The Monster Within by Jeremy Laszlo

Author:Jeremy Laszlo
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: best seller, new release, stephen king, steven king, new horror, new thriller, new horror series, best selling horror novels, best selling thrillers, new thriller series
Published: 2014-09-12T16:00:00+00:00

11

I’ve seen a lot of places in this city that remind me of Whispering Hills. It’s a trailer park that is its own contained form of a ghetto. A miniature society built within a stitched together network of self-sustaining, governing miniature societies that make up the outskirts of the city, surrounding all the happy, well-to-do and the rich people. This is where the angry, broken, beaten, and worn go to hide out for the rest of their days. It’s the dark part of the city that everyone avoids or just passes through if they have to. No one likes these places, especially me. I’ve spent too much time in dusty, hot places like Whispering Hills, leaning over dead bodies. This is where you get shot because you looked wrong at your neighbor.

I pull up behind a squad car that’s parked right in front of an old, sun-faded billboard with a smiling, happy cowboy over the name of the trailer park. I wonder if this place is inhabited with smiling, happy cowboys or if that’s false advertising. I stop the car and wish that I was back questioning Kendall Stein. At least there was aesthetic appeal all around there. I could admire the people and the décor. Here, I’m stuck with dust, tumbleweeds, and strange looking people who gave up on life long before the race really started. I step out of my Shelby and wonder if I’m going to be missing my tires when I come back.

A uniform steps toward me and holds up his hand, I flash him my ID. He looks at it thoroughly and head deeper into the trailer park. People are standing out on their makeshift porches looking south to where a tangle of cop cars are parked and yellow caution tape is stretched out in a perimeter to keep prying eyes away. There’s a woman with curlers still in her hair and in a nightgown that looks more like a tarp she’d purchased at some big chain store. She looks at me and I try really hard to figure out who still wears curlers in their hair. In fact, who still lives in a trailer park? She looks at me with her toad-like face and I give her a nod. She just stares at me, as if she thinks I can’t see her. I give up trying to communicate with the locals. Scotty, there are zero signs of life down here.

I pass a uniform who is interviewing a man with a mullet and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so that his tattooed arms can bask in the glorious light of the sun. He looks at me with a sunken-in, worn looking face before he spits to the side and starts answering the uniform’s questions again, pointing back toward the entrance of the trailer park and across the street to a red and white gas station. I look back at the trailer I’m heading for and I catch the sight of a beautiful, blonde girl being questioned by a lady cop, since ladies generally begin gabbing.

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