Danville Horror: A Pat Wyatt Novel (The Pat Wyatt Series Book 3) (2 page)

“Hello,” I called out to no one, shaking my head. Looking around, I noticed the Christmas decorations were still up. It was probably the theme for the wedding. Winter wonderland.
Vomit.
My disgust was soon replaced with a feeling of happiness. To my right was the living room with its beautiful fireplace strewn with holly and tinsel. Pops had even put our stockings up. Luckily, I had remembered,
after
I landed, to get him a little something at the airport shop.

Peering into the living room, I saw nothing had really changed. Pops still had that ugly as sin-brown recliner in front of the fireplace, but a flat screen TV had been added above the mantel. It didn’t look safe up there, but knowing Pops he talked the installation guy into doing it that way.

Walking a little farther into the house, I placed my handbag down on the bottom of the stairs to my left while taking my coat off and throwing it over the banister. It led up to the second floor, and my room was at the very top. I had the urge to run upstairs and take a nap but thought better of it. Moving past them, I ran my fingers against the garland-laden pegs, hearing the soft pangs of the wood. It was as sweet as on old lullaby almost long forgotten, and I smiled to myself.

“Hello,” I repeated, walking through the archway into the kitchen/dining room area. “What? No party?” I mumbled to myself, and, as if on cue, the lights went up and there was a collective, “Surprise! Happy New Years Eve!”

I jumped a mile and winced as the pain shot through my very bruised body. “Holy mother,” I breathed, “you scared the living daylights out of me.”

Pops ran up to me before I could see everyone, and he bear- hugged me. “How are you, baby girl?” he asked as he squeezed me tighter, and I nearly fainted from the pain.

“Not good, Pops,” I whispered to him. “Not good.”

“We’ll talk later,” he whispered back, letting me go so I could breathe.

“Is that Patty Melt?” a gruff voice came from behind my father, and as I looked behind Pops, I could finally see him.

“That can’t be Bob’s Big Boy,” I said, straining to look up at him. He must have grown a foot since I last saw him, and he looked quite handsome in his Army fatigues. Robert Anderson must have just flown in from his post, wherever it was at that point. The last time I saw him, he was going into Special Forces. By the looks of him, he definitely got in. I mean, even his muscles had muscles.

Bobby stood at six-four with his buzz cut and bright smile. He opened his arms to me. “Get in here, little girl.”

I threw my arms around him, and he gave me a gentle hug. “Work out much?” I laughed as we pulled away from each other.

“You like?” he said proudly.

I nodded, still laughing a little. “You bet I do. Your arm is bigger than my head.”

“Not
that
big. But the job calls for it.”

“Can you tell me what the job is?”

He shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “Nope. Sorry.”

I snapped my fingers. “Damn.”

“You look,” he paused, “bad.”

“Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl blush.”

“What happened to your face?” he asked, concerned. “It’s all bruised.”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” I managed to say through a smile.

“Hello, Pat,” Cindy said with a wave. She was standing beside Bobby and sported a new, blonde, hair color. It looked good on her, more natural than that awful red, and I hated admitting that to myself. In fact, she looked a little older than the last time I saw her, and I was able to make out that she was actually quite pretty. She didn’t wear any makeup so I could see her big blue eyes and cream colored skin. Her face was not like the Victoria’s Secret model I had seen before, and without the heels, she was only about five-six tops. She had naturally full lips and a very slender frame. She looked normal. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“Hello, Cindy,” I replied, eyeing her skeptically, “you look…”
Careful Pat,
“Nice.” But she did look nice; she even wore this beautiful long-sleeved, navy blue dress. It was weird.

She genuinely smiled. “Thank you. I’m so excited to have you as my matron of honor.”

“About that,” I began, but Pops cleared his throat from behind me. It was a warning. “I just want to say how excited I am to be a part of your special day.” Was it true? No. Did it matter? Not to me.

“I’m so glad,” she said, pulling me into a hug. Apparently, it didn’t matter to her either.

I patted her on the back. It was awkward. “Me too.”

“Okay,” a soft, alto voice said from behind Cindy, “this is just too weird.”

When I pulled away from her, I saw them. They had been hiding from everyone else, and I couldn’t help but smile and then frown. “Oh my God,” I said, mouth agape. “Sandra? Madison? What the hell happened?” I looked down at Madison Smith in her brand new wheelchair then up at the over six foot tall Sandra Reynolds. They were an odd couple to say the very least.

“We went skiing,” Madison said, glaring up at Sandra.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that you would fall and break your leg in four places?”

“Four places?” I asked, and they both nodded. “Wow.”

“She’s lucky I love ‘er,” Madison said, smiling up at her.

They had been the only couple who had fallen in love in high school and stayed together all these years. It was truly remarkable.

