A rabid boar.
The Grim Reaper.
Aliens.
Paranormal prowler.
George.
One constant theme was borne out from the stories. Whatever IT was, he or she worked alone. All the reports only talked about one beast.
People had hoped there would never be any new stories about George Houlihan. If there were more secrets to be told, the whispers had already started.
Chapter 4
Mike
MIKE’S FEMALE GUEST finally left his apartment, and he climbed down from the pine tree. He glanced around, expecting to see Alayna, and went back inside. He couldn’t get his mind off one thing.
Immediately, he trekked to the wastebasket in his room and pulled the packet of papers out. He tried his best to wipe off the drying vomit and flatten out the papers, then laid the pages out on his black dresser.
They might as well have been written in a different language. Mike had never been a spelling bee champion, or even paid attention in English class, for that matter.
He struggled as he went through the packet until he got to a page about holistic treatments. The doctor had known that Mike didn’t have any insurance so he gave him a few alternatives for treatment. Mike looked down at the bottom of the page.
Initial Down Payment: $3750.
Mike didn’t know what the word initial meant but he knew he needed about four grand just to get in the door of the holistic healing center. Crumpling the papers back up, he threw them at the wastebasket. He missed, and the uneven ball rolled to the side and joined the mess on his floor.
Back in the kitchen, Mike rolled a joint on the counter. Mike twisted up both ends and tucked it behind his ear. He gathered an old gray and black radio from the 70s, two rods leaning against the corner of the wall and the fish scaler from next to the sink.
Hands full, Mike kicked the entrance to his house open, then walked into the sunny day. Using his shoulder, he slammed the door closed.
Mike walked into the woods next to his house and peeked over his right shoulder. A black and white car with blue and red lights on top drifted up to the end of his road. Mike ducked behind some brush.
An officer got out of the passenger side and walked up to Mike’s door.
Mike decided he had seen enough so he walked deeper into the woods. He gradually moved downhill toward the rushing sounds of the Tanzano River that hummed in the humid afternoon air.
Mike walked down one last hill and set his rods and radio down at his favorite fishing spot. This was one of the few spots of the Tanzano where you could eat the fish you caught. The muddy riverbank extended out about ten feet before merging into a steep incline of patchy wild grass. He and Kyle kept some supplies under a small blue tarp in the high grass.
Mike knelt at the base of the hill and started digging for worms. He pulled the clear green lighter out of his pocket, grabbed the joint from behind his ear. Then he used his yellow teeth to bite off one edge and untwisted the other side before firing it up.
He almost lit his eyebrows up before moving the flaming joint away from his face. He blew out the lingering flame and took a few more hits. His phone buzzed in his left pocket, and he snatched it out. It was a third call from the Prince Mountain Police.
A voice came from the top of the hill, “Whoa, there, Cheech. What time is it?”
Mike responded, “It’s I-don’t-give-a-shit o’clock. The best time of all.”
His best friend Kyle moved sideways down the hill, and picked up a little too much speed as he got to the bottom and almost ran into the river. He turned around and threw a roll of foil next to the black rectangular radio.
“Fire up the Bucco game,” Mike suggested.
Kyle grabbed the foil and ripped off a small piece. “Hells yeah.” He worked the radio dial with the index finger of his right hand, applying the foil to the antenna and moving it around with his left.
Mike tried to help him out. “No, back a little. Move the foil down and bend the tip of the antenna. That worked last time.”
Kyle finally zoned in, and they could hear the announcers over a slight buzz of static in the background.
“Bingo, bitches,” Kyle said, and pretended to spike a football with his right arm. He was a mammoth of a man, with shaggy black hair and acne on his cheeks and forehead. He flexed his right arm and pointed his chin up, exposing the ‘hot dog roll’ on the back of his neck.
“So why are the cops blowin’ me up?”
Kyle’s jaw widened. “You ain’t remember what went down last night?”
