind him years ago, something just for kids, like Santa, but maybe the concept needed revisited.

“Thanks, Trip,” he said.

“No problem.”

Things were actually looking up. He had Elle at his side, one of his oldest friends standing up for him, the town actually not looking at him like a side show attraction, and Trip seemed to have a solid grip on the whole situation. Short of having his missing father revealing himself as the town’s resident mad scientist, Effin felt pretty good.

“We’ve got a big problem,” Wilson whispered in his ear.

“You’ve really need to work on your timing,” Effin said, turning to look at his friend. He looked a little frazzled. He hoped it didn’t have anything to do with his dad.

“Yeah, well, shit happens,” Wilson said. “I was coming out of the hospital, after checking on my dad. He’s fine by the way, thanks for asking.”

“Wilson, I was just—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m just busting your stones. Anyway, listen, I was out by the road when I saw this whole caravan of headlights coming into town over the bridge. There must be ten of those black military SUV’s rolling in. As soon as they hit the other side of the bridge, they scattered all through town. I couldn’t keep track of them all. You need to tell Trip.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, definitely shit,” Wilson said, moving to one of the windows and peering out on his tiptoes.

“We have everything absolutely under control,” Trip said, moving away from the table towards the crowd.

“Um… Trip,” Effin said, raising his hand.

“I know, Effin,” he said. “You’re welcome.”

“I need a minute,” Effin said. “Our… mutual friend just told me something that you need to know.”

He waved for Elle to follow and led Trip over to the corner, giving him a quick recap. Trip’s face went from moderate to extreme concern.

“Just now?” Trip asked.

“Yeah, right now.”

“How many?”

“Wilson figures around ten.”

“But I had men posted out there,” Trip argued.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Effin said.

“We’ve got to get these people out of here,” Elle added.

Trip just stood there. Effin could practically see the scenarios crossing through his brain. He didn’t like it any more than Trip did, but they needed to figure something out, and fast. He had a feeling they wouldn’t be waiting for the cavalry any more.

“New plan, people,” Trip shouted to the crowd. “I need men, with guns, at every door to the banquet hall. Now!”

“What’s going on, Chief?” one of the townspeople asked.

“With all the cars parked out front, it won’t take them long to figure out we’re all here,” Trip snapped. “We need to be ready for them. Get the women and kids up front here.”

A couple of the men in the back rows moved toward the main door, chambering a round in their rifles as they went. The women started gathering their children and herding them towards the front of the hall. A sense of immediate panic hovered over the room, but they followed orders and started moving.

One of the men yelled, “Get ready for who, sheriff? What the hell are we fighting here?”

He barely got the last words out as the doors to the banquet hall exploded, sending men flying back across the room. It only took another second for the screaming to start.

“Everyone get down!” Trip screamed, reaching for his pistol.

The lights flickered before the whole room went dark. Effin grabbed Elle’s arm, dragging her with him as he headed for the closest exit.

“Wait,” she said. “We can’t just leave them.”

The skylights above them shattered as agents smashed through them, repelling down from the ceiling on ropes. Even in the dark, Effin recognized the uniforms, especially the green targeting lights on their rifles. They didn’t have time to argue.

“The only way we can help them is to not get trapped in here,” he said, practically dragging Elle behind him as he hit the metal safety bar on the door.

He looked back as the agents hit the floor. He could hear the screams as they tore through the towns people like tissue paper, bodies soaring through the air. They pushed people to the ground, firing warning shots into the ceiling. The men barked orders, pushing down anyone who didn’t listen. Effin held the door open a crack as one of the agents yelled at the crowd.

“Where’s Jones? That’s all we want!”

“I don’t think they’re going to kill anyone,” Effin said, dragging Elle down the hall and out the back door, leading them outside. Another round of gunfire rang out, and Effin shuddered. “It sounds like they’re looking for me.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” Elle said, looking back as they crossed a field behind the building. “Those are my friends back there.”

“I know. I just don’t have a better plan at the moment.” Effin leaped over a small wooden fence, stopping to help Elle over. “I may be the only thing keeping them alive right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” he said. “If they’re here looking for me, then what happens when they find me?”

“I’m not following,” Elle said.

“My father seemed awful weird about finally finding me,” he said. “I don’t know what the deal is, but he seems to want a reunion pretty bad. After they find me, I have a feeling everyone else may be expendable. Know what I mean?”

They crossed the street, cutting between two building to a back alley behind the food mart. He wasn’t sure where they were heading, but they needed some distance between them and the goon squad. He stopped near an old pickup truck parked in the alley. From the looks of it, it hadn’t seen the open road in years. They both sat down on the tailgate to catch their breath.

“They can’t wipe out a whole town,” Elle said. “Can they?”

“Who knows?”

A set of headlights shined between the buildings, and they both instinctively ducked into the truck bed. Effin waited, looking towards the road until he was comfortable it passed.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “They genetically engineered their own monsters. I doubt if ethics plays real high on their list of priorities.”

“We need a plan,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” he said. “Give me a minute.”

Effin stared up at the sky. It looked like there were a million stars up there without a cloud in sight. The moon stared back at him. Sometimes he felt like a man on the moon, outside of the world, looking down at everything going on, but far enough away that he couldn’t make a difference. Ever since he came back to town that changed, the whole world seemed to revolve around him. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, and he didn’t know whether he liked it much.

“You could have just brought some cotton candy or something,” Elle said.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Cotton candy,” Elle repeated. “You didn’t have to bring the whole circus with you when you came back.”

He laughed. Even with everything else going on, he couldn’t help it. Usually, he worried about everything, every single detail of every minute, but with her, it was all just background noise.

“You can kiss me now,” she said.

“Awfully pushy, considering this is still kind of our first date,” he laughed, leaning closer to her.

“If this is the first, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for the second.”

“I’m thinking aliens.”

He felt her breath on his face. She was the one, his soul-mate, his anchor in an ocean of chaos, the most beautiful…

“Get a room!”

Effin jumped up and fell off the truck’s bumper, hitting his head on the tailgate on the way down.

“The whole town is being attacked, and you two are playing smoochy-face behind the Stop and Plop. Classy.”

