In the
Shadows
Rebecca A. Rogers
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2012 Rebecca A. Rogers
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First Edition: October 31, 2012
Author’s Note:
Dear Reader,
These works have accumulated over the years and remind me of why I started writing in the first place: because it’s fun. Most of you may find these stories and poems silly and childish, and I’d definitely agree. They were written when I was much younger and inexperienced with the writing world.
Faces
I see them in the curtains,
imbedded in the ceiling,
on the floor,
on doors.
Though I can’t stop staring,
they don’t stop either;
their eyes always watching
whatever I’m doing.
I feel like I’m going crazy.
I’m the only one who sees them.
They watch my every move,
always patiently waiting.
Maybe it’s just me,
or maybe it’s the faces.
The Damned
I sit alone on a rooftop of this rundown city. My head aches from lack of sleep, and my nostrils burn from the stench of decaying bodies filling the streets. I shouldn’t be alive right now. A widespread virus killed most of this Godforsaken town and turned the residents into monsters. Everyone but me, that is.
My wife and daughter were killed two weeks ago, when their plane crashed into the river. The police told me someone caught the “early stages” of the virus before boarding. After the first bite, the disease spread like a wildfire through the plane and cockpit. Once someone is infected, there’s no hope.
I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with them when they died. Now I’m out to get these grimy flesh eaters. Though I haven’t devised a plan yet, I’ll think of something. Anybody left knows they won’t stop until those . . . creatures destroy every living being in their path. I feared this. The city isn’t contained, and these monsters, once human like me, should all be burned.
Am I the only one left in this city? If I don’t escape and help others, more lives will be lost forever. I have to help the innocent. I need to get them out. But how? It’s not like I can drop by a phone booth and call in reinforcements. I don’t have any fresh ideas burning into the back of my skull like a branding iron. I can’t take my car; the arrow sits on E, and the nearest gas station exploded yesterday when some idiots running from the infested creatures ran a taxi into a pump. I have . . . nothing.
If, however, I don’t move, I’m a direct target. These creatures have the IQ of a hamster, and can only think of and smell fresh blood. They are all around me, moaning and snapping their teeth. Hungry for me. Every last bite of my flesh would taste good to them, until there is nothing left.
I smile and think, In your dreams.
I’m not about to leave the comfort of this rooftop, but I can’t sit here and wait for more of them to pack around my house like a mosh pit at a rock concert. The constant moans coming from below me are interfering with my thought process. I scan the perimeter, for all possible means of escape. The longer I sit here, the more they come.
Something inside of me forces my body to get up. I search the sides of the roof for something useful. I find an old, rusty pipe running parallel to the side of the house and manage to break off a portion. This will be my only weapon.
I pace back and forth, thinking of all possible means to escape.
There isn’t one.
So here goes nothing. Taking one long leap off the roof, I plant my feet on a couple of their faces. It feels good to have their bones crunch from my weight. A few grab at my clothes. I shrug off my jacket, letting them sink their teeth into the fabric laced with cyanide, and run faster than I’ve ever run in my life. Zipping through remnants of tidy lawns and dodging the infected, I honestly have no idea where I’m headed. All I know is my legs are cramping from sitting on my roof for days, and I just want to continue running.
I’m close to the city limits now. Has the virus spread this far? How could the government not know about this? My gut twists as I consider all possibilities, including the scenario where the government created this outbreak.
All thoughts vanish when I see them—my wife and daughter. Their faces are mangled, with skin detaching itself in various places. Their once-soft eyelids now recede, displaying bulging eyeballs. Their lips are nonexistent, showcasing decayed teeth and rotting gums, and their hair is matted, like they’ve just woken up.
Except . . . they won’t ever sleep again.
If I had been on that plane, I’d be standing with them at this very moment. My insides were ripped from me the night their plane crashed. It was hard enough watching the event unfold across a television, knowing I couldn’t turn back time, knowing my wife and daughter were dead.
I didn’t have a reason to live—I didn’t want to live—but here I am and there they are.
Memories only last for a brief moment. They start for me, snarling. Can I hit them if I have to? If I can’t, eventually someone will. But they aren’t my wife and daughter anymore; they’re just the living dead inside the skin of my previous family. I hesitate long enough for droves of the infected to dance around me. Swinging my pipe, I bust skulls and knock a few out of the way. It doesn’t have the effect I hoped for, but it’s enough to catch a break.
I hide behind the closest bush, careful that none see me. I’ve made it this far. All my thoughts are on a whim. After all, I don’t have a good plan. The only idea that I can think of is to get myself out of here—alive.
They’re all getting closer now. I can hear the gnashing of teeth and the ripping of flesh as they infect another innocent, their screams filling the night with new sound, something other than the murmurs of those infected creatures.
The city limits sign is in view. So close!
