Evergreen by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 24

Tom woke especially early. He had requested the day off so as to prepare for Thanksgiving, going to the grocery store before the rest of the town got there. Walking quietly to Katie’s bedroom door and silently cracked it open. He didn’t want to be the kind of parent who constantly hovered, but out of parental paranoia, he always checked on her first thing in the morning and as a sliver of light sliced through the early morning darkness, Tom was horrified to find Katie’s bed empty and throwing the door open, he turned on the light. The covers had not been disturbed and searching the room, found her jacket and hiking shoes missing. He bolted out of the room and picking up the phone called Christine. Her tired voice answered after nearly a dozen rings.

“Hello,” she said.

Tom’s voice was frantic she pleaded for her help. “Tom... Tom...just calm down,” she continued. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

Tom managed to bring his voice down to a moderate panic as he repeated himself to Christine’s now alert ears. She hung on Tom’s every word.

“Tom, listen to me,” she began. “Meet me at the office. I’ll call the deputy.”

They both knew where Katie had gone. She was both adventurous and willful. In a city the size of Portland, the chances of Katie getting herself into trouble would be especially high.

Christine and Tom met in front of her office, moments before Chuck arrived. Also arriving was Bobby’s mother, who discovered him to be missing as well. Everyone was in crisis mode, with the exception of Christine. Even Chuck was somewhat confused. Yet, all agreed that they were likely up at the Redfield house. The fact that they had been gone the entire night seemed to spell out a terrible portent for the disaster every parent fears.

“Guys, stay here,” Christine began. “We’ll go up and bring them right back.”

Tom immediately spoke up.

“Oh no, I’m going with you. She’s all I’ve got.” Christine knew that Tom would not be left to wait and during a moment of intense eye contact, Bobby’s mother spoke up as well.

“I’m going too.”

Christine let out a sigh of resignation. “Alright,” she began. “But stay out of the way. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Christine and Chuck got into the police blazer as Bobby’s mother climbed into Tom’s truck.

It seemed to take only minutes to arrive at the house. But with its driveway overgrown from decades of abandonment, the group was forced to walk the short distance from the road. Christine and Chuck took the lead as their feet kicked through the November snow. Behind them, Tom had taken Bobby’s mother by the arm, helping her through the woods. Hurrying as quickly as possible, the house shortly came into view as Christine and Chuck aimed their flashlights through the early morning darkness. As they approached the house's façade, Bobby’s mother, having never seen it until now, began to break down tears. Tom, however, was on Christine’s heels, ready to charge in, but having sensed his presence, Christine put out a hand as she unfastened the snap of her holster.

“Tom,” she said. “Let us do our job.” She looked past him at Bobby’s mother while carefully drawing her revolver.

“Why don’t you try to keep Bobby’s mother calm, okay?” He didn’t like being put into a position of not being in control, but he knew Christine was right. It was their job, and Bobby’s mother was quickly approaching and emotional catatonia.

Tom stepped away from the house as Christine and Chuck made their way up the steps to the front door. With their revolvers drawn and pointed downward, they glanced through the front doors leaded crystal window. Looking down at the door, Christine was quick to notice the padlock holding the door securely shut and wondered how Bobby and Katie might have gotten in. But, there was no time to look for the back door and raising her revolver, Christine fired a single round while Chuck turned away from the line of fire. The loud crack of the discharging round rang through the woods as the lock shattered, leaving pieces of itself on the porch. Having assumed the involvement of foul play, she opened the door slowly, sweeping the immediate area with her revolver. Chuck followed as they entered the house's first floor, shining their lights well ahead of their steps.

They gave almost no notice to the furnishings still placed around the house and in completing their search of the first floor; they climbed the staircase to the second. As before, their search turned up nothing. They weren’t looking for details. That would come later. For now, their goal was to search the house as quickly as possible. Every room, every closet, and corner.

“Anything?” Christine asked.

Chuck shook his head with an obvious look of concern. She sighed in frustration and motioning Chuck over, started towards the staircase, leading to the third floor. Once at the top, they scanned the area with their flashlights, sweeping the broad space of the third floor with their revolvers. Moving from the top of the staircase, they soon found themselves facing the closed door of the back room.

With their revolvers pointed toward the floor, Christine and Chuck flanked the door on both sides. Slowly turning the doorknob, Chuck threw the door open as Christine dodged around the door frame, sweeping the room. The beam of her flashlight shone broadly against the walls. Then, its cold ray found that the floor. Christine felt the blood leave her head as her heart began pounding in her chest as Katie lay dead in front of her. Her chest and abdomen carved open, her organs spilling out onto the floor. There was no need to look for a pulse. Any measure of heroic action would have been pointless. Chuck followed her in. But one look at Katie’s body sent him back out of the room. Even Christine had never seen anything this gruesome. Walking over to Bobby, she discovered that both hands were covered with dried blood. It appeared that he had died in a sitting position, his right side leaning against the wall. But there was one thing, in particular, Christine noticed about his body. It had been less than twenty-four hours since the two had last been seen, but Bobby gave the appearance of advanced age.

The house had become a time trap. A door had been forced open long ago and the malicious legions of hell called out. The outside world had gone unchanged. But inside, an entire lifetime had passed, leaving Bobby old and frail. The house had had its fill.

Chuck entered the room while the contents of his stomach lay in a puddle in a corner outside the door. He brought a hand to his face as the smell of decay wafted past his nose. He glanced over Katie’s open body. Her organs were still and pale. Her eyes lifelessly staring at the ceiling, while her face had been drawn into a slightly relaxed open mouth smile. Stepping towards the wall, Chuck began to examine Bobby’s ancient remains when something caught his attention. Christine had noticed that as well. Something had been painted on the wall above Bobby’s head.