“Great timing, Wilson,” Effin said, standing up. “How’d you find us?”

“We’re linked. Remember?” he said, sitting on the rear of the truck. “Where you go, I go. Ghost Positioning Sensor.” Wilson pointed to the side of his head.

“Don’t remind me,” Effin said, rubbing his head. He could already feel the bruise throbbing. “Two minutes. You couldn’t have waited like two more minutes?”

“Um, no,” he answered. “I don’t think the wolf pack back there have a soft spot for young love.”

“What’s going on in the hall?” Effin asked.

“It’s not good,” Wilson said. “They’ve got pretty much the whole town locked up in the hall.”

“And Trip?” Elle asked.

“I don’t know,” Wilson said, looking down. “He put up a helluva fight, as usual. It took three of them to take him down, and then a couple of goons dragged him outside.”

“And?” Elle asked.

“And… then there were a couple of gunshots,” he said, avoiding eye contact with her. “I took off after that to find you two.”

“Oh, God,” she said.

“We don’t know what that means,” Effin said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We need to get a handle on this whole thing, fast.”

“They’re looking for Effin in the worst way,” Wilson added. “Give him up, and everyone else lives, or some crap like that.”

Elle jumped down off the truck. She started back towards the hall, then stopped, looking back at them.

“I’m not letting these guys win,” she said.

“I think I have a plan,” Effin said. “But I’ll need both of your help.”

“Where else am I going to go?” Wilson asked, smirking.

“Looks like we’re all stuck here,” Elle added.

“Wait a minute!” Effin said, looking at her and then his friend, and then back again. “Elle? Can you see Wilson?”

Elle just smiled, looking a little surprised herself.

“Huh. I guess I can.”

Wilson turned to Effin. “Holy shit! Do you know how long it’s been since a girl noticed me. I don’t have a booger hanging, do I?”

“You look just like I remember you,” she said, giggling.

“Super hot, then?” He slicked back his hair.

Effin was speechless. If Elle actually could see Wilson, then that meant he wasn’t off his rocker, or at the very least, her crazy matched his. Either way, he was never more sure that he wasn’t letting her go again. He just needed to figure out a way to live through the night. That’s all.

—39—

The best laid plans, n’at

Effin stood across the street, staring at the town meeting hall. The lights were on inside, but it was eerily quiet. Two agents stood guard at the main door armed with rifles. One was smoking a cigarette. No sight of any black vans, no rampaging monsters. If it wasn’t for those goons out front, the place would look like something straight off of a postcard, the street lamps overhead bouncing off a light fog drifting across the street.

The rest of the town was deserted. They hadn’t seen a single person during their trip to the police station and again back. It was a weird feeling, creeping down the sidewalk like you were the only people left in the world. Every sound was magnified. They jumped when something cracked, waiting for an agent to jump out at them. Wilson went into full ninja-mode, hiding behind trees and rolling around the sidewalks like a drunken street performer. Effin was tempted to remind him no one could actually see him, but he knew he was just doing it to lighten their moods.

Thunder cracked overheard. Clouds had been rolling into town ever since they left the police station. Lightning flashed in the distance. Effin’s life was turning into a horror movie. All they needed was one of the agents to wear a hockey mask, and they’d have the complete set of ingredients needed for a slasher flick. Effin hoped more than one of them survived this whole mess.

Elle stood next to him, looking up at the same dark skies.

“We can still make it back to my pickup and get the hell out of Dodge,” Effin suggested.

“I know you hate this place,” she said. “I don’t blame you. Really. But this is my life, and I’m not giving it up without a fight.” She met his eyes. “Besides, wasn’t this your idea?”

“I think I hit my head harder than I thought off that tailgate,” he said, grinning. “Trust me, the old Effin would have been ten miles out of town by now.”

“I doubt that,” she said. “What’s taking Wilson so long?”

Effin watched the windows above the hall, some of the same ones the agents crashed through earlier. They gave Wilson a five-minute head start. That should have been plenty of time for him to get in position. Something flashed in the corner window. Effin saw someone waving their arms behind the broken glass.

“CA-CAW! CA-CAW!”

“Um… what the hell is that?” Elle asked.

“That would be our idiot friend signaling us that he’s ready,” Effin said.

“Why a crow?”

“It was either that or a whipper will,” he said, stepping away from the large shrub they were using for cover. They dropped off the curb and walked into the street. “Don’t ask.”

She yanked the hood of her police issued RMPD sweatshirt tight around her face. .40 cal semi-auto pistol from the center pocket of the sweatshirt, she held it against her side.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Not even remotely.”

Effin jammed his hands into his front pockets as they finished crossing the street. It didn’t take long for the agents at the door to notice them.

One of them circled around to the side as they approached. They both trained their rifles in his direction. They were still a good ten yards away from them, outside of the reach of the closest streetlight. If someone tells you it gets easier the more guns you have shoved in your face, they’re lying.

“Where the hell did you come from?” one of them snarled.

Getting shot in the head outside was definitely not part of the plan. He needed to make it inside if this had any chance of working.

The doorman’s partner sniffed the air.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “It’s him, the one we’re looking for.” He sniffed again. “And there’s two of them.”

Taking her cue, Elle stepped out from behind Effin. She raised the gun in her hand to the side of Effin’s head. He felt the cold metal of the barrel just behind his ear.

“Back off dog breath,” she snapped. “I’m the one who found him. I’m the one who’s turning him in.”

Her voice sounded muffled from the hoodie, but Effin had to admit, she sounded like she meant business. She pushed the back of his head, and he stumbled forward.

One of the agents walked over to them, reaching for Effin’s arm.

“Back off, fur-face,” she snapped. “This piece of shit has been nothing but trouble for this whole town, and I’m putting an end to it tonight. I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.”

The agent paused, grinning.

“And what if we rip that little gun of yours away and take him in ourselves?” he asked.

Elle cocked back the hammer and moved the barrel to Effin’s temple.

“Then I just blow the back of this asshole’s head off, and we call it a night.”

The agent backed up. He whispered something to his partner, and then grabbed his walkie talkie.

“He’s here.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, him,” he replied into the mike. “Somebody brought him here. They’re going to off him right here in the street unless they get to see the boss.”

