This was quite possibly the longest time Layla went without speaking to Will. Nearly a full day has passed since they left the motel on a mission to rescue Terra. Although the circumstances were beyond strange and the convenience of police databases, the situation warranted actual worry in the three remaining people of the group. Layla rested her back after being the first shift to drive while Will and Mike sobered up with the burnt coffee of a rest stop. Mike luckily wasn’t drinking, his tolerance for alcohol was minimal at best and being a lightweight certainly saved him from being the one to take them the rest of the way. Will was different in his own way and his tendencies for drinking only led him to conflict and more drinking, but yesterday was the first step he needed to stop. Will glanced towards Mike fiddling away with the contents of the briefcase, and couldn’t help but stare at the bruises now covering a portion of his face. He wanted to apologize more than he wanted to find Terra, maybe that was his issue when it came to responsibility. He always focused on his mistakes rather than care for the things that came his way. Maybe it wasn’t a problem, at least the way Layla saw it, she saw the kid inside that when he broke something that he could or couldn’t fix, that he would move mountains to do so.
“I got something.” Mike said out of the blue, Will kept his eyes on the road, but gestured for him to continue.
“Apparently the car Layla saw last night belonged to Albert Sinnhoffer, the same guy that crashed the car two years ago while he was drunk driving. We knew this, but according to this the heap was towed back to the house and the title was given to Mark Salotto, the groundskeeper slash son-in-law” Mike rustled through the mound of papers and pulled a page out as swiftly as a magician, “but now I see why, he is the last inheritor of the estate and interestingly enough his son Atlas was the last one to go missing on the property. The same night as the car accident.”
“Cut the shit Mike, I know you wanna play detective, but for fuck sake Terra is gone and possible taken by this motherfucker. As soon as we get there, I’m gonna break his jaw and we get Terra back. Understand?” Will hardly raised his voice, but the message was clear. Rage was a silent killer and easily accrued.
The quiet of the trip returned as Layla fluttered wearily between awake and fitful slumber.
Soon they arrived at a sight to behold. Mike shook Layla’s arm, succeeding to wake her as they approached. The high hedges were a luscious green and the gate of black wrought iron seemed almost polished. Layla leapt from the car to open the gate. The thing was dreadfully dated and looked as if it never needed a lock or electronic opener. The gate creaked open with the horrifying squeal of rusted hinges. As soon as the SUV was through, a shed at the far end of the green grass shot open its door to reveal a rugged man in overalls covered in dirt and a massive pitbull only held back by a rope.
“Hi, we are here for a job.” Layla shouted across the field of grass as soon as both Will and Mike got out of the car. The man dropped the rope and the dog sprang into action. It led a full tail charge towards the three while the man lifted something up to his shoulder. The dog was enough to scare Will and Mike into a sprint back towards the front gate, but Layla was absolutely still until she heard the familiar thunderclap of a firearm; the open field did nothing to lessen the block to her eardrums, it was a much larger caliber. She stood there stunned as he raised the firearm again and aimed directly at her. The dog had nearly reached the guys as they fumbled aimlessly with the gate, when Layla gathered the courage to speak again. Maybe it would save her life.
“I know about Atlas, Mark!” She screamed as loudly as she could. The man dropped his rifle just as the dog reached the gates and leapt at the two who narrowly escaped behind the iron bars. The man let out a sharp whistle and the dog came trotting back.
“Come on in, I figured one of you would come by again.” He said as he turned his back towards the former trespassers. Layla waved the two back to her side, although they were hesitant, nevertheless this proved her determination and neither of the guys would dare stand against it now. They approached the shed with trepidation because one wrong move felt as if it would set off a landmine placed conveniently on their path, but it was a foolish thing to think.
“So, they're still sending people out aren’t they?” The man poured himself a cup of coffee from the oldest percolator they had ever seen, then a cup for each of them. The squeal of the styrofoam and the scent from the fresh brew filled the small foyer of the garage. The view outside made it look like a shed, but as it turns out it was only a vestibule for the garage hidden by the trees. Will stared at the cars for every one of them carried some degree of collectible vintage and his eyes fell on the one at the end, covered in a dust sheet and several tools.
