“The man is Paul, but he’s carrying something inside him. The shadow. Look!” Tom pointed to the front yard, where the lifting shadow was moving for the door. It was as if no one else had noticed it, and Tom wondered how powerful this entity was.
“Stevie, get over here!” Not-Paul shouted, and Tom strode closer, his gun lifted.
“Mom, Aunt Terri, he’s not lying! The Schattenmann has killed more people.” Isabelle was standing behind Tom, hiding behind the safety of the detective, and Tom kept his body there as a wall. “Don’t listen to him.”
Tom’s instincts were to shoot. He could feel the dark energy lifting from the ground, but he feared the bullet would be useless. If he killed Paul, the thing would break free, and might enter one of the others. If their stories were true, it could join with any related blood, so the little boy or Paul’s sister would be targets. The young boy pushed free from his mother’s grasp while all of these thoughts ran through Tom’s mind, and he moved the gun’s aim lower and pulled the trigger.
_______________
The storage area was as Detective Bartlett had described earlier. Emma’s unit was at the end, and Taylor could see boxes from floor to ceiling inside through the chain link walls.
“She’s doing a lot to hide what’s inside, don’t you think?” Uncle Darrel asked as he moved toward the unit’s hinged entrance. There was a keyed padlock open, hanging on one of the links; the hasp was unlatched.
“Looks like she forgot to latch it,” Brent said, rubbing a finger on the open lock.
Darrel pulled the chain-link door open and stepped inside the storage compartment. Taylor wished she had a gun too and almost took the one from Brent. He looked so out of place with it in his hand. The storage area was mostly full, boxes and plastic totes stacked high in a circle around the see-through walls.
There was no nest hidden behind them, no monster, no kids’ bones, no living children, just the clean organized area of a woman with too many belongings for a small apartment in Red Creek.
“Wait, what’s that?” Taylor asked, noticing a crack in the far wall behind an empty shelf.
Darrel went first, and found the shelf itself wasn’t on the ground. It was hinged on the wall, and he tugged it open, the drywall coming with it. It was cut perfectly flush with the back, sides, and bottom of the metal ledge, so it was almost impossible to notice the variance in the drywall.
“It’s perfectly cut out in the wall,” Taylor said. “She must have cracked it running out of here, otherwise, no one would have ever seen this.”
“I think you’re right,” Darrel whispered. “Stay behind me. We’re going in hot and heavy.” He passed Taylor a flashlight, one of the heavy black ones full of D batteries. She hefted it in her hand and held it up, turning the beam on.
“Ready,” she whispered.
Brent was behind Darrel, gun at his side. “Ready.” His voice was barely audible.
Darrel held the makeshift door, and they stepped beyond the wall underground in the orchard. Taylor smelled it before she saw anything. It was musky, a sickly sweet scent that reminded her of the smell at the turtle terrarium at the zoo.
The flashlight beam was widespread, and she could see how deep the dirt opening went on for. There were thick wooden support rods pressed from floor to ceiling, as if they kept the entire nest from collapsing. Had Emma built this all herself? It must have taken a long time to be sneaking down here at night, digging under the condo like this.
It went on for as far as Taylor could see, and the walls were only about two yards apart here, opening up beyond. Brent had to duck to walk, but Taylor managed with only occasionally bumping her head on the ceiling.
Darrel stopped and held a hand up, pointing to his ear. He was listening. Taylor tried to hear something, anything, but it was silent. Then she finally did hear it. It was a faint rustling at first, and she eventually thought it was breathing.
“Something’s alive down here,” she said into her uncle’s ear. He nodded and aimed his rifle forward, a stalking hunter.
Taylor considered turning off the flashlight so they could get the edge on it, but couldn’t bring herself to be there in the dark. It was already like a nightmare, and she knew what was at the end of the tunnel as surely as she knew she loved her family. It was waiting for her.
The tunnel took a turn up ahead, but before it softly curved to the left, Taylor twisted to the side to catch movement.
“Help me,” a voice said, so tiny it might have been coming from a mouse.