“So, where’s my hug?” Sandra asked, opening her long arms. I hugged her, and she gave back one of the best hugs I’ve had in a while. Sandy always gave the best hugs. At last, I pulled back, and she smiled at me. Sandy was a beautiful African American woman with the greenest eyes, a head full of massive black curls, cheekbones to die for, and was wearing her typical jeans and t-shirt combo.

Madison cleared her throat. She, on the other hand, was shorter than me, even when she wasn’t in the wheelchair, with blue eyes and a peaches and cream complexion. Mad had on a pink skirt and sweater, which made her naturally long, red hair so vibrant it was almost blinding. “Did you forget me?”

I smiled down at her, giving her an awkward chair hug. “Never,” I said in her ear. When I stood up straight, I looked at all of them, and they stared at me. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” they all said at once, and I knew why they were looking at me as if I was about to break.

“When did he call?” I breathed.

They all started to protest, but Pops cut them off. “About an hour ago. Mike told me what happened, and everybody just happened to be here, baby girl.” There was no way Mike explained everything that happened. I mean, with the werewolf mauling and the killing of a psychopathic monster, along with me killing a vampire named Herbert Morris. That would have been too much, especially for my father. But I’m sure he gave Pops some story about me being in an accident and losing the baby.

“You okay?” Bobby asked, giving me a half-smile.

I nodded. “Surprisingly, yes. I’m okay.”
For now
, the little voice in my head reassured me.

“We’re sorry, Patty Melt,” Sandy said, and Mad nodded.

“Terribly sorry,” Cindy agreed, and she actually seemed genuinely sad about it.

I raised my hands, waving off their concern. “It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll have a nervous breakdown later, but first, I want to know what you’ve all been doing.”

Everyone burst into conversation all at once, and I laughed. We sat at the table, discussing what they’d been up to for the past four years. Sandra and Madison had opened an antique shop in downtown Danville, which was doing great according to Sandy, but was only doing okay according to Mad. Bobby was very hush, hush about what he did in the military, but we did manage to get out that he was in Afghanistan for a little while. And Cindy explained that she had quit her job to help my father out in his mechanic shop as the sales manager.

As for me, I explained that as a freelance writer, I was very happy. And that after my failed marriage to Samuel Satané, I had moved to Louisiana with Mike. I conveniently left out that we were running from Samuel because he wanted to make me into his vampire bride and that I had a truce with my vampire ex so we could kill a monster that was never supposed to exist in the first place.

chapter

TWO

“Jesus H. Christ, Pat,” Bobby said as he took one of my bags out of the trunk of the rental car. “What the hell do you got in this? Rocks?” I smiled a little. Samuel had packed that bag, so who knew what he had put inside.

Sandy shoved him out of the way, picking up the other two bags with ease. “Stop your whining. They’re not that heavy.”

“Sweetheart,” Mad breathed with a smile, “nothing is heavy to you.”

“You know you didn’t have to do this, right?” I must have told them that I didn’t mind living out of the car at least ten times, but they insisted that it would be no way to live for the week I’d be there.

“Listen, you are not living out of the trunk,” Mad huffed, “and that’s final!”

“Well, at least, let me help.”

“No,” Sandy said, moving the bags out of reach. “You’re hurt, and there’s no way in hell fire that you’d make it upstairs in your condition.”

“Fine,” I sighed, folding my arms, “but I’m not happy about this.”

“Shut up and deal,” Bobby chimed in with a smirk.

All three of us narrowed our eyes, and before we could scold him, there was laugh from beside us. “Well, well, well,” Alexandria Sullivan said as she folded her arms, “if it isn’t the four freaks.” Alex had been part of our group in high school until she found cheerleading and became head bitch. Her once beautiful face was still that way, but years of tanning had left a little sun damage. Even her once all black head of hair was streaked with gray while her violet eyes were dull and lackluster. Time had not been good to Alexandria.

“Oh God,” Madison huffed, “it’s Alexbitchia. Make her go away.”

“What do you want, Alex?” Bobby asked, shifting my bag from one hand to the other.

“It’s Alexandria,” she corrected him, “and I wasn’t talking to you.”

“But you said—” Sandy began, but Alex held up her hand to stop her.

“Or you, Too Tall!” she looked at Madison with her evil, violet eyes. “And especially not you, cripple.”

“You fucking—” Sandy dropped the bags and started toward her. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she was a werewolf, her eyes almost blazed with anger.

Mad pushed her wheelchair between them. “Let it go, love. Let it go.”

“What are you doing here, Alexandria?” I asked, not caring. I had better things to do than fight with her.

“I was out for a walk and saw you four standing here, so I figured I’d come over and thank you.”

“For what?”

“For inviting me to your father’s wedding,” she said, and my eyes went wide. “Oh, wait, your daddy did that for you.”

