blood of a marionette

Chapter 19 “Pyrle? Where are you?!”

May 17, 2009 at 10:02 pm (Uncategorized)

          The street was dark.  There were no streetlights nor were the windows in any of the three houses lit up.  A delicate moonlight cast a glow on the houses making them seem benign in their quietude.  In Lazarus’s mind, Pyrle’s house was not peaceful despite its attempt at quaintness.  The abandoned Victorian house with its rotting shingles and dilapidated wrap-around porch seemed imposing.  The moonlight reflected the broken glass on the balcony windows on the third floor.  Pyrle’s next door neighbors’ driveway was empty. 

            “Let’s do this,” Amelia said, “Grab the sack.”

            Lazarus did and asked, “What’s the duffel for anyway?”

            Outside the truck, she came around to his side, carrying the shotgun low at the waist, and she whispered to him, “It’s for his heart when I carve it out.  I brought some stakes and a wooden box filled with garlic.  I want this bastard dead.”

            Lazarus dry heaved.

            “Hey,” Amelia said, “Do that quietly.  Come on.”

            They crept towards Pyrle’s house, past his empty neighbor’s driveway and immaculate lawn.  The two approached Pyrle’s car and crept to the front door.  The porch light was off.  Then headlights appeared down the road.  Lazarus looked back as the car parked next to Amelia’s truck.  He could not make out the model of the car despite the moonlight.

            “Ignore it,” Amelia said.

            “Do we knock?” he asked.

            “Fuck you,” she said, and turned the knob.

            It was unlocked and they walked in to the apparently empty house.  They stood in the uncluttered hall looking into the living room they had seen earlier and to their right a neat bedroom.  The hardwood floors reflected their faces.  Farther back to the right, there was a closed door with the light shining from behind the plain door.  Amelia nodded to the door, and she padded over to it with Lazarus following close behind.

            Amelia tested the knob, and it turned.  She threw open the door and fired the gun into the room.  The blast lit up the room in an artificial glare, throwing the crammed bookshelves and crowded desk.  Bits of books went flying across the room, and the noise reverberated throughout the house. 

            “Where did he go?” she asked, “There are no windows in this room, and his cigarette is still burning in the ashtray.”

            “You are so crazy,” Lazarus said, clutching the bulky duffel to his chest.

            “Out of my way,” she said. 

            Amelia stepped out into the hall just as the motion detector in the back yard set off the flood light. 

            “Aha!” she yelled and went charging towards the back door. 

            She went flying headfirst as she raced towards the door.  Between the two walls which created a small hallway to the back door, Pyrle had tied a string at ankle level.  Amelia tumbled into the pane of glass of the back door.  It was shatterproof, so all that Amelia did was grunt and collapse on the ground.  Lazarus rushed over to her, but she pushed him away.  Hauling herself with the foul smelling gun, Amelia pushed open the door and ran after Pyrle, and Lazarus followed. 

            The two of them turned the corner of the house and were now in between Pyrle and his neighbor’s house.  Pyrle’s dark figure was in the middle street, heading towards the forest behind the Victorian house.

            “Drop dead, you conniving bastard!” she yelled and fired again.

            The night lit up again like a violent flash of a photograph.  As the sound traveled into the woods, Pyrle collapsed.  He pulled himself up, gripping the lower left section of his back, but he still kept running. 

            Amelia took off after him, and Lazarus followed after a moment’s hesitation.  Amelia ran with the spirit of a blind rage, and Lazarus struggled to keep up, the black duffel banging against his thigh.  Pyrle changed direction and instead of heading to the woods, he bolted up the stairs of the Victorian house.  Amelia was already across the street when Lazarus noticed another figure running down the road.  He moved to intercept it, and stopped in shock when he saw that it was Scarlett.  The flashlight she was carrying blinded him, temporarily robbing of his night vision.

            He grabbed her by the shoulders and asked, “What are you doing here?!”

            She shrugged him off and pushed him on the chest, “What do you mean what am I doing here?  You are running around with some crazy girl who likes to shoot professors.  I am coming to save you!”

            Lazarus hugged her and said, “Thanks.”

            Let’s get out of here,” Scarlett said, “I’ll call the police.”

            Then they heard an enraged scream and another burst from the shotgun.  It was muffled from inside the house even with one of the windows shattering on the first floor.

            “We can’t,” he said, “I’ve got to stop her.  This is all my fault.”

            “I’ll come with you.”

            They took off for the house.  Up the rickety stairs, they burst through the screen door which dangled on one hinge. There was no solid wooden door present.  The two stood and gaped in the hallway of the large house.  The hallway opened up into an immense two story ceiling.  There was a double staircase leading up to the second floor, and to the left and the right were hallways which opened up into rooms haunted by irregular and boxy draped pieces of furniture.  Lazarus turned around.  The wall behind them hosted a huge picture of a dapper looking man wearing a pinstripe suit and a monocle; however, the picture was overwhelmed by rips, a thick layer of dust, and an empty bird nest. 

            “Who is that man?” Lazarus asked, “And why did he build a house out here?”

            Scarlett replied, “Pyrle is the caretaker of the house.  Truste, Loade, and Surn had it built many years ago, and purposefully let it decay, to keep people out.”

            He looked at her, “How do you know these things?”

            She smiled and said, “Need to know.”

            Any further conversation was cut off by another boom. 

            “It came from the third floor,” Lazarus said.

            Reaching the third floor, they heard heavy breathing and walked towards it.  In the room off the hallway, they saw Pyrle crouching behind a drape covered sofa.  He resembled an animal, hair a mess and wild eyes.  He growled at them, revealing unnaturally sharp but did not move. 

            “Pyrle?  Where are you?!” Amelia yelled from another room. 

            They heard her footsteps approaching closer, and Lazarus and Scarlett froze in fear, unwilling to move towards either Pyrle or Amelia.

                                  Chapter 18                                             Chapter 20