Blood Ever After, page 17
“Brett, no,” hissed Hannah. Too late. Brett let loose with the rock, projecting it at the dove. It hit the branch right where the dove had been. In the midday light, the dove flew off into the distance, squawking.
“Shit.”
Hannah smacked and smacked the back of his head. Frowning at his older sister, Brett put up his small hands, backing away from the tall girl. Hannah’s muscles pulled and flexed as she glared at Brett. “You stupid idiot, don’t you have any respect for the wildlife out here? Who do you think you—”
“Shhhh,” Tyler said, for he was absolutely certain he had seen something. “Guys. Shush.”
The three now crept closer and closer to the sounds they heard.
They came from behind a shed.
The three moved around the side of the shed, peering. And they saw it, whatever the heck it was. It was difficult to see quite what it was altogether. All Tyler could really tell was there was a shape, and on the right side, in some light, the shape’s eyes appeared to blaze a brilliant red, but from other angles, the thing—whatever it was—looked only to have subtle, faded eyes. He could, however, see that its sides were decaying and green, even scaly in places, as though the skin there was beginning to flake. As sunlight flickered against other areas of it, he saw that a deep, dark brown stained other parts of its skin, the skin appearing leathery in these places, as though it had decayed for weeks, months even. Its eyes, when it peered near—but not right at them—appeared sunken and weak, as though it had trouble not only seeing but in maneuvering its eyes at all, as though the eyes, like the rest of its body, had died and had forgotten how to operate as they should.
Tyler held his nose. “What in the heck is that?” he said. His heart thumped, and he dared not get any closer. Hannah grasped his hand. It was then Tyler noticed her palms were sweaty. “Come, Tyler, it ain’t smart to get too close to these things, whatever they are. Come on, let’s get outta here.”
As they walked further up Smith Street—which still led to town but away from the creature—Brett bounced up and down. “Wow, that was so lit, was that a frickin’ dead body, Han-Han? Was that one of those deadies on the ground come back to life? Wow! Wait till I tell the cock-heads from school about this, if they still alive. Holy shit.”
Fling!
Another rock went shooting up to the bush. This time it hit a mourning dove square in the head. The dove fell, slumping to the ground, the wings laxly trying to rise and fall.
“Got the bugger, got the bugger, Han-Han.” Once more the kid bopped on the spot. Hannah, who had brought a floppy pink dildo with her—perhaps for this purpose—whacked and whacked Brett’s scalp with it.
“Hey, get ya big ugly dildo off my face, ya ass-wipe. Why ya doing that? Get ya big-ass dildo off’a me head and slap ya boyfriend’s ass with it over there.... Come on, whore, come on.”
Hannah continued thwacking the boy till blood trickled down Brett’s forehead.
In a weak voice, shock still resonating through him from that creature they’d come across, Tyler called out, “Hey, Hannah, I think that’s enough. I think he understands now.”
Eyes wide, rich anger evident in her face, Hannah spun to face Tyler. Tyler could see every single one of the girl’s taut muscles poking from her skin in the bright light. Flapping the pink dildo back and forth, Hannah said in a rich, hot voice, “If someone doesn’t drag this boy in, he gonna turn out to be a murderer, he is. I guarantee it.”
Brett had come back at Hannah to grasp the dildo, but wham, Hannah slapped it once more into the back of his head. She did it so hard the sound made Tyler squirm.
Soon they had reached Fieldhurst city center. Tyler walked first, having continuously pulled back Brett, telling him to wait behind him. Earlier, Brett had been lining a few more doves up with his slingshot, but Hannah kept on knocking it away before he could fire.
“Shhh ... I hear something,” said Hannah.
By now the sun had begun to set in the west, and the town had taken on an eerie dull orange glow. In the dimming light, everything seemed a little spookier ... the houses having turned a darker shade, the shadows over the roads stretching longer and longer. A chilly wind, with the promise of winter to come, blew across those roads. “Quiet, guys, I’ll see what it is.”
Hannah stepped forward, head arched to the right, apparently looking for whatever had been making that salivating noise. A noise, a deep, low growling sounded. Brett turned around, saw what it was and his eyes lit up in amazement. “Cool, Han-Han, look at this. It’s a dead body.”
