Chapter 3 - Shadows Behind the Tarp
The backyard smelled of decay, damp earth, and stagnant water.
The manicured lawn that Sarah used to take such pride in had completely vanished, choked out by tall, aggressive weeds that tangled around David’s ankles like grasping fingers. Dead autumn leaves drifted across the neglected flagstone patio, swirling in the cold night breeze.
David stayed low, keeping close to the darkened back wall of the house. The sliding glass door leading from the kitchen into the yard was covered by a thick, light-blocking curtain. He pressed his ear against the glass. Absolute silence. No hum of the refrigerator, no sound of breathing, nothing.
He turned his gaze toward the center of the yard, where the large in-ground swimming pool sat like an open, festering wound.
The water had long since turned a murky, opaque shade of toxic green, thick with a layer of scum and rotting leaves. But it wasn't the pool that drew his immediate focus. In the far corner of the yard, pushed hard against the high wooden privacy panels, sat a massive, commercial-grade metal dog enclosure—the kind heavy enough to contain a large, aggressive mastiff.
Over the top of the structure, a heavy blue plastic tarp had been thrown to shield the interior from the weather, but the wind had partially torn it away from one corner, leaving a dark, gaping opening.
David’s heart hammered against his ribs with brutal force. He crossed the overgrown lawn in three long strides, his boots crunching loudly on dead twigs.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly. "Is anyone there?"
He reached the front of the metal enclosure. The wire mesh was thick, cold, and rigid. He grabbed the iron bars and peered into the dim, enclosed interior.
At first, he saw only shadows. Then, adjusting to the darkness, his eyes made out a small, huddled shape in the far corner. A pair of thin knees pulled tightly against a chest. Matted, tangled hair falling over a pale, gaunt face.
"Emily?"
The small figure didn't move.
"Emily, sweetheart... it's Dad."
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the head lifted. Two hollow, dark-circled eyes blinked against the sudden intrusion of light. Dry, cracked lips parted, and a voice so quiet it barely registered above the wind whispered into the dark.
"Daddy?"
A sound broke inside David’s chest—half sob, half roar. He lunged forward and grabbed the steel door of the enclosure, but his momentum was abruptly stopped by a heavy brass padlock that locked the heavy metal latch shut.
"No, no, no," he muttered frantically, shaking the door with all his might. The metal clattered violently against the frame, but the lock held firm.
"Dad... the key... Jason has the key," Emily whimpered from the shadows, her voice shaking violently.
David didn't care about keys. Adrenaline surged through his veins, dulling the cold. He spun around, scanning the neglected patio. Near a rusted wheelbarrow by the garden shed lay a heavy pair of iron gardening pliers with long, leverage handles.
He sprinted over, grabbed the tool, and rushed back to the enclosure. Slipping the jaws of the pliers around the shackle of the padlock, he threw his entire weight onto the handles. The metal bit deep. He strained until his muscles burned, his teeth gritting together in a silent snarl.
Crack.
May you like
The shackle snapped. The lock dropped heavily into the dirt.
David tore the door open, dropped to his knees, and hauled his daughter into his arms.