Mike handed Kyle his rod and set down a Styrofoam cup with dirt and worms in it. Kyle put the bait on his hook first, and Mike followed.
As Mike cast into the relatively calm river, he said, “I don’t remember much. I woke up next to a big girl, though. I didn’t remember that.”
“Come on, Ace, you can’t be serious. You were all over that girl at the bar and at the party. But that’s not the important stuff. It’s the stuff about Gary that we need to figure out.”
The still water rippled around Mike’s line, but his rod remained still. “Oh, are you talking about tipping over those gravestones? I do have a hazy memory of that.”
Kyle shook his head. “No, asshole, I’m talking about when we went to Houlihan’s Circle.”
Mike closed one eye in confusion. “Why the hell would we do that?”
Kyle explained, “It was you and Gary, man. You kept chirping about how you didn’t give a shit if you died, and life was bullshit or something, and Gary suggested we go to the graveyard. I just went along so you two pansies wouldn’t do nothin’ stupid.”
Mike smirked. “Yeah right. You just didn’t want to be called a sissy. I know you. You don’t care nothin’ about us.”
“You should be saying thank you. Anyway, that wasn’t enough for you two maniacs, and Gary dared you to go to Houlihan’s Circle. You remember any of this?”
Mike scratched his shaved blond hair and squinted. “Not ringing a bell yet.”
“You dumbass. We got separated from Gary, and then that roar what sounded like a 350 engine rumblin’ scared the shit out of you. I swear I heard Gary screamin’ like a girl. I know I did. And then, that thing. I mean, I never believed in that bullshit about George, but I don’t know now.”
Now it was ringing a bell. “That’s what those visions were. Shit, I do remember that ugly, hairy face with blood smeared all over it. The moon lit it up like a spotlight. Shit.”
Kyle cast out into the middle of the river. “Shit is right, man. That smell, too. I can’t get that smell outta my nose. I’d rather smell your nasty beer farts right now.”
Mike’s memories started to kick in. “I don’t remember the smell. I remember looking back when we were driving away in your truck and George was standing under that streetlight.”
“Wait. So you believe in that shit?”
Mike wasn’t sure what to believe. “We’ve all heard all the stories. Probably seen all the movies, too. That shit was like they said.”
Kyle disagreed. “Man, it’s prolly just some nitwit in a ghillie suit that’s gone crazy. I ain’t trying to believe that this thing is like two hundred years old or whatever.”
“So you think different people pop up over the years to kill in the same exact way and they all look the same?”
“Look man, I don’t know what I believe right now. I know I wasn’t scared last night, but that shit was really weird. I really don’t need this right now, with the kid, and my girl is all over my case. I should be playing in the NFL right now.”
Mike agreed with Kyle. He had been the best offensive lineman in school history, and had secured a scholarship to one of the top college football programs. Their high school coach had claimed that Kyle was a shoe-in for the National Football League.
Unfortunately, Kyle tore several major ligaments in his knee in his final high school game and the doctors said he would never return to full strength in that knee.
; Kyle got a bite and stood up awkwardly, favoring his injured leg. He waited for a few more nibbles and yanked back on the rod. Hooking the fish, he started to reel it in.
Mike asked, “What are we gonna tell the cops?”
Kyle pulled the hook out of the mouth of the eight-inch walleye and threw the fish into an old, red and white cooler.
Mike turned down the radio. “What are we gonna tell the cops?”
“I don’t know. We know we didn’t kill him.”
That statement was like a sobering slap of lightning for Mike. “Gary’s dead?”
Kyle shook his head. “Are you fuckin’ serious, man? Why did you think the cops were looking for us?”
“I thought it was about vandalizin’ the gravestones.”
Kyle grabbed another worm from the white cup. “They might be worried about that, but prolly more worried about the murder. What did you think, that beast was just tickling Gary?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember shit from last night.”
Kyle replied, “It’s ‘cause of that weed. That stuff’s turning your brain to mush, man.”
