Damned and Cursed (Book 6): Broken Home

by Bullion, Glenn

  Including her husband.

  She let out a sigh as she searched the office, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. An old Bible sat on the corner of the desk, but she couldn't imagine defending herself with the good book. A picture of Jesus Christ adorned the wall. Perhaps she could break the glass frame and use it, although she'd probably cut herself as well.

  "What are you doing, Mom?" Sarah asked.

  "I'll need the key to those cuffs. I'm going to go get it."

  She searched the desk, and an old wooden cross sat in the top drawer. Gripping it tight, she practiced a few downward thrusts. It was better than nothing.

  "Mommy," Elizabeth said, her voice breaking.

  Janet looked down to see her youngest bawling. She didn't have much time, but she leaned down and hugged her.

  "Awww, baby. Don't worry. It will be okay. I'll be back in just a few minutes."

  "I love you, Mommy."

  She squeezed tighter. "I love you, too." She hugged Sarah as well and put a hand on Mark's shoulder. "You take care of each other. Okay? I'll be right back."

  Something dawned on Janet as she approached the door leading back to the hall.

  It was quiet.

  There was still noise. She could hear movement, and what sounded liked quiet chanting. But the screams were gone.

  Opening the door, she wasn't ready for what lay before her. It was the stuff of nightmares.

  The walls of the church were caked with crimson and gore. A motionless body lay near her feet. She recognized Derek, from the steel mill. He apparently thought he'd find refuge in the office, but didn't make it. He lay on his back, looking up at Janet with lifeless eyes.

  Dead bodies were in various positions throughout the church. One was folded in half on top of a pew. Another was slumped upside down against the wall. There were more dead than alive, with several people writhing on the floor in agony. Catherine, from the pharmacy, moaned in the center aisle as her left eye hung from its socket.

  Byron had someone pinned on one of the pews. His hands were wrapped around the man's throat, and it wasn't witnessing the act of murder that terrified Janet so much. It was the expression on Byron's face.

  He was so calm.

  Janet saw movement to her right. Throughout the horror, the carnage, Ed still sat on his knees near the front. The goat was dead, its throat slit. Byron's cup was full of blood. She thought he would grab it and suddenly take a drink, but he only continued to pray over it.

  She stepped forward, and her foot found a puddle of blood. It pulled at her shoe, and it took a bit of effort to take another step. Glancing down the first pew, she looked for Frank. Most everyone still wore their robe, making identifying the sheriff difficult. Finally, about halfway through the hall, she saw a man lying motionless on his side, holding a gun. She recognized Frank's bald head.

  Carefully, she made her way down the pew. Byron continued strangling his victim. From her angle, Janet could only see the victim's hands, grasping at Byron's shoulders. He didn't stop, didn't show any mercy.

  She leaned down as far as she could as she hovered over Frank. It was a struggle to push his robe out of the way. Frank still wore his police uniform. Janet was horrified at the thought of Frank doing his job, protecting town, and then arriving at the church immediately after to participate in the debauchery around them.

  The sheriff had a belt with several pouches, along with several pockets in his trousers. Where would he keep the key to his handcuffs?

  Her hand was nearly to the first pouch when the sheriff spun. He looked up at her with panic in his eyes. His nose was broken, and he was missing a tooth. But he was very much alive.

  "S-Sheriff—"

  Frank reached out and grabbed her wrist. He pulled hard, throwing her off balance, and jumped to his feet. Janet tried to run, but he slammed the grip of his gun into the back of her neck. The world was moving for a moment, as dizziness attacked her. Frank locked her left arm behind her and shoved the gun to her head. Janet froze in place when she felt the cold barrel to her temple.

  "Stop!" Frank shouted.

  Byron looked up. He had finished strangling his victim, and wiped the back of his wrist across his brow. A trail of blood remained. Reaching down, he grabbed a knife from the pew. The blade looked like it had human flesh on it. Ed continued to mumble and pray not far behind him.

  "Stop?" Byron said. "Or you'll shoot me? Sheriff, I think we both know now how far shooting me will get you."

