Demonheart

Richard’s heart thumped in his chest like a v8 engine firing on all pistons. He ran at full speed down the corridor, slamming the door open at the end. He’d made it outside, much to his own surprise. The rain felt cool against his skin. His lungs burned for the fresh oxygen of the outside world. He’d spent too much time within the confines of the Montague Museum he’d just exited. Behind him, back in the corridor, he could hear the sounds of something big and dangerous. He continued running through the courtyard towards his car. The satchel around his shoulder fluttered behind him like a cape in the wind.
“Shitshitshit!” He said to himself as the rifled through his pocket for his keys. He was nearing the green sedan just as a loud boom rang out. Whatever was chasing him had broken through the doors and was now out there with him. Richard slid to a stop as he reached the car. He found the proper key and with shaking hands inserted it into the key slot on the driver’s side door. The lock disengaged smoothly. He opened the door to the sedan and got in. He tossed the satchel into the passenger’s seat and started the car. He could still hear the tromping of the thing following him. He looked up. Fear momentarily paralyzed Richard as he saw nothing there. He could have sworn this entire time he’d been followed by some unimaginable beast.
Rain pelted the windshield as he started the car. He clicked on the windshield wipers. Between swipes, he stared out into the courtyard. It was still and quiet. Where had the beast gone? The doors to the museum lay on the ground broken and shattered. They’d definitely been blown off their hinges, but there was nothing in sight that could have done it. Richard threw the car into reverse and began to back out of the courtyard. He watched carefully behind him as the car pulled out. He made it to the road and let out a sigh of relief.
“Now, I just have to get this thing back to Mr. Donahue.” He said, patting the satchel.
Richard put the car in drive and began speeding up the road. The rain made soft pitter-pat sounds between each swipe of the wiper blades. Richard wiped the wetness from his face with his damp sleeve. It wasn’t much, but it helped just enough for him to see better. The roads were pretty clear. It was dark, but there should have been at least some traffic. He pulled onto the highway.
Richard drove for what felt like an eternity. His eyelids felt as if there were weights attached to them. To his luck, he saw a sign advertising a motel at the next turn-off. He didn’t want to stop, but figured it’d be okay. Whatever was after him was long behind, perhaps confined to the Montague Museum. Richard shook it off as a silly thought. He pulled off at the next exit and drove to the motel he’d seen on the billboard. It was run down, but still, it was better than nothing. The rain had just begun to let up.
The clerk at the front desk seemed bored. She was playing on her cell phone when he opened the door. The tinkle of the bell didn’t seem to phase her.
“Need a room?” The clerk asked.
“Yeah. You got anything open?”
“A few. How long’re you stayin’?” She finally put her phone down and looked up at Richard. Through tendrils of blonde hair, he could see she had gorgeous baby blue eyes.
“Just the night. I didn’t look at the sign, though. How much is it going to be?”
“Forty-five plus tax.”
Richard checked his wallet. He had two twenty dollar bills and a shopper’s card. He didn’t have any credit cards to his name. So much for not sleeping in the car.
“Any way I could talk you down? I’m a little short.”
A look of annoyance spread across the clerk’s face, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t negotiate the pricing here. Forty-five is a fair price.”
“C’mon, it’s been a long day. Can’t you just take forty? Or maybe spot me the rest? Something?”
“Look, I got rules to follow just like everyone else. I can’t be giving out handouts to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes through here. I don’t make enough for all that!”
Richard thought for a moment, then looked at the clerk, “That’s fine. I’ll just find somewhere else to stay for the night. Have a good one.” He smiled and exited the front office. The clerk sat back down and began furiously typing on her phone.

“Fucking bitch,” Richard said to himself as he got to the car. “Couldn’t spare five dollars. I’ll show her.”
He started his car and drove around the back of the motel. Just as he’d suspected, there were plenty of rooms to choose from and plenty of parking to boot. He backed into a spot that faced the motel, and took a quick survey of the scenery. He was out of view of the front office, not that the girl up front had even seen his vehicle to begin with. With a cursory glance, he ruled out all rooms with lights on. It was quite late, so there was a good chance there could be somebody in any other given room he tried, but he was willing to make the attempt. He needed a place to stay. Somewhere to think. Whatever had followed him out from the museum had him spooked and he wanted off the road as quickly as possible. At least until the morning.
Richard grabbed the satchel in the passenger’s seat and got out of the car, careful to close the door silently. He crept along the parking lot up to the first level of rooms. Some still had lights on. He made sure to duck along those windows, even though the curtains were drawn. He didn’t want to draw any undue attention to himself.
He found a room with the lights out. He listened at the door for a few moments. He could hear the loud sounds of someone snoring. Next, he thought. He checked a few more doors on the ground level. It wasn’t long before he realized he would need to move on to the next floor.
The stairwell was dark and smelled of urine. To its favor, it was enclosed and kept him hidden from sight. When he reached the second floor, he heard something coming from the corner room. He took a precautionary position and slowly crept up to the door. Before pressing his ear against the wood, he looked up and down the walkway and made sure there were no late night strollers about. When he was sure the coast was clear, he began listening.
Inside he could hear the rustling and banging more clearly. It was rhythmic in nature, but seemed wild at the same time. Richard took a moment and then chuckled to himself. Whoever was in there was having loud, obnoxious sex. He was able to relax a little at the revelation. He moved to the next door. The light was off and there were no sounds coming from inside. He took the shopper’s card from his wallet. It slid smoothly into the door jamb. He was able to jimmy the door lock with relative ease. Once inside, he engaged the deadbolt and then tossed the satchel onto the bed. It was a lot easier to steal a room here than he’d expected. Then again, it was some random shit hole on the outskirts of town. What more could be expected?
Richard sighed and clicked on the light. He made sure the curtains were pulled and then sat at the end of the bed. He wasn’t sure what he should do, but figured it’d be a good idea to make a game plan. He grabbed the satchel. The corner of a dirty rag hung out the side like the tongue of a mouth waiting to be opened. He flicked the latch on the front and threw the flap open. Though the light was on, the bag seemed eerily dark inside. He tugged on the rag. It pulled from the bag with little resistance. He held it in his hand, readying it as if he were about to grab something. Inside, something sparkled with a magnificent brilliance, despite the cheap hotel lighting. Richard used the rag and reached inside the bag. He grabbed the object. It was cool to the touch, even through the cloth wrapped around his hand. He pulled it out and was immediately awed, just as he was back at the museum when he’d originally nabbed it.
In his hand was a large jewel about the size of an apricot. It shone brilliantly in the cheap light, much brighter though than when it was in the bag. It was the color of toffee, polished to a most beautiful shine, with a smoky impurity right within the center. The longer Richard gazed at it, the more he felt he could see it actually moving inside. He shook the thought from his head. He didn’t believe such things could happen. He didn’t believe in the supernatural. But then he remembered the doors of the museum. As he’d exited, they’d been blasted off the hinges as if something were chasing him.
No, he thought to himself. It had to be some sort of macabre security feature. Blow the hell out of the perp. That’s it! If they couldn’t have whatever artifact was taken, then nobody would have it. It seemed the only logical explanation. He wondered if Mr. Donahue had known of this sort of defense feature. Then he wondered what sort of insane museum he’d stolen this priceless gem from. There was no pressure system, hardly any real security. No lasers, no guards. It was almost as if they wanted to get rid of the thing. Then why the explosives? Richard didn’t understand what was going on. He just knew that he needed to get this jewel to Mr. Donahue and get paid. There was a lot of money riding on its delivery and he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by. But to be able to deliver, he needed to get some rest. He was no good on the road in his current condition. Richard stuffed the jewel and rag into the satchel and then closed the snap. He checked the locks and deadbolt again before turning in for the night. He set the alarm on his watch to wake him up in a few hours, before checkout. He laid his head down to rest.

BOOM.

Richard opened his eyes. Something was there.

BOOM. The sound came again. In his groggy state, he could still discern whatever it was was right at the door and it wanted in. He immediately replayed in his mind the explosion from the museum. What if there really was something after him?
To his luck, Richard had been asleep in his clothes. He jumped up and grabbed the satchel. The loud boom came again, this time harder than before. The door cracked. It was going to break off the hinges soon. Richard slipped the satchel over his shoulder and then grabbed the blanket from the bed and pulled it over his body, taking careful consideration to cover his face and head. He poised himself and then waited. Just as the next hit registered and the door splintered open, he charged the big plate glass window and jumped. He felt the glass shatter as his body slammed into it. He felt the rough hardness of the concrete as his body landed. He felt the metal of the railing as it stopped him from tumbling over the side. He threw the cover off of his body and sprang up, feeling the broken glass crunch beneath him. He bolted for the stairs without thinking twice. He wasn’t going to stick around just to see what was obviously trying to kill him. He wanted to get as much distance between it and himself as he possibly could.
As he flew down the stairwell, he could hear the crunching of glass behind him. It was after him. He exited the stairs and ran as fast as he could to his car. It was just like back at the museum. He yanked the door open and jumped in. He shook. He tried to get the key into the ignition, but he just shook so damn much. Richard looked up. He could see the blanket dangling over the edge of the walkway. Small shards of glass tinkled as they fell over the side and hit the ground below. Near the blanket, Richard saw a dark figure standing, staring. It was nothing like he’d expected. The figure jumped over the railing and landed with another loud boom. It stood, tilting its head to the side as if cracking its neck. It stood taller than the average male. Richard tried to see more about its features, but around its edges swirled a darkness much like shadows. It began to walk towards him. The steps echoed.
“Fuck!” He shouted. The figure got even closer. He finally got the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine started. Richard threw the car in drive and tore out of the parking lot just as the clerk from earlier came running around the corner.
“What the fuck!” He could hear her yell. She still clung to her mobile phone as the figure gripped her around the throat.

The tires of Richard’s sedan skidded and shrieked as he swung out onto the road. He headed straight for the highway. He still had a ways to go to get rid of this beautiful, wretched jewel. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be followed anymore, he hoped. He punched the gas and fired down the offramp. He could have sworn he saw the figure standing off to the side in the shadows as he passed. He didn’t have time to care, though. He continued driving. He was still groggy and worn. He checked his watch. He’d only been asleep for an hour. He gripped the steering wheel and pushed on. His adrenaline alone would get him through the night.

