Dead Souls - Episode Two

In the dim glow of the television, Red dozed in the recliner beside six empty cans of beer on the end table. He had fallen asleep a few hours earlier during a commercial break while watching Hunter. When the knock at the door woke his dog, Red stirred from sleep and found a bunch of coloreds on the television dancing and singing like they were having the goddamn time of their lives. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was Showtime at the Apollo. Guess they’ll put anything on the tube at this hour.

The second time there was a knock, he noticed Daisy was whining at the door. Red turned off the television and groaned as he got up from the recliner. He had no idea what kind of idiot would be knocking on his door at this hour, but Red was going to make damn sure they went away. He opened the hall closet in the entryway and retrieved his shotgun and a handful of slugs. After he loaded the ammo, he kicked the dog out of his way and leaned against the door.

“Hello?” the man outside called. “Anyone home?”

Red didn’t like the sound of his voice. He sounded like a regular asshole. Red had his hand on the handle but the creaking staircase behind him caught his attention before he started to open the door. His head whipped around to find Lola creeping down the stairs. She froze when his eyes locked on her and for a moment he wondered if she was actually sneaking down the stairs, or trying to sneak back up. If this guy banging on the door was here because of her, he was going let her have it as soon as he got rid of him. Red scowled at her and jabbed a finger toward the top of the stairs and Lola pivoted and raced up to her bedroom. The door slammed shut. Little brat.

The loser on the other side of the door started knocking again. Red twisted the handle and opened the door enough to slide the barrels of the shotgun out. When the guy noticed the barrels a few inches in front of his face he threw his hands up and took a step back.

“Shit,” the guy said. “Easy man.”

“Why the hell are you banging on my goddamn door in the middle of the night?” Red demanded.

“I’m sorry,” the guy said. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. My car broke down. I just need to use your phone.”

“Go to hell,” Red said.

“Please,” the guy begged.

Red was about to slam the door in his face when the gold crucifix hanging around the man’s neck caught his eye. Even if he hadn’t been to church in a long time, Red still considered himself a religious man and he believed that the good lord sent angels down to walk amongst us and test us from time to time. Maybe it was more of a superstition than faith, but there was no sense in taking any chances.

“What’s your name?” Red sneered.

“Lowell,” the man shivered from the cold rain.

Red scrutinized him for a long moment. He sure didn’t look like no angel.

“I just need to use the phone,” he repeated.

Red considered the stranger on his porch a few seconds longer. Of course the good lord wouldn’t send an angel that actually looked like an angel. Wouldn’t be much of a test then, he reasoned.

“One call,” Red said as he lowered the shotgun and stepped back from the door to let Lowell inside. Daisy circled around Lowell and sniffed at his soaking wet jeans with particular interest. Red watched as the stranger crouched down to pet his Dalmatian. At first, Daisy flinched at his touch, but after a moment she stuck out her tongue and licked his hand. Red never really like the dog himself. His wife, Marcy, she was the one who wanted it. Once she passed from the cancer, he was stuck with the dang thing.

“See,” the man said to the dog. “I’m not so bad.”

Red cleared his throat.

“Phone is in the kitchen,” he told Lowell and gestured with the shotgun to urge him to move. Red followed him down the hall toward the kitchen with the gun still in his hands. He wasn’t holding the man at gunpoint, but he sure wasn’t going to be caught off guard either. Red pointed at the phone mounted on the wall next to the back door and watched as Lowell picked up the receiver and dialed a number.

A creak on the floorboards upstairs told him Lola was still sneaking around up there. Red groaned and looked up at the cracked and yellowed surface of the drywall over his head. The little tramp just never knew when to quit. Pain in the ass.

“Hey, it’s Lowell.”

Red returned his gaze to the man on the phone.

“We got a problem,” Lowell said. “Go get Lou.”

A pause.

“I don’t care what he is doing,” Lowell said. “My car broke down and there’s an issue with the... package.”

The noises of his daughter on the stairs made Red turn his back on the man to look down the hall. He spotted her as she peeked over the bannister.

“I told you to go to bed,” Red growled.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“None of your goddamn business. Now get your ass upstairs.”

The little brat gave him the finger.

Red shook his head as he turned back around and noticed the man with the phone to his ear was watching the exchange. He gave Lowell a hard stare until he averted his gaze. Being a father, Red was ever aware of the looks that men were giving his teenage daughter. He particularly didn’t want this stranger who showed up in the middle of the night getting an eyeful.

“Lou,” Lowell said. “We got a problem.”

A pause. Someone on the other end of the phone started complaining and cursing.

“No,” Lowell said. “Listen damn it, it’s not just that.” He looked over to find Red was still watching him and seemed to take a moment to weigh his words before speaking. He casually cupped a hand over the receiver to partially cover his mouth. “The thing you gave me wasn’t finished. You hear me? I had to handle it myself.”

Another pause followed by some more cursing and shouting.

“No,” Lowell shook his head. “That was not part of the deal. You send somebody down here now. I’m not taking the heat for this. No fucking way.”

Red was trying to glean what information he could from the conversation, but he could only figure that there was something more to it than just a broken down car. Lowell looked anxious even after he hung up the phone.

“Thanks,” he said to Red.

“Guess you best get going,” Red told him as he stepped aside to let Lowell pass through the hall.

