The Interim: A Horror Novel

By Seth Voorhees

In Cooper, South Dakota, the so-called “interim” lasts from October 20 at 10:05 p.m. until November 1 at 5:42 a.m. To Cooper’s residents, this chosen span of time makes sense as 10:05 was the time of the monster’s capture and 5:42 was the time of his death. Now, they are haunted by said creature, but only over the span of the interim.

 

The rest of the year in Cooper is utopia, but it’s paramount that its citizens remain isolated in their homes during the interim in accordance with rules over a hundred years old. All that is about to change. On a hot day in July of 1999, five children—Randy Larkins, Ty Thomas, Vin Dellowinsk, Darlene Ren, and Betty Clammin—form a bound.

 

Living in Cooper, their struggles are something more than those of the average adolescent. Due to social engineering, they’ve lived their lives in line with the threat of a terrible beast. With the interim looming, they band together. The children have had enough of the old ways. It’s time for the young to stand up and face the curse and defeat the monster that haunts their town.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Oct 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480870604

Seth Voorhees

Seth Voorhees is a resident of South Dakota and a Black Hills author. The beauty and mystery of the area have helped inspire his work.

Book preview

THE

INTERIM

A HORROR NOVEL

SETH VOORHEES

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Copyright © 2018 Seth Voorhees.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-7059-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-7060-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018912746

Archway Publishing rev. date: 10/24/2018

Contents

Part I Collecting the Saviors (July 10, 1999)

1 Randy Larkins

2 Ty Thomas

3 Vin Dellowinsk

4 Darlene Ren

5 Betty Clammin

6

7

8

9

10

Part II Sharing Is Caring

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

Part III The Minot Rules(Journal Entries of Richard Minot)

1

2 Richard Minot: Journal Entries

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

Part IV The First Skirmish

1

2

3 October 20, 2000

4

5

6

7

8

9 October 26, 8:10 a.m.

10

11

12

Part V Tricks and Test

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

Part VI The Elements

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8 October 20–3⁰th

9 October 31, 8:05 a.m.

10

11

12

13

Part VII Shadows of the Tauer Circus

1

2

3 October 20, 1:00 a.m.

4 October 23, Afternoon

5

6

7

8

9

10 Grand Event

11 Betty

12 Darlene

13 Randy

14 Vin

15

16

17

18 The Interim of 2004

19 October 31, 2007

About the Author

PART I

COLLECTING THE SAVIORS

(JULY 10, 1999)

1

RANDY LARKINS

Sprinting out of the Sailing Jay comic store, Randy Larkins studied the front cover of the latest volume of his favorite graphic novel series, The Miraculous Adventures of Captain Willint, in his hands. The picture was of the captain in his navy blues standing on the deck of his famous battleship. This month’s adventure was to find a precious ruby on an island inhabited by monsters and cannibals. The artwork was not exceptional, but it did not keep him from rubbing his finger on the edge of the battleship like a blind boy reading braille.

He headed north down Vix Street, catching his reflection through the windows. Twelve years old and without a worry at the moment, he studied his skinny frame and his marine haircut. It was the haircut his mother preferred; she said it made him look dignified, whatever that meant.

The morning was winding down, and the work bustle was at an end. His parents did not worry about him getting into trouble. In fact, no one worried about their children in Copper. Randy waved at Mrs. Bowls, who ran the flower shop. She wore an apron covered with dead petals.

Stopping at the corner, he waited until the pedestrian signal flashed go. To his right was the Antelope Theater. He read the show times. Randy loved the movies but had few friends to tag along. He enjoyed the action flicks as well a good scary feature, but his parents did not approve of those. Going to give you nightmares, Randy. I don’t need to be cleaning the sheets, his mother said. She always brought the conversations to bed-wetting, although he had not done such a thing in years.

He wanted to scream at her, What the hell can I see that doesn’t scare the shit out of me in October?

He continued down the street, with houses on the right side of the street and businesses on the left. He passed by a small bookstore, some general stores, and a cheap flea market. There was a commotion on the crowded sidewalk, but he glided along in his cargo shorts, weaving and adjusting to avoid the passersby. He smelled the aroma of burgers at the Charcoal Bar and Grill, the best burgers in town. But he could not go in without an adult.

Fox Park was his destination. The location was divided into several sections. A great baseball diamond with an old soccer field, which was now grass and dandelions, was on the west side. Cutting through that field led to an extensive gravel pit where there was a jungle gym, a rope obstacle course, and several benches for parents to sit on. Randy headed to the east side of the baseball fields. There, a smaller park resided with a decent field, a basketball court, and several acres of open ground. There were several benches, areas shaded by cottonwood trees, and several bike paths that curved through like a serpent.