  "No." Janet flinched when Frank nudged her head with the barrel of the gun. "I'll kill her."

  Byron laughed so hard he had to lean on the pew to keep upright. Janet wasn't sure what was more terrifying. The horrific scene surrounding her, or the sight of a man completely unaffected by it, laughing.

  His gaze focused on Frank, the smile gone. Janet felt Frank's hand trembling.

  "Do you really think putting a gun to that woman's head is going to save you? I'll kill her myself, just to get to you."

  Frank's voice cracked. "You're bluffing! I-I mean it!"

  "I know you do, tiny mortal." Byron regarded the church hall, as if he were admiring his work. "You know what's ironic? You gathered your buddies here to summon something dark. You accomplished exactly that, although probably not what you expected. You'll be dead in just a few minutes. Do you know that? Do mortals sense when their end is coming?"

  A gust of wind suddenly blew through the church, blowing out several candles. The air became heavy, oppressive. Frank sensed it too, as he grabbed Janet tighter, sending a bolt of pain up her arm.

  Ed's praying grew louder, more intense.

  Different spots on the walls around them grew darker. The darkness spread, like growing mold. The hair stood up on the back of Janet's neck as a low, guttural moan moved through the church. It was unlike anything she'd heard in her life.

  Byron only smiled.

  "Well, how about that?" He moved closer to Ed, who was still oblivious to the world around him. "Looks like this clown actually found a demonic gateway. And I'm not helping any, decorating this place with your guts. Oh well, Ed. You gave it your best shot."

  Byron kicked over the cup. The blood spilled and pooled around Ed's knees, along with the head of the goat. The darkness on the walls retreated into itself. The moaning stopped, and the air felt lighter.

  Only then did Ed finally open his eyes.

  "What happened?" he asked. "I…I felt them. They were coming."

  He jumped to his feet, confusion and sadness in his eyes. After taking in the massacre, his gaze focused on Byron.

  "You…killed all of them? All my friends?"

  "I tried. I think I saw a few smart ones heading for the door, but I got most of them." Byron rubbed his hands together, excited. "Except for you and the lawman here. Which I'll fix shortly."

  Byron cocked the knife near his ear. Ed stepped back, nearly stumbling over his robe. Janet reached out, but Frank held her in place.

  "No!" Janet shouted. "Stop!"

  She was surprised when Byron actually did so. Glancing back over his shoulder, he flashed Janet a look of curiosity.

  "Stop? Why?"

  "Janet?" Ed asked, seeing her for the first time. "What are you doing here? Oh God, you're not supposed to be a part of this."

  Byron laughed to himself. "Now he wants to bring God into it."

  "Well, I am a part of it. Me, and the girls. We're a very big fucking part of this!"

  "I did this for us!" Ed said. "I know you don't understand, and I would have explained it to you, after it was all over—"

  "After what was all over? After you chanted some more and killed a goat?"

  "Frank, get that gun away from her! That's my wife!"

  For a moment, Janet thought she recognized the man she'd married.

  "Ed, I…." Frank couldn't find the words. "I just want to live."

  "Look at what you did to our kids!" Janet shouted. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "I had to, hon
ey. I didn't hurt them, I promise. This was something I had to do. It's about power. We were never going to have to worry about anything again." Ed glared at Byron. "This is all your fault. You ruined everything!"

  Ed's expression turned into an unrecognizable mess. Rage and pain, mixed with hate. He raised the knife and charged Byron. Byron stepped to the side, avoiding the clumsy attack, and stabbed Ed in the shoulder. He fell to the floor, his chin slamming the nearby pew.

  Frank moved the gun from Janet to Byron, wanting to take one last shot.

  Janet reached back and grabbed Frank's testicles, like she'd done earlier with Byron. Frank's reaction was far different. The sheriff howled and released her. A shot rang out, which buzzed Byron's head and struck the wall behind him. She grabbed Frank's arm and bit down. Her teeth clenched together as she tasted blood. Frank tried to attack her with his free hand. He'd hit her twice before something cut the air next to Janet's head. Frank went still, the fight completely leaving him. He fell at her feet, and Janet looked down to see a knife protruding from Frank's eye, his mouth open. Janet had to lean against the pew in front of her to steady her knees.

