by C. J. Pinard
As I rounded the corner of the garage, Charlie, one of the neighbor’s dogs, began to bark; which was a pretty common occurrence. As annoying as it typically was, tonight it was somewhat comforting to know I wasn’t alone.
“Hey, it’s just me, Charlie!” I called, my voice echoing across the dark cul-de-sac. A lone streetlight flickered on his side of the circle.
Charlie’s barking increased and he tossed in some obnoxious growls. As far as I was concerned, this dog had some serious trust issues.
There was a sudden loud crash from behind the Hendrickson’s rambler and the motion-detector light flickered out. Charlie growled angrily in the darkness for a few seconds and then, without warning, let out an ear-piercing yelp.
Oh crap, that can’t be good, I thought.
A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I began to panic. Really, I wanted nothing more than to take out the garbage and hurry back inside. I also knew that if I ignored Charlie, and he was hurt, I’d never forgive myself.
Dropping the garbage bag, I started walking towards his house when I heard a deep, strangled moan. I froze in my tracks; that wasn't Charlie.
I shivered. “Hello? Mr. Hendrickson?”
A tall shadow emerged from the darkness and my breath caught in my throat. I watched, motionless, as the figure shuffled through Charlie’s yard, towards me. It was about a hundred yards away when the figure stopped directly under the streetlamp. I sighed with relief when I recognized Scott, a guy from my karate class, who I’d dated a few times. It certainly was creepy, though, that he was lurking around the neighbor’s yard in the middle of the night.
“Scott, what are you doing out here?” I called out.
He just stared at me, swaying slightly.
“Is everything okay?” I tried again, wondering if he was drunk. He’s my age, seventeen, and I’ve never known him to drink alcohol or use any kind of drugs, so his behavior was odd. I stepped closer and noticed that he held Charlie in his arms. An alarm went off in my head, and I froze. “Um, is Charlie hurt?”
Scott growled and then dropped his face down towards Charlie, who lay motionless. When he lifted his head back up, there was a dark red stain covering his mouth. He smacked his lips and moaned in some kind of twisted pleasure. I shuddered in horror as my brain finally registered what was happening. Scott was feeding on Charlie!
“Oh…my…God!” I choked, backing away. Bile rose in the back of my throat as the guy I once kissed assaulted the dog again with that very same mouth.
I turned to run, stumbling over the garbage bag I’d dropped, my ankle twisting in pain. I cried out and struggled to stand when something grabbed my leg firmly. I looked back and froze in shock; it was Scott, only it wasn’t him. His green eyes were now black as death, cold and lifeless. His skin was gray and riddled with bloody sores. His mouth, which still dripped with Charlie’s blood, twisted into a grimace and he let out an unearthly screech.
“Scott?!” I screamed as his teeth tore into my skin.
~~~
I opened my eyes and drew my comforter up to my chin. Reminding myself it was just a dream, I released a shaky sigh and forced myself to chill out. Yes, it was definitely time to stop watching horror flicks before bed. Forcing the last of the disturbing images from my mind, I turned over and let out a real bloodcurdling scream.
“Jed, what are you doing in my room!?” I gasped. It was the third time this week he’d snuck up on me. Apparently, it was now a special game.
Three-year-old Jed giggled with delight. “Hi, Cassie,” he said, licking a thick layer of green slime from his nose. Even in the dark I could tell the sleeves on his Spiderman shirt were crusty from dried-up snot. “Hey, want to see my new caw?” he said. Jed has a hard time pronouncing his R’s. He removed something from his jeans and lifted it proudly into the air; a small, blue convertible that had seen better days.
“Nice,” I mumbled, plumping up the pillow. “Now…please, go find Kris. You need a tissue.”
Instead of leaving, however, he opened his mouth and began coughing, hurling millions of invisible germs towards me.
