SKELLYMAN
Rie Sheridan Rose
Copyright © 2017 Rie Sheridan Rose
Published 2017 Digital Fiction Publishing Corp.
All rights reserved. 1st Edition
ISBN-13 (paperback): 978-1-988863-31-3
ISBN-13 (e-book): 978-1-988863-32-0
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Thank You!
Also from Digital Fiction
About the Author
Copyright
DEDICATION
I would like to dedicate this book to the memory of Susan M. Garrett who got me writing again when I had given up. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for her.
Chapter 1
The streets were dark under a moonless sky. He moved between the shadows, dark in darkness. A perfect night for a murder, he thought to himself, baring his meth-damaged teeth in an uneven grin. I’ve been behaving so well… His hand strayed to the clasp knife in his pocket. Oh, what fun I will have.
As he slid through the streets, his gaze shifted constantly, looking for a victim. Any victim would do—he wasn’t too particular. And when he was done, it would be time for a little treat. He fingered the small, lumpy baggie beside the knife. Oh, yeah. Tonight, I think I’ll splurge a bit. I’ll have to hit up my dealer sooner than later if I do, but it will be so worth it. Takes cash though—why, lookie there—I think I just found the answer to all my problems. His grin broadened.
The girl on the corner was shivering, despite a faux fur jacket; thin as a rail. Obviously, a hooker. He could always tell. From the look of her scrawny ass, we probably have a little something in common…I might not have to see my dealer after all. Won’t that be a nice perk?
He glided up to her, grinning. “How’s it going, beautiful? Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
He chuckled to himself. Of course, I’m lying. Geez, she’s anything but pretty. More like a worn-out paper doll. But that makeup she’s laid on with a trowel makes it a safe bet she’ll be taken in by it.
Sure enough, she smirked at him like an underage schoolgirl.
“I can’t complain,” she tittered. “How about you, handsome?”
He knew from his mirror that her words were just as fake. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”
“Anything you want—but it’ll cost you. A girl’s got to eat, ya know.”
“Sure, sure. I got what you need right here.” He patted his pocket.
“Where do you want to go?”
“How ‘bout back there?” He jerked his head toward the alley behind her. It was pitch black. Perfect for a nice bit of mayhem.
She glanced back into the alley. “It’s awfully dark in there, sugar.”
“I know where all the parts are.” He gave her a broad wink.
Giggling nervously, she shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
“After you, darlin’.” He gestured her before him into the alley. This will be such fun.
Chapter 2
“Mom, can you pick me up? I missed the bus…”
Brenda Barnett jerked the cell phone from her ear and frowned down at it like it was some kind of alien creature. What the hell?
“Mom…are you there? Can you hear me?” Robbie’s voice filtered up from the phone, made tinny by distance.
“Who is this?” She fought to keep her voice neutral as anger tightened her chest and constricted her throat. She wanted to dash the phone against the wall, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything.
“C’mon. I really need a ride.” The voice was definitely Robbie’s…the timbre was his…the tone exact…but it was impossible.
“Is this some kind of joke? I don’t know who you are, but I’m warning you—” She felt the anger pulsing in her temples, and massaged her forehead with her free hand.
“Jeez, Mom. I just need a ride!” It was a simple enough request—one she’d gotten time and again when her twelve-year-old wasn’t paying attention to his watch.
But Robbie had been dead for almost a year.
Brenda thumbed the disconnect button and slammed the phone down on the counter, clutching the edge of the countertop, as she fought to get her anger under control. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Besides, there was something missing in the voice…it was close—but not quite…Robbie. Losing a child was bad enough—having a living part of me destroyed in an instant—without someone slapping me in the face with it just when the hurt starts to dull.
Although she’d lost her husband Ethan the same night—her companion, friend, lover—that ache was different than the great hole left by the death of her eldest child.
“Mama…Mama, what’s wrong?” Daisy wandered into the kitchen and laid a soft, pink hand on Brenda’s shoulder. “Why are you sad?”
Brenda jumped at the touch, and then gathered the bewildered child into her arms, burying her face in Daisy’s silky gold curls. “I’m sorry, baby. Sometimes I just get sad.”
“’Cause you miss Daddy and Robbie, right?” Daisy sighed and laid her head on Brenda’s shoulder. “Me too, Mama. I miss them too.”
The four-year-old was more astute than a little girl her age should have to be…
The phone rang again, and Daisy started up eagerly. “Can I answer it, Mama?”
Brenda bit her lip, and then made up her mind. Money will become an issue soon, but we can still afford a pizza—maybe even a movie. Daisy deserves a treat, and so do I.
