Evil Heights, Book II: Monster in the House Read online

  Lee kept his head tucked back, just peeking with one eye. The patrol car was creeping along, going slowly. It made little noise other than the throb of its engine, the crunch of the gravel under the tires, and the crackly spattering of noise from its radio coming through the open windows. The four-door black and white had a red domed light on top and one of those long, whip antennas mounted on a spring and doubled over from the back bumper to the roof. As it turned, on the side door of the cruiser was visible a large gold star inside a circle, which read: Parson's County Sheriff.

  And Lee recognized the car. No other patrol car in the county suffered from quite the same dramatic lean as did Fat Larry's. Exactly the same as the ticking clock in the stomach of the Peter Pan's crocodile was a dead give away of impending danger to Captain Hook, there wasn't a boy in all Parson's County that couldn't recognize this car from any distance due to its distinctive driver's side lean.

  "Want to have some fun?” Lee's grin was in full form. His concern of a moment ago had evaporated with the appearance of a real evil.

  Phoebe was still was far from over her anxiety. “Fun? What fun?"

  He jumped over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “It's Fat Larry! He's tryin’ to sneak up on us. That's what we heard. It wasn't ghosts. It's this asshole Sheriff's Deputy. I tell you what we'll do. I'll slip out the back and run around to the other side where I can get a bead on him if he gets out of his car. When he gets here, you jump out and scream bloody murder, then run around the backside of the cars to the front where the engine is. We'll meet up there."

  Lee moved to the door, preparing to jump down.

  "Oh no!” Phoebe came back to life. “You're not leaving me here. I'm going where you go!” From the look on Phoebe's face, Lee knew there wasn't going to be any arguing about this, and he'd need to come up with another plan.

  "O.K.” He thought quickly. “I've got another idea. Come on."

  Lee jumped down, and turned back to catch Phoebe by her waist, helping her down. Together, they ran along, holding hands as they stayed on the side of the train opposite the patrol car. At a space between two of the middle cars, Lee dodged in and squatted down. Phoebe was right with him. Lee scooped up a handful of gravel and quickly plucked out the largest pieces. Phoebe followed suit.

  The black and white crept along slowly. Now they could really make out the crackle of the police radio but still couldn't make out any words, though the dispatcher was obviously a woman's voice.

  "See,” Lee said again. “It was the radio we heard."

  As the car rolled along nearing where they were hiding, they could see Fat Larry stuffed behind the wheel. He had his cap off, and the prickly hair of his department issue flat top looked like a ridiculous Mohawk on his tiny, pointed head. He was chewing on something, his lips smacking and jaws working as he passed by.

  "I can't let him see me. He knows who I am,” Lee whispered, though he really didn't need to. “Wait a second, and we'll nail him with these rocks."

  Phoebe had become caught up in it all. “Won't he get out and catch us?” she whispered excitedly.

  Lee shook his head. “Naw. He's real stupid and even lazier than he is stupid. It'll take him a while to figure out where the rocks are coming from. He's so fat he almost never gets out of his car. Anyway, even if he does come after us he couldn't catch a one legged turtle if his own butt was on fire."

  As soon as the car had passed, Lee stood up and fired one right for the round light on top. He missed. The rock hit the roof and careened off. Immediately, the break lights came on, and the car jerked to a halt, squeaking on its springs.

  Phoebe, though admittedly she threw like a girl with a gawky arm, managed to hit the red globe with her first rock.

  A voice rasped out over a P.A. “This is the Sheriff's Department. Y'all are trespassin’ and violatin’ a public vehicle. You shits better come on out right now, y'hear."

  Lee and Phoebe didn't come out. Instead they launched a furious fusillade of handfuls of gravel. From inside the squad car it must have sounded like it was hailing.

  In his panic, Fat Larry had inadvertently left his thumb pressed to the microphone's key. Lee and Phoebe were treated to the whole dialogue inside as it blared over the P.A. “Goddamnit! Shit! Oww!” The last absolutely sincere cry of pain sounded out after a well-thrown rock from Phoebe had actually gone in through the driver's window. “Bunch of motherfuckin'—goddamnit—I'm gonna git y'all. Shit! I'm gonna kick some ass, bunch ‘a’ punk shits—” echoed across the train yard.