“I’m sorry I don’t know what you mean.” Layla took a small sip from the cup and gulped hard as she swallowed the scalding liquid.
“You know, the old doctor, twins in matching suede, and a twitchy fellow um… Marcus.”
Layla looked deeply into his eyes and he looked back with the same tiring depression of loss. His face drooped slightly on one side and the wrinkles were becoming more visible the longer she stared.
“I’m sorry we disturbed you, but do you perchance have the car that Al drove still?” A grave look settled in his features as he slowly contemplated his answer, but before Layla had a notion of an apology he replied.
“Yes.” The gruff tone settled on the three and as ominous as it was, Will passed his gaze to the dust sheet at the end of the line of cars.
“Is that it?” Against his better instincts, Will pointed a finger across the garage towards the disregarded heap. Mark placed his cup on a toolbox and sighed before beckoning the three to follow. He brushed a few of the tools into a crate and ripped away the sheet in a blinding spray of dust. None of them could resist the urge to cough before the particles of ashen dirt, all except for Mark.
Before them stood the crumbling and mangled shell of a once beautiful car; once the cloud settled away from view, Layla merely gazed at the contents of their one lead. Pieces strewn, scattered haphazardly within the cab and rust creeping its destructive tendrils around the frame. Underneath the paint and upon the chrome which was now dulled in intensity, the toll was paid and timeworn was the price.
“This can’t be it.” Disbelief rang true in Layla’s voice, but had no meaning to Mike or Will.
“Sorry girl, this is it,” Mark patted the roof of the car before peering inside, “this is what was left after that night. I would’ve buried this car with them. This pile haunts my dreams and since the nearest scrapyard is about four hours away I can’t afford to tow it. So here it sits until they come to tear this place down.” Mark’s voice bounced around within the confines of the garage until Mike spoke up.
“Tear the house down? The place has history and the value of it must be astronomical.”
“This place is a curse.” Mark slammed his fist into the side of the car, causing a significant dent. Despite being an older model with the engineering and hardware of actual steel, his fist came away with small red pools forming under the skin, but never broke the surface.
“Why don’t you leave then?” Layla said, she placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I can’t… If I do, he dies like her.”
“Like her?” Layla moved her touch to the weathered hands of the man and felt the cold rough calluses cutting into the tender parts of her hands. This was against her nature and she could already hear the argument she would receive from Will, but the hurt behind his voice and the trauma lurking behind his eyes. The dark circles and heavy bags of his features gave him credibility, meanwhile Will and Mike exchanged looks and covered the heap once again with the tarp. Will knew he needed the comfort and predetermined that Layla had found a loophole in his own logic. It was acceptable, but seeing the tears in the older man’s eyes had begun to form and the pressure of sadness formed behind his. Although none of them had any clue what was actually going on inside Mark’s mind, the urge of sympathy was all the more present.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” Mark wiped whatever tears escaped and gestured to the stairs leading to the loft, “There is some bedding and cots up there. You can stay the night.”
“Thank you for the offer, but we can get a hotel, it's only two hours to town.” Mike pointed out, but the look he received from Mark was enough to make him recede.
“The roads aren’t safe, especially for you.” Mark gathered himself and left the others to their own conversations, but doubled back before leaving the garage. “Don’t go inside the house after dark.” Layla shot a glance at Will and Mike before leaving the garage to pull their stuff from the car.
“This is great, I’ll find the bedding if you set up the cots.” Mike said, returning to his cheery state as if this was normal. Will took one glance at the loft and turned to follow Layla. Mike shrugged and went along with his own plan. Once outside, Will caught up to Layla who was busy pulling whatever bags they would need for one night from the SUV.
“You can’t be serious, we are not staying here. I don’t know about you, but that guy has to be unstable. Do you really want to be murdered in your sleep?” Will slammed the door once Layla was out of the way, which startled her, but did not deter her.
“That man isn’t a killer and maybe if you saw what I saw, maybe you would take him up on his offer. Whatever is going on, he is trapped. Did you hear what he said there?”
“He is obviously hurt, but that doesn’t make him sane. The gun and the attack dog. Who knows what else he has access to. He looks like he has PTSD, and the only thing that kept us from shooting us was his dead son’s name.” Will brushed his hand against his forehead and eyes, which came away with the sweat of the Texas sun, “this doesn’t feel right and you know it as well as I do, but listen to me. What if he is the one who killed the others that came here before.”
