The Testimony of Jacob Hollow
by Joe Joiner
Chapter 3
Best Laid Plans
I don't think I have ever seen any person as pale as Timothy. His complexion was pasty and dotted with acne, and behind the coke-bottle lenses of his glasses his startling green orbs made him resemble an amusement park caricature. His scrawny frame made his clothes look as if they were hanging on the rack instead of actually being worn by someone with any kind of muscle tone. All he needed was a pocket protector and a slide rule to complete the image. This kid had been the subject of many a schoolyard beating in his academic career, of that I was sure. To top it all off, he stank to high heaven. How Nikki could keep holding him was a feat of endurance I would have failed. It wasn't body odor, although the scent of fear coming off him in waves couldn't be missed, it was more like he'd been bathing in a garbage can. There was also a lingering aroma of decay around him, as if he had fallen into the remains of a dead animal. You know the smell, kind of sickly sweet and moldy at the same time. As it turned out, my assumption was almost dead on.
While he spoke his eyes darted around the room, never pausing on any one face very long, and always coming back to rest on Nikki's. Puppy love is a pretty easy disease to spot, and he had a bad case of it. When he looked at Nikki it was with an expression of absolute devotion and loyalty. I didn't say so, but if anything were to threaten Nikki, I was certain the kid would die trying to protect her. If Nikki was aware of his affection, she was wise enough not to acknowledge it and spare him any embarrassment. His efforts to avoid looking at Troy and Hank were almost comical, and those glances directed at me were curious and uncertain.
I didn't like him.
For some reason I couldn't put my finger on, and still can't, the kid creeped me out. Despite being the epitome of every nerd and geek stereotype, he was just a kid trying to survive in a dangerous situation, and his sole comfort and protection was a group of adults that he was aware thought very little of him. They protected him and allowed him to tag along because it's human nature to shelter the young, but that didn't mean they had to like him, and you could tell that Nikki was really the only one that really gave a damn about him.
I could elaborate and tell you exactly what he told the group about his little nighttime adventure which culminated in the execution of the meanest dog I'd ever encountered, but to paraphrase it, Timmy spent the entire night moving from one hiding place to the next, always just one step ahead of the next critter. After getting separated from the group, he stumbled around in the darkness counting every second and trying to avoid being out in the open. Most of the night was passed in a dumpster behind the motel, which explained part of the smell. He had planned on staying there until dawn, which was when all the really big nasties went into hiding, but eventually a particularly bad smell got to him. He had a small penlight that he was using to occasionally drive back the darkness, and he clicked it on to look around what he was buried in. For an hour he carefully shifted boxes and papers to avoid making any detectable sound, and finally uncovered the source of the smell.
The corpse had been cooking for several days inside the warmth and dampness of the dumpster, and the results were rather unpleasant. Whether it had been a man or a woman he couldn't tell, but it was grotesquely swollen with gasses and had turned a hideous shade of mottled yellow and purple. He sprayed it with a huge gush of vomit and scrambled out of the dumpster, terrified in a way none of us could imagine. Think about it. You've been hiding in this tight, smelly box for most of the night, stealing infrequent catnaps next to a rotting body. God, it's the stuff of nightmares. I get the willies just thinking about it. Of course, the reek of the corpse was most likely what kept any would be predators from finding him.
He left the dumpster just as the day was dawning. Good thing for him, or he would have got nailed right away. Troy told me that the fog was always thick at night as the barrier around the town filled in the gaping hole in its center. It wasn't as thick, but it was just as deadly. If he had tried to get to the station while the fog still had the town in its misty grip, he would never have made it.
Like before, he ducked from hiding place to hiding place, never staying in any of them longer than a few minutes, just long enough to see if the way was clear to the next one. He made it as far as the town square just as Jenny and I were making our introductions to the rest of the group. The Hound had come out from behind a parked car and spotted him crouched in the bushes. If not for the scraping of its claws on the street he would never have heard it coming. He got one good look at the beast and took off, leading it right down our throats.
I couldn't tell if Troy believed the story or not. In any case, he readily dismissed Timmy from his mind to focus on the problem at hand, mainly, what to do next. We were all watching him expectantly, waiting for him to provide us with the answers we all needed.
