The neighbors stepped out of their houses, bathrobes and pajamas being prevalent, and beheld the horror.
“Good God,” a man, Herald, surveyed the scene, his wife hiding her face. The cul-de-sac has covered in blood.
“Who could have done this?” asked another, grimacing at the smell. It was drying, but still wet, still shining in the morning’s sun.
A new figure stepped out, picking up his paper, paying little attention to the others.
“Marcus, do you know anything about this?” asked Herald, from across the street.
“Why would I?”
“Just asking.”
“Better count heads,” he said, walking back to his home.
“Why’s that?”
He spoke over his shoulder, “The blood had to have come from somewhere.”
Herald’s wife looked up at her husband, no longer comforted by the darkness of her closed eyelids.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a prank by some punk kids, no one’s hurt.”
She starred at the blood, her eyes distant.
“Someone should clean it, it will stain.”
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
Herald guided his wife back into the house, others were doing the same; he glanced back once more at the blood and smiled.
* * *
“Good God,” a man, Herald, surveyed the scene, his wife hiding her face. The cul-de-sac has covered in blood.
“Who could have done this?” asked another, grimacing at the smell. It was drying, but still wet, still shining in the morning’s sun.
A new figure stepped out, picking up his paper, paying little attention to the others.
“Marcus, do you know anything about this?” asked Herald, from across the street.
“Why would I?”
“Just asking.”
“Better count heads,” he said, walking back to his home.
“Why’s that?”
He spoke over his shoulder, “The blood had to have come from somewhere.”
Herald’s wife looked up at her husband, no longer comforted by the darkness of her closed eyelids.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a prank by some punk kids, no one’s hurt.”
She starred at the blood, her eyes distant.
“Someone should clean it, it will stain.”
“Come on, let’s go inside.”
Herald guided his wife back into the house, others were doing the same; he glanced back once more at the blood and smiled.
* * *
“Sweetie,” called Amanda, Herald’s wife, walking into his office, “Have you seen Mittens? Her bowl is still full from last night.”
Herald looked up from his computer, “No, sorry baby, I haven’t seen her all day.”
Amanda looked puzzled.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s just out wondering around the neighborhood, cats do that.”
“But Mittens never—“
“Look, I’m sure she’s fine, okay? I’ve got to get this chapter down before tonight.”
“Okay,” she wasn’t happy with the answer, but had nothing else to take.
She left the room.
Herald continued typing, fingers flying fast across the keyboard.
The phone rang.
“Honey, will you get that!” shouted Herald into the next room.
The phone next to him stopped ringing, the small red light on the receiver glowed.
Amanda’s conversation was faintly heard. He did not stop typing, but appeared to be listening.
“Oh, yours too? What’s about the Clarks? They’re all missing? Every one of them?”
Herald took his cue, clicking the laptop shut he exited out the back door, calling behind him, “I’ll be back later to bake the pies!”
“Herald, wait!” Amanda put the receiver to her shoulder, but he was already gone.
She stopped. This behavior was so strange for him.
The voice on the phone squawked unintelligibly, she put the speaker back to her ear, “What? Oh, yes, yes I’m sorry. I just don’t know what happened to all the cats.”
* * *
Herald set his computer down in the front seat of the car. The keys were not in the ignition. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Checking over his shoulder he walked to the back of the house and opened the basement door.
* * *
Amanda was still on the phone, “No, Herald just left, but I’ll be sure to ask him when he gets back.” She noticed his car keys still on the desk. “Listen, I have to go, I’ll call you if I find out anything.”
She hung up the phone and grabbed the keys. Looking out the back window she saw the basement door close.
What is he doing there?
Amanda walked out the back door, nearly frightened, feeling stupid for allowing fear to attack her in her own backyard; but still the nagging emotion stalked her.
Creeping back around the house, she opened the heavy shed door a crack; a horrible smell befell her. She put a hand over her mouth, coughing. What is that?
Grunting, she managed to open the door further, dragging the edge across the concrete. She slipped in, and started down the dark stairway. There was a light in the inner room.
“Herald?” she called. The sticky, hot air carried no sound in answer.
She stepped down, no guard rail to hold on to, each step absorbing the sound of her footfall, masking her presence with hard concrete.
The smell worsened.
She tried to call again, but the smell choked her, slaying her voice.
She descended the last step, the inner room to the left. She looked in and nearly vomited. The cats where everywhere, their dead bodies drained of all blood; skins hung stretched on the walls.
Herald stood at a desk, a gas mask over his face and dead cat in his hands: Mittens.
She tasted bile in her mouth, burning her throat.
He turned around, removing the mask. “Help me Amanda, help me rid the world of these horrid things.”
She couldn’t speak.
"Help me send them to Topheth where they belong!”
His eyes were crazed, his voice quaked with rage.
“Herald, I—“
“Try it. I think you’ll find it most enjoyable.”
A cat nuzzled against my leg. Maybe I would like it. I grabbed a knife.
