Dark Incarnate - Chapter10 Book1

Dark Incarnate 

By Mr. Black

Chapter 10
The Jig Is Up

Home... there should be a different word for Billy's house.  His father was usually drunk and his mother had split years ago leaving him and his older brother to fend for themselves like a couple of raggedy bear cubs, and Billy was the runt of the litter.  The small farm only had a few animals left but no lack of chores.  Billy’s dad, Butch Mason, loved to assign these from this throne in front of the small TV without so much as turning his head.  His brother Josh was the real problem though. 

What would Josh have to say about Billy’s absence over the past few days?  At least he had chosen the right direction, on the right track, so to speak.  Josh was seven years older, but that's all he was.  School hadn’t been much more than a training camp for Josh on how to avoid work.  So now, even though Billy was still in school, Josh managed to divert most of those chores at him.  Both boys knew they were really alone in the world and Josh tried to play the father figure to Billy.  He would always say, “builds character” or “it’ll put hair on you’re chest and make you shed water like a duck” whenever Billy got the short end of the stick.  It might have even worked; Billy was in desperate need of a role model.  But Josh didn’t even have a job beyond bossing his younger brother around, and was an example of what not to do. 

Billy passed the old train station; the place gave him the creeps.  The yard had been cut right out of the mountain side.  The old boarded up mine shafts were cut deep into the far rock face and several coal piles larger than his house waited for trains that would never come.  It was the place of his nightmares.  Part of it was an irrational fear of the unknown but given the option, Billy would rather leave those depths to the unknown.  His Dad used to send him up here to collect the coal for the woodstove.  Billy wasn’t more than six or seven at the time.  Josh squirmed out of the duty as usual.  One night Billy set out a little too late at dusk.  He got scared as most young boys would have and lost his coal running the whole way back.  He had heard a sound he didn’t recognize and his imagination created shadows that didn’t exist.  The darkness scared the hell out of him.  He took a few beatings over the years but refused to go back.  In reality it had only been a fox.  His first night at Kelly’s was also the first time he’d slept without a nightlight, and even then a streetlamp glowed through the curtains. 

If he was seen coming from the old tracks it would really get in interrogated so he cut through the thick pines and came to the blacktop.  The Mason Farm mailbox barely stood vertical marking the drive.  With his head hung low, Billy plodded up the pitted and washed out driveway like a dead man walking.

In this part of the state a good gravel driveway was a luxury.  His grandfather almost had their drive paved back when times were good, almost.  The Appalachian Mountains sent a deluge of water runoff every spring that devastated anything that wasn’t pavement.  Not that pavement was immune to the rock and mud slides, but without it the Mason drive was nothing but deep cutouts and slick red mud.  It had been years since the drive had seen any new gravel and rode more like an obstacle course than anything a normal vehicle could traverse.  As far as Mason Sr. was concerned it helped ward off the dreaded Tax Man.

Billy came to the old barn first, the ailing two story shack and fences barely stood.  He shivered at the sight.  Being away for a few days was nice and being with Kelly was heavenly, but the harsh reality began to set in again.  Leaning against an old twisted fence post he propped a foot on the rusty barbed wire daydreaming about how things used to be. 

When he was young the land was beautiful, fertile, and full of hope and possibility.  His family reached way back to the Revolution.  His forefathers bought the land back when land ownership was the measure of the man.  The rough terrain was bought cheap too.  He had heard stories, more from his grandfather than his father, about how the Mason tobacco helped win the war.  He'd even seen an old brown picture of a lake on the property.  The natural spring still ran through the gully, but the glory days were long gone.

He shifted uneasily looking up at heavy clouds and the approaching night.  The grey wood of the barn haunted the land like an evil old hunch-backed witch.  The farm was nothing but a mud-hole of twisted brush now.  The old irrigation channels and runoff steams were clogged and would need nothing short of a team running a back-hoe and chainsaws to clear.

Billy knew it was painful, like using a drug but the memories were too strong.  His grandfather had been teaching him to ride a horse in the field just to his left.  It was hard to believe.  The tall hay and blue grass would ripple in the wind like the ocean.  It was all beaten down or choked out by the briars and tuffs of malflora rose now.  It was really called multiflora, but Papaw Mason always malflora.  The stuff was thick, strong, and grew with amazing speed in huge arches taller than he stood, and the roots spread like wildfire underground.  The only way you could really kill it was to burn it out.  The roots would either send up new shoots or the stumps would sprout new growth the next year if you didn’t spray poison after clearing them.  Poison would only work after cutting; if you just sprayed the thick woody vines would laugh it off only browning a little.

