Death Rhythm by Joel Arnold Read Free Book Online Page A

a short distance in front of his head, shielding off the lingering branches. His other hand fended off the low branches and brush that made a beeline for his crotch. Walking was difficult, picking up his feet in slow, exaggerated steps to avoid tripping. His eyes strained to make out the solid shape of Mae’s house, but they only focused on more branches.
    A flashlight would be useful at this point, he thought.
    He trudged on.
    A strange smell began filling the air around him. At first, it came in separate whiffs, but as he continued his tedious walk forward, high stepping, knocking away branches, it grew stronger. Rancid.
    Andy wrinkled his nose. His stomach churned. It smelled like the dumpsters outside of a restaurant he'd worked at in Milwaukee. Rancid, like when the leftover steak and chicken had been thrown out on a hot day, the sun turning it rotten, infested with maggots. The bums even stayed clear of that.
    He tried not to breath too deeply.
    Must be some animal, he thought. A squirrel or rabbit crawled over here to die.
    Then he heard a voice cry out in the distance.
    “Holden!”
    And again –
    “Holden!”
    It was Mae.
    He continued groping his way forward, reaching out into the darkness, following the direction of Mae’s voice, hoping the black canopy above would dissipate into the panorama of stars he'd seen in the graveyard. Dissipate into the open air, the fresh, sweet smelling open air.
    The smell only grew worse.
    Mae’s voice no longer called out.
    “Jesus,” Andy said, fighting back the urge to gag. He was dizzy from holding back his breath. His hand bumped into something. It gave way as soon as he touched it, but came back softly, thumping into his hand once again, like a soft punching bag. The branch creaked as it swung away, then back again, brushing his hand. Andy jerked away, shuddering. He tried to focus.
    The branch creaked again, softer this time, as the pendulum-like movement of the thing slowed down. Andy’s nose told him that this was where the smell came from. He put a hand up to his mouth to stifle a gag. He wanted to run, get into the fresh air, but he couldn’t help watching the object swing back and forth in the breeze.
    It was about a foot and a half long, with a rope tied around its mid-section. The rope rose a foot, where it was tied to the creaking branch.
    The creature was dead, of that Andy was sure.
    There was something else wrong with the creature, he noticed. Something about its shape. Andy’s eyes strained against their sockets, trying to adjust to the dark. Something was out of place.
    The creature slowed to a stop.
    Andy reached out to touch it.
    As his hand cautiously traced over its form, he felt a large patch of moisture. He jerked his hand away in disgust, felt the gorge rise in his stomach.
    The thing hanging in the tree was only a torso and legs. Its head was missing. Andy’s hand had swept across the gaping hole of its neck.
    His stomach twisted. He felt the base of his throat expand.
    Part of the thing seemed to be bald. Or shaven. There was a patch Andy touched that was absent of fur, only a prickly stubble.
    He remembered the sheriff’s story about Mae’s cat.
    Well, Mae, he thought. I found your cat.
    He wiped his hands on his pants in disgust, sickened at having touched the thing. He had to get away from here. His head spun. It took all his willpower to keep from vomiting.
    Some really sick kids must live around here, he thought.
    He decided to come back in the morning to bury it. No need to scare Mae about it. But right now, he had to get away from the stench.
    He shivered again. Took a step forward. His foot tripped on the root of a tree. He fell forward, hands splayed out to stop the fall. His body twisted and turned and landed on its side. One hand knocked into a tree, the other landed on a fallen branch and was scraped by the rough bark. A dull ache spread over them. His whole body began to ache, and he gasped for breath. He cursed, trying to pull