The weekend had passed uneventfully enough. I had finally sat myself down to complete my homework and found various other things to occupy my time. What I didn’t know was that while my life was filled with the minutia of a teen boy the town was being slowly attacked from underground. I returned to school on Monday ready to face another day of eighth grade. I found that there were an astounding number of absences that day. There must be a bug going around, I thought. Fortunately I had not yet fallen victim and hoped that continued. The only thing I hated more than school was missing it. I had developed a reputation by maintaining perfect attendance for years and didn’t want that to end now.
As I progressed through the day I was surprised at how sluggish and lethargic many of the teachers and students seemed. This wasn’t normal for King’s Cove Elementary. Normally everyone was energetic. I always attributed this to the clean ocean air. There was something that just seemed off, but I wasn’t able to put my finger on it. Not that it was a bad thing. I wasn’t the victim of the teasing that I had grown accustomed to. Gym class and lunch went by without incident. I felt safe entering the bathroom. Didn’t have to worry about being tripped as I walked to the front of the class to solve the math problem on the board. It was as if my silent prayers had finally been answered. The walk home from school was a refreshing one. The temperature was cool even for early fall and the sea breeze which carried the oceanic smells to my nostrils brought a smile to my face. I even hummed a tune as I walked. The streets seemed strangely deserted, but I was not one to question the divine providence that had been at work in my life this day.
As I neared my home I heard a crashing through the brush. I looked up in time to see a deer running wildly toward me. Its fur was matted with blood and it seemed to pay no mind to me as it rushed in my direction. I realized nearly too late that it wasn’t going to go around me and had to dive out of the way to avoid being struck. The deer continued on into the road where it was met by an oncoming vehicle, one of the few I had seen that afternoon. There was a sick thud and a spray of blood, bone, and hair. I nearly lost my lunch as I watched the seen in horror from my rear end on the well manicured lawn of a neighbor’s home. The car didn’t stop. It hadn’t even slowed down. It just continued on its way as if the deer had been nothing more than a leaf which had blown into street.
“What’s going on around here?” I asked myself as I rose and brushed off my pants.
I kept a watchful eye out for any other strange occurrences as I finished the walk to my house. I saw nothing. Nothing that was until I arrived at my home and saw that the front door was ajar. I knew I had locked it when I’d left that morning. I, unlike many Maine residents, do not trust my neighbors enough to leave the door unlocked. Cautiously I crept up the steps, cursing under my breath at the squeak when I reached the top step. I thought I could hear a noise within the home and suddenly wished my parents had not nixed the idea of getting me my own cell phone. If I could just get into the kitchen I could dial 911 and leave the house until the police arrived. I crept through the front door thankful that my dad had oiled the hinges recently. From the foyer I peered into the kitchen. There were bloody hand prints on the wall and on the fridge, but no sign of the person who’d made them. I held my breath and slowly entered the well-lit, spacious room. My eyes constantly moved around the room looking everywhere I thought a person could hide. I was feeling good about my chances of reaching the phone when I suddenly heard a noise from the broom closet behind me. I whirled and saw the door swinging fully open and a maniacal looking man rushing across the kitchen at me. He was covered in blood and not a drop looked to be his own. I retreated from the man, but found myself pressed up against the island in the center of the kitchen. I began to slap my palm on it trying to find the phone. Instead it came down against the knife set my mom had bought from Pampered Chef.
Go, Mom, I thought.
I snatched the first knife I could get my hands on and only had time to thrust it in front of me. The blade sunk deeply into the chest of the bloodied man. He staggered backward a few steps, looked down at the knife and began to paw at it with both hands. He uttered noises that didn’t even resemble human speech. Giving up on the knife, however, he started forward again.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” I yelled. I turned around and managed to find a meat tenderizer.
I whirled in time to see the man-like thing lunge forward. I swung the tenderizer with as much force as I could muster feeling bone crunch as it struck the thing’s skull. The man dropped to the kitchen floor and twitched three times before remaining still.
“Take that, sucker!” I yelled and kicked the body twice for good measure.
My adrenaline was flowing and if I was honest with myself I would have to say that killing the man or whatever he was, felt good. Not in the crazy I want to torture small animals way, but it felt good nonetheless. My heart was racing and I was having trouble catching my breath. I wanted to just collapse on the couch and watch some television, but I knew the police would need to be called.
I made the call and the officer said they would have someone over to my house as soon as possible. Apparently they were currently being inundated by calls. After hanging up with the police I knew I should also call my mother. She would be worried sick and would likely want to rush right home to look after her baby. I dialed her cell number which she answered on the first ring.
“Is everything okay?” she asked without a greeting.
