SHUDDERVILLE SIX Read Online Free Page A

“Shut up!” he roared, and she gasped a bunch of times and stopped.
    He tromped down the steps and wove through the crates and junk and found his grandmother’s moth-eaten trunk and threw it open. He grabbed his kit and hurried back up the stairs. “Bella, I don’t want to hear another peep out of you!”
    He detoured into the kitchen, where he peeled a couple of trash bags off the roll. Then he took the stairs to the second floor, where he saw the place with new eyes. He didn’t like what he saw.
    The old-fashioned tub had dripping faucets and the toilet didn’t flush properly. Everything was streaked with rust. Everything was moldy. He put down his kit and went to check on the thing across the hall. He approached the cage slowly, cautiously, and the creature stirred in the shadows. Colton could make out its strange features moving in the darkness. “Sorry, buddy. You okay? Huh? Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. The bad lady’s gone.” He held up his hand to the cage, pressing his palm flat against the wires, because you couldn’t poke your fingers in there. He had the scars to prove it. The thing gratefully licked his hand. It had a moist sandpapery tongue. It was amazing—you fed something and you earned its loyalty forever. “Everything’s okay now. Go back to sleep.” It stopped licking his hand and shrank into the shadows, where it watched him with wet, menacing eyes.
    Colton got up and crossed the room and gently closed the door behind him. He strode across the hallway and stood staring down at the prostitute. He hated her for showing him exactly who he was.
    He opened his kit and took out the rag and the bottle. He leaned over the tub and could see that she was still breathing. Still alive. He opened the trash bag and tossed in her purse and jacket and shoes. He took off her socks and pulled off her T-shirt and unzipped her jeans, and he put everything in the bag until she lay in the tub in her underwear. She wore a thin red bra and a matching pair of red thong underpants.
    He sat on the bathroom floor and waited for her to regain consciousness again. He waited for six or seven minutes, until her eyelids fluttered open. She inhaled a big gasp, but he was ready for her. He held the soaked rag to her face, and she kicked and flailed around, but he kept the pressure up until she blinked out like a light.
    Blackwood, New York
    When Benjamin got home from work that night, he parked his car, got out and stood looking at the woods across the street, branches stirring in a chilly breeze. The sun had set and the sky was a haunting crimson color. He shuddered and drew his coat collar tight. The voice, the presence, had been fading in and out all day long. Pulsating like the tide, back and forth, back and forth. It was exhausting. He finally had a name. Bella. She reminded him of thunderclouds, of a looming ozone-filled atmosphere. Her presence was not wholly human. He could sense her all around him now. She was in pain. She needed rescuing.
    The voice, this feeling, was coming from the east. Everything pointed in that direction. Now the sun sank below the horizon and the sky dimmed. His heart raced as he surrendered himself to the darkness. It had snowed again this morning, and the ground was lacy blue in the moonlight. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to his right, where the woods were dense and pitchy. But it was just the wind shaking patches of snow off the trees. He felt a sweep of movement to his left and turned again. But it was just the wind in the trees. He was jumpy. He told himself to chill. Calm down.
    He walked toward the house, taking the cold air deep into his lungs. The night sky felt incredibly close, like the domed ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The single yard light cast a yellow rectangle over the snow. The gutters were laced with icicles. He paused to inspect the dry rot on the weathered boards, wrinkling and alligatoring in the moonlight. He mounted the porch