by mike Evans
The Stranger
The Uninvited Series Book II
By Mike Evans
Dedicated to my wife, children, I love you more than anything. To all my fans and supporters I would not have the energy to go at this pace without you.
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© 2016Mike Evans, All Rights Reserved
Aurora Dewater, Freelance Editor
Cover by Lisa Vasquez
Thanks to my beta readers Karen, Rosa, Leslie, Jon, & Ricky you guys are wonderful!
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Books by Mike Evans
The Orphans Series
The Orphans: Origins Vol I
Surviving the Turned Vol II (The Orphans Series)
Strangers Vol III (The Orphans Series)
White Lie Vol IV (The Orphans Series)
Civil War Vol V (The Orphans Series)
Zombies and Chainsaws
Zombies and Chainsaws 1
Dark Roads (Zombies and Chainsaws 2)
The Rising Series
Deal with the Devil Book 1
Gabriel Series
Gabriel: Only one gets out alive
Pitch Black (Gabriel Book 2)
Body Count (Gabriel Book 3)
The Uninvited Series
The Uninvited Book 1
The Stranger Book II of The Uninvited series coming soon
Buried: Broken oaths
Chapter 1
1970 - Hardin’s residence
Mary’s lip began quivering. “Paul, what are we going to do? He needs help; he needs to talk to someone. You know he is going to be marked for life if things like this get out. We don’t want that for him. There has to be something we can do. What do you think?”
Paul gave her a long hug, kissed her forehead, and then handed her a handkerchief. “I think you need to go inside and have a nice glass of wine. I’m going to take care of things from here on out. You know that stress isn’t good; it gives you wrinkles and gray hair.”
She laughed, wiping her face with it. “I don’t understand where we went wrong, Paul. What are we going to do with him? What if he decided to do something like that with a neighbor or just a human? What in the hell would we do, Paul?”
“He is just confused, love. Now, please go in and let me talk to him.”
Mary nodded slowly, heading back into the house. Her shoulders weren’t shaking as bad but still looked like they were convulsing slightly. When she disappeared into the kitchen, and he heard the pop of a wine bottle being uncorked, he knelt down in front of his son. “Mattey, buddy, we need to talk.”
“I’m not going to stop. I don’t care what you say, daddy.”
Paul took his son by the shoulders. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to him. “I can’t have you out killing innocent animals, son.”
“Because they feel pain?”
“Because I don’t need any attention coming towards the house or myself. How are you killing these animals?”
“I wrap my hands around their necks and squeeze until I no longer feel the pulse coming from under my hands. It makes me feel good, daddy. I don’t think I can stop. Why are you so worried about attention?”
“Because, Mattey, the people that I pick don’t have anyone who cares for them and there are never any witnesses. Do you know why it feels good or why you like it, son?”
Matt shook his head no, slowly, waiting for the answer to come. “Why, dad?”
“Because of something called genetics. Do you know what that is?”
He shook his head no, “What does it mean?”
“Well, it means that you inherited it. We never know what traits from a parent you are going to pick up. One day you might have a son or daughter of your own that likes to do this sort of thing.”
“Does that mean that you do this too, daddy? Is that what you meant by victims?”
Paul smiled, just barely, as a hint of evil spread across his lips. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean, son. We can’t bring curiosity to the house, or ourselves. Your mother doesn’t understand what it is that we do. She would think that we were freaks or monsters if she knew that we enjoyed this. You are scaring the hell out of her, and that isn’t good.”
“Can’t we just kill her, daddy? Maybe we could do it together.”
“No, mommy serves a purpose.”
“You don’t think you could cook, daddy?”
Paul actually laughed at this. “No, no, no. We don’t need her for food; it is much bigger than that. One day you are going to need to have the same cover. She adds something that you won’t understand for many, many years to come. Same as you, even if you don’t have the hunger that I do, the thirst to take life, having children makes me look even more normal.”
“Can you explain it for me, daddy? I want to know everything.”
“We have an entire lifetime to get to that point, son. You will know exactly what to do once the time comes. But until then I truly need you to do your best; if you are going to continue hurting animals you have to control the hunger. You have to use your willpower to keep it from happening where people can see you. If someone catches you…I wouldn’t want to think about what they would do to you. I love you too much, Mattey, so you can’t be sloppy, and if you don’t know what that means, then it means you aren’t old enough to be doing it. You are going to make mistakes and you are going to bring down the entire family; our secret legacy will come out, and you don’t want to ruin all of the fun that is part of being a Hardin.”
Matt released the animal pushing up from the ground. “I’m sorry, daddy, I’ll be better. I could take them down by the river. I can wash their blood off once the light in their eyes is no longer there. Is that okay, daddy, would that be okay?”