Layla knew an argument was coming, but wasn’t prepared for the fear that often came from her. Her once usual questions swirled in her mind like: Is it safe, will we be caught, and are they going to kill us. Every time the worry crackled in her voice, Will would be the one to sway her and keep her level-headed until they were safe, but now that the worry sprung from him Layla was unsure how to handle this.
“If you want to leave, then just leave. I believe I am safe and Mike will agree with me. I am staying.” Will's face became bright red as he heard those words, he pulled the keys from his pocket and stormed over to the driver’s side. The engine turned over almost immediately and the pop of the gears shifted into drive. Layla watched as the car zoomed through the gates which were still open from their entrance. The dog stormed from its small domain and chased the SUV down the road until they were both out of view. Layla stacked herself with the bags she pulled out and hobbled her way to the garage, Mike emerged from the door and rushed to help Layla.
“Where is he heading off to?”
“Don’t worry about it, he just needs some time to breathe. He will be back in the morning.” Mike reassured her.
After a while, The cots were placed in the corner near the air conditioning unit, an idea orchestrated by Layla. Mark walked inside the garage and noted that they were missing one.
“I know it’s not ideal, but thank you for staying. It's not often that I get visitors that understand.”
After placing an unlabeled box on one of the workbenches, he pulled up a chair at the end of the cots.
“Thanks for letting us stay, I don’t think I could last another minute in that car.” Layla settled herself on top of the covers, although they were a little dusty, but were surprisingly comfortable.
“If you don't mind me asking, what was your job here before… they passed away?” Mike tried skirting around mentioning it, but found it nearly impossible to avoid.
“Same as what I do now, I became the summer groundskeeper shortly after my wife left. My son and I moved from Utah after spending a few summers here; Although this place was built and owned by my wife’s family, it never felt right to take advantage of the situation. Atlas lived with the family in the mansion, while I stayed in the shack behind the garage.” He seemed more interested to share, but Layla imagined that this was only the show for polite company.
“That sounds lonely, being away from your son and your wife leaving you. I’m so sorry.” Layla readjusted herself to be the smallest amount closer to him.
“It was a lot at first, but after one winter I realized that this place was special and its mysteries were made for Atlas. He was the smartest kid I had ever seen: good grades, athletic, and so kind. That boy was something else, and what he could do felt as if it was just a miracle. Spanning projects for an endless imagination… imagination.” Mark trailed off, lost in that one word until Mike verbally vomited the question that surely would have had him shot if he asked earlier, but something was different about his demeanor that became apparent as the seconds passed.
“Where is your son?” Layla felt the color run from her features as she listened to the question, and regretted not leaving with Will.
“He was taken by the man, I should have listened to him.” Caught completely off guard by the answer, Layla expected the surly tone from before, but not sadness. Somehow she knew that this was a touchy subject and now understood her purpose here, but decided not to share. This man had been through enough and likely was under the watch of law enforcement. The pieces came together before her, but it wasn’t ready at least not from a speculative point of view. She suddenly remembered her dream of the burning cabin and the fleeing shadow. Find the boy, find the door, and find what? Missing pieces were always pet peeves, but mysteries were only scattered pieces.
“What man?” She blundered, Layla felt his dead eyes meet hers and the cold shiver of anxiety fluttered in the back of her head.
“The Ragged Man. A stupid name I know, but it was the thing he described it as for years.”
His hand reached for the back of his pants causing Mike to flinch as well as Layla, but instead of a gun as they expected, it was a flask. Large and scuffed with years of use. He took a large swig and offered the scratched silver container to Mike and Layla. She refused, but Mike obliged with the token and shuttered; nearly spitting out the stuff, Layla saw the watering of his eyes as he finally managed to swallow the stuff.
“For the years we spent in the house, I had never seen it, but Atlas was a different case. He saw things that made little to no sense. His imagination was wild and unpredictable, but it began to fall into a pattern between creativity and borderline schizophrenic. For a while I tried to make appointments with therapists, school counselors, and once my sister came to diagnose him. All of them failed, some more than others.”