“Not this time, sweetie… Let’s just go out for pizza instead.”
“Cool!” squealed the child. “Can Maggie come?”
An image of the ragged stuffed bear flashed through Brenda’s mind. Oh well, there are worse things.
She ruffled Daisy’s curls. “Okay, go and get her. But hurry.”
The answering machine clicked on, and Brenda quickly reached over and turned down the volume. She didn’t want to deal with who—or what—ever was at the other end of the line at the moment.
Daisy bounded back into the kitchen, one arm in the sleeve of her favorite pink jacke
t, the other wrapped firmly around the bedraggled polar bear.
Brenda helped the child into the coat and out the door as quickly as she could, worried that she would scare Daisy with her own unsettled thoughts.
Studiously avoiding a glance at the side of the garage where Ethan’s convertible used to be kept, she buckled Daisy into her car seat and pulled the station wagon into the quiet street.
“It’s getting darker, Mommy.”
“It sure is, baby. We’re having a nighttime adventure, aren’t we?”
Daisy was right—the light was already fading from the October sky.
Her heart clenched. Robbie probably would have missed the bus on a day like today. He would have been goofing off with his friends—probably tossing around a baseball, or talking about girls…which had been a recently budding interest—and suddenly realize the bus was long gone…and—small town or no—it was still a long, chilly walk home. He would have called, but not anymore.
Who could have made that phone call? Her skin crawled just thinking how much like Robbie’s the voice had been.
Halloween is only two weeks away, and…God…the whole dismal holiday season stretching beyond that. I’ll have to start planning for Thanksgiving dinner soon…and then Christmas presents.
Last year, Christmas was a less than merry occasion. The accident had been only days before Christmas, the funeral on Christmas Eve. Poor Daisy didn’t understand why Santa forgot to visit her, but I didn’t even think about the poor baby. At least she got the presents I had already bought and wrapped. This year, I swear I will make it up to her—Santa will bring her everything on her list…unless it is a pony.
“What kind of pizza does Maggie want?” she asked aloud, glancing at Daisy in the rearview mirror and forcing a note of banter into her voice.
Daisy lowered her head to the bear’s battered muzzle, and then looked up at her mother. “She says cheese and pineapple.”
“What a coincidence that she likes the same kind you do!”
Daisy’s brow puckered, and then she nodded her head. “Yes, it is a coinkideal. She used to like peppered roni, but it don’t taste so good no more.”
Brenda sighed. Pepperoni was Robbie’s favorite pizza. How many times did I watch him feed it to Daisy like she was a baby bird? She’d shriek with laughter…she idolized her big brother so.
Now, she wouldn’t touch the stuff.
Robbie…her mind kept cycling back to the thought that the call could not possibly have been real…so who could imitate her son’s voice? And why?
No. She wasn’t going to think about that now. She couldn’t. She had to focus on Daisy. If she dwelt on the phone call, she’d drive herself mad.
Brenda sighed again. It’s so hard doing it all alone. Daisy needs new shoes, and there’s an odd noise in the transmission, and—
“Mama, look!” The strident cry was emphasized by a point out the window, and Brenda almost ran the station wagon into the curb as she jumped.
“What is it, baby?” She fought to keep the panic out of her voice. Damn! I nearly ran off the road.
“Look at that skellyman!”
Brenda spared a look in the rearview mirror as Daisy tried to twist around in her car seat. She couldn’t see the man on the corner too clearly, but he did look extremely gaunt…almost skeletal. What she could see of his face was a sickly pale blur in the glare of the street lamp. He was dressed all in black, watch cap jammed down around his ears, bony wrists sticking out of his sleeves…and he was staring after their car. Oh my God! Why is he…nevermind. I have to keep it together for Daisy. It’s just some homeless guy. No big deal. No big deal.
She took a deep breath and then made herself smile at Daisy in the mirror. “It’s okay, honey. He’s just a man who maybe needs some pizza of his own.”
Her tenderhearted daughter spun around to face front again. “Can I give him some of mine?”
Brenda winced inwardly. I should have known that was the message Daisy would get from that remark. “No, not this time. I’ll bet he has pizza of his own waiting for him at home.”
“With his wife and kids?”
“Sure, baby. With his wife and kids.”
“He looked really lonely.”
“I’ll bet he has a wife and four kids waiting for him.”
“Five kids…no, six!” Daisy screamed with laughter.
Brenda pretended astonishment. “Six kids? Oh, my!”
“Down in the bone-yard,” intoned Daisy in a guttural growl. Then she laughed again.
Brenda shot her daughter a sharp glance. Daisy is way too interested in bones and skeletons these days. She’s getting a little creepy. Better change the subject…
“Would you like to see a movie after we eat our pizza?”
