I really love October for the glut of scary stories out there. It's really my favorite time to write something horror related. So I hope you enjoy this silly little cliche piece of gory horror. Please enjoy and I hope I can do a few more this month!
This Isn't Over
Reggie sat on the edge of the ambulance bumper. He was trying to hold still as he sipped his coffee but he was shaking too much. The coffee was too hot but he was too numb to notice as it spilled over his hand and dripped onto the gray blanket draped over his shoulders. The night was quiet but altogether too loud.
The ambulance and police car lights flickered on the surrounding houses. The strobe effect was making Reggie nervous. He tried to catch his breath and hold still. The whole night seemed to be a series of flashes in his mind and he had trouble making sense of it all. Too many flashes.
A pair of black dress shoes crunched the leaves in front of Reggie. He looked up at the slender man standing there. A large bronze badge hanging from his neck over an old neck tie caught Reggie’s attention.
“So, whose blood is that,” asked the detective.
Reggie tried to answer but all he could do was shake and spill a little more coffee.
“Listen,” said the man, “I’m Detective Orie and I just want you to tell me what you can about what happened tonight. Just take your time and tell me what you can.”
Reggie nodded and cleared his throat. He wiped his cheek and looked at the blood on back of his hand. His friend’s blood. All his friends. All their blood. Reggie dropped the coffee cup to the street and buried his face into his hands. He began to sob. Deep breathy sobs echoed through the neighborhood.
Detective Orie looked over to his partner and shook his head. His partner, nodded and told the ambulance driver to take Reggie out of there, to the hospital. The EMT helped the sobbing Reggie into the back of the ambulance. As they got him seated, he looked up at Detective Orie and managed to say, “It’s not over.” The doors of the ambulance slammed shut and it took off towards the rising sun.
“What was that about,” asked
Detective Teria as she watched the ambulance maneuver through the crowded
street.
“I’m not sure,” said Detective Orie, “This is a pretty bad one for sure.”
Detective Orie and his partner headed toward the house where the massacre had happened. They ducked under the classic yellow police line/crime scene tape. Detective Orie always felt that was so cliché but it was just a part of the job.
They stepped through the front entrance of the three-story home into the foyer. In front of them were the badly mutilated bodies of a young man and woman. Detective Teria looked back over her shoulder to take a quick fresh breath before venturing further. The tile floor was drenched in blood and they had to step around it gingerly. The Crime Scene techs had placed a piece of plywood stretching from the front door to the bottom step that led upstairs. It kept their feet out of the blood.
Detectives Orie and Teria looked up the carpeted stairs where two young women were sitting in puddles of blood. They were sitting back to back, dead, positioned on the stairs, leaning against each other. Set up in a macabre display.
“Jesus,” said Detective Teria.
They stepped around the bodies in the foyer and worked their way down the hall where yet another body was. A large man, in a football jersey, was apparently impaled by a beer keg, the spout protruding from the middle of his chest. Beer was still slightly dripping from the spout.
In the kitchen, there was blood spray and spatter all over the walls, the table, the chairs and appliances. The kitchen knives were all out of the knife block on the counter. The knives were sticking out of cabinets and the door frame. The next body was found shoved into an ironing board pantry. It was so crushed the Crime scene team thought it wasn’t a whole body.
“Have you ever seen anything like this,” asked Detective Teria.
Detective Orie shook his head no. He’d been to war. He’d been a cop for 15 years. Nothing in all that time was as terrible as this.
“So, the new is reporting that one
guy did all this,” said Teria.
“How’d the news get that info,” asked Orie.
Detective Teria shrugged and tried not to look at the crushed body in the ironing board pantry. She shuddered.
“We’ll have to get a statement from that survivor. But one guy doing all of…this? That seems hard to believe. I mean, what kind of psycho barges into a party and just does…this? It’s just not something I am prepared to think about,” said Detective Orie.
“Excuse me, Detective,” said one of the Crime Scene Techs, “you better have a look at this security footage.”
The detectives followed the tech to a home office off the living room. The tech had the monitor cued up to an image of the house’s back yard.
“You’re not going to believe this,” said the tech.
The detectives huddled in front of the screen as the tech pressed play.
“Dear God,” said Detective Orie as he watched a hulking mass of a man trudge through the yard holding a giant scythe. The man had some sort of mask over his face, a rabbit or a lion perhaps, the video was too grainy to make out. The man in the video stopped in the yard and pointed up at the camera before trudging into the house. He re-appeared in the yard a short time later trudging back the way he came. He was carrying a head in his hand like one would carry a bowling ball.
“Great,” said Detective Teria, “One guy. One massive guy with a giant scythe. Holding a human head. Shouldn’t be too hard to find right?”
“Maybe the kid was right,” said
Detective Orie, “Maybe this wasn’t over.”