Taylor didn’t see the girl at first. She was deep in the corner of the dug-out room, her face and clothing covered in black dirt. The whites of her eyes were so bright in the flashlight beam, and Taylor ran over to her. She was trembling hard, but Taylor pulled her close, smelling the mud on her hair.
Taylor had so many questions, but only one mattered at that second. “Are you alone?”
The girl shook her head side to side and was crying fat tears now, forming deep clean lines in the mud.
“Where is it?” Taylor asked, and the girl lifted a hand, pointing around the bend.
Taylor nodded to it, and Darrel went toward it, Taylor running to his side. “Brent, stay with her.”
He didn’t have to be told twice, and the girl hid behind Taylor’s boyfriend as he stood there with his gun up, wide eyes full of fear.
Taylor took the lead, using her light so Darrel could see what they were up against. He was an experienced marksman with that rifle, and if anyone could make a kill shot, it was him.
She’d expected a shadow, a mystical form or misty substance, but what she saw shook her to her core. She screamed and dropped the flashlight as the pale white creature crawled toward her, teeth gnashing fervently.
_______________
Paul snapped into control of his own mind as soon as the bullet entered his thigh. He clutched the wound as Stevie jumped at him.
“Dad! Dad, are you okay?” he was shouting as Paul fell to the ground in front of the house’s steps, his raised hand smothered in blood.
The transition from being an unwilling witness to being back in control was jarring, but it didn’t last long.
“Stevie, you have to go to your mom now. Run from me! Now!” Paul shrieked as the black mist enveloped him again. The gunshot had shocked the Anbieter, but it was quick to recover. Stevie was staring at him, confused at his dad’s words, when Terri appeared moments after Tom had fired, picking her son up. Instead of heading into the house, she was running down the street. Beth stood there with her mouth wide open, looking locked in a silent scream.
“Paul, put your hands up!” Tom yelled, but Paul’s control vanished as the creature took over once again. He stood up, not worrying about the pain in his thigh. A wound like that meant nothing to the entity. That was the vessel’s problem. It would kill everyone around them and get Paul to safety so he could heal.
Not-Paul ignored the detective pointing a gun at him, and he shoved the woman at the stairs, causing her to fly backwards, hitting her head on the house’s stucco siding. She crumpled to the ground, and he staggered forward, chasing after his wife. He heard another gunshot, this one going wide. The creature wondered if the man had missed on purpose. A warning shot, perhaps. It laughed with Paul’s vocal cords, and mist shot out from Paul’s hand toward the gun-wielding threat.
Sharp black claws tore at the man’s face, and his hands came up to protect himself. Paul took the opportunity to run away. He heard the gun clatter to the sidewalk and knew he’d gotten the necessary opening. His wife was ahead with Stevie, and already Paul could feel his dread and terror merging with the monster’s blood lust, forming one mind. He fought it every step of the way, his nose bleeding profusely now. It drenched the front of his shirt as Not-Paul stormed down the sidewalk, black ichor evaporating off his skin as he moved toward Terri.
He watched as she ran, carrying Stevie. The boy was too heavy for her to move fast, and she tripped, tumbling onto a yard three houses over. Paul
tried to regain control of his body, resisting against the ancient entity, but it was no use. He quickly reached his wife and saw the horror in her eyes. The sight broke the part of Paul that was still human. Stevie was screaming, a shrill high-pitched sound that woke the neighborhood.
Porch lights were turning on, but the Anbieter didn’t care. It would be gone with Paul by dawn. Paul grasped his son’s leg with his right hand and tore him from Terri’s weak grip. She kicked at him, but her efforts were fruitless. Finally, the Provider had his bond vessel and sacrifice. He’d be stronger than ever.
_______________
Tom’s hands were a bloody mess, and he couldn’t even grip the gun. Isabelle was at her mother’s side after she’d made sure Tom was alive.
“Get the gun!” Tom shouted to the girl, and her gaze darted up, looking at him from the front door, where her mother lay unconscious.
