by R. J. Wolf
“I wouldn’t suspect there would be anymore, at least not any signs admitting it.” Mr. Clark smiled. “But you do know this place, yes?”
Nickie nodded.
“And you could show us how to get there?”
“Of course we’ve gone every summer except the last few years.”
“I’m sure there’s at least one very good reason for that. I was hoping they’d be so careless. They went very far to try and cover up their mistakes, but not far enough.”
Mr. Clark’s face lit up like he’d just put the last piece together in a massive puzzle. He looked towards Mikey and smiled. He’d done more than he could ever imagine. Mikey smiled back at Mr. Clark as he stood up leaning on Mit for support.
Suddenly, the door bell rung and everyone froze. Mit slowly looked to Mr. Clark who had gone white as a ghost. He looked back at Mit and then to Nickie.
“Get downstairs now!” He urgently whispered. “Nickie, guard that paper with your life and take this.” He handed her the medical kit.
“Mr. Clark what about you?” Mit looked back as he helped Mikey to the door.
“I’ll take care of this just stay quiet.” Mr. Clark demanded, ushering them all to the small wooden door awkwardly set in the wallpaper.
Quickly, but silently, they tip toed down the stairs as Mr. Clark closed to door behind them. The doorbell rang again, the low whining chime echoed through the house. Mr. Clark swallowed and took a deep breath.
“I’m coming.” He shouted with agitation.
As he approached the door he could see Mr. Dimair’s outline through the window. He slowly opened the door and put on his best impression of a pleasant face.
“Mr. Dimair. So good to see you, we really don’t do this quite often enough.” Mr. Clark smiled.
“Fullerton, always the optimist aren’t you? I highly doubt our encounters have been pleasant and I can assure you, that if you lie to me, this one will not be.” Mr. Dimair sneered, tapping his shoe on the wooden deck.
Fullerton stared back at him, his stern face riddled with defiance. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest and standing to his full height. Clearing his throat he opened the door a little wider.
“How can I help you today?”
“Yes, yes that is the matter, how can you help me. To be honest I’d like to think you can. It’d be a shame for you to go the way of your father. His death wasn’t pretty, as I’m sure you know. Accidental passing does have its draw backs. I hear you kept a souvenir though. I always think it best when families don’t lose their heads in a tragedy.”
Fullerton tried to hide his rage. He gritted his teeth and forced a smile on his face.
“I will not pretend that I like you Marcus, but I will not suffer your insults either.”
“Well that is good, what fun would it be if you didn’t put up a fight. I know you have that little prat in there. Send him out and I’ll change my mind about your premature passing.”
Mr. Dimair edged forward, sticking his foot in between the door. He grinned, exposing row upon row of needle like teeth. Mr. Clark backed away in shock. He reached into a small table tucked in the corner and pulled out a round glass bottle. Using his thumb he uncorked it and threw it at the deck in front of him.
It hit the ground and shattered, the liquid turned to a red gas upon impact. Mr. Dimair staggered backwards and threw his hand over his mouth.
“Zaspar!” He shouted.
Walking backwards, he stepped off the porch into the grass. His face had exploded in boils, the skin falling off in chunks.
“So the old man knew more than we thought.” Mr. Dimair choked. “How long do you think this will last you fool?”
“Long enough!” Mr. Clark spat as he slammed the door.
He whipped around and ran into the house calling for Mit and the others. Steve darted up the stairs, almost taking the door off the hinges.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes, but we haven’t much time. Get the bag and the others and meet me in the kitchen.”
Mr. Cark turned and ran off into the dark. He made his way to the only room on the first floor and grabbed a case from the closet. When he returned to the kitchen everyone gathered around looking nervous.
Mr. Clark opened the case and took out a folded up piece of parchment. He handed it to Mit with a worried look on his face.
“You guys need to get to the location marked on this map. They’ll be after you. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”
“I…I don’t understand Mr. Clark.” Nickie was the first to speak.
“You have to come with us, we can just leave now.” Mit pleaded.
