The Last Customer (16 page)

Chapter 13

1

Cherri, Winny, and Garth entered the Gardner’s house. It was dark inside. The floor creaked as they entered. There wasn’t much comfort that came from being inside. The layout was foreign. Even the Gasper’s were disoriented. They’d never been to the house. Silently, Winny closed the broken front door. He didn’t know who was in the house. For all he knew, the psychos had somehow made it here. He hoped not.

“Mrs. Gardner!” Garth shouted. But there was no answer. No noises came from upstairs.

“I’ll check.” Winny said as he bolted up the staircase.

Once upstairs, Winny flung each door open. The last door led to the master bedroom, he could tell by the size of the unmade king-size bed. Donna had to be gone.

Winny went back downstairs.

They had to assume that Donna had left. She hadn’t answered the door and she wasn’t in the bedroom.
There had to be a phone here.
They needed to call the police. Winny inched the front door until it closed. The hinges creaked as he brought the door to the frame. Looking to the side, he grabbed a small stool, took the flower vase
off of
the round platform, and set it under the doorknob. It wouldn’t cause much resistance, but the door would remain closed. It wouldn’t be hanging open to where anyone outside would think the house was open for business. Worst case scenario, if the stool broke, they would be warned by the noise of the vase being knocked over. It would shatter and alert the group—they would know that someone was inside.

Winny turned and walked into the kitchen. Garth and Cherri searched opposite ends of the homey room, looking for the phone.

           
Upon entering, Winny looked to Garth, who stood near the sink. He searched the side of the cabinet with the palm of his hand.

Winny turned to the back wall, near the screen door, saw a light switch, and flipped it on. He watched Cherri’s eyes squint when the fluorescent bulbs infiltrated the room. The light was bright and uncomfortable. When Winny’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the phone. It was set near the back door, resting on a recharging phone port. He pointed to it as Garth’s wide eyes met his.

           
“Turn that light off, dumbass. We don’t want those crazy assholes knowing we’re in here.” Garth whispered angrily.

           
Winny felt stupid. He should’ve known better. He flipped the light off and moved toward Cherri. Her presence comforted him.

           
Garth punched his fingers into the keypad of the cordless phone: 9-1-1.

           
A white washcloth with blue stripes rested across the sink faucet. It was folded in thirds. Winny grabbed the cloth, wet it down, and handed it to Cherri. She smiled, took it and wiped off her bloody face. In the dark, with the moonlight shining in through the small window above the sink, Cherri was pretty, even with blood and muck dried to her face. She looked sad, used, but unmistakably pretty. There was something captivating about the way her features came together. She was a natural beauty and he sensed that she had a good heart. Even though she’d aided in robbing him, he saw something genuine in her. It was only a hunch, but he felt it.

           
“Are you all right?” Winny asked her.

           
She looked up. She was surprised. Her lips trembled as though she didn’t know what to say. After a short silence, she finally answered, “I don’t know. Everyone I know is dead. I feel lost and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared, and I’m sure that you two don’t care to have me here. Sooner or later you’re going to leave me.”

           
From across the kitchen, Garth lowered the cordless phone. He turned toward Cherri and said, “You got that right. You can go back to the store if you like. Go be with your friends.”

           
“Don’t be a jerk, Garth,” Winny barked.

           
Garth wasn’t concerned with Cherri’s well-being and he definitely didn’t care about her feelings. He started banging the cordless phone against his hand and shouting, “What the hell! The damn phone doesn’t work. There’s no dial tone.”

           
“What do you mean? Is it plugged in?” Winny asked.

           
Garth, again, looked at Winny like he was an idiot. He shook his head and let out a long sigh. He whispered angrily, “It’s cordless, ass-wipe.”

           
“I meant the charger. The charger has to be plugged in too. Otherwise the phone won’t work,” Winny said, calmly.

