Continued from: With Drawn: Part 30 — Vandal
Dennis sat on the Walsh’s living room couch. He was drinking a beer and watching the television. Dennis had his feet up on the coffee table and his beer resting on his stomach. This is how Dennis usually sat on the couch when watching television. He wasn’t really paying attention to the television though. He was too angry to pay attention to the television.
Dennis was grumbling to himself, saying, “Condescending little prick. I’ll show you who’s your daddy, you retarded little bitch.” He was talking about Jacob. Dennis wanted to go back upstairs to Jacob’s room and yell at Jacob some more. But Dennis figured that that would just lead to Dennis shoving the kid again. Or worse.
But Dennis didn’t have to worry about going back upstairs because Dennis could now hear Jacob creeping down the steps.
Dennis scoffed. He scoffed because he figured that Jacob was creeping down the steps for one of two reasons. Either Jacob was creeping down the stairs to apologize to Dennis, which was highly unlikely, or he was creeping down with the intent of trying to sneak back over to the house across the street. Dennis thought the kid was crazy if he thought he was going to sneak back over there. But as far as Dennis was concerned, the kid was crazy.
Dennis didn’t bother looking up from the television as he called toward the stairs, “Gonna finally show me some respect, you little brat?”
When no answer came, Dennis looked up from the television to the stairs.
Dennis’s eyes widened, the beer slipping off his stomach and spilling on the floor, the can rolling away in a golden, fizzy puddle. Dennis said, “It can’t be…”
Someone seeing Dennis’s reaction at that moment might think that Dennis was having a heart attack or an epileptic seizure. But what Dennis was actually experiencing was shock.
Shock is a reaction your body has when experiencing something very frightful. The body is overwhelmed by adrenalin, due to that fight or flight instinct, and the body shuts down momentarily.
Dennis was in shock because what he was seeing creeping down the stairs was not Jacob. It was the ghostly figure of Sergeant First Class David Grist. The figure was ghostly looking because it had no color, it was only shades of white and gray. It was dressed in a graphite-shaded army dress uniform, and the thing’s eyes were fixed, unflinching, on Dennis.
Dennis stood up from the couch. Dennis looked very much, at that moment, like a deer about to get its fucking head blown off, and he said, “David… but this… this can’t be…”
The ghostly figure that looked like Dennis’s former best friend reached the bottom of the stairs and it started toward Dennis. The thing reached its arms up slowly, and for a moment, Dennis thought it meant to embrace him. But when the thing reached its hands toward Dennis’s throat, Dennis realized the thing’s intent was far more sinister, and Dennis darted away from it.
The thing continued toward him.
Dennis edged away from the thing, Dennis saying, “This can’t be…”
When the thing reached for Dennis again, Dennis screamed in a high-pitch that sounded like a little girl’s scream, and he ran toward the Walsh’s den, almost tripping over an ottoman and almost crashing into a rocking chair.
The ghostly figure of David Grist followed Dennis toward the den.
Inside the den, Dennis darted to his gun cabinet. He fumbled the keys to the cabinet out of his pocket, Dennis looking over his shoulder and seeing the ghostly figure walking slowly into the den, the thing’s eyes still focused on him.
Dennis managed to unlock the gun cabinet and yank open the glass doors.
The thing continuing toward Dennis, raising its arms again as if for an embrace, but more likely to choke the life out of Dennis Walsh.
Dennis fumbled for the Glock 9mm, finally able to retrieve the weapon, and then he managed to pop a loaded ammunition clip into the gun’s grip. It was the second time that night that Dennis had to retrieve the Glock 9mm from the cabinet, and it was the second time that night that Dennis loaded the handgun, but it was the first time that he actually thought he’d need to use the thing. Dennis cocked the weapon, switched off the safety, and turned.
But the ghostly figure was upon him, and it gripped Dennis’s wrist, forcing Dennis’s hand to turn the gun toward Dennis’s face. Dennis struggled and screamed, but it was futile. The ghostly figure of David Grist forced Dennis to pull the trigger of his prized Glock handgun.
Continued in: With Drawn: Part 32 — Freak