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That last one had a red haze forming over my eyes, and I had to work to control my temper. Final initiation means penetration. Those sick fucks would allow a baby to be touched in any other way, except penetration. That was reserved for when they reached five years old.
Once I’m in my closet, I crouch down and pull out the black tote tucked underneath a shelf. Flipping the lid off, I rifle through the papers and pull out a tube buried at the bottom. I lay the engineering paper on the floor of my closet, using the tote and lid to hold it open. The entirety of the town is laid out before me. I know every nook and cranny of Malus, but I hope, as I gaze over the blueprint, that I’m missing something. Diego has to be somewhere, and there’s not a single person in town who would hide him. Meaning he’s holed up somewhere where I haven’t looked or in some hidden place no one visits.
Nothing. There’s not one Goddamn place on the chart I haven’t looked, just as I suspected. So, where in the fuck is he?
Angrily, I roll up the blueprint, stuff it in the tube, and shove it back in the tote. I come to a stand and kick the tote back underneath the shelf, then frown when something on the wall knocks loose. Bending back down, I look under the shelf, surprised to find the bottom half of the drywall pushed in, revealing a hidden alcove behind it.
What in the fuck? How in the hell have I not known this was there? Most of the walls were torn down and replaced when I had the house gutted. Thinking back, the closets and bathroom walls were the only ones that weren’t ripped out.
Shoving a couple of boxes aside, I yank the drywall away and spot a wooden box. I take the box out to the bar in the kitchen, grab another beer, and take a seat. Adrenaline rushes through me as I open the box. There’s a thick expandable folder filled with papers. Beneath the folder are at least twenty compact VHS tapes. I disregard the tapes for the moment—it’s not like I can view what’s on them anyway without a compact reader. I’ll give them to Emo to transfer to something that’s readable.
Pulling out the folder, I’m shocked to see they’re birth and death certificates. They can’t be state issued, because no one who was born or had died in Sweet Haven was ever reported. The town didn’t want to run the risk of being caught with what they were doing to the children. Apparently, The Council still kept their own records of every birth and death. Some of these are dated as far back as the early nineteen hundreds.
I look through the stack and stop when I come across my parents’. My paternal grandparents are listed on my father’s birth certificate. I remember my grandparents. They never participated in Hell Night. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they were too old. They had my dad in their early-fifties. My earliest memory of them they were already in their late seventies. Even though they couldn’t physically participate, they were still at every Hell Night. I remember seeing them sitting in comfortable leather chairs off to the side as they watched what all the kids went through.
Flipping to the next page, I find my brother’s certificate, and mine behind his. I locate Judge’s, Trouble’s, and Emo’s as well. I pull Trouble’s out of the stack, knowing he’ll want it. He recently discovered that the people who raised him weren’t his biological parents. They were murdered in cold blood when he was a baby because they refused to allow their children to be a part of Hell Night. Come to find out, both his biological parents and Mae and Dale—who he also recently discovered were his grandparents—kept their pregnancies a secret until they couldn’t hide it anymore. His birth parents are listed on his birth certificate.
Snapping up my phone, I shoot Emo a message.
Me – I found some old compact VHS tapes I need you to make viewable as soon as you can.
His reply comes immediately.
Emo – How many?
Looking at the stack, I take a guess.
Me – Twenty or more.
Emo – It’ll take time, but I’ll get it done.
Me – I’ll drop them by your place tomorrow.
I pull up Judge’s number.
“What,” he growls, sounding irritated and out a breath.
“Bad time?” I ask with a bit of amusement lacing my voice.
“I’m fucking Jenny. What do you think?”
“I think you probably shouldn’t answer the phone when you’re bangin’ your woman,” I answer bluntly.
“With the shit that’s going on and the lateness of the hour, I figured it was something important. Now, you gonna to tell me why you interrupted me?”
I glance at the clock on the stove and realize I’ve been looking over the birth certificates for over an hour.
“I found a box in a hidden alcove in my closet. You’ll be interested in what I found.”
“What,” he snaps.
“Compact VHS tapes. Emo’s going to convert them. I also found certificates for every person born and died in Sweet Haven.”
“That’s not possible. The town never reported births or deaths here.”
I take a long pull from my beer before setting it back down. “These aren’t state issued. The design is similar, but I think The Council did these themselves as a way to keep a record of everyone.”
A feminine moan comes across the line. The horny bastard can’t even stop fucking Jenny long enough to talk on the phone.
