Twins of Prey II: Homecoming

by W. C. Hoffman

  Falling into the cellar through a five-foot hole that had been roughly cut through the floor boards and then covered back up with a large area rug Henderson came crashing into the hole with the rug in tow. Slamming down onto the ground with her right arm in a reactionary attempt to break her fall did nothing but hyperextend her arm at the elbow. While it was not broken, it was useless as the pain began radiating upwards from her arm and into her neck. Slightly dazed from her fall she was unsure if her vision was blurred due to hitting her head or if it was purely just a cloudy mixture of sawdust and multiple decades worth of house dust that hung about due to her unexpected decent.

  She had not turned a light on upon getting home and in this part of the house there were no windows to allow light from the moon which stood full in the sky. Reaching for her hip, she suddenly remembered that her duty belt was still in her back pack which she was holding onto prior to when she fell. Inside the pack would be her phone, gun, and a flashlight. Rustling around in the dark she was unable to find the bag in the small room that now somehow held her captive. Feeling the dirt floor and mortared field stone wall Henderson knew exactly where she was in the house. The old cellar coal room.

  The coal cellar was storage for just that, coal. In Henderson House’s fully functioning days, coal was just as abundant as wood and burnt both hotter and longer with less work to heat the house. Feeling around she found the cast iron metal door that led up and out to the back yard, locked. Even if the room was fully lit, getting out of it in this situation would have been impossible. She was locked in the room with only one way out, up. Yet there was no rope and certainly no ladder. Henderson quickly came to terms with the fact that there was no, hope. Reaching around in her pockets with her left hand, she fought back the pain of her dangling right arm that was all but useless due to fall. As she emptied her pockets she knew that there was not much to be found. Car keys, a lighter, and some gum. Hardly enough to use for any type of escape device.

  Henderson sat there for a minute trying to deduce exactly what had happened. Had the floor’s age finally caught up to itself and just given way? Or perhaps there was something more going on here. Running her fingers across one of the beams that once was part of the floor joist she felt the cut. Smooth and clean with a ruffled burr on the outer edge. The floor did not break due to old age, she had walked directly into a trap. A trap that had been set in her own house.

  Sheriff Henderson immediately flashed back to that fateful day on the river where her brothers described to her how each of her fellow deputies had died. Henderson thought of Coleman, at the bottom of a pit, impaled. She immediately knew her brothers had been inside her house and set this trap. It was clear to her that the lack of spikes meant one thing, for some reason they wanted her alive. As much as she was glad to be alive, she could not believe that the same trap that had captured and ultimately killed a bumbling jackass like Coleman was just as effective on her. She felt violated that the twins were in her house but then she remembered another thing Drake had said to her and although she had never heard Uncle’s voice herself she did now.

  Prey feels the safest in places it knows, Uncle would teach the boys. Kill him in his home and he will die without knowing.

  Only she was not dead and that meant that so far her brothers had failed to kill her, again.

  Taking the lighter out of her pocket she flicked open the silver lid that once was solid brass but had worn over the years of use and rolled her thumb across the striker. She had never been a smoker but always carried a lighter. Not just any lighter but this gold metallic Zippo brand one. It was given to her by an instructor she had in the academy. An old Navy veteran named Don. While Don was not the best teacher in her school, he was her favorite and the feeling was mutual. The click and clacking sound of the brass top as it performed its opening and closing action was soothing to her. The lighter had been a gift and each time she lit it, the smell of its lighter fluid igniting triggered a fond memory. Now was not the time for fond memories, but none-the-less she was glad to have light.

  Poking around the room, she took inventory of its contents. Broken wood, her, and the rug was it. Again all hope faded there in the flickering light of the Zippo’s flame. Looking up, she thought about the measurements of the house and knew she had fallen through the kitchen and the basement landing in the cellar. She estimated that the fall alone being almost twenty feet could have killed her, but there she was alone and trapped.

  The light went out, Henderson shook the lighter hearing plenty of fluid inside the chamber and struck it again successfully only this time there in the light she saw Drake’s face. Slamming the top of the lighter shut she hurled herself towards him only to slam into the rock wall of the dugout Michigan cellar. Reaching down, striking the wick and illuminating the small room again she saw that she was again, alone. Drake was not there, Drake was never there. Her mind raced in an attempt to make sense of what was happening to her. Had she died, was this Hell or worse yet Purgatory? Was she crazy, was she seeing things?

  With each thought she had, the level of hate grew inside of her. How could they do this to her, how could they have turned her into this? A blundering fool at the bottom of a pit. Her only hope was that bag, her gun, and the phone. Calling for help was the only thing that would save her. Yet she knew as the only cop in town, help was miles away. She had to get the bag.

  Looking up, straining her eyes in the flickering light, the shadows made it hard to see what exactly was above her. Yet looking up there was a small tingle of something shining and in the dark, her mind told her that it was the zipper of her bag. While she knew that in the dark your mind can turn a tree stump into a ten-point buck, she had to hope that it was indeed the zipper. And if she was seeing the zipper that meant the bag was on the edge.

