Page 22 of When Darkness Calls

“Don’t worry. I got it covered.” Keegan flashes his lighter at me, with a sadistic smile on his face. I smirk back.

“Good. We confirmed the kids have a place, right?”

He nods, pulling out his mask, lighter fluid, and something in a syringe.

“They have an aunt in Tennebris. Wealthy family. Seems she severed ties with Jerry after she caught him stealing stuff from their shed. But her and her husband have been trying to have a kid. Three rounds of IVF according to the med records. They’ll be happy, loved, and most of all,” he stops, pulling the syringe out, flicking the end with his middle finger, “finally fucking safe.”

That’s all that matters.

I had made a pact with myself long ago, back when this first began. These are bad people, doing bad things. They do it because they’re evil, selfish, greedy, and have no care for others’ lives and the damage they cause them. But us. We’re good guys doing bad things for a good reason. It cancels out. Ya know, like PEMDAS or whatever.

With one glance at each other, we put our masks on, and we’re no longer Grayson and Keegan. We aren’t the same guys that like to fuck around on the weekends, eating pizza, and talking shit about the work week. We’re something close to inhuman. Monsters. Protectors. Guardians. Harbingers of death, or something much worse.

The thud of our doors closing echoes on the empty street. Darkness has finally fallen, and everyone in this area knows you don’t go out at night. You never know who you’re going to come across.

Keegan’s white mask, so similar to my own, yet so different, bears its signature sutured appearances. The lines are precise and clean. Just like normal stitches would be. And I know personally, his sutures are the same. Like the needle and thread are an extension of his arm.

Keegan has the syringe already in hand. I dug in my duffel bag, tossing it to him, and slid the cool metal of my brass knuckles onto my fingers. Their weight brings a sense of peace, security, and comfort. I’m unstoppable in this mask and with these bracing my hands. Too quick to see. To quiet to hear. A shadow in the dark. You know it’s there, but it cannot be seen, touched, heard.

A window in the back of the house gives me the perfect entry point. No need for doors that could potentially creak or groan when they open and close. We’ll do that when we leave. Especially since any noise we make might be covered up by the fire that will be blazing in the backyard. Keegan gives me a nod, signaling he’s ready when I am, and I’m off.

Slow movements through the cracked window, steps light as a feather on the floorboards. I pass a mountain of dirty dishes and trash piled in the corner of the kitchen. A hall with photographs framed of a family that at first glance appeared to be happy, thriving. Two kids, two parents. Big smiles on all of their faces.

Yet, as the pictures progress, the truth grows more and more clear. The first was around a Christmas tree. The smiles look real, the woman’s eyes crinkling in the corner as Jerry is looking down at her holding a little boy as she holds a baby bundled in a pink blanket. One with the woman in a blue sundress, sitting under a tree, a book in her hand, and a wide smile that looks close to unnatural. A yellow tinge marking her collar bone and around her left eye.

The next was the two kids and Jerry. He looked so much younger. Head full of thick brown hair, his kids under his arms, but something was off.

They just kept getting worse. One of the whole family, still holding those too big smiles, the woman’s arms wrapped around the kids, bruises on her wrists, Jerry standing a few inches away, the hand on the woman’s shoulder having discolored knuckles.

The woman, seeming much younger, with a background of clouds, genuinely smiling, placed above a small poem.

Then of the kids distancing from him, his appearance deteriorating until the last one, one that looks more recent maybe a year or two old, he stands there, sweaty, red-faced, thin hair, and a look in his eyes that tells you he’s lost his humanity, his soul.

Whatever, or whoever, Jerry once was, he’s gone.

In the living room, the TV casts the room in flickers of colorful lights, but the couch is empty. That’s fine, I can wait here. I inch across the room, my back against the wall opposite the hallway, next to a small alcove. Jerry’s in his room. The sound of drawers slamming and mumbled cursing flows through the cracked door. The other two rooms I guess are his kids’. Maybe a bathroom. I’m not sure.

Note to self…Next time see if Cade can get floor plans.

Jerry stumbles, catching himself on the door frame, his hand gripping it through the gap.

In the next instant, he jerks the door wide and takes a step out. He doesn’t get much of a chance to even understand what he’s seeing before my arm shoots out, knuckles catching the corner of his chin, and he goes down.

The heavier the fall.

I chuckled to myself, looping the rope around his arms, careful to tie each knot precisely, tight to keep him immobile, before moving on to his feet. I’m just finishing the last knot as Keegan comes in, with the flashes on the TV I can make out the gleam in his eyes and his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Have fun?” I ask him, sarcasm dripping from each word.

“More than you know.” His voice is rough, strained.

I shake my head, motioning to the lump of asshole at my feet. “Stick him fast. Then help me lug him out. He’s a lot bigger than I expected.”

Together, we got him out the back door. The fire along the back fence crackling happily. Keeg’s eyes follow each flame as it licks the night sky, but surprisingly he keeps up with me, and we get him in the back of my car unseen.

“Cade’s making the call right?” I ask as I settle into the driver’s seat. He’s taken his mask off, looking off into the distance behind me, still watching his handy work.

“Yeah. Just gotta send him the text. Given the weather, the garage should be caught. I have already checked and all I seen were old bikes and boxes of his supplies. When the trucks come it would be just about to catch the right side of the house.” He’s so distracted his voice has gained monotony.