Winston broke the silence by clearing his throat. Once he had everyone's undivided attention, he spoke with a soft academic tone. "It seems we've been too single-minded in our purpose." I saw then that of the entire group, he was remarkably clean. His clothes still had that freshly pressed look to them, even though he'd been wearing them for days. I attributed this to his fastidious nature, which was readily apparent to even the casual observer. "Perhaps instead of fighting the obvious, we should seek out the hidden."
Hank gaped at him and spoke for all of us with a single syllable. "Huh?"
Winston stood up and brushed the front of the sweater vest he wore, and then straightened his bow tie. "We have spent the last few days running and hiding from various creatures, insane individuals and impossible situations. We've lost members of our group every day, and it's only a matter of time before we all succumb to the evil in the town."
"What are you saying, Winston?" I thought Troy was angry, but a closer examination of his expression revealed that he was listening carefully and may have even realized what El Professor was talking about and just wanted him to say it so the rest of us could understand him. Hell, even I was confused.
Holcroft tipped him a respectful nod and went on. "We already know the answers, but we are ignorant of the questions, save one. What happened in Castle Bay?"
Nikki looked up. "You think we should investigate and find out how all this happened, don't you?"
"Very good, my dear. You understand completely." His answer was so full of conceit and condescension I could have smacked him. "Indeed, in finding the source of the problem we could possibly end the entire matter."
"We could also end up dead. I'm not a detective, Winston."
"Nor am I," he replied with the slightest shrug. "Yet it seems that even if we do not try to solve the puzzle we end up dead anyway."
"Good point," Troy said. "I would rather be doing something other than just sitting here waiting for the next attack. Any objections?"
No one said anything. It was obvious that they would do whatever he did. He shouldered his rifle and looked around. "I'm in, Winston," he said. "Now, where's our first stop on the road to discovery?"
Jenny had been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. The Hound had beaten down some of her skepticism, and she had been almost too quiet. Now she spoke. "My uncle's house," she said.
"What about it?" Troy asked.
"Uncle Rob spent the last few years researching the occult. He might have the answers we need. If he's still alive, that is."
Nikki untangled herself from Timothy and stood up. "Would your uncle be Robert Ripley?"
Jenny's eyes bored into hers. "Yes. Is that a problem?" Her narrowed eyes dared Nikki to make it one.
"Not really. I met him once, and he seemed nice, if a little distracted. I remembered he had a niece off in college, and you're the right age." She turned to the rest of us. "He's also the town mortician and the local lunatic."
Jenny was off the wall and in Nikki's face in an instant. "Want to say that again, you bitch?"
Nikki regarded her calmly. "Just stating what I've been told. Like I said, he seemed nice to me. A bit eccentric maybe, but still nice." She gave Jenny a look totally without fear. "Now, please back off."
It might have come to a real catfight then if Troy hadn't stepped between the two of them. "We don't need this shit," he barked. "Fighting amongst ourselves only helps those things out there. Now both of you back down."
Nikki impressed me. I would have cringed like a whipped dog if Jenny had gotten in my face like that. Really strong women intimidated me. Nikki was also strong, but I sensed she had a more compassionate nature. I wondered what she was doing in Castle Bay, and how she had ended up with these people.
They backed away from each other, each never taking her eyes off the other. Jenny appeared to have forgotten that she was armed with only her knife, while Nikki had a wicked .357 Magnum tucked into her belt. While Jenny calm was a pleasant thing, I suspected being around her when she was on edge or pissed off could possibly be dangerous. I vowed not to ever say anything derogatory about Mr. Ripley in her presence, or to anyone that might tell her I was being disrespectful.
Troy took hold of her elbow and led her away, but they were close enough for me to overhear the conversation. "Do you think your uncle knew what was going on around here?" he said quietly.
She shrugged. "I'm beginning to think he did. He sent me to New York last year, and I think he did it just to get me out of town. I never really thought about his reasons until today, but I'm getting the idea he didn't like Biocyte, and was playing detective for the last few months."
"How far away is his house?"
"About a mile. Castle Bay is a small place. You're never far from anywhere around here."
He nodded. "What about your friend? Can we trust him?"
Now that made me mad. I'd done nothing to deserve his suspicions, and all he was doing was trying to separate us, checking to see if Jenny and I were together. She put that dog to rest in a hurry. To give her credit, she didn't trash me.
Too much.
"Jake's harmless," she said. "We just met this morning when he picked me up outside of town. I wouldn't want him guarding my back, but I don't think he'd hurt anybody.
