Silas: A Supernatural Thriller Page 9

  Wendy’s car and the Staffordville HVAC van.

  I swallowed hard and pulled into my driveway, taking my usual position beside Wendy’s Jaguar. Stop beating yourself up, I thought. You’re letting paranoia get the best of you. This Goodman guy probably overslept. Shit, he was out at three in the morning. His company probably read him the riot act because of it. He deserves a break.

  If only I could make myself believe that.

  I stepped out of the car, only to hear Wendy screeching inside. Her high-pitched wails rose above Silas’s persistent barking. The mingling sounds were primal, full of rage, like a lion pouncing on an unsuspecting wildebeest. I imagined my wife in the kitchen, anger pouring from her throat as she brought a frying pan down time and again on our dog’s hard noggin. I broke out running.

  As soon as I burst through the front door, Wendy’s inflection was clear. She screamed, all right, but it wasn’t out of fury. There were sobs in there, as well, causing her voice to crack.

  “Just stop!” she wailed. “What’s wrong with you!”

  I bolted down the hallway and into the living room. Wendy stood against the wall in front of the entrance to the sun porch, hands cupped over her face, her body shuddering. Silas stood on the sofa, front paws digging into the backrest, his nose pressed against the window. He let loose an endless series of yowls and woofs. His gums were pulled back, exposing his teeth. His drool slathered the glass, clinging to the pane in sticky blotches.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, having to yell to be heard. Wendy dropped her hands and turned to me, frantically. Tears and eyeliner dripped down her cheeks.

  “Get him to shut up!” she pleaded. “He won’t stop!”

  I made my way over to the couch and placed a hand on Silas’s back. Lowering my eyes to his level, I glanced out the slime-covered window. Silas didn’t respond to me – instead he seemed to take it as a cue. His barking eased to a menacing grumble and he dropped from his roost. He ran out of the room. When his barking resumed – as persistent as before – it came from the front door.

  “What’s his malfunction?” asked Wendy, her voice hitching as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  I shrugged.

  “You better figure it out,” she said. “I’m not gonna take this shit from him, too. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. It’s like you’re the only one that matters. It’s not right.”

  I started to open my mouth but turned around and walked away instead. It wouldn’t do any good to defend myself. She was angry, and justifiably so. And besides, I had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

  Silas waited impatiently, scratching at the front door. I paused, contemplated calling the police, and then brushed that thought aside. What would happen if this was all in my head, if it was nothing but a big misunderstanding? Just check it out, my brain told me. If anything’s wrong, call the cops then.

  I shooed Silas aside and opened the door. We went out together, me marching with a nervous pep in my step, him trotting beside me sans leash. He continued his guttural rumbling as we made our way across the thin patch of lawn that separated my and Joe’s house but surprisingly he never took off. It was like he knew the only way we could do this was to do it together.

  We approached the service van and something caught my eye. I knelt down and ran my finger over the front quarter panel. It was caked with thick dirt, with a good amount of reddish clay mixed in, much like the consistency of the soil in one particular rolling field. My mind replayed the event, seeing the fresh tire tracks in the grass. I slammed my fist against the wheel well.

  Without any further hesitation I sprinted to Joe’s front door, forgetting my mental promise to head back and alert the authorities if anything was amiss. The curtains were drawn on the picture window – unusual, especially considering how nice a day it was. I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen for any sign of struggle. My heavy breathing and pounding heart were all I could hear. I tried the knob but was locked, so I reared back and launched my shoulder into the door as hard as I could. The lock must have been old, because the door flew open on impact. Liquid needles of pain surged across my chest as I tumbled to the floor. In a haze I heard the first cries of panic. Silas then jumped over me, using my stomach as a springboard. He landed a few feet away from my head, stopped, hunkered down, and started barking again.

  Despite the throbbing in my head and shoulder I propped myself up and faced the direction of those pleas for help. All eyes were on me. Jacqueline, balled up in the corner of the family room, knees held tight to her chest, stared at me and quivered. Joe sat atop the remains of what had once been his coffee table, ten or so feet away from his daughter, his desperate hands clutching at something wrapped around his throat. He seemed frozen, his face locked in an expression both terrified and relieved. And then there was Nick Goodman the Electrician, puffy cheeks, mutton chops, and all. He stood above Joe with piano wire wrapped around his fists.

