storm.
The house barely separated them from the storm, and the men’s emotions were as tied to it as they were to the poker game. The men’s nostrils flared, their pupils dilated. The card game had lost any semblance of pleasure or pastime, turning instead to a heated competition for nothing other than winning.
Outside the late afternoon was being torn open by a huge thunderhead passing over, it’s trademark anvil flat across the top, occasionally revealed by flashes of lightning from within the massive rain making machine. It was enormous; a force of sheer, unadulterated nature. Bursts of blue, purple, yellow, and white ripped through the clouds as muffled lightning flashed within. The ground strikes were terrible. Trees ripped and split, and the earth shook. Smoke indicated the start of a possible fire in the distance. It was a night for being indoors, and the house barely gave them a sense of this. Fear was a smell on them as strong as the fish from earlier in the day.
The tension amongst the players was palpable. Poker and drunkenness was the order of the evening. The stocky man, silent. The fat man, holding forth on all things from fishing to photography, and the short, thin, dark man served as the fat man’s foil at times, and at others as his nemesis of sorts. Last card down and dirty. All three men were silent as they surveyed their lots. The thin dark man felt confident, although his last card hadn’t helped. He’d been hoping for a full house, but would settle for two pair; aces and eights. He chuckled to himself.
In the corner, huddled in a chair, sat a boy with his legs drawn up so his knees nearly covered his freckled face. His hair, a shock of auburn thick as horsehair, stood up matted and greasy. His face was smudged with food and dirt. His dark eyes, a gloss cobalt, glowed bright with fear. Each peel of thunder sent a shudder through him that shook him from the ends of his hair to the tips of his fingers that were dug into his thighs where they served to help his arms bind his legs to his body in a seated fetal position. His eyes shown at the men. Sometimes they looked down only to shoot up to lock onto one of the men who happened to speak. The clothing he wore was not dirty or even very old, but was too small for him. Seated like this, the pant legs were at mid-calf, and couldn’t have come anywhere near the floor if he was standing. His tee shirt was tight, bound around his boy frame and the arms rode up nearly to his spare shoulders. The men seemed to be completely unaware of his presence.
Lightning struck a tall pine not 40 yards from the house. The instinctively hunched their shoulders and leaned forwards as if ducking from an angry hornet. The air crackled first, a hideous sparking sound like giant angry hornets about to strike, then a crack that shook the house like a cat shakes a mouse to death. The light and the sound hit at the same time, spanking them and the house like an angry tyrant punishing a truant child. Blinding light filled the house. One of the men - the fat, red faced one - jumped up from the table, as if being angry at the weather would blow it down, his drunkenness emboldening him.
“God damn this place!”
The drunkest of the three, a thin, dark angry man with tobacco at the corners of his mouth, laughed, rolled his head back.
“I think he already has.”
A knock on the door jerked the three men’s attention away from the game and their dispute.
“Who is it?” the thin man asked, squinting at the window near the door. The rain clouds had moved in, and it was nearly as dark outside as within. “Who the hell is out in this?”
“How the hell should I know?” the fat man responded, rising and going to the door. Opening it, he saw two boys in their late teens, clothes soaked from the rain.
“Yeah?” the fat man said, more a statement of annoyance than a question of any sorts.
“We’re having engine trouble. Do you have any gas?” the tallest of the boys asked.
“Does this look like a goddamn gas station?!” the fat man leered at the boy. The largest boy’s eyes, dark brown, did not blink.
“Get the hell out of here.” The man said dismissively, swinging the door to. The boy’s foot stopped the door from closing. Turning the man saw the door open again.
Chuck Neigless knew well enough that his larger, older friend Jay would not react well to this. Whether it was the weather, the bad luck with the boat, the beer, or a combination of all of the above, something set the older boy off in ways that even Chuck did not expect. The older boy’s eyes dead set black holes, he lunged forward with a palm to the fat man’s nose, producing a sick, dull crunch as most of the bone of the nose pushed wetly into his brain. The man’s eyes rolled back and he dropped to the floor. The skinny man, seeing this, leapt to his feet, but not before the enraged teen was on him. In one swift movement, he’d picked up a baseball bat near the door and swung it deftly through the air at the man’s head. Missing, he struck his neck at the base of his skull, and a sharp crack sounded as the man’s neck broke. He lay gurgling on the ground in another instant. The large teen jumped over the table at the other man who had tried to rush to his friend’s defense, but was no match for the youth’s speed and strength. Two blows to the head left the man’s skull crushed. Meanwhile, the boy, screaming wildly jumped at him like an animal. The teen simply held him off for a second, shocked at the strength and speed of the boy, and nearly bettered by it. But within two seconds, he had the boy face down on the floor, twisting his arms up behind him.
