Casting Shadows Everywhere by L T Vargus & Tim McBain

Author:L T Vargus & Tim McBain [Vargus, L T & McBain, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smarmy Press
Published: 2019-03-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

ANOTHER NIGHT. ANOTHER HOUSE. IT was a big Tudor place in a cluster of rich-looking houses nestled among an otherwise shitty neighborhood. In fact, it was the big steel fence and gate surrounding the home that initially piqued our interest.

I crawled through the dark on all fours, hands and feet bobbing and scrabbling. I clamped my flashlight between my teeth like a pirate’s blade.

The bursts of light brought me pictures of wall-to-wall yellow shag carpet and those shitty tan couches with prints of like a stream and a water wheel at a mill or something on them. Hideous. The TV looked like one of those huge wooden ones from the late 70s or early 80s. The décor did not exactly convey any promise of concealed riches, but I supposed you never know for sure.

I wouldn’t say I moved more quickly than before, really, but now I moved with more confidence somehow. I felt no real fear, I think. Just excitement and anticipation and all of that. I’d put in some reps. My brain was wired to do this now.

I shuffled down the final hallway, swinging my lamp about like a lightsaber. All the rooms came up empty. We’d wound up at another place with no one home somehow. That foreclosure aside, Nick seemed to have a knack for picking houses.

I double-checked the bedroom — still empty, obviously — and circled back to the back door where Nick was waiting. (We’d spent about twenty minutes peeling off screens only to find locked windows. Then Nick tried the rear door. Unlocked. I think it wasn’t even closed all the way.) Now the real search began in earnest as we picked through the heaps of junk looking for valuables.

We started in the bedroom, Nick dumping the dresser drawers and the few wooden boxes on the dresser top. He sifted, paused to look over an item and went back to sifting. Nothing of interest.

After a look under the bed revealed only cobwebs, I slid open the drawer in the bedside table. A string of beads rested in there that, for a split second, I thought were large pearls. Next to that were two more balls, metal this time, on a string. My hand moved to them but stopped short. Something made me hesitate.

“What are these?” I said.

Nick leaned over to peer into the drawer. He laughed.

“Those are ben wa balls.”

“Oh,” I said. “What’s that?”

He laughed again. He pointed to the metal balls.

“Well... you stick those in the girl’s cooter.”

(“Cooter.” People actually say that, and some of them are even related to me. Unbelievable.)

“And then there on the right you got some anal beads,” he said. “I think you know where those go.”

Yikes. We didn’t speak for a moment.

“What the hell is wrong with people?” I said.

Nick shrugged.

* * *

Further tearing through the house failed to reward us, though we didn’t find any more creepy sex toys, at least. We dug through the kitchen a second time. Nick grew more and more agitated. He didn’t say anything, but I could read it in the deepening folds and creases on his face.

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