Just before dawn that very same morning, the first rolling peal of thunder shook Eli Bibb's little three room shack.

He slept right through it.

His dogs heard the approaching rain well ahead of their master and sniffed at the air.

The alarm clock rang for nearly four minutes before finally rousing Eli, who reluctantly rolled over his crusty stained sheets to turn the alarm off.

He groaned a deep sound of despair, then reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for his eyeglasses.

He sat up, yawned, then slipped the thick black frames over his ears.

He stood up stretching grudgingly, leaving behind his rumpled bed to make a pot of coffee.

A bolt of lightning lit up the room momentarily, followed by a low rumble of thunder.

Eli ignored it and pulled on a pair of pants, then sat down at the kitchen table to put on his boots.

He slipped his sock-less feet, with his talon like, thick yellow toenails into his boots.

He walked with slow heavy steps out to the edge of the porch.

He slid his zipper down and pulled out his member, which was every bit as inadequate as he was.

He aimed for his favorite peeing spot, all the while aggressively scratching his pimpled behind as he listened to his dogs mulling around behind the house.

The leaves rustled, blowing cool sulphur scented mountain air on his face.

 The thunders low rumble reflected and echoed the sound waves off the hillsides and trees, competing with the roaring crash of rock hitting metal that went on from daylight to dark.

The smell of fresh coffee soon wafted out the door, enticing him to hurry and return to the comfort of his home.

He sat down at the table with a mug, added three heaping teaspoons of sugar and stirred briskly.

 He took a sip of the hot sweet liquid in the hope it would help cure his chronic constipation.

 After finishing the first cup, he went out back to feed his five black and tan Coonhounds.

A burly current of air blew coal dust raised from the ground into his sallow pock marked face and eyes.

Eli blinked rapidly then spat it back at the wind with disgust.

Each of his dogs weighed nearly 65 pounds and they lived outside, even in the coldest winters.

He took a second to scratch each one behind the ear.

Everyone who knew Eli found him to be a strikingly odd, unlikable character, but not his dogs, they loved him.

Eli loved them because of their extraordinary stamina in hunting. In the fall and winter, they hunted raccoons, opossums, muskrats, skunks and anything else he could kill to sell the fur and earn extra money.

 Nothing excited Eli more than hearing the hounds yelling one down from a tree, except for his girlie magazines.

He filled their dishes while the ravenous dogs smacked their lips, slobbering and drooling, oblivious to the approaching weather.

The sky suddenly opened up and let loose its burden, chasing him back inside his warm humid house.

The rain added to the symphony of sound as it pounded on his tin roof with a loud melodic, continuous hum.

 He checked the clock on the wall. Given his inordinate self-indulgence in any form of sexual activity, he figured he had a few minutes to spare.

He reached for his favorite, dog-eared November 1948 issue of Esquire Magazine, which lay on the table next to his can of Rope Twist chewing tobacco.

He picked it up and squinted at the pictures, "Gaw damn." he said, putting the magazine back down.

He pulled off his glasses and wiped them with his T-shirt, then placed them back on his face with a smile.

Both lenses now had a large, clear, circular view, although the edges were still caked with years of grime.

He flipped quickly past the advertisement for Old Gold Cigarettes, to the lovely Betty page with her mischievous smile and twinkling eyes.

"Howdee yew sweet young thang." Eli’s beady magnified eyes gazed longingly at the long limbed, alluring creature in her see-through red nighty.

 Eli imagined running his hands up and down her soft supple body, letting his hands fill with her huge and beautiful breasts, keenly delighting his senses.

"My my my my my," he said, as he felt the warm welcome stirring in his groin, imagining how she would feel. He flipped through the magazine slowly, with his rough-dry hands and gazed longingly at the amazing blondes, the exotic brunettes and the fiery redheads with a lecherous, toothless grin.

Eli did not have any teeth. The constant irritation in his mouth where his wad of chewing tobacco was normally placed had resulted in permanent damage to his periodontal tissue.

The grit and sand in his chew had worn away the enamel and left his teeth an ugly yellowish brown.

His injured gums had finally pulled away from the teeth and exposed raw root surfaces.

 The pain had been so much; he had Ole Doc Sizemore remove them all.