“Yes, Mattey, that is the right way to think, at the very least,”
Chapter 2
Night of Nick & Chuck’s visit
Matt lay in the truck‘s rear cab for a moment. The crash had made his gunshot wound worse. He knew that he was losing blood and would need some stitches but that a few inches to the left and he’ be having an entirely different set of worries. He looked around the back of the truck and saw a bag filled with what he was sure they had intended for him. He pulled out an axe, box cutter, rope, and a blessing to keep him from passing out, a roll of heavy-duty duct tape. He thought about Nick and his gun and hated himself for not thinking that he would have a pistol on him, especially given what it was they seemed to be coming to do.
He brought his hand away not seeing any slowing in the bleeding and took the roll of duct tape along with a box cutter. Matt began slicing through pieces of the duct tape making three inch pieces that he had every intention of layering up the side of his ribcage to keep as much of his blood where it belonged, on the inside.
He saw flashlights coming wiping his hands the best that he could, and taking a piece
of tape that went from his front around his ribs to his backside. He found his own pistol but could not find Nick’s handgun anywhere.
**
Harry sat in the camper drinking a cup of decaf, looking more annoyed at the cup than like he was enjoying the thing. They were one of only four campers left from the weekend. Most were back to their real life having to work on a Monday morning. Harry didn’t hate retirement and didn’t miss working, but he sure as hell knew he would need to learn how to retire at some point. He’d tried golf, giving it up the first time he went to the course and saw all of the old men in white pants and their god-awful shirts. He’d looked into working out, and realized that after a lifetime bent over cars his muscles didn’t work in the way that the gyms did.
His wife Mindy watched him, shaking her head. She laughed, “Good god, Harry, could you possibly look any more grumpy? If you don’t want to drink it, then toss it in the sink and get a glass of milk or water, or a zero calorie Pepsi.”
Harry snapped out of his funk and said, “What are you blabbering about, woman?”
“You’ve only been sitting there for ten minutes now and haven’t said one word. You aren’t even watching the show; you’re literally just sitting there mumbling under your breath. I don’t know why you drink that when you always look so upset when you’ve got it in front of you?”
Harry swirled around the black liquid in the cup. “You know why decaf sucks? Because it’s like paying a hooker that only wants to cuddle!”
“Oh, that is a lovely thought, dear, thank you for that. Your doctor was the one that said no more caffeine. He said it was up to you to enjoy retirement, eat healthy, and exercise, or you can retire and eat like a pig for a few more years and then—”
A set of headlights engulfed their camper. Harry leaned forward looking to see what it was. “Damn drivers, how hard is it to drive the speed limit through here? I mean really, it’s a gravel road and if they aren’t careful they are going to—”
He watched as the truck drove wildly, fishtailing just before going down in a ditch and flipping over as it came back up on the grass covered side. He pushed out of his recliner seeing the headlights looking more like a bat signal shooting into the sky. “Harry, do you want me to call the police?”
“Nah, we’ll make sure they got hurt first. If the guy is just out drinking and driving, I don’t want to get him in trouble. Besides, that little pay-by-the-month phone thing you got us isn’t worth a shit.”
“Well, let me grab my wrap and I’ll follow you out. They might need someone with a bit of compassion.”
“What the hell does that mean? I’ve got feelings.”
“Yeah, so does a Pit bull but I can only think of one emotion that I’ve ever seen from them. What if they are here to cause trouble?”
Harry was still watching the truck and no one was getting out of it. He walked, grabbing a flashlight and lifting his box by the door, and pulled out his pistol sliding it into a holster. “Well, I wouldn’t know what to do, honey, if they’re here with bad intentions.”
She saw his pistol and shook her head, “Okay, cowboy, you get thrown in the slammer for shooting some poor son of a bitch by accident and I’m going to leave you in there for a few days. It might be kind of nice to have some peace and quiet around here.”
He pushed the door open, shaking his head. “You’d miss me after ten minutes…probably, maybe not; you bail my ass out, woman!”
She laughed, pushing out of her own chair, and the two walked across the campsite flashlights in hand. They saw the curtains parted on two of the other four campers and doors opened slowly. Ricky yelled across from his. “Hey, you two, what happened?”
Harry pointed to the truck, “A truck crashed, Ricky, what in the hell does it look like, son?”
“Like a truck crashed.”
Mindy whispered, “I think there’s something off about him, honey.”
“I doubt there ever was anything right about him to start with.”
Ricky came out, running across the campground to catch up to them, not thinking about bringing a light of his own. “You two call the cops already?”
Mindy and Harry had a son who was on the force back home in Georgia said, “No, Ricky, we did not call the police. Harry and I figured that we’d see if they’re alright first, make sure they didn’t just tie one on when they decided it was a good idea to drive.”
