The Boy From Detroit

Chapter Nineteen

Kareem and Jasmine climbed out of the car after they parked it under the big sycamore tree that Jasmine mentioned and walked up to the chain-link fence where they came across the sign that said: No Entry.

"Why does it say No Entry?" Kareem asked.

"Wild animals. Bears and hyenas. But mostly because hunters didn't want outsiders to touch this plot of land." She pointed at the hole in the fence behind a bush where it had been warped out of shape. "Shall we?"

"But you two still went into the woods?"

Jasmine hemmed it up for him. "My dad's a hunter. And the cabin was built by him and his hunting buddies."

"Got it."

Kareem skulked under the fence on elbows and knees, still, its ends tugged on my shirt. He then stood up and helped Jasmine the same way.

* * *

They were about half a mile into the forest. The surrounding was clearly uninhabited and tranquil. The air was wet. Sumac bushes brushed their ankles. There was a rutted road, but Jasmine assured the path they were on was the closest way to the shed. Fuzzy cotton seeds hung everywhere.

Jasmine pointed to the biggest one in a line of rocks head-high. "We smoked our first joint there."

"How far?" Kareem asked.

"Far."

About three-hundred yards later, in the distance to the left through the trees, Kareem saw a fortress-like structure up on a hill. He couldn't exactly say if it was deserted, but no one sure as hell had scraped the moss off the walls.

"What's that?" he asked.

"That is the House of Solace."

"The House of Solace?"

She nodded. "A twisted name for such a horrible place."

"Why do you say that?"

"There are a lot of folktales and conspiracy theories tied to it. A lot of sick things have happened there."

"What sort of things?"

"Torture, prison, and such."

"Torturing who?"

Jasmine looked at Kareem. "You know..."

Kareem looked at her. "What?"

"Torture slaves."

Kareem said nothing.

"It was a long time ago. But hunters claim they can still hear the screams at night. No one really goes in there. They say it's haunted. And for good reason. I mean, look at that old dump."

Kareem said nothing.

"Come on. We're closing in."

Ten minutes later, Kareem spotted a wooden shed beyond the trees.

"Is that it?" he asked.

"That's it. They used to strip and split animals in there and hang 'em on hooks, blood crusted on the dirt beneath our feet. Smelled awful when we first started frequenting it. But we had no choice. We grew fond of it with time. Smelled the best during cold, winter nights."

"You've come all the way here at night?"

"Plenty of times. Why?"

"Weren't you scared of the bears and the hyenas?"

"Nope. But you had to watch out for swingers."

"Swingers?"

"Hunters are big swingers. Another little fun fact for ya. Something about hunting turns them on. Being in touch with primal instincts and whatnot, hunting, food, sex. The reason you have to be careful is that you might run into someone you know. And junkies love to have orgies in there. I remember one time we watched six hobos getting it on. It was painful. For us."

Kareem said nothing.

Jasmine smiled. "I know it sounds awful. But there was a time we didn't have anything else to do."

"Hopefully, we'll be seeing none of that today."

"Don't worry. Those days are far gone, now that a killer is roaming this town. It's black boys now, who knows what's next. No offense, obviously."

"None taken."

They got within ten feet of the shed.

"Mackenzie?" Kareem called.

"Mackzy, are you in there?" Jasmine called afterward.

Solemn silence answered them.

There was one grimy sash window on the side, presumably through which light could seep into the shed. The roofing sheets were rusted and on the verge of collapse. The planks were infested with woodworms.

Jasmine opened the creaky and rusted steel door. It grated across the leafy ground and produced swirls of dust. Sawflies fluttered out of the darkness and unto the light as if they were fleeing something, gently brushing my face as if to say thank you for saving them.

What followed was a strong stench of urine, dead animals, and blood that punched them on their noses. They covered their noses and stepped inside the dark shed.

And then they suddenly froze at the sight of something.

It wasn't stripped and split wild animals on hooks.

It wasn't swingers and hobos pleasuring each other.

It was Mackenzie, dangling from a noose tied to a meat hook by the neck, three feet in the air.

Jasmine screamed.