 He wore 'falsies' for a while, until one day when he and the dogs were out hunting and he stopped for lunch and removed his false teeth to eat.

He set them on a stump and they fell into the stream and floated away and he never bothered having them replaced.

Instead, he grew a thick scraggly mustache that charitably covered his mouth.

The rain stopped abruptly, and it was quiet except for the sound of the wind and the crashing rock to which he had grown so accustomed, that he paid it no mind. He finished his coffee, then got up and put his Police uniform on.

Afterwards, he emptied the pot into his mug and added three more teaspoons of sugar. After checking his watch, he hastily poured it down his throat.

Officer Eli Bibb scooped out a generous serving of dip and put it in between his cheek and gum.

He slipped the can of Rope Twist in his back pants pocket and stepped outside with no idea of the bizarre scenario fate would soon place him.

The larger branches of the trees swayed in the wind, caramel colored leaves, the color of his hair, swirled at his feet.

The clear weather down below had given way to thick heavy fog that covered the mountain valley and it felt perhaps as much as 10 degrees cooler.

As he approached the car, he slipped a short, thick finger deep inside his nose and dug around.

He pulled out a long stringy wad of green snot, looked at it, shrugged, then slipped his hand in his pocket and rubbed it off inside.

Satisfied, he got into the car and headed up the ridge to pick up his partner, Lester Potts for work.

Two minutes later the riotous rain changed its mind and came roaring back like a hungry lion.

It shattered against the road with such force it appeared to seethe like a boiling liquid.

Eli turned his wipers on full speed. He drove warily up the steep path that was no more than a shelf tucked between chaotic rocks and boulders that looked like gravestones.

Eventually, he pulled into Lester’s place.

He saw the welcoming yellow glow in the window, and pressed the horn twice, while chewing his tobacco in his animal like jaw the same way a cow chews its cud.

He spat out the window and watched as Lester's pretty wife hugged him goodbye with a baby on her hip, as she did every morning.

Lester rushed outside with his raincoat draped over his arm.

He hopped into the car escaping the rain, filling the front seat with his huge mass, and the air with the cloying scent of his English leather.

"Mo'nin Hoss, how ya doin?" Eli asked, backing out.

"I kain't complain. How yew be?"

"I'm aweright. That's ‘bout the awfullest rain we done had fer awhile, taint it?"

"Uh huh, tis."

"A real turd-floater...I kin berely see out the winder," Eli said, leaning forward squinting his eyes that were planted in his pudgy round face, trying to see through the blinding rain.

"Want me ta drive?"

"Eh?"

"Want me ta drive?"

"What? Speak up, yew know I kain’t hea."

"Want me ta drive?" Lester yelled.

"Ha-ell no." Eli could never understand why Lester felt the need to wear his cologne so strongly and often wondered if he took a bath in it.

Lester smoothed back his dark wet hair, "Yep, that be a real gully warsher indeed...I ain't likin this vaymuch my self, gots me a leak in the roof I need ta fix. An I need it ta dry out, so's we kin plant the vegetables. Milly likes ta git em in the ground early, ya know."

Eli made the sound of a snapping whip and laughed at Lester.

The truth was Eli deeply resented the fact that Lester was happily married and had straight bright white teeth, not to mention the fact that he looked like a handsome western movie star; the kind of man that would hang out with the duke on some cattle ranch.

"Ah heard that," Eli said, looking at Lester with a smirk.

He did not believe in eating, let alone raising his own vegetables.

"Well I reckon we's all gots ar own crosses ta bar, don't we?" he laughed and rolled down the window, then leaned his head out into the rain and spit a stream of the viscous mixture out the window, a few drips lashed back at his face.

Lester wrinkled his nose and his upper lip curled in disgust.

Eli's nasty habit of continually spitting was beyond exasperating.

His breath smelled like feces, as usual, which was the reason Lester wore so much cologne when on duty, to mask Eli's foul breath.

Not to mention his uncontrollable flatulence.

The raging wind whistled rapidly through the branches of the ancient oaks and pines, screaming, threatening to wrench them violently from their roots.

Lightening flashed in the sky, followed by a lengthy rumbling bolt of thunder.

"Ya know...yew orta quit chewin that nasty ole stuff."

