Bobby’s Cage

Little Bobby laid on the bottom of his cage, the cement floor was so cold. He knew he was going to die, there was no two ways about it. His stomach had stopped hurting, his body was numb, and there was no longer that wicked smell in the air. At first, he fought against the cold, trying desperately to reach into the cage next to him where there was still a small ragged blanket left behind by the previous occupant, but it ended up just a waste of time and energy. Still, at that time, he felt he had to try. Now, curled into a ball on the floor of his cage he no longer feared the cold, it was comforting, taking away all his pain. It would all be over soon.

At the age of seven his life was ending, thank god, he thought. It had been a nightmare filled with pain, hunger, and abuse. “Please, let this be the end,” he murmured. If only the world for him could have been different, surly this was not all there was. Gently the will to fight was fading, gliding away with the crisp fall breeze. There was something after this life, he knew this to be a fact, Richie had told him so. If only he was here now, to help him travel from this world to the next. He thought one more time of concentrating, putting all his will to the lock, focusing with all his might to open it and have it fall to the ground. But even if this miracle was to occur he knew it would be in vain, he was too weak to walk, little lone climb the basement steps and bust open the locked door at the top. No, it was best the cold take him, better to embrace the end.

For just an instant, he thought he could hear footsteps in the room above him, he listened intensely for the longest time but there was no further sound. Maybe he was dreaming, maybe he was traveling to that other place and the sound came from the world beyond. There was no one from this world alive in the house, of that he was sure. Then it came again, the sound of footsteps above him, just his imagination he thought, his mind hearing what it wanted to hear. Reluctantly he closed his eyes and waited for the end.

CHAPTER I

HOUSE OF TERRORS

JACKSON MI. OCTOBER 20TH, 1998

Captain Hazel Mae Cowan did not like the way the day was turning out. True the fall weather was amazing, chilly nights highlighted by somewhat warm days. Jackson’s tree lined streets were alive with color, all the trees seemed to be peaking at once. No, this was a sensation she had in the pit of her stomach. She had been promoted to captain of the Jackson City Police Department exactly one year ago, to the day, and somehow, she just knew her first year on the job was just too damn easy. As she made the turn on to Grinnell Street she reached over to grab her coffee mug, but it was not there. Looking over she witnessed Chief Detective Vinnie Moretti putting something in his mouth and taking a sip from her mug.

“Vinnie, really.” Hazel said

“What, I need to take my morning pill, I have a bad thyroid,” responded Vinnie.

“With my cup?”

“Oh, what’s the big deal, I don’t have cooties you know,” he said with a smile.

“Have you ever heard of asking first?” she said sarcastically.

Vinnie grinned, “Please may I take a small sip of your precious coffee, which by the way is cold as shit.”

“No, now put my cup back down,” said Hazel “you can be such an asshole sometimes.”