Chapter Thirty-Eight: Wreckage
“NIKKI!” he called, following her into the house despite his exhaustion and injuries. She paused on the threshold of the left doorway into the kitchen, the doorway that let into the combined living room/dining room of the house. She stared wide-eyed at the destruction -- chairs and dining room table shattered and scattered about the room, glass sparkling, winking up at her from the dim light cast by the streetlights. And everywhere, blood. The room reeked of the coppery stench of blood. She sensed Daniel as he stepped up behind her.
“Careful what you touch,” he murmured.
She turned her head slightly, acknowledging that he had spoken without responding, then stepped carefully into the wrack covering the dining room floor. Daniel was stunned; he remembered the vampire using him as a battering ram, remembered pulling the monster to the floor and struggling with it, but he didn’t have the slightest clue what had happened to the dining room table -- it was little more than fancy kindling, along with several of the chairs that had surrounded it. The rest were scattered all over the dining room, including one that was lying legs up in the ruins of the coffee table, shattered glass radiating outward. The flatscreen television in the entertainment cabinet had been knocked over, after the cabinet itself had taken a hit which had caused one side to jump outward toward the coffee table.
His shocked survey of the room was brought up short when Nicolette made a strangled noise in her throat as she saw the woman on the couch. He crunched across the room to step up beside her, joining her in looking down at the dead woman. It was hard to make out too many specific details about her in the dim light, but she was lying on her back, arms spread to either side in a grisly parody of ease. Even in the dim light of the house’s interior, they could see that her throat had been torn open, the savaged mass of tissue between her chin and breastbone mostly black in the dim light, with white bits of bone and other things visible in the ripped and torn mess. Blood had cascaded down the front of her pale blouse, soaking it to her waistline, into the folds of her skirt which had been rucked up onto her stomach. Her wrists and ankles were also torn open, bone glimmering wetly in the darkness.
Nicolette stared at the cadaver, at the wounds on her limbs and throat. She struggled not to throw up, fighting the urge to look away and pretend the body wasn’t there, to go about her business and not see the horror reclining on the couch. Moved by an impulse she didn’t understand, feeling her skin want to peel back from her fingertips, Nicolette reached out. She shuddered violently in disgust and horror at the cold, clammy and yet sticky feeling of the cloth as she pulled down the poor woman’s skirt. The tacky squelch of the cloth as it unfolded caused Nicolette’s stomach to spasm, but she swallowed several times loudly, forcing the taste of vomit back down.
“I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.
She jumped as Daniel touched her hand before she withdrew, “Wash before you touch your clothes -- and be mindful of fingerprints.” She could hear the emotion in his voice, could see he was visibly moved. She could barely see him in the gloom, but something in his body language communicated sadness and pity. She nodded as the press of time reasserted itself.
She heard the sound of water through the doorway into the backyard. Daniel looked up, met her eyes with an inscrutable look, “Do it fast. Sirens.”
Nikki nodded, swallowing hard and dashed back through the house. She was lucky; she found the little girl in the closet of the master bedroom -- virtually the first place she looked, reasoning the master bedroom was farther from the front of the house than the guest bedroom. The little girl was huddled in the back of the closet, having jammed her body into the back corner, heedless of the pile of shoes, boxes, and other detritus. Her hands and ankles had been tied brutally tight with her mother’s stockings, a crude gag made from bungee cord and socks covering her mouth. As as soon as Nicolette pulled the closet door open, using the sleeve of her jacket as a makeshift glove, the girl began screaming, her eyes squeezed shut, her shrieks muffled by the socks stuffed her in mouth. Nikki reached up and flicked on the closet light, began speaking quietly and reassuringly to her. After a few seconds, the girl’s panic subsided enough for her to open her eyes. She continued making high pitched whimpering noises, but as soon her eyes met Nicolette’s, she thrust out her tied wrists.
Nicolette, misunderstanding the girl’s gesture, grabbed her wrists and began fumbling with the stockings, swearing in frustration at the intractability of the knots, her sense of urgency making her fingers clumsy. The girl shrank away as something lightly touched Nicolette’s shoulder, making her jump. She half turned, snarling with annoyance as she took the proffered pocket knife from Tommy’s hand, using it to slice through the recalcitrant silk. The girl immediately threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Nikki’s neck, almost strangling her. She was momentarily startled into immobility, then instinctively began rocking the girl, suddenly conscious of her rapid, birdlike heartbeat and sobbing breath.
“Shh-shh, my lovely, shh. We’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
I must be the first kind adult she’s seen since her whole world went mad.
