Blood Orchard Part 22

The maimed Blondies plopped out in rivulets of blood, and then crawled toward their father.

Sylvia towed her stumps from the right wall, speaking through a mouthful of maggots. "Please no...Daddy made us...do it...He made us...bully her."

Loren slithered from the left. "Oohh. Oohh."

Henna inched forth on her knees, holding her upside down head by the carotids level with her severed neck. "You never...loved us...You beat us...You hated...hated...hated...you hated us. You killed us."

Pritchard's nose bled. He bellowed. "No! Get away from me! Yer not my daughters! Yer not my Blondies!"

Jay crept back into the farthest corner. Pritchard had lost his focus. He was surrounded by his dead daughters, tortured by emotions buried in his black heart. The Blondies grabbed his legs and clawed at him. He reacted on instinct, unconvinced that the horrors were his girls. The Magnum sparked three times in a deafening echo. The Blondies toppled to the floor in unison. Their bodies smoldered and melted like candle wax. Left behind was a pool of blood and bones with three glinting badges.

The pocket door caved in. The crimson light extinguished. A flipped switch revealed Jay glued to the corner and Pritchard eyeing his smoking gun. Glaring steel walls and cardboard boxes surrounded them.

Nothing else.

They were alone in the panic room.

Pritchard turned to see a pair of Vance's buddies with shotguns linger in the doorway. His eyes glazed and he fell to his knees. The gun smoke burned his nostrils as he raised the barrel to his jaw. A trail of tears streamed. He pulled the trigger. His brains splattered the ceiling and he collapsed on the b.l.o.o.d.y floor.

Sam Emory entered the room. "What in the h.e.l.l?" He spotted Jay. "Sir? You okay?"

Jay swallowed the shock and forced his legs to stand. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"What the h.e.l.l's going on here?"

"Hostage. He had me hostage."

"Who? Raines? He had you locked in here?"

Jay shook his head. "No. Pritchard did. Raines never knew I was here."

Sam furrowed his brow.

Wendell Wurtz stepped forward. "Holy cow! I thought I knew that voice. You're Jay Donovan, WNDY News."

Before Jay could reply, an elderly man in a red raincoat pushed out of the crowd at the door. "Sam! You gotta see this! We found something in the backyard!"

Sam turned. "We know, Charlie. Three bodies. Where have you been?"

Charlie frowned when he saw Pritchard's bleeding corpse. "No, something else, that suddenly makes a whole lot of sense."

"Well, what is it?"

"You gotta see for yourself."

"Wendell, get the Chicago P.D. on the phone. Tell them we need the FBI down here."

Sam barged out of the room. Jay approached the crowd. Some of the men filtered in while most tailed Sam.

Jay stared at Coren's body as he followed the search party down the hall in a trance. His brain was scrambled. Nothing seemed real anymore. Had everything that night happened or had the haunted panic room cast a wicked spell?

He stepped through the shattered deck door. The moon shone bright and illuminated the backyard. There were men circling the well and prodding the grave near the sc.r.a.p metal. Some of the townies were waving flashlights beyond the fence in the wetlands.

Jay stopped a man in a poncho at the bottom of the steps. "Do you have a cellphone I could use?"

The man nodded and reached in his pocket. "Callin' the tip line?"

"You got it. I'll bring it right back."

Jay dialed home as he approached the well.

"Jeanette? Jeanette it's me. It's me, baby." His voice cracked and the past days stress blurred his vision. "No. I'm alive. I know, I know. I'm sorry. It's a long story." One of the men left the well and ran toward the glinting sc.r.a.p metal. "They did? They said I was missing? No, no. I'm still in Onward. I'll be home by morning. I promise. Jeanette? I love you."

Jay ended the call, dried his eyes on his sleeve. He stepped up to the well. Two men s.h.i.+ned flashlights in the hole. They stared at the skeleton that protruded a foot down in the crumbled wall. Something glinted from within. Jay's stomach turned when he saw what they gawked at. He vomited in the hole.

Sam stood on the opposite side. His mutter echoed down the well. "They all got the same thing in their mouths...barbed wire and sheriff badges. Jesus Christ. We got six dead girls on our hands."

Jay's head spun. His thoughts dwelled on the three-day horror story. Both sets of triplets had been found dead. The murders of Coren, Vance, Hank, Burl, and Francine brought the death toll to eleven.

Eleven deaths traced back to one sheriff.

Jay walked away and headed to the front yard, which had been converted to a parking lot. The reporter in him was dead. He lacked the urge to join the frenzy and ask or answer questions. He wanted to go home to his family.

He stopped a man in a postal uniform. He knew he had to act the reporter one last time if he wanted to skip the G.o.dforsaken town.

"Hi. I'm Jay Donovan, WNDY News. Is there any chance you could give me a lift to Chicago? My car's dead and I need to get this story to the station."

Ray Ratner grinned as if he stared at a movie star. "Jay Donovan? You bet! Will I be on TV?"

"You and everybody else."

Jay followed Ray through the crowd as sirens sliced the night in the distance. He pa.s.sed reporters he recognized whose smiles and comments were like bad reception. They thought he was there to cover the story. He was part of the story. They would uncover the details in due time. Right now it was all static. Every townie had a tale and three-fourths of them simply wanted to share the spotlight. They could have it.

Jay climbed into the rusty mail truck and gazed down the drive at the approaching line of police cars. Please get me out of here.

Ray Ratner turned on the radio as he waited for the parade to pa.s.s. "So, you ever done a story on mail carriers? I can tell you some tales. I remember this one time I had a letter -"

"There's a surprise."

"Now it wasn't just any letter, it -"

"Can we just get the h.e.l.l out of here?"

Ray continued to chatter as he pulled away. "Our town motto says it all. Onward and upward, yes sirree. Onward and upward."

"Would you just shut up and drive?"

At that moment, Jay needed Coren's best friend Seagram. Maybe he would have Ray stop at a bar on the way to Chicago.

Ray scowled as he floored the gas pedal. "You're gonna be out of my truck! d.a.m.n reporters! You're all the same! All you want is your stupid story!"

"This has been Jay Donovan, WNDY News."

Jay laughed until he thought he would wet himself while the bloodstained town of Onward danced in the spotlight.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

S.D. Hintz is the author of Starvelings, as well as numerous short stories is several anthologies and magazines. He is also the CEO/Editor-in-Chief of KHP Publishers, Inc. S.D. is married with two children and resides in Minnesota. Visit http://sdhintz.com to read more of his work.

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