Requiem [COMPLETED]

Dirge of Saturn

        Charlie heard the truck turn onto the gravel, pebbles crunching under its' wheels as he shut the car door. He locked the doors and ran across the clearing. "Sven!"

Sven was out of sight at the cattle pond, behind the fallen in barn. He was looking up though when Charlie came around the corner; he stopped shoveling as Charlie hurried over.

"He just drove up; the dome light was on since I had the door open."

"Well, we've got a camping lantern going too. It's not you fault." He leaned around the side. "Yeah it's him." They stood for a minute, thinking. Sven killed the kerosene lantern.

"Look, what can he really do? I mean, there's two of us. Let's just go walk to the car and leave."

"There's a lot he can do. Remember the bodies?"

Charlie leaned against the barn, which protested and gave an inch, causing him to scramble upright again. "Well, I dunno. Whatever you want to do we do together."

"Who knows you're out here with me?"

Charlie looked at him silently.

"Do you have your cell?"

"It's in the car."

"Fuck."

"Seriously, the guy just got out of the hospital."

"Charlie, he keeps a shotgun in the truck and a handgun in the house. He's killed seven people-- that we know of--" he rubbed his head in his hands; "look, take the lantern. Just hang back and watch for now."

"Jesus, what is this, a cop movie?"

"He already threaten to kill you once when he last found you here," Sven reminded him, "and he killed me, almost. So yes, I'm gonna be fucking paranoid. Now do what I tell you." He pulled Charlie in a hug. Charlie held him as tight as he could.

"Don't do anything stupid," he whispered.

Sven responded ruefully, "I didn't think he'd show up; I really thought we'd get out of here with no problem and he'd never know." Sven looked in his eyes and then was gone in the dark, slipping silently away in his battered sneakers.

Sven thought about what was in the car. Grandpa would have canvased Charlie's car already, collecting facts: Charlie was here, so Sven would be. Maybe Sigrid. There were plastic bags and tape measures. Sven had found some small foot bones they'd missed earlier and threw them in the back seat on the floor. For a man who'd always been unnervingly perceptive, it would be more than enough evidence.

Grandpa was looking at the driveway where Sven's car had been parked earlier. So he knew that Sigrid wasn't here anymore. That would change things. He stood up to his full height and Sven felt a fist tighten in his stomach. Even though he was now nearly as tall as grandpa, he had all the memories from being a child with that monstrous frame filling up the doorway, blocking out the light. Sven was filled with an overwhelming mix of fear and derision; he was a man, not some mythical monster. He would be faced; he would be drug out into the light and the charlatan would not cower him.

Per was in no hurry; mistakes were made when he rushed. Thoroughness was next to godliness. When he'd called Jim Ohren that afternoon, debating staying in the hospital longer, Jim had mentioned talk of some kids at the old homestead poking around. He knew who and had a good guess why. He hadn't expected Sigrid to have been involved, though he had amended this to the  power of Sven's influence. Sven had always been weaker. That was his worst flaw. If only he'd been able to to harden him, he could have made something out of him.