Then the engine began to sputter. Richard checked the gauge. He’d completely forgotten to fill up on gas. He slammed his fist into the dash.
“Dammit!” He said and pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road.

He clutched the satchel as he exited the sedan. He made sure to kick a tire before he began walking away. A recent sign pointed out he wasn’t far from a diner. He hoped there was someone there, someone who could give him a ride. Or maybe he’d just steal a car. It didn’t matter. He was going to make it to Mr. Donahue and get rid of this damned jewel, once and for all.

The night air was cool, balmy. It whipped through Richard’s hair, tossing it about occasionally. He continued clutching the satchel as he walked. The street lights shone bright in the night, casting deep shadows under Richard as he trekked down the highway. He couldn’t help but watch behind himself. It was dark, but he didn’t see anything following him. Very rarely would he see a pair of passing headlights on the road. Mostly they would be heading the opposite direction, but the occasional traveler would pass going his way. He tried holding his thumb out.
“Fuck you!” The driver screamed out the window and then laid on the horn. Richard held up a middle finger and then continued walking. Something rustled in the bushes near him. His heart jumped up into his throat. He held the satchel against his chest with both hands. He kept his eyes on the bush as he backed away. It rustled again. He ran. He ran as fast as he could. A small rabbit jumped onto the side of the road.

Richard ran until his feet hurt. His chest heaved, lungs burning, heart thumping. He was coated with sweat. He had no idea how long he’d been running, but from the looks of things, whatever was behind him was long gone. He was amazed. It wasn’t until he slowed down that he began to notice the small things around him: the gravel crunching underfoot, the tiny moving shadows of the bushes near the road swaying in the breeze. As he walked, he noticed ahead one of the streetlights was out, breaking the string of lights that illuminated the road. He stopped walking. Richard wasn’t sure if he should or even could just run through the deep shadow. He thought of the figure from the motel. What if it’d done it? There was no way, he was long gone. But then again, that’s what he’d thought when he got to the motel. What if he had been followed again? Richard mustered himself. He couldn’t let these thoughts get to him any more than they had. He had to get to Mr. Donahue and collect and be done with this shit storm of a night. He began to run again.
The night air blew over Richard’s moist forehead. It cooled him as he ran further into the darkness. At that moment he feared for his life, but he clutched the satchel holding the brilliant jewel and pushed on. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing.
He flew threw the darkness and emerged in the light of the next street lamp. There was nothing for him to fear anymore. If the figure from the motel was following him, it would have made its move by now. It would have had to appear by now. Richard began to feel more confident in himself. He slowed his pace to a jog. He was tired, but he knew he needed to make it to the diner and find a ride. Another sign indicated he was very close. He just had to keep moving.

Around a bend, Richard could see the lights of the twenty-four hour diner shining just in the distance. He felt relief wash over him. He could see a few cars and an RV in the parking lot. He was tired and worn out, but he made it to the diner. He continued jogging wile clutching his satchel. He could feel the lump of the jewel wrapped in the rag through the material. It made him want to reach in look at it again. He felt drawn to it. He shook the thought from his head. There wasn’t any time to enjoy the beauty of the gemstone. Richard stopped for a moment. What was he thinking? He hadn’t cared about how “beautiful” the Demonheart had been since he lifted it. Why had he begun to care now? Was it drawing him in? Attracting him? Is that how it worked? He thought about the swirling smoke in the center of it. Had it truly moved inside that solid stone? He wanted to reach inside the satchel and examine the stone in the light of the road lamp even more now. The urge felt powerful. Against his better judgment, he pulled the stone out. Under the light of the street lamp, it almost glittered. Richard paid attention to the center of the jewel. It did move. It visibly swirled in on itself, more actively than back at the motel. What was going on?
“I gotta keep moving.” Richard said to himself. He tucked the Demonheart back into the bag and let it fall back to his side. He began jogging towards the diner again. Behind him, something shifted in the shadows.

The closer he got to the diner, the more Richard could smell the bouquet of fresh diner steak and eggs and coffee and other wonderful scents. Richard’s stomach began to rumble. He hadn’t eaten all day. He didn’t have time to eat, though. He had to make it to Mr. Donahue first. As he closed in on the diner, he paid close attention to any movement coming from the inside. The windows were large plate glass that spanned around the majority of the building. Inside, he could see a very large man sipping from a mug at the bar. The waitress stood behind the counter talking to him. An older couple sat at a booth near the front window. He got closer and snuck around to the back of the building. He wanted to stay out of sight as much as possible. He planned to steal a vehicle and continue his journey.
There were a couple of vehicles in the back of the diner. One was a large truck. Red, with a rebel flag vanity license plate. The other was a small blue coupe. Based on the size difference alone, he figured the smaller car would get the better mileage. He chose the small blue car. He tried the door handle. To his luck, it was open. He entered the vehicle and opened up the lower dash panel. Wires fell out, dangling like red, blue, and green veins. He began hot-wiring the car. It had been a while since the last time he’d had to do this, but he was able to get the car started after a few tries. There was a distinct squeaking of the timing belt. Richard was worried someone would recognize the sound and come out. On the other side of the building, there came the sound of busting glass. He put the car into gear and began to pull out from the parking lot. As he turned the car, the back door of the diner flew open. In the doorway stood the dark figure from the motel, from the museum. Richard’s adrenaline began to pump as the figure started walking towards him. He punched the gas and swung out hard. He momentarily lost control of the vehicle and backed into a light post. The car stalled. He immediately started trying to restart it.

The figure got close to the car just as it restarted. Richard threw the car into drive and took off towards the front of the diner. As he pulled around the RV, he could see the horror in the diner. The old couple had been thrown clear through the window. The older man hung halfway out. The woman was on the ground in the parking lot. The large man was slumped over the counter. He was covered in blood; his back splayed out. The car stalled again.
“Shit!” Richard regretted not going for the truck now. Even though it probably guzzled gas, it was probably more reliable than this piece of shit. Just then the passenger side window exploded. The dark figure was grasping at him from the jagged hole. Richard bailed out the driver’s side and began to crawl on the ground. He had to find some way to get back to get back to the truck and get the hell out of there. The figure pulled its hand back from the hole and paced around the side of the car. Richard hopped to his feet and did his best to keep the dead vehicle between the two of them. They circled the car several times. Every step of the way, he tried his best to get a closer look at the person chasing him. Even in the light of the sodium vapor lamps, it was hard to get a good bead on the details of the mysterious figure. As if it were made of shadows, it seemed to swirl around the edges. He could see, though, its eyes. They were a familiar brown. Now that he was closer, they seemed to glow against the blackened skin. What was he up against here.
They circled the car one more time. This time, the diner was to Richard’s back. The figure lifted a fist and bashed the roof of the car. It crumpled in, blowing out the windshield. Richard took the opportunity to make a run for it. He ran for the diner. The figure stood and watched. It was on the other side of the car and unable to immediately give chase after him. As soon as Richard made it inside the diner, he slammed the door shut and turned the lock. He looked up. The figure was still standing there. Then it began to move around the demolished car. It walked toward the open plate glass window. Richard’s heart pounded. He turned and bolted for the back door. The door to the back of the diner was wide open. When he crossed the counter he knew why. On the floor, the waitress lay. A large chef’s knife stuck out her back.
“I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to need this.” Richard said as he pulled the knife out. It was covered with blood and gore. He could hear the crunch of the glass from the window at the front. He turned his head to see the figure standing over the old man. It began to climb through. Richard pulled the body from the doorway and locked it behind him. This would hopefully buy him some time. As soon as he turned to run through the back, he was hit with a horrible stench. On the cooking grill, the lone cook lay, burning and sizzling. With the way his head was sitting, Richard determined his neck had to have been snapped. He gagged and then ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The door wasn’t far from the grill, but it felt like he was miles away. It still sat ajar from when the figure originally burst through. Just then a loud boom came from the door behind him. The figure was there and this door wasn’t going to hold nearly as long as the motel room door. It burst open just as Richard cleared the back door and was back out into the night air. He slammed into the side of the truck, unable to come to a full stop. The knife clinked on the ground. He’d dropped it in the collision. He reached down to pick it up. The figure was in the doorway. He tried the door. This one was locked.
“Damn.” He muttered to himself. It began to walk towards him. He climbed into the bed of the truck and readied the knife. “You want me, fucker!? Come and get me!” He noticed the back window was open. He was just small enough to fit through it if only he had enough time.”
The figure stopped at the front of the truck. It held out its hand. Richard was baffled. It wasn’t trying to kill him like it had everyone else.
“What do you want?” He asked. It sat there, palm outstretched. Richard thought for a moment and then slowly began to reach into his satchel with his free hand. “You want this, don’t you?” He held up the rag after digging around a little. It was balled up. The figure’s eyes seemed to flash red. It wanted the Demonheart.
“Then go get it!” He yelled as he threw the balled up rag. It sailed far, landing in a ditch near the outskirts of the diner’s parking lot. The figure grunted then turned and ran for the rag. Richard took the opportunity to throw the knife and satchel through the window and then climb through himself. It took a few moments, but he was able to squeeze through. Meanwhile, the figure was closing in on the rag in the ditch. Richard needed to start the truck. He tried to pull the underside of the dash out like the previous car and hot-wire it, but it proved to be more difficult than before. He beat his fist on the dash and into his lap fell the keys from the sun visor. He stuck the truck key into the ignition and turned it. It started with a loud growl and churned. He threw the truck into gear and flew out of the parking space. Just as he blew past the figure, it let out a howl. It must have found the rock Richard had wrapped in the rag.
He swung past the stalled car in the middle of the lot and then swung out onto the night road. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. He didn’t know if the figure would still chase him in the sunlight, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He punched the gas and sped down the highway just as he had before. He made sure to check the gas gauge. The truck had half a tank.
That should be enough to finish this, he thought.
He knew exactly where he was going. His eyes burned as he drove. He could barely keep them open. The adrenaline was wearing off. A small part of him wished he were still being chased just so he could keep his strength up. That’s fucking stupid he thought to himself. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that monster. That thing. It couldn’t be a person. No human being could have done that back at the diner. He thought of the old couple thrown through the glass. The knife in the back of the waitress. He felt over in the passenger’s seat. The knife. In a way, it brought him some solace, some hope that if he were still being followed he could defend himself. But what good had it done her? Richard sighed.
The sun had now risen a good deal. The sky was a bright blue. Richard was almost where he needed to be. He smiled to himself. A big victory for the little guy. He would get his money and be done with the nightmare. Nothing was going to stop him.
There was a loud bang and the truck began to limp. One of the tires had blown. Richard wanted to slam on the brakes and veer onto the shoulder, but he knew better. He tapped the gas and maintained his speed and slowly began to pull off the road. He came to a stop in the gravel near the exit he needed. The truck door creaked as he pushed it open. He took care getting out as now there was more traffic on the road.
“Shredded.” Richard said to himself as he examined the front driver’s side tire. It was indeed shredded and there was not a spare anywhere on the vehicle. Richard kicked the fender. He reached inside the cab and tucked the knife into his satchel before pulling it out and slinging it up on his shoulder. One thing after another. Every hindrance he could have run into had made its way to him, but he wasn’t giving up. He began hiking up the shoulder down the exit ramp and across the street. He wasn’t far from Mr. Donahue’s home, where they had intended to meet.
Even though it was daytime, Richard watched his back every so often as he ran down the side of the road. He wasn’t sure if he was more worried about the thing following him or random drivers. Each may have been equally dangerous. Maybe.