He cut through alleys, crossed over Thirty-second Street, and then arrived at the parking lot with the wood sign that said Fox Park. The parking lot was empty, and the park seemed quiet. He moved over to his bench, the center one in the middle of a patch of unmowed grassland. The wind was soft and the heat was not yet atrocious. He rested, opened his graphic novel, and began to read.

2

TY THOMAS

Ty meandered down Fox Creek, a creek two or three feet wide that flowed steady and swift. In certain points, it widened enough to cast a fishing line. He enjoyed the water; its flow brought a calm to his soul. He’d learned this enjoyment from his father, one of the few practical pieces of advice obtained from the man.

Ty was still short, though he was starting to put on muscle. He was still an adolescent boy with a young face.

Ty had few friends with whom he could communicate his thoughts, a state of life that most of the children in Copper experienced. The majority of parents did not encourage the growth of friendship or its development over the years. How many funerals did one wish for one’s child to experience? Friendship was urged to wait until one left Copper after high school.

Ty strolled over the rough banks, listening to the flow and crash of water on rocks, causing it to fork into different angles. The trout swam up and down with the current, the sun reflecting on their rainbow sides. The dandelions, wildflowers, and long grass covered the edges, with moss stretching itself from hanging branches that in a few more inches could touch the surface of the water. He heard the birds chirping, and he admitted to hating it.

He wondered, What the hell do you have sing about on this day?

He had never heard of depression, and in later years he wouldn’t think he suffered from it. But isolation and feelings of inferiority nagged on him, staying on his back and shoulders, pointing out his life choices in a way that fed his despair instead of producing happiness. Ty believed that all children felt this way, and it was the same with many adults in the world of Copper.

Ty could remember his mother attempting to soothe him at times, explaining that soon it would be better, and he could become anything he wanted in this world. All he needed was to get through these years in Copper, and then his trudging through the interim would not be in vain; the rewards came later. There were times he still believed that, and yet he hated that answer. He did not understand why he needed to suffer for years in an emotional hell so he could earn the rewards of a future full of cheer.

On the grass he moved, winding with its curves, allowing himself to flow like the current guiding him through the town. He ignored the adults who drove or walked near him. He kept himself in his own world, not allowing anyone to enter. The pain of childhood awkwardness average children faced added to the mix of abnormal that Copper drove into their spirits, swimming and drowning in a combination of fright and confusion.

The creek guided him under a bridge, one of six that the creek flowed underneath. The banks of the creek underneath were lined with broad, flat rocks and chicken wire in places as cover to keep the rocks from rolling and to keep kids from taking them. Ty noticed sleeping bags nearby, indicating that a homeless man or someone was resting. But there was no stranger, just Ty walking under the shadow of the warm day. He walked on the rocks and continued to the other side, his flesh enjoying the quick break from the heat.

He continued to walk, watching the roads and the citizens who strolled on bike paths. He worried a lot about their perception of him. His mother’s words, Most people are self-centered and don’t notice you, so don’t worry, did not help.

This caused a lot of emotion in him, and as he walked down Ivory Street, he thought about his mother. The houses he passed were modern, and their garden beds were planted with a mix of shimmering flora, which brought him only a little warmth.

He had no friends. He did not even have an enemy. Kids rarely picked on or bullied each other in Copper because in the first few years of the first interim, the night called the purification began. Historically, the town had many kidnappings, and acts of revenge occurred at an alarming rate. Not so much in the last few decades, his father said. His father explained to Ty that in the early days of the interim, those who were hated or distrusted would get kidnapped by their victims or people who had a grudge, and they were tied up and left outside for the beast to finish them off. The result was a far more polite society. But there still were some bullies. After all, a twelve-year-old was not going to kidnap an older kid. But he did not have too many issues. It was a life of boredom with no excitement except during the last twelve days of October, which were spent in terror.

The creek curved away, and he watched from the streets and then crossed the train tracks. He observed the change of weeds and flowers as it meandered through, thinning out and then expanding in size. The water looked tempting to dive into because he felt sweaty and tired. Ty, near the creek edge, now stood on the south side of Fox Park. While moving along into a wild spot, he saw the rope obstacle course, a giant tower that looked like an enormous spiderweb. He threw rocks into the water and debated going to the park. On the other side, Randy Larkins was reading a book.

3

VIN DELLOWINSK

July 10, 1999, was a warm and clear day. Vin’s father was on a ladder applying a fresh coat of paint to the house, and his mother was in the back taking care of the lower windows. He watched his father brave the height, taking care of the edges beside the white trim.

Dad, I’m going to the park to play ball! He’d asked to help earlier, but his father had told him to enjoy the day.

All right, Vin. Be safe.

The word safe made him chuckle. He had no reason to worry. He hit the ball he had in his hand and started his walk to Vikers Park. They lived nearby; from their guest bedroom on the second floor, one could see the soccer field.

Vin moved down the street. Traffic was light, and he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Mardy walking her two German shepherds. From across the street, she waved at him, and he waved back to appear polite.