           
Winny turned to Cherri. She looked at him, affectionately. The glance was unmistakable. Her eyes drooped. The corners of her mouth hooked upward. She wanted to smile, and he liked it. Strangely, he was growing an attraction for her. Sure, she and her deceased boyfriend had robbed his store at gunpoint, but he didn’t think that she could have had much to do with what happened. She was too sweet. After assessing her and acknowledging the sadness that she carried, Winny sensed that she’d probably been a victim of circumstance. He didn’t think she was forced to be with those men, but maybe she was damaged and vulnerable, a misguided young woman who fell for the wrong guy. Maybe she didn’t know how to escape. It was a story that had been told many times.

But, Winny could be wrong, that was for sure.

           
“Aha!” Garth cried. He was hunched over the floor, near an electric outlet. He plugged in the phone charger. He tilted his head toward Winny, smiled and said, “Sorry bro, you were right. It wasn’t plugged in.”

           
The face of the cordless phone lit up green. Garth punched in the numbers. He put his ear to the receiver. A frown formed on his face. He lowered the phone. Something crashed against the side of the house. The wall rumbled and shook. It felt like a boulder had hit the wall. The green light on the phone died, as did the digital time on the microwave above the stove.

There was silence.

           
Someone cut the power.

2

Sparks shot between her fingers, charring her flesh. The twisted metal tore into her skin. Burning blood oozed from her new wounds. Jezebeth stepped back from the electric meter. She held a mass of aluminum coil in her mangled hands. The sparks shocked her, sending heavy volts of electricity through her stolen body. She’d ripped outlet loose from the side of the house. More sparks shot in quick bursts from the jagged and twisted aluminum. They looked like speeding fireflies and burned her skin black all the way up to her forearms. She didn’t mind. The body she wore would be finished soon. A smile stretched across her face. She looked up at the old brick farmhouse and admired how dark it was.

Her excitement grew. Her prey was nestled inside, scared. She liked it when they played hard-to-get. It made the kill more exciting and she would kill all of them. She wanted to tear their insides into a thousand pieces and bathe in their blood. She moved through the backyard. Her feet left deep imprints in the dew glazed grass. She looked forward, watching for movement in the house. Thin streaks of smoke billowed from her hands.

Looking into the Gardner’s small kitchen window that sat above the sink, she saw movement. The room was dark. She saw a shadow bounce across the window. It was her prey. The obscure form danced across the darkened kitchen.

Still smiling, Jezebeth walked up the back stairs. She wrapped her burned hand around the small aluminum door handle while her excitement grew. She could taste the blood of the innocent, watering her mouth. It was good.

           
She opened the screen door.

3

Every breath that Gardner took was a feat. This was the toughest battle he’d fought and it was far from over. He didn’t want to think about the challenge ahead. He huffed with stinging lungs while he ran up the gravel driveway. Normally, he was in good shape, but tonight he was fatigued. He hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t seen it coming. He shook it off. It didn’t matter. He would continue fighting until he couldn’t go any further. His knees, back and chest hurt, yet he was determined. He had to do this. He slowed down as he neared the house. Defensively, he needed to think about his method of entry. The demon waited for him inside.

What was the best avenue of attack?

The moonlight kicked a white glow on the cream colored brick. But overall, the house was darker than usual. He couldn’t explain it. It held a dark life force. The porch lights were off. The electricity was out. He could only imagine who had maneuvered the blackout. The silence was unsettling.

He walked—with caution—toward the back door. Looking down at the damp grass—that he’d intended on cutting tomorrow—he saw footprints spread between his broken electric meter and the back screen door. The meter was a tangle of twisted metal. Tangled aluminum tubing rested in the wet grass. He followed the footsteps with growing concern. He hoped that he wasn’t walking into a bloodbath.

He would enter from the back door with caution. Hopefully, entering through the back was less expected. Also, he noticed as he walked across the front yard, that the front door was cracked, probably broken. Long splinters of fractured wood lay scattered across the porch. The wooden particles stretched down to the cobblestone walkway.