The walk to Mr. Donahue’s was relatively short. Tense, but short. Richard found himself sweaty and out of breath under the morning sun by the time he arrived. He needed subsistence. He stood in front of the familiar, modest sized, blue Gablefront home. There was a beautiful garden beneath the front windows; well-maintained and flowering. Mr. Donahue was much richer than his home would belie, he knew, and this was all just a front. He gave one more cursory glance behind himself and then walked up to the door. The garden was fragrant. He knocked hard several times. He could hear light shuffling coming from the inside. He waited patiently as he caught his breath. He patted the satchel to make sure the stone was still inside. He felt the hard apricot sized jewel through the canvas material. He could also feel something else hard inside. It was long, thin, and tapered to a point. The knife. He knocked again. This time there was silence. Was he being blown off?
“Mr. Donahue!” Richard called through the door. He didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to himself, but Donahue was leaving him with little choice. He banged on the door.
Silence.
He tried the doorknob. To his surprise, it turned. He pushed the door open some. Nothing stirred. He pushed it open further. He could see inside. The foyer seemed fine. There was nothing amiss. He closed the door behind himself. It wasn’t until Richard reached the living room that things seemed off. The furniture was overturned, the couch broken in the middle. Then there was the blood. It was pooled mostly in the middle of the floor, but the trail leading off from the puddle indicated someone had been dragged through it. It lead to the kitchen. Richard’s stomach was in knots. He reached into his satchel and pulled the blood-stained knife from inside. He crept through the living room, following the bloody trail.
“Mr. Donahue?” He whispered. There was no response. He gripped the knife tighter.
“Mr. Donahue, are you okay?” He didn’t expect a response, but Richard tried to prepare himself for what may come. He followed the blood into the kitchen.

In his years of petty theft and light muggings, Richard had never seen anything like this. Strewn about the kitchen was the carcass, the remnants of Mr. Donahue. On the table in the middle of the small dining area lie a mangled torso, torn open and gutted. In the sink was an arm. His left arm. Barely hanging from the torso was his left leg, coated in blood and sinew. His right arm lay on the floor in front of Richard. He gagged at the sight, the smell of it all. Richard dropped the knife and fell to his knees. He cupped his mouth with his hand. It did not stop the flow of vomit from spewing from between his fingers. Then something stirred in the next room over just past the dining area.

He reached down for the knife, gripping it and some of the blood from the floor. He shivered. He didn’t know much about Mr. Donahue, but he couldn’t think of a single reason he could have deserved an end like this. Richard gripped the knife with all his strength. His knuckles were white with exhaustion and fear.
“Come get some, motherfucker.” He whispered to himself as he crept through the blood and gore towards the dining area. Richard made sure to watch his footing and not slip in the macabre scene at his feet. His heart raced as he reached the corner. He could hear something tearing. Chewing. His stomach turned more. With what strength he could muster, he pulled himself around the corner to face what was before him. Upon his first gaze, his hand began to tremble uncontrollably. The thing, whatever it was, that had been chasing him stood with its back turned to him. It was busy with something in its hands. And then it stopped. Slowly it turned to face Richard and he could see what it had been doing. In its hands was Mr. Donahue’s head. The face had been eaten clean off. The creature stood there and through the swirling edges, the smokey appearance, it seemed to…smile at him?
“What the fuck do you want?” Richard shouted at it. It continued to chew.
“What the fuck do you want??” He repeated louder. It stopped. Mr. Donahue’s head fell to the floor. It took a step towards Richard.
“I’m not afraid of you, motherfucker! I’m not afraid!” He trembled and began to back away. The creature slowly followed him back towards the kitchen. Richard took a few more steps backward and suddenly tripped over something. Mr. Donahue’s separated arm. He fell backwards and landed flatly on his buttocks. He tried to gain a foothold, but could do nothing more than slip around in the blood. The creature took a few more steps.
“Stay back! You, you stay the fuck back!” Richard scrambled on the floor, waving the knife in a flaccid attempt to be menacing. The creature snickered and quickly closed the gap between itself and Richard.
“I said stay back!” He gripped the knife as tight as he could. The creature lunged, swiping hard and fast. The knife plunged deep into its hand. A wispy tendril of smoke seeped from the wound as the creature recoiled, taking the knife with it. With a deep bellowing laugh, it was upon him again, swiping with the other hand, tearing his shirt and breaking the strap to his satchel. Hot pain seethed across his chest where the creature’s claws scratched. It was reeling back, readying to strike again. In that moment, Richard thought he could see just past the smoke. Just past the moving shadows. He could see into the creatures eyes. They were a familiar color. A lot like…toffee.
The creature pulled back, almost ready to swing. Richard quickly reached for the satchel. The torn strap made it somewhat difficult to pull around, but he managed to put it between himself and the creature just as it swiped. This time it tore through the back and struck the stone lying just beneath the thing material. It recoiled again, this time howling, as if in pain. The jewel tumbled onto the bloody floor, the surface scratched and cracked. A thin column of smoke seeped from the fissure.
As the creature continued to bellow, Richard used every ounce of strength within him to push the creature off of him. It fell backward, the knife dislodged from its hand on Richard’s other side. He rolled over to grab it. Just as his hand gripped the handle, he felt another bolt of searing hot pain register on his back. The creature was still recovering, but had fought to its feet and struck Richard as he reached for the knife. It growled and grunted as it tried to regain composure. Richard winced in pain, but gripped the knife with what little strength he had left. The shadowy creature then stretched back and slashed at Richard again. He screamed out in pain and then coughed up blood. He was beginning to slip out of consciousness. The creature readied another strike. Just then Richard grabbed the cracked, smoking jewel and gripped it tight in his fist.
“You want this? Fuck you.” He gurgled as he stabbed downward with the knife, piercing the jewel fully and exiting out the back of his own hand. He cried out in pain as the blood-spattered, toffee colored gem cracked and shattered into chunks and bits, releasing a tuft of acrid smoke into the air. The creature screamed and clasped its head in its hands. It writhed and squirmed. It’s features began to crack and crumble. The shifting shadows around it began to dissipate. Richard used the opportunity to scrunch and slither across the floor. Unable to get up, he was forced to crawl on his belly and elbows like a worm to the safety of the living room just around the corner. He quickly pulled his legs through the threshold and curled into a ball. Something big was coming.

The creature, still in the kitchen, continued to shake in pain. It roared and screamed, clutching its cracking, flaking skull for dear life. It’s body, now more visible, was covered with fissures, large and small. It crumbled and cracked with each bit of movement. Smoke began to seep from its wounds. The same acrid smoke from the jewel. It filled the kitchen and encroached on the living room. After a few moments, the creature’s wailing came to an abrupt halt. Richard waited a few moments. Nothing happened. He could still hear pieces of the creature’s body chip off and fall to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he was more or less afraid at this point. But he mustered up what little courage he still had in him and turned on the floor. He wriggled forth and poked his head through the kitchen threshold. The creature stood there in the smoke like modern art. Like a statue. Its head still clasped in its hands. It’s mouth frozen in an endless scream. It’s eyes, now that Richard could see them, were the same color as the Demonheart he’d pilfered. What looked like pupils were sunbursts of cracks spider-webbing out from the centers. Eerie. Ominous.

Richard winced in pain at the knife still in his hand. He then grit his teeth, gripped the handle and yanked as hard as he could. Or at least he tried. The knife held tight. He hadn’t realized just how deep it was until now. He tried again, this time grunting with maximal effort. The knife tore free with a slight spray of blood. He let it clatter to the floor. The creature, still transfixed, stared into nothingness.
Using the sturdiness of the threshold, Richard pulled himself into a sitting position. The smoke began to dissipate. His back stung against the wall, but it was all he could do to keep conscious. His hand steadily bled onto the floor, drip by drip. He listened to the quiet “plip” of his life force splashing against the linoleum floor. It was almost soothing to hear something beyond the chipping off of the monster standing not fifteen feet away from him. He rolled onto his knee and began to rise to his feet. A bolt of pain shot up his back. He winced and groaned. The smoke in th kitchen had all but gone away. Richard took the opportunity to limp over to the strange being and examine what had been chasing him throughout the night.

The body of the monster stood taller than any person he’d ever seen. Its skin was cracked and chipped, but nonetheless shown brilliantly of polished onyx. Its eyes, those eyes. Just like the Demonheart gem he’d stolen. He glanced over at the bits and pieces of the gem laying in a scattered pile on the floor. What had it all been for? What difference did it make now? Mr. Donahue was dead. There was no money. But at least it was over. Richard let loose an audible sigh. He turned and began to limp from the kitchen. Before he’d fully exited, he heard a sound that made his stomach drop. It was the familiar tinkling of gems hitting the floor. He turned to see the creature was still holding its head, still frozen in its silent scream, but now it was facing him. It began to creak. Out of instinct, Richard dove for the living room as he knew nothing good could come of this. He made it back through the threshold just as the creature’s cracked and fissured body exploded, sending shards every which way about it. Richard stayed huddled on the floor for a few moments, waiting for anything and everything else that may come afterward.