Eli turned to him and winked, "Don' git ya britches in an up roar thar, big fella. Contrary ta yer beliefs, I only do it ersofen."

"Ersofen? Uh huh, right, what e'r ya say. But we both know it's gonna kill ya one day."

"I'm all chocked up over your concern, Lester, but don't let it be worryin ya none. I'm meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes. I reckon it's gonna take a whole hell of a lot more than a lil bitty bit of tobaccy to kill me."

"Shore, Eli...what ev'r ya say. Yer gonna wind up with the cancer of the throat er the mouth, mark my words. What'd ya say yer daddy died of?"

"Lester, yew done stopped preachin and done gone ta meddlin."

Lester waved his hand at him, "Aweright, aweright. I'm done speakin on the subject."

"That's right, yew tend ta yer own knittin, and I'll tend ta mine."

"Well I'll be gaw-damned;" Eli said as their headlights shone upon a woman swaggering down the middle of the road.

"Who da Ha-ell is that?" he said, peering closer through the aluminum spikes of rain.

"I'll be danged if I know."

When Kat saw the lights behind her she froze.

Electric currents raced through her body, striking her with both fear and dread.

Her heart beat ninety miles a minute; her blood pressure was so heavy there was a pounding in her ears. Inside a war raged as she struggled with what to do.

Splashing through the puddles, they drove up behind her on the dark country road at a snail's pace.

She did not acknowledge them, as if by ignoring them she might deny the reality of their existence.

 The lightening flashed, sounding like a whip and lit up the pre dawn sky like day highlighting the barefoot woman.

Eli slowed the car to a stop.

The thunder rumbled through the sky like an omen as Lester's six foot four frame unfolded and he got out of the car.

 He slipped on his enormous black raincoat as the rain hammered at his crisp, clean uniform.

Lester had an open and trusting nature and people were inclined to trust him.

He counted on it now.

He called out to her, then tilted his head and listened for a reply as he surreptitiously approached her, but his voice was drowned out by the drumming of the rain.

The woman appeared impervious to the pounding rain that adhered her thin blue nightgown to her curvaceous body like a second skin.

She hung her head, not wanting him to see the agitation plastered all over her face as she contemplated her strategy.

"Miss," Lester said as he drew nearer.

She did not respond, but continued walking the rocky road, her bare feet dainty and shapely, unaffected by the rain or the rocks.

Lester watched her slow hypnotic stride and felt chills ride up his back.

The whole thing was so strange it inspired a strong sense of fear that reached down deep inside of his soul.

Some thing was clearly wrong with the young woman.

Lester stepped in front of her, finally impelling her to stop.

Her dark black hair hung in long wet strands over her face.

She was as pale-skinned as the Mountain Laurel that blossom in the spring around the hollows.

The wind had turned and was now blowing towards her in great black sheets of water.

 He looked down at her high cheekbones, her perfectly straight nose, and the broken wet cigarette that dangled from her mouth.

 Her brown nipples were erect and clearly visible through her flimsy wet nightgown like two big goose bumps.

In her arms she clung to a small orange haired raggedly Ann doll.

She did not look up, but felt his presence. He was a huge hulk of a man and looked even larger standing next to her.

He's big enough ta hunt a bar wit a switch.

He asked her who she was, but she remained silent and still.

Her heavy lidded, startling blue eyes were empty and glazed. Strangely enough, it did not diminish her loveliness.

Yet lovely as she was, fear still clawed at Lester's brain.

"Miss."

Still, she did not respond, so Lester placed one of his huge hands on her cold shoulder, gently trying to get her attention.

 She gasped, releasing the wet cigarette from her mouth.

"Miss, we're here ta help. What's yer name sweetheart?"

She cringed and hugged the doll tighter, hoping to hide it, wishing she was not holding it and not remembering taking it.

 To Lester, she seemed to shrink inside of herself.

At that same moment, there was a bright stroke of lightning and a loud sharp crack of thunder.

The storm was right above them now, only a few hundred feet away. He had to get her to safety.

Lester removed his hand and took off his long coat and draped it across her thin shoulders, then bent down and leaned in closer to her face.

"Miss, Miss, we're gonna bring ya on in ta the hospital. Yew understand?"

Not having a solid plan as of yet, she had no choice but to allow herself to be led to the car by the big man.