“It’s the only thing that takes the pain away.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow. “What pain?”
“Nothing. Forget about it.” Mike reeled in and cast out again in a different spot. “So what should we say?”
“I don’t know. We were at that party for a while before they said Gary’s body was found on Thurston Street, all tore up like the rest of George’s victims.”
“So you do believe that shit, too?”
Kyle started getting frantic. “I told you I don’t know what to think right now. Here’s what we say.” He set his pole down. “We say we went into Houlihan’s Circle as a dare and...and Gary just disappeared. We say that we thought he was only messin’ around, tryin’ to scare us and shit. So we just left and we ain’t know what happened to him.”
Mike nodded in agreement. “Smart.”
Kyle picked up his fishing rod. “Yeah. It ain’t like we done nothin’ anyway but we shouldn’t mention that we seen that thing. Just say he disappeared and we left after callin’ for him for a while.”
“OK. We went into the Circle and Gary ran off or something. That’s easy. Do you think he’s going to come after us?”
Kyle lowered his brow and looked at Mike with unsure eyes. “Do I think Gary is going to come after us?”
“Nah, I’m sayin’ do you think George is going to come after us for being on his territory?”
Kyle peered out over the calm waters shimmering from the shining sun rays. “I ain’t scared of nobody, whether they’re alive or dead, so it don’t matter to me.”
“Ooohhh, you hear that? Oh yeah, home run.” Mike turned up the volume on the radio as the announcer was going crazy describing the action.
He turned to Kyle and held out a closed fist that his friend pounded. Mike lied, “Yeah, I ain’t scared of none a that shit neither.”
Kyle smirked, and asked, “So how was that big girl from last night?”
Mike cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Don’t remember nothin’ from that neither. But I do remember picking up some cash from her purse and a credit card. We need to drive a few towns over and find a convenience store that we can use this sucker at.”
“Aw yeah, I’m hungry as hell right now. Wouldn’t mind a big gulp either.”
Mike suggested, “We might as well leave all our shit here and just come back. We don’t even got to put it in your truck. Ain’t nobody comin’ down here. It don’t look like she’s gonna rain today so the radio should be alright under the tarp.”
They scaled the steep hill and jumped into Kyle’s 1984 Ford F150 replete with dents and random rust stains all over the body. The motor took a few seconds to catch, and Kyle pressed the gas as the engine hummed.
Kyle cut off a small compact car to get on the highway onramp. They drove to Halimax and found a store with a clerk they had never seen before. Kyle parked down the street, and they walked past the front several times to inspect the joint. Satisfied, the two ragged-looking young men entered the store.
Mike grabbed a fistful of Slim Jims and set them on the counter next to the register.
He looked at the forty-something balding man behind the counter. “We’re gonna get a bunch of stuff so I’m just going to leave this here.”
The overweight man scrunched the contours of his face as he inspected Mike and finally nodded his head in silence. Mike and Kyle went on a shopping spree, scooping up anything their hands could touch.
The entire four-foot by two-foot counter was filled with potato chips, candy, energy drinks, dried meat snacks, chewing tobacco and other miscellaneous items that had caught either man’s eye. Mike planned on getting a pile of scratch off lottery tickets too.
The clerk waded through the huge pile on the counter, not scanning anything.
“How ya’ll plan on payin’?” he asked.
Mike’s shaky hand reached into his pocket and plucked out the blue credit card. He held it up, and the clerk snatched it from his hand. He studied the card, then both young men, and repeated the process several times.
“We got us a problem here,” said the clerk with a blank name tag. Mike’s knees threatened to give out as the man continued. “So which one a ya is Lauren?”
Mike stuttered as he talked. “Oh, no, it, uh, it’s my friend who said that we could use her card. This stuff is actually for her. We just...we we’re sent to get it.”
