The Last Customer Read Free Page A

out of the bedroom and into the hallway. He didn’t say goodbye. The longing between these two women—to bond and love one another—was too strong. Gardner refused to interfere. His leaving went unnoticed.
     
    4
     
    Walking down the stairs from the second floor, Gardner glanced to the neatly framed family photos that hung, staggered, across the walls. The captured images were sweet. There weren’t many pictures of Donna and her parents, but there were many of her and Silvia. It was easy to see that Silvia loved her granddaughter like a mother.
                Gardner left the Shaney’s home. The soft hum of the summer afternoon felt right. From here, Gardner would drive until he found a nice café to stop at. He enjoyed small diners. He could relax with a nice cup of coffee. Small town greasy spoons were a treat.
    The screen door creaked as Gardner pulled the latch and swung it open. Stepping down the cement staircase, he looked back to the second story of the brick house. He heard Donna crying...thanking God. He smiled. His joy came from their happiness.
    Gardner continued down the stairs toward the base of the sidewalk. A shadow spilled over him. He glanced at the sky, seeing a dark cloud creep over the house.
    In that moment, Gardner felt the damning power of Sammael. His presence hovered above and he was angry. Demons became furious after being expelled.
    The Demon had been defeated, but not destroyed.
    Sammael would find Gardner again.
    Their battle was far from finished.
    Gardner could feel it.
     
     
     
    Part 2: The Vessels
     
     
     
    Chapter 2
     
    1
     
    The sky was clear on that sunny summer day in August 2010. Not a cloud hung in the sky to interrupt the canvas above that was a picture perfect blue. A humid gust of wind blew through Dodge Junction, a small town of eight thousand in the southern region of rural Wisconsin. The humidity hung thick in the air, making the day hazy. The temperature was ninety and rising. With the added humidity it was scorching, almost unbearable.
                Downtown Dodge Junction was deserted. The line of old stores, diners, repair shops, banks and gas stations were dried up and desolate. Even the industrial area north of town seemed to be lifeless. The generator factory—where the town’s livelihood stemmed from—was shut down for the weekend. The remaining townsfolk had retreated to their air conditioned homes, or at least, fanned living rooms. Sprinklers danced across many of the freshly mowed yards creating a scenic glaze across the suburban neighborhoods. Fresh green lawns popped nicely against mild colored houses. Even the paint laminating the white picket fences seemed to sweat on this particular day. The wetness made everything appear glossy.
    It was peaceful.
    It was Saturday.
    In a town forty miles north of Dodge Junction, the heat held something perverted, dreadful, retched, and nearly unspeakable—
     
    2
     
    Rod Barton and Patty King baked in the summer heat of a posh Midwestern living room. The couch where they sat was comfortable. The covers were made of satin and were stained with sweat. Patty and Rod had access to air conditioning, but didn’t bother. They’d been camped out in this nicely polished Victorian home for three days, not letting the rising temperature affect their plans. The two deviants were invested in heinous acts they sought pleasure in committing. They were experiencing too much pleasure to worry about a thing like heat .
    Patty watched Rod’s eager eyes peer down, intensely, at the glass pipe. The small bulb on the end was smudged with a thin layer of blackened burn marks. The black ash spread as he ran a cheap lighter underneath the round ball at the end of the straw-like tube. He slowly turned the tube between his index finger and thumb. The crystal methamphetamine was melting and creating a ribbon of smoke that tumbled like a miniature tornado within the small glass circle with a tiny hole in the top.
    Patty