I backed away in horror and yelled, “Mom!” Sure, he’s adorable with his big blue eyes and dimpled cheeks, but I’ll be the first to admit; I have a major phobia of germs. My room is off-limits and the daycare kids are forbidden to enter it; especially, the little “germy” ones.
My mother popped her head into my room and cringed. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t know he snuck in. Come on, Jed, time to clean you up.”
I snorted. “Clean him up? What about my blankets? He just infested my whole bed with his nasty cold germs.”
Jed‘s lower lip began to tremble and his eyes welled up with tears. “Sowy, Cassie,” he whispered.
My heart melted immediately. I reached over and ruffled his curly blond hair. “Hey, it’s okay, Jed. Just cover your mouth when you cough.”
His face lit up. “Huggies?” he asked, raising his crusty arms.
“Um, later, okay?” I replied as I beckoned my mom with my eyes.
She grabbed him and placed him on her hip. “Come on, Jedster. Let’s go wipe your boogies and get something to eat.”
“Thanks. Make sure nobody else waltzes in here.”
She motioned towards my alarm clock. “Hey, Wild One, it is time for you to get up for school. Start going to bed earlier and you won‘t be so grumpy every morning.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not grumpy. And quit calling me that.”
My last name is “Wild” and my family thinks it’s amusing to call me The Wild One, because I was such a handful as a kid.
My mother frowned but left my room without another word. As she closed the door, I could hear the chaos taking place in other areas of the house; kids were chasing each other, someone was screaming about a lost toy, and a baby began to howl. We live in Wolf Creek, a small town in Minnesota, and my mom runs a daycare in our house. What was once a calm home, is now hectic zoo. It was only Monday and I already yearned for the weekend.
I dragged myself out of bed, grabbed my favorite white Henley T-shirt, and a pair of jean shorts, then snuck into the bathroom to take a shower. Unfortunately, I have to share it with the daycare kids, so I have to be stealthy about it. If they realize it’s me in the bathroom, they’ll do things to torture me, like wiggling their fingers under the door, jiggling the knob, or repeating “Wild” over and over, annoying the heck out of me. Today was no exception.
“Enough,” I warned, combing through my thick, dark hair. I pulled it into a ponytail and looked closely at my reflection in the mirror. Brown eyes, pug nose, and extremely dry lips. I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and found some of my sister’s “plumping” lip gloss. I applied it gingerly to my lips and then frowned. Now they looked swollen, like I‘d been punched. I tried wiping it off, but it didn’t help. My eyes widened in shock as they continued to puff out.
Seriously, I thought, why would anyone intentionally do this to their lips? It was embarrassing and my lips were starting to sting.
I threw my hands up in defeat and stomped into the kitchen. To my dismay, I noticed three other kids, sick with colds. They all smiled at me, matching snot dripping from their noses.
“You have got to be kidding. What is it with everyone dropping off their kids here when they’re sick? Shouldn’t they be home taking care of them?”
“I know, nothing I can do about it, unless they have fevers,” mom replied wearily as she grabbed several tissues and began wiping noses. “Everyone seems to be getting sick with this horrible cold. Some parents even dropped off their kids just so they could go back home and rest.”
“Figures,” I mumbled.
I pulled out my cell phone to check my messages when, Daniel, a five-year-old boy who pretends he’s my shadow, sneezed all over it. I turned to my mom in horror, who winced and quickly handed me an antibacterial wipe.
“Daniel, why don’t you go and draw Cassie a nice picture?” she said, guiding him away from me
.
Frantic to escape, I grabbed a cereal bar and my truck keys. “I’ll eat this at school. I‘ve got a karate class tonight.”
My mom nodded and then wrinkled her nose. “Megan? Do you have a poopy diaper?”
I turned and fled the kitchen before I could smell the answer. Just then my dad shuffled by in his robe on the way to his “Man Cave” in the lower level of our home. He calls it his sanctuary from “Daycare Hell.” Right now he looked like he’d just stepped out of Hell himself, with the dark circles under his eyes and hair that stuck up in every direction.
