Chapter 5 #3
“Who is and isn’t at home? Where other zombies and witches and goblins might be human beings slashed up to die slowly?” Valiente asked.
“Exactly,” she said softly. “So—”
“I’m heading back and I’ll answer the first ring. Rangers and our K-9 people aren’t too far from here, but this is a maze, so . . .”
“We understand,” Jackson told him. “We’ll keep at it.”
Angela looked at him. “This time, I think I’ll just say . . . back into the woods!”
They parted ways, the EMTS struggling through the trees with their stretchers, Valiente hurrying ahead.
To get to the next house.
When they stood alone with the others hurrying off, Angela looked at Jackson and said, “There, I think.” She pointed to a break in the trees where one of the creatures—knocked down when the EMTs had gone to start administering to the human goblin—had blocked the path.
He nodded.
“I think you’re right.”
He headed in that direction. As he did so, his phone rang.
Bruce McFadden.
“I think our fellow has another young victim,” Bruce told him.
“Third house we got to—a few decorations, but nothing major, no human monsters, but the parents had just phoned in a missing person’s report.
Their daughter didn’t come home after having dinner with a few friends near the coffee shop.
Her name is Bridget McCreary, just turned eighteen, shoulder-length dark blond hair, about five-five, slim, attractive.
Manderley might have taken an older woman, too, but she’s . . .”
“The type he likes to torture?” Jackson asked.
“From what we’ve seen of the man, yes,” Bruce said. “Thought you should know. There are, of course, others he might have taken, but . . . how the hell does one man manage all this?”
He quickly explained about their recent discovery, but Manderley didn’t do it all on his own.
He used people. He terrified and drugged them into submission. Some just to torture or kill. Some to terrify, or to twist into being his helpers.
“Somehow, he can convince others that he is some kind of supreme being, the supreme being of evil,” Jackson said.
“And that’s not far from the truth,” Bruce told him.
“Not at all,” Jackson agreed. “Okay, keep at it—”
“We are. There are eight of us out here, split into four, getting to both sides of the road, it’s just that it’s a massive area—”
“And we have cops and rangers, too. We just keep going. We will get him.”
“And morning will come!” Bruce said. “All right; moving!”
They ended the call.
Angela was inspecting the trail.
“Definitely through here,” she murmured. “Look at the ground. He dragged someone through here, I believe.”
“Even with his ability to twist people, the speed with which he accomplished all this is amazing,” Jackson said.
“And terrifying,” Angela agreed, wincing as she stepped on a twig and it snapped—loudly.
“It makes me wonder,” he said.
“What?”
“He was in max security. He still managed to pretend he’d been shivved, get into an infirmary—bribe a guard, kill and get out. How do we keep a monster like that?” he asked.
“We aren’t judge and jury; we’re law enforcement,” she reminded him.
“Right. I do remember. Honestly. And I suppose, when we do have him again, others will realize all that happened and they’ll be damned sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said. “Because we will get the bastard.”
“Of course. Because I’m the ‘witch’ he really wants to torture. I wonder . . .”
“I wonder if he really thinks there is any way he can get out of this—or if it doesn’t matter as long as he believes he’ll get his revenge.
The man’s ego is as big as the earth; he thinks he’ll prevail,” Jackson said.
“What better place to seek revenge than a forest this size? He believes he can disappear in here and find his way out and a place to go when he’s ready. ”
“Probably, but . . . more broken branches! We are going in the right direction,” Angela said.
“And Bruce is right.”
“About what?”
“Morning is coming. Another hour or so and it will be light.”
“Another hour or so, and I’m afraid our hostages will have bled to death! Jackson, we need to move fast!”
“Carefully fast,” he reminded her.
“Always, carefully. And fast!”
Morning might be on the way, but it was still dark. The good thing was that they had now discovered they could move by the light of the moon.
And since their last encounter had seemed like a warning they needed to be very careful about being seen when they approached one of Manderley’s scenarios, they had silently agreed to move through the darkness.
Which was good. And bad.
Because Angela suddenly stopped abruptly.
So abruptly Jackson did slam into her.
But she didn’t let out a sound.
She pointed.
He looked hard over her shoulder.
And there it was. Another scene. This one bigger, bolder . . .
More terrifying than that they had seen before.
Not that either of them was frightened by Halloween decorations, by manufactured zombies, ghosts, or goblins.
But because there were so many creatures . . .
And they had to wonder just which ones might really be human beings.
Human beings . . .
Dripping with blood.
Blood that just might be real.