Page 70 of Dark Love

Vex: Keep your eyes open. There are going to be traps.

Payne: Found two already. Took care of them.

I trained him well. The area around the house is clear. You don’t want to accidentally hurt yourself walking around your home.

But just in case, I tread carefully up the porch steps.

The faded tattered curtains are tied back giving a clear view inside. The space is eerily normal, complete with lace doilies on the end tables and dried flowers in the vases.

That garbage lives here.

Why?

There doesn’t seem to be any electricity or monitoring technology visible. I move to the next window that overlooks the dining room.

More doilies and vases full of dried flowers cover the table.

WHAT?

I blink twice, hoping that what I thought I just saw isn’t really there. Three birthing stools surround the table, each with shackles attached.

Death would be too kind…

Payne doesn’t need to see anything in here. My friend has too much gentleness in his soul.

My soul… It was destroyed too long ago.

The kitchen is empty except for shelves of canned goods and old cooking equipment. It tells me nothing except the guy doesn’t cook much.

The last room in the back corner must be the bedroom.

Will it be the same or…

I step back as all feeling drains from my body. The sight in front of me was staged for maximum impact. Yet so neatly done that it won’t leave a single shred of evidence.

Death is too kind for the man who did this.

There’s no one living left in the house.

Me: You done?

Payne: Yeah. No sign of anyone being held in the woods.

That leaves the backyard, because there’s no one alive inside that house.

I walk around to the back of the porch and stare out to the field as Payne jogs over.

“This place is weird. What’s with all the random stepping stones scattered around?”

He hasn’t figured it out yet. We aren’t looking for a building the women are being locked in. “Those are the ones that died. We need to look for holes that haven’t been filled in.”

“Holes?” Payne stares at me as I step off.

The beehive-like grid spreading out from the center of the yard goes on for over an acre. There are hundreds of stones.

“I’ll head left. You go right.” I don’t quite run through the grass, but neither do I tarry. If there’s anyone alive out here, they’ve been days without water or food.

“The stones have names on them. Do you think they’re the real names?”

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