If I regain my composure and extend my energy, I’ll make a run for it. I want to help the innocent, but I’m outnumbered. I need to keep going until I get to the next town to warn them that this . . . disease is coming. Will they believe me? Will they think I’m crazy?
It doesn’t matter. I have to try.
Sirens blare in the distance. Not the sirens on an ambulance or police car, but the kind to warn civilians when there is a major threat, an emergency. Are they about to bomb this place?
I hear a loud crunch and my shoulder shoots in pain. Liquid oozes down the front of my chest, staining my shirt. The portion of my cerebral that controls my nerve endings bursts into flames around the same time I yell in agony. My shoulder feels like it is being pulled from its socket. Catching a swift glance at the wound, I notice the tendons hanging loosely. I want to die. I will die.
More are coming. I’m fresh blood. They can smell it on me as well as any wild animal. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Wild animals searching for their next meal?
Fighter jets fly overhead, and I watch them soar toward the skyscrapers. God help us all. The infected pounce on me just as I hear the explosion, the seconds of silence thereafter, and then fall into darkness with the remainder of this once beautiful city.
Starry Night
I stare at the diamonds in the sky.
My body lay twisted.
I am left to rot, alone.
All hope is lost.
Someone in the distance
which arrives in the form of an ambulance.
At the hospital,
they say I’ll make it.
I’m going to live.
Curdle the Blood
Lanie picked up the telephone after the fourth ring. “Seriously, Jane, this is, like, the fifty millionth time you’ve called today.”
There was a giggle on the receiving end. “It’s not Jane, silly; it’s Mary.”
“Oh, hey, Mary. Sorry about that. Jane feels the need to call me every hour to update me on the status of her costume for tonight. What are you up to?”
“I was just calling to see if you had any plans later.”
Lanie sighed. “I’ve got to take these kids trick-or-treating while my parents soak up the adult beverages at a party.”
“Well, if you decide to do something afterwards, let me know.” Mary’s voice drifted from the receiver as she said the last few words. There was a click on the other end, then a dial tone. Lanie looked at the phone for a moment and shrugged her shoulders, placing her cell phone on the nightstand.
Lanie scrambled to get her brother and sister into their costumes so their parents could take pictures before they left. David, Lanie’s ten-year-old brother, was Batman, cape and all, and Lindsey, Lanie’s seven-year-old sister, wore a tiara and donned a frilly, pink dress.
“Mom, Dad, we’ve got to go!” Lanie called to her parents in the kitchen. They hardly took any photographs before they casually left the room to begin their pre-party festivities. “It’s already dark outside.”
“You kids have fun and don’t give your sister a hard time,” Lanie’s mom said, kissing David and Lindsey’s cheeks.
Little monsters, devils, and witches roamed door to door on the chilly Halloween night. A few times, Lanie stopped so David and Lindsey could say hello to their friends from school. They covered several blocks before their plastic pumpkins were full of candy.
“I wanna go home,” David said.
“Me, too,” Lindsey chimed in.
“All right, you two, we’ll go home,” Lanie conceded.
The night had gotten colder within two hours of trick-or-treating. Lanie absentmindedly rubbed her arms to dispel the chill. Most of the neighborhood had called it a night and turned off their porch lights, and decorations still hung from trees and loomed in front yards. The constant sound of leaves crunching filled the air as children and parents stuck to the sidewalks.
Lanie and her younger siblings made their way into an empty house—their parents had already left for the party—when the phone rang.
Lanie picked up; it was Mary again.
“Listen, Lanie, it’d be so much fun if you could come out with me tonight. You’re already done taking your brother and sister trick-or-treating, right?”
“Yeah,” Lanie said.
“Well, then what’s the big deal?”
“I can’t leave them here by themselves. You know that.”
“Get them to sleep and they’ll never know you were gone. I bet your parents won’t even be home until early morning, anyway,” Mary pressed.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. What are we doing again?”
“I wanted to show you the old Grayson house.”
“Isn’t that place supposedly haunted?”
“Yep! You’re not scared, are you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then meet me there at eleven o’clock. Don’t be late!” Another click and a dial tone on the opposite end hummed in Lanie’s ear.
* * *
Time ticked by slowly after the kids were in bed. Lanie had to wait until she knew for sure they were asleep, then crept out of the house without making a sound. The wind slashed its icy claws on Lanie’s face as soon as she was outside. Her chestnut locks blew wildly under her beanie. She didn’t know how long she could manage to stay out in this weather.
Mary had been begging her for a while to come to this house. What was the point? Everyone knew it was haunted. There were probably kids there conducting séances and she didn’t want to stumble on the weirdoes who believed in that crap.
She buried her nose in her scarf and kept her hands in her jacket. The weather was getting colder. She wouldn’t stay longer than thirty minutes tops. After weaving her way through three blocks, the house was just ahead on the hill, hidden from view.