  I struggled to my knees as my feet slipped on the welcome mat. Silas inched forward, still growling, his fur standing on end. I watched Nick tilt his head in a quizzical manner and squint. His pasty white cheeks lifted while his mouth curled into a grin. He didn’t seem harmless any longer.

  “Oh, hey there old friend,” he said, gnawing on a wad of gum. “Good to see ya.”

  His grip on the piano wire loosened, causing Joe’s head to tilt forward. “Please…help us…” my neighbor began.

  Nick brought his fist down on Joe’s ear. His body crumpled from the force of it, and Nick let go of the piano wire. It slipped from its place around Joe’s neck, exposing a deep red line that appeared dangerously close to breaking the skin – as it had with poor Bridget.

  Jacqueline screamed when her father hit the ground with a thud. I couldn’t take it any more. I let loose a primal roar and charge the fat, murderous pedophile.

  Nick’s patronizing smirk disappeared. A moment later I soared over Joe’s unconscious body and buried my shoulder – the one still aching from the run-in with the door – squarely into the large man’s chest. I forced him back and he fell, pulling me along with him. We landed with a thud. I bounced on his bloated midsection and rolled off to the side. With the storm of anger in my head, I didn’t realize I was howling the whole time. My lungs burned and I grew faint from lack of oxygen. A phlegm-filled cough exploded from my lungs.

  I shuffled away and got up on my knees. I felt dryness in my mouth and a sticky film over my teeth, which I bared like a rabid dog. I’d never felt so animalistic, so at one with primordial violence. It felt good, it felt real. I went with it.

  Nick struggled to his feet. The uncertainty in his expression disappeared, replaced by a look of rage that mirrored my own. He grabbed Joe by the back of his shirt, lifted him, and tossed him aside. My neighbor toppled over, smacked his head against the arm of the couch, and fell still.

  Again I leapt at Nick, only this time I guess he was expecting it. He caught me in midair, whirled me around, and dropped me to the floor. I scurried away on my back, shocked at how strong he was, and glanced at Silas. My protector stayed in the same place he’d been when we entered, up on his haunches and barking but not coming any closer.

  “That’s right!” said Nick, his words aimed at Silas. His grin, tinged with venom, widened. “Don’t come no closer, you stupid bastard.” He stomped the floor hard enough to knock a mirror off the wall. Jacqueline, still hidden away in her corner, screamed. Nick turned in her direction.

  “Get away from her,” I snarled, grabbing the lamp off the table beside me as I rose to my feet. Even with my fear, my anger grew.

  Nick shook his head and spread out his arms. “My God, why you gotta mess with shit you don’t understand? Don’t you see what I’m trying to do here? I’m doing it for you!”

  I stepped back, baffled, but I didn’t give myself time to think about the meaning behind his nonsensical words. Instead I gathered as much force as I could and launched the lamp at him. It struck him in the fa
ce and exploded, raining fragments of frosted blue glass. He staggered backward and raked at his cheek. Blood oozed between his fingers, ran down his neck, and soaked the collar of his button-down shirt. Seeing an opening, I swung my fist at his jaw as hard as I could.

  It never connected.

  Nick caught my fist, his fingers enveloping mine. My knuckles cracked as he bent my wrist back. He was too strong – much too strong – and I collapsed onto my knees.

  Before long he had me flat on my back. He sat his huge ass on my chest, pinning me down, and released my hand. Jacqueline, now back in my line of view, tried to scurry away. One quick glance and a clap from our attacker froze her in her tracks. In a panic I turned to Silas. He was still to the side of the front door, growling.

  Why won’t you help? my mind pleaded. Why’re you letting this happen?

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” said Nick, grabbing my jaw and turning my head. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He can’t do nothing, and he knows it.”

  The large man’s weight bore down on my sternum, making me struggle for breath. “Why?” I gasped.

