The Heartless Prey

7. DeAnne Drive

The rain had now arrived. Laura stood at the base of the steps of the homestead. The drops were still light, but heavy enough to leave an imprint onto her grey sweater. The thunder cracked, not miles away anymore, instead the crack arrived just over a second after the flash lit up the sky.

The lightning allowed for her to see the interior of the homestead through the window. The walls of the house inside, from what she could gather from the split second of brightness, were all splintered and the paint had long degraded.

The door was still slightly open and it creaked further open just ahead of her. She put one foot ahead of the other as she ascended the steps. The door swayed all the way open, then swayed back to a half close.

Laura, the house whispered. Laura.... LAURA!

She was now under the overhang of the house, and the rain began to tap all around the house. The smell of a fresh moisture was now filling her nose. She had a deep desire to go inside of the homestead, to escape the rain and sheer emptiness of the surrounding landscape. But every instinct in her bones told her to go the other way. To sprint away from this place.

The front door now moved towards her once again. The door opened, allowing her to see within the dark confines of the house. The rainfall just past the overhang was now pelting the earth. The sound of the rain gushing through the gutters.

Another CRACK of lightning, this time immediately followed by the boom of the thunder. As the house lit up, she could see the silhouette of the figure standing in the doorway. It was larger than her. She'd guess about six feet. It was wearing a hood, an old style cloak that was draped over its head. It was thick in the upper midsection, but it's lower body was scrawny and malnourished. The alien creature was out of sight once the flash subsided.

The door slowly shut along with the wind once again, but it was still cracked open. She watched as four black, long, and thin fingers emerged from the crack of the doorway. Each of the fingers was twice as long as any normal man's. They were androgenous, and that of a creature opposed to any person. The fingers slithered on the side of the door before pushing the door open further.

Laura took a step towards it.

***

Laura sat in her cell and listened to Cooper snore. She had gotten some sleep that night while Cooper made every attempt not to. However, the old man couldn't overcome his natural exhaustion and his slumber commenced a few hours ago.

Laura's sleeping situation was poor, but it was much better than what Cooper had to deal with. Dylan had brought her an expensive wool blanket and a soft pillow in the middle of the night. "I couldn't stand to think of you sleeping on the cold hard basement floor...", he whispered to her through the bars.

"Then bring me up there with you?", Laura asked sweetly. "I've been so cold down here Dylan and I hate the smell. Can I go up to your house with you? I'd feel a lot safer."

Dylan was torn. "You know I can't let you do that my love. I got to make sure I can trust you first. I'm spoiling you enough as it is", he said as he stuffed the pillow through the bars. "You keep up this attitude, and you quit talking to that old man over there. And maybe we can work something out in a few weeks. Now get some sleep."

Laura was disappointed when he went back upstairs. She wasn't sure if she was going to slit his throat in his sleep or simply dart off into the streets, beating on every door she could until she found someone to let her call 911.

She could hear Cooper start to grow restless as he slowly started to sit up as well. "And how was your night Laura?", the old man asked. His voice was off a pitch and his syllables trailed on. He yawned and stretched. Laura could see in the dim light that his shoulder quickly contracted involuntarily as he stretched. He was sore and beaten and she wished she could go over there to care for him.