“Dad—”
Removing his hand from his son’s shoulders, Jerry raised one finger to his lips. Randy fell silent. The tapping on the glass resumed, frantic and angry.
With it came a dry, rustling sound. Randy held his breath. Jerry grasped the curtain and pulled it aside.
A large black crow stood on the other side of the glass, tapping at the doors with its beak. It stopped, tilted its head up and stared at them. Both Randy and his father exhaled at the same time. Then Jerry laughed.
“What is it?” Sam called. “What’s out there?”
Jerry turned around to face them. “It’s just a bird. That’s all. Just an ugly old crow. Big sucker, too.”
The others murmured among themselves, and Randy, whose attention was still focused on the bird, heard the relief in their voices. He tried to speak, tried to get their attention, but suddenly he had no breath. The bird was changing. As he watched, it turned shadowy, blurred. And then it changed.
A tall man, dressed all in black, stood on the patio where only a second before there had been a crow. He grinned at Randy, revealing rows of white teeth. Too many teeth. Randy didn’t think human beings were supposed to have that many in their mouths.
The man in black raised a fist. Randy whined softly. “Dad…”
Still grinning, his father started to turn toward him. The stranger’s fist smashed through the glass doors, and he grasped Jerry Cummings by the ear.
“Come here.” The man’s voice reminded Randy of fingernails on a chalkboard.
Jerry had time to utter a startled yelp, and then his attacker yanked him forward, pulling his head through the shattered hole. Glass fragments fell to the kitchen floor. The gun slipped from Jerry’s hand and spun like a top on the linoleum. Randy screamed, dimly aware that his mother, Sam and Stephanie were doing the same behind him.
Laughing, the man on the patio jerked Jerry’s head down. Long, jagged shards of glass slashed his face and throat. Blood spurted, running down the doors on both sides. Jerry wailed and thrashed, arms flailing, legs kicking wildly as the stranger pushed his head even lower. Another shard speared his eye, and Randy heard a small pop, like air rushing from a sealed plastic bag. His father’s cries ceased. Jerry jittered once more and then lay still. His body went limp and the glass slipped even farther into his eye socket.
Randy gaped, crying as the killer grasped his father’s hair with both hands and tugged him through the opening. The remaining glass shattered as Jerry’s corpse was pulled through. Randy flinched as the stranger lifted his father’s head and kissed him on the mouth. The murderer’s cheeks seemed to balloon for a moment, as if he’d swallowed a mouthful of something. Then he casually tossed Jerry’s lifeless form aside and stepped through the hole.
“Didn’t you hear me knocking? I was gently tapping, tapping at your chamber door.”
Randy scrambled backward, tripped and fell. He sprawled across the kitchen floor and spotted his father’s gun. He reached for it, but the invader moved quicker, kicking it away. The weapon slid across the floor and slammed against the kitchen cabinets.
“It wouldn’t have done you any good,” the man said, looking down at him. The tip of the killer’s black hat brushed against the ceiling fan. “But if you don’t believe me, go ahead and try. I’ll wait.”
Randy skittered backward, sobbing. The man followed along, clearly enjoying the sport. His laughter echoed through the kitchen.
“What do you want?” Randy shrieked.
“Your soul. They taste better if you’re scared.”
The man leaned over him and Randy closed his eyes.
“Youuuu get away from my son!”
Footsteps pounded across the floor. Randy’s eyes snapped open in time to see his mother leaping over him, flinging herself at her husband’s killer. She beat the intruder with her fists, but the man in black swatted her aside. She crashed into the refrigerator and then stumbled to her feet. Groaning, Cindy grabbed the salt and pepper shakers from the countertop and flung them. Both bounced off the figure’s shoulders and smashed on the floor, spilling their contents all over the linoleum. A thrown coffee mug suffered the same fate. Then Cindy seized a steak knife from the dish drainer.
“Get away from us,” she screamed. “Jerry! What did you do to my Jerry?”
“Mom.”
“Randy,” Sam shouted. “Come on!”
Randy clambered to his hands and knees and crawled toward the handgun. Grains of salt from the spilled dispenser stuck to his palms. The intruder’s attention was focused on his mother. The killer taunted her, leaning in close and then darting out of the way as she repeatedly slashed at him with the steak knife. They repeated this dance again, the killer giggling as Cindy shrieked.
“Run, Randy.” Her eyes didn’t leave her tormentor. “Get out of here.”
“Leave her alone,” Randy shouted as his fingers curled around the pistol. He jumped to his feet and pointed the weapon at the man in black, holding the .45 with both hands and spacing his feet apart at shoulder width, just as his father had taught him. “I mean it, you son of a bitch. Get the fuck away from her.”
The dark figure didn’t even turn around. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.”
“I’ll do it,” Randy warned. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as terrified as he felt.
“Then do it already, boy, and be done with it. My brothers and I have many more to deal with tonight. You make such small morsels.”
“Randy,” Cindy said, “go find your sister. Make sure she’s safe. Get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you, Mom. That fucker killed Dad.”
“Sam,” she cried. “Stephanie. Get him out of here.” “Come on, Randy,” Sam urged again. “Let’s go get help.”
“I’m not leaving my mother here, so fuck off!”
The man in black turned around to face him. His smile was terrible to behold.
“I’m going to turn your mother inside out now. Would you like to watch?”
Cindy lunged forward and drove the steak knife into his back with both hands. At the same time, Randy pulled the trigger. The .45 jerked in his hands, and he felt the reverberation run all the way up his arms. The blast drowned out all other sound, and Randy’s ears rang in the aftermath.
Grunting, Cindy stumbled backward and slipped again to the floor. Randy noticed that there was blood spattered across the white refrigerator door. It hadn’t been there a moment before. He wondered where it had come from. Then he saw more of it on the front of his mother’s sweatshirt.
“Oh my God.”
The killer, his expression impassive, calmly reached for the knife jutting from his back. He pulled it out and dropped it to the floor. Then he smiled again.
“But I shot you.” Randy tossed the gun away in frustration. “I shot you, not my mom.”
“Indeed. The bullet passed through me and into her. And for that, I thank you, boy. You helped expedite things for me. As a reward, I shall make your death quick and painless. Just give me one moment.”
He turned back to Randy’s mother and knelt beside her. Cindy struggled to sit up, but slumped back down again.
“M-Mom… I’m sorry.”
Her eyes flicked toward him. Randy noticed a thin line of blood dribbling from one corner of her mouth.
“Marsha,” she wheezed. “Go find your sister. It’s okay, baby. I love you.”
“Mom…”
“Dude.” Sam had opened the front door. A gust of wind blew into the house, and the screams of the neighbors grew louder. “Come on, man, before he kills you, too.”
Randy glanced at Sam and Stephanie, then back to his mother and the stranger, and then down to the discarded gun.