“Sorry if I woke you and your daughter,” Lowell added as Red followed him to the front door.

Daisy ran in between Lowell and the front door and wagged her tail as she looked up at the man. Red felt a tinge of anger at the Dalmatian. Dogs were supposed to be loyal. His was just an asshole.

Lowell bent down and stroked the dog on the head once more.

“You guys see or hear anything strange tonight?” Lowell asked. He looked up at Red and up the stairs and Red realized the man was eyeing his daughter who refused to keep her little ass in the bedroom.

“Strange?” Red asked him. The only thing out of the ordinary was the asshole banging on his door in the middle of the night. “What do you mean?”

“Anything out of the ordinary on the news or anything?”

Red looked back at his daughter who shrugged at the question. The conversation concerned him and made him curious all at once.

“Never mind,” Lowell said. “I’m sorry again for disturbing you, both.”

He got up to leave and opened the door. The sound of the pouring rain flooded the house. Red watched as Lowell turned to step down the porch and froze in his tracks.

“What is it?” Red asked him.

As Lowell retreated inside and whirled around to slam the door shut, Red thought he saw a figure approaching the house through the rain.

“Who is out there?” Red demanded.

Lowell ignored his question and kept his body pressed against the door. Red tightened his grip on the rifle as he felt his patience wearing thin.

“Well?” Red snapped again.

Lowell raised a finger to his lips to urge Red to keep quiet. This guy had some nerve, Red thought, telling him to shut up in his own home. He didn’t realize he had started to do it, but he lifted the barrels of the shotgun once again so they were pointed in the direction of the man blocking his front door. If this guy was trying to pull something, Red would not hesitate to pump him full of lead.

The old wooden boards on the front porch creaked under the weight of the person outside. Then there was a thump on the door. It didn’t sound like a knock, more like the imbecile outside just walked right into the door. Probably drunk off their ass or high on the weed. Red watched as the handle begin to twist. Lowell flipped the deadbolt and stepped back from the door. Daisy sniffed at the air and started to whine like she was worried about whatever she was smelling. That dog was such a worthless chickenshit.

“Give me the gun,” Lowell whispered urgently.

“Like hell,” said Red. He took a step back to keep a safe distance from Lowell. He shifted the shotgun so the barrel pointed at the stranger once again.

“Listen,” Lowell persisted.

“No,” Red cut him off. “You listen. You’re in my goddamn house. You got that? I ain’t fooling around. I could shoot you dead right now and nobody would think nothing about it.”

There was another thud on the front door. Daisy snarled and barked at the sound.

“Shut the hell up!” Red yelled at the dog. The sound of his booming voice made her scurry out of the hall with her tail between her legs.

“Okay,” Lowell said. He raised his hands halfway up as if in surrender. “Just chill out, man.”

“Now I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, but I want you and your friend out there off of my goddamn property. You hear?”

“You don’t understand,” Lowell pleaded. “Something is going on. People are acting... strange.”

“No shit,” Red said.

“Red.”

He twisted his head around to the sound of his daughter and spotted her parked on the sofa in the front room, peering outside through the drapes. Red must have been so worked up he failed to notice her creeping down the stairs again. Sneaky little tramp.

“What is it now damn it?” Red snapped.

“That looks like Emma Watson outside.”

“What?” Red said. Emma Watson was seventy years old. She wouldn’t even be awake now, let alone wandering around in the middle of the damn night. Not unless something was seriously wrong.

“It looks like she is hurt,” Lola added.

“Open the door,” Red growled at Lowell.

“No,” Lowell warned him. “I’m telling you.”

“Shut up,” Red spit. He leveled the shotgun at Lowell’s chest and cocked the hammer to show him he meant business. “Open the goddamn door.”

Lowell held his ground for a moment before he turned around and gripped the handle. His other hand held the deadbolt, but he paused to listen to the creaking noise outside.

“Hurry it up,” Red commanded.

Lowell let out a breath and opened the door in a swift motion to find the porch was empty. Lowell poked his head out to look to his right as Emma lunged at him from the left. Her hands latched onto his jean jacket as he stumbled back into the house. The two of them tumbled to the floor in a heap and the old woman climbed on top of Lowell and snapped her dentures at his face until he shoved her off of him.

“Emma,” Red gasped. She didn’t seem to even notice him standing there as she clawed at Lowell again. Maybe she couldn’t hear him over hysterical barking coming from the front room where Lola held Daisy by her collar.

“Shoot her!” Lowell pleaded.

Red noticed the wet nightgown that clung to her feeble frame was drenched and stained with blood. She had gaping wounds on her neck and arms. Red figured the way she was attacking Lowell meant he must have had something to do with it.

“Emma,” Red repeated.

Red was frozen. Shock and confusion paralyzed him so he didn’t even fight when Lowell ripped the shotgun out of his hands. All he could do was look on as Lowell pulled the trigger and then splattered Emma Watson’s brains all over the front door. Her body collapsed and trickled blood onto the wooden floorboards. Red stared down at her body unable to move.

Lowell stepped over her body and walked through the front door. He stepped down off the front porch and scanned the yard. A moment later her turned around and returned to the house and slammed the front door.

“We need to shut off these lights,” he said. “There’s more of them coming.”