The two shook hands and Nate stepped back into the cold.
He walked down a neighbor’s driveway, hopping over a low fence. Unlike the last time, Nate knew better than to walk up to the front door and start knocking. A move like that was an invitation for those inside to start shooting. Without a proper SWAT team, he’d get himself killed. Then he and Jay would both be dead, and the raspy-voiced woman and her rail-thin boyfriend would get away with whatever they had done. No, instead he opted to cut through the adjacent yards, making his way to the back of Jay’s house.
Arriving at the fence line, Nate stopped to scout around. The kitchen window overlooked the backyard. He spotted the flicker from a single candle inside the house. They appeared to be home, but that was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like they’d be out for dinner and a movie. What it suggested was what part of the house they were in.
Rolling over the top of the fence, Nate landed in powder and crossed the open yard. He remembered coming over for a barbeque last summer and Jay pointing at the back of the house and outlining all the new renovations he was planning. The visual sharpened in Nate’s mind, along with the basement window close to where he was standing. He pushed his hand under the snow and ran it along the wall until he felt where the concrete gave way to glass. The next few minutes were spent clearing access to the window.
Suddenly a noise to his left made him turn, pistol drawn.
Shadow licked the barrel, staring up at him with shimmering green eyes.
“Hey, buddy, you nearly got yourself killed.”
Shadow stared back, the animal’s head bobbing as Nate spoke. If he didn’t know any better, he could swear the animal was processing his words, maybe even attempting to figure out what he was saying.
“You speak English, don’t you? Well, I hope you do because this isn’t your fight, my friend, although I appreciate the offer of help. Now you better go.”
The wolf turned to leave.
“And for heaven’s sake, stay out of the road, will you?”
This time Shadow didn’t look back. Nate watched the majestic creature round the corner, hoping he wouldn’t follow them any further. He belonged out in the wild with other wolves. Not with people and certainly not in a city like Marengo and least of all in Chicago.
Shortly, Nate returned to the task at hand, dropping to one knee and jamming an elbow into the basement window. It let out a muffled crack as the glass broke and fell to the floor. Carefully, Nate reached in and undid the latch. From there, he lifted it open and slid inside.
Prodding the ground with one boot, Nate came in on top of a washing machine, fallen glass crunching under his weight. He drew his pistol and activated the tactical light attached at the bottom, sweeping the room before him. The space was small, less than five feet in either direction. Along one wall was a washer-dryer as well as a shelf with detergent and cleaning supplies. Nate climbed off the machine and pushed through to the door into what looked like a screening room still under construction. This latest addition didn’t surprise Nate one bit. Jay sure did love him some movies. Nate stopped and listened for anyone else. The house was quiet. On the plus side, at least that meant no one had heard him break in.
A long hallway led from the movie room, curving to the left. Nate followed it, trying to remember where the door was that led upstairs. Entering in such an unusual way had left him a little disoriented. Stalking purposely down the hallway, his weapon covering the space before him, Nate caught the unmistakable odor of decomposition.
He swore under his breath, emotions of sadness and anger building up within him simultaneously. The prospect of placing the people he’d met yesterday under arrest now seemed so remote, so unnecessary. If they had killed his friend and left him down here to rot while they carried on in his house as if it was theirs, there was only one remedy for that sort of crime. Nate tightened the grip on his SIG as he came to a fork in the path. To his left was a door, to his right the staircase leading to the main floor.
He was about to head upstairs when he heard the sound of someone coughing in the other room. He paused and listened. When it came again, he was suddenly sure it was coming from the room behind him. Turning the handle, Nate flung open the door and froze, for a split second unable to process what he was seeing. Multiple sets of eyes were staring back at him from gaunt and pale faces. Then came that same odor again, a sudden and violent assault on his olfactory senses. His hand shot up to cover his nose.
The room was filled with a dozen people, all of them sitting on a cold concrete floor. The same number of chains had been looped through metal rings in the exposed ceiling beams, stretching down to each of those imprisoned here.
“What the hell is going on here?” he whispered in horror, more to himself than to the frightened figures huddled before him.
Swinging his light around, Nate saw that two of the twelve were dead, their decomposition slowed only slightly by the cold. Still, the sight was enough to make him gag.
“Help us,” a weak voice called out.
The chains from the ceiling had been wrapped around their waist below the ribcage and secured with padlocks. It also appeared they’d been cinched to prevent escape as they had lost weight.
“Who did this to you?”
A young, but haggard-looking woman stuck a finger in the air, pointing to the sound of feet now clomping around upstairs.
Breathing hard, Nate flicked his light up to the ceiling. He wasn’t going to be able to unlock these chains without finding the keys or cutting them down. Either way, that meant first going upstairs and taking out the psychos who’d kidnapped these poor souls.
“Nate?” The voice was weak, groggy, but he recognized it all the same.
“Jay?” Nate swung the light around. “The heck happened here, man?”
His friend’s normally round, jovial cheeks now hung sallow about his face like dirty sheets spilling over an unmade bed. “Those people, they’re insane,” Jay told him, drawing on all the energy he could muster. “You gotta get us outta here.”
Nate’s G36 assault rifle was too long and bulky to be used inside the house. He opted to continue with the SIG, holding it before him as he left what felt like a medieval prison and headed for the stairway leading to the main floor.
He reached the top riser and listened. There was only silence coming from the other side of the door. Gripping the handle, he turned and entered the kitchen. On a cluttered counter, a propane camping stove warmed a skillet filled with chunks of raw meat. Some of the meat still had tufts of fur. A sliding glass door off the kitchen looked out onto a wooden deck, currently covered in snow. Except lying on the snow was the carcass of a deer. Large sections of its body had been crudely carved up. These people were worse than Neanderthals. Butchering an animal like this would bring shame to anyone calling themselves a hunter. The animal should have been gutted and cleaned and hung upside down to let the blood drain. Although considering what they were hiding in the basement, this was clearly the least of their problems.
He spun on his heels and headed for the living room. The place looked trashed, as though someone had mistakenly left a door open and a family of raccoons had taken up residence. They’d clearly gone through Jay’s carefully organized and substantial pantry, tossing aside wrappers and packaging at will. Strangely, what hit him hardest seeing the house in such a state of disarray was knowing what a clean freak Jay was. His friend’s house looked and smelled like a slum. And Nate wasn’t sure whether in Jay’s weakened state, he should be allowed to see what it had become.