Dad turned on his small pen light and led the way down the front walk. “I checked earlier,” he said. “It’s frozen. Just enough, can’t even move its eyes. But it’s going to defrost fast when the sun comes up. So we have to move quick.”
Without having to ask, I knew Dad meant Calvin.
We made it to the street and found all to be silent and dark. The faintest promise of sunrise stained the horizon. A chill breeze knifed along the empty road. Aroused by the impending sunrise, the occasional chirps of birds and muffled noise of hidden animals stirred around us. The small critters of the neighborhood prepared for a new day.
At last, we came upon the Bulger home from the side. “So far so good,” Dad said.
“Dad?” Susan said.
“Yeah?” Dad whispered, as if afraid the slightest sound would bring unspeakable danger upon us.
“Did you get the flash last night?”
“No. Chris didn’t,” he said while he scanned the Bulger’s yard.
When we reached the front corner of the house, Dad stopped and pulled out his big flashlight. He swept the bright beam across the two-story house. Nothing appeared amiss. Except for the trampled bushes, all seemed normal.
Ever so quietly, Dad pulled the latch to the still intact chain link gate which barred our way into the back yard. He cringed while he eased it open. He cursed under his breath. The rusted hinges creaked disproportionately loud in the early morning silence.
Dad shined his light around. Someone had put up a fight. The stench of decayed flesh reeked strong among the fresh corpses. He moved amongst the dead and checked the bodies. All had gruesome holes in their skulls.
Dad panned his light across the exterior. One, then two windows came into view. Starkly illuminated by the harsh beam of light, both windows were intact. We moved under the windows and Dad trained the light onto the patio and back door. What I saw froze my heart and stopped me in my tracks.