  This was more fun than anything Lee had done in a long time. Phoebe would throw and then Lee would follow, neither letting up, with both of them laughing and laughing as Fat Larry cussed a blue streak.

  In a surprise move, the door to the car flung open, and the whale-like officer attempted to pile out. It took him a few seconds once he'd gotten his legs around to heave the rest of his bulk off the seat and out the door. Lee hadn't seen him up close and out of the car for a long while. There was no doubt the monster had put on a few pounds since their last encounter.

  "That's one ugly guy,” Phoebe giggled, as they hunkered down and hid. “Look at those silly ears."

  In a surprise move, Fat Larry wrestled with his holster and finally unsheathed his service .38. He waved it around defensively, the barrel wobbling as though it was dangerously heavy and hollered, “Who's the sorry son-of-a-bitch that wants to get his rock throwin’ ass shot!"

  "We better get out of here,” Lee warned. “He's pissed."

  Hurriedly, they dropped their hand loads of gravel and vacated the safety of the space between the cars. Keeping low, they ran along, all the way forward to the engine. Both Lee and Phoebe jumped when they heard the first shot fired, followed by a screaming ricochet.

  "Come on!” Lee urged, taking Phoebe by the hand. “Let's get out of here!"

  They ducked and sprinted, weaving their way around abandoned metal buildings and jumping through spaces between equipment that seemed a rabbit would have trouble squeezing through. Breathing heavily and keeping stealthily to the side of the fence line the pair arrived at the main entrance finding the gate conveniently left swung wide open by Fat Larry. Not stopping, even when two more shots rang out, they ran diagonally through the brush, away from the long, main drive and came back out on Seminole Road, just about a quarter mile down the road from their houses.

  Lee was impressed. “You can really run, Phoebe."

  She was holding her side with one hand, and her other was swinging low as she walked. “It helps when someone's shootin’ at me."

  After a few moments of silence Phoebe caught Lee by the shoulder. “Hold still,” she said. “I've got a rock in my shoe."

  Lee stood patiently as Phoebe hiked up her leg and using him to balance against fished around in her shoe.

  Looking up at him as she dug around with her finger she said, “Lee, you know that was no radio we heard?"

  "Then what do you think it was?"

  "I don't know, but I'm telling you it scared the bejeebers out of me. That laughing, who could make a sound like that? Didn't you hear that? It was crazy."

  Lee had no option but to nod.

  "Then there was that god-awful smell.” Phoebe had found the rock and was digging at it with her finger. “I thought I was gonna get sick."

  "Come on, Phoebe.” Lee looked around. “We've got to get off this road before Fat Larry comes along. If he sees us, he'll know it was us."

  "Just a sec.” She let go of his shoulder and plopped right down in the dust, in a moment she had the rock out and then had to untie her laces so she could get her shoe back on. As she finished retying her shoe, Lee stood there waiting patiently and providing some shade. When she was done, Phoebe held her arms up, and he took hold of her hands and helped her up.

  They started walking again. But she obviously wasn't done with asking him about what had happened in the caboose. “Weren't you scared?"

  At first, Lee didn't answer. Finally he sai
d, “You know, it just had to be Fat Larry's radio we heard."

  "That wasn't no radio.” She was actually accusatory. “Do radios make the sky get dark? Do radios let out bad smells?"

  Lee looked sideways at her. “Okay. Then what else? A ghost of one of the dead people from the train wreck was goin’ around laughing and stinking. Sound does funny things, especially in a weird place like that. I've been out on a country road alone before, and I could have sworn I heard a car coming, but no car ever showed up. The car I was hearing was probably five or ten miles away and somehow the sound carries."

  "But it felt weird too,” Phoebe came back. “It wasn't just that horrible laughing; it was all yucky. You were there. I think I know what it is, since you're a boy you just don't want to admit you were scared too."

