Brood XIX

BROOD XIX

A Novella

Michael McBride

Copyright © 2011 Michael McBride

Also by Michael McBride

NOVELS

Bloodletting

Burial Ground

Innocents Lost

Predatory Instinct

Vector Borne

NOVELLAS

Blindspot

Remains (from The Mad & The Macabre, with Jeff Strand)

The Calm Before the Swarm

Xibalba

ZERO

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BROOD XIX

Bonus Material

The Generosity of Strangers

A Short Story

Excerpt from BURIAL GROUND

Excerpt from BLOODLETTING

Excerpt from INNOCENTS LOST

Excerpt from PREDATORY INSTINCT

For Gene, Gord, and Tom...my cohorts in crime

Special Thanks to Gene O'Neill, Gord Rollo, Tom Moran, Jeff Strand, Brian Keene, my family, and all of my loyal readers, without whom none of this would be possible.

BROOD XIX

If you take everything that I love

And you leave me here,

Leave me alive...

If you take everything that I love

And I'm standing here

Waiting to die...

I hear you call

And I promise to you

One day, some day

The pain will go

---Overkill, 'Promises'

Jefferson, Texas

Two Years Ago

There were moments made for memory, when the universe aligned just right and granted the briefest glimpse into the benevolent heart it hid so well under the guise of oppression and pain. The perfect moment when one simply stopped doing whatever had seemed so important only seconds earlier in order to take the kind of mental snapshot that would rise unbidden through the years, bringing with it the wistful smile we save only for ourselves.

For Vanessa Snow, this was such a moment.

Time both stood still and raced past. The dishes in the sink vanished beneath the rising swell of bubbles while the faucet continued to run. In her hands, the glasses and plates washed themselves. The window in front of her afforded a view into another world entirely, where the early afternoon sunlight slanted through the shifting, Spanish moss-bearded branches of the cypress trees in golden columns so pure they could have been individual rays sent years ago from hundreds of thousands of miles away with this one occasion in mind. They shined like celestial spotlights onto the young girl kneeling at the edge of the yard where grass gave way to the morass of the Big Cypress Bayou and Caddo Lake beyond. The silky black locks that flowed over her shoulders shimmered in stark contrast to her filthy clothes. She was covered in mud; up her arms, down her legs, smears on her cheeks. Her companion, who was undoubtedly responsible for the mess, pranced around her, paws thick with brown sludge, his