Lester walked her to the car, opened the back door, slipped his coat off her and ushered her inside the dry squad car.

She sat down without complaint.

Her wet bloodied nightgown slid up and exposed her white cotton bloomers as Eli watched from the front seats rear view mirror.

Any peek’s a good peek.

 Lester promptly tugged it down to her knees, then went to the trunk and opened it, dropped his wet coat inside and snatched a dry blanket.

He leaned into the back seat and wrapped it around the woman’s shoulders then closed the door.

He shook the water off his hat before rejoining his partner who was sitting in the front seat chewing his tobacco like mad.

Eli rolled down his window, spat out into the rain and then struggled to turn and look at the bizarre woman occupying his car, his huge round belly making it a demanding feat.

Her head was bowed and she rocked back and forth, drooling, wetting the shoulder of her nightgown.

"Yew reckon she's sick?" Eli asked with a dribble of brown chew visible in the corners of his mustached mouth.

Lester ignored him.

The rain hammered at the car with a slow repetitive drone.

Eli raised his bushy eyebrows, "Hey darlin, yew got yew a warsher missin inside yer brain or sumthin? What's wrong wit ya?"

She ignored him, thinking and biding her time.

Lester pursed his lips, "Eli, yew just shut yer tater trap now, ya hear? Leave her be. Don't ya be pickin at her, kain’t yew see sumthin ain’t right."

Lester turned around and faced Katrina. "It’s aweright, lil Lady, don't yew pay him no mind."

Eli snorted loudly, shrugged his shoulders and started the car.

"Ignernt hillbilly," Lester muttered under his breath.

"I may be Ignernt, but I ain’t stoo-pid," Eli said uttering the last word with contempt.

"Shoot. Jus drive, will ya?" Eli rolled down the window and forcefully expelled yet another stream of Rope Twist out of his window.

"She's perty...but she's quair...she's done gone mental if'n ya ask me," Eli said, wrinkling his nose with a sideways glance to Lester.

"Nobody did."

"Stinks too."

Lester rolled his eyes and looked straight ahead.

At that time, a mighty gush of wind changed its course and took the rain with it.

An uncomfortable, eerie stillness now filled the car along with the smell of her hair spray, stale cigarette smoke and sweat.

Despite it all Eli found her aesthetically pleasing.

 In the unnatural hush, they drove her to the Small 37 bed hospital where she would be admitted.

The mismatched duo was met at the receiving door by two nurses dressed in white, wearing pointed lined muffin caps, waiting for them with a wheel chair.

 Lester gently drew her out of the back seat. The blanket fell off her shoulders and onto the seat.

Short stubby Eli stood by and watched enthusiastically for another stolen peak as she got out of the car.

"We're at the hospital now, an these here fine ladies are gonna be taken good care of ya, aweright?" Lester told her.

Katrina cleverly maintained her stuporous condition.

 The nurses told the Officers to go to the front desk to sign in.

Lester patted her on the back, then they each gingerly took an arm and helped her into the wheel chair and immediately took her away to be examined.

The officers followed the nurses into the hospital lobby.

It was clean and polished, yet they were assaulted by a tidal wave of unpleasant odors, such as cleaning fluids, medicinal smells, human feces and the lingering odor of hospital food.

The smells flooded Eli's nostrils making him anxious, causing him break out into a cold sweat and involuntarily gag.

He began to choke on his own phlegm, then snorted the mucus back into his throat and swallowed.

"Yew ok, arncha?" Lester asked him with disgust.

 Eli looked up at him, nodded his head, then pulled a grimy handkerchief out of his front pocket and wiped the sweat off his face.

Together the officers walked down the olive-colored hall toward the front desk.

An elderly nurse peered up at them over her wire-rimmed glasses with tightly pursed lips as they approached the desk.

Lester cast a concerned backward glance to where the peculiar disheveled woman from Newman's Ridge had been rolled away into the accident room.

Dr. Isaac Prickett recognized the young woman right away even in her unkempt and alarming condition.

He had just recently treated the youngest Gowen child, Nathan, for a broken arm.

The Doctor would now examine the young Mother.

 The nurses had dressed her in a warm, dry gown and helped her up onto the hard examination table.