“Hi, dad,” I said. “Let me guess, you were up late again blasting zombies?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Heh. I actually finished the game.”
My dad is addicted to video games. Before I was born, he once spent thirty-six hours straight, playing Everguild, a very addictive Internet game, surviving only on caffeine and buttery pretzels. When my mom became pregnant, she lost her patience with his harmless addiction and brought a group of his friends together for an “Everguild Intervention.” Now he’s only allowed to play games on his Wii or PlayStation, which he has only a slightly better handle on.
“Do you have to work today?” I asked him. My dad sells cars for a living, which isn’t particularly his dream job. Unfortunately it’s something he’s really good at, so although he grumbles about it endlessly, he never changes it.
“Not until this afternoon. You ready to try out my new Beretta?” he asked, his face lighting up. His other addiction has to do with guns. Almost every Saturday since I turned sixteen, has been spent at the gun range with my father and grandfather. Both avid collectors, they own about thirty different guns between the two of them. When I began showing an interest last year, they were both delighted and started teaching me everything they could about guns. Now my aim is almost as good as my dad’s.
“Sorry, dad, I can’t make it to the gun range for the next couple of weeks. I have to study for final exams,” I answered. “Plus, prom’s coming up. I’m just too busy.”
Folding his arms, he gave me a stern look. “That’s right. You’re going with that Scott kid, aren’t you?” he asked. “Remember, no pre-prom parties, no hotels, and definitely no alcohol.”
I snorted. “Hello? Does that really sound like me? And you do realize that Scott and I are just friends? I‘ve told you this so many times.”
His eyes softened. “Good, keep it that way.”
“Well, I’m just lucky he’s going with me. I didn’t go last year and probably would have skipped the senior prom as well if he hadn‘t volunteered to take me.”
“Are you kidding me? He’s the lucky one!”
I bit back a smile. My dad’s having a difficult time with the idea of me dating, anyone, which he shouldn’t; my love life is as dead as the zombies in his games. Scott and I are only friends, but it always seems to slip his mind. The last time I went out with Scott, my dad had insisted on chatting with him before we left for the movie theater; all the while cleaning three of his guns. My dad found it amusing; I was horrified. But Scott thought my dad’s guns were “awesome” and missed the entire point.
“Wait, Cassie!” hollered my mom from the top of the stairs. My stomach clenched when I saw she was holding a dirty diaper. I swear there was steam radiating from the putrid bundle.
“What?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with your lips?”
I released a deep sigh. “Allie’s plumping lip gloss.”
She bit the side of her lip. “Oh. Well they’ll probably shrink down soon. Anyway, could you please pick up Allie from her dance class tonight?”
I groaned.
“Please? You‘re going to karate anyway, just swing by on your way home.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Thank you, honey.”
I nodded then sprinted out the front door before she tried to volunteer me for anything else. Allie’s my twelve-year-old sister, and since my parents pitched in to help me purchase my truck last year, I’m her personal chauffeur. I didn’t mind at first, but since she’s started middle school, her social life is busier than mine. Sometimes I have to fit my plans into her schedule.
Glancing across the cul-de-sac, I noticed Charlie following Mr. Hendrickson to his mailbox. We waved at each other and Charlie stared at me instead of blasting me with his usual obnoxious barking.
I hopped into my truck, a red ‘98 Chevy S10, which has seen much better days, and prayed silently that it wouldn’t give me problems; it’s been finicky about starting recently and I really don’t have time to get it checked out; especially with prom coming up. When it turned over right away, I sighed with relief and drove over to my friend Paige’s house.
“Hi. You’re early. Oh…my…God…what happened to your lips!?” Paige cried, covering her mouth.
“It looks that bad?”
“It just looks…painful.”
Paige, as always, looked perfect. With her long, blond hair and startling green eyes, half the guys at school are in awe of her. Some people at school call her Skipper, Barbie’s younger sister, because of her sun-kissed skin, high cheekbones, and carefree spirit.
