Gathering

By B.P. Kasik

A young man with a knife can do a lot of damage. Can kill everyone in his hometown, given enough time. And once his mission is accomplished, he enjoys playing with the spirits (and bodies) of the dead. Until his kingdom is violated and he's forced to start his work anew in a new town. But he meets someone there who gives him pause. Might she stop him? Join him? The broken souls of this new town struggle against the unimaginable evil that descends on them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.P. Kasik
• Release date: Mar 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370148370

B.P. Kasik

B.P. Kasik is the author of dozens of humor, horror, YA, mystery, fantasy, and/or science fiction books. Has a wife and kids. Is on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and a blog somewhere. Also known as “Phony McFakename.” Thinks about you every now and then. Hopes you’re doing well.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Carmen dropped her keys as she pushed the front door open. She cussed—quietly so the kids in the car wouldn’t hear—as she carried the two grocery bags into the kitchen. She went back to pick up the keys and saw Enoch standing on the front porch.

Hello, Mrs. Riddle.

She smiled distractedly as she picked up her keys and marched back down the hallway. Hello, Enoch.

She couldn’t remember what his exact diagnosis was—some form of autism? Not exactly Asperger’s, but something like it. She didn’t have time to think about it. As usual, Enoch let himself in and followed her into the kitchen, looking around with bright-eyed curiosity.

It looks like you cleaned recently. Everything is so shiny.

Yes, I did, Enoch. Thank you for noticing.

She normally tried to pay attention and be kind to Enoch, since most people in town tended to ignore or dismiss him when he walked into their houses. He was disconcerting at times, but also unfailingly good-natured and she supposed he could use more positive interactions outside his family. She understood that he spent most of his time behind closed doors with his overprotective foster mother, who had issues of her own.

But this time, she just couldn’t divide her attention as well. She looked at her watch. There was never enough time.

Hyrum, out in the car and crying, had gotten himself a leg-consuming rash from running in the ivy past the edge of the preschool playground the previous day. The ointment he’d been prescribed had an ingredient that was an allergen for their scruffy Rottweiler, Leroy. So whenever Carmen came home, she had to take Leroy out back, let him take care of his business, then lock him in the guest bedroom adjacent to the living room before she could bring Hyrum inside.

It really upset the little guy not to be able to play with Leroy. They were both four years old and had grown up side-by-side, loving each other and taking countless naps together. Leroy was commendably tolerant of Hyrum’s yanking on his ears and sometimes over-aggressive petting. The hallway wall was covered with photos of Hyrum and Leroy as fellow brown-eyed babies. These images melted everyone who visited their home, making them feel warm and welcome.

Hyrum was deeply upset that he hadn’t been able to play with Leroy the previous night and he was making plenty of noise about not being able to see him again that day. He didn’t understand that his skin medicine would make Leroy sick.

Enoch walked up next to her as she called, Outside! Go outside, boy! to Leroy. Outside was the key word to get Leroy to pop a squat or lift a leg. Worked every time.

Leroy is a cute dog.

Thank you, Enoch.

It just popped in her head that she’d forgotten to pick up the fliers for Anya’s bake sale. But she didn’t want to go out again. She pulled out her phone and dialed her husband’s work number and waited for him to pick up. But he didn’t.

She checked her watch again. 4:19. Connor was always bolted to his desk from his lunch hour to quitting time. He prided himself on not even breaking for the bathroom in that chunk of time. And he had call waiting, so he would take her call if he was there. Yet no answer came.

First time for everything, I suppose, she muttered.

Enoch joined her in the kitchen. She jumped a bit when she saw him. He moved like a ghost. Is something wrong?

No, nothing’s wrong, Enoch, I just can’t seem to reach my husband. The phone was still in her hand.

Is he still home? he asked.

Carmen shook her head, hung up, and dialed Connor’s personal number instead. I don’t think so, Enoch.

He looked at the floor, so clean and shiny he could see his reflection in it. I think he is, he said.

Carmen smiled and nodded as the phone rang. Again—he didn’t pick up. But it was possible that the call hadn’t actually gone through. They lived in an extremely spotty reception area where driving down one street could take you in and out of three separate hot spots. And the signal was always weak. The price to pay for those lovely mountain views on all sides.

She cussed under her breath again as Leroy trotted into the kitchen, mile-wide grin on his face. He looked up at Petra, wagged his tail, and sat down.

She realized she might have to go out and pick up the flyers herself. Anya’s Girl Scout troop really needed to get the word out about their Sunday bake sale. They were desperately strapped for funds, since fewer boxes of cookies had been purchased than in any previous year. Unsold cookies just made everyone look bad. And if they didn’t publicize this event, spread paper about it all over town, they might not be able to afford their yearly week-long camping trip. They couldn’t just do a social media push like they did last year. That disastrous marketing campaign taught them how few people in their town paid attention to the Internet.

