The Lurking Season
Page 33
“Looks like we have a positive on a kid,” said Macowee, thrusting his chin toward the coloring books.
“Yeah…”
“Let’s split up, check the place out. You take the left, I’ll take the right.”
“Got it,” said Tanner. He darted across the room, disappearing on the other side of the doorway that led into a hall. His footsteps echoed in the hallway on the other side of the wall.
After giving Tanner time to move on, Macowee whipped his gun around and slipped through the same doorway Tanner had just gone through moments ago. He could see his partner investigating the kitchen to the left. Tanner glanced back, making eye contact with Macowee. They both nodded. Macowee pointed in front of him, indicating to his partner that he was heading forward.
Then he was moving again.
Macowee searched the rooms that occupied the narrow hallway. Other than mess and discarded debris, he found nothing out of the ordinary.
He searched a spare room that was mostly empty and a bedroom he assumed belonged to the parent or parents, due the size of the bed. The bathroom had also been pillaged, but it was empty.
He made his way down the hall, to the last bedroom on the left. The door was slightly ajar. He paused, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it.
Entering, Macowee found the room was pitch black. He could almost make out two sets of windows on the far side of the room, but they had been blacked out with either a dark tarp or plastic, which took away all hope of any light from outside getting in.
He switched the gun from his right hand to his left and fumbled his fingers across the wall in a mad quest for the light-switch. Arching his fingers like a spider, they crawled along the wall. The tips tinkered over a hard plastic cover. He stopped.
“Let there be light,” he mumbled, flipping the switch. The room filled with a dark blue light, the kind you would normally see at the zoo while exploring the reptile exhibit; certainly not what Macowee had expected.
He took a couple steps forward, entering the shadowy bedroom. It was as dark as moonlight. Stopping a few feet inside, he took the gun and placed it back in his trigger hand. He pointed it forward, preparing himself for anything.
He scanned the room. He checked the dressers to the left. The drawers had been pulled open and left that way. Empty. A few articles of clothing had been left behind, draping over the gaping drawers. A shirt sat crumpled in a wad at the foot of the dresser. Tanner knelt down and snatched it with his free hand. Holding it by the collar he flung it wide. The shirt opened up. It was small, big enough for a child around the age of six or so. The design on the front was a Tyrannosaurus Rex towering over a quivering Stegosaurus.
A kid definitely has been here. Where are you now, little guy?
He dropped the shirt on the floor, stood. Adjusting his belt, he moved on.
The closet was just a few feet from the dresser. The door stood open. He stepped to the opened frame and removed his flashlight from his belt. The closet’s interior was even darker than the room. Holding the flashlight by his head, he clicked it on. A small beam of light cut through the black. He shined it here and there, only discovering vacated thin-wired clothes hangers inside.
Sighing, Macowee turned his back to the closet. He scanned the room with his flashlight as he walked toward the bed. Shining the light to his left, the round disc skimmed across crayon drawings taped to the wall. From the skill with which they had been created, he figured the artist was a child. The drawings varied. Some were just shapes or scribbled lines, but the ones scattered on the floor were what intrigued him the most.
He made his way to the scattered stack and crouched. He set the flashlight on the floor, keeping the beam pointed at the drawings. Flipping through the sketches he found crayon creations of madness, as if a six year old child had been drawing a horror comic, telling tales on the gore-drenched pages.
A lady, scribbled in blue and red lay on her back while a small, fuzzy creature tore into her stomach, pulling out her intestines. The intestines were drawn with red in curved lines. The guts wrapped around a greenish-colored ball for a hand. The fingers were a row of small lines.
The creature was apparently feasting on the red lines.
Feasting on the guts…
Macowee tossed the picture aside, disgusted. Underneath was a sloppily drawn man on white construction paper in black crayon. The featureless man held a shovel over a patch of scribbled green lines that Macowee guessed was grass. Stick arms and legs protruded from the green patch. While this man was apparently burying bodies, the creature sat on a rock and watched. Both figures in the drawing had curved lines for mouths. Smiles. Either happy from the grave digging, or just enjoying the time together.
The last drawing was somewhat a pleasant one: a family of three holding hands. The man with the shovel was on the right, a woman with black hair was on the left, and in the middle was the creature. This drawing depicted him with light brown hair on top of his head, a light green body the color of plastic Easter grass, and little brown lines waving across its body which Macowee assumed were tiny hairs.
“The whole family,” he muttered.
Nauseated, Macowee stood up and turned around. His eyes landed on the bed. He paused. He hadn’t checked there yet, but he really didn’t want to, either. Although he hadn’t found much of anything useful, he felt as if he had found a hidden cemetery in this room.
Still might, he realized.
Aiming the flashlight to the top of the mattress, he saw blankets piled and bundled into a massive ball. They’d been folded and wrapped around one another. It wasn’t a gigantic mound, but definitely one that was large enough to conceal a kid.
He slid his thumb over the safety lock on his gun and flipped it the left. The gun was ready to fire. He stepped over to the bed, his tread soundless on the padded carpet. At the bed, he slouched over, using the barrel of his gun to sort through the blankets. He pulled sheet after sheet away on his way to the bottom.
Sticking his barrel deep into the mound, it smacked something solid with a thump.
He’d gone too deep for someone of any size to be hiding under the blankets, but he’d definitely found something that wasn’t the mattress.
With the help of his left hand, he jerked the blankets out of the way, unveiling the solid object his gun had poked.
He jumped back, screaming once he saw the surprise waiting for him below the sheets. “Tanner? Get in here! Now!” He pressed the side of his gun against his thudding heart.
The sound of Tanner’s frantic approaching footsteps came from the hallway. Tanner appeared at the doorway, panting. “What’d you find?”
“This,” said Macowee, pointing to the severed female hand.
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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The Lurking Season
Copyright © 2015 by Kristopher Rufty
ISBN: 978-1-61922-685-2
Edited by Don D’Auria
Cover by Scott Carpenter
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2015
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, The Lurking Season