“What did he see?” Mike pulled himself closer to the edge of the cot, he could not resist the lure of haunting tales, but caution was tossed aside. Layla did the opposite, she backed herself away from Mark and hoped he didn’t notice.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“I don’t want to talk about it; my boy was clearly delusional, but sometimes I can't help but notice when he began to pull away. Atlas was shy at first when he met his grandfather Ralph, but later on I saw how close they became. The night I finally saw the man, the night my boy was taken away,” Mark choked back tears as he slicked his hair back from his forehead, and continued, “the same night I lost the last of my family. There he was, that thing stood in the window of the study and stared at me until… until it disappeared into nothing. I rushed inside and searched for him. The man was gone, along with my son. I left him alone, Albert took everyone out of the blue.” Layla could now hear his speech start to slur as his sobs rushed out. He buried his face into his hands and all they felt for him was sympathy, but there had to be a reason. Mike took him by the shoulders and guided him outside. Layla expected the feeling of sadness to reside, but even with him gone the heaviness of the air never lifted. All she could really feel was the gloom of losing her own family members. First her mother and her battle with cancer, now her sister recently taken to god knows where, but now the trail feels cold. The clearly destroyed car, and the house that was not right. She no longer suspected that she was being lured to this place under mysterious circumstances; Layla had been dragged here. She only wished that she fought a little longer, but there was obviously a punishment for running away. Layla stood as Mike walked back inside. He glanced towards the box from before and made his way towards it.
“He said he brought some MREs, and some reading material.” He pulled them from the box and tossed one to Layla, but she wasn’t hungry. Layla worried about Will; if Mark was telling the truth, what was the danger that awaited him?
Will finished his beer, ones that he packed for their trek and hurled the bottle into the treeline. He had never really left the property, but decided to stay out of view.
“I’m sorry Layla.” He said to himself, he slid his back down the side of the car and rested against the rims. Mark’s dog followed him to the edge of the property and stayed with Will. After their first encounter, Will figured that the dog would attack him, but as soon as he left the car, the dog sat in the dirt and watched him down the six-pack of beer one by one. The dog eventually drew closer as the sun slowly faded behind the horizon and the sky grew darker. He fiddled with the collar around the dog’s neck.
“Either I don’t remember your name or we haven’t been introduced.” With the last remnant of light, Will managed to read the name engraved into the tag.
“Colt huh? Good name. I’m Will.” The dog licked his hand in response and placed his head on Will’s lap. Will always had a soft spot for dogs, at least small dogs; the larger variety tended to scare him after his experience of a stray when he was barely older than six.
“I don’t say this that often, but you are a sweetheart.” His eyes shifted to the edge of the trees and the pale light cast by the moon.
“I should probably go, you too Colt.” The dog rose to its feet, mirroring Will as he pulled himself up with the assistance of his side mirror. Colt sauntered back towards the house while Will opened the door to the driver’s seat and hopped inside. The engine took a little coaxing as Will cursed under his breath, finally he stopped his attempt. The car was sentient for that moment as it refused to start. Will instinctively lift his fist to his face as he let out a breathy belch into it. The alcohol sent up in his breath was ripe enough to make his nose burn.
“Good choice.” He opened the door again and stepped away from the car. He remembered a house on the way there and decided to take his chances rather than returning. He placed his keys within their hiding spot inside the driver’s side wheel well and began his walk towards the general direction. The dark was never a fear of his, this made the occasional cloud passing the moon a little less scary. After a few minutes of walking on the dirt path, Although he knew he wasn’t lost the further away he was from the SUV the path became unfamiliar. An hour had passed before Will saw the lights of a nearby farm house. He found it odd that he managed to reach the place without ever seeing the asphalt of the main road, but there he was. His weakening state of exhaustion after such a long day was beginning to show, he reached towards the knocker on the front door and tapped it down three times. He waited and waited for an answer. The lights were on, cars were neatly arranged on the driveway, and the braying of livestock could be heard behind the house.
“Hello?” Will cracked the open and called inside.