Doctor Prickett placed the cold stethoscope on her chest. As he listened to her heart, he watched her face.

"Howdee Mrs. Gowen, kin ya hea me? Do ya remember me? I'm Dr. Prickett. Do ya know where yew are?"

She stared straight ahead with cold dead eyes, maintaining her silence.

"What happened, darlin? Where's Vardy?"

Her only response was a thin trickle of drool that spilled from the side of her mouth.

 She was thinking hard, trying to arrive at a solution to her problem as he examined her arms and legs, which were slightly bruised and bleeding.

Dr. Prickett looked at her imploringly, "Where's yer young’uns? Is Gladys watchin em?"

It was then that she conveniently lost consciousness and passed out, earning her more time.

The Doctor caught her and gently laid her back on the exam table and called for Nurse Mullins to come into the room.

When she stepped up to the bed, Katrina smelled the scent of starch and cigarettes on the nurse’s skirt.

She needed a cigarette desperately.

"Nurse, please stay here with her. I'm goin ta speak ta the deppitys. I'll be right back."

"What's wrong with her Doctor?"

"I believe she is sufferin from amnesia."

"Oh, poor little thang, how long will she be out for Doctor?"

"Could last just a few seconds or minutes...or worst case scenario...it could last for weeks."

When Katrina heard that, it was all she could do not to smile. There was her ticket out.

He marked some things on her chart then left the room in search of the Officers who had brought her in.

He found them at the front desk, eager to find out her condition.

Lester approached the Doctor first, "How is she, Doc?"

Doctor Prickett put his hands in the deep pockets of his white lab coat and said, "She’s a little bruised and scratched up, but appears ta be in no immediate phys'cal danger. However…she was unresponsive and blacked out durin the exam. She's showin the typ'cal blackout symptoms of a person sufferin from what we call Fuge Amnesia."

"Fuge Amnesia? What is Fuge Doctor?"

"Well...apparently somethin’ traumatic has happened by the looks of her bloodied clothes and her de-meaner. Fuge means a partial, or a total loss of mem'ry. Just a fancy term for hysterical Amnesia," he said, with a wave of his hand.

"What'd she say when she woke up?"

"No, no...That’s just it. She didn't wake up. She's completely out of it. She's in a self protective coma."

 Eli and Lester looked at one another then back to the Doctor.

"Let me explain. Ersoften when the mind suffers more than a person can handle, it shuts itself down. It’s the body's way of protectin itself."

"How long a spell she gonna be out fer, we'd like ta ask her some questions."

"It's hard to tell. If we're lucky just a few minutes, but if it's severe, could last for several weeks."

"Well, how soon will we know Doc?"

"She’ll be staying here with us for a period, fer observation and testin."

Eli snorted, "What kinds of tests?" he asked, wiping his sweaty brow.

"We'll be doin a mental status examination, and watchin out fer hallucinations and she'll be tested on her intellectual functionin. When she comes outta her Fuge state of course. Until then...we wait."

He looked at Eli, then at Lester and asked, "Where'd ya'all find her?"

Eli, still white faced and feeling ill, nodded his head at the Doctor, "'Bout three miles up yonder on the Ridge just a walkin right straight down the middle o the road in the rain. If'n ya ask-in me, I'd say she be one sandwich shy of a picnic. Yew reckon so tew don’t ya, Doc?"

Eli was serious, but the Doctor chose to ignore him.

"All by her self?" Dr. Prickett directed his question to Lester.

His brow became furrowed, "Well, where are her young’uns? Where’s Vardy?" he asked, spreading out his hands.

The officers looked at each other remembering the bloodied rag doll.

"Doc, Yew know who she is?" Eli asked.

"Katrina Gowen. She's married ta Vardy Gowen. Gladys' daughter-in-law," he said, rubbing his chin and nodding,"

"Ya’ll ain’t seen Vardy?"

"No."

"I wonder if Gladys has em...I'm mighty worried about the children."

"They live up on the ridge, Newman’s ridge."

"Ya got a number address?"

"I'm sure we got it on file. Could ya'all wait just a minute?"

"Of course."

"How many young’uns might that be Doc?" Lester asked.

"Three, two boys and one perty lil girl, I just put a cast one of the boys just a bit ago." he said solemnly, holding eyes with Lester for a moment before walking away.

