Okay. So I’m a thief. Whatta you care? Yeah. The career choice wasn’t on any high school occupational test I took, but that’s what I am. Yeah. It’s a choice marred by risk to well-being and freedom if I were caught. But I’m pretty good, I think. Haven’t been caught yet but I never look a gift horse in the mouth. I rob mainly houses. People on vacation or out mourning their dead. As long as they weren’t home. My partner? He’s served time. His name is Bilbo. That’s not his real name but he insisted I call him that. He’s obsessed with anything Tolkien. Why a Hobbit’s name is not a question I can answer. I assume he has large, hairy feet with soles as thick as a $150.00 sneaker. Maybe it was because Bilbo was a thief in the Hobbit. God knows he was bulky like a hobbit. Maybe that’s why he’s done time. Robbery was for the slim and agile. What do I give a shit? I’m in my 50’s. A few more scores and I can retire early. Anyway, Bilbo has breaking and entering, trespassing, and robbery on his resume. He’s good, but sometimes he’s sloppy, especially under pressure. Especially at running away.
So tonight we’re sitting in the dark, far corner of the yard of a single, family home. A half acre, beyond those shitty motion-sensor lights. The house was nice. A colonial, I think. An old one which meant easy window access. Four floors including a basement. We cased the place and found the lights on within the upper three floors. The basement windows were always black as pitch. We originally thought the glass was covered with black paper or something, but we finally found out it was clear glass. They just never put the lights on down there. Weird. We usually wait till the residents are out. Problem is, in all the time watching the place, they hardly left. And one day they arrived with a huge, freakin’ safe. Nobody buys one of those jobs unless they’re hiding a shitload of rich stuff. Rich. Every time I say that word, I think of my hopeful college years and useless college degree, finding more profit in stealing other people’s success. The degree was in psychology. Only thing it taught me was that I was bent. Crazy. Hell. Look what I do for a living!
“Remember”, Bilbo said. “These fuckin’ lights cast in a wide dispersion. Stay close to the perimeter fence and we can duck under at the basement intersection point.”
He liked to make people think he knew it all, but Bilbo was full of shit. He spouted words he’d read in his stories and dictionaries. I’m surprised he doesn’t think Sauron lives in the house making fucking rings of evil. I checked my watch. 9:30. The lights on the first floor should go dark. And they did. Sauron was heading to the second floor for beddy-bye.
Bilbo picked up his small duffel bag and made his way through the long yard, along the fence. I followed his every step. Didn’t carry a duffle bag though. I usually picked locks or broke a small window for access. When I worked with him, Bilbo liked to lead. He didn’t have a chance to in the Hobbit, but now he was King Shit. We arrived parallel to the first basement window. It was black as expected and almost aligned with the kitchen window above it. The motion lights didn’t trigger. The closest had its lamps directed away from us, but the motion sensor reach included us. It could go off if we cut across directly. But Bilbo had read that the outer part of the sensor wasn’t as sensitive than the inner part. He took his mark like a sprinter waiting for the starting pistol to fire. I did the same , but I aimed myself out of the front yard and down the street in case Bilbo set the light off. He dashed and arrived at the window. The hobbit moved pretty fast. He waved me on. I redirected myself and ran, holding my breath. I arrived safely, exhaling and unclenching my sphincter. The only sound were the song of crickets.
“Okay”, Bilbo whispered. “These rich fucks won’t know what hit them.”
“Don’t get over confident”, I reminded him. “I have a clean record and want to keep it that way.”
Bilbo took a knee and rummaged through his duffle bag. He took out a thin, 2 foot ruler. He placed it in the crack between the upper frame and pane, sliding it. It moved freely.
“Ahh, shit.”
