The smell had become unbearable. It had become like a thick, oozing liquid. Shannon had an image of it filling up his lungs. He felt like he was drowning in it, and like a drowning man he started to panic. In a mad rush he felt himself moving away from the smell… Winters’s image dimmed. His voice started to fade… The smell.. .
Shannon woke up. His heart pounding, his skin clammy wet, the sheets around him damp. For a brief moment he thought he detected that smell. He jerked himself upright, inhaling deeply as he concentrated. He forced a stillness within him as he desperately tried to find if that smell was anywhere around. But it was as elusive as his peace of mind, and similarly, just as distant.
Shannon exhaled and looked over at Susie. He touched her gently along the cheek to make sure she was still alive and then let his fingers gingerly trace the outline of her small body. She murmured softly in her sleep.
The last thing he wanted to do was wake her. If she found out about his dream she’d leave him for good. He had no doubt about that. Because he wasn’t supposed to have another breakdown, at least not ’til next year.
Lying among dirty sheets ten miles away in an eight-dollar-a-day rooming house was the flesh and blood embodiment of Shannon’s nightmare. On cue, his eyes opened and his lips formed into a crooked smile, framing an almost nonexistent malformed chin.
He was pleased with how things turned out. More than pleased, really. He had guessed right about the blackouts, and more importantly, how that little piece of shit didn’t have a clue what he did during them. It was the reason why he could never visit the little pissant during those times. You can’t visit someone who’s not there.
He started laughing. A thin, wheezing sound. It oozed out of him like a noxious gas filling the room. “Just wait, Billy Boy,” he breathed softly in a wispy, singsong voice, “you might think your nightmare just ended but it hasn’t even begun. And when it happens it’s going to be a real eye-popper. You can bet on it.”
It took a long while before he stopped laughing. Before he closed his eyes again.
Of course, the man wasn’t Herbert Winters. Winters was long dead, his corpse cremated twenty years earlier. But while the man may not have been Herbert Winters, he knew what had happened in that house that day. He knew because Herbert Winters wasn’t alone.
Chapter 19
Charlie Winters knew early on he had a special bond with his cousin, Herbert. They were born within a month of each other and physically they looked more like brothers than cousins; both around the same size and skin coloring, both damned with the same pale, almost albino eyes, both inheriting the same deformed chin from their fathers. Charlie knew they had far more than their physical similarities in common. Even as young as age six, Charlie knew they shared a uniquely perverse outlook on life. At that age it wouldn’t have been something he’d have been able to put in words, but it was still something he knew. That deep in the core of their hearts they were the same.
Over the years they became inseparable as they fleshed out the basic truths that were driving them. Of course, their lessons were learned in secret, first with small animals and then later progressing to neighborhood dogs and cats. They were quiet about it and careful, and it wasn’t until the Chilton girl disappeared that they found out they hadn’t been nearly quiet and careful enough. It was then that they realized there had been a growing groundswell of suspicion towards them and the Chilton girl brought it all out into the open-the dirty, hateful glances, the inquiries, and outright accusations. They were all baseless, of course. There wasn’t a shred of evidence linking them to the girl’s disappearance or her mutilated body when it was finally discovered, so they feigned innocence and the townsfolk ended up having to accept it; even the County Sheriff who would’ve beaten the truth out of them if their parents hadn’t been able to afford the best lawyers in North Carolina.
It was an eye-opening experience for them, though, and the lesson they learned from it was invaluable. No matter how careful they thought they were, it wasn’t careful enough. And just as important, they’d better not stay in any one spot for too long. After all, a skunk can only hide its stripe for so long. Eventually, you end up smelling it out.
In any case, a drifter from Texas murdered a young girl outside of Durham six months later and over time it became accepted that this same drifter must’ve also done in poor Marjorie Chilton. Not right away, because it’s hard to dispute the obvious, especially when it’s staring you straight in the face everyday with pale albino eyes, but over time. Eventually, their own parents stopped giving them those funny looks when their backs were sort of turned. Eventually.
So Charlie and Herbert bided their time. It killed them inside, but they knew they had no choice. That as much as they had thought otherwise, they had fooled no one. So they waited and made plans and studied, all the while fighting against the desires that were burning fervently within them.
When they were eighteen they left Mornsville together. They bought a Chevy Nova (they learned their lesson about being careful, and just as important, being inconspicuous). And they went off into the world to fulfill their dreams and aspirations.
They stuck mostly to large cities where people of their kind could blend in without being noticed. Herbert had a knack for finding elderly shut-ins or recluses where they could steal license plates without it being noticed. Whenever they traveled to a new area, that would be the first thing they’d do.
They were on the road for two years crisscrossing the country before they ended up in Sacramento. It was in a local supermarket that Herbert caught a glimpse of Mrs. Shannon. That was all that was needed. Just a glimpse of her. Just something as random as that. They followed her back to her house and gained entrance as she struggled with her groceries and the door, and then kept her alive for an hour as they did things to her.
Near the end Charlie went upstairs and took a nap. They had spent most of the night driving from Los Angeles and he was tired and wasn’t much into it. This one was basically Herbert’s. As he napped, he heard the woman’s muffled screams and a peaceful contentment warmed him over.
When he woke he was surprised to see that over three hours had passed. Herbie should’ve been finished long before then. He should’ve woken him and they should’ve been traveling fast out of Sacramento. Annoyed, he crept downstairs to the kitchen and found Herbie sitting down, the side of his face swollen and smeared with blood, his shirt collar soaked in it. There was a body in a crumpled heap on the floor next to him. The woman was in the same spot as when Charlie had left earlier, lying flat on her back on the kitchen table. Now, though, she was staring blankly up at the ceiling with an eight-inch carving knife sticking out of her open mouth. The padded handcuffs they had used on her had been taken off and were on the floor. As Charlie moved closer he noticed the body on the floor was that of a small teenage boy.
Herbie gave his cousin a hard smirk. “Like my handiwork?” he asked. “I thought I’d give her something nice and hard and long to suck on.”
“What happened to you?”
Herbie ran a hand across his cheek and stared enigmatically at his bloodied hand. “This little piece of shit snuck up on me.” He pushed the boy’s body with his boot and then paused and offered his cousin a crooked smile. “Even gods bleed, Cuz. Believe it or not.” He turned his gaze from his hand back to the body on the floor and gave the kid a kick in the ribs. The boy moaned with the blow.