He would go through the back door. Maybe it was a good idea, maybe it wasn’t. Regardless, it was the best idea he could come up with.

Images of Donna consumed his thoughts. He prayed that she was all right. His longing for her was unsettling. His anxiety had peaked.

He stepped around the corner of his house. His feet stopped. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was being given a vision. It was of Donna. She was in the back seat of a car. Someone was whistling. It was Sammael. He was taking his wife somewhere. He could see the car moving toward a blinking light. The light was red.
They were on Main Street.
And it struck him; they were coming back to the house. They didn’t want Donna, but they would get to him through her. He was slightly relieved that Donna was alive. He only hoped that he could keep her this way.

They had already hurt her. Thoughts of Donna—in pain—infuriated Gardner. His anger grew.

           
Closing his eyes tight, he fell to his knees and prayed. It was all that he could do, and he needed to do something. His hands clapped together. He raised them to the night sky. “Show me the answer. I’ll do as you ask. Please keep Donna safe. I’ll accept anything as long as you keep her safe.”

           
As he prayed, he felt the disappointment of God fall upon him. He knew God’s anger. He’d neglected the incredible gift that he’d been blessed with. He ignored his destiny, for a very long time. It was true—he could have saved many lives throughout the years. He started to feel that he was responsible for many great losses. But he wasn’t young anymore. He couldn’t handle the fight and maybe he didn’t need to be fighting evil spirits and exorcising demons, but he needed to be conducting goodwill for the better of mankind. That was something he hadn’t done in many years. Sure, there were little league games and he’d gotten through to a few teens, but he was capable of so much more. He was capable of inspiring others.

His visions guided his thoughts. He was shown the many opportunities to help others, but had chosen not to act upon them.

           
“Forgive me.” He cried while tears ran down his face. The wet drops settled above his upper lip. Annoyingly, the wetness tickled. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. He felt like sneezing.

           
Inhaling deep, his thoughts began to come together. He felt better. He’d needed this release. The euphoria coursing through him felt like warm shining light. It radiated within his soul. His powers had been restored.

He stood.

Feeling strong now, he ran around the side of his house. He sprinted into the backyard. He jumped up the small set of cement stairs that led to the back door. One of the demons might be on the other side of the door, but he didn’t care. He was determined and it felt right.

           
One demon at a time.

4

“We need to get into town. Maybe Father Gardner’s truck is in the garage. We can take it, he’ll understand.” Garth said while shaking his head at the lifeless telephone. Their cell phones were smashed—the power was out. The only way to get help was to get away from here.

His eye-line traveled upward toward Winny,
and that piece of trash Cherri
. His head stopped moving. His eyes locked on what stood behind Winny. A disturbing presence was among them. Garth stepped backward and began to shake. His feet shifted.

Standing among them—nearly undetected—was the crazy woman from the store.
Jezebeth
. Her face was caked with a mixture of dried and wet blood. Her arms were black, like they’d been burned. Her smile had stretched so wide that the corners of her lips had torn. Her jutting teeth and upper gums were exposed. Her right cheek had begun to droop where the skin was peeling.

His hands fumbled with the telephone. His slick fingers bobbled across the buttons. He didn’t know why he bothered. The phone was obviously dead. Maybe he was hoping for a miracle. Finally, the phone fell from his hand. It broke when it hit the floor dislodging the battery and sending it sliding across the surface. Cherri and Winny were scared stood trembling at the far end, near the table.

           
“Run! For Christ’s sake, Run!” Garth screamed, and then he was sprinting toward the back of the kitchen.

Halted in place, Jezebeth’s arm stretched outward, beyond what was humanly possible. It wrapped around Garth’s waist. Jezebeth’s arm, from the bicep to the forearm stretched five feet. The skin tore along her triceps. The charred skin of her arms flaked off and looked like burning chunks of ash Blood pelted the kitchen floor from the jagged tears. Her arm retracted, pulling Garth with it. He tried to run, but his strength was useless in comparison.