We Are Always Watching
Page 30
The house rumbled and West nearly lost his footing. Out of abject fear, he ran up the cellar steps, navigating around the newly fallen detritus in the kitchen and into the safety of the back yard. He fell to his knees, careful to keep Rayna in his arms. Gently laying her down, he started to run back to the house.
He’ll come out any second. He will. He won’t leave me alone.
West was just outside the wide hole the truck had made when the house toppled onto itself. It came down with a great bone quaking rush. The force of it sent him on his back.
“Dad! No!”
In an instant, it was gone. The old farmhouse became a bookend to the disintegrated barn. Except it was also a grave for five bodies.
West watched the remains settle deeper and deeper into the foundation, knowing it was crushing his parents and grandfather more and more. They were probably unrecognizable now.
He couldn’t stop crying, great heaving sobs that made his ribs ache, his heart sore.
A mushroom plume of dust and smoke rose up from the house, catching the first rays of the dawn.
People would see it and they would come.
West didn’t have the strength to do anything more but cry and wait.
He turned back to Rayna.
Sarah Simmons knelt by her unconscious daughter. Her eyes caught West’s as she was scooping Rayna into her arms. Without saying a word, she picked her daughter up and walked into the high reeds and grass. They disappeared, swallowed up by the neglected field.
The police would come, and West would tell them everything. They would believe him. They had to. When they dug through the rubble, they would find the bodies.
He knew no one would ever see Sarah or Rayna Simmons again.
There would be no one left for them to watch, to guard over.
Let it rot, alone and unwanted.
West collapsed onto his back, letting the dust roll over him, the overwhelming heaviness of sorrow feeling as if it could push him down into the center of the earth.
Just let it rot.
Afterword
Writing is a lonely profession. Writers make the Maytag repairman look like the DJ at a rave. However, it takes a village to help the village idiot turn his crazy idea into a real live book. We Are Always Watching is no exception.
My agent and force of nature, Louise Fury, is the one who planted the seed for the story back in the summer of 2015. She shared an article with me about some mysterious lunatic that was harassing a family who had recently moved into their dream home. In her wonderful South African accent, she said, “Ooo, I think this would make a great book. It’s right up your alley!” Now, I get a lot of stories from a lot of people, but this one stuck with me. I talked to my editor at the time at Samhain, Don D’Auria, and he gave me the thumbs up. I was just about finished writing the first act when Don left, Samhain’s horror line soon to follow. I lost momentum and the book was shelved.
Cut to four months later and I get a call from this Matt guy, a publisher at Sinister Grin Press. He wants to know if I have a book we can work on together. I immediately bring up We Are Always Watching. Now he gives it a big old Texas thumbs up and I was off to the races. The rest is history.
There are so many people during this crazy time that helped me in more ways than I can count, both directly and indirectly. Big thanks to my special Hellions – publicist and now editor Erin Al-Mehairi, first reader Tim Slauter (your input was invaluable), Jack Campisi, Jason Brant, Matt at Horror Novel Reviews, Rich at The Horror Bookshelf, David Spell, Zakk at The Eyes of Madness, Shane Keene, The Other James Herbert, Jamie Evans, Frank Errington, Jonathan Janz, Brian Moreland, Keith Rommel, Robert Dunn, Raegan Butcher, Mike Chella, Norm Hendricks (thanks for the house to work on my edits), Catherine Cavendish, Pam Morris, Nina D’Arcangela, my fellow damned at Pen of the Damned, Robert Stava, Mom, Carolyn and Tom, Rob Zombie, Ash Costello, the gang at Bloody Good Horror, Matt, Tristan, Travis, and Zach at Sinister Grin, cranky grandpas everywhere, Jim Harold, Kristopher Rufty, Ron Malfi, Russell James, Glenn Rolfe, Jackie Kingon, Stephen Combs, Tim Feely, Steven Gibson, Chuck Buda, Armand Rosamilia, Tim Meyer, and the guy who invented the My Pillow. Writer’s need a good night’s sleep. I just know I’ve forgotten some peeps. If I have, there’s always the next book!
Most of all, thank you to my beautiful family - Amy, Star and Samantha. You’ve always been there for me, encouraging me, letting me have my alone time and the best of all, loving me.
About the Author
Hunter Shea is the product of a misspent childhood watching scary movies, reading forbidden books and wishing Bigfoot would walk past his house. He doesn’t just write about the paranormal – he actively seeks out the things that scare the hell out of people and experiences them for himself. Hunter’s novels can even be found on display at the International Cryptozoology Museum. His video podcast, Monster Men, is one of the most watched horror podcasts in the world. He’s a bestselling author of frightful tales such as The Montauk Monster, They Rise, Island of the Forbidden, Tortures of the Damned and many more, all of them written with the express desire to quicken heartbeats and make spines tingle. Living with his wonderful family and two cats, he’s happy to be close enough to New York City to gobble down Gray’s Papaya hotdogs when the craving hits. You can follow Hunter and join his action packed Dark Hunter Newsletter at www.huntershea.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Afterword
About the Author