Lair Of The Seductress : Grayson Lumber by Douglas Goff |
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language. Excerpt from Book Three Hag's Hollow Chapter Eight (Stogger attack on Greg and Katie): A slamming sound followed by a loud grunt came from the back parking lot. Greg bolted back there, seeing Katie lying on the ground, covering her face. An older pot-bellied man stood over her kicking the officer in the stomach. He wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt that read “Beer is queer but whiskey makes me frisky.” Greg drew Bass. “Freeze, asshole!” Screeching tires interrupted the scene as a red S-10 pickup truck barrelled around the corner from the side parking lot. The passenger opened the side door and slammed it into Greg while they skidded to a halt. A stunned Greg tumbled onto the asphalt, feeling intense pain in his chest. The impact sent Bass clattering across the parking lot. Before he could get up, he felt hands grab him and roughly pull him to his feet. The large man who had him, pinned his arms behind his back, while a chunkier, shorter man ran over and began punching Greg in the gut. Both men wore red ski-masks and dirty blue jeans. When the taller man pulled him up, Greg observed he wore a black tribute t-shirt to the Rolling Stones with the big red lips and tongue emblem plastered on the front. The smaller man punching him had on a faded black vintage ACDC t-shirt that read “High Voltage 1975.” “This is for Renny, pig!” The ACDC wearer punched him hard in the gut. Greg’s gunshot wounds were now burning with pain. Dumbasses wear ski masks, then basically announce who they are. New Submission for Lair Of The Seductress: Two weeks had passed since the dead camper had been found and the Lilith case had gone stagnate. Maybe she was laying low with all the task force heat on the streets. Or maybe she had just moved on. I doubt either is true. I can’t help but feel like Lilith and I are rumbling down the same tracks heading towards an unavoidable head-on collision. “Where’s Kelsey?” Greg had stepped into the front room of the police station and saw only Jesse. It was his brother-in-law’s first day back to work after being shot. The bandages under his uniform shirt visibly puffed up that side of Jesse’s shoulder. “She was on the night shift rotation last evening. Katie volunteers to take most of them. She’s probably sleeping soundly, about now. Why? You got something?” His brother-in-law looked eager to get out of the office. “You up for a drive? I want to check something out that the mayor mentioned a few weeks ago. Should be a light and easy property check.” “You bet, boss.” Jesse was already up and grabbing his jacket. Greg drove Jesse’s Blazer and twenty minutes later they arrived at their destination. Grayson Lumber was a monstrously large complex. The size of the main building alone was immense. Greg drove them right up to the front double doors of the main offices. Mayor Whittis had provided him with a key, but he did not need it. The windows were busted out of the glass doors and one was propped open, hanging at an angle from the one hinge that still remained intact. Behind the doors was darkness. The building had been abandoned for several years. Greg and Jesse grabbed their radios and flashlights and exited the police SUV. As they approached, Greg felt a slight chill. Something doesn’t feel right. When they flicked on their flashlights and stepped in, he couldn’t help but feel like they had just entered the belly of the beast. Yet there was something more. Do I smell a slight hint of decay? More likely, my mind is playing tricks on me. This place is ‘horror movie’ creepy. The two cops made their way down a long wide hallway, passing several offices. Each had windows that were busted out, and a quick shine of their flashlight revealed that each one was empty. Greg noted a layer of thick dust covered the yellowing tile floor they were now walking on. At the end of the hall, they reached two swinging double doors that were windowless. There was a metal sign that read “Hard Hats Required Beyond This Point.” Someone had spray painted a big red penis over the still legible words. “I can see the urban artists did some excellent work here.” Jesse grinned. “Stay focused. This place feels off.” Greg couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t belong. The two men pushed through the double doors. His nose wasn’t playing mind tricks. The smell of decay was stronger here. They found themselves in a room the size of a football stadium. There were very various crates, tables, and rusted out saws and machinery all about. If someone was here, they could easily be hidden. Greg continued forward, crossing the room. He wasn’t following a hunch, he was following his nose. It led him past two openings. Their flashlights revealed they were once restrooms. Still, he bypassed them to a third opening that had a door. A sign on it read ‘Employee Gym’. The odor was definitely coming from behind it. Greg slowly pushed the door open, where they encountered another hall, maybe twenty feet long. They started making their way down it, when Jesse shined his light on the wall. “Look, Chief, more red paint.” Greg