“Wow,” Ricky said.
“Yeah. Anyway, she promised me that they would not only tear it down, but they would first have the fire department over to burn it down for practice. She lived up to her word. I watched from down the street as they burned it, bulldozed it, and then hauled the ashes away. She even had a company in to dig down and replace the topsoil from where the house had stood. In the end, you wouldn’t have known that it had ever been there.”
“You think it worked?”
“I don’t know,” Amber said. “After my parents died, I never experienced anything there. I’m not sure if the demon was dead or just playing possum. But I walked by the property when everything was done and the new house was built. I can say for certain that I didn’t feel anything. Coming home used to make my skin tighten up all over, and I didn’t feel any of that. The woman wrote me a letter some years ago, telling me how happy they had been there, but they were planning on selling the house. Everything worked out fine for them.”
“Good,” Ricky said.
“Yeah.”
Amber took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like she had just shed a burden.
“I like to think that it was the house itself and that burning it was the last nail in the coffin.”
“It had to have been, right? You said that things were still flying around in the house even after the car crash. So it definitely wasn’t connected to your mother.”
“Ricky,” Amber said. “What if it was me?”
Ricky blinked at the road, trying to make sense of what she had just said.
“You?”
“Think about it. It could have easily been me all along.”
“No. It would still be with you.”
“Unless it’s playing possum. Unless it’s the thing that killed Cousin Evelyn. Unless it’s what drew those monsters to me not once, but twice. Think about all the terrible things that have happened around me. You don’t think that it’s a little coincidental that all these things are happening around me?”
“No, Amber. That’s, like, survivor’s guilt or something talking. You took care of it when you had to. The other things are just… I mean, coincidence is the right word. John got infected and you solved that issue. Riley got infected and brought that back to you, but you took care of yourself that time as well. As for your cousin, I’m sorry, but old people die. It’s a part of life.”
“Yeah,” Amber said, sighing. “I guess.”
“Don’t make things worse by second-guessing yourself,” Ricky said.
“How could I possibly make things worse?” Amber said, laughing.
Eight: Alan
Alan and Bob were hunched over the snowblower when Ricky’s car pulled up.
“That’s my ride,” Alan said. “I’ll keep poking at this and see if I can figure out the problem.”
“You sure you don’t mind?” Bob asked.
“Of course not. I love these old things.”
“Cool. Thanks again,” Bob said.
Ricky saw that Bob was getting into his truck. He pulled off the side of the driveway so Bob could get by.
Alan waved at Ricky and then held up a finger to ask for a minute. He ran inside to use the bathroom and grab his wallet before he came back out. By then, Ricky had wandered over to the snowblower and was looking at it.
“Won’t stay running,” Alan said. “Starved for gas in the carb.”
“It’s the cutoff valve at the bottom of the gas tank,” Ricky said. He reached out and turned the thumbscrew. “You feel how it feels all gummy when you turn it? There’s an o-ring in there that wears out and gets pulled into the channel where the gas is supposed…”
“Hey,” Alan said. “Spoilers! I like to figure these things out. Just fixing them is ten-percent of the fun. Figuring out the problem is the other ninety.”
“Sorry,” Ricky said, shrugging. “My father has one just like it and he had the same problem.”
“Next time, keep it to yourself.”
Ricky returned Alan’s smile. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this one has a completely different issue. Could be the fuel filter, right?”
“Come on, Ricky! I just told you to keep your diagnosis to yourself.”
“Sorry. Ready to go?”
“Yes.”
Alan climbed into the passenger’s seat and was greeted with a wet nose in his ear.
“Tucker, down!”
“It’s okay,” Alan said, laughing. After buckling in, he reached back and pet the dog. “So, what do we know about this guy?”
Ricky turned the vehicle and then headed out towards the road.
“A couple people say he’s not crazy—people I trust—but most everyone else thinks he’s a little off his rocker. Supposedly, he lived through an encounter with the same things that attacked us in the hotel. He’s the only other living person I’ve found who might have information.”
They took a left and then a right at the end of the road, crossing the stream on a concrete bridge.
“I have significant déjà vu right now,” Alan said.
“Oh yeah?”
“That guy Bob who was in my driveway—he and I went on a similar mission years ago to talk to one of the Prescott brothers about… you know.”
“And?”
“Didn’t go so well. He committed suicide and all we found out was that we should have listened a lot closer to him.”
“Well I plan to listen very close today, so no problem there,” Ricky said.
Alan nodded.
“What else do you know about him?”
“His name is Romeo Libby and he’s pretty much a shut-in. He’s retired and fairly self-sufficient. He lives alone now, but he used to be a part of a small community that was established in the seventies. Some of them had local native ancestry and some were from away, but they were all looking for a way to return to the land. Then, every except Romeo disappeared. He showed up at the hospital one morning, ranting about vampires. The local sheriff’s office went to check it out and everyone was gone. No
