Children of the Dead, page 4
“Tommy, get in the car.” Susan grabbed her son and slung him into the seat. Tommy dropped his prized championship belt on the asphalt outside. Susan slapped down the latch and slammed the door.
“My bewlt. No, no, pwease pick it up. Momma, pwease.” Tommy began to wail and jerk the door handle to get back outside.
Susan ran to the other side of the car, trying to climb in before the door was even open. She cursed at the Ford, at her husband, at anyone for denying her power locks. She repeated the unsteady action of trying to open the driver’s door with her keys.
The dirt smeared corpse galloped closer to the car. Tommy’s wailing came to an abrupt halt as the corpse smashed into the passenger side door and crushed his beloved plastic belt under foot. The corpse pounded on the window, radiating small star fields of cracks with each impact. Susan got her door open and fell into the seat heavily. On her third stab, the key found the ignition and the car started up.
*****
Susan breathed slow and deliberate. Her cheek was on fire and the pain was really kicking in at her neck. Her temples also throbbed, making it difficult to dodge panicked pedestrians and swerving automobiles. Tommy sat in silence, holding the safety belt across his torso in a death grip.
“Try the phone again, baby,” Susan said with as calm a cadence as manageable.
Tommy went through his many-times-practiced routine of dialing his father’s phone number during an emergency. The call continued to go directly to voicemail. Tommy pushed END and shook his head at his mother. Susan swore and pushed the gas pedal just a bit further down.
The chaos was radiating out from the city center. On Maddox Ave, just behind the GP, was Hardy’s Peace Chapel. Two separate ceremonies had been taking place that particular evening, and both had ended in blood and confusion. Located only a few streets away was the Christ’s Harmony Eternal Rest where Barry Campbell witnessed the end of the world not long before. A quarter mile from this was Harmony First Baptist, owners of one of the larger cemeteries in the tri-county area. Harmony was well-stocked with the dead (and nearly dead) and as the night closed like a fist, these places spewed their inhabitants out into the small town.
The green Taurus dodged wrecks, in progress as well as abandoned. A large Ford pickup was lodged in the front window of Gold Diggers Pawn. Smoke and fire swelled around the intruder from the store’s shattered front. Susan worked her way through chaos and out of town.
The Finch home was quite a few miles beyond the city limits. The road between was rural, curvy and dark. Her vision doubled and she nearly collided with a semi-truck barreling towards town. She struggled for focus and pressed on for home. Presumably, Robert Finch was waiting by his short wave radio, sick with worry, and composing a lecture for Susan on the dangers of being out during a disaster. He sure as shit didn’t trust cell phones and it was a long, annoying battle to get him to take possession of one. He couldn’t be bothered to even turn it on, so it seemed. Susan would never hear another lecture. A couple of miles past the near miss with the truck, the Taurus struck a human form shuffling out of the woods. The shape was pulverized along with a good chunk of the front of the car including all of one headlight and most of the other. Susan realized she had neglected to click her seatbelt securely as her forehead smashed the steering wheel. After that, she barely maintained their path along the dark road.
The car wasn’t going much further after that. The remaining headlight went to dull orange and the car sputtered. Susan had a terrible feeling about what was physically overtaking her and she made a decision. A pale, hacking Susan pulled the car to the roadside. A few puffs of smoke wafted from the dented front end and the engine hitched several times before it was extinguished with a turn of the key.
“Mommy? Why awre we stopping?” Tommy asked, looking out the windows for more monsters. “Is the car bwoken? I want Daddy.”
“Yes, the car is broken…and mommy’s sick, baby.” Susan vibrated the car with her cough. The pain gripped her entire body now. Tears were on her lacerated cheek. Her vision swam and threatened unconsciousness. Susan glanced about and seeing no one else, opened the door.
“Mommy, don’t go!”
“Keep this door locked, Tommy. Don’t let anyone in… not even me.” Susan was really crying now; the terrible idea of her fate turning to sad resignation. There was nothing she could do. “I love you, baby.”