“You don’t understand. They are not going to let us leave. Right now they are probably on the way here. The only chance we have is if I hold them off as long as I can.”
Mit made to object again, but Mr. Clark held his hand up silencing him.
“Look this is not a debate. Everything we need to find Anthony is in that bag. Take Steve’s car and follow that map. I’ll meet you there later.”
Mr. Clark was kind, but stern. Without another word, he turned and headed out of the kitchen. He pulled the drawer next to the front door open and dumped it onto the floor. Bottles of the same red liquid he used before rolled out.
Suddenly there was a loud shriek and all the windows exploded. Shards of glass flew like missiles, embedding themselves into the walls. Mr. Clark dropped to the ground covering his ears.
The sound of steps pounding outside echoed across the wood. Before Mr. Clark could move, the front door blew open and Mr. Dimair, followed by several other men piled onto the porch. They were all dressed casually, but the sinister look in their eyes gave away their true intentions.
Scrambling, Mr. Clark swiped at a bottle and lugged it towards the door. It hit the frame then fell to the ground and rolled, coming to a stop at Mr. Dimair’s feet.
“Fullerton! I think I’ll take this as a souvenir, along with your head.” Mr. Dimair heckled as he bent down and picked up the bottle.
Take this too!” Nickie yelled as she rounded the corner from the kitchen. In her hand she held a bottle shimmering with red liquid. She threw it as hard as she could and it hit the ground at Mr. Dimair’s feet.
It burst on impact, sending a red mist like spray all over his face before fuming and turning into a thick red gas. Mr. Dimair scampered backwards as the other men dove to avoid the deathly fumes. He moaned and covered his face. Pools of skin dripped down his hands puddling onto the deck.
“Run now!” Mr. Clark screamed.
Nickie turned on her heels and dashed back towards the kitchen. Steve snatched the bag from the floor and pushed everyone towards the back door.
“Let’s go!” He yelped grabbing the door handle.
As he turned the knob, the door was suddenly blown off the hinges, sending him flying backwards into the wall. Mit ducked the shards of broken wood that peppered the kitchen as Nickie and Mikey collapsed to the floor.
Steve groaned and grabbed his shoulder in pain. He scanned the demolished kitchen in awe. The door and the surrounding wall was now a gaping hole. A long, winding crack ran the length floor and pieces of random appliances had been blown across the ground.
Smoke swirled into the air and as it slowly cleared an enormous silhouette stepped inside. Mikey looked up from the ground, taking in the view of the giant like man lumbering in the demolished doorway. A pair of beige, muddy boots that were twice the size of any he had seen before, connected to legs that resembled small tree trunks. The man wore cargo pants and a skin tight t-shirt that was rolled up to his shoulders, exposing a pair of massive arms covered in a thick, black fur. His black hair was matted to his head in clumps and he wore a dull expression that led Mikey to believe he was only capable of one thought at a time.
Hanson grinned as he scanned the kitchen. His dark brown eyes set deep back into his head swept from side to side. He grinded his yellowing teeth and took a step forward coming into
full view.
Steve jumped to his feet at the sight of Hanson. An anger welled inside of him, blocking out any sense of pain. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his keys and threw them at Mit, then charged Hanson in a full sprint.
Hanson was still gazing around the kitchen, his mind taking a moment to compute what was going on. Before he had a chance to react, Steve was on him. He flung himself on Hanson wrapping his arms around his massive waist. The sheer force knocked them both out of the kitchen and they toppled into the backyard in a tangled heap.
Steve landed on top of Hanson and began to rain down blows. Hanson was still bewildered, but his natural instinct to harm others kicked in and he grabbed Steve’s arm and tossed him like a gnat. Steve landed on his feet and slid to a stop. He turned and looked up at Mit who was staring at him from the hole in the kitchen.
“Get to the car!” Steve yelled as he charged back at Hanson like a crazed lion.
With the help of Nickie, Mit grabbed Mikey then snagged the duffle bag with his other hand. Stumbling, he rushed out of the demolished kitchen and tore down the side of the house.