“Hi, Mom. I’m fine. How are you?”
“Just answer the question. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom,” I lied. I knew that I should tell her what had happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “How’s Aunt Ginny?”
“She’s not doing very well, but is better now that we’re here. Thanks for asking, Freddy” she said, welling with pride as well as emotion.
“Ok. Well I’ll let you get back to her. Just wanted to say hi and that I love you.”
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” she asked, possibly suspicious of his sudden display of affection.
“I told you it’s fine, Mom. See you when you get home.”
After hanging up with my mother I closed the front door as I passed through the foyer on the way to the living room. I sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. I wasn’t really watching the programs, just letting the events of the day run through my mind. It had turned out to be such a strange day. Maybe tomorrow will be better, I thought.
It hadn’t occurred to me until the police arrived that I had been sharing my house with a dead body. The two officers that responded to my call looked as if they’d just graduated high school. They asked questions about what they referred to as “the altercation”. I answered their questions and then was advised that because the house was a crime scene I would have to stay somewhere else for the time being. Did I have a place, they asked? Yes, I responded and with that I packed an over night bag, grabbed my book bag for school, and left the house for the night, going next door to the O’Halloran’s. Mr. and Mrs. O’Halloran had been our neighbors for as long as I could remember. I’d earned extra money over the summer by mowing their lawn and was sometimes rewarded by being able to swim in their pool. When they heard what had happened they told me that I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. They offered to call my parents, but I convinced them it would not be necessary.
I told Mr. and Mrs. O’Halloran that I was a little spent by the events of that afternoon and thought that I might call it an early night. They showed me to what used to be their son’s room, but was now used as a guest bedroom. The room was small, but the bed was comfortable. I lay down and tried to close my eyes, but each time I did the frightening images from the kitchen reappeared. I turned on the television and was soon lulled to sleep by it.
I woke early the next morning. I could hear that I was not the first one up and smelled something delicious being cooked for breakfast. I quickly rifled through the overnight bag I’d packed, showered, dressed, and rushed down the stairs to join the older couple at their table for breakfast.
“Good morning, Freddy,” Mrs. O’Halloran said as I sat. She crossed from the stove and set a heaping plate in front of me.
“Good morning,” I said and then began digging into the food. It would have been rude not to.
Mr. O’Halloran turned the page of the newspaper he was reading. I spotted an article about the tanker crash on Route One over the weekend. I tried to scan the article as I shoveled bite after bite into my mouth. The article said that the tanker had been empty at the time of the crash but that HazMat crews had been called in for precautionary reasons.
“Do you mind if I take a look at that?” I asked.
“Not at all. I’m about finished anyway,” Mr. O’Halloran said as he handed the paper to me.
I stared at the picture. The ground around the tank appeared to be moist whereas everywhere else was dry.
“Is something wrong?” the man of the house asked.
“Kind of. The article says that the tanker that crashed was empty, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Well, look at this picture,” I said, handing the paper back. “Doesn’t it look like something leaked out of that tank?”
“Oh, I don’t know, son. It’s hard to tell with these newspaper photos. Why are you so interested?”
“There were just some weird things going on yesterday and I was thinking that maybe the tanker crash had something to do with it.”
“How do you figure?” he asked finishing the last of his coffee in a swallow.
“I dunno. I guess if it did leak chemicals maybe they got into the drinking water.”
“Sounds more like the plot from a movie than anything in real life, son. This is The Cove you’re talking about. Nothing exciting ever happens here.”
I finished my breakfast and grabbed my stuff for school. I was about to walk out the door when Mrs. O’Halloran stopped me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay home today? You had quite a trauma yesterday.”
“I’m fine, ma’am,” I said. “Thank you though.”
I left the house, seeing the real Mrs. O’Halloran for the last time. She waved from the front steps and went inside. I watched the door close behind her and started the walk to the school.
I entered the building. I walked down the deserted hallway, stopped at the fountain, pressed the button, and watched the water flow. I bent, lips nearly touching the clear fluid when a thought crossed my mind. What if it is something in the water? I took another look at it as it arced, hit the metal, and then flowed down the drain. It looked refreshing and I was very tempted, but instead I released the button. It wouldn’t do to take chances. Instead I popped some change into the soda machine and selected a bottle of water. The thump it made as it dropped sounded very loud against the quiet of the school. I never drank tap water at home. My parents always bought bottled water. Maybe I was lucky for that.
I walked to my homeroom and was surprised to see that there were only a handful of students there. My teacher sat glumly behind his desk. I quietly took my seat and waited for the first bell.
To be continued. Look for the 4th and final part tomorrow.
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