The South Georgia Massacre: A Slasher Horror Novel (Kegger Slasher Horror Series, Book 1) by Wallace Henry

Author:Wallace Henry [Henry, Wallace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

21

HOUSEBOUND

—MICHAEL—

Michael had a bad feeling about losing Retta, but he kept up appearances for Jean’s sake. She was starting to lose her luster, and he didn’t think she would be any help if she had a breakdown.

“Retta!” he screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth and swiveling his head to see if he noticed anything in the far-off distance. Pretending as though this were all completely normal.

Acting.

Something about it felt so natural.

As if he’d been doing it his whole life.

And, in a way, he had.

“Loretta?” Jean echoed, inching closer and closer to the corner of the house, threatening to disappear into the overgrown weeds in the backyard.

He didn’t know why, but he almost told her to stop. To turn around. To get the hell away from there.

But of course he didn’t.

He was still trying to process everything that had happened, was still trying to put the pieces together so they made sense.

But nothing made sense.

The pieces fit together too neatly, for one thing. Everything seemed to be a convenient, strange…coincidence.

As if it were planned.

“She probably went back to the van,” Michael said. “Got tired of waiting for us.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but I don’t think she’d have left without telling us.”

“We were inside.”

“Yeah, but we could still hear her. She would have called out. This isn’t like Retta at all.”

Michael shrugged. “You know her better than I do.”

“There’s something very odd about this situation.”

“Oh, you mean finding a dead body in the middle of the road?” he asked, smiling despite the circumstances.

“No,” she replied, “it’s here. This place. There’s something awfully wrong about this place, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.”

“You saying there’s something wrong with my home?”

The woman—Pam—slipped from behind the screen door and joined them on the porch. The odor coming off her was nothing less than extraordinary.

Michael had experienced some pretty horrific things in the jungle, but this rivaled any of it.

She smelled—and he was not exaggerating—like roadkill.

“Nothing wrong with your home,” Michael said, smiling. Trying to placate their hostess. “Just put off by everything we’ve experienced the last few hours.”

Pam leaned against the railing and said, “People go missin’ all the time.”

Jean opened her mouth to protest, but Michael shook his head, and for once, she obliged.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Michael said, “but I think we ought to do our due diligence before we head back to the van.”

To get away from the situation—and the smell—Michael bounded down the front porch steps and headed off toward the back of the house.

Jean followed along on his heels, and Michael could feel his half-sister’s anxiety radiate off her like heat from a neglected stove.

“I know,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder to ensure the house’s owner had not followed them.

“This is ridiculous,” Jean replied. “Retta could barely walk. Why in the world would she go off and head to the van on her own?”

He didn’t say what he was thinking. Didn’t say what his initial thought was.

And yet, he couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming.

She’s not back at the van, the voice inside him intimated.

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