The Revenant: A Horror in Dodsville Read online

  Melissa had just left my room five minutes ago. She was a bit frightened, but I convinced her that Sly and I were only a scream away, and would be at her side so quickly that only the breeze generated by our quick movement would knock any intruder to his knees. She laughed and kissed me on the cheek. And now, although she was no longer in my room, I still felt her presence.

  I turned over, pounded the pillow hard a couple of times, and pulled the blankets over my head. The table lamp next to me was brightly lit--and would be the remainder of the night as I had become a bit too chicken, especially with that creepy closet only a few feet away--and I couldn't get to sleep. If I didn't know better I might have said that I was falling in love with Melissa. "But I do know better," I said aloud. "She's Reed's girlfriend." No, she was Reed's girlfriend. Now, she's unattached.

  And with that last thought clinging on my mind like a pesky ivy plant, I gradually drifted off to sleep.

  I dreamed.

  Something or someone was at the foot of my bed to my right, inching closer and closer to my headboard. I couldn't make out its shape, as the room was too dark; it was just a large lump of blackness. A hand--or paw?--slid forward. Something glittered slightly in its grip. What was that? I tried to sit up to get a better look, but I was paralyzed. I wanted to scream; someone had to help me or I would be killed, but my mouth wouldn't open. All I could manage was a faint squeak, like a mouse trapped under a fallen log.

  Something else was in the room. It stepped away from the open closet. Damn, I thought, why didn't I lock it? It moved forward, stepping softly on the carpet so as not to awaken the others. A little more to the right, I thought desperately, and the moonlight shining through the window would strike its face. A step closer. Please, I thought, just let me see it. And then, as if it read my mind and was only too willing to oblige, it took a quick step to the right and stood still. It was Reed, just as I remembered him from the last time I saw him-- eleven years old and full of life.

  It can't be, I thought. You're dead. You drowned a week ago. They buried you.

  And he laughed. Not a boyish laugh, but that of the devil himself.

  A paw covered with slime and dried leaves reached over the mattress and stopped right under my nose. Its fetid stench brought tears to my eyes, but I was helpless to move away. The other paw slid over the mattress, though this one held a shiny knife. It almost seemed to glow in the darkness. The entire room reeked of death.

  The creature stood.

  It's a dog, I thought crazily. It's only a dog.

  But it was not a dog.

  "You like my wolf?" Reed said in a voice much too old and worn for an eleven year old. "I trained him to kill." And he laughed again.

  The eyes of the wolf glowed orange as it raised the knife above its head.

  "Reed, help me," I wanted to shout, but all that came out was a weak croak, that of a dying toad.

  The Reed creature walked up and stood next to the wolf. He shook his head in pity. "Didn't I warn you to stay away from her," he said.

  Don't Reed, I thought. Please!

  Reed turned to his pet and nodded slowly--once. The wolf growled sinisterly and slammed the knife into my chest. I screamed.

  I awoke, soaking wet in my bed, and bolted upright. The room was empty--the table lamp was still on--and the light proved that point beyond a shadow of a doubt. The closet door remained shut with the chair still leaning up against it. "Only a dream," I said aloud, just to make sure I could speak. Then I laughed. "It was only a dream." But it felt so real.

  Someone knocked at my bedroom door, briefly, and flung it wide open before I could respond. Melissa and Tabitha stood just outside in the hallway; their faces lit up with concern.

  "Did you just scream?" Tabitha asked, glancing around my room as if checking for intruders.

  Melissa stepped past her and walked to the foot of my bed. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You're sweating like a pig."

  I tried not to smile, but couldn't help it. She looked so serious. "I had a nightmare," I replied. "I thought I had just screamed in the dream, but I guess--"

  "What's going on?" Sly asked, entering my room. He didn't appear nearly as concerned as the girls as he wiped back his hair from his forehead, and yawned.

  "Stephen just had a nightmare," Tabitha said in disgust and excused herself.

