Page 26 of Burn For Me

“Hey there, I hope I’m not being a pest,” she said but didn’t give me a chance to answer before reaching into the backseat of her car. “I made some deep-fried gator bites and potato salad.”

“I thought you said you don’t get out much,” I said, leaning against the open car door. Dora turned and handed me a still-warm tray that I had to admit smelled fucking amazing.

“Who said anything about going anywhere?”

“Where did you get the gator,” I asked—my eyebrow lifting at the woman that was no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet.

“The shithead was trying to get into my rabbit pen for a snack, so he found himself shot and skinned.” My mouth fell open, unable to hold back the surprise. “Don’t look so shocked. This old bird still has a few tricks up her sleeve. Besides, I don’t like gators gettin that bold with my property. The next thing ya know, the buggers will be wanting to be in my sitting room and watch television. Don’t trust those bastards. They’re cagy.”

Dora headed for the house, but I jogged a couple of steps ahead to steer her the other way.

“Why don’t we eat out here on the deck,” I said, taking the bowl of potato salad from her hands. “I just finished laying the new boards so it’s good and sturdy and besides, I don’t have the inside cleaned.”

“I guess so. It’s kinda hot, though.”

I didn’t want her heading upstairs to the only bathroom in the place and accidentally coming across the Giltberts. The thought of killing the older woman didn’t sit well in my stomach like the rest of my kills.

“I have an idea.” Sitting the food down on the small table I wandered into the house, the screen door bang closed as I made my way toward the fan. I’d been using it to help me stay relatively cool at night. Not that it helped much with the humidity making your ass crack sweat doing nothing. The fan had cleaned up surprisingly well, with only a few spots of rust on the thin spokes. It had a slight rattle but still worked like a charm.

“Here you go.”

I plugged the fan into the extension cord I had lying on the porch and turned it to face Dora before I sat down. Dora continued to stare off into the distance, her eyes trained on something behind me. The hair on my arms stood on end as I turned to look over my shoulder. All I saw was the pair of rocking chairs that were moving slightly in the breeze and the fields and trees beyond.

“Spirits of the dead follow you around and are tied to you like an anchor. They’ll drag you to an early grave if you let them,” Dora’s said softly, her voice wispy with a strange edge. My head whipped back to her direction, and she blinked and then smiled wide. “Are you not going to eat? I’m starved.”

“What was that, Dora?”

“What was what?” She licked her finger and stared at me in confusion.

“Nothing. I thought I heard something.” Swallowing hard, I nodded to the food.

What was the point in questioning her? Obviously, whatever disease was crawling around in her brain was eating it away in a way I couldn’t comprehend.

The food was fantastic. I could get used to this. I threw together a half-decent meal, but this was different. You could taste the emotion she’d poured into the food. Every mouthful told a story, and sometimes it felt sad, but today it was full of positivity.

As soon as we were finished eating, I helped Dora back to her car. She linked her hand through my arm as we made our way down the stairs and didn’t let go until we reached the small white sedan. I still couldn’t figure out why in the hell I was letting her drop by like we were old friends. The thing was, she was the closest thing I’d ever had to a real friend, and it felt good to talk to her about random, pointless things. She reminded me that maybe there was still a spark of humanity left in me.

“Thank you for the company, my boy.” Dora patted my arm before she got into her car. “Do you mind coming by once in a wee while? You know, just to make sure I’m not dead on the floor?”

The irony of the question was not lost on me, but I gave her a little smirk. “Sure, I can do that.”

She stuck her arm out of the window and waved as she pulled away. Shaking my head, I wandered over to the fence to continue my work. The goal was to house cows in here in a few weeks. The less I had to go to town, the better and that meant raising and growing as much of my own food as possible.

It was dark by the time I made my way back to the house and grabbed a soda from the fridge. There was a storm on the horizon. The dark clouds were not far off, and I could hear the gentle rumble of thunder rolling in. The bright, wild flashes of lightning in the distance that hit the ground and screamed that it was going to be a bad one.

The lone bulb in the kitchen flickered above my head, swinging slightly, as I grabbed Jim’s phone and a paper map I’d created. There were a few red circles on it, two of them that had an X through them, but there were still two that needed to be marked off.

Boom.

Thunder shook the bones of the house, little bits of dirt raining down on my head. I turned my gaze back to the two circles on the map, and my thoughts began to swirl. The house shook again, the light blinking, but it was the shadow that moved at the end of the kitchen that had me standing. My eyes searched the darkness beyond the door that led to the cellar, and my hands balled into fists. Anger rolled around inside me, as the thought that someone had invaded my space. Grabbing the large knife off the counter, I spun it in my hand as my gaze flicked from one shadowed corner to the next.

“Unless you want to die, I’d show yourself,” I growled.

My eyes flicked between the hallway, the cellar, and the open doorway that led to the living room. A soft laugh echoed in the kitchen, and my muscles flexed in response.

“Who the fuck is there?”

The laughter came again, but nothing moved in the inky black. The front door slammed open with a bang, slapping against the hallway wall. The screen door squeaked and rattled like someone was trying to get inside.