Enslaved Heart (A "No one lives" fan-fiction)

Jerry and Juniors

The outside of the store itself was nothing of true mention, the wood stripping of the white paint that had probably been layered on at it's opening but now was peeling away and even carved into with a blade of some kind with the names of their vandalizer. Beside the two screen door windows was a coca-cola vending machine that glowed with a faint white light more useful at night accompanied by a large ice machine that was stocked and locked with a heavy chain against the front handles. Adding to the security measures was an older fashion security camera drilled in place under the wooden canopy but upon closer inspection the wires fed into nothing and was most likely put there as a deterrence instead of a real recording equipment. In fact the screen itself was cracked in several places and a spider had created a thin translucent web across the hood of the camera where a fat brown recluse was entangling a squirming fly. The ground was previously dug up and cement was placed down in the very front of the store but it was cracked and loose now. Weathered by the years of rough storms and trodden under heavy boots until the gray was almost a smoky white and cigarette butts along with wrappers from odd candy bars were left to rot around a wire trash can. Clearly just as unkempt as the store itself and giving off the unpleasant scent of sun bleached garbage and pollen. They pushed open the screen door flinching at the squeal that the rusted hinges gave and the soft twinkle of a bell atop the frame which brought up the attention of the clerk.

He was an older man probably around mid thirties with a low hanging dirty blonde pony tail and distasteful side burns that touched near the tip of his rounded shaky chin. Despite being older a wild patch of acne rested against his forehead and cheeks. The round and reddened dots noticeable against the ivory face of the man from lack of sunlight which certainly did not enhance his looks. Add onto that the weasley bristles of a mustache over the top of his thin lips and a large crooked nose from being broken and never set correctly sat just between two black beady eyes that seemed to track their movements into the store, their wasn't any question why he had no ring on his finger. The cashier watched them in silence with an ancient comic book of Superman clenched between his slender fingers before turning his eyes up to an old TV towards the back of the store pointed at the counter and sat upon a wooden shelf that groaned and curved under the weight. Currently playing on it was the news where a pretty blonde reporter stood outside a familiar cabin and talked in a rushed tone her lips curled slightly in disgust.

"In other news there have been two grisly murders committed here in this small town of West Yellowstone. The bodies of Sharla and Henry Shaw have been identified and found in their rented cabin brutally mutilated by an unknown assailant and as you can tell from the scene of this crime substantial damage was sustained to the house and their truck from either an explosion or fire that has been yet to be determined. What is known is that they have been dead for only a day and several valuables along with a precious necklace belonging to Sharla is missing from their home, police have declined to offer a motive just yet but an anonymous source says they are looking into a robbery gone wrong. More details later but for now we go to Bob whose at the press conference being held by their daughter Dotty."

While she spoke the camera panned over to the view of the forest and there in the distance was the charred remains of the truck parked near the front of the house and the cabin itself with a hole through the front and police tape keeping everything roped off. Sheriffs dressed in their signature brown uniforms filed in and out carrying bags or cameras containing evidence of the scene but Donna couldn't watch for long before her stomach grumbled with guilt and she had to look away until the scene shifted to the press conference. A young woman was pictured behind a sturdy wooden podium standing tall with a sleeveless black dress and pearls dangling around her neck. She had an uncanny resemblance to Sharla but younger without the wither of age and instead of brown eyes she had piercing blue ones that seemed to stare through the screen at her. Speaking with such strength despite the rings of red under her eyes from crying that a pang of sympathy struck the woman.