The other agent pushed open the door and waved them in.

“Looks like you get your wish. He’s waiting for you inside,” he sneered.

Elle shoved Effin in the back again. Geesh. She was really giving this role her all. If they made it out of this alive, he’d probably have to get treated for a slipped disc.

They stopped just inside the door. It was like something out of a movie scene. There had to be two dozen ultra-agents standing around the inside of the hall. The town people were scattered around the room, the men huddled in one corner, the women and children seated in the front rows of the hall. Kids were crying, their mothers doing their best to sooth them, being held at gun point by a small army of heavily armed soldiers. Whatever Effin may have thought of the people around here, they didn’t deserve this.

Effin looked around for Trip, but he couldn’t find him. Elle pushed him forward.

“Keep moving,” she said.

Walking up the center aisle, it kind of felt like a death march, the guillotine waiting for him at the end of the line. Time seemed to freeze. Even the kids stopped crying to turn and watch him pass. These people didn’t just hate him. They loathed the very sight of him. He could feel the disgust, the total revulsion, as he made his way to the front of the room.

He already tore their quiet little town apart once when he was a kid. He was the thing of nightmares, the stories they told their children to make sure they listened. Whatever brief change of mind they may have had since he came back to town had been totally erased.

A man in a business suit was down on one knee, talking to a woman and her child. Even from the back, Effin recognized him. At least Wilson got that part of the plan right, he was supposed to sneak in and make sure he was there. They didn’t have a chance of pulling this off if he wasn’t. He glanced up at the rafters, but there was no sign of his friend.

The man in the suit stood up and turned. His smile broadened. He opened his arms like he was going to actually hug him.

“Son!” His dad stepped over a little boy on the floor as he approached. “It’s been ages.”

Effin stopped in front of him, his hands still deep in his pockets. He thought about punching the old bastard again, but that wasn’t part of the plan. Instead, he just stood there, staring into the eyes of madness.

Dr. Jones peered around Effin’s shoulder at Elle.

“And, look, he’s finally brought a girl home,” he smirked. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Effin stepped towards him, but stopped. He needed to control himself, at least for a couple more minutes.

“Don’t talk about my mother,” he snarled.

The doctor laughed, soft at first, but it grew into an uncomfortably loud cackle. He put his hand over his mouth to control himself. Even some of the agents cast side glances at each other.

“Such conviction,” he finally said. “You and I, we’re not as different as you may think, Oswald.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Effin said. “And for the last time, it’s Effin. No one calls me Oswald. What do you want from me?”

The smile that crept across his father’s face even unsettled Effin as the man inched closer, close enough that he could smell a wild, feral, scent on his breath.

“Maybe I just wanted to pay you back for that cheap shot at the lab,” he quipped, throwing a jab towards Effin’s face but stopping just short.

Effin winced, but kept his eyes focused on him.

His father walked behind him and chuckled when he saw the gun Elle had pushed into the center of Effin’s back.

“Really? Put the gun away girl,” he said. “We all know you’re not about to shoot your boyfriend.”

She pulled the gun away, pointing it at the doctor’s head instead. She pulled her hood down away from her face.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t put a hole in you,” she said.

A dozen laser sights appeared on Elle’s sweatshirt, swarming over her chest and head. The doctor smiled. He stepped back and held his hands up.

“Take your best shot, girl,” he said. “It won’t end well. I promise.”

Effin stepped in front of her, the laser sights crisscrossing over his arms and face.

“Hold on!” he shouted. “Everyone, wait a minute.”

He grabbed Elle’s hand, lowering the gun down to her side. He looked her in the eyes, pleading with her to calm down. She looked wild, like one of the beast-men guarding his father. He knew she wanted this to be over, but a shootout would only lead to more death.

“I got this,” he whispered.

“Young love,” the doctor quipped. “I remember it well.”

“Effin! Look out!”

Wilson yelled from the roof, but it was too late. Something pricked the back of his neck. His legs went numb, and he fell clumsily to the floor. His father was holding a needle in his hand, blue liquid dripping to the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Effin yelled, running his hand over the back of his neck. He could already feel the puncture mark swelling.

“That was the final step in a life time of work,” his father said, placing the needle back into a case in his pocket. “Let me just say that I was every bit as surprised as you to finally figure that out.”

“What did you do to me?”

Effin could feel the serum in his veins, like streams of ice traveling down his arms and legs. His vision blurred as he tried to get up, instead falling back down to the floor.

“You’re the key, son,” his father said, smiling. “Don’t you get it? You’ve always been. I was just too blind to see it.”

The whole room started spinning. He looked at Elle, who stood there dumbfounded. He could see the tears in her eyes. The whole room was watching him, like they just witnessed a car accident, or some personal tragedy that wasn’t meant for public consumption. His muscles spasmed. His arms couldn’t support his body, and he laid there with his face pressed against the cold tile. The room grew dark around him as he struggled to stay in control. Somehow, he knew if he didn’t, the whole town was dead.

He reached for Elle, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. It was like watching everything in slow motion. She raised the gun up, pointing it towards his dad. One of the agents jumped her from behind, twisting her arm behind her. A shot rang out, but it sounded like they were under water, the noise was muffled.

Wilson was there all of a sudden, beside him on the ground, yelling at him. He could barely hear him.

“Get up, Effin!  You need to get up!”

Effin closed his eyes.

A body dropped next to him. Wilson shouted her name, over and over again. The room erupted in gunfire, shots echoing everywhere. People started screaming. His father laughed. Effin was afraid, more afraid than he’d felt since he was ten years old and all alone in a fort in the middle of the woods, staring into the face of true terror.

Maybe he could shut it all out. He’d done it before, suppress the darkness, forget the past. He could lay there and pretend it was all just a dream. He’d wake up back in his apartment, far away in the city, return to his mundane life, only to be remembered in blood-filled sketches that came somewhere from his scarred subconscious. It wasn’t the worst plan, but there was only one problem–Wilson. He could hear his friend screaming his name, inches from his faces, anchoring him to a reality he was trying his best to forget. Again, and again, he repeated Effin’s name, saying they needed him, Elle needed him.