Besides the sound of rubble falling to the ground, there was nothing to register. Richard poked his head up from the dust and debris. The wall between the rooms had been all but completely blown out. He could see directly into the kitchen. He stood again. Through the hole he could see the dismembered parts of Mr. Donahue. He could see the creature, or rather what was left of it. A hand. Its feet. Shards upon shards littering the floor. Essentially, it was disintegrated. He could see all the damage the creature’s exploded body had caused. Dishes and cabinets shattered. Chairs decimated. It truly was a horror show. He slowly backed away from the kitchen and then turned to head towards the front door. Just as he reached the portal, something caught his eye. Lodged in the wall near the window was a gem. Similar to the Demonheart, the gem was a rich toffee color. It was somewhat smaller than the original gem, but no less beautiful. Something within urged him to go for it. There would have to be a buyer out there somewhere who would pay top dollar for something like this. There had to be another Mr. Donahue somewhere. Richard rubbed the back of his head, releasing dust and drywall into the air. He still wanted that ultimate payoff. He walked over to the wall and examined the gem. It gleamed even through the dust. There was enough of it sticking out for him to grab hold and pull. With some effort, it dislodged from its temporary home in the wall. Richard looked the gem over some more. Within its confines he could see, much like the Demonheart, it swirled inside with a smokey iridescence. This definitely wasn’t the same gem. It was better. Richard stuffed it into his pocket and turned back to the door once again.
Richard opened the door and was greeted with the fresh scent of the garden in front of the house. He took a deep breath, swallowing the sweet air in one big gulp. He had survived the night and patting his pocket knew something good would happen in his future. It was in the cards, it just had to be. He took a step onto the porch and into the bright sunlight, absorbing the rays of warmth all over his body. It was such a beautiful day. He walked down the driveway and sat down on the curb. His body was taxed. He felt as if he couldn’t move much further. But he needed to. He had to. He couldn’t stay any longer. Soon the place would be swarming with cops and onlookers expecting and explanation. He peered back at the house. The side windows had been blown out and small shards stuck out of the building as if it had suddenly grown small onyx formations. Looking back in front of him, there were already several people exiting their homes, gawking at the mess behind him. In the distance sirens began to blare. That was his cue. Richard pushed himself to his feet and began to trek down the road. An older man in a bathrobe hustled out from his home and through one of the greenest yards Richard had ever seen. He must have put a fortune into it. The man stopped just short of the fence surrounding the yard.
“Hey, you!” He called out to Richard. Richard continued walking. “Hey, I’m talking to you! What happened in there?”
Richard continued walking. The man continued shouting at Richard until he passed. The words caught in his throat when he saw Richard’s torn and brutalized back. His mouth hung open and his gaze shifted between Richard and the house and then hung on the house. He couldn’t fathom what had gone on within those walls. Just as the police showed up, he turned again, expecting to see the battered man still walking up the street. He was nowhere to be seen.

Stay With Me

William set the empty glass down on the bar. It was his seventh beer and he was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol full force. “One more for the road.” He said as the bartender passed. He laid a five dollar bill on the bar. The bartender nodded and began to fill another glass. William welcomed the ice cold beer as comfort for a bad day gone by. He’d recently broken up with his girlfriend of several years; a dumb fight over where they were going in life. He felt he  was heading right, but apparently she was turning left. It just wasn’t working out. It made his head hurt more and more as he thought about it. He drowned his sorrows in a large gulp of beer.
“Thanks, Clyde.” He said with a sigh. The bartender nodded in his direction once again and then turned to help other patrons. William felt a bit more woozy after imbibing the alcohol, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to feel anything but drunk at the moment. He finished the beer and turned on his stool. The ground seemed to sway beneath him as soon as his feet touched. He took a moment to collect his bearings.
“You gonna be okay?” Clyde asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
“Yeah. Yeah, I just need a moment.” William responded. His head was swimming. It felt good. He took a few steps just to be sure and then he was out the door. The night air was balmy, blissful. It felt great on his skin. The only thing that could bring down his mood was the realization that he needed to make his way back to the hotel. She’d decided it’d be best if he left. He didn’t agree, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He found it wasn’t too difficult to pass as sober once he’d gotten the rhythm down again. He walked a few blocks before he encountered nay other bodies on the sidewalk. Under a street lamp, on a bus bench, a young couple sat there, making out right in the open. William found himself feeling disgusted, but not at the audacity. It was simply just them being there. He was jealous. Deep down inside, he missed what he had before. A small part of him wanted to call home, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he should let it go, at least for the night. He kept walking.
He passed several darkened stores before he decided to stop under another street lamp and check the time on his watch. It was close to two in the morning. He felt himself missing the comfort of his bed. His head swam a little. The alcohol was wearing off slowly, but he still felt it coursing through is veins. He noticed a corner store about a block up and figured he’d cap the night off with a six-pack and some late night television. He began to wonder why he’d even left the bar in the first place, but then he remembered he just really wanted to be alone. He was tired of the bar scene. Jaded, even. It just wasn’t his scene.
William made it to the store just before the alcohol cutoff time and purchased a six-pack, though the clerk was skeptical of his condition. He smiled to himself, though it seemed an impotent gesture. He had no reason to smile. His night had not been good. The beer was simply a cushion for the blow dealt to him by life. Life. Fuck life he thought. He leaned against the wall just outside the shop, outside of the view of the clerk, and popped the top off one of the beer bottles. He wasn’t far from the hotel and he had no intentions of waiting to get there before he kept the suds flowing. Just as he took a sip, he heard what sounded like shouting nearby down an alley not far from the shop. Against his better judgment, he decided to check out the commotion.
As he neared the lip of the alley, he could more or less clearly hear the sounds of several men. And then he heard the whimper of a woman. His blood turned to ice in his veins. He set the now five-pack down and poked his head into the alley. Under a flood light at the end of the alley, he could see three average sized males crowding around a young looking female. One of the men, wearing a plaid and denim jacket, did the majority of the noisemaking, the other two were more his backup vocals.
“Where is he?” The jacketed man screamed at her. “Where the fuck is Sam!?” She cowered in fear as he balled his fist and looked as though he was about to strike her. One of the other men cracked his knuckles.
“HEY!” William yelled down the alley, still holding his now half-full beer. The three stopped in their tracks and looked behind them to the entrance of the alley.
“Get the fuck outta here. This has nothing to do with you.” The jacketed man said.
“Yeah,” came his backup. “This ain’t got nothing to do with you!”
William started walking down the alleyway. He didn’t know if it was his disdain for violence against women or the alcohol or both, but something inside him welled up and forced him to take action against these thugs. “Look, I’m not looking for trouble, but I’m not gonna let you hurt that girl.”
The three men laughed. William cracked the bottle against the wall of the building nearest him, breaking it. The remaining liquid splashed to the ground. He gripped the neck like a knife and continued down the alley. None of the three men seemed to want to tangle with him.
“Look, pal, we’re just trying to find our friend. He was with this bitch last we saw.” The jacketed man pointed at the girl as he and his friends backed away.
“Well, try to find him somewhere else. Beating her up isn’t gonna get you shit. She obviously doesn’t know where he is, do you?”
The young woman whimpered and pressed her back against a garbage can. She was obviously shaken by the incident.
William held the broken bottle up. “See? Now get the hell out of here before it gets messy.”
The jacketed man turned to his friends, “Let’s go, guys. This bitch is his problem now.”
They circled around each other until the gang of thugs was closer to the exit of the alley. They then broke into a run, disappearing into the night. When he was sure the coast was clear, he dropped the broken bottle and approached the young woman.
“Are you okay?” He asked as he held a hand out to her. She flinched, as if expecting to be hit. “It’s okay, I promise. I won’t hurt you.”
The young woman hesitated and then slowly put her hand in his. It was cold and clammy. He led her to the edge of the alleyway and then looked around, just to be safe. His beer was still where he’d left it and the three men were nowhere in sight. “Okay, we’re good. Let’s go.”
He decided to take her back to his hotel room, just to be sure she was safe, even if only for the night.

