Free Brood XIX by Michael McBride Page B

windows to limn the cicadas
on the walls. They seethed as though the plaster had begun to boil.
He had never seen so many insects in one place, let alone inside of
a house. Pistol at arm's length, elbows slightly flexed to absorb
the kick, he reached the bottom of the staircase and veered toward
the source of the light.
    The cicadas started to sing. The sound was
physically painful.
    He walked in his shooting stance, finger
tightened on the trigger, prepared to fire at the first hint of
movement.
    The entire hallway was black with bugs. The
walls. The ceiling. The partially open door at the end.
    And then the sound suddenly died.
    He heard a growl that could have been words
from slightly to his left as he slipped past the door. It looked
like a child's bedroom, only there was an eyebolt in the center of
the torn carpet attached to a length of chain. He followed it with
his eyes to where it terminated in a manacle bound around a tiny,
pale ankle. Vanessa covered the child with her body.
    Another woman reared up over his sister with
a knife in her hand.
    "Drop the knife!" he shouted.
    The woman looked over at him with a twisted
expression of rage and anguish.
    "Drop it now or I'll shoot!"
    She turned back toward his sister, who had
seized the opportunity to drag the child to the furthest reaches of
the iron tether. Vanessa still had her back to the woman, who
screamed and strode after her.
    The cicadas erupted from the walls, as though
the entire room were imploding. They flew directly at the woman,
hitting her, swarming around her. She wailed and lunged
forward.
    Trey lined up his weapon through the swirling
insects and took his shot.
    Blood spattered the far wall, climbing it in
arcs and dots.
    The woman spun and was launched backward
against the wall at the foot of the bed. She slumped down, chin
hanging to her chest. The entire left half of her shirt near her
shoulder was crimson.
    Trey could barely see her through the swarm,
which slowly dissolved. The cicadas flew straight at him. He ducked
his head against the barrage as they funneled past him down the
hallway.
    When he reached his sister, only a blue cloud
of gun smoke hung in the air.
    All of the cicadas were gone.
    Vanessa rolled over and looked up at him, her
eyes filled with tears.
    Trey kissed her on the forehead, smiled down
at his niece, and began working on the lock of the manacle.

Epilogue

     
    Vanessa stood at her kitchen window, staring
out into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around her chest to
combat a sudden chill. Emma was upstairs in her own bed, with her
own belongings, right where she was supposed to be. Buddy hadn't
left her side for a second. She had spent the past two nights in
the hospital, where specialists of all kinds had evaluated her
health, both physical and emotional. There would be hard times
ahead, they assured her. The nightmares had already begun to
torment her, and she was terrified of walking from one room to the
next, let alone setting foot outside. She broke into tears without
warning and often screamed for no reason, but whatever it took,
Vanessa would be there for her. She would never let Emma out of her
sight again.
    Sandra Matthews was in the hospital as well,
only under constant guard until she was stable enough to be
transferred to the county jail, pending her trial. At first,
Vanessa had wanted to be there, to hear the rationale behind
stealing her daughter and killing her husband. She had wanted to
know what kind of monster waited until her own daughter died,
stomped on her until she was broken to pieces, and then dumped her
in the swamp. But a part of Vanessa already knew the answers. She
had lost her daughter once, and would have done anything to get her
back. Hearing the words from Sandra's mouth would change nothing.
The two of them were more alike than Vanessa cared to admit. Even
to herself. As long as she had Emma back, she was content to let
Sandra rot in a dismal prison or asylum with only the thoughts of
her