Effin’s eyes opened. He was still on the floor, Wilson shouting in his face. He had control of his limbs again. Instead of dizzy, he felt super-charged, keenly aware of every detail around him. He could hear the heartbeat of every agent scattered throughout the hall. He could smell the fear of the towns people held by gun point, feel the heat radiating off their bodies. One of the agents was straddled over Elle, his hands wrapped around her neck. He could hear her lungs fighting for each gasp, weaker each time she drew a breath.

He was back on his feet and didn’t even realize it. He flipped over the agent strangling Elle, coming up behind him. He tore the agent’s arms away from her, twisting the one wrist until he felt bones crack. The agent tore his other hand free and punched Effin in the jaw. He barely felt it. Grabbing a handful of the agent’s uniform, he threw the man across the hall. He hit the metal exterior wall, tearing through it to the parking lot outside.

For the second time in as many minutes, the whole room came to a stop, everyone staring at Effin.

His father broke the silence by clapping in wide exaggerated strokes.

“Bravo, son,” he raved. “That was amazing. I knew you had it in you.”

Effin stood in the middle of the hall, his chest heaving. He had one arm wrapped around Elle’s waist, who was still unconscious. Wilson was beside him, with his hands up to his head.

“Holy shit, Effin,” he stammered. “I mean… holy, shit.”

“What did you do to me?” Effin roared.

His father smiled.

“Magic.”

Effin never felt so much hate for one person, intense soul burning putrid hate. That smug look on his father’s face burned into his skin. All the damage, the hurt, the blood that he caused, and he could stand there making fun of them. Elle’s hand touched his face.

“Effin?” she asked, her voice quivering. “I’m ok. It’s ok.”

“This has to end,” he said.

He dropped her to the floor and bolted across the room, closing the gap between him and his father in three strides. He wrapped his arm around his father’s neck before any of the agents could react. Standing behind his father, Effin cinched his forearm tight, pulling him off his feet.

“How’s it feel, Dad?”

A dozen laser sights swarmed over Effin’s face.

One of the agents moved closer.

“Just give us a signal, sir,” the agent said. “We’ll put him down.”

“No, no,” he coughed. “Stand down. We’re fine.”

He could end it all right then, squeeze the old man’s neck, let these furry goons shoot him in the head, but at least the town would be safe, Elle would be okay. Maybe that’s how it should end after all.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wilson asked, standing beside him. “Stick to the plan, Effin. Just stick to the plan.”

“Wilson?” Effin could hear his friend, but he was having trouble seeing him. He was fading in and out, like a bad tv reception. It must be some kind of side effect of whatever poison his father injected him with. All he wanted to do was hurt someone, be the monster they all wanted him to be. He could crush his father’s throat, and bury what’s left of his past right there in the middle of the town, the same town where the monster was created. Mary Shelly couldn’t have written it any better.

He looked over at Elle, who was still on the floor, rubbing her throat. Her eyes pleaded with him.

He loosened the grip around his father’s neck and reached into his pocket.

“That a boy,” the doctor said. “Time to go home.”

Effin dangled the grenade in his hand, his finger looped in the pin.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said. “Let’s negotiate.”

Effin could feel the agents closing in tighter around him.

“Back off, furballs,” he snapped. “Or we all go down together.”

“Do as he says,” the doctor repeated. “We can work this out.”

Effin dragged his father by the back of his heels across the room. They stopped next to Elle.

“Nice grenade,” she said.

“Thanks. Are you okay?”

“I won’t be singing at church this Sunday, but I’m ok. How about you?”

He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but looking at Elle seemed to keep him focused. They were all walking out of there together. Maybe him and Elle would just keep going, straight out of town and into a new life. He could leave all the bad at the county line. It was working. They were going to make it.

“It’s a fake.”

Effin spun around. An agent was sniffing the air near his shoulder.

“What’s a fake?” Effin asked.

“Your grenade, chump,” the agent sneered. “I can smell the plastic from here.”

“Maybe it’s one of those new… plastic grenades,” Effin said. Hell, it was worth a try.

The agent grabbed Effin’s wrist, squeezing hard enough to force the grenade out of his hand. Another agent grabbed Effin by his shoulders, putting him in a full-nelson. His father’s smile returned.

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Wilson chimed.

“You’re not helping,” Effin murmured under his breath.

“Any other tricks?” his father asked.

“I’m working on it,” Effin snapped, still struggling under the agent’s hold.

“I think it’s time for a life lesson, my boy,” his father said, walking over to a nearby agent and taking his handgun from him. He casually walked back over to Effin, motioning another agent to bring Elle over to them, forcing her to her knees. “Hold her.”

“What are you doing?” Effin growled.

“Isn’t is obvious, Oswald?” His father smiled at him. “I’m going to shot your girlfriend.”

“No!” Effin fought against the agent holding him. A second agent came up from behind him and helped pin his arms behind him.

“I’m going to kill you!” Effin seethed.

“What can I do?” Wilson was swinging both fists at Effin’s dad, having no effect. “Effin! Tell me what to do!”

“Effin?” Elle looked up at him. “I love you. Just so you know.”

His father pulled back the slide of the gun, chambering a round. “I’m sorry, Effin. Truly, I am. But this is what happens when you disobey me. Say goodbye to your girlfriend.”

The front doors to the hall exploded. The impact sent agents flying back across the giant room. Effin took the opportunity to break free from the agents’ hold and sprang for Elle. Wrapping her in his arms, they dropped to the floor as a stream of gunfire erupted into the hall.

“You didn’t fill me in on this part of the plan,” Wilson yelled, covering his head on the floor next to Effin.

“That makes two of us,” Effin said.

—40—

Custer on a pale horse

All he could do was hold Elle as tight as he could as the bullets soared over their heads. Right after the hall doors blasted open, the firefight started. A group of men poured into the room, spreading out and laying down a thick spread of gunfire. Wilson bobbed his head up to get a better look. Effin reached for him out of reflex. One of the rounds passed through Wilson’s head.

“I can’t see anything,” he said.

Effin’s father and the other ultra-agents jumped for whatever cover they could find. A couple agents took direct hits and dropped where they stood. Whoever these guys were, they were serious.

The ultra-agents finally returned fire. Effin pulled Elle behind the podium. He chanced a look around the edge.