“In the big theater?” Daisy’s eyes grew round as saucers.
“Yes, ma’am. The biggest one.” I bet the movie is playing at the little four-plex, but if we are splurging, we might as well go to the one grand old movie house left in town. I like it better, at any rate.
The little girl clapped her hands, the effect slightly muffled by the fact Maggie’s paw was trapped between them. “The princess movie, the princess movie!” Daisy had been enthralled by the commercials for the newest animated fairy tale for weeks.
“The princess movie it is.”
“I love you, Mama!”
“And I love you, baby.”
Daisy began to burble to Maggie about the princess in the commercial.
Brenda let the child’s prattling wash over her like a soothing wave. However bad things got, she still had Daisy to comfort her.
Suddenly, a phrase in Daisy’s narrative caught her attention. “…they are dead. And their bodies turn into bones in the ground, and the worms eat them all up,” the little girl told her bear calmly.
Brenda’s heart lurched. “Where did you hear that, Daisy?”
Daisy cocked her head and looked at her mother quizzically. “Everybody knows that, Mama. When you die, the worms eat you up.”
“When you die, you go to Heaven to live with God.”
“But God wouldn’t want those smelly old bodies in Heaven. He just takes the souls. The worms eat the rest.” Daisy turned her attention back to Maggie and began to croon a tuneless little song.
Brenda felt cold inside. Daisy is so matter-of-fact about what she’s saying, but the very thought of Ethan and Robbie moldering in the ground is almost more than I can take.
Even though, as an adult, she knew better, she kept trying to pretend they were just sleeping somewhere, or better yet, whole and happy in the green fields of Heaven. Even such an idyllic vision of the afterlife was little more than a placebo to her guilt at having lived when they had died. If only she had been with them that evening…
But she hadn’t been, and now she must make sure Daisy wasn’t permanently scarred by the experience. The first step was to nip all this talk of death and bones in the bud. A child shouldn’t think so much about those matters.
“Daisy, sweetie…you don’t really think Daddy and Robbie are being eaten by the worms.”
“No, ‘course not.”
Brenda breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”
“The worms already finished with them.”
Chapter 3
The skellyman no longer had a name. He called himself Tom Brown, for his own amusement, and so he could take care of day-to-day business, like rent and bills. His real name had been stripped from him. Along with everything else.
He enjoyed being a creature of the night now, haunting the streets and alleys of this piss-ant town by moonlight—or even better—the dark of the moon. He tried not to show his face by daylight any more than he had to. It was far too memorable, and the sun far too unforgiving. It picked out too many details—painting every disfiguring scar in bold relief. Between the scars and the meth, he was very distinctive these days…
At night, he looked almost human—if you didn’t look too close.
Seeing the station wagon drive by had hit him like a physical blow. He’d recognized the woman behind the wheel instantly, of course—her and her perfect little angel. But he hadn’t expected to be so stunned by the mere sight of them.
Wheels within wheels, turning unbidden. Life is like that. You never know what is going to happen next.
He continued on his way after the car was out of sight. The Angel had looked at him. Looked right at him. The Bitch had looked straight through him, of course.
Did she even turn her head? I don’t think so. She just glanced in the mirror in that way she has—that way of giving her complete focus to the task at hand. Whether it’s paying bills, driving a car, or cheering at a baseball game. I’ve watched her do all those things.
He fingered the coins in the bottom of his pocket. The hooker a couple of weeks ago had been carrying three little bags of meth, but not much cash.
She must have scored right before I found her. It took care of one problem but didn’t put too much money in my pockets, and that is almost gone.
Hungry days had taught him to tell by feel alone how much change he was carrying. Enough for a cup of coffee at the nearby convenience store, he decided. He needed it to calm his nerves. Caffeine had never been a stimulant for him, always a relaxant…like something had been wired backward in his brain from the beginning.
Maybe I’ll treat myself to a hot dog with it. I’ve always loved hot dogs. Hot dogs, baseball, apple pie…all the classics.
He remembered the last baseball game he’d attended. When the Bitch’s son had slammed one out of the park. That kid had been a natural born athlete. He might have made a career out of it someday. But that had all gone up in smoke…
The skellyman grinned. What a bright fireball that was! The convertible spinning like a top on the slick asphalt then hitting a guardrail and flying through the air, to crash in a heap of beautiful, blossoming fire. It was glorious. Beautiful and deadly and wonderful.
He felt himself hardening and forced himself to calm down. One can’t walk into a convenience store with a woodie, now can one? What would that teen-age girl behind the counter say? She’ll call me a perv again.
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