Billy had learned one of the guiding principals of his life just a stones throw away, but it was a lifetime away.  Maybe it was being with Kelly, but reminiscing felt sweeter than usual.  He and his Grandfather had been riding horses, and somehow he had fallen off and got the wind knocked out of him.  Before he could take a breath his Grandfather grabbed him up directing him back onto the horse.  Billy wasn't sure what to make of it, maybe if he didn't get back on the horse would run off or worse it could step on him!  He hadn't taken time to feel pain or even wipe the trickle of blood from his split nose, he just got back on.  He looked over curious at his Grandfather, who just stood smiling up at him.  "I'm proud of you Billy, sometimes we fall and you just gotta pick yourself up and ride on.  You did great." He had slid his cowboy boot in his stirrup and leapt up onto the horse just as natural as breathing and reached to pat Billy on the back, "Remember that, and you'll make a fine man one day."

Papaw Mason was probably one of the only people on earth who had ever believed in Billy, and when died of colon cancer less than a year later, it ripped his heart out.  Billy didn't understand much about cancer, but imagined it was like malfloura rose.

Sometimes, you just gotta pick yourself up and ride on.  His eyes welled and he started to tear up.

He heard yelling in the house around the bend.  His brother would be furious; Billy knew he'd better not waste any more daylight, and snuck around the bend to the house.  He slipped in the back door and grabbed his rubber boots and headed out to the barn to try and make amends.  As he slid out the door he heard them again arguing in the kitchen about him.  Maybe they thought he was gone for good?

Around back of the barn stood an old grain silo, the roof had long since fallen in.  The eerie block structure stood empty and almost three stories tall and leaned like the tower of Pisa.  It was another artifact of the old days standing in defiance of the times.  The muddy floor was a good ten feet below the ground.  How many animals could that thing have fed?  He couldn't help but look inside every time he passed.  When he was young he used to throw stones and rocks in just to hear the plop in the muck floor and giggle at the messy eco that raced up and out of the top.

He climbed up a rickety ladder that would probably be his death one day into the hay loft which was yet another death trap.  The tin roof of the barn had weathered too many storms without proper care and leaked like sieve.  The floor of the loft caught most of the leaks and had more rotten spots than solid ones.  Long years of practice and careful footing kept him safe as he dropped hay down chutes to the animals below.  He loved to come up here.  It was his secret place.

Papaw Mason had raised cattle for slaughter when the barn was built, but piece by piece the land was sold off to the railroad in the coal years and now they barely had land for a few pigs, a couple of milk cows, and one stubborn mule.  Chickens had once roamed freely but when the coal mines shut down, and the railroad went silent, either wolves or coyotes had moved down out of the mountains.  His father told him they lived where the old train switchboard used to be.  Billy didn't like thinking about wolves and coyotes.  They couldn’t get into his loft though.

He looked down though a chute at the poor mule, his stall was a mess; he didn't know how many years it’d been since the beast had seen a Ferrier.  Billy went for the pooper-scooper, a kid name for the pitchfork that just stuck, and wheelbarrow to clean the stall.  They didn't have much for proper stall care, the last load of sawdust ended when the driver got stuck in the driveway, but pine needles worked well enough.

Kelly turned so she could keep an eye on the drain.  Every move she made caused a small flush of cool water to release.  The warm shower was a relaxing contrast.  It didn't take long for the fear and adrenaline to wear off and she couldn't stop the waves shaking and crying.  Her soft sobs and scrunched face couldn't begin to express the true nature of how she felt.  She knew she was in shock, and maybe knowing would be enough to get her through it.

