Shadows Rise
5
Lightning rumbled across the sky in Mannington and clouds crept across the countryside as if a thousand spirits had risen from the grave and were walking the Earth. There was no wind, but the trees around the Timms house were swaying violently.
Upstairs in the doll room, drafts made the cobwebs hanging from the furniture float as they had done for decades. When the first spider had walked through the room and onto a doll, the Pope manufacturing company had worked on the outskirts of Mannington and made arms, legs, bodies and whole figures of men and women for promotional purposes. Most of them were low grade plastic, but some were made of wood with movable joints.
On one stormy day a nice piece of wood took the shape of a female display figure and her nails were painted, two glass eyes implanted and her hair set into her head. She was called Monique, and among the Monique line, she was one of many who graced the windows of shops with clothing and shoes.
She ultimately was replaced by a lighter model and wound up in the trash, from which she was fished by a doll maker who repainted her and advertised antiques with her before she fell down and lost her right eye. At that point she wound up a collectible in the Timms house because a woman with a big black hole where her broken glass right eye used to be was unnerving and did not sell antiques.
Monique stood for years in a long dress surrounded by little girl dolls. Her only friend had been Vickie Timms and without her she was just…a piece…of wood.
Then her wooden ears echoed with the sounds of pain and wails from down stairs.
Weeks before, a fat man with a bald head and trashy facial fuzz named Jonas and an old bearded man named Bob had been released from prison after completing an impressive biography of violent crime.
They had moved to Mannington to lay low for a bit and had kidnapped a young woman they had chained in the bedroom. Her skirt and high heels had proved a bit too much for them.
Jonas had done a little minor work for Vickie Timms while they made plans to do a “job” and get out of town, and the same day a local fellow had told them they could kidnap younger ones and he could get money for them shipping them out of town, Jonas read the obituary in the paper, and with a huge grin, he had loaded up Edward and the girl, Elisabeth, and rolled the truck toward the house to see what they might find.
The truck was parked in front of the Timms house as the two men grinned, with Elisabeth in the back of the van, tied up.
“So waddya think? Bob asked.
“I never saw an old bag who didn’t have somethin’ hid someplace.”
Jonas and Bob got out of the car and went to the back. They opened it and Jonas smiled. “We gone have us some fun, and pick up some toys while we’re here.”
They have carried and half drug Elisabeth to the house and found the door open. They did not see the trees swaying in the still of the night, nor the dark shadow that began creeping toward the house. A fog came out from the trees, black and curling like a storm and it crawled toward the Timm house as the two thieves went in.
They threw Elisabeth down on the living room couch, and began to look around at the furnishings in the house, raiding through drawers and laughing to themselves.
The black cloud climbed the back wall of the house and crept into the doll room, and after a lifetime of standing silent and motionless, Monique suddenly twitched, then stood erect and her left eye turned with her head toward the door.
Bob and Jonas were down stairs looking through the old desk when Monique walked out of the doll room, flanked by the little four foot wind up doll and the little doll went into Vickie’s bedroom and pulled the old revolver. Monique went up to a wall display with an old cavalry saber and her right hand smashed the glass and took down the saber.
Bob and Jonas heard the glass break and they looked at each other. Jonas glanced at Elizabeth who sat dazed from her weeks of torture and he turned to Bob. “The bitch is still on the couch. But sumbuddy is in this dump with us.”
Jonas began to stomp up the stairs and he suddenly looked up and froze. A wooden woman with cracked paint and a big black hole where her right eye had been was stepping slowly down the hall toward the top of the stairs. Jonas felt fear grip him. “What the hell? That bitch is….wood!”
Jonas took a few more steps, thinking it had to be a mechanized woman and as he got close to the stop, Monique turned and looked at him. She stood, silent, her painted mouth cracked and motionless, but her one eye looking at Jonas. He frowned.
“Bullshit.” He said. “Ain’t no such thing as a wooden woman walkin.”
Jonas suddenly saw a cloud of black haze crawling along the floor and he stared at it.