  Lee stopped and glared back at her defensively. “Spooky stuff always happens in the rail yard. That's why we go there. I've never gone there where someone didn't get scared. Last time it was my friend Ronnie. There've been kids who've gone in on the anniversary night of the wreck, and they said that at the stroke of midnight they saw the train light up and come all alive and look just like brand new. They said it was shakin’ and rockin’ with music comin’ out and noises like people were inside."

  He pressed his thumb to his chest. “I think they were just scared, and if there was someone in there it was probably just a couple of bums who had a campfire going and a radio playing.” Lee reached up and put his hands on her shoulders. “But for real, Phoebe, sometimes, I think things do happen there. Just last year it was in the paper and on the T.V. news that a dead bum was found in one of the cars. The body was stabbed pretty badly. Some people said the Sheriff said he looked like he'd been ripped clean open. But, I don't know. I didn't get to see it."

  Lee could see that Phoebe wasn't accepting his rationalizing. “Okay, okay.” He had to give her his grin, as she looked so serious. “Okay. Okay. I have to admit it was a little spooky there for a bit."

  "Come on,” she countered reproachfully. “That was more than a little spooky."

  Lee could only look her back in the eye, and nod, and after a moment they began walking again.

  A few seconds later he added, “You know, you did ask for ghosts."

  She gave him that limp-wristed shove again. “Yeah, but not for real."

  Lee was thinking much faster than he was walking. Finally he said, “Look Phoebe, for real, I'm tellin’ ya, honest, yes, okay, I was scared too. Though really, I wasn't exactly scared. I can't explain it except to tell you something my dad once told me. I haven't told you, but my dad was over in Korea, and he was in some pretty tough fighting. He told me that sometimes there were times when he was terrified, absolutely scared to death. But other times, it just seemed that all the terrible things going on around him, all the bombs going off and men dying, it just kind of made everything more real, more clear. He said sometimes it would be so intense, even now, years later, he could remember some of those moments as clearly as if it was still happening. Surreal, that's the word I'm searching for. He said it was so real, it seemed too real; and that in seeing things so clearly, and being in control of knowing what was going on he wasn't really afraid anymore. He said he was so busy concentrating on thinking and staying alive that he didn't remember to be afraid. And I think that's what I felt back at the caboose. I wasn't really so much scared as I was trying to think what we needed to do."

  Phoebe was hanging on Lee's every word, the quietest she had been all day except for her self-imposed ten minutes of silence back at the Ballard house.

  "But let me tell you,” he continued, “I get just as afraid as anyone. I know exactly what it is to be scared.” He thought about it and then went ahead and blurted it out. “Here's something I haven't told anyone, not even my best friend, Ronnie."

  "Tell me!” Phoebe, obviously delighted, skipped up a step in front of Lee and jumped to face him, walking backward. “You've gotta tell me. I positively crave secrets."

  "A couple of weeks ago,” Lee began slowly. “Maggie sent me out to Little's to get her some sugar. It really wasn't a big deal; I've run errands for her lots of times in the evenings. She always seems to need something, and she always sends me out to the store. Of course, we don't live in Pickford acres anymore, so this was different. Anyway, I was out on Seminole Road, in the dark, and something came after me."

  Phoebe was wide-eyed. “Did you see what it was?"

  "No,” he shook his head. “A couple of times I thought about stopping and turning around, you know to go ahead and fight it; but somehow I knew that's what it wanted. I know it sounds crazy, but it didn't just want to get me. It wanted me to see its face. And I knew that if I did, then it was going to kill me. So I ran. I'm telling you, Phoebe, I ran like hell. I about busted my heart I ran so hard. And all the way it was right up on me, teasing me, and enjoying scaring the hell out of me. I'm tellin’ you if what it wanted was to scare me, it got what it wanted as I was scared, really scared."

  "You don't know what it was?” Phoebe obviously believed every word; her voice had the same worried and hollow ring to it as it did in the caboose.

  Lee shook his head. “No I don't know, least not exactly. I didn't wait around. But it wasn't my imagination. It was real. Jesus, you should have seen me run.” He laughed, but it wasn't very convincing. “The coach would have to start me for sure if I ran the hundred yard dash like that.

