by Mark Tufo
Michael turned and stared at her. She was lovely, not a drop of perspiration on her. She’s doing it for my benefit, he thought. Without comment he followed her inside. Susan excused herself to the bathroom and Michael took the break to rush into his bedroom and change into clean clothes, stuffing his outfit into the washing machine.
By the time he came back into the living room, the air was cool and his friends were chatting about movies they hadn’t yet seen.
“I think the new Will Ferrell movie sounds funny,” Susan said.
“The one that came out this week? We should’ve watched that instead of the crap we saw last night.” Larry downed his beer and got up to get another one.
“Are you planning on drinking your day away?” Michael teased.
“I’m on vacation. I’m planning on drinking until I’m drunk, and then ordering some Mexican food and throwing up tonight. You?”
“Mexican sounds like fun. I’ll skip the beers, though, and stick to soda.” Michael slumped in his chair. Mexican food orders always consisted of the same things for him: six beef tacos, three chicken enchiladas and two pork quesadillas. Add a six-pack of Michelob and you had a meal. He wondered if anything healthy could be ordered from a Mexican menu and if it would taste like shit.
“There’s a great Mexican place near the library we order from. In fact, I have a menu in the car. Let me get it,” Becky said.
“You keep menus in the car?” Larry asked.
“Hey, you never know when you’ll need to order food on the ride home or when you’re out with some friends, right?”
“I love you,” Larry said and they all laughed.
“Maybe we can make plans to see the Will Ferrell movie sometime this week,” Susan said.
“We can watch it now,” Michael added.
Becky stopped at the door. “I don’t feel like going out tonight.”
“We don’t have to. Michael has a ton of pirated movies and I just finished downloading everything that came out Friday night.” Larry went to the computer.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Susan asked.
Larry stopped and stared at Susan. “My God, you’re right! I’m going to delete all of these files from Michael’s computer right now.”
“How about after we watch Will Ferrell?” Susan asked.
“Fair enough.” Larry turned to Becky. “Go get the menu. What are you waiting for? We need to eat again soon!”
“We just ate,” Michael said. His stomach was growling again and he clutched his soda can. “Will they deliver this far out?”
“Probably not,” Susan said as her mother left. “We’ll have to go pick the order up. You and I can go since the two drunks aren’t fit to drive. We’ll take Larry’s car.”
“I’m not drunk. But if you do, go pick up some more beer. I’m on vacation.”
“Will do.” Michael rose slowly, trying to be casual. “I need to get some water and lemon in town anyway.”
Becky came back in with a folder overflowing with various menus. She shuffled through a dozen before finding the right one. They began squabbling over what they would order.
“After the movie can you tell me about my grandpa and what happened?”
“Of course. As long as I’m not too drunk.” Becky decided on the three taco combo. “I also have a big file of newspaper clippings at the library you can look at. Why don’t you come by tomorrow and we can go through them together?”
“That will work,” Michael said.
“Excellent. Now I can get my feed on and my drink on.” Becky laughed.
Chapter Seventeen
Having Samantha and Alyssa over for a sleepover seemed safe, since her parents had stopped drinking by the time she returned from shopping. Mom was in great spirits, freshly showered, dressed and baking chocolate chip cookies when they arrived home.
"Mom, no big deal, but do you think the twins can sleep over tonight?"
Her mom nearly exploded with excitement. "Of course! I'll make more cookies, and tonight I'm going to make my world-famous shrimp tacos."
"Yum.” Trisha peeked around the corner. "Where's dad?'
"He's watching the baseball game. Run him something to drink for me so I can take out the cookies."
When Trisha stared at her mom, her mom smiled. "I just made sweet tea. Make him a big cup and tell him the cookies are just about done."
"Thanks." Trisha relaxed. She turned to her friends. "I'll be right up."
Her mom stopped them and handed them bags of potato chips and pretzels. "Take some snacks, ladies. Sweet tea is in the fridge if you get thirsty."
"We'll be quiet. Thanks, mom." Trisha kissed her on the cheek.
"Dinner won't be for a couple of hours but you probably ate a late lunch. I'll heat up some tortilla chips and melt some cheese."
Trisha watched as her mom flittered around the kitchen, humming and cooking. "I love you," she said.
Her mom smiled at her and winked. "Oh, I love you too, honey." She pulled the sweet tea from the refrigerator. "Pour some for your dad."
"Your mom is the coolest," Alyssa said when they were in Trisha's room. "You're so lucky."
Trisha ignored her friend and turned on her radio. She was happy her parents were acting like normal people, but she realized Friday was coming again, and with it another long weekend of babysitting them. She hated that part of her life, and felt like a liar when her friends only saw this side of mom and dad.
Alyssa waved a hand in front of Trisha's face. "Are you still in there?"
"Huh?"
The twins laughed. "We've been talking to you and you're staring into space."
"Sorry." Trisha smiled. "What's the question?"
"Alyssa asked you about you and Jim."
Trisha frowned. She didn't want to talk about him or deal with him tonight. "I'm staying away from him."
"Was he that bad? Jim and the other guys can be idiots, but they’re harmless."