  His lips puckered and he shrugged. “’Cause I can, I guess. That’s all you need to know. You’re just a common, anyway. You wouldn’t get it.”

  At that moment a soft beep, like the world’s smallest alarm clock, sounded. Nick sighed, pulled a small watch from his pocket, and looked at it. “Well, I’ll be a shit farmer,” he said. “That time already.”

  He got off me and gave me a swift kick to the ribs. I doubled over. “See ya later,” he said. I watched in pain as he winked at Jacqueline. “We’ll pick this up later, ‘kay? And don’t try to run. I’ll always find you.”

  I wanted to do something, to get up and tackle him, but the pain in my ribs was too great. Instead I let him storm out the front door, flipping off a retreating Silas in the process. The van roared to life a few seconds later. I heard it back out of the driveway and take off with a screech.

  With Nick gone, Silas finally ventured into the family room. His tail wagged and he licked my face. His breath smelled like fish. “Ugh, no,” I moaned, rolling over and shooing him away. Silas then went over to Joe, sniffed him, and eventually made his way toward Jacqueline. The little girl still held her knees to her chest. Her eyes were bugging out. Silas sat down in front of her and panted. Gradually, her tension seemed to ease and the hint of a smile crossed her lips.

  “Hi, puppy,” she said in a soft, far-away voice.

  I sat up, my hand and chest aching. My mind couldn’t comprehend what just happened. My thoughts were peppered with questions. Who is that guy? Why did he talk like he knows me? Why is he killing young girls and their families? I shook my head and my heart started racing again. I couldn’t let the bastard get away. He’d surely ditch the van and hide away somewhere, and quick, which meant going to the police station and explaining the situation was out of the question. That left only one option.

  “You okay?” I asked Jacqueline as I struggled to my feet. She didn’t reply, only kept staring at Silas. I checked Joe’s pulse, much like I had with poor Bridget, only this time I found one. Then I ran over to Jacqueline and picked her up. “You’re gonna have to stay with Mrs. Lowery for a bit, okay Jackie?”

  Her eyes closed and she said not a word.

  Silas hopped out of my way and allowed me a clear path out the door. I carried the petrified young girl across the lawn and flew into my house. Silas was at my heels the whole time, moving happily, as if the whole scary scene never happened.

  I found Wendy in the dining room, a vague look of dismay on her face. “What’s going on?” she asked, appearing startled.

  “Call the police,” I said. I placed Jacqueline down on a chair, and she again folded up her knees. “And watch after her until they get here. Tell them her dad’s unconscious next door. I gotta go.”

  I ran back out of the house before she could ask any more questions. I wouldn’t have been able to answer them, anyway. Everywhere I looked I saw Nick’s chubby mug and that shit-eating grin. Silas jumped into the Subaru as soon as I opened the door and I slid in beside him. I turned the key and revved the engine. A longing for revenge, disguised as a quest for justice, seeped from my pores.

  I had to do this. I had to find him.

  I just hoped I hadn’t wasted too much time.

  20

  It didn’t take long to find Nick Goodman’s van, which was stopped at a traffic light on Mercy Hill’s main drag, its left blinker flashing. When I pulled up behind it there were only six cars separating us.

  “Now I got you, asshole,” I whispered.

  I reached into the center console and searched of my cell phone, but it wasn’t there. I bent down, careful to check the traffic light every few seconds, and rifled through the cluttered area in front and to the side of the passenger seat. Still nothing. Then I remembered – I’d left the phone on the nightstand in the spare bedroom. I slapped the steering wheel in frustration.

  I sat up to see Silas’s doggy grin in the rearview mirror. It seemed to ease my tension a bit, and I forgave him for his inaction only a few minutes before. How could I ever stay mad at a face like that?

  “Looks like we’re gonna have to follow him, boy,” I said. I reached behind me and tugged on the loose skin around his neck. “You with me?”

  He barked and obsessively licked my hand. I was able to smile, and it wasn’t forced.

  The light turned green and the van rounded the corner. I trailed behind, glad to have a little distance between us. I didn’t want him getting suspicious.

