Huff Bend Hell House
Page 23
“This is Amy Maxwell,” she bellowed, “for KNOE reporting to you live from the Cahill Manor in Caldwell Parish.”
“No thank you,” Eric boasted and began fiddling for the channel buttons.
“This home is the site of the infamous and brutal murders of eight people nearly nine years ago and was reawakened only a week ago,” Amy continued.
“Leave it,” an all too familiar voice demanded from the other bed. It was John. “I wanna hear it.”
Eric obeyed the command and even dialed the volume back up a bit.
“Two boys—Eric Richardson and Jonathan Parker—residents of Columbia, ventured into these gates on a childhood exploration for the supernatural or paranormal and received far more than what they had bargained for.”
You can say that again, Eric thought modestly but kept it to himself.
“This house held a graveyard of skeletal remains, but unfortunately, none of these remains have been identified yet.”
The boys exchanged worried glances. They hadn't unearthed any remains. They had not found any remains anywhere and had searched nearly everywhere. The boys continued to watch.
“John Parker and Eric Richardson were rushed to Citizens Medical Center where they were treated immediately for various injuries. I am pleased to inform you all that both boys are stable and are in recovery at this time.”
Eric flashed John a wan smile. You’re famous, kid, he thought of saying. We’re celebrities. However, now was not the time for sarcasm or humor although it did feel great to hear his name on television.
“As for the Mr. John Doe also found at the scene, he, too, was escorted to Citizens Medical Center and treated. After a blood transfusion, he came out stabilized and is now in the midst of recovery. His current exact state is unknown.”
A sense of impending doom settled in over Eric, but he washed it away. He had nothing to fear. This place was crawling with cops now. As soon as Raymond recovered, he would have been hauled off to prison, and most likely not anywhere near here. Probably Angola.
Only one particular feeling overcame John: relief. Between exhaustion and sedation, he had slept a lot over this past week. Dreamed a lot as well; mostly dreamed of Raymond; the sound the butcher knife had made when it entered Raymond’s chest; that final depleted grunt. He thought that surely he had killed Raymond up until now.
“At this point, we have no positive ID on the John Doe in question, but the local law enforcements are currently working overtime to figure it out.”
Raymond Cahill, Eric wanted to scream. Your John Doe is Raymond Cahill.
“This has been Amy...wait one moment.” She lifted the index finger on her right hand—the one holding the field-issued KNOE microphone—in a pausing gesture. The index finger on her left hand shot up to her ear and pressed against an invisible earpiece. “I’ve just been told we have a positive ID on the John Doe. I repeat...we have a positive ID on the suspect in question. DNA analysis confirms our John Doe is one Raymond Jeffery Cahill.”
Eric’s feeling of impending doom suddenly turned to rejoice. No one would have ever believed them if they would have gave the cops that name.
“Raymond was thought to have died in a drowning accident nearly ten years ago.” Her finger shot to the earpiece again.
“He didn’t, Amy,” Eric announced.
“I have also just been informed that Mr. Cahill has somehow escaped from Citizens Medical Center. The specifics are sketchy at this time, but he is thought to be possibly armed and extremely dangerous.”
*****
She droned on shortly, but whatever she said after the latter fell upon deaf ears in this particular hospital room.
Eric searched for, found, and pressed the CALL button that would ring the nurses’ station. He wasn’t sure what good could come from buzzing the on-call nurse. But why not? His body was littered with various IV tracts, injection points, and protruding hoses. His options were limited. When no answer came after a few passing seconds, he buzzed again. Silence.
“Nurse?” Eric yelled. It came out as more of a raspy grunt. The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor pulsated faster as his heart rate rose. He pressed the CALL button repeatedly, and only silence followed each time.
Finally, as he was readying to press the button for a sixth time—or maybe seventh, he had lost count—the door clicked open.
“Is there a problem, boys?” a raspy, hoarse voice queried. Not a woman, nor a nurse, but a man. He donned a pair of matching baby-blue scrubs underneath an oversized white lab coat. His hands were engulfed in a thick layer of latex. He grasped a clipboard in his left hand. His nametag read: DR M ANDREWS. A faded white-and-purple LSU ball cap rested atop his head pulled down low enough to cover his eyes.
Not very professional, Eric thought, and despite the fact there was something all too familiar about the way this man wore his cap, he knew this was no time to argue the proper attire for medical professionals.
When no response came from either of the boys, the man spoke again. “What can I do for you two boys?” The voice was familiar as well…all too familiar.
“W-where’s the n-n-nurse?” John asked shakily.
“Oh...she had to step out,” he replied. “But I’m here to help.” He reached slowly into one of the oversized pockets on the oversized lab coat. “Dr. Cahill at your service.” He dropped the clipboard; it fell to the floor with an audible CLANK that echoed softly in the quiet room. He pulled the hat from atop his head and tossed it aside. The froth of red, curly hair settled into place over his ears.
“No!” Eric yelled.
Raymond pulled his hand back free, now grasping the glimmering black handle of a butcher knife. “Oh yes,” he shrieked grimly. “It’s time to finish what we started.”
The boys screamed as Raymond stepped forward. Behind him, through the open door, the walls were splattered with blood, and bodies were strewn about in complete disorder. The knife’s blade glistened red, and his eyes, those crafty green eyes that held no pleasure, filled with a joyful overcast.
“You have no saviors here,” Raymond said. “My family cannot save you now. It is time for the grand finale.” He lunged forward.
“The End.”