Baby

nursery rhymes to their thirty-one year old daughter as she played in the back seat with her favorite doll.
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    “But why do you have to go now? Can’t it wait until Monday? And you still have not explained this mad decision to bring Em home with us.” Marne looked like she was holding tightly to the very last lock on her temper, her patience beyond exhausted.
    Hudson closed the door to his closet, his sheriff’s jacket in his hands. He sat on the bed next to his wife, putting his arm around her.
    “Baby, do you trust me?”
    “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I trust you, Hud? Please tell me what is going on. And what does it have to do with Em?”
    “Honey, I think it might be time to bring Em home and introduce her to the rest of the family. I want you to call the kids and invite them over to Sunday dinner. We need to do this now.” He looked into her eyes, flickers of trust, love, confusion, and was that a hint of fear? It broke his heart to do this to her, but he knew no other way out. He just needed to check one more thing before he made up his mind. He rose to his feet, pulling Marne up with him.
    “I love you more than my own life. Did you know that, Marne?”
    “Yes, Hud. I knew that from the day I married you.”
    “Is Em still sleeping?”
    “Yes, Hud.”
    “Promise me you will not let her out of your sight.” She nodded her head, the questions still in her lovely eyes. He took a finger and traced the curve of her lips, caressing the side of her face as he bent down for a final kiss. Lifting his jacket from the bed he turned and left the room.
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    Sheriff Hudson stood in the cool graveyard, pulling the collar of his jacket tighter to ward off the bite of the northern wind that claimed the graveyard as its own. He clutched a piece of paper in his hands; directions to Netty’s lover’s grave. The poor kid, so needless. He made his way down the rows of unmarked graves, wondering where the boy’s family lived and if they had given up on his return home. Funny, he didn’t even know the young man’s name.
    He followed the directions that led him to a dip in the topography of the graveyard, creating a shallow crater that sheltered him from sight. Not that he had any company in the graveyard, except for the unclaimed forlorn bones of the indigent, nestled in their ignoble final roost.
    Hudson counted carefully, following the directions to the correct grave. But he need not have bothered. He only need search for the grave that looked like a bomb exploded from the inside. Like the one in front of him. Compressing his lips until they turned white, he leaned over the edge of Netty’s young lover’s grave, finding it empty; just as he expected. Bad time to be right; very bad time …
    Hudson knew he did not have to bother to look for the expected holes at the bottom of the grave. His nose clearly detected the faint trace of sulfur he knew emanated from them. Just like the holes beneath the window of his daughter’s bedroom. Mrs. Post fortunately interrupted the monster before it abducted Emily. Or killed her for the same reason it killed Eli. Revenge. Now the monster appeared to be extending its quest to his family. Why? There must be an unfathomable connection between the monster and Netty’s unorthodox family. If the monster just wanted to kill him, opportunities presented themselves every day. Why go after Em?
    Hudson suddenly fell to his knees, a germ of a thought, previously relegated to the recesses of his consciousness, arose mightily to claim its rightful place as the only true answer to his impossible question. It was not just revenge. It was vengeance . It wanted him to suffer before it killed him. The monster could think and reason. It has a plan. It wants him to feel pain and loss; just as they caused it to feel the pain and loss of Netty, her lover and the unusual creature brutally and callously murdered by Eli. Was that it? Oh, my God! Hudson rocked back and forth on his heels as realization of the danger he put his family in hit home. The monster wanted him to suffer as it killed his family.
    A tear escaped a brimming eye as he arose, a resolute solution filling him with regret and sadness. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and started the trek back to his patrol car. One quick stop at his office and he could put an end to the threat to his family.
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    Sheriff Hudson hurriedly finished the letter to Marne, slipped it into an envelope and held it to his heart. He took