“Is that blood?” Chuck asked.

Christine was studying it closely.

“Sure looks like it,” she answered.

He stood back from it by four or five feet. “What does it say?” he asked.

Christine stepped back next to him as both studied the words that had been wiped across the wall.

‘runnin round round with

my pants down down’

They both stood with a puzzled look on their faces. “What the hell does that mean?” Chuck asked. Christine stood next to him, shaking her head slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything Chuck,” she answered.

It was the first time she had referred to him by anything other than ‘deputy’ as she had become caught up in the emotion of what was easily the most tragic event of her career - perhaps her entire life.

Pulling his attention from the wall’s cryptic words, Chuck knelt down next to Bobby’s body and shining his flashlight into his lifeless face was stunned by its aged appearance.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

He was at a loss to explain the bizarre transformation that had, seemingly, taken only hours to complete. “He looks like George, that old guy downtown.” Christine’s voice assumed a slight tone of resentment as she spoke without looking at him.

“Chuck,” she began. “That old guy, George? He’s my son.”

Chuck was suddenly thrown into a dizzying state of shock and standing up, he looked at Christine with an expression for which there were no words.

“What?”

Christine nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” she answered.

Tears began rolling down her face as she explained the events going back roughly five years. Her son had disappeared one cold December day and while a few of the townspeople combed the woods surrounding evergreen, an elderly man was found walking naked through the snow, the cold leaving him near collapse. The town was alerted, but everyone had been accounted for. Everyone but Christine’s son and while the search continued, the elderly man’s fingerprints had been entered into the state’s database. Only one match came up. The elderly man was, indeed, Christine’s son. As a law enforcement officer and mother, she had taken the precaution of fingerprinting him and uploading them to the states Amber Alert server. However, she never dreamt she would actually need them.

They stepped out of the room, Chuck closing the door behind them. Christine leaned against the door and slid down towards the floor. She took out her cell phone and fighting back an outpouring of tears, called the town’s doctor.

“Yeah, doc?”

It was still early in the morning, but the light of oncoming dawn was just beginning to touch the eastern horizon. The doctor was not accustomed to being called at home, especially this early in the day.

“I need you up at the Redfield house.” There was a pause, then a sigh.

“Who is it this time?” he asked.

Another pause.

“It’s Bobby and Katie,” Christine answered. “Jesus Christ,” the doctor replied. “You know we can’t report this.”

It had happened before. Before Christine’s son had become an ancient, frail shell. He was the only person to escape the houses maddening grasp. But, the experience had left him without his wits, unable to tell anyone how he had been able to leave. Perhaps the house offered him a small degree of mercy, making visible a door or window. But, the doctor had been around long enough to know that, every once in a while, the house would rumble with hunger and it wouldn’t be long before another of the town’s children would turn up missing.

“Is Tom there?” he asked.

“No,” Christine answered. “He’s outside.”

“Don’t let him in there,” the doctor replied. “This is going to be hard enough for him.”

She let out a deep sigh, anticipating Tom’s reaction to the news of his young daughter’s grisly death. “I know,” she said.

“Okay,” he continued. “I’ll be right there.”

For as long as she had been in Evergreen, Christine had never been placed in the position of notifying next of kin. An occasional accident was one thing, but reporting the death of a child was an unbearable burden. However, it was a report she was obligated to deliver and walking down the three flights of stairs, Christine struggled to find the words that might cushion the devastating news of Katie’s demise. But tragedy cannot be sugar-coated. She would also have to deliver a similar message to Bobby’s mother. She had lived a fairly isolated life and knew very little of the house’s history and given the condition of Bobby’s body; it was a foregone conclusion that she would not understand.

Christine and Chuck walked out of the house. The soles of their boots made a crunching sound against the snow. There were no right words for what she was about to say, but it was her expression that spoke for her. Both Tom and Bobby’s mother saw the anguish on her face and heard the pain in her voice. The words ‘I’m sorry’ seemed wholly inadequate. Yet, those two words can often say what a litany of well-meaning speech cannot and as Tom broke down, Chuck caught Bobby’s mother as grief forced her into unconsciousness.

“I want to see her!” he cried.

Christine threw her arms around him as he quickly dropped to his knees.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tom,” she replied. Chuck helped Bobby’s mother to the ground. His training had prepared him for what needed to be done, but not the emotions and as he and Christine tried to maintain their professional bearing, both found it a thin disguise as their eyes welled up with tears.

The town’s doctor finally arrived. Christine quickly walked over and spoke to him in a quiet voice. “They’re on the third floor, in the back room.” The doctor knew exactly what he would see. It was the same every time, but it had been a few years since it last happened and it was always teenagers, those who were just beginning to sample a taste for life. The house had fallen into a satiated slumber, unaffected by those who now wandered through its hallways, clearing away the leftovers from its most recent meal. The doctor returned within only fifteen minutes. He stood in the snow, near the front steps as Christine and Chuck continued to comfort the parents. Christine stepped away momentarily to consult with him. An ambulance was already on the way and chances were pretty good that the technicians had never seen anything remotely similar to what they were about to encounter.

One at a time, Bobby and Katie’s bodies were placed in zippered bags, carried through the snowy November woods, and loaded into the ambulance. From there, they would be delivered to the hospital morgue, where he would lie in the cold darkness of its mortuary refrigerator. Their souls had been set free, but at the cost of their young lives. Albeit, by a dark force. But the pain left for others to bear offered no mercy or sentimentality, only to leave its deep emotional wounds that would never heal.