Tom was proud of Isabelle Watson as she ran for him, grabbed his gun from the sidewalk, and stalked after Paul. In the distance, sirens rang out, and Tom knew he had to hold on long enough to see this through. He’d lost a lot of blood, and his eyesight was wavering. He pressed against the car and pushed his legs forward, trying to get to Paul.
He arrived miraculously, just in time to see Paul holding his son up by one leg, the boy dangling like he weighed nothing. Paul looked right at him; his eyes were black, mist dancing over the whites, and he smiled, blood covering his teeth and lips.
He dashed away, and Isabelle didn’t hesitate. She fired three rounds after him.
_______________
Darrel fired two quick shots, and the creature cried out and scuttled away. The sound was ear-shattering, a terrible mix of fingernails on a chalkboard and a threatened animal. It was humanoid, frail and thin, long fingers and sharp nails digging into the dirt as it moved between Taylor and Brent. It was a thing out of Taylor’s worst nightmares, previously filled by a nefarious shadow.
It was moving on all fours, and it jumped at Brent, swiping a slender hand at his stomach. Brent fired a round toward it, and it shrieked out in agony. Then Brent crumpled over, and the girl behind him screamed. Taylor had the flashlight in her hand, and the monster had already turned, coming at Darrel, who stumbled trying to aim the long gun in the cramped space.
It bit her uncle on the left arm, and Taylor didn’t hesitate. She clubbed at its bald oval-shaped head with the flashlight, striking firmly. The head was damp; sweat or slime, Taylor didn’t know. Its teeth flashed to her, but she’d injured it. She kept hammering the thing’s head, the flashlight flickering off on impact. She was on the ground now, feeling it climbing up her legs toward her stomach. Its sharp yellow teeth gnashed at her as she struck it repeatedly in the forehead, the flashlight slipping off as many times as it connected.
The sound of the rifle firing rang out beside her, and her ear buzzed. Pain erupted in her head, and she was worried her eardrums had popped, it had been so loud. The flashlight flickered on in her hand, and the creature crumpled to its death on top of her legs. She scrambled away from it, crying and cursing at the same time.
“Brent, are you okay?” she asked, moving the flashlight beam to see him on the ground, motionless.
Darrel kicked the pale creature for good measure, getting it away from Taylor, and he helped her to her feet. “How about you?” he asked, and she saw his arm was bleeding where he’d been bitten. She could see the bone through the torn skin and blood.
“I’m fine.” She ran to Brent’s side and rolled him over. He was bleeding from deep gashes in his stomach, but his eyes fluttered open. Taylor saw a decayed stack of white bones in the corner of the room, picked clean by a ravenous animal, and the young girl stood staring at the flashlight beam highlighting the remains of her two schoolmates.
Darrel ripped off his sleeve from his injured arm and got Taylor to help rip his other sleeve. Once they were tied together, he wrapped them around Brent’s midsection, pulling the makeshift tourniquet tight. “We need to get him up and out of here. The ambulance will arrive soon for Tyler. Bring him upstairs.”
Taylor’s ears rang, and her heart pounded quickly as she helped Brent to his feet. He groaned, looking like he might pass out. The girl wrapped an arm around Brent to help, and Taylor wanted to cry at her courage. “What are you going to do?” Taylor asked her uncle, who couldn’t take his eyes off the revolting monster.
“What every bad horror movie has taught me to do. I’m going to burn the body. Get out of here.”
Taylor got a good look at it now and wondered how something so weak-appearing could be so powerful. This was the Schattenmann? A withered, pale, naked hairless person? Was it human? It may have once been, but the sharp teeth in its oval mouth and the small nose suggested it was something else, something terrible and ancient.
“Burn it. Go out the front,” she said, and watched her uncle cover the thing with his vest as he gagged before picking up the five-foot-tall creature with his good arm and lugging it over a shoulder. It didn’t look like it weighed much. She could only hope the shadow form had died with the corporeal body he was carrying.
A few long minutes later, Taylor was upstairs, a trail of blood left from the cavern to the main entrance. Sirens filled the night air, and she spotted the emergency vehicles approaching by the gravel road. The sheriff was still propped up, eyes alert as they neared.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes darting to the girl and then to the injured Brent. “Did you…?”
