The Pale Man Rises

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

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Grace Bell was the first one to the door. She fumbled in her purse for her ring of keys. Once she had them she began seeking the one to the door, but it was difficult finding them in the gloomy darkness. She turned back to her husband who was at the trunk of the car. "Why in the world didn't you leave the porch light on?" She badgered him.

Why did she blame him for everything Charles wondered? Was that what a husband was for after so many years of so called wedded bliss? "I thought I did." he said as he inserted the trunk key into its slot. "Why didn't you?" He snapped as he lifted the lid of the Chrysler's boot and began rummaging around their suitcases looking for his large cell battery flashlight that was in there.

He at last found it and pushed its button to the on position. "Hurry up I'm getting cold!" Grace scolded him. "Hold yer horses woman, hold yer horses!" he snapped at her. As he passed the car he turned the light on the bloodhound that seemed just as eager to exit the car.

"You want to get out do you?" Charles asked the beast. The dog grew hyperactive as if he understood the man's question. So Charles pulled the door's handle and swung it open. The bloodhound dove out and raced past him around the rear of the car seemingly intent on going west down Alliance Road judging by the way that he was headed.

"Hey dog, hey Blue Boy come back here!" Charles commanded in a loud voice, but the dog ignored him. "Hey dog?" he called yet again, and then he whistled for the creature. But all his efforts to get the animal to return to him were useless. The dog continued on back to the west intent to go where he wished. "Charles please?" Grace cried She was growing quite impatient.

Charles moved to the rear of the car and shining the light on the creature called after the fleeing hound yet again. He even whistled once more, one of those loud, shrill irritating whistles through pursed lips, but it was all for naught and he could see a reward quickly moving off with the dog.

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"Charles please, forget about that damn dog for a minute, I'm getting terribly cold out here!" his wife continued to nag him. Her tone was growing increasingly high in pitch. "Oh well I guess he's got things to do and places to go–God I envy him." Charles at last said with resignation in his voice. He went to his wife then and pointed the circle of light from the flashlight down onto her ring of keys. Once she found the right one he directed the light onto the lock of the door so she could fit the key into the slot.

"It would've been much easier in the daylight don't you know? I don't understand why you had to get home so quickly on the Sabbath?" his wife continued with her complaining. "I wanted to check the books okay?" Charles said as he pushed the door open.

Blue Boy was well down the road when he heard the muffled blasts of the Smith & Wesson. Luther had used a pillow taken from the Bell's own bedroom to restrict the discharge of his weapon when he shot the two residents. It had softened the noise enough that none of their distant neighbors had heard it, but not enough that an animal as keen as Blue Boy would not hear it.

Upon hearing the shots the dog halted and reversed his course back toward the house. Silently he crept to the rear of the Chrysler and hunkered down beneath the shelter of the trunk. He could smell a vile presence in the house its odor floating through the still open door. He could see the light as it moved about inside and then on the door as it was returning to the outside. He saw the outline of a large, shaggy-haired man holding the light, which he immediately extinguished once he was on the porch. His odor was at once repulsive and familiar to the dog. It was the one who was following those whom he pursued, it was the one apart that he knew was equally disreputable.