  The church was quiet, except for the flickering of the candles. She wanted to believe that was a good thing, but she didn't know what to believe anymore.

  Byron stood over Ed, an amused smile on his face. Turning his back, he walked over to his cup, still laying on its side on the floor. He held it upside down to let the remaining blood drain from it.

  "He's alive," he said, standing over Ed once again. "You're right. Once you divorce him, take everything he has, he gets fucked in the ass in prison a few times…he'll wish he was dead."

  Janet wasn't sure if she should thank him or not.

  "T-Thank—"

  "Don't thank me," he interrupted. "You don't know where I was aiming."

  Her senses returned to her. Dropping down to her knees, she searched Frank's body while trying not to look at the knife sticking out of his face. Byron said nothing else. He simply watched her while admiring his cup.

  She found the key in one of his belt pockets. Her legs never moved quicker as she ran back to the office. The children perked up.

  "Mommy!" Elizabeth asked. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she said, hugging both of them. "Let's get out of here."

  "We heard some weird noises," Sarah said. "Were they…monsters?"

  Janet froze for a moment and met Sarah's gaze. That was a very good question.

  She freed Elizabeth, and the girl immediately threw her arms around her mother's neck. Gently setting her aside, Janet reached for Sarah's wrist.

  "Mrs. Fields, can you move your head?" Mark asked. "I want to see the dead bodies."

  Janet glared at Mark, not quite believing her ears. Mark stood up as far as the handcuffs would allow, trying to peer over Janet's head. There was only curiosity in his eyes.

  "Is my mom dead, too?"

  His voice lacked any emotion. He asked the question with the same enthusiasm as wondering when dinner would be ready.

  "Mom," Sarah said, shaking her arm. "Unlock this stupid thing."

  Janet snapped out of her trance and freed Sarah. She'd just finished with Mark when a man appeared in the rear office doorway.

  "Don't move!"

  She looked up to see Paul, the sheriff's deputy. Janet and Paul had dated briefly in junior high school. He stood with his arms outstretched, both hands on his revolver. Janet looked up to see the weapon pointed at her. If she never saw a gun again, she would be fine with that.

  "Don't shoot!" she shouted, putting her hands up. "Paul! It's me, Janet!"

  "Janet?" He lowered his weapon, but was still cautious. "What the hell is going on here? People all over the neighborhood are talking about gunfire."

  She didn't have the slightest clue on where to begin. The only thing she did know was she wanted to get herself and her children as far away as she could. Away from the church. Away from Byron. Away from Ed.

  The thought of Byron and Ed made her look back to the church hall. Looking over the desk, she saw Ed still lying on the floor. In the distance Mitch, another of Ed's coworkers at the garage, rose to his feet between two pews. Blood poured from his head and his arm was bent at the wrong angle. But he was alive, one of the lucky ones. Or perhaps not so lucky. Janet could see herself sitting right next to Mitch in the psychiatrist's chair.

  There was no sign of Byron. However, his cup lay on the floor, near the goat.

  Flashlights moved about the church hall, and two more officers swept the area. One of them vomited at the sight of the gore and dead goat. The other put Mitch in handcuffs, broken arm and all.

  Paul left Janet and the children alone to join the other officers. He checked for Ed's pulse, then made an announcement to call an ambulance.

  Sarah and Elizabeth both embraced Janet. She could barely breathe, but she didn't care. Closing her eyes, she held onto that moment, squeezing her children as hard as she could.

  NIGHT

  The scene was a circus. Janet sat with Sarah, Elizabeth, and Mark on the back of an open ambulance. Local police as well as state police moved in and out of the church. Bystanders stood outside their homes nearby, gossiping and watching the chaos. The local news was camped just beyond the police barrier. Veronica Chase, the closest thing to a celebrity the town had, stood on the grass with a microphone and stared into a camera.