Hannah turned. “Holy shit, run. Run, guys, run.” She turned back, latched on to Tyler’s shirt. Tyler had become completely stationary, unable to move at all. “Tyler, hurry the heck up, I have no idea in the world what these things are.” She slapped his ass.
Even that didn’t seem to do the trick at first. So she went around Tyler’s front, grabbed his nuts and squeezed hard. She whispered in his ear, “The dead have returned, Tyler, we need to get the heck outta here. The dead have returned. The dead have returned!”
Chapter 16
Back at the house, Tyler stared out the window. He was murmuring something, but no one else in the room could hear him, or at least they weren’t listening. For they were busy doing their own things. Brett, for instance, helped Hannah board up the front window with a large wooden board the two had found in a garage a few houses up.
Mrs. Webb rushed about, putting some of the food the boys had grabbed from the local supermarket up at Fieldhurst into the basement fridge, the fridge connected to the same generator as the portable oven and the lights. The two boys had recently stocked up on petrol for the generator, but that would soon run out also.
“We’re going to be okay. Just need to lock up until help arrives, is all. We’re going to be okay, kids, we’re going to be okay,” Mrs. Webb reassured them as they hammered away at the boards.
Later, they ate around the dining table. Half of Mrs. Webb’s beautiful lamb roast, still glistening in the lounge room’s warm light, sat before Tyler, untouched. Even Brett had left some of his meal tonight—it wasn’t unusual for Hannah to do that, however.
“So what are they? What are we dealing with?” Mrs. Webb asked. Hannah wore her glasses. She was standing, holding a book. She ran a finger over the pages as she read. “Says here, Matthew 13:40, ‘Just as the weeds are gathered up and burnt with fire, so shall it be at the end of—’”
Brett interrupted her, banging the Bible from her hands. “I ain’t need no shit-bag from the fifth century to tell me how ta live my life. Put that trash away, Sis.” Hannah bent and picked up the Bible before hitting and hitting it over Brett’s head. Hannah’s tits were bobbing up and down beneath her top as she did this, the girl apparently reluctant to wear a bra.
“You disrespectful little jerk-off. I ought to kill you right now. You ain’t know nothin’ about Christianity. God will destroy you when you die. He’ll send you so far to hell that the only way you’ll get to heaven is if you burn your ass on the lava down there and be shot back up.”
Tyler sat up in his room late into the night. A heap of books rested on his bedside table, including Bible commentaries, historical studies and some science books. Having trawled through some, he returned to the study, placing them back into a crate.
Mrs. Webb sat in the study, the glow of the portable lights streaming throughout the room. She too wore glasses as she read. Her dress ran over her heavy legs, and she wheezed as she sat there.
“When those people killed everyone, we ran out back to the woods. Hid out there, sweetie.” She gazed up at Tyler. “With everyone gone ... we could get food”—she peered down at the books—“even books from the local store, and come back here ... wait for safety.…” Glum eyes peered out the second-floor window to the dark road. Being that these windows were so high, those creatures had no way of crawling up to them. The crew had also decided they’d need a vantage point to see the creatures from, in case they did come.
“Here,” Mrs. Webb soon said, taking the book off Tyler. “Ain’t no truth in these books anyway, or at least no relevant truth. Come out to the backyard with me and I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on, sweetie.”
Tyler sat with her, out the back. He stared into the stars above. A can of Dr Pepper sat in his hand, while in Mrs. Webb’s a tequila sunrise. She sucked back on some, gazing up into the twinkly night sky. “Know what happens after death, Tyler? Know what happens to us after we die?” Tyler shook his head. The sounds of the siblings arguing came from behind the back door. She lowered the drink. “I think we will go to a new place, Tyler, somewhere far, far better than this.”
“Heaven?” Tyler asked, looking up now at the stars too, wondering how many of them represented someone he knew. Anderson. Kyle. Were any Mom and Dad?