Monique suddenly lashed out at Jonas with the saber and the blade split through him from the right hip to the left shoulder. Jonas let out a roaring scream as blood sprayed the hall and Monique’s dress. His body began to fall apart and he tumbled, spilling gut on the stairway and came to rest, twitching and gurgling as Bob stood and stared in horror.
Before Bob could move, the little doll appeared by Monique and raised the pistol. Bob saw the fog curling around her, and he turned to run as the gun fired. The ball smashed into his head, and Bob began to stagger and stumble, then the gun fired again, the bullet smashing through his neck.
Elizabeth screamed and stood up, her hands still tied, and watched one final shot smash Bob in the head again. A chunk of his skull flew out and his eyes got wide as he fell to the floor.
Monique and the little doll stood and looked at her without moving and Elisabeth tore and flexed till she freed her hands, and she turned and ran for the door.
Outside, Elisabeth ran toward the old truck and found the keys in it. She started the engine and shakily turned it around and drove to town.
It was three in the morning when the ragged, torn form of Elisabeth told her story of kidnapping, abuse and being drug to the Timm house where a set of animated dolls butchered her kidnappers.
The sun was just making the sky turn dark blue when a tall thin black man with a suit and a hat, most of his teeth missing, stepped out of a Lincoln and regarded the Timm house. Clyde drove up also and got out, smiling and walked up to him. “I’m sheriff Clyde…”
“I know who the fuck ya are.” The black man said. “Ed and Eric’s personal go getter in a sherf suit. I’m Dee Wayne, and I’m taking charge of this shit. Now let’s see what we got.”
Dee walked toward the house and pushed the door open. He regarded Bob in a pool of blood with his brain on the floor, and the guts that once were Jonas on the stairs.
“This is a crime scene. Sherf Clyde, tape it off, nobody come in or out ‘sept the lab techs.”
Dee Wayne looked over the house for a while, and then ran into Clyde examining the body of Bob.
“Make damn sure you don’t fuck up the shoe prints on the floor, man. We got an open door so nobody had to force themselves into the place, and they needed some force to drive that sword through that fat boy.”
Dee Wayne walked up to one of the other officers. “Find out who is in charge of this house. These boys had rap sheets long enough to wipe your ass with. They ain't no loss. Old lady Timm is dead so we gotta find out who to deal with.”
The officers moved to obey and Clyde stood and looked at the stairs.
“That broad said that the two dummies up there did it. Must be a ghost story.”
Dee Wayne paused then replied. “Given what I seen so far we need to investigate the supernatural and it’s connections to this place.”
Clyde laughed. “Are you serious?’
“do I look like I’m about to do standup to you?” Dee snapped. “Think about it. Who’s gonna be in a house where a lonely old lady died and take a saber and kill one guy then shoot another and throw two dummies in the hall to cover it up? In this town, they gonna blow em away with a shotgun or run. There is no signs of vagrancy and you got blood all over the dummies and no shoe prints or finger prints. I seen shit go down before, so we’re gonna look at the supernatural too.”
Clyde just stared.
Dee Wayne said “The people in this town ain’t that smart, otherwise they wouldn't be in Ed Lairre’s church each week.”
As he spoke, a few miles away, Jerry was in Ed’s office and Ed handed him a sheet of paper. “Sign this before I send you to a department.”
Jerry read the paper. “Some of this, like working seven days a week and no holidays off is not even legal.”
Ed just looked at him. “You want to work you sign that.”
Jerry scrawled his signature on the paper and glared at Ed who casually tossed it in a drawer.
“We need help in cutting. You wear the arm shields or you get fired, no warnings. You get steel toed boots and cover alls. No unnatural hair colors, long hair on men and if you got a dick don’t use the girl’s room. You got all that?”
“I don’t have boots or cover alls, the girl didn’t mention that the other day.”
“Go get em and go to cutting tomorrow at six. After that you’ll probably go to recon for one other shift.”
