Uneasy Reading: 4 Horror Shorts

Dead Favors

1.
"I hate him," Martin said, partly to himself and partly to the road that stretched and curved ahead of him before disappearing into the green of the Adirondacks. Once he hit that line of trees he would be closer to his old hometown of Silver Point than he'd been in fifteen years. His stomach churned and the steering wheel of the stolen Accord felt suddenly slippery beneath his palms. He took a deep breath and found that he had trouble letting it out.

"He can't hurt you. Not anymore," Cassie said. "We've talked about this. You are stronger now. You are committed to doing this."

"I know," Martin said. Her touch had brought him back to reality, away from memories best left hidden and buried at least for now. He was glad she was with him now.

He exited Route 9 onto Miller's Road and rolled down the window. The rush of air was heavy with the scent of evergreen and freshly fallen leaves, two scents from his childhood that threatened to unleash a torrent of painful memories. After a moment he rolled the window back up and tried to focus on the road. He couldn’t let them cloud his mind.

Miller's Road wove through forests and fields for another half hour or so until it spit Martin and Cassie out into the small town of Silver Point. The town was just as he remembered. Shade trees lined each groomed street, children played in piles of dead leaves while smiling parents watched. Silver Lake glistened along the north side of town. Nothing much had changed in a place this small, except for the addition of a new gas station and a McDonald's. To Martin, it was like stepping out of a time machine and into a world best left forgotten.

Martin turned into the crushed gravel driveway of Cooper's Mortuary and started to get out of the car just as an elderly man wearing half-moon spectacles emerged from the large brick building. Mr. Cooper hadn’t aged well. His body appeared bent and he walked with a limp, and the thin wisps of white hair on his balding head looked as though a sharp breeze might tear them free. He looked much older than his true age.

"We're closed," the man said. He busied himself with locking the door.

"I know, Mr. Cooper. But I'm supposed to come here to pick up the keys to the White place. I'm Martin White."

Cooper looked over his shoulder and examined Martin. "Well so you are. When I sent that letter, I didn't figure you'd actually come. I figured it would be too much of an inconvenience for you."

"It really is," Martin said. No point in hiding the way he felt.

"You know you can only stay on at the house until the burial day after tomorrow, right? After that the house becomes town property just like your daddy specified in his will."

"I'm not even staying for the funeral. I'm just here to kill demons and free some skeletons," Martin said. He felt Cassie's hand on his back this time. It helped him to stay calm.

"You know a lot of people around here don't like you much," Cooper said. Spittle leaked from the crusted corners of his mouth. "You abandoned your daddy. You're a thankless son of a bitch and the sooner you're gone, the better."

"I don't really like the town much either," Martin said. "All I want are the keys to the house so I can take care of some things. I'll only be here a few days. Then I'll be out of what's left of your hair for good." He heard Cassie giggle.

"You are a rotten piece of work, ain't you?" Cooper said. "There ain't much difference between you and that tramp sister of yours."

Martin grabbed the old man by the front of his shirt and pushed him roughly against the door. He leaned close to Cooper and whispered, "Don't ever talk about my sister."

The old man's eyes didn't go wide with fear as Martin had anticipated. Instead, Cooper grinned, revealing a mouth without teeth. "You are a lot like your daddy. Except that he was a fine man, and you ain't amounted to much from what I heard."

"Get the keys," Martin said, fighting the urge to smash the old man's head against the bricks. He held onto Cooper for another few seconds, weighing the merits of doing so. He finally released Cooper so the old man could retrieve the keys.

2.

It was near dark when Martin and Cassie turned onto the long dirt driveway that led to the old homestead. The once-white paint on the two-story house was peeling and yellowing. The grey weathered steps that led up to the porch had cracks in them from the beatings of fierce upstate winters. The little work shed on the other side of the driveway looked ready to fall apart. Long, thick grass covered the front yard. Martin suspected that no one had cut it in years.
Everything about the property looked beaten and tired, as though it had endured the same abuse at its inhabitants.

"Looks bad, doesn't it?" Martin asked.

"Was it ever good?"

"I'm sorry about Mr. Cooper," he said. He leaned against the side of the car and stared up at the house. He didn't want to go inside; not yet. "He shouldn't have said what he did. You were standing right there."

"We've gone over this before," Cassie said. "He can't see me. You're the only one who can."

"He still shouldn't have said it."

"You have to be able to control yourself if we're going to do this," she said. "You have to listen to me."

"I know. It's just… he was one of them."

Wind whipped across the field, bending the grasses almost flat. Neither Cassie's long blond hair nor her blue dress moved in the breeze. She still didn't look a day over sixteen. She smiled at him. "Don't worry, little brother. Tonight's the night we start to make it all better."

"I'm tired. It feels like I've been up for days."

"I can let you sleep for a little while," Cassie said. "But we have a lot to do."