  Men carried body after body out of the church. Each one was on a gurney, covered with a sheet. Occasionally an arm or leg would dangle as they were loaded into various vans and driven away. Janet wanted to feel sorry for them. She wanted to mourn them, despite the sick practice they were in to. But she was too numb. She felt nothing.

  The children must have felt the same way, as they said nothing. They all sat motionless, staring straight ahead. Sarah held Mark's hand. Janet didn't know what she was going to do. How would she explain to Sarah and Elizabeth what happened here tonight? How would they heal, move on?

  Would they heal?

  Another gurney was wheeled out, but it didn't carry a dead body. Ed was strapped down, his wrists handcuffed to the rails. He searched around frantically as flashbulbs continued to light up the night. Janet stiffened when he finally saw her.

  "Janet!" he shouted. "I did it for us! I promise! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

  She clenched her eyes shut as they loaded him into the back of another van. Sarah didn't move; she simply cried quietly. Elizabeth tried to run to her father, but Janet held her back. Unable to get away, Elizabeth simply turned and cried into Janet's stomach.

  Paul approached them and offered a sympathetic smile. He was smart enough not to offer condolences, or say anything at all. There were simply no words that would do any good.

  He turned his attention to Mark, and knelt down to make eye contact with the boy.

  "You're Mark, right?"

  The boy sniffled. "Yeah."

  "I'm Paul. Listen, we need to talk for a minute. Just you and me."

  Paul grabbed Mark's hand. Paul made eye contact with Janet as he led him away, and she felt a weight on her chest. His gaze said it all.

  Mary, Mark's mother, was dead.

  Janet wiped tears from her eyes as she held her children once again. She'd lost count of how many times she took them in her arms over the past twenty minutes. She'd continue to do so until they tired of it, and probably even then.

  Mindlessly glancing at the people around her, Janet's entire body tensed when she saw him.

  Byron.

  He was suddenly just there, talking with another police officer, one from the state. His clothes were different, a full suit and jacket with tie. He was well-groomed, not a hair out of place, not a drop of blood on him. In each hand was an expensive-looking suitcase. Byron and the officer shared a quiet laugh before Byron handed over one of the suitcases. The officer lifted it up and down, as if testing its weight. The officer then handed over a small object in a plastic bag. Byron examined it, and the
y gave each other a curt nod before the officer walked away.

  Byron turned and stared directly at her. He didn't need to search. He knew exactly where she was.

  Janet's breath hitched as he approached. She protectively placed a hand on each daughter's shoulder. They noticed him as well, and Elizabeth squeezed against her mother's ribs.

  "Mommy," she whimpered.

  "It's okay, baby," Janet said, trying to think logically. Byron wouldn't dare try to hurt them in front of so many people. "Just stay close. Stay with me."

  Byron laughed at their fear as he drew within earshot. Janet noticed a large badge pinned to his coat. Squatting down, he looked both children in the eye.

  "We meet again, Sarah, Elizabeth. Listen, do you see your friend Mark over there?"

  They turned to see Mark sitting in the grass. His stare was blank, emotionless. Paul stood not far away, talking to another officer while gesturing to the boy.

  "He just lost his mommy. You should go talk to him and lie about how everything will be okay while I talk to your mother."

  Sarah and Elizabeth looked to Janet for direction. She kissed them on the forehead and flashed a reassuring smile.

  "It's okay. Go talk to Mark."

  They ran off, and Janet watched them the entire way. Sarah hugged Mark tightly, and Janet realized how amazing her children were. Elizabeth held his hand. They were caring, compassionate, even after a group of adults showed them no such thing.

  Byron set the suitcase down and sat next to Janet. He held the plastic bag, letting it hang between his knees. Inside was the cup Byron had come to claim.

  "Ah, what a day," he said, as if coming home from a long day at work.

  "So…you're a police officer," she said sarcastically.

  "I am right now. I'm just renting this badge. It cost a pretty penny. Everything about today was expensive. But I happen to be very rich."

  Janet looked over the people crying in each other's arms. The police continued to work, but there was pain in their movements as well. Even Veronica Chase was wiping a tear from her eye off camera.