“Is anyone home?” He knew this was a bad idea, nevertheless in his faltering judgment he walked inside. Walking through the living room and kitchen for any signs of life. He found none until he went upstairs to the bedrooms, inside a room only a few feet larger than a supply closet sat a bear. Plush and soft, despite the fur being weathered by years of coddling and washes; Will reached down to pick the small thing up, recalling the childhood moments that he would carry one just like this one and in that moment he stopped dead in his track… the bear was warm, nearly twice the temperature of the already chilled house. His blood ran as cold as ice as he searched the corners of the room with his eyes alone, in the back of his mind, he knew he was being watched. He dropped the bear to the floor, it was nearly inaudible except for the clack of the plastic buttons sewed to the face colliding with the hardwood beneath his feet.
The air of the room shifted from the cool night ahead to a bitter and blistering chill, behind Will was thumping as if something was running down the stairs. He whipped his gaze to the open door to see a shadow receding from view. The flutter of his heart became a spiked pain within his chest, each beat thundered against his chest as if trying to break free. Rather than flee, however, his curiosity only served to thrash violently against the will of his own mind. ‘Someone was here… oh shit’ Will thought to himself as he stealthily attempted to avoid the creaking floor that had suddenly appeared in every floor board with every stride as he made his way down to the living room. He watched vigilantly for whatever was waiting for him. His breath slowed as he tried to calm himself as he desperately concocted the story that he thought the house was abandoned. He knew this was a lie and assumed that it would automatically be detected, but with the rush of blood in his ears and the quaking in his chest; this was the best excuse that popped into his mind. Shivering feet guided him down the stair gracefully, he thought to just go for the door without even a second thought. He waited and listened for anything else around him even the slightest gust of air would have sent him straight through the window without fear of broken glass or the chance of him getting shot in the back as he escaped. This was Texas after all. When the coast was clear on all counts, he turned the corner to the foyer and amongst the pile of old shoes and boots, he saw something he never expected. The door was open, although his memory was severed on whether he had closed it or not; it didn't matter, he leapt at the opportunity when he heard movement in the kitchen. The wood was old and the mesh somehow older, breaking it was as simple as newspaper. He braced for the impact, closing his eyes and charged forth with his shoulder and head bowed when suddenly a hard impossible surface appeared at the end of his brutish stride . His body fell to the floor nearly lifeless, a wound of split flesh opened on the cap of his shoulder and the side of his head. Blood trickled through his hair, stained the carpeted entrance. What was once a proud staple piece of the jesting, yet loving home that had once said ‘Why are you still here?’ now read as ‘why are you here?’ the pool of dark burgundy covering only one word, but never growing larger.
Will laid still, unconscious for hours, until he was woken by the shrill screech of silverware on plate. The humming buzzed in his ears loud enough that he felt as if he was certain that others could hear it also. His body was still limp as he slowly became alert about his surroundings. Try as he might, his eyes could only flutter for a moment before being forced to shut once again, the pain of the lights were too much to handle. Will forced himself to open his eyes, he strained for a moment that felt like ages; when he finally saw what he hit. Panic shot through every nerve in his body like a storm shuddered inside his flesh.
The door that was gone, replaced with drywall and the stained white of decaying dry paint. All evidence that had once had once pointed to freedom had been substituted for an inescapable blank. He pushed himself to his knees before he felt a tug on his shoulder that took the brute of the force. He glanced at it, the soaked blood on his shirt had become dry, but most importantly a hand was there.
“Fuck!” Will shouted in fear, pushing himself to the wall. He curled into a ball before taking a look when a voice spoke; he relaxed, but still remained cautious. He squeezed his eyes shut.
The voice was soft and kind, resembling a mother’s voice, though the words were muffled he took a chance and peeked towards his captor. A woman; old, but no older than his mother. A dress of sown flowers and rays of sunshine captured perfectly in thread and fabric. Handmade to say the least, her lips didn’t move when she spoke.
“Come to dinner, I made you your favorite.” She wore a smile, wrinkles of crow’s feet barely noticeable on her fair skin. Will whimpered as he cowered heavily in his hands.
“You are safe here.” Will was already forming a plan, however he would have to accept it before enacting it.