And Carmen knew little Anya would never let her hear the end of that. Anya’s week-long expedition in the woods was an island of solitude for Mommy and she didn’t like the thought of it not happening any more than Anya.

But for now she had to lock up Leroy, bring Hyrum inside, re-apply his rash medication, get Anya to take a bath before her early evening recital, and get a dish ready for the Hendersons’ potluck later that evening.

She put Leroy away in the guest bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t scratch the door up too badly during his confinement.

Leroy’s grin faded as he realized he would be spending a second night in a row in isolation. No playtime with his favorite little guy.

Enoch was standing next to her as she closed the door in Leroy’s face. He looked up at her. I like dogs.

Carmen nodded again, considering whether her lasagna or chicken salad would be the best choice for the potluck. That’s nice, Enoch.

Enoch was getting taller. His hair had darkened over the years. He’d been bleach-blonde as a young child, but had settled into a sandy shade of poorly-maintained hair. It fell around his face like it had been left there and forgotten. His simple wardrobe of primary-colored t-shirts and blue jeans had remained a constant over the years. Probably purchased by his mother at the Goodwill so she could pocket as much of her welfare money as possible.

Carmen thought about the premium threads she purchased to clothe her children and caught herself having a snooty moment. Nothing wrong with buying clothes at the Goodwill. Carmen tried not to judge, but nothing about Enoch’s mom inspired confidence.

She wondered how old Enoch was now. He had to be in his teens. The years flew right by. She remembered him as a small child strolling through the neighborhood, waving and talking to everyone he passed while she and Connor were still trying to have kids. Life before Anya and Hyrum. Hard to even think such a time existed.

But Enoch had always been there, full of curiosity, full of questions, always interested and enthusiastic about whatever he was seeing or doing.

She went back into the kitchen and got out the groceries, making sure to put her stash of candy bars in the cabinet above the refrigerator, where prying eyes and hands would not seek them out. It was one of her few pleasures. She’d long since given up everything else. She had to at least enjoy some processed GMO-laden junk food now and then. Even if she was starting to put on some weight.

She hoped Connor hadn’t noticed. She’d started keeping the lights off whenever they made love to conceal her widening waistline. He was always so busy and distracted, she wondered if he’d even notice her body’s changes with the lights on. They never made eye contact while they were intimate anymore. And he really didn’t seem enthusiastic about having a third child. He loved Anya and Hyrum as much as she did—she knew that, she believed that—but he was hardly ever around to enjoy them. She wondered if he’d look back one day and wish he’d played with them more.

She rooted through the bags, to see if there was anything else she didn’t want Anya or Hyrum to know she’d purchased. Nope. Alcohol wasn’t an issue, as she’d stopped drinking in secret as soon as she became pregnant the first time. She never regretted that sacrifice for the health of her babies.

She jumped a bit as she came back to reality and saw Enoch sitting in a stool on the other side of the island from her in the middle of the kitchen. He looked up at the place where she’d concealed her guilty-pleasure-food and smiled. I like to eat candy, too. My Not-Mommy sometimes gives me candy.

Weird thing to say, but he was starting to get nosy. Enoch, that candy isn’t for you. So just forget you saw it, okay?

He smiled and nodded.

She almost laughed at herself, since there was no reason to worry that Enoch would reveal her secret vice. She looked at him. He was a cute little guy. He would be a real heartbreaker if it weren’t for his mental issues. He’d always called his foster mother Not-Mommy. It seemed funny for a while, but had simply grown odd over the years.

She put the rest of the groceries away, to give herself one less thing to worry about when she got the kids inside. She didn’t worry about them being outside a few extra minutes—it was a fairly mild early autumn day. They wouldn’t cook in the car.

Enoch spoke again after she’d put the last of the apples in the moisture-controlled produce drawer.

Did you know you have a crown?

What?

He smiled. You have a crown. I think that makes you one of the special ones.

She hadn’t heard that in years. He’d probably been about six when he’d first started coming around the neighborhood, telling people their roles in his fantasy world. His fantasy talk was quite charming. Endearing. He had a way of making you feel special. Regardless of his mental impairment, whatever it was, he had a magical air about him. It was easy to get caught up in his world.

Even now, she involuntarily reached up and touched her thinning black hair, almost expecting to feel a crown on her head. She looked up, caught her distant reflection in the wide living room mirror. She didn’t recognize the faint circles under her eyes, nor the faint creases in her cheeks. How long had those been there? When did she start aging so visibly? She shook it off.

Thank you, Enoch. I’m glad you think I look…regal. She picked up the phone and tried Connor’s office and personal lines one more time each. No luck.