Okay, she was right on both points. It still stung though. Their mutual attraction was even more obvious, even though they both seemed to be trying to hide it. The rest of the group was too absorbed in their own little conversations to notice. Hank and Winston were discussing the differences in slugs versus shot, while Nikki rocked Timothy. The jealousy I'd felt earlier returned to tap dance on my heart, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and said nothing. Yeah, it was just another bit of cowardice on my part, but you have to understand that Troy was a guy very few women would not have been attracted to. How could a guy like me compete with an ex-army Ranger?
Winston and Hank wandered over and interrupted Jenny and Troy. "Winston thinks we should go to Biocyte," Hank said with a slight slur to his drawl, and I caught a whiff of alcohol. Where had he gotten booze in a police station?
"Not to disparage your suggestion, Miss Hopper," Winston said quickly. "I think your uncle's house is an excellent suggestion. However, at Biocyte we may find other survivors like ourselves, and the facility is quite secure. The main doors are unbreakable glass and a razor-wire fence that is also electrified surrounds the entire complex. I believe we would be quite safe there."
"How do you know so much about Biocyte?" Troy asked.
Winston observed that Troy was suspicious, but in his snooty way ignored it. "I took the tour," he said softly. "Most residents did when it officially opened."
Whether Troy accepted this as truth or not wasn't clear, but he did give it some consideration. I watched Jenny watch him as she waited for him to side with the two men instead of her. She would go look for her uncle without the rest of us if that's what she had to do, and damn the consequences. Troy took the safer path. "I'd like to avoid Biocyte for now, especially after seeing that explosion there a few days ago. We'll go to Jenny's uncle's house first, then make our way to Biocyte if we can. If Ripley was looking into Biocyte, he may have found something we can use. It's also closer." He glanced out the window. "It's almost noon," he said, gauging the time by the height of the sun. "We should be able to make it in twenty minutes."
I noticed how neither Winston nor Hank argued with him. He had made a decision and they would abide by it, come good or ill. They each gave him a quick nod and left to inform the others. Personally I didn't have an opinion about where we ended up, just so long as I didn't end up there alone. My morning had gotten off to a hellish start, and I wasn't ready to fly solo against whatever was in control of the town.
I checked the remaining bullets in the clip of my .45, and was surprised to find only twelve remained. Had I fired three times on the Hound? When I tucked it back into the waistband of my jeans, I looked up to see Jenny and Troy watching me. They didn't say anything, but I could tell they wanted some privacy and I was too close. "Christ," I muttered, "why didn't you just say so?" Troy opened his mouth to respond, and I almost laughed at the guilt that flashed across his face, as if he thought he was intruding on my territory. Jenny touched his arm and his mouth snapped shut. "It's not what you think, Jake," she started to explain.
I was good and mad then, and didn't bother hiding it. "No? Jenny, for one thing, I don't care if you two do the horizontal mambo, but don't pretend that you aren't attracted to each other. Secondly, you're just a hitcher I picked up, and nothing more. Why do you think that for a minute I'd give a rat's ass about who you're attracted too?" I turned my gaze to Troy and saw that he was about to laugh, but at me or with me I couldn't say. "Good luck, buddy," I said. "You're probably going to need it." He smirked, but I saw that his opinion of me had jumped up a notch. I could live with that.
In the movies a spurned character usually manages a dignified exit from such a situation using wit or pithy words, some can even make a slammed door convey their pain to the audience. I'm no actor, and this wasn't make-believe. I simply walked away, and maybe retained a shred of my own self-respect. It was hard not to look back and see their reaction, but I managed not to.
Nikki was sitting on the couch, with Timothy's head cradled in her lap while he slept. She patted the cushion next to her and I plopped down with a sigh, and then wrinkled my nose. "Wow, does he ever need a hosing off."
She chirped laughter that warmed my frosted interior. "We'll fix him up at Ripley's," she said, gently stroking his thick blonde hair, not put off by how greasy it was. "I feel sorry for him. His entire family is dead, and the group doesn't care for him much. What about you?"
Her eyes were sad, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth. "I don't know him well enough to have an opinion. Sorry."
She patted the back of my hand and gave me a pensive smile. "You don't have to lie, but thank you."