 Lester licked his lips nervously; his heart began to race with mixed emotions of alarm and dread.

"Those young’uns must be out there some whure and maybe their hurt," Lester told Eli as fine dots of sweat began to appear on his forehead.

 Eli walked over to a waste can and spit, blissfully careless about how he was actually littering the place.

The desk nurse looked as though she had been shot.

"Do ya mind officer?" she yelled shrilly jumping up from her seat.

Eli swallowed self-consciously before answering. "Sorry 'bout that Madam," he said, without real repentance.

The nurse carried the wastebasket at arms length and walked away from her desk into the back room.

The Doctor returned and handed them her address on a piece of paper. It read; Mrs. Katrina Gowen 598 Newman’s Ridge.

Officer Bibb radioed the information into the chief and they were dispatched immediately to her home address.

Eli breathed a sigh of relief that they were finally leaving the dreadful hospital.

The storm had long since packed up and headed elsewhere, allowing the morning sun to rise and turn the day hot and humid. Steam drifted slowly off the black top and car roofs like phantasmal spirits.

"That Kat may be nuts, but she's purty as a speckled pup, ain’t she Lester? Hey, yew reckon her husband calls her his lil pussy Kat?" Eli was grinning from ear to ear with his protruding fleshy lips disclosing his lustful eagerness for the flesh, "Git it, lil pussy Kat?"

They both sat down in the front seat.

"Did ya see the way her nipples were a showin?" Eli began to laugh and amber colored tobacco juice pooled in one corner of his mouth, "Hoo-Wee! I tell ya what. I'd take her all the way ta parrydise if'n she loud me. I might even be o da mind ta take her even if'n she didn't let me," he chuckled boisterously.

Lester's face was scarlet red. He shook his fist at Eli in blind rage, "God dang it Eli! Shut your hillbilly ass up will ya! Is that all yew ever think of?" Lester glared at him in revulsion.

"What? She ain’t here."

"I got a hankerin ta knock the tar out of ya right here and now!" Lester's jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared out the window with a pained look etched on his big-hearted sun-lined face.

Eventually he turned to Eli with a voice that was both hoarse and crackly, "Yew fergitten a little sumthin? Did'ntja hear what the doc said. Her young’uns are out there. Sumpin ain’t right."

Eli's smile slid off his face and he started the car.

Once more, they headed up the Ridge.

Up to where evil lived.

They bounced along the narrow road lined with tiger lilies that grew by the thousands, in search of the turn off that would lead to the Gowen house, trying to avoid the tortoises which were now enjoying the rain-drenched hills.

They went up and down the steep mountain that wound and twisted like spaghetti twice before finally spying the worn out rust-colored mailbox, and the numbers 598.

The box was leaning backwards, nearly touching the ground as if beaten down by the wind.

 It had been taken over by black-eyed susans and golden rod and was nearly invisible from the road.

They turned in; a slanted ray of sun pierced the thick canopy of sodden oak and hickory trees as they drove down the rutted dirt drive.

Four scrawny barking mutts came running and jumping to greet them at the car as they approached.

Nothing could prepare the back woods Deputy's for the grisly horror they were about to experience.

The rustic tranquility of life on the mountain as they knew it, was about to undergo a sudden upheaval.

"Git!" Eli yelled, shooing them all away with his fleshy hand.

They pulled up close to the tiny box house perched on the flat land with its sagging sheet metal roof, reminding Eli of the way the rain made a sonorous soothing sound when it pelted the roof.

Only the back wall of the house rested on the ground, the front wall was propped on eight-foot tall stilts.

A huge pile of blue-black coal lay in the yard.

The land around the house was so steep and rocky from erosion that the two ends of the small house seemed to nearly hang over the edge.

Like all mountain families on the ridge, the garden itself curved around the hillside.

They parked the car and got out looking around, alert to possible danger in search of the three Gowen children.

The sparse grass and dirt yard was a muddy mess.

Several barrels, Lester knew were there to catch rainwater, lined the yard. They were all full.

With the dogs sniffing curiously at their heels, they followed the stone walkway that led up the ten creaking wood steps to the front door.

Lester pulled open the screen door and knocked on the other, but there was no answer.

