Chapter 2

2

I ducked so fucking fastI almost quacked.

Don’t make a sound.

I slapped a hand over my mouth to prevent any noise. Possibly overkill. I mean, a fellow who showed up to kill monsters probably wasn’t the bad guy, but at the same time, PEOPLE WITH SCYTHES DON’T SHOW UP TO KILL THINGS!

Like seriously. This wasn’t a horror flick or a book. In the real world, this kind of shit didn’t happen. The Grim Reaper didn’t exist.

Tell that to the big dude outside.

A shadow suddenly blocked what little streetlight seeped in through the window, and I held my breath. As if that mattered when my heart pounded so loud it might as well have invited the looming specter in.

The door handle rattled, and I almost peed my pants. I sweated so hard I almost lost my grip on the frying pan.

The shadow of the scythe man moved away, and I waited. Waited a good thirty seconds before I couldn’t stand it and I crept upwards for a peek.

And got caught!

The man in the duster stood staring at the store’s front door and caught my gaze.

I gaped. Did I look upon my killer? At least he wasn’t ugly. Despite the low brim of his hat, he had a square jaw, sexy stubble, and surprisingly tempting lips set in a frown.

“Who are you?” he asked, his voice muffled but still distinct enough to hear through the glass.

“No one,” I squeaked, putting a second hand on my weapon in case he burst in and I had to swing.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I just finished work.”

“Open the door.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” I huffed.

“I mean you no harm.”

“Says the dude with a giant scythe,” I muttered under my breath.

His head swiveled as sirens wailed in the distance, their strident woo-ooo getting louder as they neared. He glanced back at me. “You might want to keep quiet about what you saw.”

“What did I see?” Because I still struggled with it all.

“Nothing. If anyone asks, it was dark, and you didn’t see shit.”

With that warning, the guy whirled, his long coat swinging with him. He tapped his scythe on the ground, and it shrank. Don’t ask me how, but it got small enough he could tuck it into his pocket. He strode off, and my whole body slumped in relief.

He’d not killed me.

The sewer aliens were dead.

But so were a bunch of people. Or so I assumed? Maybe they were just injured and in need of some pressure to stop the bleeding. If so, I really should render some aid.

I rearmed the store and locked the door once I emerged. I wasn’t the only one standing in shock on the sidewalk. People in apartments had heard the commotion and, now that red and white lights blocked the street on both ends, they’d found the courage to step outside.

I hugged myself as I surveyed the carnage. Bodies lay all over. None moving. My gorge rose as I saw the head of the first driver just sitting in the street.

Some of the slickness on the sidewalk and asphalt had to be blood. Hard to tell for sure with the darkness and the pouring rain. Oddly, I didn’t see any sewer alien parts. Despite the scythe dude having diced them mere paces from the shop, not a trace of them remained.

Odd. I’d not see the Grim Reaper taking the bodies with him.

Police officers came running with guns out, shouting, “Hands up! No sudden moves.”

Despite knowing I wasn’t a criminal, I shot those babies in the air.

A man in a suit came striding through the people in blue uniforms aiming their weapons at those of us looking shell-shocked on the sidewalk. The rugged-looking suit ignored the fact the rain soaked his jacket and plastered his hair as he planted hands on his hips and stared at the bodies.

It took him a second before he bellowed, “What the fuck happened here? Anyone see?”

Someone across the street in her housecoat yelled, “It was racoons! I knew there was something shifty about them.”

Yet another person hollered, “Probably the Nazis.” The go-to excuse for any depraved crime that people couldn’t fathom.

The detective—had to be, given the way he waved officers to question those who’d offered answers—crouched by the body of the homeless guy just as a female in uniform approached me. “Who are you? Why are you here?” she barked.

“I’m Sadie. Sadie Butler. I work here.” I inclined my head to the store at my back with its sign, Crack Kitchen Housewares. According to my boss, Enzo, people couldn’t resist weird and unique kitchen gadgets, hence the crack part.

“Are you armed?”

“No.”

Officer Perez, according to her badge, eyed me suspiciously before saying, “You can put your hands down. Mind if I ask you some questions?” Before I could answer, she continued. “Did you see anything?”

The reaper’s warning about not talking about what happened ran through my head. It made sense, because the story sounded crazy; however, it was the cops asking. They arrested people for lying. I blurted out, “Sewer aliens.”

Officer Perez blinked at me. “Er, what?”

Rather than repeat myself, I mumbled, “The things that attacked those people came from the sewer.” I pointed to the hole across the street. The grate still sat to the side of it.

“Rats did this?” she asked as if to clarify.