Lanie could hear a faint ringing noise and realized her cell phone was going off in her thick jacket. She looked at the screen—it was Jane.
“Hey, Jane. How’d that costume work out for ya?”
“I decided it didn’t, so I guess I’m not going to the party, after all.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m not really sure. That’s why I called you. I figured we could watch a few horror classics—Halloween, Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street. Sound good?”
“Err . . . actually I’m headed to the old Grayson house. You wanna come?”
“By yourself?”
“Oh, no. I’m meeting Mary there.”
“Oh, okay. Give me ten minutes.”
* * *
Jane drove. She wasn’t the type to walk, especially in weather that cold. Her headlights flashed at the bottom of the hill and Lanie ran down to greet her.
“I haven’t seen Mary, but she may be inside the house already,” Lanie said.
“Hmm . . . that’s weird. You’d think if she saw you, she would come outside, or at least tell you to come in.”
Lanie and Jane reached the top of the hill. The house was now in plain view. It had obviously belonged to a wealthy family over one hundred years ago. The architecture was from the Victorian era, the paint was curled and chipped on the outside, windows had been broken, and shards of glass still remained in the frames.
Jane grabbed the doorknob and twisted. The door let out a long creeeak as it slowly swung open. Dust was prevalent, covering everything. The floor alternated between dirt and wooden boards.
“Mary? Are you here?” Lanie asked.
Nothing.
“Maybe she hasn’t made it yet,” Jane suggested.
“Jane! Watch out for that—”
Jane screamed.
“—cobweb.”
“Get it off of me! Lanie, get it off!” she yelled.
Lanie blindly got the cobwebs off Jane’s back. She then made a complete circle, allowing her eyes to adjust in the darkness and taking a long look at her surroundings.
“Oh, my God. There are webs all around us,” said Lanie.
“I’m sure they come with a special of the day, too—spiders,” Jane said, sarcastically.
“I don’t know about this, Jane.”
“Yeah, me neither. This place is not as scary in the daytime.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I don’t think Mary’s going to show.”
“I’m here!” Mary said.
“Where have you been?” Lanie asked.
“I’ve been upstairs waiting for you.”
“I’ve been standing down here calling for you! We were just about to leave.”
“Who is your friend?”
“Oh, this is Jane.”
“I thought it was only going to be us, Lanie,” Mary said. She carried a worried expression while making her way down the stairs. “But you had to go and bring her here.”
“You’re mad because I brought Jane?”
“Of course I’m mad!” Mary’s eyes slid into darkness.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“How could you do this to me, Lanie? I wanted to spend time with you. I wanted it to be just us. I didn’t ask for Jane to be here.”
“You never said anything about her not coming, either. If it’s going to be that big of a deal, then we’ll just leave.”
“Let’s go, Lanie,” Jane said.
“Yeah, I’ve had enough excitement for one night. I don’t need drama added to the list.”
“Don’t go! Please!” Mary begged.
“We’re outta here.” Lanie shook her head.
Lanie and Jane made their way back through the front door and out on the lawn. Mary’s cries of “no” were heard behind them. The hill was steep, and they tried not to stumble.
“Lanie, who were you talking to back there?” Jane asked.
“Huh?”
Jane laughed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“Well, at first I thought you were on your cell phone until I realized your phone wasn’t even in your hand. So, who were you talking to?”
Lanie froze, eyes wide.
Jane continued. “I heard from a few people that you’ve been seen talking to yourself.” She hesitated. “Lanie, if there’s something I can do to help . . .” her voice trailed off.
“How . . . Wha . . .?” Lanie mumbled.
“C’mon. Let’s get you home.”
“Wait! You didn’t see Mary?”
“No. There was nobody in there but us.”
“Then how did you know to get us out of there?”
Jane shrugged. “You seemed upset and were threatening to leave so I thought I’d help out on the situation.”
Lanie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Was she really and truly crazy? Had she been talking to herself? Was Mary a figment of her imagination? Lanie shook her head to rid herself of these insane thoughts.
As Jane helped Lanie get in the passenger seat of her car, Lanie shivered, not fully aware of what just happened. Jane walked around the back end of her car to the driver’s side, where she stopped and glanced up at the house. Mary stood on the front porch, smiling. She raised her hand to wave, but thought better of it. Jane winked.
Can You Hear It
Can you hear it?
The screeching of nails,
shredding the wallpaper,
disappearing around the corner.
Can you hear it?
The screams rising to the rafters,
shaking the windows,
disappearing into the basement.
Can you hear it?
The fists meeting bone,
crushing the body,
disappearing with every crunch.
Can you hear it?
The blade entering flesh,
slicing through its path,
In the Shadows Page 1