He placed it in the lower, frame separation and was clearly looking for an obstruction. He slid right to left and found it. The lock or latch. He applied pressure. After a moment, the obstruction gave way and the window popped from its edge and hung open. Probably a hook latch. God, I love old houses. He pushed the window in and reached with it along its lower edge. The hinges were on the upper edge. As he pushed up, he found the hook with his fingers. It likely doubled as a way to keep the window open. After a moment, I heard a sharp click. Bilbo had locked the hook into its sibling eye hook. The window stayed opened. I love old houses.
The blackness was pure. Absolutely no details of the basement structure appeared. No walls, pipes, hanging electrical outlets. Nothing past the window. There was something else. The blackness looked…well…wet. Like fresh paint.
“Hold on, Bilbo”, I said. “Look at the darkness. The blackness. It looks weird. Like it’s wet or something.”
“Fuck that and give me the flashlight.”
I did. The beam scanned the interior. It seemed to reflect back at us. Like headlights in thick fog, except this fog was black. Bilbo hung in at torso and then halfway in at waist.
“I see a water heater”, he recited. “A boiler. Some old bicycles. A sink. Washer. Dryer.” He pulled himself out. “No safe, but they keep the lights off down here. It could be in a corner beyond my reach. I’m going in. If I find it, I’ll flash the light three times.”
I nodded. He rotated, placing his feet and legs through the window. He slid in, his clothes rubbing against the pane. He stopped for a moment as the sound seemed very loud. But during break-in’s, sound was always loud via paranoia. Bilbo’s feet found ground and he stopped.
“That’s it”, he smiled, relieved. “The floor. It’s warm down here.”
If he wasn’t holding the damn flashlight, I would’ve never known he was there. He was wearing black within blackness. He was invisible.
“Three flashes and I’ll bring down the equipment.”
“I’ll be quick”, Bilbo said.
He moved passed the window. I waited a few minutes then leaned in with a flashlight ready. To the left, nothing. To the right, a light beam scanning the darkness. I felt some relief. I wasn’t good with pitch black. I was fine with darkness, but not pitch black. The type of shit where you couldn’t even see you’re hands.
The beam stopped moving and came to rest on an object on the floor. From the distance all I could make out was that it was square. Bingo! The flashlight beam pointed at me and turned on and off three times. Bingo.
“What the fuck!?” Bilbo had shouted. Any sound, especially a goddamn shout, in the middle of a quiet robbery was a death knell.
His flashlight beam began to shake. Move back and forth between extreme angles. Up and down. I heard a shuffling and what sounded like what I can only describe as moistness. Like pouring paint from a can into a roller pan. The spatter upon contact. The wetness. Then the beam had shone directly at me. And then it went out.
I lit my flashlight and scanned the area where I saw Bilbo’s light. Nothing. The floor was unfinished concrete but no sign of him. Then the light fell onto the distant profile of the safe. It was right where Bilbo had been. Now wasn’t. The room went from warm to cold. My breath was appearing in the flashlight beam. A shrieking sound resounded. It was distant. But then it came closer and closer….
I pulled myself out of the basement window. It remained open. Nothing came out. I quickly extinguished my flashlight. It was dead silent. Thing is, even the crickets were quiet. So I waited.
And waited. There was no sign from Bilbo. The 1st floor was still dark, so was the 3rd. The 2nd floor still had lights on in a few rooms. I figured they were reading or watching television. But absolutely no sign that Bilbo had been caught. No alarm. Not even police sirens. What the fuck! Nobody heard him shout!? Nobody heard the shriek!?
I waited again. No sign. I was afraid to lean in with the flashlight. Bullshit! Bilbo had encountered something and it was not normal. The black wetness. No 1st floor lights coming on. Hell! No basement lights coming on!
It was midnight. Been about 2 hours. No sign of Bilbo. I decided a course of action. I took Bilbo’s duffle bag, maneuvered my way away from the motion-sensor lights and walked to the sidewalk, remaining in the shadow of the tree branches. Plenty of space between the houses. Just had to hope none of their cameras could spot me. I threw his bag into a drainage ravine. Bilbo and me parked about 10 blocks away and followed the ravine in since it ran through the yards out of sight. Then I threw in my black hoodie. So with just a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, I’d be an average passerby. Yeah. All my clothes were black. Fuck it. Maybe I was an artist. Then I called the police.
