Just Add Water

by Hunter Shea

  “Help! Help!” he cried.

  All of the kids were rooted to their spots. How could a kid help an adult? Especially one that looked to be hurt real bad.

  Only Jimmy ran to him. His father saw him and screamed, “Get back, Jimmy! Back in the house!”

  “Oh shit!” David gasped. One of those creatures ambled into view. It was following the trail of blood left behind by Mr. Gilligan. It loped, kind of like that hunchback from the Frankenstein movies. But it never slowed its pace. Its mouth kept opening and closing, as if it could already taste Mr. Gilligan.

  Jimmy must have seen it too, because he let loose with a high-pitched yelp and turned back toward his house. His father was right behind him.

  “Everyone, get inside and lock your doors!” David shouted to the kids. They didn’t need to be told twice. The sound of doors slamming filled the air.

  He and Patrick were on a high porch. They were the last to heed his own advice.

  “What can we do?” Patrick said.

  David was about to answer I don’t know, when the monster lunged forward, tackling Mr. Gilligan. He then fell into Jimmy. With both of them sprawled on the sidewalk, the onyx monstrosity crawled over them, dipped its head and started tearing at their flesh.

  Father and son begged for mercy, but there was none to be had.

  Patrick clamped his hands over his ears. David knew it was pointless. They’d heard too much already. They would never not hear those screams in their heads.

  He grabbed Patrick by the elbow. “Come on. We have to lock up.”

  “Yeah. Windows, too.”

  While Patrick locked the door, David shut the windows and flipped the latches. It was going to get very hot, very fast.

  They lifted the blinds and watched the creature feast on their friend. Jimmy’s body shook as it wrested a hunk of meat from his exposed back.

  “What is that thing?” Patrick said.

  As it ate, it seemed to grow even bigger, the body filling out more, its lashing tail getting thicker, longer.

  “You should get your camera,” David said.

  “Why?”

  “So we have proof.”

  “They’re everywhere! Their bodies are the proof.”

  “I just want to be able to get a closer look,” David said. Something gnawed at the back of his brain.

  Patrick reluctantly got his Polaroid. It was one of the good ones, with a tele-zoom lens. David quietly opened the window, then the screen. He leaned out as far as he could without falling. Every inch he could get closer was valuable.

  His finger found the button for the tele-zoom lens. Suddenly, he could see the monster as clear as day. He snapped off a shot. Waited for the print to stream out, then took another, and another, handing them back to Patrick until the film pack was empty.

  When he was done, he shut the window tight.

  Patrick had the pictures laid out on the living room table. There were eight grisly shots in all.

  As much as it repulsed him to look, David studied every photo, the last couple still developing.

  He ran his hand over the stubble on his head and said, “Oh man, I think I know what they are!”

  Chapter Ten

  “Is it gone?” David asked.

  Patrick stood vigil by the window. He kept the blinds closed, cracking two slats just enough to spy between them.

  “Yeah. It took off when there was nothing left of Jimmy or his father.”

  “Let me see.”

  Patrick stepped back so David could take a look. He saw that all there was left was a red stain on the ground. Even their clothes had been eaten.

  David looked like he was going to be sick. “We have to get to my house.”

  “I kind of want to be here when my mother comes home.”

  “Bozak, you know word has gotten out about what happened on Virginia Avenue. The state police probably have all the roads to this area blocked off. If she went shopping at the mall, there’s no way they’re letting her back here.”

  Patrick hoped he was right. That was a far better thing to consider than the alternative. He just knew his father wasn’t all right. He couldn’t have gone down there in the thick of things without getting hurt or worse.

  He’d been trying hard not to cry this whole time, but a tear still leaked out from his right eye.

  “What’s so important that we have to go to your house?” Patrick asked.

  “I have to check something. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “After what we just saw, nothing’s crazy.”

  “Plus, my house has fewer windows and doors. It’s way more secure.”

  Ever since they had seen Dawn of the Dead, they pictured ways to fortify every home, store and building from zombies. These things weren’t zombies, but it was even more important to be in as safe a place as possible.

  “I’m not going out there without a weapon,” Patrick said.