Without looking back, they ran around to the alleyway where Steve’s red Camaro sat. Mikey collapsed onto the hood of the car as Mit tossed the bag into the back. Nickie stood near the front of the car mumbling to herself, trying to regain her composure.
“We can’t…we can’t just leave them.” Mikey huffed, wincing in pain.
“I’m not. I’m going back.” Mit sighed then turned to Nickie. “Nickie. Nickie! Help Mikey in the car and keep it running.”
Nickie nodded her head and grabbed Mikey by the arm. Mit turned and took off towards the house. As he rounded the corner into the backyard, he stopped short staring wide eyed at the tangled mess of limbs.
Steve and Hanson were rolling over one another locked in a deadly battle. Just as Hanson started to squeeze the life out of Steve, he slipped from his grasp and jumped to his feet.
While Hanson was obviously the stronger of the two, Steve was fast and lean. He moved around Hanson like an annoying fly, kicking and punching him, just barely avoiding his trunk like arms as they swung in his direction.
“Get Mr. Clark!” Steve yelled as he delivered a soccer kick to Hanson’s face which seemed to do little more than annoy him. Hanson grunted angrily as he swiped at Steve, but found only air.
Mit zigzagged around them and dove into the kitchen. The floor was littered with toppled over appliances and chunks of plaster that had fallen from the wall. Mit rolled across the floor and hopped to his feet. He sprinted around the corner and slid into the living room.
Mr. Clark was standing in front of the door. He held several bottles of a shiny red liquid in his hand and was shouting out random insults as he threw them onto the porch.
“I don’t think you fools will find me an easy prey.” He yelled and chucked another bottle onto the deck. It exploded into a thick gas, almost totally obscuring the entire porch.
Mit skidded to a stop just shy of the front door and froze. His mouth hung open, his hands clenched tight. His eyes were locked on the porch and the familiar images outside that had given him nightmares since he first saw them.
Instead of men, what Mit saw could only described as creatures. More than ten of them scurried across the porch trying to avoid the acidic smoke. Their faces were elongated like a dog, but with cat like features. Their mouths filled with rows of teeth that looked like thin metal spikes. Their eyes were set high and back on their heads and instead of pupils there were empty holes. A long elegant neck like an Egyptian cat connected to broad muscled shoulders that revealed a very fine fur like what one would find on a new born child.
As the thick fumes swept over them, they staggered backwards and fell to the ground. The skin on their face started to melt off, but was quickly replaced like a shedding lizard. Whatever the gas was made of, it wasn’t enough to kill them, but enough to keep them away for short periods.
“Mit! Mit get out of here!” Mr. Clark yelled as he turned and glanced over his shoulder.
His voice seemed to bring Mit back to reality. He blinked as his eyes focused on Mr. Clark. He grabbed his arm and pulled him.
“Come on, we can make it. We have the car outside.”
Mr. Clark ripped his hands away and tossed another bottle onto the porch.
“This is the only thing keeping them away. Just get to the car and follow that map. I’ll meet you guys. Now go!”
Mr. Clark shoved him towards the kitchen, turning his back to the door. One of the spectrals seized the opportunity and lunged inside, sliding across the floor to the stair case.
“Damn it.” Mr. Clark stammered as he threw another bottle and ran after Mit.
Together they stumbled through the hole in the wall and rolled into the backyard. Steve was still fighting off Hanson the best he could, but it was obvious he was losing. His face was swollen and a fresh stream of blood poured from a nasty gash across his cheek.
Mr. Clark pulled Mit to his feet and then lobbed a bottle at Hanson. It broke on his head and he immediately fell to the ground screaming.
“You two get to the car now!” Mr. Clark shouted.
“Come with us.” Steve yelled back as he hobbled towards them.
“I will…I will. That’s not gonna keep that big feller down long. I’ll distract him and meet you guys around the front. Now go!” Mr. Clark shoved them as he ran back towards the kitchen.
“Hey you overgrown ape. Over here.” Mr. Clark yelled and threw another bottle.