“Yes”, I said. “I’d like to report a missing person. 7562 Lincoln Place. I saw a guy enter the basement and heard a scream. He never came out.”
I hung up and threw the prepaid phone into the ravine as well. Not sure if Bilbo used them, but I used pre-paid phones all the time. Can’t trace the number. I’d like to think I wasn’t caught because of the practice. I knew if Bilbo were still alive, I had just turned him in. But I knew he wasn’t. In my gut. Something in the basement got him and I was scared out of my wits.
Five minutes later, two patrol cars arrived. Fancy neighborhood, prompt cops. Lights flashing, sirens blaring. Sirens extinguished, the four cops exited their cars, weapons drawn. They stepped onto the lawn and the motion sensor lights lit up cause it was showtime. The cops went on either side of the house and eventually met at the open basement window. The 1st floor lights came on.
Neighbors in pajamas and jogging clothes came out of their houses quickly and gathered along the front walk. A few were holding their dogs. All Yorkies. Rubberneckers move fast around here. Probably not that much to do for fun. I blended in with them. Just a casual, concerned rubber-necker passing by.
The front door of the house opened and two people came out in bathrobes. Pajamas underneath. Probably husband and wife. They came around to the police at the open basement window. From my sidewalk point of view, these homeowners seemed oblivious. They pointed to the open basement window and shook their heads. A patrolman leaned in, up to his waist, and he was instantly pulled in. The other officers jumped back as did the homeowners. Another officer leaned in, this time up to half of her torso.
“Kyle!” We could all hear her shouting. She was sucked in like Kyle.
The officer in charge directed the neighbors to the front yard. We could hear better now.
“Get me into that basement, now, goddammit!” The officer was angry but you could tell in the voice that he was scared.
“Well, that might be a problem…”, the husband said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.
“Now!”
“We can’t!” The wife turned to the officer. Her face pleading. Her red hair falling uncontrollably around her head. “Not at night!”
“What the hell are you talking about”, the officer demanded. “I have officers down!”
“Not at night”, she said calmer. “In the morning, with daylight.”
“Bullshit!” The officer ran up the steps into the house.
“Wait! You don’t understand”, the husband pleaded.
From the sidewalk, we watched the basement lights flicker to life. A shriek resounded. Whatever was in the basement didn’t like light.
The crowd instantly piled onto the lawn to watch through the four, side basement windows, now lit up courtesy the ceiling lights. Keeping a safe distance, we were mesmerized. The officer came down the stairs quickly, weapon drawn, nearly falling. He pivoted slowly, right to left and back again. He stopped.
“Jesus Christ.” He walked forward, towards the windows the crowd was looking through. It was like being around a cage at the zoo at feeding time. He stooped down and stood holding a torn off hand still clinging to it’s handgun. A thick paste dripped from it. A shriek. He dropped the hand and pointed his gun, scanning the basement. Suddenly a popping sound. Starting at the open window, the light bulbs began to shatter. Glass and sparks. Until the only light was what was being cast down the stairs from the 1st floor. Brutal darkness. The officer stepped into the light field being cast down along the stairs. We could see his blond hair.x
Two shots fired. “No!” A glimpse of blackness around him and silence.
The remaining officer, Hills according to her name tag, stood in shock. She holstered her weapon and pressed her microphone.
“This is Hills over at 7562 Lincoln Place”, she said shaken. “Three officers down. Shots fired. Need backup. Lots of backup.”
The neighbors looked at one another. Then one older woman with a thick, quilted bathrobe, gray hair in curlers, and Yorkie with a bow on its head looked at me. Even her furry slippers had Yorkie heads on them.
“Who are you?”
