I don't know what to do. I've removed it. It was messy. A left molar is sitting on blue plate, with happy little flowers painted on it. Spit and blood really seem to ruin the effect.
I can hear the lights again. I know that sounds ridiculous, but you have to believe me. They buzz. Like florescent lights, but, softer? Deeper? Like, you can feel it in your bones, hum.
When it starts I screw my eyes shut and get under the table with the dish. I can hear the small metallic worm thing attached to the tooth whipping around, scraping the clay of the plate. The house is shaking. The windows are rattling. Something like a high pitched pig's squeal begins to fill the cabin. It reaches a frequency and I'm terrified that when it finally stops, I'll be deaf.
Can't open my eyes.
The sound stops.
"Stover! Come in! Terry! He's all fucked up! Chief, pick up. Chris-" My radio blinks. Deputy Markus' voice crackles to a stop. I don't know why I haven't turned it off yet. What's left of the hum finally dies and I count to one-hundred before I slowly open my eyes. The cabin is dark again. THEY didn't find the body, slouched on the opposite wall from me. His head is back, mouth open, red saliva running down his chin.
Moving out from under the desk I notice the metal worm has stopped twitching. That's good. Always good when THEIR objects stop moving. It means that THEY are gone for now.
I open the door to the small cabin and warm late Summer wind blows in, but it doesn't console me. Gooseflesh runs down my arms as I see Lockeheart below me, at the base of the small mountain the cabin is on. The town is on fire. Smoke hangs over it. I want to scream out to the people, but I know better then that.
The smoke and fire aren't right. It begins to reverse. The smoke is pulled back down into the buildings and cars and shapes I can only assume are people. The fires begin to die and fade as the family homes begin to rebuild themselves. St. Micheal's, the only hospital in fifty miles, begins to grow out of the rubble, back to its normal shape. The charred bodies stand. Skin and clothes melt in reverse back onto their charred shapes. They begin to walk around. The cars start up and drive.
It's like Lockeheart wasn't a blasted crater just a moment ago.
I want to go down there. I want to go to Sal's and get a big greasy burger. I want to see my husband and kids.
Sounds of life from the town drift up to me. Stepping in, I close the door and try not to cry.
"Hey, chief, we're getting lots of reports of strange stuff this evening. Danny Whitehead said someone tried to break into his house tonight. Martha Bell said she's been hearing someone screaming out in the fields by her and Terry called back again. He found his dog, but the poor thing has been torn to shreds. Probably coyotes. Just going to be one of those nights." I listen to Markus' voice on the radio while I stare at his body, head back, mouth open, molar missing.
The dead man on the radio laughs. "Yeah, one of those nights."
It has been April 27th, for three days. The sun hasn't risen.
Every four hours THEY return and kill everyone.
Then Lockeheart finds its way back.