Death's Rulebook

Chapter 7; It's alive! (sort of)

"What do you mean he's there? I know he's there, you showed him to me, like an hour ago!" I raised my voice, the traffic, and Mason's obscene road rage doing nothing to relieve my frustration. Mrs. Kowalski was blubbering on the other end, hungrily gulping for air.

"No, no, no, sweetheart, ya don't understand, he's downstairs, he's..." she whimpered, choking on her words.

"What are you talking about?!" I growled, just as Mason swerved.

"Jesus!"

"Suck my tits, you smug asshole!" Mason shrieked through the half-cracked window, "Tell that Dolly Parton reject to quit spitting nonsense and tell us what's going on?"

"Sorry about that Mrs. Kowalski."

"Oh my lord, oh my lord, he's comin'!" Hysterical tears made her voice break.

"What? Who's coming?"

I jerked at the scream that erupted in the background.

"What was that?!" I demanded.

"Oh my god! Ronnie!" she shrieked, as another crash reverberated in the distance.

"Hello?! Mrs. Kowalski?! What's happening?! Hello?!"

The world went dark when a papery whisper echoed on the other end.

"Help me..."

I jumped when the line violently cut off in a gurgle of background noise. After that, stone-cold silence.

"Hello? Hello?!" I repeated, even though I knew I wasn't going to get an answer.

"What, what is it?" Mason roared, overriding the distant screams of air horns.

I shot him a look. "We need to step on it. Like now."

Though we broke several traffic laws, it still felt like it took us forever to get to the funeral parlor. No sooner had Mason's tires screeched to a halt than I was at the front door, my hand ready to tear it open. I wish I'd waited, and mentally prepared myself.

"Holy shit..." Mason whispered behind me. His gaze was locked onto the ruins of what was once the Kowalski's horrendous, cat lady paradise. From the entrance, all the way through to the living room, down to the disproportionately tiny kitchen, the entire house was in ruins. Broken lamps, torn drapes, tables turned over, bits and pieces of smashed cat figurines littering every surface; the entire place looked like it had been defaced by a wild animal.

"Mrs. Kowalski?" I called out. No answer.

I skipped over a broken lamp, passing the chaos in the living room to enter the kitchen. Every inch of tile was slathered in bits of leftover food and broken cutlery. So far, there was no sign of any kind of substance resembling blood.

"Mrs. Kowalski?!" I called out again, Mason at my heels.

"V, maybe we shouldn't be in here..."

His words died on his lips when a loud bang sounded behind us. Our heads snapped in the direction of the elevator embedded in the base of the staircase. It's doors stood open, the lights inside it flickering, on the verge of going out.

I was moving before Mason could stop me.

Surprisingly, the sanitary hallways of the underground parlor seemed untouched. I marched past what I believed was Mr. Kowalski's office, instinctively stopping just outside the double-ended metal door. A strange feeling of weightlessness settled over me. My right hand hovering just above the handle shook. Mason appeared at my side again, surprisingly assuming the role of the voice of reason for a change.