Taylor nodded, and by the time the ambulance and Gilden police cars were in the parking lot, she could see a plume of smoke rising from the other side of the condo building. Her uncle had done it.
_______________
Paul felt the tug of the creature as it vanished from his mind. It shrieked, and so did he, an unearthly sound emerging from his lips. Another bullet hit him in the shoulder, and he counted his blessings, as he’d counted three gunshots.
He released Stevie’s leg, and his son fell to the ground with a thud. Paul dropped to the grass, his face pressed against the blades, and he closed his eyes. Everything hurt. He felt around inside himself for the presence of the invader, but it was absent. Only his own mind remained.
“Don’t shoot. It’s me. The bastard is gone!” Paul said, though he was sure it came out a muffled bloody mess. He choked on his own blood, and tried to roll over.
Isabelle was above him, pointing a gun at his face. He struggled to lift his hand, but managed to do so in a defensive motion. “It’s me, Izzy. He’s gone. They must have found the nest.” His head fell sideways, and Paul hoped his daughter was okay. Maybe it left him to defend the orchard and attack the intruders. “We have to go to them,” he said, trying to get upright, and the detective was there, standing between a petrified Terri and Stevie. They were both crying, staring at Paul like he was the devil.
“If you’re really my husband, what’s something only you would know?” Terri asked, pushing Stevie behind her.
Paul watched the night sky and saw the cloud cover had finally broken. Stars littered the beyond, more appearing as the clouds dissipated with each passing breath. He spoke the words engrained in his memory for the last twenty years. “I was holding Taylor our first night at home, sitting in the rocking chair your father got us as a gift, and you looked at the two of us, tears in your eyes.” Paul swallowed blood as his gaze shifted to the moon, a glowing half crescent. He could hear Terri crying beside him.
“You told me to be the shining light for our daughter. To never let darkness touch her, and to protect her with every ounce of myself.” He felt his wife’s cool hand meet his forehead, and she leaned over him, kissing his cheek.
“It’s you,” she said, and Stevie was beside him, clutching at his arm, when everything went dark.
Epilogue
Tom sipped his coffee as he drove to the farm north of Gilden. A week had passed since the events that forever changed his life. He laughed bitterly as he thought things over. Had it really changed anything?
They’d found the kids, or what was left of them. There was no sign of the creature Darrel Watson had burned, but Tom hadn’t hesitated to fill out the paperwork, claiming Emma Jeanne, aka Emma Prince by her driver’s license, and formerly Emma Smith, had abducted the children and killed two of them. Tom and the local sheriff’s department had cornered her at her residence on the previous Saturday night, but she’d managed to kill Deputy Rich Stringer before shooting herself in the head, ending her reign of terror.
The residents of Red Creek seemed to understand that more was at play, but even the witnesses who’d seen Paul Alenn raving down his sister’s street hadn’t spoken a word about it. They were satisfied with a resolution, and already Sheriff Tyler was claiming the mood around the town was uplifted.
Everyone had turned out for Rich’s funeral, and Tom had spent some time with the Alenns and Watsons. Beth Watson had suffered only minor injuries from striking her house, a mild concussion, and Paul was going to be just fine. Tom couldn’t help but like the horror author, even after seeing the demon or whatever the hell this “shadow” was that had possessed him.
Tom knew there was far more to the story than he understood, but he was happy to let it stay buried. Red Creek was safe from a long-term threat, and for that Tom Bartlett was grateful.
He pulled off to the side of the road, taking a deep breath of spring country air. He hadn’t smelled anything so fresh in years, long before his time in Chicago, and for the first time since he’d arrived in Gilden, Tom felt good. Not only good, but fantastic.
Maybe he could do this country living thing after all. His phone buzzed, and he took a look. It was Tyler. He seemed to have made it his personal mission to befriend Tom, as if he sensed the detective was in desperate need of company. The text even went as far as suggesting a double date with Tyler’s wife and one of her coworkers. Tom’s finger hovered over his phone’s screen before he sent the reply.
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