I wished I could say yes. Instead, I had to mutter, “I don’t know what they were. They were hairless and could walk on two legs.”

Her brows lifted. “Oh. I see.”

“It’s true,” I hastened to add, seeing as how she didn’t believe me. “I got a video of it.” I reached for the phone in my pocket.

She jerked back a step, put a hand on the butt of her gun, and barked, “Hands where I can see them.”

“I was just going to grab my phone so I can show you.” I withdrew my hand, holding my cell.

“Let’s see.” She didn’t move her fingers from her gun as I entered my passcode and then poked at my folder for media, the first thing on there being the video. I tapped it, and as it began to play, I flipped it around for her to see.

As she leaned in for a look, the screen did a weird flash with bright colored lines before it died.

“No.” I snatched it close and shook it as if that would fix it. My lips turned down. “I think it got too wet.”

“Forget the video for now. You saw the attack?” Perez questioned.

I nodded.

“We’ll need you to come to the precinct to answer some questions.”

“Must I?” I grimaced. “I mean I don’t know what those things were that attacked those people, other than they weren’t human.”

“And you’re sure they weren’t rats?”

“Very sure.” I’d have nightmares about those savage freaks.

“Racoons?”

“I told you. They were two-legged and hairless. Also naked.” I grimaced.

“Male? Female?”

“Don’t know. I wasn’t looking between their legs on account their faces freaked me out. They had their teeth filed like sharks!”

“Mm-hm. Where did they go?” Perez asked next, and I could see by her expression she didn’t believe me. Hell, I had a hard time believing myself, and yet I couldn’t walk back my admission at this point.

“Not sure where their bodies went, but I do know they died. Some dude with a scythe came along and killed them. Maybe he took them their remains with him.” Yeah, I threw the Grim Reaper under the bus. Anything to deflect attention from me.

It only made things worse, as Perez raised a brow and drawled, “So you’re saying a male with a scythe killed the perpetrators.”

I nodded.

“And where is that person now?”

“Dunno. He took off when he heard your sirens. But he can’t be hard to find. He’s like really tall and wore a long duster, all in black. Had a hat with a brim.”

“And a scythe,” she added with a smirk. “Should be easy to find.”

“Actually, the scythe shrank, and he tucked it in his pocket.” My voice got smaller and smaller as my brain finally woke up and pointed out just how crazy I sounded. Never mind the fact it happened. I could see the cop didn’t believe it. Heck, I still had a hard time processing the events.

“You know what, on second thought, I don’t think you’ll need to come to the station. I’m sure we’ve got what we need.”

Perez dismissed me, making me home free, so why did my dumb ass blurt out, “I’m telling the truth.”

“Ma’am, this is a serious crime scene, and we don’t have time for your fanciful stories about creatures from the sewer and a man with a scythe who killed them.”

My lips parted, but I held in the words, I’m not lying. It was obvious she didn’t believe me. Hell, at this point, I began to second-guess myself. “Does this mean I can go home?”

“Yes, but just in case we need to follow up, I need your name, phone number, and address.”

The officer held out a pad of paper that got wet, and she frowned. “Let me find someone with a tablet who can take down your info.” She wandered off, and I glanced around, noting the growing crowd, as well as the arrival of more flashing lights as paramedics arrived to render aid. Not that anyone appeared to need any. Not a single body twitched or moaned.

A shiver went through me. I could have been one of those corpses given I’d stupidly stood there watching.

Perez didn’t return. I assumed she’d been distracted, and since the rain wasn’t getting any lighter I decided, fuck this. I walked away.

I headed away from the mess of lights and people, my feet squelching in my shoes. I usually avoided the subway at night, but I didn’t think they’d be sending another bus anytime soon, so it was my only option.

When it came time to head down to the station, I eyed the stairs and felt a moment of trepidation. Dumb, really. The sewer aliens literally crawled out of a sewer, and that system didn’t open up into the subway. Besides, if they were in the tunnels, people wouldn’t be calmly walking up the steps but sprinting while screaming. Or there’d be no foot traffic at all.

My prepaid Presto card let me through the turnstile, and I skipped down more steps to the platform itself. It wasn’t crowded this time of night, but there were enough people to make me if not relaxed at least not twitching. So long as I stayed behind a few, I’d get a head start if more of those sewer aliens decided to attack. I kept watch, staring left and right at the dark tunnels extending past the well-lit areas.

The train arrived in a rush of air that made my teeth clack as I finally reacted to the cold. My sodden clothes hung heavy as I embarked with everyone else, choosing a seat away from a door, where I could tuck against the window. Usually, I’d be reading or playing games on my phone, but tonight I just stared at the fast-moving concrete walls as we sped along. As it slowed for the next station, strange motion outside the window had me blinking and straightening.