When they arrived at the hotel, William fumbled some with the cardkey. Partly because he was not fully familiar with these devices and partly because the shock of the altercation hadn’t fully sobered him up. He eventually got the door open and with the woman in tow, entered his room. After she passed the threshold, he made sure to close the door and lock the deadbolt. Not only was he worried the thugs may have followed from afar, he didn’t want any seedy elements barging in on them in general. Better safe than sorry.
He turned the light on, put the remaining beer into the fridge, and then let himself fall onto the bed. He rubbed his face with both hands. He couldn’t believe what he’d gotten himself into. He checked the time again. It was barely three. He looked at the girl to see her still standing near the door.
He motioned to the table and chair near the television set. “You can have a seat. Or do you want to take the bed? I don’t mind, I promise.”
She didn’t move. She just stood and stared at him.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded slightly and took her time sitting down at the table. William decided to start from the top, “What’s your name?”
She shook her head.
“What’s that mean? You don’t remember or you don’t have a name? I’m confused.” William didn’t know what to make of her. She sat there staring at him, though.
“Okay, well, we’ll come back to that later, I guess.” He sat up and took a closer look at her in the light. She had red hair, cut short. Her face was dirty.
“Do you want to clean up in the shower? I don’t mind.” She stood and began to walk towards the bathroom. William closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed. He heard the click of the light switch in the bathroom. He heard the door shut. He heard the water turn on. What was this chick’s story? What was her name? Something just seemed off about her. He wondered to himself just what he could have gotten himself into. Who was this girl? He waited a few moments while she showered before he got back up and walked over to the fridge. Inside was the beer he had just brought back as well as a half eaten pizza. He grabbed a slice and bit into it. It was lukewarm. This hotel was a piece of shit. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television as he sat back on the bed eating his pizza. At least the cable channels came it clear. He turned it to the sports channel. A rerun of the previous afternoon’s SportsCenter was on. He watched for a little while before the bathroom door opened. He hadn’t even noticed the shower shutting off. The girl walked out naked and wet. William was taken completely by surprise. He didn’t have time to avert his eyes. Shocked, he gazed at her thin, dripping wet body. Her breasts were small and perky. Her skin was alabaster white. Pale as porcelain. He looked her over. Her pubic mound was a fiery red. She stood directly in front of him, her own gaze steady on him.
“Do—do you want a towel? There should be one back in the—” He wasn’t able to finish. She jumped on him, kissing him. His lips tingled. He was taken aback by her actions. At first he tried to push her away. All he could think of was his girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend. What had begun as disapproval soon turned to acceptance. He kissed her back. He couldn’t resist. She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his waist. William did nothing to deny her what she wanted. She reached down with both hands and tore his shirt open and began kissing his chest, licking his nipples.
“Wait, I don’t even know your—” She put a hand over his mouth. He quieted immediately. Her hand slid away, smoothly, silkily. She continued kissing him over his body, slowly moving her way down. He moaned. He didn’t normally, but tonight, he moaned. She unbuckled his pants and slid them down. Before he could move, she had taken him into her mouth. His penis began to tingle just as his lips. He loved the feeling.
“Oooh,” he moaned as she caressed his shaft with her tongue. It wasn’t long before he felt he was going to release. “Keep going. Please, keep going.” He whispered. She massaged his genitals with fervor until he ejaculated into her mouth. She continued going for a few more moments before she stopped and let him fall limply from her lips. He felt dizzy. The strange woman crawled up the bed to his side and held him tightly. She was still wet, cold.
“Stay with me.” She whispered. He felt himself slipping into an inevitable sleep. It was so late and he was spent.
Soon the darkness overtook him and he was out. In his sleep, his mind raced. He dreamt of the conflict in the alleyway. He dreamt of the girl, this dirty vixen cowering in fear. What was it about her? In his dreams she seemed different, though. He saw her as the redhead she was, but something about her face. Her face was twisted and distorted. Her eyes were missing, her mouth like that of a lamprey, sucking and hissing. Her monstrous visage turned toward William as he got closer to her and let out a shriek and then he opened his eyes.
William tried to move, but found his body was mostly numb and tingling. He could barely move his hands. His left hand lay by his side. His right was over his chest. In the dark, he could barely feel something twisting and writhing over him as he struggled to regain control of his body. He heard a hiss. He was able to move his right hand, albeit barely. His chest felt slick and slimy. He felt the writhing again. In the little bit of light shining in from the moon outside he could see something above him. He slowly stretched his hand out to the lamp near the bed, his fingers tingled with every movement of his muscles. He was able to click on the light. What he saw horrified him. The girl no longer lay by his side, but straddled him once again. This time, she had changed. She wasn’t the same. Her body was slimy, as if she’d melted. The sickening gore coated his body, numbing him. She twisted and writhed over him, covering him more and more. He looked up at her face. It was just as he had dreamed, a horrible, toothed face, sucking and hissing. She, it, moved over him. His body began to feel as though it were on fire. He tried to scream, but there was no sound. The creature spread further over his body. He tried to kick his legs, but found no motor control. He struggled internally, his mind raced.
What was going on? What was this girl? Was he going to die? What was it doing to him? And then he came to the realization he was being digested. There was no other explanation. This girl, this creature, was eating him. As he lay in the bed, still trying to fight his immobility, the thing brought its sucker face close to his. It hissed, but this time there were words.
“Stay with me.” It gurgled out. A tear streaked down his face. His body burned with an intensity he’d never known. It was then he realized he would have no choice but to stay with her. He would become a part of her. He was hers.

Mr. Bixby

Weeks passed between attempts to get little Saul into the closet. The clown would bide his time. He didn’t want to rush what would have to be one of the best meals of his lifetime. Little 8 year old Saul was by far the juiciest, most tender child the clown had ever laid eyes on. It had been a year since his family moved into the old house. Even longer since he’d had a meal this delectable. Every night he would watch him sleep from the crack in the door frame. Every night he would salivate; anticipating that moment when he’d finally come to the closet and become his meal. Tonight he would try again.
The clown pushed on the door from the inside. It creaked open ever so slightly. The young child lay in his bed snoring. He whispered, “Saul. Wake up. Come and play with me.” Saul stirred in his bed, but not enough to the clown’s liking. He pushed just a little more on the door. Its squeak was just barely audible over the sound of the fan blowing in Saul’s room. It was a warm night. Perfect for a good meal. The boy seemed to be listless in his sleep. He stirred some more. Now was the clown’s chance. Today he would get his prize. He pushed on the door one more time and it swung open. The clown stood there in the threshold holding three balloons and a cone of cotton candy. The smell of popcorn and funnel cake began to fill the room. The sounds of the circus were behind the clown, low, but audible. The moonlight finally lay upon him, showing him brightly in the night. His suit was colorful with three large pompoms down the middle of the torso. His hair was a wild red, matching the large nose on his face and the floppy shoes on his feet. His skin was white like costume paint. In his mouth were several rows of sharp, pointy, crooked teeth.
“Saul.” He quietly called out in a sing-songy voice. He was ready and raring to play. He only needed the kid to wake up and join him in the pitch black of the closet. He had no real power or strength to feast outside of it. It was his curse. Saul let out a quiet moan. He was beginning to wake! The clown was careful not to scare him. He’d been trying for so long to finally seal the deal. “Saul, wake up! It’s time to play.” The clown tiptoed closer to Saul’s bed.
“Hmm?” Saul let out as his eyelids fluttered, eyes adjusting to the dark. He sat up in his bed. Now the clown only needed the right thing to tempt him into joining him in the closet.
“Come with me, Saul. We’ll have lotsa fun.” The clown motioned to the closet. The pitch black portal.
“Mr. Bixby? Is that you?” The clown had a name.
“Yes, it’s me. Are you ready to play?” Mr. Bixby grinned a toothy grin at the young child. He edged closer towards the bed.
“I can’t. It’s the middle of the night. You know that. Why don’t you come out in the morning?”
“Aww, shucks. You know I can’t play during the day. And it’s lonely here in the closet. Don’t you want to have some fun?”
“I do, Mr. Bixby, but…”
“Aww, c’mon, kid. You’re breaking my heart!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it. Just c’mon and play with me.” Mr. Bixby continued to grin and little Saul. He did his best to hold back the salivation that was pooling in his mouth. He took a bite of the cotton candy and swallowed hard.
“I dunno. What about my parents. Can they come?”
“Next time, kid.”
“Well,” Saul thought about it. “I’m kinda hungry.”
“There’s plenty of food and drink for you here.” He waived his balloon-clad hand behind him, motioning towards the still pitch black closet. The smells of the circus began to fill the room in a thick bouquet, thicker than before. Saul’s stomach growled. “Come on, kid. Come see the sights. Have some cotton candy! You like cotton candy, right?” Saul nodded and pulled the sheets from over himself. “That’s the spirit. Come and play with me!” Mr. Bixby danced and smiled.
“Okay, I’ll come. I’m getting real hungry now.”
“Good! Good! There’s all the food you can eat here!” Saul turned and hopped out of bed. Mr. Bixby let go of the balloons and held his hand out to Saul. “That’s m’boy! Let’s get going!”
Mr. Bixby became elated. He was giddy with glee. He’d finally gotten this succulent child to come with him. It was time to feast! He could feel the saliva flowing freely, he licked his chops. He was so ready. He was so ready to devour the child, soul and all. “Come, let’s go.” He said to Saul as he took him by the hand. He led the young child towards the closet, every step bringing the sinister clown more and more joy. Saul stopped at the threshold of the closet.
“Are you sure about this, Mr. Bixby?” He asked the malevolent clown. “We could do this some other time if you really wanted.” The clown looked at the child with confusion in his eyes. Had he had a change of heart?
“No, we need to play tonight. Don’t you want to play?”
“I do, but I’m just making sure your heart’s in it is all.”
A wave of relief washed over Mr. Bixby. He hadn’t changed his mind, he was only hesitating. That’s it. He was merely feeling unsure about the whole ordeal.
“Here, I have an idea,” he said as he let go of the child’s hand. He turned to the side, dropped the cotton candy, and fiddled with something. It squeaked and rubbed, but after a moment, he turned back and presented a present for the lad. It was a balloon animal shaped like a dog. “There you go! Now let’s get moving!” He smiled another big toothy smile. Saul took the balloon animal and looked it over in the moonlight. He seemed disinterested with it, but he held onto it, nonetheless.
“Okay, let’s go.”
They both walked into the closet together. Finally he’d gotten his prize! The door slammed behind them. And then…something happened. Something Mr. Bixby wasn’t expecting. Everything had suddenly gone all terribly wrong. He began to scream. Rainbow blood seeped out from beneath the door. The fan in Saul’s room blew the balloons around.

Morning came. Saul’s mother opened the door to find her sweet little boy tucked nicely in bed. The balloons  danced in the corner of the room. “Wake up, sleepy head.” She cooed. Saul peeked one eye open and then shot up in bed.
“Morning, Mommy!” He said.
“Good morning, my little monster! How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good.”
“Good. Won’t you join us for breakfast?”
“I’m not too terribly hungry, actually.” He replied. She looked at him with concern in her eyes.
“Are you feeling well?”
“I’m fine. I just had a bit of a snack in the middle of the night.”
She looked about the room and noticed the rainbow blood on the carpet. “Oh, Saul! Did you—?”
“He wouldn’t leave me alone, Mommy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, sweety. We just weren’t expecting you to take care of your friend so soon. We just moved here, you know. Now we’re going to have to find another haunted home and you know how long that takes.”
“I know, Mommy. I’ll try to make it last longer next time. But on the plus side, I won’t be hungry for a long time. He was really filling!” Saul’s eyes lit up. His mother simply chuckled and closed the door.
“I’ll see you downstairs in a little bit!” She called from down the hall.
“Sure thing, Mom!” Saul called back. He searched under his pillow until he found the balloon animal. He clutched it lovingly. “Thanks again, Mr. Bixby.”

Meat

Troy awoke with a shock. He had no idea where he was, but one thing was for certain: his head throbbed like never before. He felt around in the dark trying to get his bearings. The floor was cold and moist. “Where am I?” He whispered to himself. The words stung his head even more. It hurt to talk. It hurt to think. But he had to know. He sat up on the filthy floor. The sharp throbbing in his head continued. He ran a hand through his short blond hair and tried to stand. He fell back to the floor in a heap of pain and dizziness. What had happened to him?