Her mind refused to believe the nightmare of what had happened.  She forced herself calm with deep breaths, which also helped water drain out of her system.  It wouldn't let her forget, it wouldn't let her calm down.  As soon as she stopped sobbing another painful reminder of the violation would trickle out and she would clench up again.  Nothing was safe or sacred to this darkness, this pure evil.  She could have died!  How could they have ever dreamed to control such a thing?  Her body was rocked by harsher and harsher convulsions as she lost the battle to calm herself and she nearly doubled over, followed by more cold water.  Why was it so cold?  Wouldn't her body have warmed it by now?  What had that thing done to her?  She searched her feelings, but where she had understood it before, she felt nothing.  Her mind went to the small pink worm and then to Candace; how could they have been so stupid?  Kelly's stomach was still bloated and she pressed just below her ribs.  "Anything," she sobbed "I'll do anything just get it out!"  Her tiny sphincter relaxed allowing the cold essence to flood the basin of the tub yet again.  It made sense to her subconscious but not to her frantic state: cold, the absence of warmth; darkness, the absence of light.  What had it done to her?  She couldn't stop asking, over and over again the question replayed in her mind.  Worst of all, there was no way of knowing, no way to be sure.

She tried to stand.  The hot shower made it easier because she couldn't see her own tears.  Gravity helped the exodus of evil too.  Cool streams mixed with the warm shower trailing down her shaking legs.  The bathroom and shower had always been a place of comfort; it was small and eternally warm thanks to a furnace vent next to the door.  The vent was too much for the one room, but felt great.  She found no comfort today and maybe never again.  She stared at the drain.  The water swirled and disappeared, but it would be so easy for the monster to disguise itself in that.

She had to check, wondering if the thing had hurt her.  She didn't feel pain, still a little boated but no pain.  She couldn't help but worry.  A small finger slid between her swollen and clammy lips, another reminder of how rough the attack had been.  She probed and felt the tightness of her virginity, still intact.  Maybe Candace was right, but how was that possible?  It implied a greater intelligence and prescience that she didn't want to understand or believe.  If Candace was right, the shadow had been playing them both like an instrument, but why?

Kelly reached around and slid her hand down her firm butt probing the tiny clenched orifice.  Her skin was inflamed and warm to the touch.  The thing had used her so violently, wielded her body like an empty vessel.  She didn't want to do this; she was exhausted and wanted more than anything to curl up in her bed and cry herself to sleep.  But how could she sleep unless she got it all out?  She wanted Candace too.  Thinking of all the things Candace endured gave her strength, and she finally forced her finger in.  She found a reservoir of cool water inside and closed her eyes trying to relax and push using her finger to assist.  So much of the monster had forced itself upon her how easily it could have split off and remained inside.  Maybe an x-ray could tell.  Her eyes went wide at the prospect.  A doctor sliding the black negative into the light and pointing to an odd foreign blob that shouldn’t be there brought fresh sobs.

Kelly stopped and pulled her finger free.  She couldn't allow herself to think like that, she had always felt It before, and this attack hadn't changed that.  The fact that she felt nothing meant that there was nothing to feel.  That was final.  Its cry washing down the drain had been the end.  Those thoughts lead nowhere.  She had to push on, continue with her life.  She couldn't let it continue to hurt her.

Soon enough, the room smelled of honeysuckle and rosehips as she washed her hair and body.  A few more icy reminders flooded down her legs as she soaped up, but she forced herself on.  She dried and plopped down on the toilet.  The natural position helped a few more dribbles escape.  She wanted to call Candace but it was way too late, though she didn't know exactly what time it was.  Her eyes burned and felt heavy enough that she didn't have to know.  She stood up to scared to look, but the water was clean as she flushed anyway.

She stumbled off on weak legs to her bedroom and slid the panties on she had previously discarded.  Climbing under the warm covers she finally felt safe again.  Falling to sleep a little too quickly she shuddered awake fearing the monsters down the hall.  Soon she went under the velvet blanket of peace and quiet sleeping exhausted and without dreams.

Miles away Candace threw her leg over a body pillow falling back to sleep.  A very unnatural stir woke her up.  She lied to herself and said it was a gas pain or a hunger groan, but she felt it again and her hand cupped the small of her tummy.  She was glad her father hadn't come to visit her.  Something was up with him he was never this quiet, but she wasn't going to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

The tiny larva had been injected directly into her womb.  The ovipositors que was when it felt the tightness of her cervix.  The simple creature knew only its purpose and desperately wanted to mix with her DNA, but Candace was barren.  Dear ol’ dad had made sure she wouldn’t have any unwanted accidents a long time ago.  The supernatural life-force of the creature sustained it, drawing its energy from the girl.  It was restless and confused.