Nothing there. Probably a shifting reflection in the glass.

When we neared the next stop, I stood and held the overhead bar as the train slowed. The doors whooshed open and I looked first before slipping out with the other folks onto the platform, a herd of us walking quickly for the exit. As I waited my turn to board the escalator, I glanced behind to watch the train leave and gaped, because riding atop the last car?

A bald, gray figure!

Gone in a flash, and so was I. I eschewed the moving stairs for the immobile version and pounded up them so fast I huffed, and my heart pounded against my rib cage trying to escape the cruel body making it exercise. A stitch in my side begged me to slow down and take a rest. Not happening. My fast-paced stride gave me shin splints but got me to my apartment building in three minutes instead of my usual lazy strolling five. Only once the security door latched behind me did I heave a sigh of relief.

My paranoid ass checked the elevator before getting inside just like I eyed the hall before stepping out onto my floor. I practically ran to my door, my jingling keys noisy, but at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted my apartment.

I got in and quickly slammed the door shut. Locked it. Chained it. And then because it didn’t seem like enough, I wedged a chair under the knob.

Only then did my shoulders drop. Home, sweet, safe home. Just me and my plastic plants because I didn’t do well with other living things. Plants died, so did fish. I’d thought of getting a cat, but the idea of scooping a litter box icked me out.

As the adrenaline wore off, a chill hit me. I shivered so hard my fingers had a hard time stripping my soaked garments. My teeth clacked as I dropped all my stuff in the laundry basket.

A glance in the bathroom mirror showed me looking wretched. Eyes slightly bloodshot. My hair a ratty, sodden mess. My lips a purple-blue.

While a hot bath would have been nice, my compact apartment only had a shower, and the water emerged lukewarm. A cozy pair of fleece jammies did the trick, warming me up, as would a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows. While I prepped the warm milk for it, I dunked my phone in a container of rice. Please god, let it dry out and work. I really didn’t want to downgrade to a cheap flip phone. I’d only finished paying for my current smart one three months ago and would prefer to not lose the extra grocery money, given inflation made everything more expensive these days.

My couch cradled my ass nicely, and my thick blanket cuddled me further as I balanced my laptop on my thighs. Despite having been a front-row spectator, I found myself curious as to what the news and social media were reporting about the murder scene by my work. Not much, as it turned out.

Internet searches of various keywords—massacre, bus attack, Bulberry, the street it happened on—didn’t pull up shit. Could be the search engine had not indexed anything yet. After all, it had only been an hour since it happened.

I went to Reddit, my local source for neighborhood drama, and finally got a hit.

WTF happened to Bus 678? A friend who lives on its route says it’s stopped in front of Moe’s Dry Cleaning and has its windshield smashed and its roof dented. Claims there’s bodies in the road. Anyone got the deets?

A bunch of replies followed, and the more I read, the more my brow creased. The stories and theories were all over the place. The most common hypothesis being a drug addict had an episode and turned mass murderer. The most ridiculous one mentioned a thick fog that killed people just like in that Stephen King story, The Mist. Even more oddly, no one spoke of the man with the scythe.

How could anyone who claimed to have seen the incident have not noticed either? I mean, yes, it was dark and rainy. However, part of the events had been illuminated by the headlights on the bus and car. Could it be I was the only up-close witness? I hoped not, because the lady cop had acted as if I were having a drug-induced episode, her entire attitude dismissive of my claims. In her defense, it sounded pretty far-fetched. Even in retrospect, I second-guessed what I’d seen.

A yawn cracked my jaw, and I noticed the time. Late. And I was supposed to be opening the store in the morning. I rose and shuffled to my kitchen to deposit my mug in the sink. As I headed for my bed, I glanced out the window. My view of the alley and the backside of a warehouse was the reason why my rent was fifty dollars cheaper a month than apartments overlooking the road.

A hint of movement by a dumpster had my lips pursing. Probably a racoon or an actual rat. Still…

I yanked the blinds closed, and then, because I was suddenly nervous in my own place, shut my bedroom door—not something I ever did—and slid my dresser in front of it. As for the window? I moved my nightstand under it and placed some knickknacks on top.

Wasn’t nobody getting in without waking me.

For the first time in my life, I also slept with my hand around the butcher knife I usually kept in my nightstand.

The next morning—after cursing out the phone that still glitched after I pulled it from the rice—I’d nearly convinced myself I’d overreacted.

Until I left for work. As I went to lock my place, I saw claw marks on the outside of my apartment door.