CHAPTER 13
SIMON’S HOUSE
An hour later, the lights flickered and a roar boomed down on them from up above, the ceiling providing an adequate buffer in drowning out much of the shockwave. Any possible road rage and cop killing seemed less likely with the torrential rain pummeling a landscape not accustomed to it. Chase thought of the luggage he had left in his truck back at the motor inn. Hopefully he’d shut everything up tight enough so that his clothes and personal items wouldn’t be ruined.
Despite his desire to get out of Helensview, the storm had likely given him another night’s stay there, and with Peddle as company no less.
To be on the safe side, Chase went around the house fastening shut every window and most of the doors. The front door remained the one exception. If the demons got in some other way unexpectedly, he didn’t want to waste time trying to jiggle the lock undone. At least if something came in through the main entry, he’d meet it with the barrel of the .9mm staring down at it. Thankfully, he was in Simon’s house, which meant that Simon’s mom probably had ammo locked away somewhere. Provided he found a key or learned of any safe combination, he’d be able to reload his gun.
With a plan in mind, he waited until the others fell asleep before searching. The thought to arm Peddle occurred to Chase, but Peddle was still too much of a flight risk.
“How many bedrooms does your house have, Simon?” he asked, glancing around near the hallway leaving the living room.
“Two, sir, plus a bathroom, all down that way,” Simon replied, pointing toward that same hallway.
Briefly noting what Simon had just confirmed, Chase came around to the living room sofa and sank down into the cushions, fatigue from the day’s events catching up with him. His exhaustion should have instead come from milking a cow or plowing the field in Grains Plain. Anything had to be better than waiting around to see if his self-indulgent brother was still alive. But he couldn’t leave, not without first learning what happened to Dylan. Not that Chase was particularly concerned for himself. He knew he could deal with his brother’s death over time.
Yet Ma and Pa would be beside themselves with heartache if they never had closure in Dylan’s disappearance. Such grief might compromise the family’s ability to hold onto the farm, especially if Pa’s health deteriorated before the paperwork naming Chase as Pa’s successor went through. The chance existed that Pa had a living will to be carried out in the event of his death. But until now, Chase hadn’t thought to ask.
“I don’t like this,” Peddle complained from a far corner of the room, his arms crossed, his lower lip slightly protruding, his shoulders slumped as he stood against the wall. “I shouldn’t have left my store to the mercy of those demons.”
Initially jostled back to alertness by the sound of Peddle’s voice, Chase disregarded the man’s words. At present, Simon remained the greater concern. With a father they couldn’t reach and a demonic mother now dead and rotting in a gulch, the boy had nowhere to go.
His plight certainly kept things in perspective for Chase. Despite recent troubles, things could have been much worse for the Weaversons. Was there really a silver lining in the dark clouds looming over Helensview’s fate?
As the rain pounded against the window panes, Chase kept a watchful gaze on the lights. So far they’d flickered only once or twice, but the gusting winds outside threatened an imminent outage if they got any stronger. The three of them would need to gather candles, batteries, flashlights, and lanterns before the power grid fell victim to either the storm or a demon attack.
But even if the power stayed on, things might not return to Helensview’s brand of normal. Should the world somehow survived this unscathed and that Simon’s dad didn’t or couldn’t come back, the kid would have no means of paying the bills. The house would be foreclosed upon in no time. If Simon made his food supplies last long enough to reach that point, he’d most certainly wind up in an orphanage or foster care.
The thought of taking Simon in did occur to Chase, but he wasn’t ready to become an adoptive father and take on the family farm at the same time. Once he sorted things out first, he might be up for the challenge afterward. Yet Simon needed a parent right away. Reaching his dad remained the best option for everyone involved.
“Nice home you have,” Chase said. His fingers brushed against a wicker cabinet nestled in the corner nearest him, the wood polished as if someone went around dusting the place on a frequent basis. “How long have you lived here?”
“All my life,” Simon said, rolling his chair around as if to give himself a better view of the men.
Peddle snorted again, his impatience with the situation growing intolerable for Chase. Making things worse, the gas station owner began pacing back and forth, the floorboard creaking with every third step.
“If you’re that bored with our situation, Peddle, then you know where the front door is. Go on. Try and survive on your own, if you can.” Chase bit his tongue before he swore up a storm in Simon’s presence.
“Forgive me,” Peddle said, sounding unapologetic. “I haven’t had anything to eat in a while.”
Chase rubbed his own belly as it too demanded food. He looked toward the kitchen area, and then right at Simon.
“I ought to have something in my pantry still,” Simon said. “Let me go look for you.”
Simon rolled out of sight a few seconds later. Chase waited until the boy was out of ear’s reach before glaring at Peddle.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your desire to go check on your store than its condition?” Chase grunted.
Peddle sighed, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He paused for a second, as if thinking twice about doing so, before lighting up. Despite the lack of any ash trays in the room, Peddle taking a deep puff right inside the house further underscored his selfishness. Chase thought quickly and brought a potted fern over to dispose of the ashes properly.