Tommy stared at her, his own tears breaching his eyes. “Did the monsters get you?”
“I’m going to heaven. The monsters will try and trick you. They will look like me.” She wiped a thick tear from her cheek and her finger came away bloody.
“I want to go to heaven with you,” Tommy said as he unhooked his seat belt and tried to hug his mother.
She backed away quickly, holding up her arms to stop him. She was careful to touch only his clothes just in case she could infect him. Susan’s heart broke one final time at the look in Tommy’s eyes at her rebuff. In her fading mind, she played through all of the scenarios. She would not be able to kill her son before she turned, not out of mercy or otherwise. Susan would not include her son with her own fate. Her only hope was that he would be safe in the car and that someone would rescue him.
“You will go to heaven, someday. Mommy wants you to stay here and be safe.” Tommy started to protest, his crying nearing a wail in fear and complaint. “Listen to me! Stay in this car, no matter what. Mommy has some snacks in her purse, but don’t waste them, Thomas.” He obeyed her strictly serious tone without question. Susan softened. “I love you.” Her voice sounded far away to her own ears. A massive wave of pain flashed across her body. She slapped the door lock knob and nearly fell out onto the asphalt.
“I love you too, momma,” were the last words that Susan heard from her son. The door slammed shut.
Susan’s crawl away from the car took a painful ten minutes. She had to get away from the car, get anywhere before it happened. There just was not enough time. She stretched out flat, head resting near the crumpled front bumper. Another pain wave hit and she vomited a mass of blood onto the street. Her last labored breaths choked through her bloody lungs. Susan died there, a few feet from her only son who stared wide-eyed out the windshield.
*****
It had been nearly half an hour since Tommy’s mother left him locked in the car. The early autumn air wound its way into the Taurus and brought with it the smell of forest and cooler nights. Even at a young age, Tommy liked fall best. The mild air and the colorful leaves hinted at the approach of the most hallowed of children’s holidays, Christmas. Tommy did recognize the road he was stuck on, but by a child’s reckoning, his house was too far away to attempt on foot. He couldn’t even run home and tell daddy where his momma was lying. At any rate, he hadn’t the courage to step outside that car.
It was pitch black outside and there were monsters. Mommy had told him to stay right here. The last time he had disobeyed had not worked out too well, either to his freedom or his backside. She was a fair woman, playful and fun most of the time, but her laws were inviolable, even out of her presence. Maybe she would be okay. She wasn’t hurt too bad, he thought. In the morning, if his daddy didn’t come for them, they could try walking home together.
Tommy settled back into his seat and then had a thought of driving the car himself. In past days, he used to sit in his mother’s lap and steer, but only on back roads. Sheriff Murphy would not have been happy to pull over Susan Finch and her boy Tommy co-driving through downtown Harmony, and once his daddy found out, that bit of joyriding had ended.
Smack. Something plopped down on the hood with force. Tommy jerked his head face-front. There was no follow-up. He waited; breath held that whatever had hit the hood would not reveal itself further. Instead of a hard smack on the hood, Tommy heard a long, slow scraping from the same direction. He couldn’t sit quiet and not know what was making that sound. He would have to meet it halfway. The boy leaned into the driver’s seat and felt for the stick on the side of the steering column. He twisted the knob he found there. By the dull glow of the remaining headlight, there was now a hand gripping the mangled hood of the car. The hand raked down the dented hood with hooked, bloody fingers. A head rose above the plane of the hood and met Tommy’s gaze. The boy’s scream came loud and long, and he burst into hysterical crying, covering his face.
“Momma, no…no, pwease, momma!”
Susan pulled herself up on shaky legs. She saw the squirming creature in the passenger seat and might have experienced flashes of imagery, like a slideshow viewed under a strobe light. Beneath this was something else, primal, vicious, and ravenous. Her brain was ablaze, thoughts lost, and knowing only vague impressions of what the child in the car meant to her… food.
