Husk (4 page)

As if cued by their conversation, the figure in the window moved out of view. Mallory rubbed her arms, still feeling like she was being spied on despite the man’s absence. She started to follow the others to the house but stopped short when the Andersons’ garage door growled open behind her.  She glanced over her shoulder to see a large conversion van back out into the street.

Mallory tried to catch a glimpse of the driver, but the van’s tinted windows obscured her view.

The van’s tires screeched on the pavement as it accelerated away.

CHAPTER 3

The Killer drove into a dirt parking lot at the middle of a forest clearing, braking to a stop before an abandoned church. The silence that followed after shutting off the engine became a mute testament to the remoteness of the location.

Despite the solitude, the Killer slid out of the van and cast a wary gaze toward the church. In the past, the humble one-room sanctuary accommodated some sixty people under its wood-shingled roof and steeple. Now, deserted by its parishioners and weathered by neglect, the edifice once built for divine purpose appeared like any other earthly object subject to degeneration. Even the day’s bright sunshine did little to alleviate its dreary look of decay. On the contrary, the light intensified the darkness peeking between the cracks of each boarded-over window and deepened the shadows dwelling within the empty loft of the crumbling bell tower.

Noisy cicadas singing in the nearby brush silenced their buzzing when the Killer rounded the van and opened the back doors. There, sprawled in the cargo space behind the rear seats, lay the Andersons’ bloody bodies.

The Killer seized them by the hair and heaved them out of the van, slamming their corpses to the dirt.

Their untimely deaths only made things more difficult.

Now the Killer needed to find another to aid in the tasks ahead.

Like the girl from this morning.

Mallory they had called her.

“
Maa-lll-oo-reee.”

The Killer knew her arrival at this pivotal moment couldn’t be by chance. Not at all. She was a gift, a boon delivered by the unseen forces of the cosmos in favor of the nearing holocaust. Properly slain, her death would be the catalyst for the start of a new age.

The mere thought of her demise sent a tremor of excitement throughout the Killer’s being, lessening the disappointment of the Andersons’ rejection. But before Mallory could die, preparations needed to be made, strength gathered, and for that the Killer needed others. Tonight, the Killer must hunt.

A crow cawed.

The Killer peered around the van’s open door, at the plot of land to the left of the church.

The cemetery.

Bordered by a four-foot-high wrought iron fence, the graveyard held several dozen former residents of the surrounding area, most long forgotten.

The Killer strolled to the fence and stared at the maze of slabs. Dry grass surrounded every tombstone, accompanied by brittle skeletons of parsnip and thistle.

Another crow shrieked from a canted cross not far away.

Dozens more perched amongst the headstones and along the church’s roof and steeple, hundreds of them. They stared at the Killer with dark, seditious eyes.

Below the birds the grass fluttered with the movement of numerous other animals that had congregated in the churchyard: mice, squirrels, woodchuck, garter snakes. A mother raccoon and her two cubs hurried out of sight as the Killer moved along the fence, and a stray cat hissed from its perch atop a tombstone. The killer faced it, causing the beast to retreat into the grass. It fled to the far end of the graveyard, where a trio of deer paced back and forth, flashing the whites of their tails.

Ignoring the animals, the Killer fixed on a specific headstone within the assemblage of graves, the newest addition to the lot.

No dates marked the stone’s surface. No heartfelt words of memory.

Just a name.

Kale Kane.

CHAPTER 4

After putting BJ to bed and locking the house, Paul Wiess switched off the downstairs lights and started up the stairs to wish Mallory a good night.

It had been a productive day. The kids were moved into their second floor bedrooms, the last of the decorations were in place, and the house had come together nicely.

Paul rolled his right shoulder, stretching the muscles. He had a few minor aches from lifting some of the larger pieces of furniture, but they were the satisfying pains of a job well done.

Best of all, he had his children back.

At the top of the steps, he found one of BJ’s superhero action figures lying on the carpet. He picked up the toy, staring at it with a smile on his lips until his eyes began to water.

Who knew you’d miss cleaning up after the kids so much?

He wiped his eyes and thought of the day after he and Vicky split up. His new apartment had only been a mile away from the home they’d shared, but the silence he’d awakened to that morning felt like ice water in his face, cold and merciless, and it washed away all false hopes that his fractured family could somehow be repaired. But that torment lay behind him now. Here he had a second chance to reconstruct his relationship with Mallory and BJ, an opportunity to rebuild some semblance of the life they’d had up until the divorce.

His prayers had been answered.

Paul set BJ’s toy on the hall table at the landing and turned left, heading toward Mallory’s bedroom. He’d just reached the end of the hall when the phone rang, followed by the sound of Mallory’s voice from the other side of her door.

“
Hey, Becky, what’s up?”

Paul went to knock, knowing that waiting out one of Mallory’s phone conversations with her best friend would require a paperback novel and two bathroom trips.

“
What do you mean Derrick Nolan dumped his girlfriend?” Mallory asked before he could announce himself. Her voice pitched with a note of astonishment. “He’s been asking about me—asking who? You’re lying, right? Please tell me you’re lying. I can’t believe this is happening now!”

There was a pause. Paul lowered his hand, listening.

“
Good
news?” Mallory cried. “Don’t you get it? Derrick finally breaks up with his bitchy girlfriend, and I’m stuck way the hell out here in Loretto. I know it’s only a forty-five minute drive out of town, but I don’t have my driver’s license yet. Hell, I don’t even have a car. Shit, Becky, I might as well not even exist. Argh! This is a disaster. What am I going to do? I’m trapped.”

