Ash Return of the Beast

CHAPTER 11



Three Months Earlier…

Having crawled up through the second trapdoor, Cowl was surprised to find he was now inside the garden shed located at a far corner of the mansion’s sizeable back yard. What the hell is this all about? This time he didn’t have to search for the light switch. He knew exactly where it was. A few days prior to purchasing the place, he’d inspected the shed just to see what was inside. It seemed to contain nothing of any value: some old paint cans, a few rusted garden tools and an old lawnmower covered with spider webs.

He opened the shed door and stepped out into the brisk winter night. The moon was nearly full behind a thin layer of cloud. The filtered moonglow bathed the surrounding area in a pale, ghostly light. Some fifty or sixty feet away, at the other end of the yard, the old mansion stood stoic, dark and quiet, rising up from the ground like something out of an ancient gothic fairytale.

He lit a cigarette and walked further out into the yard.

A dilapidated chain link fence stretched the entire width of the back yard, separating his property from the alley. The alley spanned the full length of the long block of homes known as Millionaire’s Row. Every mansion along the Row had access to the alley as it ran along the backside of their yards. Cowl’s own fence had a gate that opened out to the alley but the gate had long been obscured, hidden behind a huge tangle of blackberry bushes and weeds. He sauntered over to the fence and flicked his cigarette butt over the blackberry bushes. It landed in a puddle in the alley. He took another quick look around and shivered from the cold. He blew some warm breath into his cupped hands and walked back to the shed.

Inside the shed, he closed the door and was about to turn off the light and climb back down through the trapdoor when a rat leaped out of a large can on a shelf above the lawnmower. The can tumbled to the floor. Cowl jumped and fell backward against a shovel that was hanging on the wall. “Jesus H. Christ!” He spun around, grabbed the shovel and was ready to do battle but the creature was long gone. “F*ck!” He threw the shovel on the floor and it knocked a plank loose. Shit! He maneuvered the board back into place with his foot. As he did so, the plank next to it moved. He got down on his hands and knees and was sliding the boards back into place when he caught a glimpse of something under the flooring. He lifted the boards away. What the hell is this?

An object about the size of a large shoebox was resting snuggly in the space once covered by the boards. A third board came up with little effort. Tossing it aside, he reached in, brushed the wisps of cobweb away, and retrieved the item.

It was a plain-looking copper box, tarnished with age. The lid was fastened shut with a padlock and a corroded hasp. He tilted the box. Something jostled inside. He tilted it the other direction. Again something moved. The back and forth movement of whatever was inside the box was very slight. Whatever it is, he figured, it must be nearly as long and wide as the box itself.

He rattled the lock a few times but it wouldn’t open. He jumped to his feet and rummaged around looking for a hacksaw or, better yet, a pair of bolt cutters. Come on. Come on. Gotta be something here… He spied a rusty hacksaw hanging on the wall and grabbed it. It took a few minutes but the rusty old blade did the job. He twisted the lock out from the hasp, tossed it aside and lifted the lid.

The object inside was a large book. The heavy tome was covered in thick black leather, worn at the edges as if handled by someone a great many times in some ancient past. The gold leafing on the embossed title was cracked and faded. Cowl lolled his head, staring at the title, trying to figure out how to pronounce the strange word:

NECRONOMICON

As he ran his fingers across the gilded letters he was unaware that he had awakened something: something ancient, something hideous, loathsome, dangerous. Some morsel of madness, now aroused and aware, uncurled from its dormant sleep and slithered into the dark recesses of Cowl’s subconscious where it took root… and waited.