Billy was the only one who didn't sleep easy.  His mind was wrought with worry.  His Dad hadn't whooped him for being gone and hadn’t bothered with the where or whys.  Maybe he was too drunk to notice or care.  Or maybe he was sober?  Billy had only seen Mason Sr. sober on rare occasions, and the prospect of the unknown scared him.  On the other hand he knew his brother was plotting some sort of revenge.  He'd better be home for the next few weeks, or make plans to stay gone.  A pass like this didn't happen often.  He also knew he couldn't leave Kelly anymore than you could tell a bird not to fly.

The night was dreadfully long.  The hazy summer heat was unbearable and in a month school would be out.  An early heat wave was putting a strain on the power company because of all the air conditioners, but Billy's house wasn't a part of that.  It was four or five AM before the room cooled enough that he could drift off where he had restless dreams.

His sheets were stained with sweat when his brother Josh woke him the next morning.  "Geeet up Biilly!  We got work to-do” Billy tried to roll back over on his damp pillow and ignore it.  There wasn't anything to do; he'd seen to it last night.

"I said get up!" he grabbed the sheet and slung it across the room revealing Billy's naked body and caused him to recoil.  Josh wasn’t a homosexual but he made Billy feel uncomfortable a little too often.  Sometimes Billy would be in the shower or changing clothes and Josh would barge in.  Maybe he didn’t notice or care, or maybe Billy was the weird one for feeling uncomfortable, but it seemed him that Josh would go out of his way to be around at those times.  "Dad said you're not going to school today.  We got to work the fences."

"No!"  Billy didn't know any other way to respond.  He had unconsciously pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.

"You better get your ass up and get dressed!  While yur here under this roof you better do as you're told.  Now get up and get dressed.  I'm moving the pigs and you better be workin on that pen when I get dun!"

He had been caught off guard and half asleep but it didn't matter he had to see Kelly, something was wrong he knew it.  "I'm going to school and I'll work on it when I get back."

His brother was halfway out of the room and slowly turned; he'd never heard Billy backtalk like that.  He took large strides to where his brother sat on the bed.  His eyes were on fire when he swung a balled fist wide and crashed it against Billy’s face like a lead cannon ball.  Billy was knocked to the scuffed hardwood floor.  "Now you got a black eye and if you don't want another, you- BETTER GET TO FUCKIN WORK!" He screamed loud enough to make his own ears ring.

Kelly reached to silence her alarm but she felt like she'd been run over by a truck during the night.  She had never been so sore, every muscle in her body ached.  She felt pretty good considering what had happened.  Years back in elementary PE she'd learned that a good workout released endorphins, what they called 'feel good stuffs', but she never thought it'd apply to wrestling a water monster.

She elected to hit the snooze, but it was a waste.  Five minutes felt like five seconds, and it didn't even do anything for your tired body.  It just made you feel better about not getting up, and the alarm went off again just teasing.  It didn't matter, she hit it again.  And again.  Finally she silenced it, but didn't get up.  She rolled back over to give herself a personal snooze timer with a promise to just lay there for a second. Just a second.

Her body woke her up just under an hour later, she had to pee.  There was no snooze for that, lucky thing, because she only had a few minutes before she had to be at the bus stop.  The thought of skipping came to mind, but her friends would be worried sick if she didn’t show.  Her friends…  What would she tell them about the attack?  Candace would understand, but she really would rather not have that conversation with Billy, him and his little notebook of events.

She crept up to the bathroom door, feeling entirely too naked in nothing but panties.  Peeking around the door she saw everything looked in order.  Her poor smiley t-shirt was crumpled in a wet puddle on the floor.  Not trusting the trail of water that leaked from it she got some toilet paper and relaxed as it soaked up.   The creature hadn't soaked into anything but her.  She didn't trust the toilet water either.  She wanted to cry again, and felt a deep shiver of pain and fear welling deep inside.  The creature had cried out and disappeared down the drain, but she couldn't trust that it was really gone.  She hovered precariously inches above the seat and finally let go, still keeping a watchful eye on the water between her legs.  A smile touched her lips as she thought of Beverly Marsh from "IT," she didn't trust the drains either.  She wiped and stood back up.  Beverly and her friends ended up miles under Derry’s ancient sewer system fighting a real nightmare with a sling shot and silver dollars... hopefully it wouldn't come to that.  Kelly had her first laugh.  The soft chuckles made her feel a thousand times better as she remembered the time, and ran to her room to dress.