They went around to the side yard past the chicken coup and pen of turkeys, to the porch that was located at the outside kitchen door.

There was a slimy green bald area, where the dishwater had been thrown out from the kitchen door.

They side stepped the slime and went onto the porch that smelled heavily of mold.

Several pairs of children's shoes neatly lined the worn floorboard.

There was a utility shelf between the two porch posts on which sat a pail of water with a long-handled aluminum dipper hanging from its rim.

A wash pan and a piece of soap were there, as well as a checkered towel that hung on a nail driven into the post.

Eli shaded his eyes with his hand and peered through the grimy window, while Lester tried the knob.

 The latch clicked back and opened easily in his hand.

The doors' hinges groaned and screeched as he opened the heavy wooden door cautiously.

He ducked down, stuck his head in and hollered, "Hello? Is anybody home? Mr. Gowen? This is the Po-lice!"

Their olfactory senses were once more assaulted, this time by the easily recognizable smells of old vomit, cigarettes and stale burnt coffee.

 There was no answer and Lester felt something sinister in the air.

He drew his gun and entered the chilly house carefully, not knowing if a potential perpetrator was still in the house or not.

He gasped when a huge calico house cat brushed against his legs and raced out of the house, and one of the dogs ran in.

Eli cupped a hand over his nose and mouth and tried not to gag.

They looked around the kitchen, dishes were piled up high in the sink.

There was a huge pot of cold congealed beans sitting uncovered on the stove with a slimy film of mold on top.

The trash can was overflowed onto the floor.

 In the back of the house, the dog began to bark frantically, so they followed his bark to a bedroom door.

They found the little girl, lying on her back in the bed, a ribbon of dried red blood trailed from her small freckled nose.

She appeared to be merely sleeping at first glance.

But her blue eyes, frozen open in death, told the truth.

"Oh, Jesus," Lester said, taking her pulse to be sure.

"Ah, Lawrdy, Hell no," Eli moaned, while shooing the dog back outside.

They walked around the quiet room searching for the other two children before entering into the adjoining living area.

 With guns still drawn, they found it empty but in a state of disarray, indicating that a struggle may have occurred.

Off of that room, they saw a door half ripped off its hinges and splattered with dried red blood.

"What in the blue blazes happened here?" Lester said, approaching it with dread as if his feet were stuck in honey.

Upon closer inspection, they saw that the door had been literally shredded open, exposing shattered splinters of wood.

He licked his dry lips and cautiously pushed the door open with a hand that was slick with sweat.

 He stuck his head in the small bathroom, pungent with the smell of blood, and immediately saw a heartbreaking, pitiful sight.

It was a small boy clad in short pants, covered in red, huddled down in the corner by the toilet, lying on a bloody red pillow.

 Lester wondered where the other little guy was.

They both immediately looked at each other, "Go check the rest of the house." Lester told him.

Lester heard a sound so slight he was not sure if it were real or imagined.

He knelt down and leaned in; his brow dotted with hundreds of beads of sweat and saw the child's back and chest rise ever so in perceptively.

The little boy was still alive. Dear God in heaven...what happened here?

"Son..." Lester said, softly touching the little boy's shoulder, hopeful to try to assess the damage and comfort the child and make him a little less frightened.

Without moving his head, the little boy's cloudy eyes opened and he looked straight up at him.

His lips moved as he mumbled something Lester could not hear.

He leaned in closer, "What is it son?"

"Mommy killed me," the little boy whispered.

Lester's heart lurched at the words.

He gently moved the small boy's mangled body to pick him up, but when he did, he realized that the 'pillow' that the little boy had been huddled against, was in fact a smaller boy who was very obviously dead.

His skin was pale white and mottled blue and his tiny right arm was in a small bloody cast.

Lester's stomach churned with oily nausea.

After a thorough search, Eli determined that the father was in fact not in the house, which at that point looked very suspicious for him.

When Eli re-entered the bathroom, and saw the second child, his face frozen in a mask of horror, he could take no more and began to gag and dry heave.

"Call for help! Now! Hurry it on up!" Lester yelled.

He ran outside where he lost the contents of last nights dinner as he held onto a tree for dear life.

Back inside, the boy appeared to be barely clinging to life, as he had clung to his younger brother, as if he had been trying to shield him with his own small body.