Trisha shook her head. "Normally, I would agree. Jim is like a child most of the time, self-destructive and seeing how far he can push the envelope. He's got some problems at home, but yesterday… he was really over the top. He scared me. I think the tool shed will be off-limits for the rest of the summer."
Samantha sat down next to her on the bed. "I think I'll join you in sitting this one out. Hanging out there is so boring, we never do anything, the whole place smells, and all the guys do is smoke pot."
Alyssa began dancing as a new song came on the radio. "Well, I'm going."
"Why?" her sister asked.
"I think Butch is kinda cute."
"What?" Trisha shrieked. "You and Butch? I thought you hated him."
"Nah. Why, do you think he likes me?"
Samantha grinned and pointed at Trisha.
When Trisha spotted the move, she waved her hands. "I don't want anything to do with any of them. He's all yours, Alyssa. Good luck."
"You sure? He was trying to put the moves on you the other night."
"You can have him." Trisha decided she wanted nothing more to do with the tool shed, the boys, or anything associated with it. She wanted to coast the rest of the summer, relax, and prepare for senior year.
"Honey, can you and your friends come down here?"
The three girls went downstairs, into the living room. The TV was off, Trisha's dad was standing with his hands on his hips, and a police officer stood in the hallway.
Her mom looked worried.
"What's wrong?"
The police officer turned to the three girls and motioned for them to sit on the couch. "Three of your friends didn't come home last night."
"Who?" Samantha asked.
At the mention of Jim, Gary and Butch all three welled up with tears.
“Jim was here yesterday morning; he was acting weird, and wanted me to go with him to the tool shed." As Trisha uttered the words, she knew she'd opened up a can of worms.
"What tool shed?" her dad asked, anger in his words.
"
I'm sorry. We've been hanging out on the Zaun Farm."
"You've got to be kidding me. Didn't I warn you about going anywhere near that place? Do you remember what happened to those two girls?"
The police officer stepped between everyone. "Look, obviously your daughter knows something here. Sir, I understand you're upset, but I’ve got three young boys missing right now. Time is of the essence."
Her dad threw up his hands and began pacing the living room.
"How often do you hang out there?" the officer asked.
"Pretty much every night. But last night we went to the movies and hung out all day today, but didn't see the boys."
The police officer pulled out his radio and gave dispatch the information about the tool shed on the Zaun Farm property. "Anything else you can remember?"
Trisha began crying. "No." She turned to her parents. "I am so sorry."
Her dad shook his head. "I am so disappointed in you. Ladies, I think you need to return home. I'll call your parents and let them know what's going on."
Chapter Eighteen
Dir of the Earth sensed a presence nearby as he rose, the body heavy and drained. Darkness wrapped him in its embrace, but he felt no other sensations. This body was too weak and he shut down basic needs, leaving just enough function to keep breathing and moving.
He stood and peered through the small oval window of the barn loft. Police cruisers littered the area, lights strobing across the yard, while men and women churned up the dirt moving back and forth to the tool shed.
He caught a glimpse of the body on the gurney, draped in a white cloth. Like the two females had been, after he'd taken over the old man and gutted them in the tool shed, dripping their blood through the cracks in the wooden floor. He thought that had given him power. Now he realized his only hope of power lie in inhabiting a strong host, and moving forward with his plans before another, stronger one, drove him back into the ground and his prison.
He needed Trisha more than ever. It would only be a matter of time before they began a methodical search for Jim Rutan. The boy's fingerprints marked everything, and once the other boy and the woman were found in the house, more humans would be called in to stop him.
Dir climbed down and slipped quietly out the front of the barn, careful not to be seen. In his weakened state he couldn't outrun anyone, nor influence them enough to not be seen. His powers were ineffective. He thought once again about crushing Jim's body when he finished, but the thought of the boy spending his days shackled in an institution amused him. He decided he'd go visit the boy from time to time, perhaps taking over one of his nurses or doctors and tormenting him.
The relative of the old man, Benjamin Zaun, appeared in the yard and Dir recoiled like he'd been slapped. This one had so much untapped power. If he learned how to use it his ability, all would be lost.
His only option now was to get to Trisha's house and bend her to his will, before he collapsed and his force drew back into his prison.
* * * * *
Michael and Larry had just sat down to watch a movie when the police car lights lit up the living room. They rushed to the front door and out on the porch.
"What the Hell?" Michael said as a line of police cars, ambulances and other vehicles converged in front of the house and down the yard.
A police officer walked up to the two and didn't bother smiling. "Are you the owner?"
Michael nodded. "Is there a problem?"
The officer pointed at the cars as most kept moving. "We found a body in the tool shed."
"Holy shit."
Larry sat down on a rocking chair on the porch. "Who is it?"
The officer stared at him for a long moment. "We'll need you two to stay here in sight. A detective will be with you shortly to take your statements."
"Statements? What is he talking about?" Michael sat down as well. "Should I call Susan?"
"Is she a lawyer?"
Michael couldn’t help but grin. "Maybe she'll bring her mommy over. Seems like someone is smitten with the cougar."
Larry glanced away. "Dick."
"And no denial. Cool."