  We left Mercy Hills behind and entered Stafford. Nick weaved around a rotary and proceeded to head west. I kept my distance, even as the cars between us turned off the road. The Stafford line came and went and we crossed into the next town where, thankfully, the traffic was much tighter. I wondered where the hell the guy was going. The nonchalant way he drove didn’t exactly make him look like someone fleeing the scene of an attempted murder. Whatever his motives, though, I was thankful he took it so easily. At least this way I could flag down a cop if I saw one parked on the side of the road.

  But I never did. Per usual, when you need them most, they’re nowhere around. Murphy’s law, I guess.

  We slipped through the shopping district. Impatience made me brazen, and I passed a slow-moving pickup truck to get a little closer. Out of instinct, with the van in clear view, I jotted down the license plate. ARL-Q09. A lot of good it would do me. Unless my quarry decided to stop and take a piss or something, I was helpless.

  But he didn’t stop. The van cruised by the procession of strip malls at a steady, indifferent pace. At the next set of lights the right blinker flashed. I glanced at the sign. I-91 North. The bastard was getting on the highway.

  Damn.

  By that time it was closing in on six o’clock. I kept on him through the frenetic rush-hour traffic, my speedometer stuck at a pretty consistent sixty-seven miles per hour. Signs marking the end of the Connecticut border were replaced by ones welcoming us to Massachusetts. Chicopee, Holyoke, Northampton, South Deerfield, and Bernardston flew past my window. All the while, Nick the Homicidal Electrician kept his even pace in the middle of the three-lane freeway. I looked in the rearview mirror and noticed that Silas had taken his usual position during long trips – sitting behind me and calmly staring out the window. I envied how relaxed he seemed.

  After more than two hours of tense driving we entered Vermont. Traffic decreased to a slight trickle, and eventually we were the only two automobiles on the road. The van accelerated, tearing across the dividing line to the right, picking up speed, and careening down the exit ramp for Route 9. I panicked, amazed at how fast the large, clunking beast of a van could move. I pushed my own pedal to the floor and jacked the wheel. As my target disappeared around the next bend, his flashing taillights in the darkening evening were the only sign that he was heading west.

  I’d lost him.

  I slowly drove through Vermont towns
I’d never been to. If only he’d decided to pull this stunt closer to home, I might’ve been able to at least guess where he was headed. Here, in an unfamiliar, mountainous land filled with dense evergreens and winding roads, I was screwed.

  After another half-hour of fruitless wandering the road took a steep upward turn. There were no houses to be seen, only guardrails and trees. Darkness painted the surroundings in an eerie shade of blue-gray. The forest resembled a platoon of monstrous, unmoving sentinels waiting to flay me with their barbed appendages. I let out a disgusted grunt, realizing that I was running out of time. I was also getting tired. As if to answer me, Silas stirred in the back seat, circling twice before he lay down and sighed.

  “You’re right, boy,” I said. “Enough of this.”

  A small shack of a gas station finally appeared to my right. The sign posted on the edge of the gravel parking area read, Mount Snow/Haystack Ski Resort Next Right, accompanied by a smaller sign that said, Ski Areas Closed for Summer. I pulled into the lot and parked in front of the lone pumping station. The shack’s windows were blacked-out, like a bank of dead eyes. The place looked abandoned. It’s probably only open during skiing season, I reasoned. Not that it mattered. I still had a quarter tank of gas, and all I needed at that point was a telephone. I’d call the cops and then Wendy, to let her know what’s up. The authorities could take it from there. I’d played vigilante too much already.

  I scanned the area and spotted a pay phone on the side of the building, but there was no receiver in the cradle. Its chord hung like a decapitated snake. I groaned.

  “So much for my luck.”

  I got back behind the wheel and checked the clock. 8:37. It would be completely dark soon. I didn’t like the idea of driving through a series of twisting, streetlight-less mountain roads with nothing but the moon and my high beams to lead the way. Silas poked his head between the seats and stared at me. “Guess I better get going, huh?” I said. He panted and licked my forearm.