“Just a passerby, ma’am”, I smiled. “Beautiful dog. Yorkie I think.”
She smiled cautiously and then nodded. My new best friend. She quickly turned to another neighbor, her expression turning sour. “I never trusted the Cowels. Hardly leave their house. Now they have a shrieking monkey in their basement. The nerve.”
So that’s who owned the house. The weird Cowel family. Well actually, couple. Haven’t seen any kids come out. Maybe they went into the basement at some point. Mr. and Mrs. Cowel were talking stealthily to one another. Obviously so nobody overheard them. They were adamant about not going in the basement at night. Unfortunately, thieves use the night. And tonight, Bilbo and three cops paid for it.
Lights and sirens came closer. Four patrol cars skidded to a halt in front of the Cowels, two jumped the curb onto their front, perfectly groomed lawn. Four black streaks behind their rear tires.Two firetrucks pulled up as well and three ambulances. I don’t think anyone’s waiting for daylight. A police officer approached Hills. Tall, husky. Intimidating to the smaller Hills if you asked me. Towering over all his fellow officers, in fact. And me. He was also African-American.
“Give me a report, Hills”, he said.
“Three officers down, missing, after entering the basement, Sergeant.”
“Injured, dead, or missing, Hills. Which is it?”
“Missing”, she said quickly. “We think there’s some animal down there. Doesn’t like the light.”
The woman with the Yorkie moved forward a few yards, closer to the house. “It was a goddamn monkey”, she said shouting. “We all heard the shrieks!”
The rest of us moved forward to come in line with Yorkie-lady. We could hear better. I could now see the name tag on the giant of a cop: Sheeply. He turned to the Cowels.
“You the homeowners?”
They nodded.
“What kind of animal or monkey do you have in there? Is it rabid?”
“It’s not a monkey”, Mr. Cowel said. “It’s…it’s a…we don’t know what it is. It came with the house.”
“What the hell does that mean”, Sheeply said.
“It came with the house”, Mrs. Cowel interjected. “We learned it doesn’t like light and comes out only at night. So we only go in the basement during the day.”
“So it’s some kinda animal you don’t recognize.”
“All we know is that it’s black”, she added. “Blacker than you. Are you actually in charge? I think it’s wonderful the career opportunities afforded our African-American brethren.”
We all froze and watched Sheeply. He shook his head. A shake that clearly meant racist fucks.
“I really hate calls in rich neighborhoods.” He turned to Hills. “Get animal control down here. And I need some light in that basement to see my officers. Get some lights and generators here. Meantime, I want flares through those windows. Who made the original call?”
“It came from a pre-paid phone, Sergeant”, Hills said.
Sheeply looked at us. Eyeing the crowd in pajamas, jogging clothes, and me. We locked eyes. Fuck. He turned away at the sound of glass breaking. The remaining three windows for the basement side we were facing were shattered. A cop, starting with the window Bilbo went through, lit an emergency flare and threw it in. No sound. When he did the same to the second window, a shriek resounded. The third had the same effect. The basement was illuminated in flare-red.
“Monkey don’t like that shit!” The neighbor who shouted was an average looking dude in his pajamas and bathrobe. Obvious hairpiece that made him look like a monk. Otherwise unassuming. I guess he’d rather shout shit out after the fact than actually find confrontation. Well, that’s what he did. He seemed proud of himself.
Both Sheeply and Hills shook their heads. “I hate calls in rich neighborhoods”, she said.
“Okay!” Sheeply marched through the yard. “I want eyes on all sides of the house. Weapons drawn. Fire at will if this thing shows its face.” Officers, including Hill, took a position around the house ready to fire.
“When are my lights getting here, Hills?”
“Ten minutes out, Sergeant.”
Sheeply pressed his mic. “Can you see any injured?”
“Nothing”, came back over the mic’s speaker. “Nothing here”, Hills announced.