  “Your dad have a gun?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then we’ll just have to improvise.”

  David dashed into the basement, advising Patrick to gather all of his baseball bats. They met back in the kitchen.

  “Grab everything sharp,” David ordered, going for the knife rack. The big carving knife sang when he removed it. Once the floor was filled with knives and cooking forks and baseball bats, David took a roll of duct tape from his waistband. “Let’s turn these bats into monster bashers!”

  For the next ten minutes, the heavy ripping of duct tape filled the air. The boys taped the utensils, pointed ends facing outward, all along the bats. When they were done, they had four makeshift maces.

  “Those things have pretty big heads,” Patrick said. “It’ll be hard to miss with these.”

  David swung one of the bats, spearing a loaf of bread on the table. The bag exploded with a loud pop.

  “I don’t think they’ll be so hungry when they get brained. You ready?”

  If Patrick could have his way, he’d never leave the house. Armed guards would have to assure him that everything was restored to normal before he stepped foot outside.

  But David had always been the leader of their small pack, and Patrick didn’t want to look like a wuss. He was also curious to see what was making him risk their lives.

  “I’m not locking my door,” Patrick said. “Just in case we have to run back in here.”

  “Smart idea. Okay, on three. One, two, three!”

  Patrick opened the door while Dave stepped outside, both bats held before him. If anything had been lying in wait, it would have impaled itself on the knives taped to the end of the bats.

  The coast was clear.

  The block was eerily silent. There wasn’t even a lick of wind.

  “Go, go, go,” David barked. They ran across the street as if their asses were on fire and the only bucket of water was fifty feet away. They hopped the gate, afraid to undo the metal latch and alert one of those creatures to their presence.

  Patrick saw a line of gray muck, like the world’s biggest snail trail, snaking past David’s house. He prayed that whatever made it was long gone, unlike the cloying stench coming off the trail like waves of heat.

  David led the way. They crept along the side of the house, entering the back door that was kept unlocked during the day. Once inside, they dropped the bats, panting.

  “See,” David said. “That was easy.”

  Patrick just shook his head, wondering if he was too young to have a stroke. “All right, we’re here. Now what?”

  “Downstairs.”

  They clomped down to the still-empty downstairs apartment. David went straight to the garbage can, upending it so the few contents spilled all over the floor.

  “It’s a good thing I kept forgetting to take out the garbage,” he said. “Sometimes putting things off is a good thing.”

  There was the box they had opened for the Amazing Sea Serpents, along with the empty packets and instruction book. David scooped up the cardboard back
with the cartoon of the grinning sea serpent family. He held it close to Patrick’s face.

  “Look familiar?”

  Patrick squinted, studying the comic drawing.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Those creatures outside. Don’t you think they look a lot like the Amazing Sea Serpents?”

  “Not really, no.”

  David sighed, exasperated. “Look, they have tails; those things have tails. The sea serpents are standing upright, and so are those monsters.”

  “But the rest looks nothing like them.”

  “You remember those weird sludge balls that kept on growing?”

  “I’ll never forget them, or the stink they made.”

  “When we were close to them down on Virginia Avenue, didn’t the smell seem familiar?”

  Patrick sat at the kitchen table, resting his head on his arm. “I was too busy pissing my pants to notice.”

  David started pacing. “I think those sludge things somehow grew into those monsters. Something in the sewer kept them alive instead of killing them. And now they’re too big to stay down there.”

  Looking up, Patrick said, “I hate to say it, but you might be right. Now that I think of it, they do look a little like those curled-up black balls. At least the head part does.”

  David flattened the instructions on the table.

  “This is all in Chinese or Japanese or whatever. There’s no telling what it says.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m sure it spells out how to turn your dumb pet into a man-eating monster.”

  David folded the paper and put it into his back pocket.

  “We have to find someone who can tell us for sure.”

  “I’m not going back out there, man.”

  David rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Look, I don’t want to, either. But we may be the only two people who can find a way to stop them.”

  Chapter Eleven

  David could tell his friend wasn’t digging his plan. He might be right. Maybe it was better—and smarter—to just hole up in one of their houses and wait for the good guys to swoop in and clean everything up.