  The only way to make sure it was indeed the bag was to try and cast the light on it in some way. With no other options Henderson tossed the lit Zippo up in the air through the hole with enough force for it to reach the top. The lighter’s path illuminated the walls showing Henderson the entire scale of what she was dealing with. This first toss was nowhere near high enough and it came falling back down to the coal pit. Ignoring the fact that the first attempt did nothing but highlight multiple nails and screws on its way up that could all easily have looked just like the bags zipper, Henderson threw it upward again. Being forced to use her left hand due to the injury on her right meant the tosses were less than accurate; the second one did travel higher than the first, but she was still six feet short of the floor’s opening.

  The third toss she put all she had into it and the gold lighter shot up the hole flame intact like a rocket headed to space. This attempt had more than enough gusto to reach the top and she watched as the flame confirmed her hopes. It was her bag laying there on the edge. She now just needed to rig up some way of pulling it over the edge. Holding her hand out to catch the lighter as it reached the pinnacle of its upward motion and began to come back down, the light just hung in the air. As if it was floating, as if she were looking into the sky at the sun. Floating there in the air, not going up, not coming down.

  Then a darkness passed between her and the floating lighter as she realized what had happened. Someone had caught the lighter in midair. In the darkness there was a hand, but she could not see the face of her capturer. The hand again crossed between her and the light darkening her tunnel and this time the hand closed the lid putting out the small torch she had relied on for the last few minutes. The lighter was the only thing she had that going for her and now it was gone, along with her hope, again.

  Sheriff Henderson knew that either Tomek or Drake stood atop her hole only she did not know which one was there or if it was both of them.

  All she knew for sure was that, she was not alone.

  15 Sermon

  “Hello?” Sheriff Henderson said in an inquisitive manor from her position in the coal room. There was no answer.

  “Who is up there?” She asked again and still go
t no response.

  Whoever was above her remained silent for another twenty tense seconds that felt like minutes. The silence and darkness was broken by the clicking of the lighter’s lid being lifted and the roll being dragged to create the spark that ignited the wick’s fuel. This time with the light held up at the top of her living room she would make out the shadow of a figure.

  “Just kill me already, if that is what you are here to do, just get it over with you monsters!” Henderson yelled at her brothers.

  “We are not monsters,” a voice responded. To her surprise and even her dismay it was not the voice of Tomek or Drake. It was a voice she was unfamiliar with and suddenly she was not sure if that meant she should be hopeful or even more afraid.

  “Then what are you?” Henderson asked.

  “Angels,” Michael answered this time. Michael’s voice was distinct and memorable. Henderson knew right away who was at the top of the hole. The only thing she didn’t know was if they were the ones who made the trap.

  “Then help me?” Henderson asked thinking it was worth a shot.

  “Thou shall not murder,” DC said.

  “They attacked me,” I had no choice.

  “Tower and Jacoby attacked you too I bet didn’t they, bitch,” Gabriel said spitting down into the darkness of the whole. The foaming wad of saliva found its mark hitting Henderson directly on her cheek.

  “I did not kill either one of them and Father Niko knows that,” Henderson explained in her defense but through the darkness she knew the angels were not there to hear her side of any story.

  “You killed them you lying whore and now you must die.” Again Gabriel yelled at her with a particularly venomous like demeanor.

  “Oh yea, what happen to thou shall not kill?” She asked.

  Brooks had yet to speak but at this point he chimed in, “Exodus 21:14 tells us that if a man kills ones neighbor, so as to kill him craftily, you are to take him even from my altar, that he may die,” Brooks continued on, “So you see Father Niko says you must pay for your sins and thus, today, is your judgment day.”

  “So you are here to judge me then huh?” Henderson yelled back.

  “No, we are not. We are here to send you away from this earth so that you may be judged at the gates of Heaven and then sent on to Hell where you belong!” Michael said.

  A few minutes passed of silence and all she could hear was the shuffling of feet and quiet talking coming from above. Henderson could tell they were discussing something but had no clue as to what it was. Henderson broke the silence asking,

  “What makes you think you won’t go to Hell for killing me?”

  “First John chapter five verse nineteen,” DC answered.

  “Oh yea more verses huh what’s that one say, thou had a crack whore mother and thus must do as Father Niko says cause I’m a dumb shit ghetto kid that can’t think for himself?” Henderson knew verbally assaulting them was not going to get her out of that hole, but she thought if she angered them enough at least they might kill her more quickly.

  Brooks again began quoting a verse from first John, “We know that we are from God, and the whole world lies in the power of the evil one.”

  “And, I am the evil one huh?” She asked.

  “One of many,” Gabriel answered.

  Michael then said, “We are the angels of Lucky Trail. Sent here to serve God’s will under the direction of the honorable Father Niko Allen. Guided by the light of Isiah 13:9 which tells us, Behold, the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it.”

  While professing the word of the Bible Michael took pauses for dramatic effect which was clear evidence of his years watching Father Niko do the same while preaching his weekly sermons.

  “Get it over with then, come kill the Devil in the pit, you blasphemous heretics!” Henderson yelled back at them and immediately could tell that they did not like being called that and she may have had finally struck a nerve with the four of them.

