Shadows Rising

by Dean Rasmussen

  17

  Rebecca shrieked after the electricity went out and everyone froze in the flood of silence. His grandfather and Finn jumped up from their chairs, the wood scraping against the floor made a noise like an elephant. The sun had gone down, although the darkness had not yet swallowed all the light.

  “Stay here.” His grandfather held out his arms over the table with his palms down and then hurried across the kitchen to the pantry. He threw open the door and, a moment later, a metal can clanked to the floor. “Dammit!”

  Light burst from the pantry as his grandfather emerged wielding four flashlights, two in each hand. He handed one to Finn and dropped the other two onto the kitchen table.

  Finn and Artie each grabbed one of the assault rifles from the kitchen table. Both had been reassembled after cleaning and then reloaded them from the boxes of rounds on the kitchen counter.

  “Stay away from the windows,” Finn insisted.

  “Oh, God.” Rebecca clutched Michael’s upper arm and pulled herself closer to him. Her fingernails stabbed into his skin. “Not again.”

  Michael laid his hand over hers, more from the pain of her nails than to comfort her.

  “Could be just a blown fuse.” His grandfather hurried over to the basement door and stomped down the stairs.

  Finn hurried through the kitchen and out into the living room toward the front of the house. The deadbolt on the front door locked with a snap. In all the times he’d visited his grandparents, nobody had ever used that door. He’d forgotten it was there.

  Rebecca grabbed a flashlight and a .38 pistol off the table in front of her, the last pistol Finn had trained her to use. She had cleaned it, but hadn’t reloaded it yet. She held it in front of her face, the gun trembling in her hand, and her eyes narrowed. She kicked her chair back, rushed over to the box of rounds on the counter, and loaded the rounds into the gun’s magazine.

  “Michael, we should get ready,” she said, “just in case.”

  Michael grabbed a flashlight and turned it on. The .357 Magnum revolver his grandfather had shown him how to use sat in front of him. He hesitated to take it. They had all broken out in laughter during shooting practice after he recoiled and shuddered from the blast of his first shot. His palms had been damp with sweat, and the gun had almost slipped from his fingers. His was cleaned, but needed rounds too. He gripped the revolver’s handle and carried it to the counter where Rebecca nudged the box of rounds over to him as she finished loading her pistol.

  He loaded three rounds into the chambers before he shuddered from a heavy pounding on the front door. Several rounds slipped from his hand and spilled at his feet. The pounding spread across the front of the house and the walls shook like they were in a small earthquake.

  “Everybody get downstairs.” Finn waved them toward the basement door where his grandfather stood with his rifle close to his chest. They hadn’t taken the first step down before the window in the front door shattered, spewing glass across the floor, and long black tentacles stretched through the air and whipped across Finn’s chest. Rows of teeth laid out along the length of its arms where the suckers on an octopus arm would be tore through Finn’s shirt and snagged him and his rifle for a moment until he slammed his rifle into its flesh and broke free. He fired several rapid shots at the invader until he slipped on the shards of glass from the shattered door. He dropped to his hands and knees, crying out as he scrambled to his feet again. Blood ran from his hands as he pounded the rifle into its flesh.

  A series of blasts exploded from his grandfather’s rifle toward the front door where the creature’s main body hid in the shadows. Rebecca fired her pistol at one arm that snaked along the side of the wall. One shot ripped through its flesh and the limb jolted back as if reacting to a hot plate, but then it continued forward and Rebecca backed away.

  “Grab a knife!” Finn fired his rifle as he stumbled backwards.

  Michael followed his grandfather in firing his revolver at the open door where the appendages converged somewhere beyond the doorstep. The blast was deafening and pain stabbed at his ears. They had used earplugs during target practice. The voices and blasts fell away as everything muted around him. He fired again and again until the revolver clicked empty. More rounds lay on the kitchen floor and in the boxes on the counter. He scoured the boxes for the correct size, found the right box, and reloaded the revolver. His body quivered, and his pulse pounded in his face.

