Deanna, Caleb

23 – I'm sure you've heard the story

Caleb Bailey had his gun out before he walked into the house. He'd parked down the street and found a way around the back that he didn't think would be spotted. The kitchen light was on but he'd seen the kid go upstairs a moment before. He locked the door behind him and cleared the first floor, locking doors and windows as he came across them. He wanted no extra places this thing could hide. He'd been practicing in his mind. This was not a kid. He was a thing. A monster. A creature. He had to be put down. It had to be put down.

He stepped carefully up the stairs. He had almost cleared the top when he tripped. A wire he'd been unable to see had caught his foot. Well, it knew he was there. He knew Caleb was in the house. There were four doors on this floor. Caleb eased open the first and peered in without turning his back on the hallway. Shutting the door, he moved to the room directly across the hall. Empty, the girl's room. The next room was a bathroom. Empty. That left the last room. There was something against the door. This wasn't going to be easy.

It took longer than he would have liked to move the dresser on the other side. He knew none of the windows had ledges on this level but he hoped the kid didn't have enough cunning to fashion a rope. He peered around the door but didn't see anything. Shoving the door open, he checked under the bed and the closet. He'd missed something. Stepping out into the hallway, he counted doors. Only four. He looked up. Attic drop door. He stepped back into the fourth room but he didn't see a door. The closet called his attention again. Nothing under the clothes. Up top, there was another hatch. He shoved a baseball bat up there and lodged it good.

When he pulled on the trap-door, he heard a squeal and someone yanked it back. The cord disappeared into the attic. Caleb pulled his hunting knife out of his pocket and tried to use it to pry the door open. He almost had it when he heard the gun cocking not far away. "You want to back up."

"I'll be quick. It'll be painless."

"If you don't back up, right now, it won't be either for you. Drop the knife."

Caleb dropped the knife and turned slowly, backing up toward the half open bedroom door. The girl was young. If it weren't for the way she was holding that gun, he'd think she was too young to know what to do with it. "Do you know what he is?"

"He's my brother. Sam?"

"I'm okay." Came the squeaky voice from above. "Closet is closed off. "

"Let me take care of it. It'll save the whole world a load of hurt." Caleb tried to split her attention.

"He's 13. He's not going to hurt anyone. He makes me take the roaches outside." Deanna stepped forward and motioned Caleb back. "Sam? Come on down."

Caleb watched as the trap door lowered and a scrawny kid scrambled down and the second he was able, he was on the other side of the ladder and behind his sister. "I'm sure you've heard the story."

"I've heard the stories they tell murderers like you."

"I'm hunter, not a murderer."

"If you're here for him, you're a murderer." Deanna shook her head, gun leveled for a chest shot. "I've heard the stories but you all don't KNOW the story. I was there. I saw it happen. It's not what any of you think."

"And what do I think, sweetheart?"

"Sam, get in the car. Dad will be here any second." Deanna didn't so much as turn her head but the kid went skidding down the stairs and out the front door. She took a breath and stared at the man in front of her. "I don't want to kill you but I will if he gets another day. We move. A lot. Because of him. Because of supposed hunters like you who want to kill him."

"So… what do I think?"

"You think he's a demon. That he's hellspawn. I was there. I saw what happened and he's okay. He's fine." She chewed on her lip but her hands didn't waver. "Supposed hunters like you… lynched my mom… because the story they heard was that my brother was the seed of a demon named Azazel."

Caleb watched the girl's face. In her face, he saw nervousness. In her body, he saw she was ready to pull the trigger. "Then tell me a story."

"When I was four, I heard a noise. Someone was standing over him. Mom pulled me away and covered my mouth. When Dad came up the stairs, she got him to stop before he passed the room. We waited. Then the man was gone. We've done every test on him. He's fine. He's perfect. He's human." She tilted her head at him. "When I was seven, six murderers broke into my house and tied my dad, they dragged her out of the house and strung her up on the tree in our front yard. I hid with my brother… my three year old brother in the attic until they gave up cause the cops were coming."

"Little girl…"

"When I was nine, we had to leave everything behind because there were 12 of them on our tail. I had to drive the car because my dad was trying to keep Sammy from hyperventilating. He almost swallowed his tongue." She licked her lips. "When I was 10, there were four of them. One of them held me down, started touching me while my dad fended off the other three who were after my six year old brother. Kid pissed himself but he got me a gun. If you're gonna kill someone, kill me. I'm the one who's a threat. I'm the one who kills people."

"Baby." John whispered as he cut the trip wire and stepped into the hallway behind her. "Who do we have?"

"I didn't ask his name."

John took a breath and looked over the young man at the end of the hallway. "I got one more story for you. Two years ago, some hunters who were looking for my boy, took my girl. She wouldn't give him up." His voice caught. "They were… special ops in a former life. Trained in torture. The things they did to my girl. Five of them, I think it was." He sniffed and laid a careful and gentle hand on his daughter's back. "Raped, beat, broken. Somehow she got loose. When I got there, she had piles of body parts all around the room. She was 15 years old. I have every confidence that she can take care of herself. She can protect her brother. She will not break again. I'm surprised she hasn't killed you, yet. She must think you're cute. My question for you… is how does this story end?"

"How?" Caleb eyed them carefully.

"How does it end? Do you try to get your gun out of your pocket and my girl shoots you? Do you decide that my 13 year old son, who had never hurt so much as a mosquito, is no longer on your list of shit to kill? Do I leave you alone with my girl and let her decide?"

"I was trying to figure out… if he looked like one of them." Deanna breathed out.

"No. You got them all. There were five heads." John looked to Caleb. "I got me a couple of teenagers with PTSD, one of them shits his pants and the other one kills. You tell me how this story ends."

"You let me go. Or… you leave and let me live and when I go home… I tell a story…" Caleb took a breath. "I tell a story about how I got the shit beat out of me by some girl whose neck I snapped. Then I tell about the boy who shit himself when I cut his head off. And about the old man who I shot in the heart when he walked in on me chopping up the bodies to burn."

"Dad…" Deanna let out a breath. "I believe him."

"Okay." John nodded. "Do we get a name, son?"

"Caleb Bailey."

"John, Deanna and Sam was the one who shit his pants in the attic." John told him. "Come on, baby, let's go."

They backed down the stairs but Caleb could hear their conversation all the way to the front door. "And I didn't think he was cute."

"I'm sure you did. He's your type… or would be if you'd start dating."

"Dad."

"We need new names. We're about to be dead."

"We can't let Sammy pick them out."

"You're right. We'll end up named after some wizard in those books he reads."

"I can't spell Hermione."

"And I can't say it."

Caleb wasn't sure he hadn't pissed his own pants. He had a very good reason to keep his word and tell the story he said he'd tell. He'd seen her eyes when John had told that last story. The man wasn't wrong about that PTSD. He'd heard a version of that story. It hadn't included Deanna at all. Folk said that Sam had mutilated all those men. That girl was fierce. Maybe in some other life, with another name, she'd be able to live the rest of her childhood… as a child. Caleb watched the big black car drive away with just the three people inside it. Then he set the house on fire.