“Help me, goddamn it!” The oldest boy screamed at the other. Chuck Neigless was transfixed, rooted to the spot in horror.
“Goddamnit!” The large teen began, but the boy had taken advantage of his having turned his attention for a moment away from him, and rolled with almost supernatural speed and strength under him and locked his long fingers on his throat. The teen choked, then lurched and somehow got two horrible blows in on the boy’s head with his fists. The boy moaned, breathed sharply, then fell unconscious or dead. The hulking teen turned a baleful look at Neiglress and spoke with a terrifying calm.
“Get those chains over there and bring ‘em here…” Chuck Neigless obeyed. In horror, he watched as the maddened teen lashed the boy’s ankles with the chains, then nailed the other ends to the wall studs with huge dock nails laying on the counter. Suddenly, with deadly speed, the boy regained consciousness and lunged at the nearest of them. Then, suddenly calm, almost composed, he swung the bat at the boy’s head, producing a sound that would ring in Chuck Neigless’s ears for the rest of his life. With hideous calm, the larger teen turned to his terrified companion and said “We have some burying to do…”
Chuck Neigless then saw for the first time the dead place behind his long time friend’s eyes; a place that remained hidden, but only just. He would never forget those eyes. Shaking, he backed away.
Outside, rain sought to bury the house, surround it in water and mist, seal it in, lightning illuminated the tableau, and thunder sought to drown out the noise of shovels and bodies being moved.
Jay
Tanner felt his eyes fill with tears as the figure came into view. His uncle Jay stood looking at him impassively. This was a nightmare. His uncle had a length of hose in this right hand, gripped tightly.
“I’m sorry, man, but I tried to warn you off.” Jay said as he stood in the doorway, his voice calm, almost sympathetic. “You already know way too much.” His face was sad, but his eyes looked as they never have looked before to Tanner. Wider, almost with an appearance of surprise. The pupils gaped, revealing deep holes into a dead soul. Tanner saw a man in there that he had never seen before. Jay lowered his head and smiled, very slowly, laughing very quietly to himself.
“It’s almost over, bud. I promise I’ll make it quick.”
Tanner struggled to speak, to shout, but a rough cloth tied around his head had gagged him. Jay reacted strangely, covering his ears. Tanner’s muffled shouting seemed to hurt his ears, as he covered them, backing away momentarily, dropping a length of garden hose which hit the floor with a strange heavy thud. Tanner saw that it was taped off on both ends. Tanner stared at it in disbelief. Jay recovered hi
s composure almost immediately, and a new calm seemed to pass over him.
“Why did you have to go there, Tanner? That house has been there asleep for decades. Everything that ever happened there has been lost, gone and forgotten, and you have to take your damn girlfriend there. You had to know, didn’t you?”
“I had to kill them! Kill them!” Jay shouted, crouching, picking up the heavy length of hose, slapping it down hard on the floor with a loud crack and thud. God, it must be full of rocks, Jay thought. His head throbbed as if in answer.
Jay stood and walked to the window. He looked out as if the setting were unfamiliar. Jay saw him blink at the sun a couple of times, and shake his head as if he were hearing something. He turned, looking coolly at Tanner.
“As soon as it’s full dark, we’re going for a little ride.” He said, quietly, almost distracted, barely even looking at Tanner. Tanner looked around and out the window, too, at his uncle’s familiar back porch, outbuildings, circular drive. He was in a room at the back of the house that he’d never been in. He’d always assumed it was a bedroom, but it looked more like another office with desk and chairs. He looked down at the chains, pulling on them. His uncle, hearing the noise, turned to face him.
“You want