NOTE: This chapter is available in audiobook format on the TLHOC Podcast.
Access previous chapters of the book on the Table of Contents page.
June 16, 1:21 pm
Billy followed three steps behind Keith and Pil, constantly looking to the left and right, as well as scanning the street to their rear. He looked under cars, and into the yards of the broken, burned, or locked up houses on either side of the street. He knew that danger could come from any direction, and if it did, he would only have seconds to react. After that, they would all have to rely on the Pil’s newly acquired sight—and his tire iron—to take down whatever was rushing toward them.
Nerves Billy didn’t know he had were frayed to the breaking point. Richard had made him promise he wouldn’t let anything happen to Keith, and although he had given Richard his word, he didn’t feel confident that he could get Richard’s husband out of the city. Even with Pil’s help.
He glanced quickly at the two men. There were walking close. Pil did not grasp Keith’s hand, but their bodies remained just inches apart and their steps were synchronized. They had fallen into a shared, shuffling rhythm, despite the tension that was written across their shoulders. Something in their manner made Billy feel strangely self-conscious, as if he was an unwelcome visitor, or a third wheel.
There is intimacy between these two, Billy thought. It’s unspoken, but powerful. And if anything gets them to safety, that may very well be it.
As they walked, Pil turned frequently to check that Billy was still behind them. They would share a quick glance, but no words, and then Pil’s eyes would once again scan the street ahead. The man’s grip on the tire iron was firm, but relaxed, as if it had become an extension of his arm.
Pil guided them up 3rd Avenue, toward the home that he shared with Michelle. Billy wondered if the very sight of the house would shatter Pil’s fragile resolve with a rush of painful memories. Hopefully, the man would be strong enough to stay focused on what he, too, had promised Richard.
From time to time, Billy would take a breath and close his eyes long enough to try to get a sense of where Mattie had gone. But there was still no sense of her.
Damn this static, he thought. Or she’s in some innocent, killing at at the direction of her master. Like so many other of the tortured ghosts in this city. He caught himself hoping that would remain the case—for as long as she was in a human host she could not sense him, either. And that could only help keep them safe.
Once we get to Pil’s house and get his car, maybe things will be easier.
About a block from Richard’s house, Billy registered something odd.
“Have you noticed?” he asked, drawing close to Pil on his left.
“Notice what?” Pil responded, not turning to look at Billy.
“The birds. The wind, everything. It was almost silent when we left the house. Now that we’re a couple blocks away, I’m finally hearing birds again.”
Pil looked thoughtful. He didn’t respond, but Billy could see him registering the fact that Billy was right. The silence that had seemed so oppressive just a block back now seemed less weighty. The air itself felt lighter, despite the devastation that was evident all around them.
“I’m worried about what we’ve left Richard and Howard behind to face,” Billy said, grateful that Keith could not hear his grave tone.
“I feel it too,” Pil whispered. “It’s like there is a… dark cloud behind us. It feels very tense. But we can’t think about that now. We have enough to worry about.”
Billy knew Keith could hear Pil’s side of the conversation, but he was still startled when the smaller man spoke.
“What are you two talking about?” Keith asked, a hint of resentment in his voice at being left out. Billy realized he had to stop thinking about Keith as helpless, or just as their charge to protect. He was a person in his own right. One that had already born great pain and hardship with amazing strength and courage.
Pil touched Keith’ cheek. “Nothing, Baby Bear. Billy just worries. We’re fine.”
Keith stopped in the street.
“You just called me ‘Baby Bear.’ The way Richard does.”
Pil looked shocked, realizing that he did. “I’m… Sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to. I’m not sure why I said that.”
Keith took the man’s big hand. “Maybe Richard left a little of himself in you,” Keith said.
For the first time since he had met Richard’s husband, Billy saw him smile. The two men stood looking into each other’s eyes for several heartbeats before they knew it was time to move on. They continued down 3rd Avenue.
We really know so little about possession, Billy thought. Perhaps Keith’s right. Maybe Richard left more of himself in Pil than either of them will ever know. It was a comforting thought, but then what it implied made a chill run up Billy’s spine.
How much of Justin might still be in Howard Gunderson?
Despite the sounds of the birds and the lightness in the air, the surrounding devastation only grew as they got further from Richard and Keith’s house. There were two more bodies in that first block, and four on the next. In his mind, Billy did the math. If there were two or more bodies on every block throughout this city, the death toll would already be in the tens of thousands. Probably the hundreds of thousands.
On the corner before Pil’s house, they saw a burning body in the middle of the street, with what looked like a missionary boy, sitting calmly two feet away. The boy’s white shirt and black plastic name tag were stained with blood, and he was staring numbly and watching the body burn, an empty gas can lying on its side next to him. Strangely, a big orange cat crouched beside the boy’s knee, tail flicking and eyes locked on the approaching trio. Billy could hear the guttural growl, as if the cat was warning them not to approach. But the boy seemed oblivious. They didn’t know if he was possessed, or just numbly watching a loved one burn. But they decided to stay safe and detour around the block.
Just past the final intersection, before reaching Pil and Michelle’s house, a pack of a dozen dogs suddenly appeared. They didn’t look feral, and Billy knew at once that they were not dangerous. But they looked panicked, and they hung together in a pack much tighter than any normal group of animals would ever form. They raced past the trio, making a wide berth around their ankles. They did not bark, and Billy felt they were only going as fast as the slowest member of their pack—a dachshund, which was panting furiously as its short legs tried desperately to keep pace. The trio watched the dogs, and each one gave them a sad glance as they passed. But they did not linger. They continued to race to the west, and none of them looked back.
“I think they know the way out too,” Keith said, as the dogs disappeared up the street. “I hope they make it.”
Finally, a half block later, Pil drew up to a sidewalk and stopped. He and Keith stared at a house on their left.
“Is this it?” Billy asked. “Are we here?”
Pil was silent. But Keith said, quietly, “Pil, the car…”
There was a halo of smashed window glass on the street.
“Big Bird is gone,” Pil said.
The Last Handful of Clover is a supernatural thriller by Wess Mongo Jolley. Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying this story, please consider supporting the author on Patreon.
For more information (including maps of the story’s world and a contact form) visit the author’s website.
To read previous chapters of this book, go to the Table of Contents page.
If you’re interested in listening to the book, rather than reading it, the audiobook is available at the Patreon link above, and also as a podcast on iTunes, Stitcher, Anchor, and all other podcast platforms. Visit the podcast page for more details.
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