“Flank off to either side,” someone ordered, walking in from the newly renovated front doors. “Give us some cover fire!”

Trip burst through the doors, two guys to each side of him. He was firing an automatic rifle pulled tight against his shoulder, strategically striding deeper into the room. A few feet in and the men broke off to either side. Trip took cover behind a heavy wooden bench.

“Keep pushing them back. Remember. Shoot for the head,” Trip yelled. He fired into a pack of agents who were still scrambling for cover.

Man, he definitely wasn’t messing around. He looked battered and bloody, but he still had plenty of fight in him.

More men filtered into the hall, falling in behind Trip and firing at the agents. Effin didn’t know how Trip did it, but he was sure glad to see his friend.

One of the town locals picked up a rifle near one of the dead agents. He fired into a group of them.

“You want our town,” he yelled. “Over our dead bodies.”

A couple more men grabbed one of the agents, pulling him to the ground in a flurry of punches and kicks. The mercenary screamed, firing his rifle randomly in the air. It didn’t stop them, they kept pounding away until the agent stopped moving.

A different agent came up behind them. He snapped one of the men’s necks before he even realized what was happening.

“You can’t beat us,” he howled.

Another local jumped on the agent’s back, punching and biting at him. The agent grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt, flinging him across the room. More people rushed over, tackling the agent and taking him to the floor.

“Keep pushing,” Trip yelled, firing his rifle in controlled spurts.

They were winning. Effin couldn’t believe his eyes, but it looked like they were going to get out of this alive. He heard the back door to the hall swing open. His father ran outside.

“Oh, hell, no,” Effin said. “Not after all this.”

Elle grabbed his arm. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Put an end to this,” he said. “Once and for all.”

Effin took off, ducking bullets and chair fragments as the whole town around him fought for their lives. He hit the back door. The smell of gun powder and blood faded into the cool mists of the night air around him. The serum was still raging in his blood. He felt unstoppable. His father didn’t stand a chance.

He saw a leg vanish around the corner of the building, and he took off after it. Turning the corner, his father sprinted towards a van parked in the back alley. He couldn’t let him get away. Bounding across the open field, he dropped to all fours as he raced toward the van, leaping into the air.

He tackled him in mid-air, their bodies tangled into a mess of arms and legs as they slid across the wet grass. He could smell the dirt smeared across his face as his pinned his father by the shoulders, staring into the old man’s icy blue eyes.

“It’s over,” he said.

“My poor pathetic son,” his father replied. “You still have no idea.”

The van door slid open behind them. A monstrous foot stomped into the wet grass. Covered in long, coarse hair, Effin looked up into the pain-raked eyes of the creature growling at him. Small bony horns jutted along the outline of its face. A pig-like snout pushed out over its fang-filled jaw.

Rolling on his back, Effin pushed his father away from him.

“Another one of your monster men?” Effin asked.

His father stood up, brushing the grass from his suit.

“Not quite,” he said. “This one is special, fresh off the assembly line. Isn’t that right, Denton?”

“Denton?” Effin asked, searching the monstrosity’s face for any trace of the boy he met back in the van. “What have you done to him?”

“I made him into something… more useful,” the doctor replied. “You could say, I gave him a purpose.”

Effin backed away. His adrenaline rush was fading. Whatever his father had done to him, it wasn’t a match for that thing.

“You don’t have to do this, Denton,” Effin said, his hands held out in front of him. “Whatever he’s done to you, you don’t have to become his monster.”

“I was a monster way before this,” Denton snarled.

“And if you ever want to be normal again, you’ll do what I say,” his father snapped.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Denton cried. “I don’t have a choice. I never really did.”

He was on Effin in a flash. For something that big, he moved like he was on ice. Effin’s head bounced off the ground. He grabbed for anything, his fingers locking around Franken-Denton’s hair-covered wrists. He was double Effin’s weight, but he managed to keep the man-monster at bay long enough to pull his feet up to his chest. Pushing with all he had, he kicked Denton away from him, sending him sprawling across the road. Effin crawled through the wet grass, trying to put some distance between them. He needed time to come up with some kind of plan.

Denton wasn’t about to give him that chance. His claws tore into Effin’s ankle, hitting bone. Effin screamed, but his voice was muffled by the face full of dirt as Denton dragged him back across the grass.

“Hold still,” Denton growled. “I’m trying to make this quick.”

Effin could smell his own blood, gushing from his ankle. He watched the last traces of humanity disappear from Denton’s eyes as the animal over took him. Denton’s claws wrapped around Effin’s throat, piercing his neck.

Effin heard a rifle fire a split second before the side of Denton’s head exploded, showering a massive amount of blood and gore over Effin’s face. Blinded, he felt Denton collapse on him,  the sheer weight of his body knocking the breath from him. Denton’s final words whispered in his ear.

“Don’t tell my father.”

At least his nightmare was finally over. Effin had a feeling his wasn’t. Freeing one hand, he wiped his eyes, spitting blood from his mouth. Denton felt every bit the nine-hundred-pound gorilla resting on his chest. He struggled to squirm free.

“Need some help down there?” Trip asked.

“If you’re not too busy.”

Trip grabbed Effin by the hand. Together, they worked him free from Denton’s smoldering corpse.

“You’ve looked better,” Trip said, pulling him to his feet.

“It’s been a long day. Thanks for saving my ass. How many is that again?”

“I stopped counting.”

They both looked at the twisted remains of Denton at their feet.

“Another one of your dad’s goons?” Trip asked.

“Kind of,” Effin answered. “Wait. Where is my father?”

The van was still there, but his dad was nowhere in sight. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of him getting away, then he saw him sneaking across a small playground across the street.

More gunfire erupted, coming from inside the hall.

“Where’s Elle?” Effin asked.

“I left her inside,” Trip said. “We pretty much have things wrapped up.”

Effin pointed towards the front of the building.

“Go make sure she’s okay,” he said. “I can’t let him get away. It needs to end tonight if I want any chance at a normal life.”

“Here. Take this,” Trip said, handing him the rifle. “I’ve got Elle. You take care of what you need to.”

“Thanks, Trip. You’re a good friend.”

“Best friends. Remember.” Trip took off back towards the meeting hall.