Sheeply waved over the Cowels. We were all in a prime viewing and listening spot. “What the fuck is in the basement that people broke in to get it?”
“There was a break-in?” Mrs. Cowel was a shitty actress.
“Don’t play with me”, Sheeply said. “We get an anonymous call about someone climbing into your basement and disappearing and find a window open. You obviously didn’t open it because you don’t go into the basement at night.”
The Cowels were silent.
“What’s…in…the…goddamn…basement?” Sheeply’s gaze didn’t swerve. This guy was good. If he’d looked at me like that, I’d be pissin’ in my pants.
“A safe”, Mr Cowel finally volunteered. “It contains some expensive heirlooms and a great deal of cash. We put it down there because whatever it is, we knew it’d be well protected.”
Another shriek. Everybody’s attention was drawn to the glowing, reddish basement. Something moved across the length of the room, periodically blotting out some flare-light.
The crowd emitted a “Holy Shit” in unison. The flares died down to cinders. Just then, a flatbed with large halogen lights as its payload arrived. Like the giant Hollywood movie lights. In short order, the lights were setup on both sides of the house. The generator sputtered to life and cast brilliant illumination into the basement from all sides. Loud shrieks went out as light filled every crack of the level. Whatever it was, it shrieked as it moved throughout the basement, illuminated for milliseconds and in flashes. Then it stopped. Perhaps it found a dark corner of the basement to hide in. The lights were powerful, causing the crowd to cover their eyes.
“Any eyes on the wounded”, Sheeply said into his mic. After some silence…”Nothing here”, came from the mic. “No”, followed. Then Hills announced, “Something here.”
The officers, Cowels and crowd moved closer. Hills was just feet from our window, Sheeply just behind her. In the washed out basement, on the floor lit up by fierce light, there was a severed hand holding a gun. And what looked like a shredded uniform.
“Oh my God”, Hills said.
Just then the generator quit. The brilliant light was gone. A shriek sounded and what looked liked black, wet ropes shot out of the windows and wrapped around Hills’ legs. She fell on her back and was dragged towards the window. “Somebody help me….”, was all she could say before being sucked into the basement. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cowel had their legs grabbed too. This time from the 2nd window. Sheeply dove for Mr. Cowels’ hands and he was dragged along. Mrs. Cowel’s scream was cut off as she entered the window. Mr. Cowel was pulled to the windows and then enveloped by these ropes….tentacles…arms. His screams were muffled as he was pulled in. Sheeply was a few feet from the window when the ropes wrapped around his hands and wrists and pulled.
Instinctively, I rushed for the closest officer and grabbed one of his emergency flares. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. Just that there’s some obvious precautions that the cops were missing. Like fire. And like distance. Dumb mother-fuckers. Igniting the flare, I threw it into the window. A shriek sounded off and the pitch black, wet ropes released Sheeply. But his hands were burnt. Almost skeleton and the skin was nearly dissolved around his wrists. I pulled him back, closer to an ambulance.
“Thanks, friend”, Sheeply managed in pain. He looked at me. “You started this. You made the call.” He passed out as firefighters and EMT’s ran over and quickly addressed his wounds.
I stepped back to the crowd. Yorkie-lady smiled. Seductively. “That was very brave. Would you like to hold my dog?” I waved and shook my head. “One good deed at a time, ma’am.”
A truck with flashing lights sped over the curb and skidded to a halt leaving a trail on the well-groomed grass. Animal Control was here. Obviously from the large-as-life words on the side of their vehicle. The two workers, male and female, exited the truck. He had half his head shaved and she had all-pink hair. “I hear you got a pissed off monkey in a basement”, he said. Oh, Christ. These two were definitely next on the menu. It wasn’t their punk-rock appearance. I don’t judge. It was the fact this basement black was no monkey.
The generator was re-started. The new officer-in-charge, Billings, ordered a backup be brought in. Again. With the spotlights re-lit and the immediate shrieking subsided, Animal Control entered from the stairs. We all stared from the lawn. It wasn’t even lawn anymore . It was trampled into a viewing platform.
