The Suffering by J.D. Matheny

Author:J.D. Matheny [Matheny, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-22T22:00:00+00:00

15

Dean

Dean lay awake well after dark had settled in and the moon cast menacing shadows to dance on the wall. He was thinking about what Evie had said. What she had told him about a strange creature that had pursued them from the Hopkin’s place.

He had rejected the idea outright, passing it off as the fancy of a teenager with an overactive imagination fueled by the stress of a high-pressure situation. That was the easy route to take, the thing that would keep his mind settled and his grip on reality firm. Evie didn’t seem like the type to make up stories, and he’d seen from the that she believed what she told him, but how could he accept that such a thing existed?

Then he remembered the world as it was. The billions of dead scattered about the Earth, their bodies not succumbing to rot or corruption, their features frozen in elation, smiles stretching across their faces. Who was he to say that the creature Evie had described couldn’t exist? What had she ever done to cause him to doubt her?

Nothing.

He tried to picture the beast she described and instantly an underfunded B-Movie where you could see the seams in the neck of the doggy costume if you looked closely enough flashed in his mind.

You’ve got the heebie-jeebies. After all you’ve been through, it’s to be expected. She had them first, and she passed them on to you. All she saw was some feral dog running down the road. Can’t blame her mind for making something more sinister of it. Probably would have done it myself.

He watched the shadows play across the wall, looking less malevolent than they had minutes before. Looked over at Emily, sleeping peacefully at his side, a locket of hair draped down over her face. The simple act of twisting his head like that would have been impossible a few days ago. Now the pain was down to a moderate level of soreness.

Emily’s yellow hair appeared to shimmer golden in the moonlight, like the sun showing through a glass of iced tea. Her chest moved up and down in a steady, peaceful rhythm. The temptation to imagine she was Rachel was strong. If he felt more like his old self, he might have kissed her then, wrapped her in his arms and told her how much he loved her. How much he missed her.

But Rachel was gone. Emily was sleeping beside him now. Not his wife. His wife was dead

Emily.

Dean sighed, scratched as his formidable beard, and slipped out of bed. Easing the door open, he padded a few feet down the hall and opened the door to the girls’ room. He listened for the slow, deep breathing. Satisfied, he crept deeper into the room and found that the girls were snuggled together.

He smiled at Evie and Sarah sleeping close to each other, faces relaxed and peaceful. Then the empty bed reminded him. Ian should be there.

It was his dead wife and son, memories of the violent and senseless death of his good friend Keith, that made him want to rage at the world.

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