The woman nodded. “Maybe. Maybe something like that.” She looked at him, shuffled closer to him on the bench. Her knees, warm, large, motherly, pressed against his. “What I actually think is that we go to a kinda other world and all those we lost are there, Tyler, and we sit and talk to them all day and can eat as much as we want and not get fat, and drink as much of this as we want and not feel bad the next day.” She lifted her drink, took a sip, then gazed back out at the night. “I ain’t know if ya mom or dad are still alive, sweetie, but I’m praying for them, if that means anything.”
Tyler still stared at her. “It does. Thank you, Mrs. Webb, it means a lot.”
In the dream that night, Tyler dribbled the ball before Joshi on his front driveway.
Joshi studied some clouds approaching in the distance, the day overcast and dull. “You’re in deep shit, Bro ... deep shit. “
“What d’ya mean? What d’ya mean I’m in deep shit?” Tyler said, bouncing the basketball, trying to get away from the boy. But the older boy wasn’t interested in answering. Instead, he continued glaring at those approaching storm clouds. “The Deaija, it has something horrible planned for you, Tyler. Don’t you see? Haven’t you finally worked it out?”
He walked toward Tyler, grasped the ball off him as though it were easy as taking it from a ninety-year-old. He bounced the ball on the pavement a few times, aimed, and shot. It bounced off the hoop. In the distance a crack and then a rumble came from the gathering grey clouds. Joshi let the ball bounce off onto the grass. He gestured Tyler toward him. “Come with me, Tyler. Come with me. I have something to show you.”
They moved through the caves, the walls a craggy brown, the smell of old moldy moss wafting about. Tyler, arms thin and bony, hair longer, blonder than it was now, placed his hands over his nose. “Stinks in here, Joshi. Why’s it stink?”
Joshi turned, placing his finger over his lips. His eyes were wide, but Tyler could hardly see his pupils. “Shhhh ... unless you want to wake the dead, T. Unless you want to wake the dead.”
Wake the dead? Tyler did not want to wake the dead, whatever the heck that meant.
The two wandered through a large cavern, stalactites poking from the ceiling. Little puddles of still water sat gathered in some ridges. Dripping noises sounded as moisture spilled down from the stalactites. They soon stood in another cavern. The drawings of the bodies sat up on the wall, red outline after red outline, all these faceless people staring back at whoever entered the cool chambers.
Tyler moved up, put his hand against one of the palms drawn on the rough brown surface. Joshi’s mobile torch was the only source of light throughout the craggy area.
“Cool, who did these, Joshi? The Indians? Did they do them?”
Joshi slapped Tyler a couple of times on the back of his head. “It’s not Indians, Bro, it’s the frickin’ Native Americans. Don’t be so disrespectful.” He gazed back at the paintings. In a soft voice, shining his mobile torch against the figures, the boy with the caramel dark skin and dark wavy hair said, “They are the ones from the past, T, the ones who fought and died before us. And they watch us, watch everything going on. And they’re angry, Bro, oh they are so frickin’ angry. But they wait for the right time, wait for the right time to strike again, T. Oh yes they do. They wait for the right time to strike.”
Suddenly there was a noise. Like a twig cracking.
Both Joshi and Tyler turned around. The cave behind them sat dark, water dripping from those spikes in the ceiling.
“What the heck was that, Joshi? What was that sound? Is someone else in here with us?”
Then there was something else. A horrid smell. Appearing to come from somewhere within the cave. Smelling worse than before. Tyler covered his mouth. “God, Joshi, I can’t stand it no more.” But when he looked at his brother, it appeared like green skin ran from Joshi’s hand to his neck, and he saw a bug crawl from inside Joshi’s ear and into his eye socket, which now seemed empty. The boy stepped forward, reaching his arm out toward Tyler. The scent of rot wafted from Joshi. “He’s here to wake them, the Deaija. It’s here to wake the dead, Tyler ... here to wake them, to make this world His again.
“And it’ll be through you, Tyler, through you he comes, unless you’re careful.”
In the gloomy cave, Joshi’s dead, rotten hand grasped Tyler’s shoulder.
The following morning, Tyler kneeled out in the shed.
The all-terrain bike sat beside him.
Hannah stood by Tyler’s side.
“You reckon the plan’ll work?” asked the tall girl.
