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b'Episode Notes
Blake has been tasked with going into the crawlspace to find the source of a putrid odor, but that was only the tip of the iceberg of morbid insanity that awaits him.
The Dead Thing Under the House by David O\'Hanlon
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcription:
Old Man Jennings ventured from his home on Sundays. He\\u2019d amble down the gravel path that led from his porch to his mailbox for the weekly accumulation of sales ads and bills, and promptly retreat into seclusion. In Blake\\u2019s thirty-one years, he\\u2019d never seen anyone come to visit Meadowview\\u2019s mysterious hermit. Once a week, a lawncare service came out to take care of his yard. Twice a year, someone power washed his siding. He paid them all with a check, slipped through the mail slot, when they were finished.
A barred door with two locks hung on both the front and rear of the house and they stayed shut. He would open the ornate front door with its beveled stained-glass window to enjoy the weather, but never the security door. His windows were much the same with heavy, blackout curtains on the inside and bars on the out. His groceries were delivered promptly at one in the afternoon, every Thursday for as long as Blake could remember. A little doggie-door, for lack of a better term, would lift out and Jennings would pull the bags through to the obscure solitude of his self-imposed prison.
Theorizing about what went on inside the home was a Meadowview pastime as familiar as the annual crawdad boil or the town\\u2019s community yard sale. Depending on who you asked, Old Man Jennings was a Satanist, a serial killer, or a space alien. Some people even believed he was already dead and his ghost was just stuck there. Blake didn\\u2019t believe any of it.\\xa0
The ancient coot would have to leave the house to murder people, after all. As kids, Blake and his friends dedicated enough hours spying on the man to know that never happened. As an adult, his divorce had forced him to move back in with his mother\\u2026 directly across the street from Jennings. Blake found himself peering through the blinds out of habit and the geezer still stayed locked inside, just like he always had.
So, it would be an understatement to say Blake was shocked to find Old Man Jennings standing on the porch when he answered the geriatric\\u2019s frantic knocking. Jennings\\u2019 hair was an explosion of white that jutted from his dark scalp in all directions. The mane was much more ample than Blake\\u2019s own, which was retreating faster than a chubby kid at fat camp. Jennings stood on the porch with the grim stature and utter silence of an animated skeleton. Blake shut the door, removed the chain lock and opened it fully.
\\u201cMister Jennings, are you lost?\\u201d
\\u201cNo,\\u201d Jennings said. \\u201cThere\\u2019s something dead in my crawlspace.\\u201d
Blake squinted at the elderly man. \\u201cPretty sure there\\u2019s people that take care of that.\\u201d
\\u201cThere is, but I don\\u2019t like strangers.\\u201d Jennings pointed a bony, accusatory finger at Blake. \\u201cThat\\u2019s why I came to you. I\\u2019ve known you longer than anyone.\\u201d
\\u201cWe don\\u2019t really know each other, though,\\u201d Blake muttered in confusion.
\\u201cThen how did you know my name?\\u201d Jennings\\u2019 lips peeled away from toothbrush-commercial quality chompers in what might have been a genuine smile. \\u201cIs your mother home?\\u201d
Blake shook his head. \\u201cShe\\u2019s in Toledo, visiting my sister.\\u201d
\\u201cOh? How is Sharon? Still married to that banker?\\u201d Jennings looked away and tsked. \\u201cSorry, about your own divorce, by the by.\\u201d
Blake\\u2019s jaw dropped open. \\u201cHow\\u2019d you know about that?\\u201d
\\u201cJust because I don\\u2019t leave my house doesn\\u2019t mean I don\\u2019t talk to my neighbors.\\u201d Jennings shrugged. \\u201cYour mother\\u2019s been my pen pal since 1984.\\u201d
Blake looked over Jennings\\u2019 shoulder at his home. \\u201cMy mom sends you letters? From across the street?\\u201d
\\u201cShe respects my eccentricities.\\u201d Jennings jabbed his thumb toward the street. \\u201cSpeaking of, think you can help me with the dead thing under the house?\\u201d
Blake sighed. \\u201cYeah. Let me change into something else first.\\u201d
He shut the door and headed upstairs. He wasn\\u2019t about to mess up his favorite self-pity outfit crawling around in the mud and spiderwebs that surely occupied the crawlspace. The thought of all those spiders hiding in the dark prickled his skin with a wave of primal terror. He pulled the Ghoulies II t-shirt away from his goose bumped flesh.\\xa0
Blake Sterling\\u2019s father gave him the most heroic name in history before he split.\\xa0
However, it wasn\\u2019t a name he ever lived up to it. Spiders were only one of his many phobias. Stretch marks peeked over the band of his sweat pants from a childhood full of expired Twinkies and Ding Dongs his mom brought home from her job at the gas station. Years of bullying led \\u2018Blake the Blob\\u2019 away from the sweets\\u2026 and food in general. He looked like one of those kids the infomercial people feed for a nickel a day. His dainty form lacked definition or distinction, minus a single tattoo. His ex-wife\\u2019s name was coiled around a rose over his heart. He got it the day she said she\\u2019d marry him. The mirror inside the closet door reminded him of all the reasons Kayla left.\\xa0
Blake grabbed a black t-shirt from a drawer and pulled it over his head before changing into a battered pair of Wranglers that were already stained from painting his kitchen. His face soured. It wasn\\u2019t his kitchen anymore. He threw on his sneakers and didn\\u2019t bother tying them. The crawlspace was going to be more fun than his usual day of self-imposed purgatory. Blake slumped down the stairs and met Jennings on the porch.