“Ok.” Will’s normally so confident voice had turned sheepish in her presence. He pushed himself to his feet, although his stance was faltering, he slowly regained the strength to move when the smells of whatever had been made enticed him further. The house was filled with the scent of baked goods, savory meats, and sweet notes of cinnamon or strong nutmeg. She led the way, he peered through the doors past the foyer, furniture so old that even the places that they sat were digging into the hardwood floor. The feeling of imminent doom rested deeply at the back of his mind, every step felt closer to comfort, the sting of air upon his cuts dulled tremendously when he finally stepped into the dining room. A family of six sat before him, many with wounds like his and worse sat with smiles carved deeply into their face, but the eyes. The eyes were filled with darkness, so deep and dark that the light cast from the buzzing fixture seemed just as dark as the shadows. He took his seat and his eyes rested on the banquet before him. He reached for the basket of steaming rolls, the alcohol leaving him starved as it was purged from his system.
“What do you think you are doing?” A large and calloused hand gripped his forearm tightly, the owner of said hand stared deeply into Will’s eyes.
“Grace will be said in this house.” The man’s torn voice strained with effort as the words left his lips.
“That’s right honey.” The woman spoke from her end at the head of the table, “Jilly, do you want to say grace?” Her gaze turned to the smallest of the family. A little girl no older than eight, holding the bear Will had found upstairs.
“Yes Momma.” She outstretched her hands to the two beside her, prompting everyone to join.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” The prayer was simple enough, Will was disoriented to say the least as he listened to the prayer he had been so familiar with. ‘Is this a concussion?’ He thought the eyes of his captors were odd to say the least, but maybe he was seeing things, although he felt safe nothing had persuaded him that this was normal or that the door had just never been there. His thoughts were always cloudy after drinking and maybe this whole evening was just a misunderstanding with himself. “Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” The girl paused for a moment after the prayer, but had not said amen. Being as young as she was, maybe she forgot the end. Will recalled seeing something to that extent on social media before where they make something up and get a laugh, but she continued on a new verse.
“Thy evil that we have come to deserve, hear our prayer Lord. We offer all we have to be forgiven, protect us this night and the day to come. We march for thy glory and we should fight for thy name. Amen.” Confusion struck Will as he listened to this new verse, though it wasn’t odd for family’s to make their own traditions and “rituals”, the gravity behind the girl’s voice felt heavier than when she began.
“Amen.” The others chanted before the cacophony of cutlery and scarfing of food. Will opened his eyes after a few moments to see that his plate had already been filled to the brim with food and in the portions that he would have served. Mashed potatoes underneath a slice of spice cover brisket with gravy drizzled over top, corn neatly piled separately from the green beans, and candied yams placed on the dish for a roll. Placed in his hand was a roll, cut cleanly and buttered perfectly. His appetite took the wheel, seeing the others so clearly enjoying the food, he thought no harm to the food. He shoveled every bit into his salivating maw and when he needed to breath he filled his mouth with the sweetest glass of iced tea. Will was beyond certain that before there had been just a nasty illusion of fear and drunkenness that when he was asked a question by the mother that he nearly missed it.
“So what have they been doing in the Sinner’s house up the road?” Will cough into his sleeve, secretly wiping the spilled food from his lips. His eyes avoided the faces of the others as he looked towards the head of the table. Her plate was empty aside from a glistening carving knife resting in the remaining juices of the Brisket.
“Nothing aside from visiting, we will be gone in the morning.” It felt like a lie, but he was certain that this was a one night endeavor.
“Oh well, that’s not so bad. Tell me dear, how did your cabin burn down that made you come so far to see a bitter old man?” Will felt the spines of fear creep up his spine.
“How… how do you know that?” Unsure whether to run or to fight. Will pulled his knife deeper into his grasp.
“Oh we know lots of things. Word spreads fast in the family, like Mike and Layla are alone with no way out. Mark fast asleep with a bottle of whiskey half as old as him and you hide your keys in the wheel well of your car.” A smile flickered on her lips just before the lights flicked on and off to back on again. The wounds of the others around him seemed just a little older and the smell of the food was dissipating as a smell of decay pushed its way through.
“Listen, thanks for the food, but I should be gone.” He forced an awkward smile as he backed out his chair only to be met with a hold as strong and cold as iron hold him in place, in an instant the two men to his side had him trapped in place. From beneath the table cloth were two sets of black holes and smiles for both holding his legs in place.