At least her clothes were clean.  Maybe it was the familiar wrinkled and jumbled state of her underwear drawer, but she felt bad for being so mean to Billy.  What did she expect; he'd wear welder’s goggles and gloves while washing her clothes?  She grabbed her favorite pair of panties; light blue and not too tight and not too loose.  The spandex on some would bite and drive her nuts all day, but this pair was perfect.  It was supposed to be hot this week, but she wasn't wearing anything but jeans for a while.  She chose light and breezy spaghetti strap black top so she wouldn’t die.  Spaghetti straps were technically against school dress code, but they only cared about skirt length.  Almost as important as her panties she was glad to have clean socks again; she grabbed some anklets and her pink tennis shoes and leaped down stairs two and three at a time.

If she'd gotten up in time she could have had that bacon.  Her face wrinkled in disgust as she pulled the droopy package out of the sink and tossed it back in the fridge.  A groan rumbled through her stomach, maybe when she got home.  Who was she kidding, she was absolutely starving!  Her bus barely got to school on time, but she had to have some breakfast.  Mrs. Francis would just have to wait until she got something to eat.  She raced out the front door seeing the bus pull up and not even taking the time to lock the door back.  The morning air was hot humid breath.  During the night a light rain wet the ground.  She got to the bus as it started to roll off but the driver saw her and took her seat over the wheel hub.  Her hunger groaned again and was almost as bad a reminder of what had emptied her stomach.  Kelly was aware that she was completely empty.

The late bell rang when she approached the lunch line.  Miss Patty was just locking up her register when she saw Kelly.  "Oh dear, I'm sorry we can't serve after the bell.  Too many students were skipping don’cha know."

Kelly pouted her lips and tossed her head to the side like she’d done to her father a thousand times, "Please I'll take it to class, I'm already late and I'm starving..."

"I've already closed out my register dearie..." The old lunch lady couldn't stand the sight of the sad little girl, "Well alright, just grab something and hurry onto class."  Her old wrinkled face tilted with a warm smile.  Kelly smiled back, somehow old ladies just knew.  Old-lady-scense.

She didn't have to be told twice, and ducked under the half closed gate and grabbed a bagel.  She started to dig for money but Miss Patty just waved her off. Kelly jogged to class.  Rounding the last bend, down the walkway-to-nowhere, Kelly saw Mr. Higgins the school resource officer standing at the far end in full black cop uniform.  He usually wore something light and sometimes funny but he was all official today.  Kelly secretly thought he adopted the Hawaiian shirts as a reflection of her father's silly smiley t-shirt.  She almost jumped for joy, Candace must have came forward.

"Ahhh, there you are.  I've been looking for you." He had been waiting outside for half an hour.  He didn't like Mrs. Francis anyway; something about her face reminded him of an evil old bird, a Skeksi to be precise.  "Please come with me Ms. Evans."

Her heart sank her last name?  Why didn't he just call her Kelly, he knew her well enough.  Someone's found out about the monsters in her apartment; she was sure of it.  Maybe the water creature attacked someone else, and they linked it back to her somehow... it didn’t make any real sense but neither did Officer Higgins presence.  His face was too stern and she knew whatever he had to say wouldn’t be good.  He hadn’t been with the other Officers that came to tell her about her parent’s accident, but he seemed to carry the same weight now.  Had something happened to Candace? 

"Wa-What's this... about?"

"Just follow me please." His face was cold, almost pained.

She was scared to death, but not seeing any way out she followed him.  Mr. Higgins turned toward the empty side of the walkway, to the small forest.  Her heart screamed for her to run, but she didn't have anywhere to go.  She looked frantically side to side, if she could just see Candace or Billy; if she had just gotten to class in time, she would know, or they might tell her.  They were probably worried sick as soon as the bell rang.  But maybe they were already being interrogated, or worse.  A hundred dreadful things coursed through her.

Reluctantly she followed the officer and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned at the edge of the building.  His unmarked Crown-Vic was parked just up a short embankment around the corner.  He paused and waited for her to go first, and popped the back door with keyless entry when she got close.  This was it; she was going to be disappeared to a government lab.