  Phoebe's expression of concern showed she obviously was convinced. “I just saw you run, hon, and I'm tellin’ you it was everything I could do to try to keep up with you, and I'm faster than any of the boys I know.” She looked back at him incredulously. “You ran faster than that?"

  "I ran for my life.” The seriousness in his voice was compelling. “If I hadn't, I don't think I'd be here talking to you right now. Whatever the thing was that was after me, I could feel it, its hate, its rage. I didn't want to know what it was, or even why it decided to come after me, but one thing I do know was the thing was pissed off and mean as hell. So I knew it was time to run."

  He was working with his hands nervously trying to help express himself, but it really wasn't helping. “Like in the caboose,” he continued, “I felt like I knew what we needed to do. I know, it sounds weird. But I don't know what else to call it, that feeling, like an instinct for self-preservation. In the caboose I knew it'd be best if we stayed still. But out on the road, all alone, I knew I'd better run. Whatever was going on in the caboose, it seemed not so much dangerous as ugly, maybe even kind of stupid compared to whatever it was out on the road that night. What was out there waiting for me in the dark that night was seriously mean. It liked scaring me. I think maybe it wanted to see if it could scare me to death. That's something I've thought about a lot since that night. It could have caught me any time it wanted. I know it could. It was playing with me, having its fun.” His hands were still working. “Like you've seen a cat, playing with a bird, letting it go, then catching it again until it finally tires of its fun and kills it?"

  Phoebe nodded. “We used to have this tom-cat that came around; he was hell on birds and lizards and even worse on mice.” It was her turn to use her hands; she made her fingers into claws. “It got to where you felt sorry for whatever he came home with. That cat had these awful yellow eyes, blood yellow I'd call ‘em. He's been gone for a long time, but I can still see those eyes, not a shred of mercy in him. We used to feed him, and that's why he came around. But, if you were holding him, the way he looked back at you, you knew if you were smaller than him, he'd rip you up and enjoy every second of it. Cats can be like that, you know?"

  "Exactly,” Lee nodded. “That was what it was like. That's what I felt, the same thing you saw in that tomcat's eyes. It wasn't out looking for food; it was out looking for pain."

  They kept walking for a piece in silence, and finally Lee spoke again. “But, you know, come to think of it, I think that's how I got away. It was too greedy. It played with me for too long. It let me get too near
the light, and when it went to grab me it was too late, and I got away."

  They walked on in silence for a while longer then Lee suddenly grinned. “But, hey you wanted to see some ghosts, didn't you?"

  "We didn't actually see any,” Phoebe corrected.

  "You know what I mean."

  "I think I'd rather see a ghost than just hear ‘em,” she replied immediately. “Things are scarier if you can't see ‘em. And I know I don't want to smell ‘em anymore.” She wrinkled her nose. “God, that stink was awful."

  Lee grinned. “Talking about stink, you got to see Fat Larry."

  Phoebe came back with her own grin. “Yeah, now he was pretty scary. And at least I didn't have to get too close up."

  "That's good you didn't have to get to close, ‘cause he smells worse the closer you get.” Lee wrinkled up his nose making Phoebe laugh.

  They heard the sound of a car coming up the road behind them.

  "Duck!” Lee yelled. “It's Fat Larry."

  Lee jumped across the shallow drainage ditch to find a spot to hide amongst the thick brush along the side of the road, but Phoebe stayed where she was.

  "Phoebe!” he urged. “Come on! He'll see you!"

  She stood her ground. “I haven't done anything."

  It was too late now, though. The squad car rounded the curve and he'd seen her for sure. Lee stayed where he was, squatted down behind an abandoned stove.

  The patrol car roared up and locked up its brakes, skidding the last twenty yards and bringing with it a cloud of following gray dust. Lee stayed low, peering over the top of the stove and keeping his head down. He could see Fat Larry inside the patrol car, and the man looked pissed. As soon as the main cloud of dust had passed, Fat Larry leaned over toward the open passenger side window, grabbing on with one arm. Phoebe was standing just about a few feet away waving with her hand in an attempt to clear some dust and get a clean breath.

  "You get yer ass over here,” the fat man demanded.