The man squinted his eyes and looked at the card again. “Lemme jus’ call this in and make sure she isn’t reported stolen.” The clerk turned around and picked up the corded phone receiver.
Mike turned to Kyle. “Run.”
The two guys booked out of the store, ran down the street to the truck and jumped in. Mike started tapping his foot on the ground uncontrollably as the truck didn’t start on the first few attempts. A nervous glaze of sweat built up on his back as the truck finally fired up.
An icy tidal wave of relief washed over Mike’s sizzling epidermis as Kyle peeled out. They jumped on the highway to get back to Prince’s Mountain. Once back in their home town, Mike started to feel safe again.
Mike said, “I guess we’re gonna have to catch some fish to get any supper tonight. I got a little cash but I’m gonna spend it on drinks and weed, not food.”
“Them Slim Jims woulda been nice. If you wanna eat tonight, you better catch something. I’m not giving you all my action.”
Mike chuckled. “Hell, you woulda starved by now if I didn’t feed you with all the fish I done caught over the past month. You’d be dead right now.”
Kyle retorted, “The hell I would, skinny boy. Wonder what’s going on in that Bucco game.” Kyle started to adjust the radio dial until something caught his attention. Flashing blue and red lights appeared behind them as a squad car raced up to the back bumper of the truck.
Mike said, “Alright, let’s keep our stories straight, and I hope they don’t know about that credit card or the graveyard. That clerk couldn’t have known us.”
Kyle’s turned his reddened face to Mike. “Don’t get nervous. You’ve talked to the cops before. Don’t blow it for me. We went into the woods and got separated from Gary. That’s it.”
An officer got out of the passenger’s side and walked up to Kyle’s window.
Chapter 5
Emily
EMILY TOOK ANOTHER swig of the energy drink and looked at the ringing phone. Her finger hovered over the device before reluctantly hitting the Accept button.
“Hello.”
A scratchy, hoarse voice came through the line. “It’s me. I’ll be at your house in a few minutes so we can talk about the directions.”
She panicked. “Wait. Who is this?”
“Tucker McSeamus. I’ll explain everything when I get there. And don’t worry, I’ll bring the advance we talked about. See you soon.”
She didn’t get a chance to even say goodbye befor
e the mysterious person hung up the phone. Her tense hand dented the can as she set the phone down. Out of options, she began pacing in the front room of her house.
Drained of energy, Emily went over to her green couch and lay down on her back, still clutching her drink in one hand. She closed her dark, bedroom eyes and tried to remember that night at the tarot card reader’s house. What could she remember?
The tarot card reader had seen that she was having financial trouble immediately.
He had said he could help Emily with her situation.
He had said that he would show her the money in his basement.
He had given her that green drink and held his finger under the bottom of the cup until she’d finished it.
Her head had been getting extremely hazy as they went down the steps.
She had seen wild images like when she used to eat magic mushrooms.
What the hell was in that green liquid?
The dimly lit basement had smelled like rotten meat.
She had covered her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt to avoid throwing up.
There had been that rumble, more like a growl.
It had kept building and building until that thing sprang into the room.
It had knocked the only lamp in the room to the floor as it thrashed around.
The man had told her repeatedly not to worry about the beast.
The man had produced that duffle bag full of money...at least it had looked like real money.
The room had been dark, but it looked like the face from the movies.
That bloody face.
The hair.
The sounds.
The smells.
They had all matched up with the reports from the past.
It had to be George.
Right?
No. George wasn’t real. Emily wouldn’t let her warped, sleepless mind believe it. She couldn’t remember making a deal for the money. What had she agreed to? She couldn’t put together why a murderous beast would have been in the basement of a tarot card reader. It just didn’t make sense.
As she sat up, Emily spilled some of her drink on the cushions. She had forgotten about the energy drink in her hand. Sitting up, she opened her eyes and gulped down the rest of the can, but still couldn’t remember what kind of deal she had made.
Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series: Books 1-3 Page 43