“I’m doing the best I can to get by. Isn’t that what we all do?”
“Funny how you’re just now starting to think of others beyond yourself,” Chase said, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m just looking out for my survival. Same as everyone else.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, some of us actually pay attention to how our actions affect others. Putting your business ahead of anything else may work for you, but what about the gas stations you’re driving out of business? Or how about the way you’ve trampled all over this town’s dignity?”
“You and I both know this town had no dignity before we showed up,” Peddle said, lowering his voice as if actually remembering Simon’s presence in the other room. “You and me, we get how screwed up this place is.”
“That doesn’t mean I wish bad things to befall it. No one should ever live in fear of a demon attack, Peddle. What happened to this town was done by design, not by accident. People just don’t become demons without a reason. This all started right after your gas station opened up. How bizarre is it that you just happened to have the pills that can counteract the effects?
“And by the way, just the act of sucking down that cigarette almost guarantees your guilt right there.”
Peddle cast an annoyed look Chase’s way. “And just how would you know?”
“Because I’ve smoked before. Granted, I haven’t touched a cigarette in a couple of years, but any time I thought I’d get busted for something, I went straight for the smokes. You should have seen it when…”
“Nice life story, buddy, but I don’t have time for this. I have to think about what I’m going to do with my store, assuming it’s still in one piece,” Peddle said, taking another huff.
“You think I’ve got time to deal with you moping about your precious gas station?” Chase shot back hastily, the buzzing in his head stirring once more. It was faint, but he could hear the clatter of demonic activity going on around town. Nothing exact, mainly an overall sense of restlessness that the storm itself had brought on.
Peddle
clenched his teeth. “With that attitude towards business, how do you expect to keep your family farm from going under?”
“Right now the bigger concern is surviving the demons.” Chase drew in a breath to work past Peddle’s criticism. “We can’t hide from this crap by pretending life’s still all business as usual. You need to stop being a chickenshit and start acting like a man.”
Peddle’s face flashed a sizzling red. “You don’t know me at all.”
Chase busted out with a nasty laugh.
“All I really need to know is that you’re a fricking liability.”
Peddle shot to his feet, his fists balled shut.
“If that’s the way you want to be, then by all means call the cops and have me arrested. I’m sure you’ll fail in pressing charges against me just because I give a damn about my business. Oh, right. You can’t call the cops. They’re demons now, too.”
Dang Peddle had a point, the ass. The cops were in no capacity to respond to the crisis at hand. Chase yanked out his phone and tried to dial up a couple of military friends to see if any of them had dealt with all the demon crap. He found no luck as his phone failed yet again in finding a signal. Just to make absolutely sure, he tried his folks’ number again. Still nothing.
“Damn it!” said Chase.
At that moment, Simon returned with a jumbo bag of cheesy chips and three cans of soda. At least the group could satisfy their hunger for the time being, even if the shadowy voice inside Chase’s skull started to throb again, once more beckoning him to surrender to his most primal desires. Chase smacked his palm against his forehead a few times before accepting Simon’s food.
“Diet and caffeine-free?” Peddle scrunched his nose at the choice of soda.
“It’s all we had,” Simon said, cracking open his own can.
Chase smirked. At least Simon was being proactive about survival, even if the only resources immediately available were chips and soda. There had to be something else in the neighborhood for food, especially if circumstances changed and Chase found himself sticking around much longer.
Their supply of cheesy chips lasted maybe ten minutes, if that. Chase went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands of the orange residue left behind, scrubbing each finger until not a single crumb remained.
When he returned, he found Peddle and Simon arguing over whose fault the present situation was. Ignoring the blame game volley session between the other two, he stepped back over to the window, honing his sight to make out as much as possible in the nightfall. At least the storm seemed to have slowed Helensview’s demon problem for now.
A sudden thump against the front door at once dismissed the thought. Chase removed his .9mm and aimed it squarely at the door. The doorknob rattled. Chase could hear Peddle and Simon sifting about behind him to another room in the house. Hopefully they’d lay low and stop bickering until after this was over.
The door flew open and slammed against the wall, the top hinge coming undone. Two figures emerged from the dark, slowly moving toward Chase. Without thinking, he darted to the far side of the room, then turned and squeezed the trigger twice. Screams filled the air as two thuds struck the floor at about the same time. At first it didn’t occur to him that the cries lacked a distinct shrillness. Had he just blasted two more survivors away?
His ears caught hysterical shouting and sobbing from one. Chase’s eyes drifted from the weeper, Brittany, to the raging eyes of his brother.
“So now you shoot at family, Chase?” Dylan asked, wincing. He clasped his shoulder as blood seeped away from the wound where a bullet had just gotten lodged.
Chase just stood there in stunned silence, unable to wrap his brain around the fact that he’d shot Dylan.
What would Ma and Pa say about that?