“Wow, I wish cops…err, I mean, police officers were as forgiving as you; I wouldn’t be on the end of my second DUI charge.”
Harry, who didn’t put up with shit from his kids or those of others, said, “You know the easiest way to get out of one of those tickets, Ricky, my boy?”
“No shit, you got a secret for that?”
“Don’t drink and drive. Drinking and driving is for fucking idiots, you aren’t a fucking idiot now are you, Ricky?”
Ricky was going to say something when Mindy slapped Harry’s shoulder. “Harold Robert Smith, you will not use language like that. God forbid you show a little respect occasionally towards people. Are you too good to be respectful now that you are retired and seem to have inherited the knowledge of the Earth?”
Harry shut up; he knew Mindy well enough and if she was going to bring out Harold when addressing him, he knew damn well to just stay quiet. Ricky ran ahead, peering into the window. “I can’t see anything in there, dark as night.”
Harry looked to his wife, “It's past bedtime, pitch black out, and he seems amazed that it is not light out. I hope in his drunken stupors that he hasn’t knocked anyone up. I’d hate to think what his offspring would look like.”
Mindy twisted the light, giggling.
“What is funny about this?” Harry asked.
“Oh nothing, just that was what my daddy used to say about you before we got married.”
“Your father thought I was a saint, don’t make up stories.”
“Well, until he knew you had a job he sure as hell didn’t. Oh, that man thought you were going to be a freeloader.”
Harry was going to say something but when he saw his wife’s light on in the window he saw someone moving around inside of it. When he saw the angle the truck was sitting at he knew his old knees would not be taking him up there if he wanted to move the next day. “Ricky, here, take my light up there and help that fella out of that truck. Maybe you can help him climb out of there; I don’t have the knees to do it no more.”
Ricky held out his hands catching the light and climbing up slowly onto the truck. Ricky yelled, “Hey, you still alive in there? You didn’t go dying, did ya?”
Harry yelled, “They could be hurt, would ya hurry it up, Ricky?”
Ricky waved him off, pulling the door up slowly doing his best not to hit the glass and send the broken shards onto the occupants below. Ricky saw Chuck first and winced when he saw the pool of blood that he looked like he was floating in. Ricky said, “Well, you definitely don’t look like you’re still alive.”
He knelt down, taking a knee and looking into the rear of the cab. He saw what looked like a giant of a man hunched over. Ricky was thinking of his thin frame and that the chances of getting him out of there were slim to none. When the man began to move he felt relieved for a short moment. When the man turned around he saw the white mask with the black cross on it. Numerous shows began racing through his head that he had watched over the last few weeks. Ricky whispered, “Holy shit, are you the….the….fuck I don’t remember what they called you.”
The Stranger pushed up, testing his bandage and not feeling any further blood seeping through the open wound, he could only feel his wet shirt hitting against his bare skin. He felt out of character being so vulnerable, he looked up to the man and said, “They should call me the devil.”
Ricky tried to say something but it was too late.
**
Harry watched the boy and jumped back when Ricky’s body seemed to jolt out of nowhere. “You alright up there, Ricky, do you need any help?” Harry asked.
Ricky didn’t respond. He stood slowly turning around. It only took a moment to realize something was horribly wrong with him and just about the time he looked like he’d regained his balance Ricky took a header off the truck. The sound of his neck snapping echoed all the way over to Harry and Mindy.
Harry gave up caring about his knees the next day and sprinted up to the boy. “Ricky, Ricky? Jesus Christ would you talk to me, what the hell did you do? What did you do to yourself?”
He rolled Ricky over onto his back slowly, unsure what to do for him and screamed when he saw the hatchet sticking out of his face, and the blood pouring from the freshly split skull going down the middle of his face.
Harry backed up slowly, gasping for a breath to scream. He yelled to Mindy, “We need to get out of here, we need to leave now! There’s nothing but trouble inside that cab!”
Mindy was going to say something until she shone her light on Ricky. She saw the hatchet and knew she didn’t need to ask what had happened to him. The two elderly tried to run but didn’t have much speed. Harry stared intently at his truck thinking that they were fucked. He’d told her time and time again that it was best, even if they weren’t leaving the camper, that they should unhitch the truck. She had been adamant about how they never went anywhere once they set down their hitch and that it wouldn’t do anything but add work to what they had to do before moving onto their next spot in a few weeks. Harry could hear that speech running through his head right then and because of that he hadn’t done what his instincts had told him to do. “We can’t take the truck, what do you want to do now, Mindy?”
Mindy was thinking quicker than Harry was. “Did you spend all your money on that pistol on your side for nothing or are you going to shoot the windows out in there!”