“My lips were dry, so I tried using one of Allie’s lip gloss tubes. Bad choice.”
“I guess,” she replied, trying to hide a smile. “Do they hurt?”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “They burn a little.”
“Just use Vaseline next time. That’s all I use.”
“Oh.”
She pushed her hair behind her ears. “Did you watch the news this morning?”
“Are you kidding? In my house you won’t find anything but Dora or Elmo‘s World on the television.”
“Well, the media is all over this flu virus. It’s amazing how fast it‘s spreading. Many people are actually getting so sick they’re being quarantined in different countries. It’s like the Black Plague.”
“Most of the little kids in my house are sick. If this keeps up, I swear I’m moving out.”
“Hah, you wish. Anyway, it’s getting so bad, that in Europe, they’ve closed down a ton of schools. Wouldn’t it be awesome if ours was shut down? We could hang out at the mall and check out hot guys all day long.”
I laughed. “Yeah, fat chance of that happening. They won’t even close when we have ten feet of snow.”
“Well I, for one, am sick of school; sick of all the uptight bitches, juvenile jocks, and dumb-ass tests. Seriously, I wouldn’t mind if school shut down for the rest of the year!”
I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. Having a rough week?”
She shrugged and stared out the passenger window.
"Ok, spill it. What’s wrong, Paige?”
She looked at me, her eyes moist. “Eva King. She’s such a lying, two-faced bitch. You know, she pretended to be my friend just so she could get closer to Kyle.”
Kyle used to be Paige’s boyfriend until he broke it off with her last month. I thought she’d gotten over it already since she seemed to have a crush on someone new every week.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw them kissing in the halls yesterday. She is such a conniving bitch!”
Eva is actually one of the most popular girls in school. Although Paige is much prettier and likeable, Eva’s mother is a famous news anchor and she gets treated like she’s some kind of a movie star herself. Eva’s also head-cheerleader and owns this super turbo-charged Mercedes convertible. Most of the guys at school are hot for her car.
“And he’s a prick…they deserve each other.”
She wiped away a tear and sniffled. “Well…anyway…there is this new guy, Jeremy, who’s really cute. He sits next to me in Biology.”
I chuckled. “I can see you’re truly heartbroken.”
Paige placed her hands over her heart. “I‘m sure Jeremy could help mend it.”
We both burst out laughing. Little did we know that in the next couple of days, our lives would turn into a living nightmare, and that we would
have given anything to have such trivial problems.
***
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Zombie Games Series:
Origins (Book One)
Running Wild (Book Two)
Dead Endz (Book Three)
Road Kill (Book Four)
End Zone (Book Five)
Night Roamers Series:
Blur (Book One)
Shiver (Book Two)
Vengeance (Book Three)
Illusions (Book Four - Available March 1st, 2014)
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Lucky Strike
by
LR Potter
Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect.
Ω Ralph Waldo Emerson Ω
Chapter 1
The dazzling lights of Atlantic City down below overshadow the stars far above me. From my perch in the penthouse suite of the Diamond Mine Casino Hotel, I can see almost to the end of the boardwalk. I miss the darkness of night – the solitude the darkness seems to bring. Here in Atlantic City, the lights are always burning; almost as if the people down below are afraid of the dark. Not me… I beg for it.
From where I stand, I see only the shimmer of lights and excitement of the city; I don’t see the homeless people who teem the city, in constant search of food and warmth. I don’t see the crime that is a constant force which engulfs and infiltrates the city. But I know it’s down there, lying underneath a thin barrier of protection afforded to me by the owner of this very casino.
A shiver of trepidation races up my spine as I stand in my impossibly high-heeled, gold strappy shoes – which match my gold minuscule dress. I wonder which prison is worse, the one which is forced upon you like those below, or the one you chose for yourself, as I’ve done up here in the opulence of the penthouse suite?