She turned and threw her bagel like a Frisbee, smiling as it skidded onto the concrete at the end of the walkway.  Maybe her friends would find it...  She had to hope.

"Let's go..." he took her backpack off and cupped the top of her head helping her into the car and closed the door.

The backseat was a cage, and it looked like it was built for an animal; a plastic mould like a carnival ride but without the fun.  The car bounced as Higgins added his weight to the driver’s seat.

"Can you just tell me what's going on?"  She pleaded through the glass not sure how much of her voice got through to the officer.  He wasn't Mr. Higgins anymore, not the man she knew anyway.

"I'd think you should know."

Kelly's eyes were crazed and darted around the car.  She patted her small hands onto the glass trying to get his attention, "Please..." Her hands left smudges on the glass. 

He was silent and put the car in drive speeding off the school campus.  Kelly watched helplessly as her life got further and further away.  She was terrified.  He wasn't driving for the police station or her apartment.  He pulled onto a small two lane winding road thick with evergreen pines on both sides.  "Where are you taking ME?"  She started to scream and lunged from side to side trying to find something recognizable on the mysterious road.  But he drove on like a robot.  He wouldn't even look in the rearview to see her.  He'd had sworn and oath to protect the weak and serve the innocent, and if he looked into her eyes he knew he'd fall apart.

After an eternity of steep winding road, he turned off and started down an even smaller road.  The industrial drive opened into a vast oval clearing over a mile long.  One side a sheer rock face while the rest was a wall of solid pines.  The ground was filled with criss-crossing train tracks and covered with pine needles.  The clearing was so vast the far forest was foggy and opaque in the humidity.  Kelly had no idea where she was, or what was about to happen.  If this was some sort of secret government installation it was the best hidden and kept secret she could imagine.  The place looked deserted.  Only one lone abandoned building stood off-center in the clearing.  Dead pine needles skittered across the ground and the long scrubby grass waved as the car passed.  Wherever this was, nothing had been here for a long time.

After the car bumped over several tracks they stopped at the deserted building.  A pristine white van was parked around the corner; it had Tennessee tags.  Mr. Higgins got out and walked around the side.  The building was impressive.  It must have been the switchboard for the old trains that ran through the area.  Only the tracks lead in and out clearing. She'd have to make a run for it, disappear into the trees.  Circling back she could follow the tracks easily enough; she just had to make that treeline.  The small road they drove in on had already disappeared, not that she would have found any help on it.  She sat back in the uncomfortable seat; she'd have to wait for the doors to open before she could try.  If she looked complacent maybe she'd have a chance. 

Mr. Higgins walked back into sight looking down at his shoes while another man patted him on the back.  Tom Chambers followed close behind and opened the back doors to the van and handed Mr. Higgins a small key.  Kelly recognized it as a post office box key; her Aunt had a million of em, and she recognized the funny corners.  The two men shook hands and started for the car.  Mr. Higgins put the key in his front breast picket beside his badge.

Higgins seemed reluctant, and only stood by the far door as Tom took Kelly's arm pulling her out.  As soon as she was out of his car, the officer didn't waste any time peeling out of the yard bounding harshly over the tracks and disappearing out through the obscure driveway.

Tom held his captive for a moment watching him leave.  "I tried to tell you..."  Kelly just looked down at her shuffling feet weakly waiting for her chance.  He jerked her flailing arm toward the van but turned to the abandoned terminal door.  "Ya know, I bought that Higgins man pretty cheap." Kelly stayed calm biding her time still looking down at her shoes.  He wanted to gloat, to drink her fear.  He lifted her chin to look into her soft brown eyes.  "He was a friend of your dad’s right?"  Her eyes flared and she spit in his face.  "That's more like it," and he licked the spittle off his lips.  She was strong and lively, a deeper part of Tom felt a rush at the sight.  She felt him too, felt his darkness again, felt his vampiric desire to drain her like a battery.

Kelly took her shot when he reached for the door, twisting and jumping with both feet she broke free.  Stumbling on the loose pine needles she scrambled away and around the corner kicking up tuffs of needles.  Tom laughed; he knew she would never reach the forest in time.  He leisurely walked up and opened the passenger side door to the van where Buster sat patiently.  "Get-em-boy!" and he snapped his fingers and pointed in her direction.  Buster flew out of the van and sniffed at the ground were the car had been before he noticing the fleeing girl.  He shot at her like a bullet after treading needles for a second too.