  Rebecca set her pistol on the counter next to him and pulled a large kitchen knife from the holder next to the stove. Michael locked the loaded barrel into position and followed her as she charged at the creature’s arms attacking Finn. The blade slashed across its flesh and it lashed back at her, knocking the knife from her hand. It clanged on the floor and Finn grabbed it as Rebecca backed away behind Michael.

  Finn fired his rifle until the clip was empty, then sliced his knife across an arm as it slithered through the air like a dancing cobra. Black blood sprayed onto the floor. A loud grunt and another swipe through the air sent a chunk of the creature’s arm plummeting to the floor. The severed meat slapped against the floor.

  His grandfather emptied his rifle and hurried back into the kitchen.

  Michael fired at the tentacles pushing through the front door. A burst of shattered wood from the doorframe rained to the floor. Another shot sent a limb flinching back, and the creature stopped its advance. A mangled section of flesh and teeth hung like a half-digested snake as the jelly-sludge pooled below it.

  Rebecca screamed behind him. Michael swung around as a new branch of arms flooded into the kitchen through his grandparents’ bedroom. One wrapped itself around his grandfather’s leg and yanked his feet out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, the rifle cracking against the edge of the kitchen table.

  “Grandpa!” Michael yelled. He fired the remaining rounds in his revolver toward the limbs pulling at his grandfather.

  Rebecca and Finn lunged toward the creature’s arms as it lifted his grandfather into the air until he hung upside down and another arm snaked around his legs.

  Finn stabbed at the writhing arm as it slithered along the floor into the kitchen. It shuddered, then squirmed forward again, and Finn thrust the knife through its flesh, pinning it to the floor. He stood over the trapped limb and smashed the heel of his boot down onto it. The flesh squashed from the weight of Finn’s full force, but reformed when he lifted his foot. It yanked back against the knife, splitting its flesh in two like a forked tongue.

  His grandfather hung limp in the air as the monster dragged him back into his bedroom. Finn dropped to the floor and stabbed at it frantically.

  “Reload a rifle!” Finn dropped the knife to the floor, grabbed his grandfather’s wrists, and cried out as he strained to pull the old man free.

  Rebecca and Michael ran back to the kitchen counter. They each grabbed a full rifle clip and loaded the first rifle they could find within the fog of gunpowder. By the time they returned to Finn’s side, his grandfather was dangling in the air above the bed, being used as a human shield as the bessie retreated toward the window. Michael fired his rifle at every shifting black mass near the window frame, but stopped as the creature blocked itself with his grandfather’s body. Finn ran out of the room and came back a minute later.

  “The door’s blocked.” Finn lunged forward and pulled on his grandfather’s wrists again.

  The glass at the edges of the window sliced against the creature’s flesh and then crashed to the floor as the bessie started dragging his grandfather out of the window. It hoisted his grandfather over the glass as if the creature wanted his prey alive. More black goo streaked down the walls under the window.

  “Grandpa!” Michael called. He didn’t want to hold the flashlight anymore. He didn’t want to see his grandfather hung up like a piece of meat prepared for a butcher.

  Finn grabbed Michael’s rifle and fired behind his grandfather as the creature retreated through the window into the darkness. As his grandfat
her moved further away, Finn dropped the rifle and pulled at his grandfather’s wrists. Michael and Rebecca fought to rip away the slithering limbs from around his grandfather’s chest.

  His grandfather’s face grew red as if about to explode with anger, but he spoke in a soft, strained voice.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  His grandfather dropped out of sight and Rebecca screamed. Michael shivered and dropped the flashlight.

  Finn picked it up. “Back away from the window. Go in the kitchen.”

  They followed Finn’s directions and prepared for another attack from the front door, but nothing returned. A shriveled severed limb remained on the floor mixed in with shards of wood and glass. Rebecca picked up Michael’s grandfather’s rifle and reloaded it. Michael’s head reeled as he staggered back into the kitchen and held the back of the chair to prop himself up. His stomach churned, and the room spun around him. He pulled out the chair and sat down with his face in his hands.