I didn't understand why she was so attached to him, and said so. She ran her hand through her luxurious hair. It had to have been days she she'd washed it, but you could still smell the coconut-scented shampoo she'd used. "I used to see Timothy around town. You know, in the store, the deli, walking along the street, and he was always alone. It was like he didn't have any friends at all. I felt so sorry for him, so I tried to talk to him a few times. At first he would just grunt and keep walking, but after awhile he started talking to me, and we got to know each other. He's really a very nice boy."
"I'm sure he is," I remarked, but couldn't imagine myself ever taking to the kid the way she had. There was just something about him that made my skin crawl.
"Does he know for sure that his family is dead?"
She glanced down to see if he was listening before speaking. "Yes, he came home and found his father's body in the living room, and what was left of his mother was on the floor in the kitchen. She was half eaten, but he didn't see what did it. We found him a few days ago hiding in the attic of the house. He was scared, hungry and probably close to losing his mind. I think that's why he makes them uncomfortable. He's a reminder of what could happen to any of us."
"Could be," I mused. "I'd keep him away from Troy and Hank though."
"Yes," she agreed. "I do try. Josh would pick on him if I didn't make him keep his distance, and Winston seems to tolerate him better than the rest, but he makes Timothy nervous."
"Winston reminds me of my high school science teacher," I said with a chuckle. "He would only give the nerds the higher grades."
She smiled but didn't laugh, so as not to disturb the sleeping youth. "That's probably it, but it would surprise me if it was. He's has a brilliant mind, so you would think his teachers would encourage and support him, and he wouldn't be threatened."
"True, but I get the impression that he's one of those people that others don't like, for reasons even they don't know. I've met a few of them."
"I have too, but for one so young." her voice trailed off and then she turned those luscious dark eyes on me. "You're very nice," she said suddenly.
"Thanks," I gulped, all at once very aware of her scent, which was musky and very feminine; and of the warmth of her arm touching mine.
"Don't let her get to you, she's already made her choice."
I jumped like I had been goosed. "What are you talking about?"
She hissed laughter through her teeth. "Your friend Jenny. I can see how much you like her, and that it's not reciprocated. A woman can always tell, and it's very clear that she's drawn to Troy. Not that I blame her, he's rather handsome."
I grinned. "You're not jealous, are you?"
She laughed, a little louder this time, and Timothy murmured in his sleep. She lowered her voice. "Heavens, no," she said. "Troy is much to intense for me, Hank is too old, and Winston too bookish."
"And me?"
She reached up and lightly touched my cheek, sending tingles coursing through my entire body "You're cute," she cooed.
"What about Joshua?"
The smile she gave me was positively malicious. "He tried to crawl into my sleeping bag two nights ago and cop a feel."
This I had to hear. "And?"
"Bullies and boys with overactive glands tend to squeal when you knee them in their soft parts."
I roared laughter. I couldn't help myself. Timothy woke up fast, scrambling for his bat and for Nikki at the same time. The rest of them just stared at me. Joshua was glaring, as if he knew what I'd just been told. That made me laugh even harder, and there was no hiding the anger and dismay he directed at Nikki.
The group quickly gathered up what few things needed to be brought along, mostly food, some backpacks of clothing, and their weapons. They had already taken what guns and ammunition remained in the station.
While Jenny shrugged on her backpack, I took Troy aside. "Did you find anything useful here? I mean, the police are supposed to be the authority figures in any town, they're supposed to know everything, right?"
He shook his head. "All we found was a corpse." He smirked as I flinched. "A few hours before the Biocyte explosion the sheriff picked up a drunk on the highway. There wasn't much left for us to find, not of his body anyway. The cell looks like it's been painted with blood. Want to see?"
I declined the offer as we grouped together at the door. Joshua took obvious pains to avoid coming near me, and Timothy grasped Nikki's hand in a death grip. Jenny took position next to Troy, which was no surprise, and Nikki shot me a look of amusement. I felt immensely better having one person on my side.
Troy opened the door and led us outside.
The heat struck hard after the cool dimness of the police station. The sun was at its peak directly overhead and bore down mercilessly. The unnatural brightness was staggering, and everyone was squinting. "Holy crow," Hank explained. "Worse than yesterday."
"Alright, people, quick step now, and keep up. If you get separated from the group you'll end up dead or worse. So let's hustle. Which way, Jenny?"
She pointed west, and we actually took three or four steps when we heard the laughter and everyone froze.
