Let us leave the hateful town
With its stale, forgotten lies
Clark Ashton Smith, Adventure
Spencer’s screams could be heard the instant the man exited Deer Tick Creek High School in a sprint, his Herpezoid-liquefying pistol aimed. The man rushed down the street trying to place from where the screams emanated. He stopped for the slightest of moments at a sewage drain on the curb close to Marshall Dunlap’s house. He quickly dismissed the notion Glen had chased Spencer underground. This provided a modicum of solace because the thought of pursuing a lizard monster into a sewer offered little to no appeal.
The man faced Marshall’s old house and wondered about its connection to the backyard of Glen’s childhood residence. Were the girls still there with Denise? He would need to tie that loose end up before this evening ended. Another Spencer scream echoed from behind the house opposite Marshall’s. The man raced into its yard before stopping at the back corner of the craftsman style home. He turned an ear toward his left, then his right. No screams to navigate him. With taser baton in one hand and his gun in the other, each gripped tightly, the man snuck through the backyard until he reached a chain link fence that stood between him and a weed-infested empty lot split by a beaten path that stretched to the back of some empty shops in what used to be downtown.
Somewhere on the other side of those shops, Spencer screamed again.
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