Vin dropped the ball at times, keeping it in rhythm with his pace. Once he was a few blocks down, underbrush of cedar and maple trees blocked the view. It was the quickest shortcut, and so he stomped and ducked his head to keep the limbs from scratching his face. Once out, he walked into the open park. To his left was the basketball court.

Behind there was the pond and the bench where Randy Larkins was reading his comic. Vin did not know that Ty Thomas was edging his way down Fox Creek. He was unaware that in a few minutes, Darlene Ren was going to be kicking a table into her mother’s stomach.

Once on the court, he began. Vin wished to play the sport until he graduated high school. One shot followed by another, and in between shots he sprinted and juked (ankle breakers was what he called them). At times he practiced shots and three-pointers. He continued moving around invisible opponents. The exercise allowed his memories to fade.

He’d discovered basketball three years ago, using it to escape the interim and the memory of the furnace, among other memories. Vin had told his father when he’d sprinted up the stairs. He never spoke about it again. His parents allowed him to stay out of the basement until he was ready to go back down.

Vin shot and missed, and then he sprinted to the ball, ready to catch and rebound. He moved at a steady pace. The sweat dripped from them.

Vin contemplated the coming year; hoping sports would allow him some friends. His parents were positive and believed in the importance of friendship, but they still maintained a caution. After all, there were always some who died during the interim, just as there was always that moron who drove too fast during the first snowfall. They wished for him to go through his childhood with minimal scars, but there a chance he could develop a friendship that ended with a burial.

He sprinted to the ball once more, running from one hoop to the other ands pretending he was in the championships he watched on TV. Basketball was his love; there were no others. He was able to work out the pain, sprint through the memories, and sweat out the nightmares. He charged and then stopped, shooting harder. The ball hit the rim and bounced high, taking an odd curve behind him. He knew it would do so before it hit, and when he turned and saw her, walking with her head down, he screamed for her to duck. He watched as the ball came down as if the world stood still. He caught his first glimpse of Darlene Ren, and he enjoyed it. Understanding feelings, yet not aware of puberty or its side effects, he knew he liked her. And when the ball smacked her in the face, he felt a sudden panic.

4

DARLENE REN

Her mind replayed the resentful screaming and insults. The fight had started with Darlene coming down the stairs.

Her mother was in another hangover mood and screamed, Why didn’t you do the dishes, Darlene? Damn it! These were first words her mother spoke that morning.

Darlene screamed back, Why do I have to do all the dishes? You have hands. Maybe if they were not holding a bottle all the time, you could do them!

Carol’s face tinted three shades of red, and she ran over to her daughter.

Darlene sprinted, hearing the front door close with an explosive sound. Darlene recalled that look, the way her mother’s cheeks grew red, the way her eyes had a maddening intent. She had never seen her mother come after her and was startled at first. The tears flowed hard, and she bit her lip. She could not hear her mother screaming from behind, Get your ass back in here, girl!

Darlene ignored her mother and continued to run with no destination. She needed to get out of the house and have a moment away from the insanity. Darlene even debated whether she would return.

Fly, Darlene. She wouldn’t miss you anyway.

Darlene replayed the last moment—her mother sprinting toward her with a hand in the air and screaming, What did you say to me, you little bitch? Then the swing, but her hangover caused her to be loose in the legs, and she stumbled a bit. The slap did not hit its full mark. Darlene ducked enough to get only the tips of the fingers.

Darlene ran into the kitchen next. Upon turning around, she could see her mother trying to catch up, but her head still hurt, and her wobbling body made her move like a newborn elephant.

You don’t run from me, God damn it! You do the dishes as I asked you, you spoiled little—

Darlene shoved the table, sliding it to block her mother’s path. Carol fell to the floor, the edge of the table connecting to her side. The jab caught her off guard, and she could not finish the sentence. Her elbows collided with the hard tile, sending pain through her arms.

Spoiled, you fucking drunk? I hate this house, and I fucking hate you. I wish you would have died instead of Dad! Darlene kicked the table this time, sending it over Carol and buying herself a few seconds. She then sprinted, grabbing her shoes by the door; there was no time to put them on. Even in socks, Darlene was faster than her mother. She ran toward the front door. She heard the sound of the table as her mother moved it.

Darlene held the sneakers tight. She continued down the sidewalk, ignoring the pedestrians who stood by and stared. She looked back; her mother was no longer in pursuit. She continued down Fifteenth Street. The neighborhood was kept clean, the lawns were freshly cut, and those stupid ceramic animals in several yards eyeballed her.

Darlene continued for several blocks until the street crossed Avein Junction. Turning left, she moved a block until reaching the parking lot of Go Gas station. After sitting on the curb, she put on her shoes; she had enough time now. Her mother was not chasing, and Darlene figured she wouldn’t. Her mother would sit on the couch or break a few things in anger.

Stupid