He sat on the floor for a few moments to let the dizziness pass. He then tried again with more success to stand up. His head banged like a tambourine, but he was able to make it to his feet. It was still dark where he was. Almost pitch black. In the dark, he was able to barely make out the shape of something round hanging in the middle of the room. He reached for it. After flailing for a few moments, he was able to grab hold of a thin string. With a click, the light in the middle of the room buzzed to life. It wasn’t bright, but it was sufficient for Troy to see around the room more. There wasn’t much. A door. No windows. A bucket. A drain in the middle of the floor. The air tasted of mildew and rot. He was in some sort of cell. “Let me out!” He screamed. His head throbbed and and pounded. He felt as if his brain were going to explode. “Gaaaaahhhh!” He cried out in anguish, clutching his head, dropping to his knees. As the thudding subsided, he dared not move. “What is going on…?” He whimpered.

Several minutes passed before he was able to coax himself into moving again. The throbbing began to fade, albeit slowly. He stood again, this time expending his energy to search his immediate surroundings, hoping for a way out. He tried the door. There was no handle on his side. It was heavy and metal. The walls appeared to be solid concrete. There was visible way out. Troy continued to search the room and then he noticed the bucket. His head still felt fuzzy, but he was able to shamble into the corner and examine the container. It was too dark where he was to see inside, but upon lifting it, it seemed there was something inside. He brought the bucket closer into the light.

The bulb was particularly dim and it was still hard to see inside, but after a few moments of shifting the contents, he came to the conclusion the bucket was partially filled with meat. Raw, bloody meat. He dropped the bucket to the filthy floor. It landed on its bottom, splashing a small amount of blood up onto his legs. Troy began to dry heave. At that point he realized there was nothing in his stomach. He was hungry. Starving. The thudding in his head was beginning to come back. And then the voice came, “EAT.” In the upper corner of the room was a camera. Troy had completely missed the dull red light, the recording light. Next to it was a speaker. “EAT.” Came the voice again.

“Eat what?” Asked Troy. There was nothing in the room that immediately showed itself as edible. He would have eaten a live rat if that would get him out of that room. “Where is my family?”
“EAT.” Said the voice again.
“Eat shit!” He said. “Let me out of here!”
“EAT.”
Troy was becoming furious at the voice. He punched the wall, immediately wincing at the pain. “Fuck!” He called out.
“EAT.”

Troy walked to the corner of the cell, underneath the camera and sat. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be recorded. His stomach rumbled. He was hungry. Very hungry. He began to sob. He didn’t want to consume that flesh in the bucket. He had no idea where it came from. It could be anything.

“YOU WILL BE FREED AFTER YOU EAT.” Explained the voice.
Troy began to sob into his hands, “I don’t want to eat it.”
“EAT.”
Troy bawled harder.
“EAT AND YOU WILL BE FREE.”
“I just want to see my family…” Troy’s voice trailed off. His stomach rumbled again. He looked at the bucket, illuminated under the direct light of the dim bulb. He wanted to see his family again. He shifted and then began to crawl towards the bucket. He was sickened by the thought of consuming this putrid flesh, but if it brought him back to his family, he was finally willing. He would eat.

He sat in the middle of the floor, legs wrapped around the bucket. “Is this what you want??” He shouted at the camera as he reached his hand in. The flesh was cold and slimy. He recoiled in an instant once he felt it. “You sick fucks! Is this what you want!?” He shot his hand back into the bucket and pulled out a strip of bloody flesh. He brought it to his face and then hesitated. Was he really about to do this? Was he going to eat this meat, this bloody flesh? Troy shut his eyes tight and shoved the meat into his mouth. It tasted horrible, like raw pork. Pork. He told himself it was only pork. What else could it be? He stifled a stomach heave as he swallowed and then shoved more meat into his mouth. He was doing it. He was eating as he was instructed. He hoped and prayed this would truly allow him to be reunited with his family.
He would have hoped being so hungry would help him consume his meal, but the taste, the texture, it was all too much. Troy couldn’t hold it in anymore. He turned to the side and vomited hard.
“EAT.” Said the voice, this time booming louder than before. Troy shoved more meat into his mouth. He felt packed to the gills, even though he’d just puked up much of what he’d eaten. He knew he couldn’t stop, though. He continued stuffing his face with the sickening flesh from the bucket until there was none left. His belly hurt. There was still a resonating dull thud in his head. He couldn’t take anymore if he tried.
“There.” Troy said, flicking blood and filth from his hands. He tipped the bucket over. What remained of the blood at the bottom flowed freely into the drain in the center of the floor. “It’s done.” He stifled another heaving. He could still taste the rancid flesh in the back of his throat.
There was a low, but audible click at the door. It began to creak ever so slightly. Troy was filled with hope. He was finally going to be able to see his family once again! Ignoring the pain in his head and stomach, ignoring the emetic feeling that permeated his whole body, he shot up from his spot in the center of the floor and bolted for the door. When he reached it, he could smell the dank, but fresher air leaking in. He through the door open to see a dark corridor in front of him. Down the corridor were similar light bulbs hanging symmetrically, barely luminous. There were various cell doors lining the hall, but one in particular was open. What caught his eye was a body laying on the floor. It was a female body with long, dark, messy hair. She was nearly naked, save for a basic bra and panties.
“Monica?” He called out to the body. She began to stir. Troy carefully crept down the hall towards her. “Monica, is that you?”
“Troy?” Her voice was weak. He came upon her and was able to confirm in the dim light it was her. She was dirty and ragged. Her belly was distended just as his. Had she been put through the same ordeal he had?
“Monica, can you get up?” He asked as he knelt by her side. She slowly sat up and leaned against the wall.
“Troy,” she whispered. “Where are we? Why are we here?”
“I—I don’t know. But it’s over now, I think. Can you stand up?”
She struggled, but was able to make it to her feet with his help.
“Oh my God, I missed you, Troy!” She said as they embraced. They then turned and hobbled toward the exit doors. Just as they reached their destination, Monica stopped. “Troy?”
“Yeah?” He leaned against the doors. It was hard to keep them both up.
“Where,” She stammered a little. His stomach dropped. Something told him he already knew what she was going to ask. “Where are the kids?”
They both turned and looked at each other and then back down the hall and then back at each other. Monica dropped to her knees and began to bawl into her hands. Troy turned and began to vomit violently.

Memorial Slay

Lloyd had it in his mind that this year was going to be the best Memorial Day ever. He was single and didn’t have a family to cook for, but nonetheless, he spent much of his meager savings on fireworks, meat, charcoal, and other various grilling holiday provisions. He did a little dance as he stood in line at the checkout counter waiting to be rung up. “Gonna be a good day, I take it?” asked the cashier. She was a gorgeous brunette of average height. Her smile seemed to radiate and brighten the store all on its own. Her name tag read “Shannon”.
“Definitely!” he said. “Might even be better if you chose to participate, yeah?”
She seemed to be shocked by the offer, but didn’t lose her smile. “Maybe. I get off at three, if that’s okay.” Lloyd was elated. She hadn’t actually confirmed wanting to join him, but it was a start. The customer in front of him, an older woman, slid her card while stealing a glance back at him. “Thank you, ma’am.” She said as she took her bags and receipt and walked out of the store. Shannon waved back at her and turned back to Lloyd. “Okay, so where’s this happening?” she asked as she began to ring up his groceries. Lloyd grinned. “My place. Not grilling til five, so you have plenty of time to get ready. That’s if you want to come by, of course.” Shannon continued checking him out. Lloyd had always considered himself a decent looking fellow. He was tall with sandy blond hair. He had a little pudge in the middle, but it wasn’t anything he considered out of control.
“242.38” Shannon had finished scanning his cart and announced the total. Lloyd slid his card.
“So, what’s it gonna be?” he asked with a smile.
She looked up at him from the register as the receipt printed. “Careful, I’m a man eater.” She said.
Lloyd chuckled, “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s the address?” Lloyd pulled a pen from his pocket and scribbled his home address on the back of his receipt. “Here you go. Don’t forget, five o’clock!” He winked at her as he pushed his cart away from the checkout station and towards the door. Shannon smiled big and pocketed the note. It’d been a while since she’d had barbecue.


Lloyd checked the clock. It was half past four. He didn’t have much time finish preparing for the grill out. He’d marinated all the meats; brisket, ribs, chicken. He’d even prepared kabobs for the occasion. Now he just needed to get the grill going and everything would flow perfectly.
He juggled a few of the pans of meat out the back door to the patio where the bag of charcoal and the grill sat cold and waiting for him. He was proud of his grill. He wasn't particularly experienced with grilling, but he always figured it couldn't hurt to put your best foot forward. He'd saved up a couple pay checks just to afford it and it was gonna be worth it. It had all the bells and whistles a charcoal griller could hope for, including a place to hold his beer while he flipped the meat and corn. He was ecstatic. Lloyd set the pans down on the table under the big umbrella and began filling the grill with charcoal. The dust of the briquettes flew up in a puff as they all tumbled into the burner reservoir. Lloyd coughed and wheezed. He could even taste it somewhat in his mouth. He didn't catch the lone briquette that ricocheted off the side of the reservoir and rolled near the table with the meats. He went back inside to grab the rest of the provisions.
He wasn't expecting anyone to show up, except, perhaps Shannon and maybe the random neighbor. He didn't care, though, as long as she came. He stopped for a moment and thought about that smile. While inside, he grabbed the lighter fluid and another two pans of meat from the kitchen counter. Lloyd couldn't wait to get his grilling started. He was beginning to salivate a little. "Damn, this is gonna be good." He said to himself. He could already taste the teriyaki marinated meats in his mind. He juggled the pans and the lighter fluid out the door, setting the pans with the rest of the meat and then taking the lighter fluid to the charcoal. Just to be sure, he gave it an extra big squirt. The bottle was already almost finished. There was no way it wouldn't light now. Lloyd pulled a kitchen match from his pocket and struck it using the roughness of the sole of his shoe. He dropped it into the reservoir, resulting in a brilliant poof of fire and smoke. He had to jump back due to the heat. He also checked his face to make sure his eyebrows were still intact. They were there just as before. Lloyd left the grill open so the coals could ash over as needed. They were burning nicely and smelling great.