  "Well," Sly said after Tabby had left, "I'm going back to bed now." He pulled his boxer shorts up ridiculously high. "But if I can ever be of heroic help again, you let me know.” He tipped an invisible hat, grinned mischievously, and sidestepped out of sight.

  Melissa sat on the end of my bed. "Seriously now," she said, though she couldn't help a smile. "You sure you’re going to be all right? You've had a pretty rough night."

  "How can I not be all right with all this attention?" I replied. I sat up all the way and leaned my back against the headboard. "It was just a silly nightmare."

  "Want me to stay with you a while?"

  I laughed. "Now you're beginning to sound like my mother," I said, wanting to reach out and pull her under the covers with me. One of her tanned legs stuck out from the night robe she wore, and I couldn't help feeling a little frisky. Then the Reed from the nightmare entered my thoughts, and I felt guilty.

  "You really had me scared when you screamed like that," Melissa said, pulling her robe over her leg as though she had read my mind. "I was certain Randy had gotten in somehow. He really worries me." She paused, and the smile on her face flip-flopped into a frown. "He's dangerous."

  "You know, it's funny you should say that," I said. "Because I didn't fall down any flight of stairs when I hurt my leg."

  Melissa's eyes became white saucers. "Randy did it, didn't he?" she said, finishing my thought. "I should have known he was behind it from the conversation you had with him this afternoon." She slid up the bed a couple of feet. "How'd he do it?"

  I told her about Randy pulling me alongside his truck after the funeral and letting me go on the highway. "I was damn lucky there wasn't a car coming right at that moment from the other direction. Then you'd--" I was going to say that she'd be going to another funeral, but wisely saw the error of my ways. "Then you'd be talking to me in a hospital right now instead of here."

  "Maybe he'll cool off after he realizes Tabitha has really left him for good," she said, without expression. She obviously didn't believe too strongly in what she just said. "Believe it or not," she continued after a second's hesitation, "I have seen him a few times when he actually was a nice guy. First time I met him, I thought he was a real charmer. I'm not sticking up for his actions or anything like that. He was always jealous of somebody taking Tabitha away from him. And then you came along." She grabbed my shin over the blanket. "And you couldn't have picked a worse time."

  "I just hope nobody gets hurt, that's all."

  She stood. "Well, I think I'm going to go back to bed," she said. "If you're all right now."

  "I'm fine," I replied. "I said that a long time ago."

  In my heart I wanted her to stay, but my head told me to just let her go. My head won.

  She kissed me on the cheek--second time tonight, I thought, smiling--and left, closing the door behind her.

  I sank back under my covers, but I lay awake until deep into the night. My thoughts tossed back and forth between my wanting Melissa, and Reed in my nightmare killing me because I had gotten too close to her. By the time I finally fell asleep, dawn had broken the eastern horizon.

  * * *

  Melissa dragged me out of bed just before eight o'clock that morning. "Come on," she said, "I need a tennis partner. Sly and Tabitha are bragging that they can beat us."

  She turned around while I pulled on a pair of shorts. "Did you tell Tabby about what happened last night in the west wing?" I asked, slipping a shirt over my head. My hair was a mess, but I had been dreaming about playing on Mrs. Klaus's clay court since I first saw it. I bounced up and down a few times, testing my bad leg. It would keep me from reaching a few ba
ckhand shots, but I felt like it would carry me through a set or two. The bruise was still brightly visible and would hurt me considerably when the blood began to work its way down the inside of my leg. For now, though, there was hardly any pain.

  "I didn't think I should," Melissa replied. "Anyway, no harm, no foul. Right?"

  Maybe not, I thought. Last night could have been just a foreshadowing of events to come. "I'll let Sly in on it," I said, pulling on the same pair of socks I had worn all day yesterday, but not really caring. "We need to be prepared if Randy does decide to come back."

  "Well, I'm not going to worry about it."

  I managed to squeeze in two sets of tennis before my leg began to protest. Melissa and I blew Sly and Tabby off the court 6-2 the first set, but they came back the second to win it in a tiebreaker.