“We can’t just let you leave, that wouldn’t be right.” The lights flickered again and when they returned, all of those who were sitting before stood with their faces staring directly at Will. All that was left on the table were no longer food, but parts. Parts of what Will didn’t want to know. Bowls of eyes of every color, a femur lay half carved where the brisket was, and the dish of candied yams were not much different besides a whole human finger lay still underneath the syrup still painted with nail polish.
“Oh fuck, please don’t hurt me.” Will pleaded pathetically as he struggled hopelessly against his fleshy restraints.
“Oh we aren’t going to hurt you, not yet at least, Although I can't say the same for Him.” The girl replied, she pointed her finger towards the mother.
Where the mother stood sat a shroud of blackness, as deep as the eyes of the others. He stared intently at the mass of darkness and from it came an arm. Just as dark and deep and in its hand was the carving knife.
“As long as you do what he says, no harm will come to you or your friends.” The man that had spoken before dinner, whispered into his ear, which only caused Will to struggle harder than he had ever done before. A figure of a tall thing came from the darkness, it flipped the table out of its way causing every piece of cutlery, dish and body parts across the room with ease. The thing approached slowly as if relishing in the fear obviously emanating from Will. It didn’t speak, it only pushed its head closer to Will’s face. Will didn’t know the question it had asked, but without a doubt he knew the answer.
“I don’t know why we are here, I don’t know who Atlas is or who the others are. What Key? I haven’t been in the house.” Will prattled these off as if it was an interrogation, but they were truths in his mind. The thing stared deeper into his eyes. The whole house groaned as if it had let out a sigh of frustration as details of the thing became clear. Tattered clothing and an ever shifting pattern of twisting muscles flexed underneath the things skin. The face was nothing more than writhing tendrils of living shadow, when the details of its appearance seemed to reach a zenith, The thing chuckled a wretched laugh, and thrusted its hands into Will’s eyes. A piercing screech emanated from Will’s lungs as his breath was drawn out from the mind splintering pain thrust upon him. He fought viciously, but was powerless to stop what came next.
Layla woke from a fitful sleep on the cot inside the garage. Mike was snoring away as he cuddled a spare pillow meant for Will. She was worried about him, but came to the conclusion that he was safe in town drinking his cares away at some bar that would likely throw him out. She glanced at her phone to check the time.
‘No service’ read proudly at the top of her notification bar, but surprisingly the time was only about two am. She figured some music would be able to knock her out. The light chill in the garage forced her to hide inside the sleeping bag. The muskiness was mostly gone now, replaced by her sweat and whatever remained of her perfume. ‘Just a few more hours then he will be back.’ She thought to herself as she queued her favorite playlist. A few songs passed by with so much as a droop in her eyelids, while finally an old song from her childhood came along. She remembered when Terra and her would sing along like children do. This one had finally begun to do the trick, despite the synth and bad lyrics of 80’s pop, she felt the tug to finally shut her eyes after placing the song on repeat. She woke with a start when her unconscious mind realized that the music was no longer playing. She searched for her phone within the sleeping bag and the floor around her to no avail. Finally she pulled a flashlight from her bag and shined the beam around the garage. Mike was still fast asleep, although now on the cold concrete of the garage beside his cot. She pointed the light towards the entrance to see that the door was wide open. Layla pulled on her shoes, knowing full well that she had bent the arch and crept towards the door. The moon was still high in the sky and the stars were so vibrant. “If nothing else, the view out here is beautiful.” She said aloud, though nobody was around, it still felt necessary to say as a way to commemorate it. She stepped out of the garage, and took one look at the house. It was creepy in its own way, but it looked even more dilapidated in the moonlight. From there she made her way to the shack behind the garage, the door was shut tight, but the unmistakable sound of snoring was audible. ‘Where did you go?’ Layla rubbed her eyes and stretched her back. ‘It will have to wait until tomorrow’ she took one step towards the garage and heard the song. As faint as it was, she knew it. Layla followed the noise to the back of the house, logically it wouldn’t be here. It was too far from where she heard it, but undeniably it was getting louder as she approached a hedge of what looked like a garden. The leaves were willing and the climbing weeds flourished along the bases of the statues. She turned off the flashlight when she heard a voice from within singing along to the lyrics of Blue Monday by New Order.