It wasn't a good kind of laughter either. Nothing like the soul cleansing guffaws I had enjoyed moments earlier. This seemed strained, forced, eerie. Everyone was looking at each other with that "What the hell?" expression. It was coming from over where the cruiser was parked by the garage.
Troy was deciding whether or not to investigate. After a moment's consideration, he made the decision. "Hank, stay with the group and keep sharp. Winston, you and Jake come with me. Let's see who's over there."
"Why me?" I asked.
Troy just gave me a withering stare, so I shrugged and stepped away from the group. Did he think he was fooling me? He just wanted me away from Jenny.
We started off and Joshua followed. "I want to see what it is," he called with false bravado. Troy rounded on him. "Get back with the group, now!" Pouting, the teenager backed up fast. "Damn kid," Troy growled as we set off again.
That piqued my curiosity. "Problem child?" I asked.
Winston answered instead. "The young man likes to talk big while he swaggers around, but like most pubescent males his age, he lacks a certain level of maturity that could be of benefit to us. He refuses to carry any weapons, and tends to jump at shadows. I imagine he was the bane of many an instructor, but Mr. Williams here has shown admirable restraint when dealing with him."
"Little jerk is gonna get knocked on his ass pretty soon," Troy growled. I didn't feel much sympathy for Joshua. He had one of those personalities that just grated on your nerves, and I had been the target of his kind in school until I got some growth.
We approached the back of the car slowly, guns drawn and ready to fire. Winston carried a snub .32 caliber with a pearl handle that was every bit as prissy as he was. Not good for distant shooting, but effective at close range. Troy's semi-auto was leading the way, since he could knock several big holes into anything that bothered us well before Winston or I could get off a single round.
The laughing was loudest near the car, and was coming from the ground on the passenger side. Troy crouched down by the bumper and we followed his lead. Cautiously he peeked around the fender. "Oh shit," he said.
Winston and I exchanged a glance. "What is it, Mr. Williams?"
Troy stood up and walked around the car. We went with him and I got my third nasty shock of the day.
The thing on the ground had once been human. Now it was a wretched parody of what had been a man. And it was laughing. A maddening series of chortles that lacked any real humor. He had been a deputy, which was easily determined by the remains of his uniform and the flak jacket he still wore. Now he was a thing delivered to us from a nightmare. Only his head and right arm remained attached to the torso. The rest of his limbs had been cruelly ripped from his body and left lying nearby. The pool of blood under him had had time enough to dry out completely, and we could see the marks in it where he had been writhing for some time. Winston backed away. "Oh dear," he mumbled. "Officer Bailey. what.?"
I was stunned into inaction. All I could do was stare at the remains of a man who had suffered unspeakable savagery, and was still suffering. That he could still be alive was unthinkable. No human being could survive such injuries and continue to breathe, but he was. This was more work of the supernatural. My lunch sat like a rock in my gut. Even after he'd been bled bone dry, he never stopped cackling. We finally had to waste a bullet on him. Troy was the only one of us strong enough to do it, and then only after we all heard the words, "Kill me," among the insane giggles. Troy stepped up and put the barrel of the rifle to Bailey's temple and pulled the trigger. At such close range the effect was devastating. Blood, brains and bone splattered in every direction, and the laughter cut off abruptly. Winston and I ducked back but still got sprayed a little, our shoes taking the worst of it. Troy walked back calmly, acting as if he had not just killed what was apparently a zombie. "Let's go," he said gruffly, his voice hoarse. If what he had just done troubled him at all, it was only his voice that betrayed the fact. The man's face was unreadable.
We tagged along obediently, not talking. I believe Winston was too astonished by what we had seen to comment on it, but to give the egghead credit, he hadn't blown his breakfast, and he hadn't hesitated to come along, unlike myself.
Back with our companions, Troy gave them only the briefest of explanations, and refused to elaborate when questioned. Jenny caught my eye, and she pointed to herself, and then me indicating she would like to talk about it. It gave me a large measure of satisfaction to pretend I hadn't seen her. Her eyes narrowed in anger, and she subtly flipped me the bird. Then I felt Nikki's hand touch my lower back, and I turned to see her seductive eyes staring at me questioningly. I nodded, eager to please, and finding Jenny again, saw that the anger had been replaced with cold hate. Man, I was scoring points with her by the minute.