  After an overdue shower, I tried to call Mrs. Klaus one more time.

  "Hello," a kid on the other end said.

  All right, I thought. Finally. "Hello. May I speak to Mrs. Rhonda Klaus, please?"

  "Who?"

  "Rhonda Klaus," I repeated, already feeling as though something was not right. "Isn't she staying there?"

  "Staying where?" the kid asked. "This is a phone booth on Main Street."

  I hung up, and stared a minute at the phone. Mrs. Klaus was definitely up to something, I thought. But what? I went out back to tell the others, but they looked like they were having such a good time in the swimming pool that I changed my mind. I would have a little talk with Mr. Klaus first. See what he had to say about this whole messy situation. Then I would go to the others with the information. I left a note on the kitchen table that I would be back in about an hour.

  The police station was on my way to the highway, so I would stop there and see Pierce, if he was in. I knew he had nothing on me, as I hadn't done anything, but he was beginning to pester other people--people that didn't need any trouble right now. Maybe if I finally cooperated with him, he would ease up a little.

  As I pulled into the police station's parking lot, I saw Pierce getting into his rusted brown station wagon. To make sure he didn't get away I stopped my camaro right behind him, blocking his exit out of his space. When he spotted me in his rear-view mirror, he couldn't get out of his car fast enough. I stepped out of my car and leaned against my roof.

  "O'Neal!" Pierce exclaimed as if he couldn't believe it was actually I standing before him. He wore that same shit-eating grin he had when I ran into him while changing my flat. "I was just going off to find you." He rounded my car and stopped. "You come to turn yourself in?"

  I immediately began to regret my decision to see him. "Wait a minute," I said. "I just came here to talk to you and find out exactly what you have against me. I had nothing to do with that Dell guy's death, and you know it."

  His smile disappeared. "So," he said, "you don't know about the latest two bodies discovered?" He looked at me with penetrating eyes, as though he were about to do a portrait of me and needed to see every nuance of my being.

  "What two bodies?" I asked. My first thought was, I can't be a suspect because now I have witnesses to my every move.

  Pierce said nothing.

  "Well, you can't think I had anything to do with it," I said, a bit smugly. "I've been with three other people the entire last two days. Right up to now."

  Pierce shifted his weight off his left foot onto his right. "Funny thing about these bodies, though," he said. "They are four days dead. Which, furthermore, makes these murders on the same night as Del Smith's. If I remember correctly, you didn't have a good alibi for that one, so I guess you won't now, either."

  I could almost feel my face drop. "Still," I said, a bit more demurely, "what makes you think I have anything to do with any of this?"

  "It’s nothing personal," he replied, as if he meant it. "There aren't a whole lot of suspects in this burg, and I'm under a lot of pressure to find this maniac. You, on the other hand, have the misfortune of being the only out-of-towner I know of. Add the fact that your first night here is the night of the murders, and I become a little suspicious. In addition, I see you walking around the neighborhood from which the latest two victims lived, and you become a bit hostile when I ask you why you're there. Now, you tell me. What would you think if you were in my shoes?"

  "Who were they?" I asked. Maybe the person that was in the empty room in the west wing last night wasn't Randy. Maybe, in fact, it was the killer.

  "I don't think I want to release their names right now," Pierce replied.

  "When did you find the bodies?" I asked.

  "Why do you want to know all this," Pierce rebutted. "You know something that you're not talking about?"

  "Maybe."

  "The bodies were found washed up on the bank of the Black River just south of town a little over an hour ago." As he spoke, he watched my face carefully for any reaction. "One of them was a little girl, only five years old."

  "And you think I'm capable of killing a little kid, huh?" I said, wanting all of a sudden to get out of there.

  "I guess I can't blame you for being a trifle pissed," he replied. "If you really had nothing to do with any of this, then I'm nothing but a pain in your ass." He paused, took off his hat, and scratched his head. "But, tell me. Where have you been staying?"

