Free Popcorn Thief by Leah Cutter Page A

glared at Franklin and pawed at the ground. Oh
hell. Was it even angrier because Franklin had some of her lard on him?
    A crashing noise came from the side. Darryl came out of the
trees, wearing dark jeans and a bright orange T-shirt.
    Darryl looked at Franklin, then at the spot Franklin stared
at. “You got that crazy look on you. What the hell are you seeing?”
    “A sow. One I slaughtered this spring. Sweet Bess.” Franklin
edged closer to Darryl, as if that might stop the sow from ramming him.
    “That monster? I remember her.” Darryl said. He gave a low
whistle. “So what can she do to you?”
    “She’s run at me before,” Franklin admitted. “And when a
spirit or a ghost goes through you—” He stopped and shuddered. It’d take
him at least a day to recover.
    “How about I go through it?” Darryl said. He walked forward,
straight through Sweet Bess.
    The spirit disappeared.
    “Did you feel anything? Franklin asked, surprised.
    Darryl gave a quick shake of his shoulders. “Naw, not
really. Just—like I was passing through an extra shadow, you know?”
    “Thank you,” Franklin said, leaning his bike against
Darryl’s truck. It should be safe there.
    “How bad is it, do you think?” Darryl asked, pointing toward
the cabin with his chin.
    “Pretty bad,” Franklin said. He wasn’t about to admit he’d
already seen it.
    “Let’s go,” Darryl said, striding off toward the cabin.
    Franklin followed, also curious. They ducked under the
yellow tape across the driveway and approached the cabin, which sat still and
empty. The front window was still dark, and now, from outside, Franklin heard
the flies buzzing.
    Darryl paused and put his hands up against the glass to see
better. “Jesus,” he muttered.
    Franklin walked around the side of the cabin, to see in through
the blown-out window. The cops hadn’t covered it up, and it framed the scene
with fragments of broken glass around the edges.
    The police had moved the couch, probably to get a stretcher
in, for the bodies. Blood lay dark and heavy on the floor. None of the cobs of
corn remained—Franklin figured they’d been taken into evidence. Paper and
glass still lay strewn in a spiral pattern.
    “That’s just messed up,” Darryl said, coming to stand beside
Franklin. “You think she fought back?”
    “With everything she had,” Franklin said. But it was hard to
fight something you couldn’t see.
    “Let’s get this bastard,” Darryl said grimly. He turned and
headed back to the truck.
    “We’ll find whatever did this,” Franklin promised. Though
that was also his fear.
    * * *
    Darryl hauled a backpack from the bed of his black pickup truck.
“Here,” he said, thrusting it at Franklin.
    The weight of the bag surprised Franklin. “What the hell you
got in this thing?”
    “Extra ammo, water, energy bars, emergency kit, like that.”
Darryl hauled out a second backpack that was similarly packed. From under the
seats of the front cabin, he pulled out two shotguns. “Have you shot one of
these before?” Darryl asked.
    Franklin held it up and looked it over. “They’re like the
ones we used when we went hunting with your dad.” The shotgun had the safety on
and it wasn’t loaded.
    “These are probably the exact same ones we used as kids,”
Darryl said proudly. “They’re all clean, oiled, and in good working condition.”
    Franklin felt better that Darryl took care of his guns, took
them seriously. And also, that there wasn’t any beer or bourbon in his pack.
    “Did you see a trail of the thing in Lexine’s cabin?”
Franklin asked as they finished getting themselves ready.
    Darryl shook his head. “Don’t mean nothing, though. Needed
to get ready. As I said, just farting around don’t cut it. Got to be hunting before
any kind of trail shows up.”
    “Where do you want to start?” Franklin asked.
    “Think that thing came in the front? Or the back?” Darryl
asked in return.
    Franklin thought for a moment. “I bet it