You are welcome. I think you might be a queen. A great ruler.

She smiled and pat him on the head as she walked by him. Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very nice of you to say.

He smiled even brighter in response. Carmen had never heard Enoch use a contraction. It was always You are or I am, never You’re or I’m. An odd quirk in his speech, but sometimes it made him seem more proper. She approached the front door as he said, That means Anya and Hyrum were your little prince and princess.

She nodded again and distractedly muttered, Yes, I suppose so. She walked through the front door and noticed that the left rear door of the jeep was open. She hadn’t realized she’d left it that way. She hoped the kids hadn’t jumped out or wandered off. No, she saw them. Both sitting quietly in the backseat.

She got closer to the car and stopped. There was red on the driveway where the door hung open. She raced to the car, hoping and praying that Hyrum hadn’t slipped and bumped his head.

She swung the door the rest of the way open.

Anya and Hyrum sat, unmoving, with deep gashes in their neck. Their heads slumped to the side.

She heard the gunshot before she saw the spark as the bullet ricocheted off the top of the jeep, inches from her head.

Carmen spun to face Enoch. He still smiled, but this time with a bit of resignation. Sorry, Mrs. Riddle. I do not like guns. But sometimes I need them. Like now.

Carmen ducked behind the open jeep door as the second bullet passed through the window, shattering it above her head. She immediately raced behind the vehicle, using it as a shield between her and Enoch.

No more gunfire came. She peeked up through the rear windshield, past the limp heads of her children, and watched Enoch approach the car. She circled to the left of it as he came around the right-hand side. He made no attempt to shoot through the windows at her.

Sorry that Anya and Hyrum are not talking to you right now. You do not see yet. I want to help.

Enoch, please stop. Put down the gun.

They continued to circle the car, staying on opposite sides. I do not like the gun either, Mrs. Riddle. But you are too far away for me to make you see in any other way.

Make me see?

Carmen shook off his gibberish as she realized she had come around to the front of the vehicle and was as close to her front door as she could get. It was still open. This was her only chance to get away. She hoped Enoch wasn’t a good shot. She turned and bolted for the front door.

A bullet hit the brick to the left of the entrance as she sprinted through. She stopped, turned, then slammed and locked the front door. She frantically pulled out her phone, then stopped before dialing as something Enoch said earlier finally struck her.

"Is he still home?"

She looked up.

"I think he is."

She heard a slam against the front door. And a shout, more exasperated than angry.

Mrs. Riddle!

She put down the phone and hugged the side of the hallway as she approached the stairway next to the front door. She wanted to stay out of the path of any bullets Enoch might send through the door and down the hall.

The front door took another pounding as she reached the base of the stairs. She raced up, making as little noise as possible, to keep Enoch from knowing where she was going.

She made it to the top of the stairs as Enoch slammed a third time, a cracking noise giving her doubts about the door’s structural integrity. She looked down the hallway and found her bedroom door closed. She didn’t remember leaving it that way.

Prescient tears filled her eyes as she moved down the hallway, stepping over one of Hyrum’s toy trucks and kicking aside one of Anya’s stuffed animals.

She wrapped her hand around the doorknob.

"I think he is."

That’s what he’d said. Enoch had already been there that day. Carmen realized she had actually gotten up and taken the kids on her errands before Connor woke up that morning. Enoch might have caught Connor before he went to work…

She turned the knob, but couldn’t bring herself to push the door open. She knew what she’d see. And she couldn’t bear to see a third member of her family dead, so soon after the kids. She took her hand off the door, weighed her options.

Before she got a chance to consider anything, a fourth slam rumbled against the door, followed by a clinking of metal on wood, likely a hinge falling against the floor.

Enoch was downstairs. Armed.

That escape outlet was closed. She opened her bedroom door and stepped inside, pushing the door shut behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a form in the bed, with something red drenching the top half of the covers. She couldn’t look directly at it.

And she couldn’t cry. She held it inside, stepped as gently as possible into her room. She considered hiding under the bed, but realized they had plastic storage boxes under there. She looked at the bathroom. Too exposed. The shower was a glass cage; it didn’t even have a curtain to pull in front of her. She considered the closet. Another trap. The door had no lock on it, so she was completely exposed. She heard Enoch move around downstairs. But he said nothing.

She wondered if she could bolt down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. Then she could get away in the car. Would he be able to shoot her before she got there? Possibly. But…

The keys. The keys were still in her purse. And the purse was on the kitchen counter.

She heard him open a door and she heard a jingling.

Leroy.

No.

He called out, quite amiably, I like dogs, Mrs. Riddle! This one is cute! I can help him see, if you want!

No! she screamed, before