Susan crossed around to the passenger door and pressed her face against the window. Tommy looked through snot-dripping fingers and saw the horror of his mother’s corpse inches away. He screamed again and fumbled for the seat belt latch. He would not look at her again. Only escape from the monster was on his mind.
Susan opened her mouth. Again, the imagery flashed, though dimmer and hazier than before. Her still lungs inflated and she attempted to revive lingering, dying thoughts. They were gone before she could recall them a second time. All that came from her throat was a croak and then a low moan.
The hunger decimated her mind again and the need to taste living flesh was all that remained. Susan began to beat her forehead on the car window, rhythmically in time with her recurring moan. Her fingernails clicked on the glass percussively. She desired the thing in the car, the little one. It was all she could see, all she could know. There was nothing left on earth.
Finally, Tommy was free of the belt. He went first into the driver’s seat and began to push every button he could find. The horn bleated, a turn signal clicked, and with a kick, he managed to shut off the car’s headlights. The low moonlight was dampened by cloud cover and the corpse of Susan became just noise in the night thump…thump…thump.
The sudden dark aided his next plan. He jumped into the back seat and covered himself with the blanket that lay there. The weekend before, his family had been sitting on the blanket eating a KFC family meal out by the Oconee River. Well, Daddy sat in the car because of the bugs, but he and his mother enjoyed the afternoon air. Could he still smell her on the blanket? Try as he might, he only smelled soiled fabric. He turned back to the memory and this sustained him into the sleepless night against thump… thump… thump.
*****
That first night, while David lay trapped in his best friend’s old tree house and Tommy cowered in the backseat of the family sedan, Jodi and her sister were shut in the upstairs hall closet. Jodi was in and out of a haunted sleep, a condition which did not affect her snoring sister. The lucid moments were all paralysis and fear. It was hot and humid in that confined space but leaving the closet was not an option—not that night. The sweat ran along her body, soaking the thin night clothes she wore. She felt a chill even in the swelter. There was not a sound from outside of the closet and indeed, the silence was a strong deterrent to courage. She held Jessica tight and prayed for dawn.
Old Haunts
The dead still have a voice. David listened to it all morning from his hiding place in the tree house. His mother’s corpse was not an isolated incident. He had awoken to a harsh screech, inhuman and right below the window cut into the wall of the clubhouse. It took several seconds to clear his mind and convince himself that the previous night had actually taken place. Another screech and some rustling convinced him that sleep was over.
David lifted his head to one of small windows until just his eyes cleared the lower half. The tree house groaned and shifted uncomfortably. The forest surrounding the Gooch house was brightly lit and shining with the morning dew. No birds were singing and nothing stirred except the unseen presence below. David swallowed hard. He would regret his goddamn curiosity, one way or another. He inched his head up more, bit by bit. The view tilted down slowly onto a dirty blonde head at the base of the tree.
It was Todd Gooch as far as David could tell. His hair was pretty matted and his shirt was almost black from the dried blood coating it. Todd was moving around the thick undergrowth in jerky motions and appeared to be searching for something. David kept his mouth clamped shut, easy to do as it had just gone bone dry.
The dead boy abruptly stopped moving and began to lean forward like he had spotted something. With a loud hiss, a cat shot from the underbrush and straight up the tree, clawing for the clubhouse window. Todd followed the flight of the cat and locked eyes with David, who felt his own try to leave their sockets in fear. Todd’s raggedy, torn mouth flung open and a screech issued from the hole in his throat that had recently colored his white night shirt a crusted black.
“Oh shit,” David yelled and jerked back into the room. There was a clamber outside and the screech moved under the tree to get at the step ladder on the other side.
“Fuck me.”
Todd pounded up the step ladder as David wedged both feet against the door of the tree house. The strength of the impact from the other side of the plywood door sent him into near hysteria. The corpse of Todd Gooch pounded relentlessly, growling through the hole in his throat.
David pressed his arms upwards on the wall for leverage. The door popped open repeatedly between the opposing forces, but never more than a couple of inches. David’s yells of fear harmonized with Todd’s grunting. The whole structure shook violently with their struggle.