The two men made their way across the street and through the gate of Jennings\\u2019 chain-link fence. A piece of the butterscotch lattice was removed from the side of the house to reveal the access point between the cinderblocks. The mid-morning sun was blocked by the trio of white oaks in the front yard leaving Blake to unravel the mysteries of the crawlspace on his own. The putrid-sweet stench of rotting meat lingered leisurely from the opening. Blake knelt down and groaned.
\\u201cA bit tight,\\u201d he said.
\\u201cIt\\u2019s called a crawlspace for a reason.\\u201d Jennings tapped him on the shoulder with a small, metallic flashlight. \\u201cThe smell is strongest in my bedroom. Straight ahead fifteen feet and then hang a left. You should find whatever it is in that area.\\u201d
\\u201cRight.\\u201d Blake took the light and let its beam stab into the tangible darkness. \\u201cMister Jennings, are you sure you don\\u2019t want to call someone that knows what they\\u2019re doing?\\u201d
\\u201cYou\\u2019re a grown up now, you can stop with the \\u2018Mister Jennings\\u2019 stuff. My name\\u2019s Harp. And you do know what you\\u2019re doing, Blake. You\\u2019re pulling a carcass out from under my house for me.\\u201d He turned to leave then twisted back. \\u201cOh, I\\u2019ve got an apple pie cooling right now for you too. Come get me when you\\u2019re all finished.\\u201d
Blake shimmied into the space. The flashlight revealed a few broken spiderwebs dangling from the floor. Whatever died had crawled in along the same path that Blake now took and the goose bumps quickly returned. He clamped the flashlight between his teeth and crawled along, panning his head from side to side looking for the vagrant spiders as much as he was the dead thing. Once he made it what he surmised to be fifteen feet, he turned as Harp had instructed. A wave of steam swirled in front of his light and he paused.\\xa0
Blake took the instrument from his mouth and huffed hard watching the breath fog. He crawled forward slowly, shivering at the sudden bite of cold pressing against his face. The progression was like stepping into a meat locker as he left the warm summer air behind him. The temperature continued dropping with his advance.\\xa0
Something jutted out of the earth in front of him. He squinted at the shape, trying to discern its nature. It didn\\u2019t help. Harp\\u2019s pungent guest spread its perfume with exponential intensity as he inched closer. The light flickered and dimmed before it could reveal the source of the growing stench and then went out completely.\\xa0
Blake continued onward, shaking his head like a dog in an attempt to bring life back to the tool. It worked\\u2026
And he wished in hadn\\u2019t.
The illumination fell on the mound of disturbed dirt and then onto the arm\\u2014the very human arm that reached out of the shallow grave with its fingers furled into the soil. Blake followed the limb to the naked shoulder, up the livid flesh of the neck to the face. Between the strands of dirt-caked, blonde hair the dead woman\\u2019s expression was frozen in a final moment of stark terror. The flashlight plopped next to the corpse with Blake\\u2019s panicked screaming. He scurried backwards until he was far enough away to risk taking his eyes off the corpse and turned in a mad dash for the exit.
Blake collapsed onto Harp\\u2019s porch swing. The neglected chains called out in a demented screech at the arrival of its first guest in decades. Harp pushed open the security door and watched Blake shudder with heaving breaths.\\xa0
\\u201cThere\\u2019s a dead woman under your house,\\u201d Blake whispered.
Harp leaned on the porch rail and crossed his arms. \\u201cJust the one?\\u201d
\\u201cWhat?\\u201d Blake took his eyes off his shaking hands and looked at Harp.\\xa0
\\u201cWas there only the one body down there?\\u201d
\\u201cI\\u2026 I don\\u2019t know. I didn\\u2019t keep looking after I found that one. Why would there be more than one? Why are there any?\\u201d Blake shot up. \\u201cWhy the fuck are you so calm right now? Exactly how many dead bodies under your house would you consider too many?\\u201d\\xa0
\\u201cThree,\\u201d Harp answered, matter-of-factly. \\u201cThree would be very bad. Did you bring the body out?\\u201d
\\u201cI\\u2019m not disturbing a crime scene!\\u201d
\\u201cDo you know she was murdered?\\u201d Harp raised an eyebrow and held his hands open waiting for an answer. When Blake shook his head, he continued. \\u201cSo, it\\u2019s not a crime scene. She might have craw'