"Call them," Larry finally said as the cars stopped driving past.
"Them? I knew it. Is this because you're in need of a mother-figure in your life?" Michael asked.
"Fuck off."
Before Michael could hit his speed-dial and call Susan, (her number being the first and only preset on the phone) an unmarked police car pulled up with a flashing red light on the dashboard and a large man in a suit pushed out of the car.
He stared at the two as he approached. His intense scrutiny and severe crew-cut gave off an ex-military vibe. He’d managed to keep his suit and tie neat even in the heat.
"Which one of you is the owner?"
Michael slowly raised his hand.
"I'm Detective Stone. I'm lead on the case here from last month. I need to ask you a few questions." He glanced at Larry. "And your friend as well."
Michael didn't like the look he gave to Larry, but wasn’t sure why. The cop radiated condescension as he stood over them and put his hands in his jacket pockets.
"How long have you been here?"
"A few days. My grandfather was Benjamin Zaun."
Stone nodded. "I knew your grandfather. He was a good man, a hard worker, and I considered him a friend."
"I didn't know too much about him."
"He talked about you, Michael. About the times you came to the farm as a kid and your father growing up here." The detective leaned against the house. "I found him."
"No one will tell me what happened. I was in New York working, and then Bam! My grandfather’s dead, and I’ve inherited the deed and land."
Detective Stone pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wiped his face, even though he didn't appear to be sweating. "We're still trying to figure out what happened. Your grandfather changed and things happened suddenly. One day he was sitting next to me at the diner having a cup of coffee, and the next he’s out here digging holes and burying bodies."
Michael had been putting off reading about his grandfather in the local newspaper, or asking too many questions. He was afraid of what he'd find; he didn’t want to tarnish the image he had of his grandfather.
"I need someone to tell me what happened," Michael finally said.
"Once I figure out what is going on right here and right now, you and I can talk." The detective shifted on his feet. "I need you to tell me your movements the last couple of days."
"We're not even sure what's going on," Larry said.
"We found a body in your tool shed. Again."
Michael closed his eyes. What was going on? Was the Zaun Farm cursed?
"Is it a copycat thing like you see on TV?" Larry asked.
"We're not sure. Seems like it happened recently, and we're already pulling plenty of fingerprints. Have either of you been in the tool shed?"
Michael thought about it. "I have. I took some shovels out."
The detective raised an eyebrow.
Larry rose up in his chair. "We buried the cows."
"What happened to the cows?"
"They exploded. I mean, they were killed or starved … I'm not sure. When I got here they were dead. I had to clean them up."
"I'll need to take a gander at where they’re buried."
"Sure," Michael said.
"Now."
"Let me get a flashlight."
"I have three in the trunk," the detective said.
"You should probably call Susan," Larry said as they started following the detective.
Detective Stone opened the trunk and looked at them quizzically. "Are you talking about Susan Watson?"
Michael nodded. "You know her?"
Detective Stone glanced once again at Larry and openly frowned. "I'm good friends with her mother."
Chapter Nineteen
Dir stood outside Trisha's house and wondered which upstairs bedroom was hers. He cycled through Jim's weak thoughts but of cou
rse the boy had never been inside her house, although at one point he'd bragged to some friends he'd had intercourse with her. Not even close.
Two lights shone from what he assumed were bedrooms. The downstairs was lit up as well, and he decided to take a look. In the living room her dad, slumped in a chair while watching a sporting event. He glanced over his shoulder before slipping a small bottle of some alcoholic beverage from the chair cushion and adding a healthy dash to his cup of soda, or juice, or perhaps tea. The type of beverage didn't matter; here was a man who used to have a sharp mind and focus, reduced to alcoholism and illegally selling equipment from his job. Sad.
The mother stood in the kitchen. Dir went around and watched her. She was another tragic figure. In years past he could tell she had power, and wielded it with authority. Now she spent her days, forgotten, in a school system waiting for her to retire. Her superiors recognized she had a problem, but as long as she tossed sexual favors their way, they would turn a blind eye to the ever increasing amount of days she showed up drunk to work.
Trisha must be upstairs. Already police roamed the streets looking for him and the two dead boys. He'd dodged three patrols the few blocks here, and was certain, before long, reinforcements from the neighboring towns, and possibly the FBI, would be called in. Dir knew all these murders, especially coming on the heels of the death of the old man believed to have been the killer, would open the case again. It was merely an annoyance and nothing more, but he needed to get out of this body before forced out. He didn't think he had much time left.
A simple plan formed in the head of Jim Rutan, and Dir laughed. If his plot went well, Jim would finally be close to Trisha. Of course, he wouldn't be inside of her, but Dir would tell him all about it before his mind exploded in madness.
He put on Jim’s sad face and knocked on the door.
* * * * *
Michael and Larry sat on the porch, getting attacked by mosquitoes, as Becky and the detective stood near his car and shared a laugh.
Susan came outside carrying a pitcher of sweet tea and a box of Oreo cookies.
"Is this going to take all night?" Larry asked.
"Nah." Michael smiled. "Eventually the two of them will drive off to a motel and leave you here."
