Chapter 20

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*NOTE: I previously made updates to Chapter 19. The new version ends with Alec walking away down the corridor.

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The last remnants of daylight extinguished about time Dennis turned off the main road onto Randall's driveway. The Bronco's headlights poured out in front of the rig, illuminating the dirt drive that led through the trees. The shocks absorbed most of the uneven road as the Bronco's heavily treaded tires dropped into one pothole after another.

You had better fucking be here, Dennis swore silently at his brother. He'd considered checking on Zeke first, but his gut told him to come to Randall's. He'd been a cop long enough to know that gut feelings weren't to be ignored.

The Bronco rolled up the final stretch of the drive before emerging into the clearing where the Scott home sat amidst the forest. He turned the last small bend, and the truck's headlights splashed across the trees on the far side of the small clearing—and a person—Zeke?—slipping into the woods as he cast a quick glance back Dennis' way, then disappeared into the night beyond the reach of the Bronco's lights. There and gone in the blink of an eye.

"What the hell?" Dennis breathed, his heart suddenly pounding. He killed the engine and climbed out, shining his flashlight into the trees where he'd seen the person vanish into the woods. Had it really been Zeke? Had he even really seen anyone? It had only been for a split second—could it have been an animal?

You're not that damn old that you imagine things—you know what you saw.

Dennis rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and looked at the house. It was dark, though Randall's truck was parked out front. He glanced at the woods again as he climbed the porch steps and rapped on the door with the end of the long metal flashlight. "Randall?" He opened the door and entered the house, found the light switch and flipped it on. "Randall-"

Something crashed to the floor in Randall's den, and he heard the man cry out.

Dennis sprinted for the hallway as his brother's cries became wails. He threw open the door to the den and stopped cold. The room was dark, and he could hear the man thrashing around, wailing and screaming. He snapped on the flashlight as he heard a loud, solid thump and the beam of light located Randall on the floor by his desk. Dennis stepped back, stricken by the horror in the man's bulging eyes. He squeezed fistfuls of his own hair, literally ripping it out by the roots as he bashed his head against the desk, soul-harrowing wails wrenching out of him.

"Randall...?" Cold chills raced down Dennis' spine.

For an instant, Randall looked at him, his face twisted in agony. "The wages of sin are death!" He slammed his head against the desk again, screaming out. "The wages of sin are death!" The man managed to get on his feet once more and fell against the wall, beating his forehead into the paneling. "The wages of sin are death!" His screams turned shrill as he ripped chunks of hair from his head and continued to bash his skull into the wall, cracking the paneling and the plaster beneath.

Dennis stood frozen in horror, his mind refusing to function and give him commands.

"Aaahhh!" Guttural cries piled in Randall's throat as he began to foam at the mouth, his eyes rolling back. He threw himself onto the desk, groping and flailing, then fell to the floor.

Holy fuck! Dennis snapped out of his paralysis and swept his hand down the wall, turning on the lights. The room was in disarray, lamps smashed, the TV busted, glass everywhere. Dennis instinctively drew his weapon and moved cautiously around the end of the desk as the man groped around on the floor, his body convulsing and contorting in sheer agony.

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