  “Get your things,” Finn said. “We can’t stay here tonight.”

  18

  Michael flinched as he opened his eyes. His nightmare scattered away like cockroaches at the first sign of light, and he shook himself awake. He couldn’t believe he’d slept at all. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and caught his breath. The desk lamp next to the bed was on, but the sunlight pierced the blinds and lit the room.

  Rebecca’s long brown hair sprawled across her pillow. She faced away from him and snored like a kitten. The warmth of her thigh pressing against his leg comforted him. His pants had twisted around his legs during the night, so he carefully crept out of bed not to disturb her and straightened them out. Rebecca rolled and faced him without opening her eyes, throwing out one arm across where he’d been sleeping. They’d all slept in their clothes at Finn’s insistence, so they could be ready for anything. He’d also insisted Rebecca sleep alone in the only bedroom for her privacy with Finn on the living room floor and Michael on the couch. But it was a king size bed, and Rebecca had asked Michael to sleep next to her, which had made his heart race. Finn had objected at first.

  “You two aren’t sleeping together in my bed,” Finn had said with a smirk.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” Rebecca pleaded.

  He stared at both of them through narrowed eyelids. “Keep your clothes on and go right to sleep. Understand?”

  Rebecca had nodded. Michael had rolled his eyes. What did he think they would do? Every muscle ached, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Still, his chest fluttered when she’d crawled under the bed sheet with him. The buzz of energy only faded after her breathing drew out deep. They hadn’t even touched, although she’d shared a smile with him before turning away. Her bloodshot eyes and distant stare connected with the heaviness surrounding him.

  The events of the previous night flashed through his mind. Had all of that happened? His grandfather was gone. His heart sank, and he dropped his head. Had that been his fault too? Another loved one had been lost to his incompetence.

  Now he dug in his backpack, pulled out a bottle of water, and finished it. He stuffed the empty bottle back inside his pack as Rebecca’s chest convulsed, and she choked in a breath. She muttered a few words and clenched her jaw. She grimaced.

  “Rebecca,” Michael said.

  Her fingers twitched, and she gasped in another breath.

  “Rebecca,” he repeated.

  He knocked her from whatever nightmare had seized her mind. Her body calmed, and her breathing heaved in once more before flowing back into a tranquil rhythm.

  All his muscles ached even more than before he’d gone to bed.

  He plodded out of the room, down the hallway, and toward the kitchen. Every light was on, and as he entered the kitchen, he heard Finn snoring in the living room. The sun radiated through the windows and small particles of dust drifted through the air within the shafts of light. He used the bathroom, and then returned to the kitchen and found a muffin even though he wasn’t hungry at all. He sat at the table and pulled it apart piece by piece. After the first bite he stopped eating. He pushed back from the table, screeching his heavy wooden chair across the floor. Finn’s snoring stopped.

  “There’s cereal in the pantry,” Finn said.

  “Thanks,” Michael answered. “I didn’t think you’d hear me.”

  “I hear everything.”

  The couch squeaked, and Finn groaned. Michael stuffed another chunk of the muffin into his mouth, and Finn appeared at the edge of the kitchen fully dressed, his hair a mess, and still holding a pistol in his hand. Finn looked down at the weapon, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I guess I don’t need to carry this everywhere.” He walked over to the kitchen table, set the pistol down, and sat across from Michael, dropping his face into his hands. His eyes strained to open, and he rubbed his neck.

  “I should’ve gotten a bigger couch,” he said. “Never thought I’d be sleeping on that thing. How’d you like my bed?”

  “Comfortable.” Michael pushed the muffin away.

  “Yes, it is. Two thousand bucks for that thing. But I sleep like a baby. Or I used to, anyway, before this town went to shit.”

  Finn popped bread into the toaster. “You want toast with that muffin? Long day ahead.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Michael said. “What are we going to do about my grandpa?”