Kelly heard the galloping dog gaining on her, and looking over her shoulder; she recognized Candace's dog.  She ran with everything she had.  Her pumping legs were already sore with fatigue and her lungs gulped air.  Her father had told her never to go with a stranger, but he went further than most parents on the subject.  Anytime something bad happens there's a crime scene, and sometimes there's two crime scenes.  The second is always worse than the first and usually the last thing a victim sees.  She knew that whatever was in that abandoned building, it was the second crime scene.  She had been tricked and kidnapped by the cop from the first.  How could she have known?  She knew Tom was evil and her fear drove her harder but her shoes stumbled over the railroad ties and tracks.  She couldn't outrun the dog, and she knew it.  Why had Tom sent him, was he going to attack her?

Kelly stopped and turned, maybe Buster would remember her.  His face was determined and his lean figure moved like a fish in water.  She bent and called to him, but he didn't seem the same.  She thought he would run into her, but he snapped at her leg as he passed.  If her jeans weren't loose he would have taken her leg off.  Would Tom rather kill her than be caught?  It was possible.  The dogs running momentum swung him around and jerked her leg out from under her.  She screamed as she went down.  Buster began viciously barking and growling at her face.  She couldn't bear to look and curled into a fetal ball.

Tom calmly walked over, slow deliberate and calm as ever.  It had been a while since Busters last roundup with Candace, but he was trained well.  He arrived and picked the girl up by the waist like a sack of feed and carried her back under his arm.  Kelly was scared now.  More than just scared, she was terrified for her life.  She couldn't have guessed what was waiting for her inside, but knew that she may never see the light of day again. She kicked and screamed, finally giving over the frantic struggles.  Her mind left her and she became a bird caught in a net.

Before the move to West Virginia, Kelly had climbed into her Dad’s chair at his big desk in the study.  If he caught in here he’d kill her for sure.  He spent hours pouring over cases and paperwork and wouldn’t even let her come in to say goodnight, she had to wait at the door.  She didn’t understand why they had to move.  Atlanta was great!  Why did they have to go to the middle of nowhere?  An old brown envelop sat at the center of the desk.  He had been looking at it recently.  Maybe she could understand…

     ‘A complete model and psychological profile of the death fetishist does not exist.  The compulsion is a result of a complex misplacement of values, and a deviation of cultural norms and social mores.  He is more likely to be white male and average to above average intelligence.  Cases of fetishists of with IQ’s over 150 have been documented. 

     The progression of pathology can be traced from the fantasy stage to the eventual acting out of fetishistic impulses, including opportunistic homicide.  Agent Evans believes strongly that the suspect in this case is escalating towards this action.  Once he begins to murder, it is the killing that draws attention away from a deeper motive.  A motive which, most people including Law Enforcement professionals dare not imagine.  It is somehow easier to believe as Agent Fox does, in Aliens and Demons than in the kind of cold blooded inhuman monster that will prey on the living to desecrate the dead.
     Death is a recorded event.  For reasons natural or un-natural when a body ceases to function, the cause of the effect can clearly be reconstructed.  A body has a story to tell.  If a victim was strangled an examination of the veins in the eyes will reveal this.  If the victim was shot entry wounds and gunpowder residue can be used to reconstruct the events leading to death and help to establish a possible motive.  Hair and fibers, slivers of glass, plastic, even insect casings can serve to recreate the circumstances under which death occurred. 
     It may be an irony only understood by those of us who do these examinations, that death like life itself is a drama with a beginning, middle, and end.  It is my opinion having conducted this examination that the victim died a wrongful death with the expressed purpose of preparing the body prior death for post mortem intercourse with the corpse.  The time of death cannot be accurately determined, due to what I believe must have been immersion in a cold environment mostly likely water.
     For the record it is also my opinion that outside of child homicide, which may be more tragic and heinous, this is one of the most angry and dehumanizing murders imaginable. 

She hadn’t understood much of what it then, but the words were clear now.  Her dad a fought the terrible and grotesque and wanted a safe quite life for his daughter.  Ironic.

This Is a Work of Fiction

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.