Their shadows from stair light were absent thanks to the massive halogen lamps. More neighbors had joined us, most with dogs and all were being carried. I started to think they were paraplegic dogs since leashes seemed to be banned in this neighborhood. They walked down and entered at the foot of the stairs. Wearing shades thanks to the brilliant light.
Is it me or am I the only one who can tell who will be killed because of dumb-shit behavior. I wish I were live on Facebook or Instagram! I’d be a goddamn influencer by now making tons of cash on advertisements. So be it. I’m just a thief who found a monster. Who the hell am I?
The Animal Control duo carried a cage, just right for something the size of a monkey. They also carried what looked liked stun sticks…the kind you prodded cattle with. Great if there were something to prod. This is as fucked as all the other prior attempts. Bilbo would be laughing his ass off if he wasn’t eaten. They set the cage down on the floor and separated about two yards, holding their Klingon pain sticks forward. No movement or sound.
“C’mon, pissed-off monkey”, the male said. “C’mon to some pain.”
The crowd stood silently. Waiting for monkey or death. I thought if the blackness could understand English, the douchebag just pissed it off. Here we go.
A shriek. No movement. It was waiting. Either for the generator to go out or for that dumb-fuck to piss it off enough. Turned out the latter was the case. A black rope shot out from the left wall. Our left. A dark area the floodlights couldn’t fill. It smashed the cage against the wall, compacting it. This fucker was methodical. Fuck the cage. You can’t capture me. The male nodded to the female and she pulled a large spotlight around her shoulder that had been hanging behind her. She lit it up, shining it across the basement to the wall furthest from her, the accursed left wall.
We inched in closer across the lawn, craning for a better view of the newly illuminated area. There were no utilities. No appliances. Nothing to hide behind. Only the darkness that a corner afforded as long as light wasn’t shown directly into it. But now it had.
A wet, black mass, clearly different from shadow and the night, flowed faster and faster in the far corner, near a broken window just out of reach of the light beams. Then a shriek. If it experienced pain from light, it was clearly willing to endure that to kill the threats to its person…or thingness. The red light from flares or white light from halogen lamps clearly hurt it, but didn’t stop it. Get out now Animal Control idiots. Run the fuck up those stairs as fast as your legs can carry you.
A shriek. Something black and wet shot from the corner, blocking the lights momentarily, and wrapped itself around the female. Her light went out and her screams became muffled. The male watched, his face turning horrified. He was likely seeing what we had seen. Melting flesh and bone. He dashed up the stairs and disappeared from view. A black rope shot out and his screams stopped. With multiple thuds, presumably his head hitting each step, the male came back into view and was enveloped by the wet blackness. When it finished its attack and went back to its corner, there were no signs of Animal Control in the basement.
At that point I was thinking flame thrower. Burn this fuckin’ place down to the foundation and fuck-thing with it.
All was quiet. Both outside and inside. Billings looked at his fellow officers. He clearly didn’t know what to do.
“Flamethrower”, I shouted.
The crowd simultaneously looked to me. Their faces filled with a ‘what-the-fuck-did-you-say’ expression. Fuck you. I said it.
“A flamethrower”, I said again. “Shut the gas off to the house and burn the fucker. Even bring the house down on top of it. It’s not like the place is gonna sell again.” I looked at the crowd looking back at me. “And what will happen to the property values in the neighborhood with a house that can’t be sold because it has a monster in the basement.”
The crowd looked at one another. They started nodding. Yorkie-lady raised her fist. “Burn the fucker down! Burn the fucker down!”
The rest of the neighbors looked at one another and then raised their fists. “Burn the fucker down”, they shouted. “Burn the fucker down!” Their dogs began howling. Even they wanted it burnt down.