Lloyd watched the flames flicker and lick the air for a few moments as the coals neared their blanketed state little by little. He was proud of this setup. He was proud of the perfect barbecue he was going to have. He took a few more steps back, closer to the table, to get a better, fuller view of the blaze. And then there was a knock at the door.
It had to be Shannon! Lloyd pivoted slightly towards the door and took a step. Unfortunately, it was onto the lone briquette that had escaped the pyre. He slipped hard and fell backwards onto the table. The meat trays and marinades all spilled over him. The kabobs clattered to the floor of the patio, some landing just right in between the wooden slats to stand on end. Lloyd did his best to get up, but due to the oils in the marinade, he found himself flopping around more than anything. He finally was able to stand. There was another knock at the door. He tried again to make a walk to the patio door, but immediately slipped in place and then stumbled head first into the grill. His head banged hard against the outer shell of the grill and out of instinct, he grabbed on to try to balance himself. His hands immediately began to sizzle and cook. He screamed and pulled away as fast as he could and tumbled backwards, falling in just the right manner for one of the kabobs sticking up to pierce the back of his skull and tear out through his eyeball.
Just then, the front door opened. A beautiful brunette walked through the living room and towards where the commotion was coming from. She opened the patio door to see Lloyd laying, bleeding, and twitching. The fire had just begun to die down on the coals. The table was sitting haphazardly, tumbled across the patio. Most of the meats lay around Lloyd, marinating in blood, gore, and teriyaki. Shannon cooed as she knelt down over Lloyd. "I told you I was a man eater, but I didn't think you'd take it so literally." She said as she plucked the kabob from his eye socket and placed it on the grill. It sizzled as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Homebound

The shrill tone of the alarm abruptly woke Mike from yet another nice dream. The memory slipped from his mind quickly, but he was able to lay in bed for a moment and bask in what was probably some of the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks. After a few minutes, he sighed and slid out of bed, careful not to wake his wife, Michelle. School was out for the day, so she was able to sleep in for once. The principal had been riding her hard lately about grades, among other things, and Mike wanted her to enjoy this moment of peace. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to get ready for work today as there was a seminar he didn’t want to go to, but nonetheless, he had himself a shower and made a nice quick breakfast of fried eggs, toast and coffee. As he finished his meal, young Willow and Max both pushed into the kitchen. “Morning.” Mike said as the groggy young ones prepared themselves their respective bowls of cereal.
“Hi, Dad.” Willow muttered. He could barely see her face through her disheveled, pink-striped hair. It was very early for them, but they were used to having to get up for school. “Going to work?” She asked.
“Yeah. Sadly I’m not off like you guys.”
“That sucks.” Max said as he tipped the box of crisp rice into his bowl.
“Max, you’re what, seven? Little early for that kinda language from you.” Mike said, sternly.
“Sowwy, Daddy.” Max put the cereal down and walked over to his father, hugging him tight. Mike loved how loving Max was. It was a nice contrast to the pre-teenage angst he’d been dealing with lately from Willow. He still loved them equally. He hugged Max back and then took a sip of his coffee as he walked back to his chair and poured a small amount of milk into his bowl. It came to life with a series of snaps and pops. It was Max’s favorite part of breakfast. He dove in with his spoon. Willow was already halfway finished with her own cereal. “So when do you get off?”
Mike put his mug down, “Later on tonight. It’s probably gonna be a long day, so don’t expect me home until about dinner time.” Willow sighed, took her last few bites of cereal, and then dropped her spoon into the bowl. “That does suck.”
“C’mon…!” Mike exclaimed. “Where do you kids pick up this language anyway?”
“It’s 2015, Dad. Need I say more?” Mike chuckled a little to himself. She was 12, but she was also right. With the Internet at their fingertips and what felt like a lax in general morality (or perhaps uptightness), kids these days were saying the craziest things imaginable. Luckily, his were still respectful and didn’t give in to the allure of childhood profanity.
“Fair enough. Just watch it around Mom, got it?” Willow parted her hair and smiled. “Alright, kids, I gotta get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”
They both moved in to give Mike a big hug. “Love you, Dad.” They both said.
“Love you, too. You be good, okay?” They nodded and went to the living room. Willow grabbed the remote and turned on the television. For some reason the programming was off. The screen solid blue. “Hey, Dad, I think there’s something wrong with the TV.” Mike stopped just short of the door and turned to see what they were talking about.
“Hmmm…well, I don’t have time to play around with it. Maybe there’s a loose connection or something. Either way, you can play on your tablets, too. There’s options.”
“Okay, Daddy. Have a good day!” Max waved as Mike walked out the door.

The streets seemed relatively empty as Mike walked to the car. Normally, there was a fair amount of traffic on the road, but today it was as if everyone but he was taking a break from getting out. “Lucky bastards.” He muttered. The dash chimed as he stuck the key into the ignition then closed the car door. He quickly pulled out onto the road and switched on the radio to keep him company during his relatively long drive to work. As he pulled out of the neighborhood, he saw a small group of people, three by his count, running down the road in the opposite direction. A man was walking behind them, though he seemed a bit off center, as if he were limping. Odd he thought to himself, but nonetheless continued on towards work. Surely traffic was going to pick up and he wanted to beat it.
It didn’t.
It felt as if it were earlier than it had been. There were no cars on the road, though there looked to be an abundance of vehicles that had run off into the dirt and ditches, which was strange as there had been neither rain nor snow for weeks. Mike chalked it up to shitty drivers he would no further concern himself with. In this part of Tennessee, it wasn’t anything uncommon to see a few cars here and there on the side of the road, but today seemed as though that concept was being taken to the extreme. Maybe there’d been a party he missed out on. Oh well. There was still plenty of time until he made it to work, traffic or not, so Mike switched on the radio. Immediately, his ear drums were assaulted by the saccharine sweet tune of a bubblegum pop song on the last station he’d left it on. It sounded as if it were almost done, so he attempted to tolerate the noise. Several seconds in, he changed his mind and began flipping stations. There had to be something better on at the moment without having to suffer through a reminder of the 80’s. A horrible reminder of the 80’s. Most of the stations were static. Few had some tunes playing, mostly country or gospel. He stopped on a talk radio station. It sounded like an interesting debate on the concept of the afterlife. One debater spoke almost like a minister in favor of belief that there was something after death. Both sounded their opinions with flair.
There were no other cars in the parking lot as Mike pulled in. He checked his watch. He was surprisingly forty-five minutes early. “Well, hell, where is everybody?” He was used to being able to at least enter the building before his shift began, but today, with nobody there and himself lacking the proper key, he was stuck waiting in his car until someone else showed up. Mike sighed and turned up the radio. He tilted the seat back a little and decided to close his eyes for a little while. He was still tired from waking up and leaving early. He was a workhorse in his office and it was catching up with him. With his eyes shut, he fixated on the radio program still playing. He hung his arm out the window of the car. There was a gentle breeze blowing that caught the hairs of his arm just right. It was almost hypnotic.

As Mike tuned the world out and the breeze blew, he drifted further and further away. The grass behind his car rustled. He ignored it for what it is, weeds blowing in the wind. Suddenly he felt something grab his hand. Try as he might, he couldn't pull it back. Before being able to turn and see what was going on, he felt a sharp pain on his forearm, followed by an intense burning sensation. He yanked his arm back as hard as he could, releasing it from the grasp of whatever it was holding him. His heart skipped a beat then raced when he looked and saw the blood rushing from the wound, the bite wound, burning on his arm. He kicked the door open, knocking it into something, whatever it was, just outside.
Before he tried to get out, Mike reached over with his still good arm to search for a weapon on the floorboard of the car. He almost immediately gripped something dense and long. The tire iron from the week prior when he had to change a flat. He kicked the door one more time with a hefty grunt. This time it swung all the way open. He jumped from the car to see a body laying on the ground. Upon closer inspection, he could see the body was a male. It was a person. A person who’d bitten him. There was a gnarly gash on his forehead with a slight pool of dark red blood forming on the asphalt below. There were still no other cars in the parking lot. Mike clutched the tire iron tighter as he examined the body. It was covered in dirt, as if it had been perhaps buried. The bite throbbed more and more on his forearm. He held the wounded arm close to his chest, partially to slow the bleeding. The body lay still on the asphalt. Its mouth agape, blood coating the teeth and lips. It looked as if it’d been in the ground for quite some time. Like…a corpse. What the hell was going on?
Mike looked up toward the building he’d been waiting to enter. There were still no cars, no traffic. Something was wrong. He ran through the parking lot up to the double doors. They were locked, as expected. He looked around. There was not a soul in sight. He cocked back and swung the tire iron at the glass as hard as he could. It bounced right off, nearly ricocheting at his own head. At that moment he cursed his company’s dedication to employee safety and security. He needed a phone as quickly as possible. His arm throbbed. He decided to try to find another way in. There were doors around the side that sometimes other employees would sneak out of to smoke pot and drink. Perhaps they’d left one open over the weekend on accident. He ran around the building trying door after door. They were all locked tight. Suddenly, as he was rounding the corner of the building for the final time, a bit of movement in the distance caught his eye. It seemed to be a woman. A shambling woman. She was far away, but Mike could tell something wasn’t right about the way she was moving. Then there was more movement. This time, closer. He looked up to see several more people, corpses, shambling and crawling toward him. One was even close to the building he’d just circled. What was once a young man was now a shell of his former self. Near-aimlessly lurching forward, as if guided by loose strings. His clothes torn and tattered. The walking corpse moaned and shambled further, closer. Mike froze in place. These creatures had come seemingly from nowhere. His arm throbbed. This shifted his mood from fear to anger. As his arm burned, so did his anger. He was pissed. He gripped the tire iron harder and rushed the shambling zed. The dense metal crashed into its skull with a loud CRACK as he swung as hard as he could. The monster fell to the ground, twitching and writhing. Blood gushed from its now sunken in skull. It would never get up again. Mike looked over to his car. The door was still open, the zombie that had originally bitten him still lay on the ground, unmoving. Several walking cadavers had begun to struggle their way out of the bushes nearby. He knew he’d have to fight his way through to get back to his car. He looked down at the zed near his feet then at his arm. He was ready to kill.