  “After Rebecca comes down, we’ll go back over to the house. Is she up?”

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “We need to grab some items, a few more weapons, and I think you need more training. We’re going down into the tunnels below the church. It’s dark and cold and dangerous. Art has a map somewhere in his house, although we don’t know if it’s accurate or not since we never got into the tunnels that far to find out, but maybe it’ll help us. It ain’t gonna be easy that’s for sure.”

  “Is it just us three?”

  Finn nodded. “Nobody else to call. Everyone else has disappeared. If we could get out of town, I know people who might help us, but the temple will stop us. They banned my brother, Quint, in Green Hills from coming into town.” Finn lost the drowsy fog from his eyes and peered at Michael. “Nobody’s come back from a creature attack, but I promise you I won’t stop until we get Art and Audrey back. Don’t you worry. I’ll do everything I can.”

  Finn brought three glasses of orange juice to the table, and then went back and made toast.

  “You got to eat something,” Finn said. “You’re gonna need your strength.”

  Finn set two plates of toast on the table, sliding one over to him, and dropped into the chair straight ahead. He’d crunched through half a slice before Michael finished chewing his first bite. Finn finished eating, stood up, and grabbed the pistol off the table.

  “We’ll stop at your house first, and then we’ll stop at Rebecca’s.” Finn motioned to his bedroom where Rebecca hadn’t come out yet. “Time to wake up the rest of the team.”

  Michael set aside his toast and went to the bedroom. Rebecca’s chest rose and fell below the sheets as he sat down, facing her on the side of the bed where he had slept. Her breaths were soft now. She was awake, but he didn’t say a word. Beyond her, pictures lined the bookshelves; Finn and a woman. His wife? Lots of pictures of him with her. Pictures of him in a police uniform. A gold-plated plaque displayed ‘Certificate of Recognition: 20 Years of Service: The City of Stone Hill: Chief Finn Hardwick.’

  Rebecca moaned and sniffed, which he mistook for laughter at first. She was crying. He walked around to her side of the bed and bent forward with his hand on her shoulder.

  “We’ll find them,” Michael whispered.

  Tears ran across her cheeks and soaked into the pillow. She pulled her knees up closer into her chest. Her eyes pressed shut, and the bed jiggled as she gasped for breaths between the tears.

  He wanted to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, but instead he stroked her shoulder through the blanket. His mouth droppe
d open to say something, but nothing came out. Nothing he could say would help her.

  “I want my mom back,” she said.

  “We’ll find her,” he said, but he didn’t believe it. And he didn’t believe they’d find his grandfather either. He was just a kid from California who’d killed his dad and was now was responsible for the disappearance of his grandfather. And what would happen to his grandmother? Nobody could help her now.

  Michael flinched when Finn’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Time to get going, kids.”

  Michael went back out into the kitchen and sat down again at the kitchen table, waiting for Rebecca to get ready. When she was done, Michael strapped on his backpack, and they climbed into Finn’s truck and headed back out to his grandparents’ house. A white speck dotted the road ahead next to his grandparents’ house, and Michael’s breathing sped up. The speck grew as it headed toward them and he released a flood of pent up air as a white car driven by a gray haired woman sped past them.

  Finn led them up to the back door of his grandparents’ house, and before they reached the top step of the porch, the broken windows stared back at them. Dark, cold, and uninviting, the house was a stark contrast to the warmth his grandparents had radiated. Streaks of blood and debris spilled out from the shattered bedroom window onto the ground. A trail of glass and wood fragments led out across the yard toward the stream beyond the pasture, the same stream where Rebecca had discovered her mother’s shoes.

  “Should we follow the stream?” Michael asked, pointing out the path left by the retreating creature.

  “No need,” Finn said. “I know where it took him.”

  They crept into the house like burglars who were unsure if the owners were home. Finn tried the light switch, but the power was still dead. He scanned the darkness ahead with his pistol, and they entered the kitchen. The crime scene had changed. The cupboards and drawers were open, and some items lay strewn across the floor.