The Last One Home

Part 13

Mr. Elrod wondered if Jiffy, his miniature schnauzer, was ever going to come back in the house. Normally the dog would go outside, complete his business, and give a sharp bark at the back door to be let back in. Tonight he had been outside a little longer than usual.

He hadn't really noticed how much time had gone by until his show had gone to commercial, and he had visited the fridge in the kitchen. With a half a sandwich in one hand and a cold beer in the other, it dawned on him that Jiffy was still absent.

Mr. Elrod squinted through the glass of the back door. The security light was on and seemed much too bright in contrast with the dark kitchen. While watching tv he preferred to keep most of the lights off in the house.

Leaving his sandwich on the island, he limped towards the door with the beer still clenched in his hand. His left knee let out a pop as he walked. His recently replaced knee betrayed his relatively young age of fifty six years. He refused to use his cane. He held onto the hope that eventually he wouldn't have to hobble around like an old man.

Leaning against the cool glass, he surveyed the yard. Still no Jiffy. Criss-crossing paw prints stood out in the fresh snow. He silently cursed the dog. He had repaired the fence so many times he couldn't imagine the dog had gotten out.

With a small squeak, he pulled the door open just a few inches. Frigid air stung his face. He called out for the dog. Normally within a few seconds he would be greeted by the sound of rapidly approaching paws. Tonight he heard only the howling wind. He called out again. Still no response.

It was about this time that Mr. Elrod noticed other footprints mixed in with the dogs. These prints were left by a person. From the size of them probably a man. He hadn't been in the yard since the snow started. He wondered if a neighbor had come through the yard.

Closing the door, he turned toward the living room where he had left his shoes in front of the tv. It wasn't until he had crossed the threshold from the kitchen into the living room that he realized the room was completely dark.

Hadn't he left the tv on?

He knew he had. He wouldn't risk tripping over something by turning it off. Normally the light and sound of the tv brought comfort. Now he was faced with an inky black, silent room.

Finding his house shoes where he had left them, he slipped them on. The room felt noticeably cooler than the rest of the house. Almost as if a door had been opened recently. True, he had just had the back door open, but that wouldn't explain why the front room felt so cold.

Trying to shake off the chill, he bent down to the side table and turned on the lamp. The soft yellow glow did very little to illuminate the large living room. Shadows clung to each corner defiantly.

Mr. Elrod turned and moved as quickly as he dared back to the kitchen. He grabbed his cane that he had left propped against the wall. Suddenly he felt like he may need a weapon. 

He had never owned a cell phone, though his kids told him repeatedly that they would love to provide him with one. The only phone was the old wall mounted relic across from the refrigerator.

Crossing the threshold once again,he reached up to take the receiver off of the wall when he heard a sound that made his heart leap in his chest. The soft scrape of a shoe followed by the creak of a floorboard. He ripped the receiver from its cradle. Behind him he could hear the footsteps accelerate in to a full on run. Something heavy was approaching. He clumsily pounded his finger into the keypad but had only succeeded in pushing 9-1- when two hands crashed into his shoulders and yanked him backwards. Still clutching the receiver, the cord yanked from the wall with a snap.

Mr. Elrod twisted furiously, but succeeded only in tripping over his own feet. As he crashed to the floor, the hands let go of his shoulders momentarily. Dropping the receiver from his right hand, he swung back as hard as he could with the cane still clutched in his left hand. It was a clumsy swing and it did not find a target. Rolling onto his stomach he could finally see his attacker. A large man dressed all in black stood over him. His face was covered with a pale, blank, grinning mask. Pushing himself onto his knees, Mr Elrod swung the cane again, this time connecting with the mans right shoulder. The cane made a sickening crack but seemed to have little effect. The man lashed out with a heavy boot to the face. Pain bloomed from his ruined nose and he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears. Blood dribbled into his mouth. Mr Elrod struggled to breath. Between the broken nose and the fire in his knee, all the fight left him.

The grinning man pulled a large knife from his waistband. With a flash the blade slashed down. Mr Elrod felt a sick tugging sensation at his neck followed by a searing hot pain. His throat had been cut. 

The grinning man watched as the life left Mr. Elrod. A large pool of blood encircled his head like a halo. After a few moments, he simply turned and walked away.