The roads were still clear as Mike pulled out of the parking lot. He’d been bitten one more time when a zed ambushed him from behind, but besides that, they were all dead. The tire iron, coated with blood and gore, sat next to him in the passenger seat. His body burned and his head throbbed, but he fought through the pain. He wanted to get home and see his family. They were all that mattered. Screw the job site. Screw the pain. Most of all, screw these fucking zombies. As Mike sped down the highway, he began to get lightheaded. The throbbing worsened with each mile. His body began to go numb. He was bleeding pretty bad, becoming more and more pale with each passing second. He had to make it home, there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He had to make it home. It became harder and harder to keep his eyes open. With each blink it felt as though another weight was added to his eyelids. Unfortunately, those weights became too much for him. As the car blazed down the asphalt, Mike lurched forward and passed out onto the steering wheel.

Mike woke to the smell of fire and earth. He’d been ejected from the vehicle as it careened off the road, through the ditch, and into a nearby clutch of trees. It burned in an inferno not far from him, but he did not feel the heat. He was numb, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped. At least there was that. He groaned as he tried to pull himself up from the ground. He felt so much different. Not a good different, but in a way that scared him. It was hard to control his motor functions. He jerked and pulled himself to his feet and then forced himself to try to walk. He was still near the highway, not too far from the turn off home. Perhaps he could make it by foot. Foot. He looked down. His ankle was turned around almost completely, but he didn’t feel a thing. Part of him wanted to try to twist it the right way, but the rest of him didn’t care. He was beginning to feel…hungry. In a way he never had before. More importantly, he needed to make it home. He began to walk. No, shuffle. His foot was still twisted around, but he was able to walk. This didn’t feel right, though nothing felt in the classic sense. His worry only grew. He pushed through the weeds and trees as he could, ankle be damned. He was going to make it home no matter what.

As he cut through the foliage, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. The hunger was taking over him, along with an unusual buzz-like feeling. The numbness still resonated within him, though he was beginning to feel the burning sensation again, this time centered in his gut. He wanted to think about food. He wanted to think about burgers, sandwiches, a bowl of cereal. He wanted…flesh. Raw flesh. Human flesh. He shook his head violently. “No!” he hoarsely screamed to himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Where had that thought come from? He leaned against a tree and looked down at his wounded arm. It was already beginning to fester. Blackened veins streaked and twisted around the teeth marks. Dried blood crusted and caked. He was finding it harder and harder to focus. Mike shook his head again. He had to focus on the task at hand: making it home. He clawed his way out of the wooded thick to find his shortcut off the beaten path had brought him closer to his destination than he’d thought. He was closer to home. His worry was partially relieved. At least until he realized he wasn’t alone. Up the road, there were more shamblers and crawlers making their way, albeit slowly, into the neighborhood. He immediately began to push harder. His twisted foot would not slow him down. This hunger would not keep him away from his family. He was going to make it home and they weren’t going to stop him. He lurched forward with great resolve until he came to the road. Just as he stepped onto the pavement, a van blew by, nearly clipping him. He didn’t budge. He strangely didn’t care. He had always brought his kids up to look both ways, to be cautious, but now none of that mattered. He would make it home at any cost.
When he finally crossed the road, he could see more into the neighborhood. Since the time he’d left, chaos had broken out. He could see some homes boarded up, though haphazardly. He continued walking. Through the windows of one house, he could see zeds had broken in. In the front door, a female body lie still as a small clutch of the undead feasted on her entrails. Mike shuddered then fell to his knees, though he barely felt it. Is this what he was to become? Was there no choice in the matter? No. He wouldn’t allow his thinking to be clouded with these issues. He was going to make it home no matter what. He was so close. He could almost hear his children’s voices again. He imagined embracing them at least one more time before…before…no. It wasn’t going to end like that. He forced himself back up, clutching his ragged arm. He was going to make it, come Hell or high water. Again, he pressed forward. He was only a few streets away from home, judging by the houses around him. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on the street signs as he’d prefer, but he knew his surroundings just as well. Slowly, but surely, he was getting closer.
Just as he was crossing over to the next block, shots rang out in the distance. Up the road, he could barely make out a small group of residents who appeared to be fighting back. Fighting back. It was as if there were some sort of invasion going on and they were the last of the survivors. No, his family had to be around. They were home and he just needed to make it there. But now, he had to find another way. Between him and his destination was this group of fighters. This group of people killing the things he was becoming. He hated the sound of that: what he was becoming. But could he blame them? They were only doing what they knew best to take care of the ones they loved. He was doing no different. He wanted to be home, to be with his family. He ducked down a more quiet side street. If he was lucky, he’d be able to cut between his neighbor’s houses and get home quicker. Either way, he’d have to watch out for those with weapons. Those who would do harm to him. He found it increasingly hard to think straight. He wanted to find the quickest way home, but the sounds of the rifles and shotguns firing made him think about the dead. He wondered how many there were. How fresh they were. He began to salivate. He wanted to move, but he was stuck in the mindset. He thought about rending the flesh from their bones. It disgusted him, but he found himself more and more drawn into the thought of tasting of their life force. He tried to shake the thought from his mind, he was so close to home, but it stuck like glue. Harder and harder the thoughts crept into his head and harder and harder he found it to concentrate on making his way home. He was so close. It was then he realized on that side road he stood. He’d been in his own head for a while now, stopped in his tracks. He wanted to continue his trekking. So close. More shots rang out. He found himself drawn to the noise like a moth to a candle. He turned around and began heading back the way he came. Back to the chaos.
Things were becoming hazier by the moment, but he could still make out shapes and voices. Blurry images. It was the noise. The noise that attracted him. CRACK! Another shot rang. He stumbled faster toward it. As he came around the corner, he could barely make out what was left of the group he’d seen before. Two faster moving spots headed in his direction. Behind them, several other smears of red and white. Blood and pasty skin. Ambling, but moving, nonetheless. The two spots drew closer and he was able to focus better on them. They carried guns. One, a rifle. The other, a shotgun. He moved quickly at them. He had no choice. He was drawn to the killing grounds. The two turned to unleash more shots on the crowd behind them: CRACK-CRACK! A smear dropped. Another lurched back and then continued after them. They drew even closer. Their backs were turned, focusing on taking out the large amount of zeds that were following them. Mike moved quietly. Though he dragged his foot behind him, it was muffled by the noises of the monsters chasing the few living. He blinked and the two were almost upon him. He tensed up. It was time. He pounced just as one turned to see him. He landed on the back of the other. He could smell the sweat, the fear. It was a male. The woman who had been traveling with let out an ear piercing scream as Mike dove into her companion. He tore at his neck, ripping flesh, spraying blood. He went down immediately, gurgling and choking on his on life fluid. The woman scrambled with her rifle and took aim. Mike didn’t care the gun was trained on his head, he only felt the hunger. He tasted the flesh and felt the satiation coming over him. CLICK. Either the rifle jammed or it was empty. She threw it down and continued running. There was no chance to grab her mate’s shotgun with the marching dead at her heels. She screamed as she ran down the street, away from the carnage. Some of the shamblers stopped and began to feast with Mike. The rest continued with the chase.
Internally, Mike couldn’t believe himself or what he was doing. He couldn’t believe he’d taken a life, and for that matter was gorging himself on it. But he couldn’t stop. It tasted so good. He tried to tear himself away from the gruesome display, but found himself wanting more and more. Until he heard it. The song of another firearm. It was coming from the other side of the block. His family. He stopped chewing and looked down at the gore beneath him. He tasted the blood. The flesh fell from his lips. He didn’t have time to pity the horror, he had to get to his family. He slowly stood up and began hobbling back around the corner as he’d tried before. This time, he succeeded. He rounded the other corner of the road to see a small clutch of zeds ambling and shambling down the street towards the other side of the block. CRACK! A zombie fell. He hobbled further down the road. He knew he was getting closer to home. CRACK! The shot knocked another off its feet. He could just barely make out his house. He stood for a moment and looked it over. It was still pristine, though he could not see through the windows. They looked to have been boarded up. He wasn’t sure. He was beginning to get hungry again. He shook the thought from his head as much as he could, but it still lingered in the back of his mind. Lingered like a festering boil. Itching and burning uncontrollably. He took a few steps forward and then suddenly found himself on his back. His body was still numb, but he could just barely feel the sharp, niggling pain in his shoulder. He tried to get up, but found it difficult to move. “Oh my god!” He heard shout from above. As he rolled over, blood and sinew simultaneously dripped from and clung to his shirt. He had been shot. By the time he’d made it to his knees, he could hear the sound of two familiar voices. “DADDY!!” They yelled at the same time. It was Max and Willow. Even in his current state, he couldn’t help but recognize his young and they, him. Inside, something stirred. He rose to his feet as they ran towards him and then stopped in their tracks, horrified.
“Daddy, what’s wrong with you?” Max asked. His curiosity had always gotten the better of him. Willow slowly backed away just as Michelle came running out the door gripping a rifle. “KIDS!! NOOOO!!” She yelled as she ran across the lawn. Nearby, a couple of zeds caught wind of the commotion and began to amble towards his children. Mike wanted to speak, to warn them, but his throat was now dry and somewhat swollen. It was a wonder he was able to swallow at all. Instead, he lunged. Just before the first zombie fell upon Max, he tackled it to the ground and began pulverizing its head with his fists. He felt an anger well up inside of him that he’d never felt before. Nothing would hurt his children, no matter what state he was in. He pulled himself up from the bloodied, twitching corpse beneath him. CRACK! Michelle put a bullet through the zombie closest to Willow, who was cowering in fear, her back nearly pressed against the fence next to the house. The zed lurched to the side and let out a dry howl. Mike grabbed it from behind, his hands holding the creature’s mouth agape and pulled with every ounce of strength he had left in him. With a spray of blood and gore, the zed fell to the ground, its tongue hanging out, wagging around. Mike looked at the bloody upper mandible and skull and then threw it to the ground. CRACK! Another shot rang out. The rest of the zombies had already made a beeline to the other side of the neighborhood, chasing the screaming woman. The final zombie in the area fell to the ground, blood streaming from the gaping wound in its forehead. Next, Michelle trained the rifle on Mike. “MOMMY, NOOO!!!” The kids screamed together. Little Max ran forth and hugged on his dirty, bloody, broken father. Willow rushed forward and did the same. Mike, in his decrepit state, put his hands on their backs and moaned. Michelle lowered the rifle and began to cry. She feared for her children’s lives, but deep down, she knew he would never hurt them. Mike dropped to his knees and used ever ounce of strength and self control to hug his children, if only one last time. A single tear streamed from his now graying face. He’d made it home.