Day of the Sasquatch
Page 12
He reached the door to the kitchen, crying and dragging Scott in tow. He steeled himself, refusing to turn to see what was chasing them or what had befallen his father as he flung Scott in front of him and sent his brother sprawling onto the kitchen tile. He stepped inside, jerking the door tight behind him. Only then, did he allow himself to turn enough to lock the door and brace his shoulder against it. Instinct took over as a fist burst through the thick wood of the door, splintering it and sending shards flying. Jeff threw himself backwards, barely avoiding the huge, groping, hair covered hand as it reached for him. His backside erupted with pain as he hit the floor. He heard Scott yelling, but his brother’s voice sounded distant as if it came from another world. The hand withdrew itself, tearing the door from its hinges in the process. Jeff caught a glimpse of something enormous and covered in brown, blood-matted hair before he rolled onto the living carpet. Scrambling to his feet, he was on the run again, heading for the stairs that led up to the second floor. His dad’s bedroom was an arsenal, but the thought of the weapons stored there didn’t even cross his mind. Jeff’s only thought was to hide. Hide and pray the monster went away. He hit the stairs, leaping up them two or three at a time with each fear-induced bound, half crawling and clawing his way to their top. The house was full of noise. Screams, breaking wood, creaking floors, then came the roar shaking the walls. Jeff whirled his head around, suddenly realizing that Scott wasn’t with him. His face and forehead smashed into the stair’s guardrail and then there was only blackness. When he awoke, the night was silent and still. His nose felt…wrong. It hurt like the blazes. His trembling hand found the swollen lump on his forehead and withdrew itself as fresh waves of pain poured over him. The house’s lights were out and the air smelled of blood, death, and other feral things. Heart pounding in his chest, he lay there in the darkness, listening.
Questions which longed for answers ran through his mind. Where were his dad and Scott? Was the monster gone or was it still down there in the shadows somewhere waiting? After what seemed like an eternity, Jeff hauled himself to his feet, using the railing to keep his balance. Not willing to risk venturing down the stairs, he made for his father’s bedroom. He felt around in the pitch black of the night until his hands found one of his dad’s shotguns. He checked the weapon, making sure it was loaded by pumping a fresh round into its chamber, and sat on the edge of his father’s bed as a gentle rain began to fall outside the house from the clouds the evening breeze had blown in. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he prayed for help to come and the nightmare to end.
That horrible night was fifteen years in the past now but it still haunted Jeff Taylor. He fiddled with the car’s radio trying to find some music he liked to help drive the memories away. Finally, he settled on a station that was playing “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC. The song was certainly appropriate. He nodded his head along with the beat of the song. This was going to be his first time back on the streets of Babble Creek, North Carolina, since his father and brother’s funeral all those long years ago.
He reminded himself he wasn’t a frightened, nerdy little boy anymore. Two tours of active duty in the army had made him into a man his father would have accepted and been proud of. This time, he was going to be the hunter and the monster of his nightmares was going to pay for what it did to his family.
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