Scratch by Brian Keene Read Free Book Online Page B

door and flung it open. Then I carefully made my way to the side of the house and peered around the corner. Scratch was slithering towards the creek, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His tail thrashed in anger or pain—or both. Between me and him were two Hellam Township EMTs, a Pennsylvania State Trooper, and four volunteer firemen from the Craley firehouse, and one from East Prospect. I recognized their uniforms, and wondered why there were emergency respondents from different townships and boroughs. I found out later that much of York County had flooded, and dispatchers were answering calls by sending whoever was available. I didn’t know if they were there through coincidence or if Marlena had gotten through on the cell phone. It didn’t matter. All of them were pointing at the snake, staring at him in disbelief. I knew how they felt. I’d reacted that way too, at first. It seemed like a million years ago now.  
    “I need help,” I called, and when they didn’t hear me, I raised my voice and tried again. A few of them turned, their eyes darting warily to the gun in my hand. The State Trooper, who had been aiming his firearm at Old Scratch, spun around and leveled it at me instead. I let the Taurus fall to the ground and raised my hands.  
    “Please,” I said. “Don’t shoot! I need help. My neighbor is hurt.”  
    They rushed to me, still throwing backward glances over their shoulders as Scratch plunged into the rushing floodwaters. One of the EMTs told me to sit down, but I refused, insisting that they check on Jeff first.  
    “What the hell was that thing?” One of the firemen gaped at the creek, watching the serpentine form slide beneath the waves. I followed his gaze, and felt the blood rush from my head. My breath hitched in my chest.  
    “Take it easy,” the EMT said. “You’re in shock. I don’t blame you. I would be too, after seeing that snake.”  
    The fog had lifted, and on the other side of the creek, I saw Dylan running through the yard, heading towards the flooded stream. Marlena and Sanchez chased after him, but Dylan had a good head start.  
    Scratch paused. His head broke the water, and then turned towards our side of the bank, watching my son. Dylan drew closer. The snake changed course.  
    “Get back,” I screamed, knowing full well that Dylan couldn’t hear me over the roar of the flood. “Dylan, get away from there!”  
    The rescue crew all turned back towards the creek. Their eyes widened as they saw what I saw.  
    Scratch’s tail splashed the water, sending a plume into the sky.  
    The State Trooper fired a round. I heard a second gunshot go off next to me. I glanced down and was surprised to find the Taurus in my hand again. The final shot had been my own.  
    Then I collapsed, falling face first into a puddle, and knew no more.

                   

    That was a year ago. Another spring has come around, making it all seem fresh again. In truth, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about it. There are times where I simply want to start screaming, but I’m afraid that if I start, I’ll never be able to stop. Scratch vanished with me and the State Trooper’s final bullets. We don’t know if we killed it or not. All we know is that the snake ducked beneath the surface and didn’t come back up. There were ten witnesses—me, Jeff, and the emergency response crews. Thankfully, Dylan and Marlena had been too far away from the stream to catch a glimpse of the creature. That’s saved them innumerable bad dreams.  
    I have the nightmares so that they don’t have to.  
    I don’t know how they did it, but the cops and the firemen managed to keep the whole thing out of the paper. The York Daily Record and the York Dispatch ran a story simply stating that Thena and her children died in the flood. It didn’t say how they died. I didn’t tell anybody, including Marlena. I couldn’t bring myself to. How would she ever feel safe again if I