  "At an old friend's house," I replied, lying. "But I'll contact you later on today. I want to clear my name as much as you want to find the real killer."

  He asked if I could be available at five o'clock, and I told him that would be no problem. He followed my camaro to the city limits and turned off.

  He wouldn't be seeing me at five.

  I rolled up my windows and turned on the air conditioning as I drove down Highway 13 into Black Falls. The day had turned out hot and humid, begging for a good thunderstorm to cool things off. Bob Seager sang "You're Still the Same" on the oldies station.

  Two people had been murdered in the neighborhood where the four of us were staying. I felt that Mr. Klaus would put a few things straight. Why, for instance, was his ex-wife acting so peculiar?

  Something was wrong. Something didn't add up right. Because the more I thought about it, the more ludicrous it seemed that Mrs. Klaus would let us stay at her home. She didn't even know us. So why? Of course, being frightened out of her wits would have some impact on her decisions. But not enough. She had lived in Dodsville long enough to know the history behind Ghost Hunters, Inc. We had been only a couple of kids out for a good time. Then there was the timing--right during Reed's funeral. No one was thinking straight. And last of all, why did she lie to me about where she was staying?

  Her ex-husband, hopefully, would ease my mind a bit.

  I asked the way to Mr. Klaus's law office at a gas station just inside the Black Falls city limits. The attendant wasn't sure, but he said that most of the business was located on or near Main Street. Black Falls wasn't that large a town, so I figured I'd have little problem in finding it.

  On the northwest horizon the clouds were beginning to build. Their white cotton tips exploded upward, turning their underside a deep purple. Most likely, I thought, I would be driving back to Dodsville in a thunderstorm. No big deal, though. I loved a good afternoon boomer.

  Just as I had thought, I located the office of Mr. Klaus with no problems. The sign on a small brick building next to the Black Falls Industrial Credit Union informed me that I had found my destination:

  Klaus, Hammer, and Snead

  I parked my car in the credit union's parking lot. The wind picked up and small eddies of dust swirled around me. The storm was approaching fast, and by the looks of those banking black clouds building in the west, we were in for a Midwestern blaster. I hurried my walk across the small strip of grass separating the two establishments, not wanting my hair to be too disheveled when I met Mr. Klaus.

  A receptionist, who appeared to be about due for retirement, scowled at me as I approached her desk. "May I help you?" she asked laconically.

  Feeling instantly uncomfor
table, I replied: "Is Mr. Klaus in?" The atmosphere of the office felt heavy, almost like that of a funeral parlor. "It's important," I added.

  "Sorry, but all his appointments have been canceled for the day." She grabbed a book from under some papers. "What is your name, and I'll reschedule you?"

  "I don't have an appointment," I replied. "But I really need to talk to him about his wife--I mean, his ex-wife."

  She slammed the appointment book shut and shot me a cold stare. She opened her mouth to say something, but the opening of the door behind her desk cut her off. A man in his forties, donning an expensive three-piece suit, emerged and stopped short when he saw me.

  "What do you want?" he said, almost hostilely. His hair was unkempt, like he had just taken a short nap on his couch and hadn't combed it after he awakened. The blue of his eyes was cold steel glaring at me from over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He held a black leather briefcase in his right hand and appeared to be on his way out.

  "Mr. Klaus?" I asked, almost apologetically. Obviously, I hadn’t come at a good time. But, since I was already here, I decided to press him for a minute before he left.

  "Yes," he replied. "What do you want?"

  "If I could talk to you in private for just a few minutes," I said tentatively. "It's about your ex-wife, Rhonda."

  He removed his glasses and jammed them into his jacket pocket. "What about her?" His face tensed, as if expecting bad news.

  "I'm not quite sure where to begin," I said. "But something strange is going on with her. First she has a couple of my friends and me staying out at her mansion for a reason that is not quite what you would call sane. Then she--"

  "Wait a minute," he interrupted, holding out his right hand like a traffic cop. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you're were staying at my wife's home with her expressed permission?"