The thought brought her own tears to the surface; she knew all too well what it was like to be a child, captive of an insane and violent adult.
“Shh, baby girl, shh. No one’s going to hurt you.”
She felt Daniel's hand on her shoulder and nodded, knowing how little time she had -- that it might already be too late to make an escape. She detached herself from the little girl, then sliced away the bungee cord, feeling white hot rage rising at the chafed and bloodied corners of her mouth where the cord had abraded her skin, then quickly sliced away the stockings wound around her ankles.
She’s going to be screaming when the circulation starts to come back, Nikki thought disjointedly as she backed out of the closet, carrying the girl after she’d wrapped her arms around Nikki’s neck, then her legs around her waist as Nikki stood up. She turned, heading back out into the living room, but paused at the threshold. She reached across her body, pulling the girl’s head more tightly into her neck as she murmured, “Close your eyes, honey,” then stepped out into the living room, picking her way through the mess, making sure to keep the girl’s head turned firmly away from the horror on the couch. Daniel was at the front door first, holding it open for her. She could hear the sirens in the distance.
She stepped out onto the front porch, relieved none of the neighbors were on the street yet. She settled onto her knees, “Honey, I have to go.”
She waited a moment, but the girl didn’t slacken her grip. She quietly repeated, “Honey, I have to go. If the police see me here, I’ll be in a lot of trouble.”
A moment passed, the sirens growing louder. The girl reluctantly disengaged, her tear-streaked eyes wide. Nicolette murmured, “I’m so sorry, baby. I wish there was more I could do.”
“Nikki, we have to go.”
“Stay here on the front porch, okay? The police will protect you. Don’t go into the house.”
The girl, still weeping quietly, nodded.
“I’ll find you. I promise.”
The wide eyed, tear stained look that followed Nicolette into the shadows of the ruined home haunted her until the day she died.
Nicolette hesitated a moment longer, the image of the forlorn figure on the front porch burning into her memory, then turned and followed Daniel as he ran through the house. She could see Tommy as he turned and ran back toward the door into the back yard. As she came abreast of the woman on the couch, Nicolette stopped, looking with pity at the corpse. She hesitated, aware that Daniel had paused, turning to watch her as she stood over the woman. Daniel felt his throat tighten, suddenly overcome with grief and rage at the pure senselessness and the grotesque unfairness that a world already so filled with utterly insensate and purposeless violence would be layered with yet another level of madness, that it should be visited so casually on this family.
Nikki, her voice throbbing
with emotion, broke into his sudden spiral of emotion, “So help me God, I’ll do everything in my power to protect Marnie and see that she grows up protected and happy.” Daniel nodded agreement, murmuring, “We both will.”
They immediately felt a change in the house, the room still smelling of blood and horror and death, but somehow it felt...lighter in some way, as if some brooding aspect of the house had relaxed, sighing in relieved sorrow.
She tearfully repeated into the silence, “So help me God,” then turned and ran for the back door, Daniel at her heels as they passed into the night.
* * *
Thank you for reading Legacy, the first in what I hope will be a series chronicling the lives of not only Nicolette and Daniel as they learn and grow, but of the other denizens of Half Moon Bay. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you enjoyed it, won't you please leave a review with your favorite retailer?
Thank you,
J. Michael Gonzalez
About the Author
I've spent nearly two decades in high tech, working for a variety of organizations at all stages of growth and as an independent consultant. I've had an interest in writing since I was old enough to put pen to paper, but recently decided to make the jump off the proverbial cliff and switch to writing full time. I've mostly worked in tech, but along the way, I've studied a variety of martial arts including Latosa Escrima, Wing Tsun, and Tae Kwon Do as well as dabbling a teeny bit with combat handgunnery. I've lived in the back country of the American Southwest, hiking, climbing, whitewater canoeing, and caving. I've even competed in a ballroom competition or two.
Connect With Me
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/jmg_writer
Follow to my blog: https://jmichaelgonzalez.com/forum
Legacy wouldn't have been possible without the support of my family and friends. So many people have been so kind and helpful in the creation of this book, often with incidental encouragement that meant more than I can easily express, but there are a handful of folks that deserve extra shoutouts:
Leah and Eric for their amazing willingness to give feedback at all stages of the project;
Doug, for reading and giving feedback through probably half a dozen iterations of Legacy as the storyline evolved;
Natalie for emphatically pointing out that less is more;
Devon for being the mad genius that he is;
And special thanks to my mother for her unceasing, unconditional support, and to my father – wish you could have been here to see this.
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