Billings looked at us. He shrugged and raised his microphone. “Get the National Guard in here with two flamethrowers. I’m calling a bio-hazard threat. Highest level.”
Nice. But I thought of the safe. The Cowels had some rich shit in there. Too bad I couldn’t get to it without being eaten. Maybe it’ll survive the fire and I could come back? Nah. I just wanted answers on Bilbo. But he was gone and so were the hopes to acquire the contents of the safe. Fuck it. I’d rather live another day.
3am. My rubber-necking peeps watched as the floodlights filled the basement with quasi-deadly light. The thing hadn’t moved. Or shrieked. In fact the only thing that came to life was Sheeply, his wrists covered in bulk with bandages, bloodied at that. Almost looked like red boxing gloves. He stepped out of the ambulance and marched towards us. Oh, shit. He stopped at Yorkie-lady. I had hoped she would distract him from my running off, but no such luck.
“How are you feeling, officer”, she said.
“Fine, ma’am”, he said looking into the crowd. He locked eyes with me. “You!”
Fuck, shit, and ass times infinity. “Who me?”
“Here. Now”
I cowardly, and I mean cowardly with my head lowered and moving slow, walked to him. He used his bandaged hand and pulled me aside beyond the earshot of the crowd.
“You stand out”, he said. “Not like the others. You called this shit show in. Why is what I want to know!?”
Fuck it. I wanted to know what happened to Bilbo and now I’m fucked. “My partner and I tried to get to the safe in the basement, He got fucked. I wanted to know what happened to him.”
“You could’ve run off. Been free of this mess.”
“I needed to know”, I declared. “I liked him. At least a little bit.”
“Hell of a shit storm you dredged up”, Sheeply said.
“Bullshit. This would’ve happened eventually. The Cowels were assholes.”
“True enough. But we wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for your breaking in.”
“Like I said”, I declared adamantly. “ Me or someone else, you still would’ve been here eventually.”
“Tell me what you know”, Sheeply said, lowering his head with weakness.
“Tried to rob a safe. Something ate my partner. Watching other people get eaten. How’s that?”
“Not good enough.”
“It’ll have to be. It’s the truth and you’re facing something that’s out of your league.”
A shriek.
“How ‘bout I send you in to that basement?”
“You’re no murderer, Officer Sheeply.”
“Maybe I am.”
“The dead aren’t your fault. You don’t know what your facing.”
“And what am I facing?”
“A fucking monster”, I said confidently. “This neighborhood is old. Most of the houses on this block alone are at least 200 years old. It’s probably at least that. But you can kill it.”
“By burning it?”
“It hates light and therefore fire”, I said like I had done it before. “No more bullshit and dead officers and civilians. You have the power, so use it. Burn the bastard for all the lives it’s taken.”
Sheeply was silent. He waved an officer over with his bandaged hand.
“Sergeant?” The underling was green as asparagus.
“Officer Gortle. Is the National Guard inbound?” Sheeply continued to look at me.
“Five minutes”, Gortle said. “Flamethrowers and all.”
Sheeply nodded and winced in pain. “I have you to thank for saving me.”
I didn’t answer. It was a classic blackmail moment but I didn’t point that out.
Sheeply raised a bandaged hand. “Thank you.”
I hesitated. You don’t control me, Sheeply. Fuck it. I took his boxing glove and shook.
“You didn’t cause this”, he said. “You just called it in. Don’t think I should cuff you.”
“I don’t think you should either.”
He grimaced. “Don’t push it. The Cowels hid something that served their needs but they didn’t understand how dangerous it was. Now they and us are paying for it.”
“Burn it, Sergeant.”
“I agree. No more dead. Kill it and bury it in ash.”
All of a sudden, the lights went out. The generator shut down without a backup. A brave cop leaning in as the light shut off, perhaps looking for a reputation at an early stage in her career, was suddenly pulled further through the basement window. As she slid, another cop jumped and landed on her legs, taking a good grip. Another cop grabbed her and they pulled. The officer hanging through came out. Her entire upper body was skeleton, with pieces of flesh dripping off. Like she was covered in reddish glue that dissolved her skin. Even half her uniform was gone. The generator was started again and the bright lights came to life.