Ed went back to his computer and Jerry walked out of the office miserable. As he walked down the hall he noticed a cork board with a picture of Ed, and two other pictures of him, one with the words FULL TIME BULLY and WORLD’S BIGGEST ASSHOLE on them. He then saw Genny at a desk and she smiled sadly.
“Unhappy employees?” Jerry asked. She shook her head. “Nope. Angry ones who plastered them on his door and he posted them himself thinking it was funny.”
“Oh shiiiiit.” Jerry lamented. This could not end well.
Jerry left the factory and bought his supplies, then decided to drive to his house and at least enjoy that, and to his horror he found it taped off, police cars everywhere and a skeletal black man coming up to talk to him. As Jerry got out, the black man nodded. “Ok, that look tells me you’re Jerry Stroh, the unlucky boyo who just killed off the lien and took over this house. You been in town two or three days and aren’t used to seeing bodies come out of your house without walking.”
“Who are…”
“I’m Dee Wayne, assigned to find out why two scum bag mother fuckers got hacked and shot in your house. My boys had no trouble finding out who you were. You’ll need to clean this place up when we’re done, alotta bleach and Formula 409 with a mop.”
“Can I go in?”
“We gotta finish first. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you in. We gotta bag and tag shit and can’t have you trackin’ it up. Filthy kidnapping, robbing bitches got their rights too you know, even if they got killed like they deserved.”
Jerry stared. Dee Wayne turned around and added. “Oh yeah, this young chick said a pair of wooden dummies did it. That means you might have a haunted house. Hope you ain't afraida no ghosts.”
His eyes wide, Jerry stood and stared at the house. Talk about a lousy day.
Jerry drove home and unpacked his work materials. He sat on his couch in his travel trailer and thought about his music and how he needed a break so bad.
Genny came driving up in her little car at last and Jerry came out to greet her. She smiled as she got out.
“I love this little motorized house slipper but getting in and out is a procedure.”
Jerry joined her in her motor home and they sat and talked happily as they petted Twinkie, who bounced around like an animated toy.
After while, Jerry went to check his mail and saw Imma Byche outside her house glaring at him as he passed.
“God hates homosexuals.” She said. Jerry stopped. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not even gay and if I was how is it your business?”
Imma laughed. That wanna be vampire and you seem pretty tight already. It’s obvious.”
Jerry glared. “You judgmental bitch, Genny is a woman.”
Imma laughed again, like an evil old granny. “Better raise his-her skirt and make sure before you try to have that big one night fling.”
Jerry boiled inside. “Fuck you, you cow. I wonder what people would find if they took the roof off your MOBILE HOME and looked for all your filthy secrets. Hmm? Are you a saint able to judge others based on appearance?”
Imma mockingly smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Go live your little life before you have to be in hell where it’s hot.”
Jerry walked closer to her. “Think about this, you ugly broad with a name like bitch, how much of a utopia do you think your heaven would be if it was filled with people like YOU?!”
Major Byche was standing on his porch and he calmly said “nothing for you to worry about, man lover.”
Jerry stood still. “Come call me that to my face, Major bitch. Do you even KNOW Genny.?”
Major walked away with an arrogant grin and Imma joined him.
Jerry walked into the office and got his mail. The manager was chuckling. “So you decide to live in Mannington permanently yet after meeting everybody?”
Looking through his mail, Jerry replied “I hate this place already. Why does everyone keep being so mean to Genny?”
The manager smiled. “She has a really mannish face, so they think she is a dude in a dress. She’s really outgoing and caring, but they think she eats children. Me? I don’t give two shits what anybody does as long as they don’t mess with me or any kids.”
Jerry went back to his trailer and as he walked in his phone rang. He answered it, hoping it was a scammer he could scam back.
“This is Mike at MusikTube. Is this Jerry Stroh who wrote Rock This Joint?”
“Yeah.”
“Ok, I got another act on the channel, pretty successful, called The Mechanics and they are bad ass!”
“I know, I’ve heard them.”
“Well the band heard your song and want to rock it up and record it.”
Jerry closed his eyes and hoped with everything in him this man was for real.