Day One (Book 3): Alone Read Free

I cleared the master bedroom and moved back into the narrow hall. If there were any more of those things inside with me, then they had found the perfect hiding places, but I would find them eventually and offer them a hollow point exit out of this world and their pain.
    “Here I am assholes, come and get me!” I shouted. My voice carried through the house louder than the earlier rumble of thunder, yet none of them slithered out from the darkness. I tried once more. “C’mon! What are you waiting for?” Still nothing.
    From where I was standing I could see the pickup truck in the garage. It would be my ticket out of town, after I found the keys of course, but I had found my Ex’s keys, so how hard would finding these be?
    I had been in the house for at least a few hours and for the first time I detected a hint of something I hadn’t noticed before. I shifted in a few different directions trying to lock onto where the smell was coming from, which took me back into the master bedroom. There the smell grew and became pungent and powerful. In the past week it had become a smell I had grown accustomed to and that’s probably why I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now in the middle of the dark room with all of my sense heightened, I gathered that the arrant smell was coming from the opposite side of the bed.
    I’m not going to lie and say that the Ex and I got along perfectly. We had had our ups and downs through the years, although I can say with great certainty that I never wanted anything bad to happen to her. Our son needed a mother just as much as he needed a father in his life and the thought of finding her dead was not something I wanted to see, let alone think about. Sure, there were things she had done that pissed me off, especially when she tried to talk down to me as if I were a child, or went against a court order and kept him from me for a few weeks, but none of that mattered now. That was in the past and neither of us could change that – god I was getting sick of saying that over and over again.
    I strolled along the foot of the bed and my eyes came to a darkened heap on the floor just left of the bed. I could tell the lump was larger than she was, although bloating is a natural part of decomposition, so it could still be her. I hesitantly raised the barrel of the rifle, wasted a few seconds wondering if I really needed to see what was on the floor, and then turned the flashlight on. A slight sigh exited my mouth as the light held steady on a male victim. It wasn’t her.
    I took a quick glance toward the door, saw nothing waiting for me, and quickly knelt holding my breath. With my free hand I located the nearest pocket and shoved into it only to find a few crisp dollars and some change, none of which would do me any good. He was lying on his right side, so in order to check the remaining pocket I would have to roll him onto his back. The fear of disturbing any areas that had putrefied and would burst open immediately, spewing the foulest smell known to man directly up to my face wasn’t something I was looking forward to.
    The hesitation of the ordeal seemed worse than the actual act, or so I hoped.
    I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled. His body rolled onto its back granting me access to the second pocket and I quickly held my breath and dove in, found what I was looking for and rose to my feet. There standing just outside the doorway was a silent figure. I couldn’t tell whether it was facing me or looking away. I froze as neither hand was holding my rifle. The sling was and if I made any sudden movement and the silent figure was looking at me, it would charge forward.
    The distance from the left side of the bed to the door was fifteen feet at most, which meant a well-aimed shot was out of the question. I would simply have to swing the barrel in its general direction and start shooting, hoping for the best. If I missed it would take me to the floor, yet even if I was able to hit it with several