  “Listen bitch, you are a serpent. This ain’t no Daniel in the lion’s den bullshit. David verses Goliath shall not be comforting to you either. We are not lions and there is no Goliath up here. We are angels so enjoy your hole and shut the hell up.” Gabriel’s response to being called a heretic was somewhat of a surprise to her.

  While she knew the boys of Lucky Trail were raised by Niko she never really expected them to have this much biblical knowledge. While of course Lucky Trail was a church-based camp, most of the members where anything but church-like. Did Niko choose these angels due to their outstanding faith in God or were they the ones just dumb enough to place their faith into Niko himself? Was Niko, in fact, their real God? Either way it did not matter to her as the truth would not alter the direness of her situation.

  “You know what really sucks about all this?” Henderson asked.

  “What’s that?” DC replied.

  “Look what you did to my floor, I worked so hard on that room and you messed it all up,” Henderson said trying to cope with her status of near death at the hands of a group of young men yet again.

  The group just laughed, “Well, you can thank Old Man Hawkins for that. He sold me this saw, which is gonna come in handy when I need to cut your ass up into pieces before tossing you into the river.” Brooks revealed the plan going forward and now that she was aware of their intentions she again wished they would just get on with it.

  “Hey, it is dusty as shit down here. Will you throw me down a bottle of water or something. If I am going to die anyway at least let me get something to drink,” Henderson pleaded in a strong voice.

  Again they just laughed.

  “Here you go, drink this,” Brooks said.

  Henderson didn’t hear anything other than the angels laughing at what Brooks had said and then she felt it. Warm and wet and falling onto her in a stream. Brooks had begun to relive himself into the hole which made his cohorts laugh widely like a pack of hyenas standing over a freshly-captured antelope on the great plains of the Serengeti. Henderson was their antelope.

  The laughing stopped as quickly as it began and she looked up still unable to see anything but darkness. The stream of urine was replaced by a rushing of wind as if some form of a backdraft had caused the air pressure in her tiny hole to change. And then she felt it hit her. Solid and unforgiving. Unable to tell what it was they had dropped on her, she only knew it was large and heavy with an irregular shape. The object had slammed onto her head and flattened her to the ground it seemed all in one motion. Henderson figured at the moment that this was their plan. To drop stuff on her or bury her or something to that manner until she was dead. She pretty much knew none of them were brave enough to enter the hole and take her on themselves. Like they had said, they were angels not lions. She was not dead yet, which meant more would be falling down on top of her.

  Digging the heels of her boots into the ground in an attempt to reach the corner of her small prison where she at least could attempt to hide in a corner and protect herself from the direct blows of the next round of falling debris. Curiously Henderson could only hear the angels above yelling or laughing and she couldn’t tell which it was. But there were pauses. Henderson House was well built, yet it was an old house and in houses like that you could hear every footstep made on the floors above you. There were plenty of them hustling around at the current moment which meant they must be getting ready to complete their attack.

  Reaching back with her hands in the dark she felt the soft skin like texture of an arm, running her hands to the end of the object confirmed her suspicions. Feeling the hand startled her and if she could have stood up at the moment without falling over she would of quite literally jumped. Maybe even high enough to get her out of the hole she thought. It was then she realized they had drug the body of the boy from the kitchen floor window and tossed it down upon her.

  As if getting pissed on wasn’t enough, she thought to herself.

  Pushing
the dead boy’s body out of the way she rolled over to her stomach and in doing so she caught a reflective glimpse of something in what little light there was down there. Reaching her hand out she grabbed it and smiled as the coolness of Navy Don’s metal lighter against her skin provided a small bit of comfort. Henderson figured when they tossed the kitchen boy’s body down they must have accidentally dropped the lighter.

  Clicking open the top and striking it to flame her eyes again detonated into pain from the brightness. As the blindness quickly subsided she looked about the room and realized immediately what all the yelling, scuffling and moving about on the floors above her was due to. The light showed her exactly what she needed to see and she gained her strength with a clear enough head to stand up and look directly at the body.

  Henderson was shocked to see what had been tossed into her coal room. She had been joined down there not by the kitchen boy she had killed but by an angel. Brooks now laid there in her pit and he laid there dead. At first Henderson figured he must have slipped while pissing down upon her but as she moved the lighter closer to his body she knew that was not the case. Brooks had been shot in the back with a stone-tipped arrow which was now extruding from his chest with a large piece of his heart’s ventricle still attached to it. Tomek and Drake had found Henderson House.

  Sheriff Henderson reached down grabbing the blood-drenched cedar shaft of the arrow and pulled it forward to complete it’s pass through of Brooks’ chest cavity. As the fletching cleared the rest of his chest it made a dragging sound with the release of air as if someone had let the air out of a deflating Mylar balloon. She stepped on the shaft breaking it into a smaller piece that she could attempt to wield as some sort of a knife or mini spear. This way she had some form of a weapon, as at this point she did not know if her brothers were there to save her or complete the task of sending her to Hell.

  Either way there was no light at the end of her tunnel, but with her Zippo there was light in the tunnel and she would at least see the attack coming this time. She would not die in the dark, not tonight anyway.