“Jesus”, Sheeply said. “This mother fucker needs to die.”
Two hum-vies pulled up with a military transport truck. Out stepped National Guardsman armed with rifles and from the truck two Guardsman in hazmat suits, fully sealed from outside assault. They were followed by Guardsman carrying flamethrower units, lifting the harnessed tanks onto the backs of the hazmat suited soldiers. They were then handed the flamethrower rifles. The two moved towards either side of the house. The neighborhood needed this burn, both for safety and for humility. Fuck the rich.
“Ready”, the hazmat soldier said from our side of the house through his mask headpiece.
Sheeply nodded to Gortle. “Gas has been shut down so burn away”, the rookie announced into his mic.
Pure, unfettered flame emitted from the flamethrower rifle. Unbiased and ready to burn. The crowd stepped back from the heat as it entered the basement window closest to the front of the house, filling every crevice that the blackness could hide in. Simultaneously, flame flew in from the other side of the house, right into the corner that the generator lights couldn’t fill. A shriek sounded and continued as whatever it was had no where left to hide.
The blackness shifted throughout the basement, moving through the flame, shrieking wildly as it went. It suddenly disappeared at the window the flame-throwing Guardsman was standing at. We didn’t know if it was dead. Only that it had stopped shrieking…or speaking. The flames flew from the basement windows, licking the 1st floor. Then that floor ignited, flames curling up to the 2nd. The Guardsman and their flamethrowers kept pouring it on. Even though the flames burned on their own just fine.
It was sad. Bilbo. He found the safe and would’ve been rich had it not been for this scumbag blackness. He’d be alive had it not been for the shrieking monkey blackness.
With a renewed shriek, the blackness erupted from the window, flying directly at the Guardsman. It impacted his head, precisely above the shoulders, enveloping the hazmat helmet. Without breaking flight or motion, it landed behind him. The headless Guardsman fell back flat on the lawn, his extinguished flamethrower falling from his dead hands to the grass.
The blackness waited on the grass before the crowd, its wet surface reflecting the flickering flame of the dying house. Without a face they didn’t know which way it was facing. That point was quickly resolved when it extended two, 3 foot ropes and spiked them into the ground. It began dragging itself towards the crowd of neighbors across the yard, leaving a trail of burnt, dead grass.
Sheeply and me just stared in awe. “Safe to say it’s not a monkey”, he quipped.
It moved quicker and the neighbors rushed towards the street. All except for the guy who shouted “monkey don’t like that shit.” He froze.
“Move, goddammit”, Sheeply shouted. “Move!”
The blackness impacted the neighbor’s lower body, right at the waist. Whether it was precise on purpose or was being random was beyond my thought process. Passing right through him, it fled into the ravine Bilbo and I had followed in. The guy stood in shock. He began to wobble, unable to stand as his entire lower body was dripping bone. Picked clean of all the meat. He collapsed to the grass, his legs snapping at the knees like two wooden matches.
The crowd screamed. Yorkie-lady hugged her dog. “Poor Mr. Wints.” She turned to the neighbor next to her. “I always thought he was so outspoken. He should never have said “monkey don’t like that shit”.”
The roof collapsed into the floor below it. Then all collapsed into the 1st floor. It was dawn and the house was old. Even with renovations it had no problem succumbing to flame. Then everything collapsed into the basement. Time to go. I walked to the sidewalk and continued up the block. Taking the ravine would be quicker to get to the car, but the shrieking monkey blackness owned the ravine now. I wondered where it would go. It killed but just seemed to want to be left alone. A lot of really old houses on this side of town. Plenty of old basements. I thought old houses were easy to break into. I also thought I’d retire early.