Troy conferred with Jenny, and we started off, crossing Main and cutting through the town square at a trot. Anybody with a weapon had it out and ready to shoot. I remember thinking that if anybody were to trip it would set off a chain reaction where we would probably do more damage to ourselves than anything else. Once past the square we turned left onto Gardner Terrace and went north two blocks. I'm certain that's when it really hit everybody that Castle Bay was dead. Not just dead in the sense that there weren't any people to be seen or heard, but that the town had literally died. It was now just a festering corpse, and the horrors we had seen so far were the putrescence exuding from the ruin.
The neighborhood we passed through was as picturesque as one of those cheesy postcards you find in the mom and pop shops in the New England coastal towns, but still very nice. You could almost imagine the families that had lived in them, the love and laughter that had filled the hallways and rooms, the hopes of parents for the future of their children, all cruelly silenced by the evil that had swept away everything good and pure. It was enough to make Nikki weep silently. She furiously wiped away the tears that moved down her cheeks. Seeing that I had noticed, she reached out and took my hand in hers and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. She would be all right, but thank God there was someone with us that had some empathy. I began to consider my companions, to try and figure them out. Anything to take my mind off how soft and smooth her hand was.
There was no doubt about who should lead. Troy had the military training and the attitude to command, and everyone deferred to him without question. He was a hard man, but brave, and if the situation arose he would sacrifice himself to save another.
By all accounts Hank was second in command. He took orders from Troy but was strong enough to make his own decisions when necessary. He took a quick nip from a pocket flask while we walked, so that was one mystery solved. I'd seen my own father fall victim to alcoholism, so I had little tolerance for boozers. I decided not to depend on Hank for anything.
As I already said, Joshua was a high school athlete, or so one would guess by the letterman's jacket he wore like a medal. He was tall and flaxen haired, and was a typical specimen of the class jock. His boyish attitude was probably attractive to the girls his age, but among a group of adults it was annoying. I sensed that he was the type to hold a grudge, and that I would have to be careful around him. He was too bouncy, a ball of uncontained energy. The way his eyes darted around reminded me of a rabbit on the lookout for a predator.
I was still undecided on Winston. On one hand he seemed solid enough, but there was just an aura about him I couldn't trust. Something told me he knew more about what was going on in Castle Bay than he let on. He struck me as the type of man a place like Biocyte might employ, but on the other, he could just be a teacher. But then wouldn't Josh know him better, and vice-versa?
If Jenny was the embodiment of womanhood that every man yearns for, then Nikki was everything we never knew we wanted. Beneath the soft feminine exterior she was probably every bit as strong as Troy, and intelligent as well. The attraction I had initially felt for Jenny was fading rapidly, and Nikki's unabashed flirting was certainly getting my attention. Whether she was truly attracted to me or was just using her looks and wiles to gain a protector I couldn't say for sure, not yet. I was willing to play along. If we survived it would be interesting to see what developed.
If we survived, and that was a mighty big if.
"There it is," Jenny suddenly spoke, breaking the silence and bringing the group to a halt as she pointed to a large three-story house set far back from the street. A sign on the edge of a sculpted expanse of lawn (now overgrown and going to seed) declared it to be the Castle Bay House of Rest - Robert Ripley, Mortician.
What went through my mind was what it must have been like growing up in such a place. The house was easily the largest one I'd seen so far, probably the largest in town; and painted a shade of white so bright it was glaring in the sunlight, with the reflections from the many windows making it painful to look at directly. It sat on several acres of prime real estate, most of which was parking lot. Two hearses, one black, the other white; were parked in spaces marked RESERVED on the east side of the building. The large double doors on the front porch were a deep stained mahogany and brilliantly carved with images of clouds and cherubs.
The house was huge, beautiful, and eerie as hell. I didn't know about the rest of them, but I sure as hell didn't want to go in there, no matter how serene it appeared to be.
"Looks quiet," Troy said, his eyes absorbing every detail of the house and the surrounding area. His well-trained eyes would see things that the rest of us would most likely miss.
"Nobody's been here for a long time," Hank commented as he looked around, his shotgun held at waist-level and his finger on the triggers. "I don't like this place," he said, saying aloud what the rest of us were thinking.
Jenny gave him a disgusted look. "Let's get inside," she said. "I don't like being out in the open." On that we all agreed, and Troy set the pace as we jogged across the wide front lawn.
I didn't say so, but I was with Hank. I really did not want to go inside. Instinct was telling me we weren't going to like what we found.