Tyler shrugged. “We have more chance of getting this beast workin’ than anything else. There’re less parts to a motorbike than a car. Can’t be that hard, can it?” He stood, peering into the wires and mechanics of the engine. “Once we get her workin’, we get a trailer big enough for the two of us to sit in, then get outta here.” He slapped the side of the ATV a couple of times. “This beast’ll get us over the rough spots in the roads.” His pleading eyes looked to Hannah. “Should work, right?”
That night, Tyler and the entire Webb family played a game of poker at the dining table. There were lots of laughs to be had. It was the last time any of them did.
It happened the following morning.
Tyler got up to go to the toilet.
He saw her there then.
Lying in the hallway.
Blood leaked, leaked down her neck. He saw the shadowed figure appearing to clutch her from the side. Mrs. Webb’s mouth opened, as though she wished to say something, but Tyler felt very far from this. Felt like he stood on the shore of a river, in fact, unable to move.
“Mrs. Webb?” he said, his voice appearing to echo throughout the hallway.
Mrs. Webb screamed. It was a scream of agony, ripping so far through the house that the vase on the hallway mantelpiece appeared to wobble. Tyler stepped forward then stopped. Some shadowy, scaly beast, with green rotting skin and eyes as hollow as Hell, clasped the side of Mrs. Webb’s body, mauling her neck. Tyler saw a piece of skin stretch back as the creature drew its mouth away.
He recalled last night, sitting there watching the plump woman placing those cards down on the table, smiling, eating walnuts.
“Leave it, it’s my turn, it’s my turn,” she’d said to Brett, whacking his hand away from the card, then for good measure whacking his head away too. She’d sat there smiling, wheezing, but always with good cheer in her voice.
But there she now slumped. All that blood, dripping and dripping down her neck and shoulder. Tyler continued forward down the hallway, walking in a dream, a nightmare.
“H-hey ... y-you okay?”
She tried speaking, but only gurgling, choking noises sounded. The thing gazed up, making a shrieking, bellowing noise. Blood turned cold throughout Tyler’s body. He stepped back. The thing once more bit into the woman’s neck, stretching back her flesh, the tendons and veins. Blood sprayed out, shooting all the way to the opposite wall of the hallway, spraying against it like some madman artist’s form of a modernist artwork.
Holy God. This isn’t happening.
He was barged aside at that point, barged aside by someone taller, more confident, better looking.
Now Tyler stood watching as Hannah wrestled this thing.
“Shit!” the girl said. She brought her hand back. Blood oozed from a giant slash in it. Her penetrating blue eyes beamed into Tyler’s. “Get the frickin’ blade from my room. Get the frickin’ blade from my room.”
For that task, Tyler appeared to have some ability. He rushed off, mind spinning. Knife, knife, knife, knife, knife, it repeated. He turned into Hannah’s room, saw the hunter’s knife sitting beside the giant pink dildo. What the heck is that creature? What the heck is that creature? He realized he shook as he ran back into the hallway.
“Knife,” Hannah screamed.
Tyler handed it to her. Someone else barged past him, started landing kicks against the thing.
A horrid shriek came from the shadowed creature clutching at the white-faced woman. Brett sent another couple of kicks into it, and it slunk back into the darkness, a long grin upon its face. For a moment Tyler was certain it was going to return for them. Somehow, despite its decayed appearance, it appeared stronger than each of the three put together, but the thing staggered backward, staggered backward into the shadows of the lounge room, glowing morning light seeping in through the northward facing windows.
“Fuck off, fuck off,” Hannah screamed at the thing, the jagged knife above her head as she crouched. “Fuck off or I’ll come for you now.”
Soon after, Brett and Hannah knelt before their dying mom, Tyler standing behind them.
For Tyler, it was strange to see the woman sprawled against the wall there, gasping. When he was younger, on many occasions he had gone to the river with Joshi, and on one occasion Joshi had pulled a trout to the bank. Tyler had never forgotten how the fish had lain there on the pebble-ridden bank (the same river where Joshi would meet his end on that fateful night) gasping for breath, while Joshi smiled, his rod cast back into the water.
Tyler had thought, Is that all life is for some species? To be a meal for someone else’s stomach and nothing more? Is that really what it all comes down to, something to be eaten by a species further up the food chain?