"It's goin ta be ok son," he whispered to the child and rubbed his small head softly, "It's goin ta be ok." Lester's jaw was clenched, his mouth firm, he felt impotent and afraid. He was forced to look away, the lump in his throat overpowering him.

Only his eyes revealed what he felt.

He was scared and longed for his wife Mildred at that moment, knowing she would know exactly what to do.

Eli managed to get himself together and made the call to headquarters, calling for help.

 He stood alone outside as the wind whistled through a giant pine tree with a muscle working in his jaw and waited.

Never one for sentiment, even Eli was surprised when he felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

He soon heard the sudden harsh cries of a flock of crows, alerting him to the fact the Emergency team was there.

The suburban panel truck approached the house quickly with the dogs yelling and barking at its wheels.

Eli whisked the two men into the bathroom to where the child who clung to life now lay cradled in Lester's arms.

"What in tarnation happened here?"

One of the men asked, while checking the boy's pulse.

Lester did not answer; he was still in shock, still mulling over the little boys words.

'Mommy killed me.'

Was it possible?

The EMT was an acquaintance of the Gowen’s and asked if Vardy or Kat were also found in the house.

Eli told them that Mrs. Gowen was at the hospital that very minute, but they did not know where Mr. Gowen was.

"He might be at the watermill with his brother Walter," he told the Officers.

"Hurry," he looked at his partner, "Let's be gittin this kid ta the Hospital, quick!"

They lifted Levi’s poor little battered body up and raced off to the hospital.

The coroner was called for the two other Gowen children.

En route, sensing the child was succumbing to severe blood loss and lack of oxygen, he performed an emergency tracheotomy on him to free the flowing blood and salvage much-needed air.

While the coroner was removing the two dead bodies, Lester called home to his wife.

 The big man was trembling and there were huge sweat stains under his arms as well as the boy’s blood on the front of his shirt.

"Milly, are the boys ok?" Lester was the father of two little boys, one who was only four months old.

"Why of course they are see-lly," she answered at first, but soon realized by his tone, that something bad had happened.

"Lester what is it? What's wrong?"

 He did not answer, and she heard him breathing hard as if trying not to cry.

"Lester, honey...?"

"Milly...there's been a...what appears ta be a-a...double homicide..." he stumbled over the words, "There’s two dead young’uns here!"

At home, his wife gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

"And the one little guy is 'bout Robbie James's age. They are takin him to the hospital right this minute. He's berely clingin ta life."

"Oh, Lawrd God, Lester no!" she exclaimed, "What kind of monster would do somethin as des-pisable as murder childern?"

Then she began to cry.

Lester couldn’t get the words out of his head.

As the coroner drove off with the two bodies, Eli stood on the porch, listening to his partner on the phone to his wife and wished he too had someone to call.

Eli put a fresh plug of a chew inside his mouth and prayed that at least the one little boy and his mother would survive.

Later they would find out the little guy had passed away before they ever arrived at the hospital.

In all the rush and drama, no one even noticed the tiny little freckled faced girl who stood alone outside, watching silently in the shade of the big white American oak tree.

The officers now had the task upon them to find Mr. Vardy Gowen.

On the way, Lester told Eli what the child had said. Eli, for the first time in his life was speechless.

They found Vardy at the watermill on Black Water Creek in town, having just stopped in to see his brother Walter on his return from a run before going home.

Lester introduced himself, then put his hand on his shoulder and told him that he was there to deliver some terrible news.

He told him he might want to sit down, but Vardy said, "No, just spit it out."

Lester informed him of first finding Mrs. Gowen on the road, then what they had found at his home, as well as what the one little boy had said.

Walter looked at his poor brother's face and his hands went to his mouth.

Vardy's eyes went wide, all the color raced from his face and he turned a ghastly shade of white.

His mouth went slack jawed and his shoulders slumped.

He stood motionless, looking off into the distance, as if searching for something too far away to be seen.

 Images of each of his children's innocent little faces raced through Vardy’s mind. Without warning, his knees buckled and he crumbled to the ground.

 His trademark blue fedora fell off his head and hit the ground with a dull thud.

His long slender fingers covered his face as he wept unashamedly for his great loss.