glanced up and froze. ‘Welcome To Hell’ was spelled out, but the texture was different from what was used to paint the phallic symbol they had discovered earlier. “That isn’t paint, it’s dried blood.” Both cops drew their weapons and continued towards the door at the end of the dark hallway. Greg noted both it and the handle were covered in cobwebs. Nobody has passed through here in a long time. So why the blood writing? What the hell is going on here. Punks? Transients? Maybe a cult? “Light and easy property check, my ass.” Jesse shook his head. “Not quite what I had in mind for my first day back.” Greg grabbed the handle and opened the door, immediately realizing they were dealing with none of the above when the bear tattoo on the back of his shoulder started to burn. Several things caught his attention, other than the stench, that made him wonder if he was hallucinating. First, there was a candle burning on a stone table towards the back of the room. We aren’t alone. There was also a canopy bed with red satin sheets, pillows, and a comforter with a pentagram symbol on it. Even the canopy curtains were a rich red. There were also several weight benches against the far wall and he could feel a cool breeze flowing through the room, coming from where a large circle of sunlight lit up the center of the floor. Looking up, Greg observed there was a sauna size opening in the roof, where a skylight style window had once been. Greg nearly tripped over something, causing him to look back down where he noticed a pile of clothes near his feet. He stared hard, not believing his eyes. In the pile were three t-shirts. One was white with the words “Beer is queer but whiskey makes me frisky.” The other two were a black tribute t-shirt to the Rolling Stones with the big red lips and tongue emblem plastered on the front, as well as a faded black vintage ACDC t-shirt that read “High Voltage 1975.”. All three had bloody holes ripped into the center of the chest. He had seen these shirts before. They were the ones worn by Lennox, Tate, and Starky Stogger when they attacked him and Kelsey at the police station. They had walked into something much more serious than vandalism. Holy shit! This place belongs to Lilith! Greg holstered Bass and unhooked his radio from his belt. “Central Dispatch Bravo One, requesting immediate back-up out at the old Grayson Lumber Plant.” “Copy. Any available units please respond to the Grayson Lumber yard on Woodier Road. Officers need assistance.” “Central Dispatch, Bravo One, also get ahold of the State Patrol and let them know we’re going to need their Mobile Crime Lab.” “Copy.” “Central Dispatch, Bravo One, I’m also going to need you to notify Task Force Ash in Collville and get them rolling out here.” “Any specific member, Bravo One?” “No, Dispatch, send them all.” “Good copy.” “Boss, I’ve got something over here.” Jesse brought him back to the scene. Greg walked over to his officer who was shining his light in the far corner. He saw a very large pile of bones, some still having rotten flesh clinging to them. They were the cause of the decay smell. “Look.” Greg rested his light beam onto the stone table. In the center was a small pile of ash. The same as had been left at the other crime scenes. “She killed at least one of these victims in this room.” They cleared the rest of the room while waiting for other units to arrive. They found no evidence that Lilith was still here, or that she had just been. The lit candle told Greg differently. She must have just left, but how? We came through the only door. When other cops started to arrive, including Task Force Ash members, the officers bagan pairing up and searched the compound. It took several hours to clear all of the structures on the entire complex. The only room of interest discovered was the old gym. The task force members regrouped outside of the main building in the parking lot. “The Mobile Crime Lab is going over that death room with a fine tooth comb. Hopefully we’ll finally get a solid lead on who this Lilith is.” Sheriff Watson seemed hopeful. “Just how did you find this place, Chief?” Officer Kelsey asked. “Yeah, Greg. I thought I’d made myself very clear that we weren't going to put up with your Lone Ranger bullshit.” Agent David Harkins face was red with anger. “It wasn’t that. We stumbled onto this by dumb luck, really.” Greg didn’t like the man’s tone. I guess the ‘getting along kumbaya period’ has ended. “Really, chief, cause that seems like a bit of a stretch.” Kelsey also seemed perturbed that she had been excluded. Katie’s siding with Dave? Greg stared hard at his officer. “Yes, dumb luck. A couple of weeks ago Mayor Whittis asked me to check this place out for old man Grayson. He thought we were dealing with transients or vandal issues. We had no idea what we were walking into.” “I’m going to verify that with your mayor, Greg.” Harkins raised his eyebrows. “I don't give two shits if you do, David.” He helped save Jenny, but I’ve had my fill of this turd. “Why don’t we bring this down a notch, gentlemen.” Watson stepped between the two angry men.
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Douglas Goff
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