Abruptly, Todd ceased the assault and there came a loud thud followed by several other impacts from the ground below the door. David pressed hard on the door for a few seconds more, holding his breath. Slowly, his eyes opened in the new silence. He exhaled and let his feet go limp. No sound came from outside. David lay in the tree house for over ten minutes, breathing quietly and listening. Sweat dropped from his head with steady light tap…tap on the cedar board flooring.
David inched up to a crouch and gripped the door. It opened creakily on bent hinges. Todd was standing on the ground below the tree house. The old step ladder was collapsed and broken on the ground at his feet. He stared up with red bulging eyes and his mouth agape. Once again David locked gazes with the monster below him and swore silently. He was trapped.
Hours passed and David lay immobile on the floor, listening intently for the sounds of movement below. None could be heard. The afternoon passed at a sweaty creep. His stomach growled and his neck was strained without support. The forest moved about its day outside. Birds regained their song and flew through the trees, racing the wind along the boughs. At some point, he fell asleep and dreamed away the afternoon.
It was a bright day, and David sat hunched over in the corner of the tree house by the cutout window. Wayne and Todd sat on either side of him playing poker with a deck of Playboy playing cards they had swiped from their father’s porn stash in the tool shed. Their young cousin, Jed Harris, stared occasionally at the game over the top of a copy of Penthouse. David flipped through his hand, a boob here, a thick bush on the next one, and all with towering perms. Man, these cards were old.
“David, ante-up,” the twin brothers demanded in creepy unison. They were staring at him impatiently. He glanced down at the five cards in his hand. The five folded, nude centerfolds smiled back seductively.
“I think he’s having trouble concentrating,” taunted Jed from his magazine. “You need a time out to go jerk it?”
“Fuck no, he don’t,” said Wayne. “These cards gotta get back to my daddy’s shed untouched, that means no cum stains or stuck cards, you hear me?” He dropped his cards face down waiting for an answer. “No stealing any cards either.” That was directly to Jed.
“Does the joker count?” Jed, who was two years younger and twice as delinquent, popped up a hand holding Miss January 1987.
“Give me that.” Todd jerked the card out of his hand and went about fitting it back into the box. “Wayne, David ain’t gonna jiz on the cards. He’s got some manners.”
“Manners, my ass. That faggot wouldn’t know where to put his dick: hand or pussy.” Jed flashed his toothy grin. “Just fucking with ya.”
“Jed, the deck has two jokers.” Wade held his hand out.
“Don’t be a nig, your dad ain’t gonna miss one card.”
Jed looked back to his magazine. Todd didn’t miss a beat and let loose a blistering punch into Jed’s arm. Jed’s recoil shook the whole tree house.
“Owww… fuck dude, I wasn’t gonna keep it.” Jed pulled out another joker from his back pocket and slapped it on the makeshift table, a large electrical wire spool turned up on its side. “Fuck you, guys, I’m gone.”
He got up and dropped right through the trapdoor like he was parachuting into Normandy. This did not strike David as odd even though it was a near fifteen-foot drop to the ground.
“Good. Get out and don’t touch my fucking Playstation!” Todd shouted this through the open door as he re-united the two jokers in the box.
Wayne picked up his cards once again. “You know you’re dead don’t ya, David?” he said without glancing from his cards.
“We all gotta go sometime,” was David’s reply. He pitched a couple of chips into the center pot.
“That’s some morbid shit, dude. I call. Whatcha got?”
David’s hand of lovely centerfolds were all blank. He shifted the front card to the back a couple of times and laid them all out on the table. “I’ve got nothing.”
“Too bad, bro. Todd?” Wayne nodded at his twin brother.
“Doesn’t look good.” Todd’s hand consisted of five Tarot cards, each identical and depicting death. Todd looked wistfully at David. “Damn, Davey, even your dreams are a cliché (he pronounced this CLEE-SHEY)…death cards, my ass. Looks like I’m out.”
“Tough shit,” commented Wayne. “Sorry to do this to ya, Davey, but it looks like I win.”
