Брайан Макклеллан - Uncanny Collateral

I hocked up a wad of phlegm, spat in the dirt, and rubbed my eyes. “How the hell do you guys breathe in there?”

“We wear masks when we’re cooking,” Red Sweater replied.

“And the rest of the time?”

He shrugged.

I looked down at the little cattle dog and chewed on the inside of my cheek. It stared up at me expectantly, clearly disappointed I had taken its breakfast. It inched forward and licked the tips of my fingers.

We don’t have time for this, Maggie warned.

I took the extension cord out of Red Sweater’s hand. “I’m confiscating your dog.”

“Hey!”

“Don’t keep pets in a meth house,” I called over my shoulder as I left.

I went out of my way to drop the dog at a nearby shelter whose owner owed me a favor, then headed to the next address on Zeke’s list. It was much the same as the first: occupied by a handful of imps who cooked meth for Kappie. The imps protested that no one would accept work without Kappie’s allowance, but they all ate up my promise of a five-hundred-dollar bounty for this mysterious employer.

The third house followed suit, and the fourth and the fifth. It was getting late in the afternoon when I reached the sixth house, in a town called Berea. I pulled into the driveway, and Maggie immediately chimed in. Don’t bother. The house is empty.

Completely?

Completely, she confirmed. Kappie must have cleaned it out months ago.

I sighed. This isn’t working, is it?

Before Maggie could answer, my phone rang. It was an unidentified number. “Alek Fitz,” I answered.

A nasally voice said, “Are you the reaper guy?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” I thought I recognized the voice of Red Sweater from the Euclid house. “Do you have anything for me?”

“Maybe,” he answered. “My cousin’s friend is helping open up a cook house over in Painesville. He says some spooky dude offered them a side job, but he wouldn’t say what it was.”

“That’s not super specific,” I said.

“Hey, man, that’s all I’ve got. Do I get the five hundred bucks or what?”

I checked Zeke’s list. No houses in Painesville. “Text me the address,” I told him. “If it’s a good lead, you’ll get your money when I drag this sucker down.”

The address arrived on my phone within thirty seconds, and I was on my way to Painesville. It was dark by the time I pulled up in front of a little cottage on a two-acre lot that still had a realtor’s sign out front. Someone had spray-painted Black Mold on the realtor’s sign. There were three cars in the driveway, the lawn was unkempt, and I could see light coming from around the edges of blacked-out windows.

It didn’t take a lot of effort to bully my way inside and corral seven imps onto the two beat-up couches in the living room. I stood in the middle of the room, looking at the seven as if I were about to give a presentation. Not a single one gave me trouble beyond asking who I was, but they all fixed me with the same hollow-eyed look I had seen on the guy back in Euclid. Something was most definitely wrong here, though. “Five hundred bucks,” I said firmly, hoping to get a rise. “First one of you who sells out your boss gets it in cash.”

“Kappie’s our boss,” one answered.

“Your other boss,” I clarified.

One of the imps, a younger one with a hairlip, looked around at his friends before opening his mouth. “I–” His closest companion punched him in the shoulder, and he fell silent.

“You what?” I asked, walking over to stand above him.

We came to the right place, Maggie told me.

You sure?

They’re all scared shitless. They’re practically exhaling fear.

“Come on,” I said. “Five hundred bucks to the first one to speak.” I did a circuit around the room, then returned to Hairlip and nudged his shoe with my boot. “Five hundred not good enough? You guys need some group courage? How about two hundred each?”

Still no rise. I straightened, scowling at the assembled imps. It’s like they think he’s going to show up any second, I said to Maggie.

About that, Alek – you have company.

You’re shitting me. Where?

Outside, coming quick.

I drew my Glock and backed into the corner of the living room, one eye on the front door and the other on the window. The imps stared at me in confusion. Where is he? I asked Maggie.

I’m trying to figure that out! I can’t pin the bastard down; he’s –

Maggie was cut off by a deafening rumble. It felt like a concrete truck driving by at full speed, and I tried to pinpoint the source with no more luck than Maggie when I heard a snap, felt a breeze on my neck, and something snagged the back of my flak vest all in the course of a split second. The word shit wasn’t out of my mouth when I felt myself yanked through the wall of the house, crunching through the drywall, framing, and siding. I was suddenly tumbling through the air. I instinctively curled into a ball a moment before I bounced off a tree and went skidding across the muddy yard to land in a heap about twenty yards from the house.

Alek!

I’m awake! I responded, pulling myself gingerly to my knees. My lower back – where I’d hit the tree – felt like I’d been hit by a wrecking ball. The rest of me ached so badly that my fingers tingled. I remembered the house, then remembered my gun, then remembered that something very angry was on its way to eat me. I used every ounce of concentration to get to my feet. Gun? I asked Maggie.

Eight feet to your left. Yes, there.

A scream pierced the night as I recovered my weapon. It was followed by another, and the screams soon erupted into a chorus. I swung toward the house, watching in horror through the hole in the wall as something tore through those imps as easily as I would a box of pet-store bunnies. Why isn’t he coming after me? Why is he… shit, he’s killing my witnesses! I broke into a sprint, ignoring the pain in my side. I checked the Glock, not bothering to close more than half the distance before I pulled up, braced myself, and squeezed off two quick shots.

The screaming went silent, and the shadows inside the house went still. I approached slowly, gun raised. I didn’t kill it, did I?

I don’t think so… Maggie sounded uncertain.

I reached the corner of the house and eyeballed the spot where the creature had snatched me and pulled me through. He must have gone in the same way, because the hole was quite a bit larger than I was. Inside, the living room light had been shattered, and the room was illuminated by a knocked-over lamp and light coming in from the kitchen. Is it gone?

Maggie didn’t answer.

Carefully, I climbed up into the living room. I cleared it, then the kitchen and back bedroom before returning to the living room and taking in the carnage. It was the same as in Ashtabula – corpses lay like discarded rag dolls, some of them separated from limbs and heads. Bellies were torn open; throats were cut. The killing had no pattern beyond whatever was quick and convenient. Blood spatter covered the walls and ceilings, and blood still spurted from one headless body.

A sickly cough brought my gun back up. I spun toward the front door, where I was surprised to find Hairlip lying halfway behind the television, one leg skiwampus with the bone sticking out, using both hands to hold in his intestines. I swallowed my bile and knelt next to him, pulling out my phone and hitting record on the camera. “That thing,” I said. “That’s what you were afraid of?”

Hairlip’s eyes were closed. He let out a whimper.