Effin ran across the lot, jumping a small stone wall, heading for the entrance to the playground.

He crossed under an archway leading into a small grass field spotted with the occasional picnic table. Stopping near an assortment of plastic animals attached by springs to the ground, he yelled for his father.

“I know you’re out here,” he said. “You’ve got too much ego to just walk away.”

His father stepped out from behind a tree.

“We know each other so well,” he said.

Effin pointed the rifle at him.

“It’s over,” he said.

“What are you going to do?” His father asked. “Shoot me?”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

His father moved closer, casually walking passed a set of metal swings, running his hand along the chains. He stopped, the barrel of the gun inches from his forehead.

“I never meant to hurt you…”

“Don’t you even try to pull that shit,” Effin snapped.

His father held his hands up near his face.

“Hear me out, Oswald.”

“Call me Oswald… one more time.”

“Sorry. Effin,” he corrected. “You and I are more alike than you’d care to think. I know—what it’s like to be… different. I’m had my own share of tragedy. I felt pain when I lost you and your mother. I had to make choices. Those choices haunt me every day and night. You’re not the only one with nightmares.”

“What do you know about nightmares?”  Maybe it was his father’s tone, or the stupid look on his face, but Effin felt the anger in his gut boiling up again. Twenty years of being an absentee dad, and he felt the need to spread some fatherly advice. No way.

“I saw your sketchbook. The pictures. The torture that plagues you every night. You use art as a release. I use science.”

“I don’t create monsters,” Effin said.

“Don’t you?”  His dad reached out to him. “I can help you, son. Just let me in.”

Effin let his hand slip away from the trigger. His arm hesitated at his shoulder as his father came in closer for a hug. Effin stepped forward and planted his fist as deep as he could in the old man’s gut.

“That one was for mom. You never learn, do you?”

His dad reeled away, hunching over by a nearby tree, gasping for air. Every time he wretched, Effin couldn’t help but smile a little wider. That was until he finally stopped and turned back to him.

“Oh, crap.”

His father’s eyes glowed, that same feline green as all of his ultra-agents. His wheezes turned into a low guttural growl that sent chills down Effin’s spine.

“I could ask you the same thing,” his father hissed. “I just needed to stall until I could bring on the change.”

He was on Effin in a flash. It felt like he had a sledgehammer tucked in his sleeve as his fist smashed into Effin’s chest. He was off his feet and tumbling through the air like an umbrella in a windstorm. It was the second time in almost as many minutes he’d ended up with a mouth full of dirt.

His father bounded across the playground, pinning Effin’s shoulder to the ground with his hands.

“No more games,” he snarled. “If you won’t accept your destiny, you have no place in my world.”

His father’s body convulsed, pulsing and morphing above Effin. His suit ripped at the seams, shoulders first, and then along the arms and chest. The skin on his hands bubbled and turned green, the soft flesh replaced with reptilian scales. Effin was helpless, trapped under his father’s weight, watching the gruesome transformation unfold.

The bones of his spine erupted from the back of his shirt, each vertebra forming a new spike bulging under the scales. Finger stretched twice their length, claws sprouting from their tips. His jaw cracked and popped as it grew passed his snout under a set of angry emerald eyes.

The beast that was formerly his father reared back on its haunches and roared, howling wild into the night.

Effin took the opportunity and broke free, jumping to his feet. He found a broken bar on the ground next to the jungle gym. Gripping the rusted rod, he turned back towards his father.

His father, or whatever was left of the man, was running wildly towards him.

“Come on!” Effin screamed.

The creature leapt, covering the distance between them in one bound. Effin swung the metal rod, bringing it down hard across his father’s head. He could feel the recoil of the strike in his arms.

His father just smiled at him, shaking a clawed finger.

“My turn.”

His claws dug into Effin’s shoulder. He lifted him off the ground and threw him through the air, away from the rundown playground. Effin bounced twice along the road, skidding to a stop behind the town hall. It felt like his shoulder popped out of place.

“It’s over,” his father snarled. “You lost. Say goodbye to your pathetic little life.”

Effin pulled himself up from the road. It wasn’t the thought of dying that bothered him as much as the last sight he would see was the twisted visage of his father looming over him, beating him like some stray dog that wandered into the wrong yard.

“Come on!” his father shouted, landing another shot into Effin’s side. “Let me see some fire, boy. You’ve got more of me in you than you know.”

That shot definitely felt like it cracked a couple ribs. Effin curled into a ball, trying to shield himself from some of the damage he was taking.

Grabbing Effin by the wrist, his father dragged him prone onto the ground, stretching him out for even more punishment. His claws raked down Effin’s leg, drawing blood.

Effin forced himself back up to one knee. He’d never felt this much pain in his life.

“That’s the spirit,” his father chided. “You pathetic excuse for an offspring. If you hate me so bad, then do something about it. Here’s your chance.”

Effin pounced, swinging for his father’s face with the last bit of his strength. All he felt was air as he hit the ground, his face bouncing off the dirt.

“Pathetic.”

A foot crushed down on the back of his skull, pushing his face farther into the dirt. The bones in his nose felt like they were about to shatter, and every time he sucked in a breath, he swallowed a mouthful of blood. Shadows crept into the corners of his eyes, slowly expanding as his world went dark.

“I suppose I was wrong about you, Oswald,” his father sneered. “I thought the frightened little boy I left behind all those years ago was gone, but here he is, groveling at my feet all over again. Perhaps it’s for the best.”

Something snapped inside Effin. It wasn’t a muscle or bone, but he felt it break free all the same. Digging his fingers into the ground, he pushed himself up, even as his father tried his best to keep him down. Effin slammed his elbow into the side of his father’s leg, forcing it off his neck.

“It won’t be that easy,” his father smirked, punching him square in the jaw.

Effin shook it off and countered with an uppercut that took his dad off his feet.

He looked down at his fist, the muscles and tendons bulged as the skin around his fingers stretched. Hair sprouted from his knuckles and skin. He could feel his arms pressing against the stitching of his shirt.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he shouted. His words sounded muffled, like it wasn’t actually him speaking. The bones in his jaw felt heavy. He could feel the night air on his newly forming teeth.