“I don’t care, Alex,” I huffed, and she stopped smiling, “you’re welcome. Now, go home.”

“What’s the matter, Patty?” she asked as the four of us began to walk inside.

“Eat shit and die, Alexandria,” Sandy answered as she picked my bags back up, trailing the line.

Bobby pulled Mad’s chair up the lip on the porch, wheeling her inside, while Sandy and I walked in behind them. And as the door clicked closed, we heard, “Real mature,” from Alex.

“What a bitch,” Mad hissed as Bobby and Sandra placed my bags at the bottom of the stairs. “Pat, why does she hate you so much?”

“I don’t remember,” I answered, but I did remember. How could anyone forget something like that?

“Oh my God,” a sixteen
-
year
-
old Sandy said as she scoped the new girl, “she is so hot.”

Madison hit her in the arm. “Hey!”

“What? She is.”

“Oh, please,” fifteen
-
year
-
old me put in my two cents, “you think that sub with the mole is hot?”

“Well, she is too,” Sandy protested, and Mad shook her head. “And we should totally ask her to lunch.”

“Whoa,” Mad interrupted, “she’s probably heard the rumors and wants nothin’ to do with us.”

“I’m still gonna ask her,” I told them.

“Ask who?” Bobby, fourteen, asked, popping up out of nowhere. He could do that real well.

Throughout our high school we were notoriously known as “The Freaks.” Not only did we have the only open lesbian couple, but we also had Bobby who was the resident fat kid, and me, the sarcastic bookworm who got straight A’s. We were your typical outcasts with attitude, and I loved us.

“The new girl,” I replied.

Mad rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Sandy wants us to have lunch with her.”

Bobby’s eyes widened. “You mean the dark
-
haired girl?”

I turned to face him. “Yup. Why?”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “No reason.”

“Okay then. Here I go. Wish me luck.”

“You’re gonna need it,” Mad breathed, placing her hand on my shoulder.

I walked across the hall to where the new girl was huddled in the corner. Once I was standing in front of her, I put my best smile on and introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Pat.”

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I guessed it wasn’t such a good first day for her, and she didn’t know whether I was going to make it better or worse. “Hi,” she cleared her throat, wiping her violet eyes with her sleeve, “I’m Alex.” She was as a little taller than me, her black hair was streaked with purple, and her light skin was a little broken out. She was definitely dealing with first
-
class teenage problems.

“I’ve come over here to ask you to sit with us at lunch,” I said gently.

“Really?”

“Sure!” I jerked my head in the direction of my friends. “Follow me.” Over the next month, we had become best friends with the new girl. She was awesome, nice, and funny. Then, one day, when we were sitting at our table, she hit us with the bomb.

“Cheerleading?” I asked, my voice going up two octaves. “Alex, you know how they feel about us.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about time that we broke through the barriers. Right, guys?” she looked over at Sandy, Mad and Bobby, but they just looked down at their food. “And anyway,” she went on, looking back at me, “if I’ve learned anything from you, Pat, it’s that you can’t let someone bring you down. Especially, those type of people.”

“She’s right,” Bobby agreed. “You do say that a lot.”

I laughed. “All right. Nothing ventured
…
”

“Nothing gained,” we all said, toasting with our plastic cups.

After that day, she turned her back on us. She was accepted by the cheerleaders, got blonde highlights in her black hair instead of purple, and started shoving me into lockers when she walked by in the hallway. Then one night after the sophomore dance, she came by my house drunk.

“Pat,” she hissed, throwing rocks at my window, “Pat.”

I put down Jane Austen and opened my double paned window, poking my head out. “Who is it?”

“Alex,” she slurred, “I’m gettin’ the ladder.”

“No, you’re not,” I scolded her. “I’ll come down and get you.”

“‘Kay.”

I saw her sway, and I ran downstairs to get her before she passed out on the front lawn. As I went to the door, I realized that the house was quiet, so I ran the rest of the way before she made a raucous, disturbing everyone. Finally, when I opened the door, the wind kicked up, and I noticed she smelled like perfume and vomit.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, folding my arms in frustration.

“Pat,” she yelled, “let me in.”

I hushed her, helping her inside, up the stairs and into my room as quietly as possible.

“Wee,” she squealed as she flopped back on the bed. So I had to shush her again while I shut the door before my father heard.

I folded my arms again, glaring at her. “What do you want, Alex?”

“To be your friend again, Pat,” she said and then she started to cry. “I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you, but they made me.”

I shook my head, angrily. “Did they hold a gun to your head?”

She shook her head, wiping mascara all over her face. “But they told me if I didn’t that I’d never make the squad.”

“So you sold your soul for some pompoms,” I sighed, plopping down on the bed.