Hanson groaned and then charged after him. Mr. Clark dove back into kitchen and disappeared.
Mit and Steve looked back and then took off around the corner. They ran along the side of the house and into the alley where Nickie sat nervously in the front seat of the red Camaro.
“Slide over Sutherland. Sweetness doesn’t like when I share her.” Steve grinned as he dove into the front seat.
“What took you guys so long and where is Mr. Clark.” Mikey asked.
“We’re picking him up.” Mit shouted as he crammed into the car.
Steve revved the engine and slung the car into gear. With tires screeching, they swung onto the main street and pulled around to the front of the house. He stopped the car and stared out of the window.
On the front porch several men were gathered around. They had the door as well as the windows of the house surrounded. A light mist drifted into the yard, but there was no sign of Mr. Clark.
“How on Earth is Mr. Clark gonna get out of there?” Mit asked skeptically.
Inside Mr. Clark was doing his best to fight off the horde Marcus had brought with him. He was down to his last three vials of Zaspar and was hesitant to use them.
“What do you want Marcus? Why now?” Mr. Clark asked as he backed up against the door to the basement.
“Quiet your quivering fool. Give us the map and we’ll let the children live.” Marcus retorted.
“Except the half -breed, he’s mine.” Hanson spat.
Marcus turned and swatted Hanson across the face knocking him to the floor.
“You should learn to keep your trap shut. You’re not much higher on the totem pole.”
“Steven, Steven is part spectral.” Mr. Clark whispered to himself.
Using one hand he hugged the last bottles of Zaspar to his chest and turned the knob to the basement door with the other.
“Burn in hell Marcus!” He shouted and threw the bottles onto the ground as he dove down the basement steps. The door slammed behind him and rolled onto the basement floor and slid. He quickly jumped to his feet and ran to the wall where a red panel box sat open.
Outside, Steve and the others looked on in fear, praying that Mr. Clark would come running out. Nickie nervously tapped on the dashboard and sighed heavily.
“Steve, it shouldn’t take him this long.”
“I know.” Steve said grimly.
“We’ve gotta go back. We can’t leave him.” Mit demanded.
“We barely made it out of there Mit. If we go back now its suicide.”
“But its Mr. Clark…we can’t leave him.”
“Mit’s right. I’ll go myself.” Mikey griped as he started to wiggle out of the backseat.
“Oh god! Calm down. Fine I’ll go, but Mit you’re coming too.”
Steve swung the door open and stepped out of the car. He started to move the seat forward for Mit when an explosion cracked the air and he was blown across the street. He landed on his side in the road and slid into the curb.
His arm burned and the warm trickle of blood wet his tongue. Moaning, Steve rolled over and squinted. The glare from the fire made his eyes water and he could feel the blazing heat against his face.
Shielding his eyes with his arm, Steve staggered to his feet and looked back across the street. Before his vision fully adjusted and he could see what was going on, he heard Nickie’s screams buzzing across the wind.
“No! Oh my god no!” She yelled at the top of her lungs.
Steve stared back across the street. The bright flicker of flames raged into the air like a dragon’s tongue licking the wind. A thick, black smoke billowed into the air and floated across the lawn.
Steve jumped as secondary explosions went off and chunks of the house he’d just left were blown into the air. He fell to his knees unable to move as fire ravaged the two-story and everything in it.
Mikey slowly stepped from the car with wide eyes. His mouth hung open, tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked on praying Mr. Clark would emerge from the house, but he knew no one in there had survived.
Suddenly, someone brushed past him and knocked him off balance. As he spun around he saw Mit sprinting towards the house. He was halfway to the front porch by the time Steve tackled him and they both fell to the ground.
“What the hell are you thinking?”
“Get off me Steve. Get off me now! He could still be alive in there.”
Mit had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when a loud snap vibrated the air. They both turned simultaneously as the roof collapsed and the house imploded on itself.
Mit collapsed like a folding chair, no longer fighting against Steve. His eyes rained tears down his cheeks and he rolled into a ball.