His father watched the transformation taking place with delight.

“We’re special,” he said. “You and I. You could say it’s in our genes.”

Effin ran at him. His father sprang up, in turn sprinting at him. They clashed in a blur of claws and teeth. His father bit into his shoulder, but Effin barely registered the pain, returning the favor by digging his own claws deep into his father’s side.

The smell of blood spiked Effin like a shot of adrenalin. He tore into any opening his father gave him, slashing and driving his claws deeper and deeper. His teeth found their mark in the old man’s neck. The crimson explosion filled Effin with power, power like he never thought imaginable.

“You’re too weak to finish it,” his father said. “You always were.”

Picking his father up over his head, Effin flung him across the road, clumsily bouncing across the ground. He pulled himself up, limping away across the grass behind the town hall.

“We’re not done yet,” Effin said, running after him.

He felt the road under his paws as he dropped to all fours and tackled his father in an open sprint. They crashed into the side of the black van near the road.

“I waited my whole life to find you,” Effin said, “and now I can’t wait to get away from you.”

He grabbed his father and twisted with him, throwing the elder Jones through the back wall of the building next to them. Effin wasn’t letting up. He bounded through the hole, landing on top of his father. They both tumbled along the floor in a mangle of limbs. Effin pounded his fists into his dad’s chest, each blow stronger than the last.

His father looked up at him, his eyes almost swollen shut.

“Well, I’ll be. Like father, like son,” he gasped.

Someone was calling his name. It sounded distance at first, drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears. Effin leaned back, trying to catch his breath, realizing he was growling between breaths. There was a crowd of people around them. He could feel their hearts beating, smell the fear on their skin, hear their shared whispers. He looked up and realized where he was.

They were back in the meeting hall. The whole town was there, watching Effin tear his father apart. He looked at his hands, blood matting the thick fur, dripping from his claws. He was finally the monster they all suspected him to be, in full grisly display. Trip stood with them, his rifle trained on Effin’s head.

“Effin?” he asked.

Elle was kneeling behind a small girl, holding her close. Effin reached for her.

“Elle,” he whispered.

His voice sounded strange, garbled, only a hint of the real him hidden somewhere inside. Maybe that was the illusion all along, and this was who he was meant to become. He wrapped his hands around his father’s throat and squeezed. Both of their stories would end that night.

“Effin? Is that really you?” Elle asked, moving closer to him. “Effin, stop. You don’t have to do this. He’s done.”

Her hand touched his shoulder. He reeled away.

“I’m finally what everyone wants me to be,” he said. “This is my where I belong.”

“But, I thought you belonged… with me,” she said.

Effin met her eyes. He let out a long breath. The anger inside him ebbed. His father was nothing but a bloody mess under him. He watched the man’s chest weakly rise as he climbed off of him.

Effin’s shoulders slumped. He was drained, in every sense of the word. The room swirled around him, a mix of faces, both strange and friends. He stared at his father, his clothes in tatters, jaw broken, barely breathing. The carotid artery in his neck pumped weakly. It would be easy to finish him off, rip out his lying throat.

But that wasn’t who Effin was.

He was a lot of things, a loner, a little crazy, hardly a hero, but one thing he was sure of, he wasn’t a murderer. His father definitely deserved it, but his punishment would have to come from a power higher than his.

Slumping back on his legs, Effin let his rage fade. He looked at his hands. No fur. No claws. He’d changed back to normal and wasn’t even aware of it. He felt calm, calmer than he’d felt in years. That was, of course, until Wilson started screaming in his ears.

“Effin! Hey, Effin! Come on! Effin!”

“What?” Effin screamed back, much louder than he intended. A couple of the families standing closest to him pulled their kids in a little closer.

Wilson was kneeling next to him, still screaming in his face.

“Effin!”

“I’m right here, Wilson,” he said. “Take it down a notch, huh?”

“Oh,” his friend replied. “I’ve been screaming at you ever since you went all Werewolf from London behind the building. It was like you didn’t even know I was here.”

“That’s because I didn’t.”

That didn’t make any sense. It seemed like Anna and the ultra-agents could sense Wilson. Why couldn’t he?

“I’m guessing that’s Wilson you’re talking to?” Elle asked.

He looked up at her and chuckled. “Who else? Wait. I thought you could see him before?”

“I did, or at least I thought so,” she said. “I can’t now. Sorry.”

“Great,” Wilson said. “I finally get a girl to notice me, and then she drops me like a bad call.”

“Those are the breaks, bud,” Effin said.

“Are you done playing around?” Trip asked, hoisting Effin to his feet.

“Ow,” Effin winced. “Easy, pal. It’s been a long day.”

Elle’s arms wrapped around his neck. She kissed him softly on the cheek. He could definitely get used to that.

“Oswald… Effin.”

He looked down at his father. Blood had pooled all around him. He bent down next to the man. Whatever hatred he had for him, he at least owed him his last few words.

His father grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him close.

“Prison isn’t really an option for me,” he said. “I failed you… and your mother. I know that, but I need you to do something for me.”

What has the man not already taken from him? Effin held fast, though his instincts told him not to. After the last few days, he figured he was up for just about anything. He met his father’s eyes even as the life dimmed from them.

“You’re strong, stronger than I thought. You need to find her,” he said. “Help her.”

“Find who?” Effin asked.

“Your sister.”

“What?”

—41—

Auntie Em

The sunlight sliced through the opening in the curtains of the small apartment above Alice’s Diner. It hit Effin square in the face, like nature’s own alarm clock. He sat up in bed, and immediately regretted it. Muscles he didn’t even know he had felt like they’d been run through a meat grinder.

He pulled back the curtain, shielding his eyes. Someone screamed on the sidewalk below him. They were loud, and angry. Trip stood with a group of men dressed in army fatigues. He pointed at one of the black SUV’s the ultra-agents brought into town last night. It sounded like a pretty one-sided argument. Trip seemed to have things pretty well in hand, not that Effin had any doubt that he would. After last night’s performance, his friend ranked up there with every book, TV, and movie hero he ever saw.

Moving away from the window, he accidentally cracked his foot into the leg of the bed.