She placed her head gently on my shoulder, and I tried not to gag because of the smell. “I’m so sorry, Pat. You are my bestest friend in the whole world.”

I patted her head. “Okay. You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” she shouted, shoving me down onto the bed. I tried to tell her to be quiet, but she pinned me by my shoulders while her sparkly blue dress slid down to reveal her strapless bra. I remembered thinking that she was stronger than she looked. “I’m happy,” Alex continued.

“Get off,” I hissed.

Instead, she straddled me, hiking her dress up. “No,” she said, leaning down and kissing me square on the mouth.

I finally managed to push her off me, a little mortified. “What are you doing?”

“I love you,” she confessed, trying to put her hands in my hair, and I jumped off the bed as fast as I could. “What’s wrong?” she asked, confused. “You know we were meant to be together, and I know you feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

I grimaced. “Alex, I don’t like you like that. Not that there’s anything wrong with the way you feel. It’s just
…
” I paused, trying to let her down gently, “I’m not like that.”

“What?” she asked, tears in her eyes. That was not something she was expecting.

“I don’t like you like that,” I repeated, and she looked horrified.

“What?” she repeated and then left my room to get sick in the bathroom.

The next morning, she had left early, and from then on, she tried to do anything in her power to make my life a living hell.

“Hello,” Bobby was waving his massive hand in front of my face, “Earth to, Pat. You okay?”

I blinked and nodded as I returned to the present. “It’s this house,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I fucking hate it. Too many memories.”

“Whoa,” Mad said shocked, “since when did you start using the ‘f’ word?”

I shrugged. “I guess it was when…” I paused, “You know something? I don’t remember.” We all laughed until my sides and stomach hurt, and then I yawned.

“I think you should go to bed,” Mad suggested.

“Yeah,” Sandy agreed, “you look like shit.” There was no teasing in her voice, just genuine concern.

“To bed it is,” I declared. But when I tried to ascend the stairs, my bandages pulled. It felt like an alien was trying to rip its way out of my chest with a pair of pliers one inch at a time, so I cried out in excruciating pain.

Bobby was by me in a second. “That’s it; I’m carrying you.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” I said as he picked me up gently.

“Don’t drop her,” Sandy yelled.

“I got ‘er. Don’t worry.”

Mad waved. “Night, Pat.”

“Night, girls.”

While Bobby started up the stairs, I closed my eyes. I knew he wouldn’t dare drop me, but it was still unnerving having a human being carry me after these few months. When we finally made it up to the top, he made a slight left and stopped. “Could you open the door, I kinda got my hands full.”

I nodded, opening my eyes for just a second to turn the knob. He walked me inside and placed me down on my feet. It was incredible to see that the room was the same. Everything was exactly how I had left it all those years ago. The walls were still painted a dark purple, and the bed was nicely made with its floral bedspread against the far-right wall. Right next to it was the window and below it the window seat in all its white painted wooden glory; it even had the cushion my mother and I made when I was fourteen. The vanity my grandmother had gotten me for my eighth birthday was still flush up against the left wall, along with the dresser. They were still painted that off-white color my mother picked out when I was nine. It was nice to know that things could stay the same, even when someone had been away for so long.

“Wow, it’s exactly the way I remember it.”

“Yeah,” Bobby breathed, “Cindy was in here trying to get the place ready for you. She’s a nice woman, actually.” I glared at him. “I’ll get the bags now.”

“You think?”

Without another word, he left to get my bags from downstairs. I took off my boots, with only two grimaces of pain, and lay down in bed. This was going to be one of the longest weeks of my life.

Before I could even take a moment to close my eyes, Bobby walked back into the room, placing all the bags on the floor next to the door, including my handbag. “I thought you might be needing it,” he said, pointing to my purse.

I sat up a little, biting my lower lip in pain. “Yeah, thanks.”

He turned to leave and then stopped abruptly. “When that boyfriend of yours called, he said that you were badly injured in a car accident.” I figured it had to be something like that. “Can I see?” He looked over his shoulder at me. That was Bob. He just couldn’t keep his nose in his own business.

I shrugged the one shoulder that didn’t kill me. “Sure. Why not?”

“Should I close the door?”

“No,” I blurted. I did
not
want to be alone in my old bedroom with him. That kind of intimacy wasn’t needed. “I mean, no. It can stay open.”

“Okay,” he said, turning fully around. That was my cue to sit all the way up and take off my shirt. I watched as his eye widened with both excitement and shock. “Holy crap. All that is for one wound?” he asked, pointing to the bandage around my abdomen.

I nodded. “Sure is. Could you help me with it? It needs to be changed anyway.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he said, walking over to me. Then he gently unwrapped the bandages. When the gauze was nearly a third of the way off, he backed away from me. “Oh my God! What the hell?”