Another moment passed in silence while Mallory listened to her friend. Paul looked to the far end of the hall, to his open bedroom door, but the disheartening tone of his daughter’s last statement had tethered him to the conversation like a noose.

“
Yes, talk to his sister, put in a good word for me,” Mallory said. “And call me the second you find out anything new. Crap, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight … What do you mean you know what I’ll be doing? Hey! Shame on you!”

Once they’d said their goodbyes Paul tapped on the door.

“
Hey, pumpkin, can I come in?”

“
Sure, Dad.”

He crossed the room and sat down on the bed.

“
Was that Becky?”

“
Yeah.”

She’d already switched off the lights, but he easily discerned the melancholy expression on her face.

“
Sounded like she had some pretty interesting news,” he said.

“
Nah. Just the usual girl-talk.”

He touched her chin and turned her head to face him. Light from outside caught her eyes, and in the softened glow he glimpsed the child within his daughter’s maturing features.

“
I’m so sorry about all this, Mallory. I wish I could put everything back the way it was.”

“
Dad, I didn’t mean what I said.”

Paul shook his head. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize. You’ve had to change schools and leave all your friends. And all at a time when … when relationships start to have new meanings. You have every right to be upset.”

Mallory formed a thin smile. “Hey, at least I’m still in the state. I would’ve had to start from scratch in Atlanta.”

“
I know, but you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. I’m sorry for that, and I’m sure your mom is, too. At the same time, I’m also thankful to have you back. Without you and BJ the last few months have felt like decades. I’ve missed you.”

Mallory put her arms around him. “Come on, Dad, you’re going to make me cry if you keep talking like that. I’ll love you no matter what. You don’t have to apologize.”

Paul held her tight.

When they separated he asked, “This Derrick is pretty special to you, huh?”

Mallory shrugged, but her bashful smile told the truth.

“
Don’t worry. You’ll get your driver’s license soon enough, and then you can visit your friends whenever you want. I’ll even knock the drive time off your curfew.”

“
I’m not worried. As long as I can keep in touch with everyone, and if they’re really my friends, then nothing will change, right?”

Paul nodded. “We’ll just have to make sure you do stay in touch with everyone, and a surefire way to do that is to have a pool party.”

Mallory grinned. “Really?”

“
Absolutely,” Paul told her. “Invite whoever you please. We can get one of those mile-long submarine sandwiches, and you can blast the music until the neighbors call the cops.”

Mallory cocked her head.

“
Well, okay, maybe not that loud.”

“
You’re serious?”

“
I’ll even take BJ to the movies so you can have the place to yourself. How many parents say that?”

“
Awesome!”

“
Of course, there’ll be a certain level of responsibility involved.”

Mallory’s head bobbed an enthusiastic “yes” before he even finished the sentence.

CHAPTER 5

Penelope Styles steered her Dodge Neon into the far left lane of the highway then watched the conversion van following behind her mimic the move in the rearview mirror.

“
Shit,” she whispered to herself. “Shit, shit, shit.”

She swept several strands of purple hair off her forehead, feeling a cold sweat that had risen from her skin. In the mirror, the van’s headlight blazed like eyes of a jack-o-lantern.

She first noticed the vehicle about a half-hour ago, just after dusk, when she accidentally passed the exit ramp to north Highway 169. She’d been fiddling with her MP3 player, trying to change playlists, and ended up driving an extra six miles west before realizing she’d missed her turnoff.

That’s when she’d spotted the van.

She didn’t know how long it had been in her wake, but it pulled up behind her as she exited the Interstate to turn around, then followed her back east to the ramp she’d overshot earlier. It could’ve been a harmless coincidence—the two of them making the same mistake at the exact same time—but after becoming aware of the van, she’d kept tabs on its location behind her, noticing it would speed up when she did but wouldn’t pass when she slowed. Now she watched the driver copy her lane changes while she weaved through traffic, displaying a new level of boldness that made her neck hairs quiver with unease.

“
Prick,” she shouted at the image in the rearview mirror.

She glanced at the Neon’s control panel and cursed again.

The car needed gas.

She preferred to stay on the road, content to let her vehicular stalker remain on her trail all the way to her parents’ cabin in Clearwater Creek—and to her father’s shotgun collection. Unfortunately, her parents’ place was still a good forty minutes away, and the needle of the fuel gage was already tipping precariously near empty. Like it or not, she needed to stop.

Keeping in the left lane, she eased her car alongside a pickup truck towing a horse trailer. It was only a little after ten, but traffic had already thinned out, and she’d made sure to stick close to the few cars still on the road.

The van trailed behind her, less than a car-length away. Up ahead, the next exit ramp flashed into view, its turnoff bordered by signs promoting food, gas, and lodging.

“
Okay, asshole,” she said to the image in the mirror, “follow this!”

With the exit ramp almost on top of her, she slammed on the gas and made a hard right, cutting in front of the truck and up the ramp at the last moment. Horns blared from angry motorists behind her, and tires squealed on the pavement.

She looked in the rearview mirror the second she hit the ramp, trying to ignore the ghost of her reflection when she searched the road behind her. She expected to see an empty stretch of blacktop, but she found the van’s driver had anticipated her move and slowed down to avoid the other traffic.

Now he cut onto the exit ramp and raced to catch up.

“
Fuck,” she hissed.

She wished she had a cell phone.

She wished she were closer to her final destination.