“Ow. You dirty, sonuva, motherless, piece of…”

He stopped in mid-pain-fueled rant and stared at the floor. His travel bag was leaning against the dresser. The last time he saw it was when Trip took it from him back at the farm. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself. Effin glanced at the bed. His sketchpad stuck out from under the blankets.

Slowly, he reached for the tablet. It looked like Lefty had been busy again. The drawing was raw, the lines sloppy, made by emotion, not memory. There were several places the pencil had ripped right through the paper. What bothered him the most was the actual image on the page. It was Effin, but it wasn’t. He was covered in fur, his arms extending below his hips. One of his claws slashed violently across the page. Blood dripped from everywhere, his hands, his face, drenching down over his chest. If it wasn’t for his eyes, he may not have realized it was even him, but deep inside those crimson tinted orbs, he recognized the pain, the confusion, and the fury. Everything that crept somewhere deep down inside him.

“Effin?”

He spun around, dropping his sketchpad down on the bed. Elle was standing in the doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand.

“I was just trying to figure out if this was all a dream,” he said.

She smiled and handed him a cup.

“And, what did you decide?”

“There are definitely some parts I want to be real,” he said, reaching for her hand. He looked down at the tablet on the bed. “Others, I’d rather forget.”

She stared at the page, not saying a word. He felt nervous, the same uneasiness that he felt when he first crossed the bridge back into town a couple days ago. She’d already seen the worst of him. He only hoped she’d be around long enough to see the best.

“The chin,” she finally said.

“The what?”

“You got it all wrong,” she pointed at the drawing. “You had much more of a German Shepherd thing going last night. That looks more like a Beagle.”

Thank God, he crossed that bridge. Maybe some changes were finally coming his way, the good ones.

“So, you’re saying I’m a pure-bred?”

“Hardly,” she laughed. “Besides, I’m much more of a pound mutt kind of gal.”

“Then I’m definitely you’re guy.”

She walked over to the window and looked outside.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Trip more excited,” she said. “The State Police showed up a couple hours after it all went down. The army showed up a couple hours after that. Trip hasn’t stopped since.”

“My father?” he asked.

“The military loaded his body into a truck and left with him while you were still sleeping. I’m sorry, Effin.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t come for me yet,” he said. “I’m guessing they have some questions.”

“Well, maybe not,” she said, looking back at him. “Trip kind of convinced everyone that it would be best to keep your name out of the whole thing, being that you saved the town and all.”

“What about the farm?”

“Trip said they have it locked down tight. There’s more guys in bio-suits running around up there than a zombie apocalypse. I think the Monkey Farm’s days are done.”

“Thank God.”

“So, how’s Wilson doing with all this,” she asked.

Wilson? That was a good question. He looked around the room. His friend was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he started a day without Wilson.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t seen him.”

“But I thought he never left your side,” she said, her smile fading. “Maybe he finally found what he needed. I’m sorry, Effin. I know what he meant to you.”

“Yeah, maybe he did.”

Elle paused at the door.

“I told Trip I’d run him out some coffee,” she said. “He’s been running on a pretty much all-caffeine diet since last night. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m ok. I’m just going to hang here and keep my head low,” he said.

“Probably best. I’ll be back up in a couple minutes.”

“Take your time,” he said, taking her place at the window.

He watched Trip bark out a couple more orders as he sipped his cup of coffee. It tasted warm and bitter.

“Goodbye, Wilson,” he said. “You were the best friend I ever had.”

“What? You planning on going somewhere?”

Wilson walked across the room, joining Effin at the window.

Effin casually smiled, taking another sip.

“I thought I lost you, buddy.”

“What? A guy can’t take a little time for himself?” Wilson asked, looking down at the street. “I walked over to the hospital to check on my dad. They said he should be fine.”

“That’s good. You just missed Elle,” Effin said.

“Yeah, I saw her,” he said. “I was kind of hanging out in the hall for a while. I figured you two could use a couple minutes alone.”

“Thanks,” Effin smiled. “I appreciate that.”

Effin stood there, next to Wilson, and stared out at the town he grew up in. A lot of things had changed, but there was still plenty of history. He hadn’t buried it all. The town may have accepted him for now, but how long could that last after seeing what his father had done to him?

Too many questions, and nowhere near enough answers.

“So, what now, bud?” Wilson asked. “Back to the city?”

Effin looked out the window. Elle was handing Trip a cup of coffee. They both paused and looked up at him. Trip tipped his cup, and she waved. Men in suits swarmed the street all around them. Across the street, a regiment of soldiers lined up, waiting for orders from a man in camos.

Beyond them, Effin watched the roofs of the homes across the road. Something was hunched on one of the roofs, hiding next to a chimney, staring at him. It was small, almost feline, and covered in hair. He watched as Anna scrambled across the roof, pausing long enough to look back over her shoulder before she vanished.

“So, are we heading back home or not?” Wilson asked.

Effin stepped away from the window and looked at his friend.

“We are home.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S.A. Check is a Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Horror, and Comic Book writer. As a kid, he grew up on comic books, heroes and villains, conflict and cliffhangers. He read which-way books, sci-fi fantasy series, and classic horror fiction. He earned his degree in Writing from Penn State University, where he was exposed to poetry and prose, Shakespeare and Albee, anthologies and world lit.

Today, he lives with his wife and daughter in Southwestern Pennsylvania, enjoying all the small dramas that come his way. He remains active in the writing community and speaks at schools and writer’s groups in and around his area. His work in comics includes classics like The Three Stooges, Pink Panther, Underdog, Laurel & Hardy, Stargate Atlantis, and Oggy & the Cockroaches. His horror works includes Adam Green’s Hatchet, Willy’s Wonderland, Night of the Living Dead, Silent Night, Deadly Night, Scary Christmas, Beware the Witch’s Shadow, Volcanosaurus, The Grunch, AM Monsters, and Two-Gun Terror!

His work in novels include Welcome to GreenGrass, described as “Men in Black meets interplanetary Columbo”, and Maxx Fragg, VPI, a para-cyber thriller. In June of 2019, he released Legend Gary, his first middle grade adventure.

You can visit his website SACheck.com, Facebook at S.A. Check, Goodreads, or shoot him a tweet @S_A_Check.

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