Read Homecoming (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller #1) Page 24

  ***

  Sam Henderson stared at the coffee maker, or tried to. His eyes kept shutting; he should have known better than to sit up and watch that stupid movie last night. It had been one of those chick flicks that Carolyn liked to watch, and she had wanted him to watch it with her. It had actually been a pretty good movie, but he had pretended not to like it out of principle.

  Sam was not a morning person by nature, but the Triple Gem Mining Company was doing its damndest to make him one. The job was a double jinx; he had to get up early, and he had to work underground. Neither situation greatly appealed to him, but coal mining was pretty much the only good-paying job that you could get with just a high school diploma, unless you moved away. Sam had been born and raised in Shallow Springs and had no intention of leaving, thus he was resigned to the coal mines. It wasn’t that bad, really, and he knew that he was lucky to have a job at all.

  When there was enough coffee in the carafe to fill his mug, he snatched the pot and quickly sloshed the joe into his cup. Some of the hot liquid poured onto the warmer before he could replace the carafe, but that was okay. He only had time for one cup, anyway. He wished he had more time to relish the stillness of the early morning, but he just couldn’t bring himself to wake up any earlier. At least he didn’t have to work the hoot owl shift anymore. That had gotten really old really quick.

  From somewhere outside, his dog Rusty began to bark. That was just great. The dumb mutt would probably end up waling Carolyn, and Sam would just as soon not have that happen. Not that he wouldn’t like to get a kiss goodbye before he left, but Carolyn tended to be grumpy as hell if something woke her before she was ready to get up.

  Rusty was really tearing it up out there. Sam wondered what was causing the dog to cut such a shine. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been awake for long, but he was starting to feel on edge. He considered the shotgun in the hall closet, and suddenly thought that he would like very much to have it in his hands. The feeling was totally ungrounded, but that didn’t make it any less urgent. He trotted to the closet and retrieved the firearm.

  “What’s up with Rusty?” Carolyn called from the bedroom, her voice thick with sleep.

  “Nothing,” Sam answered. “I’m going out to check on him. Go back to sleep.”

  He waited a moment for a response, and when there was none he eased toward the kitchen door. He flipped the switch to the porch light, knowing as soon as he did it that it was a wasted effort. The bulb had blown weeks ago. He’d been meaning to replace it, but had never gotten around to it.

  If he took the time to rummage around for a new bulb, replace the blown one, and go check on things outside, he would be late for work. He remembered that there was a flashlight in the kitchen junk drawer, the one beside the refrigerator, and he grabbed it. The batteries were weak, but it would shine enough light to let him see where he was going.

  He was unlocking the door when he realized that Rusty had stopped barking. When had that happened? When he was getting the gun? The flashlight? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it had just been a coyote passing close enough for Rusty to pick up its scent. Probably that was it, but since he already had the shotgun and flashlight, he might as well take a quick look-see. At least he would feel better about leaving Carolyn there alone.

  Sam opened the door and peered out into the blackness. Nothing moved, which was odd because Rusty usually came running when he heard a door open. Surely the dog hadn’t gone off in pursuit of whatever it was that had spooked him. Rusty was territorial; he guarded the yard as if he owned it, but he wasn’t prone to wandering off. He called for the dog. Like Carolyn, Rusty did not respond.

  Well, it wasn’t getting any earlier. He had five minutes, tops, before he had to leave. Even though they lived only a few minutes from town, he had to pass through the Springs and travel another fifteen minutes to get to the mine. He hadn’t been late since he’d started the day shift, and he wasn’t about to tarnish his record.

  He walked out onto the small back porch and again called Rusty’s name. No dice. It wasn’t like the mutt not to come when Sam called, either. He wasn’t as much concerned as aggravated; he was sure Rusty would come dragging home with his tail between his legs sooner or later. He listened for a moment, heard nothing out of the ordinary, and started back inside.

  Something hit his legs, hard and low, and he grabbed the door frame to keep from tumbling over. He looked down to see a naked kid wrapped around his legs. Except it was a funny-looking kid, the way its backbone arched, and it stank to high hell. Then it bit into his leg. The pain was tremendous, but he didn’t concentrate on it for long because another one jumped on his back and sank its teeth into his shoulder. He tried to swing the shotgun around, but it was torn from his grasp and lost to him.

  More of the kids-that-weren’t-kids piled onto him, driving him to his knees. He saw several of them run through the door and into the house. He tried to scream for Carolyn, to tell her to lock the bedroom door and call the police, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle.

  The last thing that Sam heard was a single, startled scream from his wife. Then his world fell silent.