  Then he thought of the massacre on Virginia Avenue. The good guys had come, and they were more than likely dead.

  Which left him wondering, What makes me think we’ll do any better?

  “Because we know what those things are.”

  “What’d you say?” Patrick asked. They were poised by the front door, peeking out of the bottom portion of the screen. So far, the street was clear.

  “Nothing. Just thinking out loud. Now, the good news is, those things are probably all that way,” David said, pointing to their left. “And we’re going that way.” He pointed to their right. “Totally in the opposite direction.”

  “There’s one word that scares me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Probably. It’s been over three hours since we saw them outside the Kendall. They could be everywhere by now.”

  David chewed on a thumbnail, or what was left of it. His old habit had come roaring back, and already most of his nails were down to the quick. “I don’t think they’re going anywhere for a while yet. There were a lot of people down there. You saw what that thing did to Jimmy and his dad. It didn’t even look up until it had eaten every last scrap. There’s too much to eat down there. At least for a while.”

  He tried not to linger on the image of the monster tearing into his friend. Jimmy may have been a know-it-all smartass, but they’d hung around with each other since they were three. He was really going to miss his sarcasm.

  David smiled, trying to bolster Patrick’s spirits. “Besides, we have these.” He hefted one of the weaponized baseball bats.

  “I’ll do it, but only because I’m faster than you.”

  David was about to ask what that could possibly mean when it dawned on him.

  “Thanks for planning on leaving me to those things, bozak.”

  “Don’t make me have to.” Now it was Patrick’s turn to smile, pained as it was.

  They made sure the door didn’t make a sound when they left. Each one watched the other’s back as they hopped over the fence onto the sidewalk. David spotted Alan watching them from his living room window. He waved to him with the bat. Alan gave him a thumbs-up. He hoped Alan would decide to come with them, but he had Chris to keep an eye on and Chris couldn’t even watch The Twilight Zone without having nightmares. There was no way he was leaving the house.

  He figured it would take them ten minutes to get to the little strip mall over on Tuckerville Road. That’s if they jogged most of the way. Running would be even better, but they had to be careful.

  They agreed to stay close to one another, only speaking in whispers.

  “Who knows, maybe we’ll run right into the police or army,” Patrick said.

  “You still holding on to the whole army-to-the-rescue thing, aren’t you?”

  “Isn’t that what they do? Save people from danger?”

  David wasn’t sure where the nearest army base was, but he bet it wasn’t anywhere near Tuckerville, which was just outside of Manhattan. Not too much call for military installations in the suburbs.

  They kept pace with one another, turning left at the end of Churchill and following Garvin Street for several long blocks. It was beyond weird, not seeing cars on the road or people out and about. They did see plenty of people looking out from their windows, but no one made a move to ask them what they were doing or offer any help.

  “This town is full of chickenshits,” David said, huffing.

  “Maybe someone came by and told them to lock their doors and stay inside.”

  “Whatever.”

  David did his best to burn the image of each person and house in his memory. If they survived this, he was going to make sure he never let them live their cowardice down.

  They were just about to make the left onto Webley Street when a German shepherd came bounding out of a driveway. It was covered in black slime, with patches of fur missing, bloody flesh exposed. The boys stopped dead in their tracks.

  “He looks pissed,” Patrick said out of the side of his mouth.

  “And hurt. I don’t wanna have to kill a dog.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to give us a choice.”

  David choked up on the bat, one of the knives pressing into the meat of his hand.

  The dog was barking so loud, so fiercely, foam and spittle flew everywhere. David was sure the whole world could hear.

  “Keep it down, boy,” he ordered. The dog kept right on growling and barking.

  In an instant, its wounded legs sprung. Its mouth was wide open, hungry to tear a chunk of flesh from them. David and Patrick raised their bats but couldn’t swing in time.

  The German shepherd bowled into them like a missile, the flames of death burning in its cold, black eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  Patrick landed hard on his back. The bat clattered into the gutter. His breath whooshed hot and hurriedly from his lungs.

  Straining his head back, he watched upside down as the bloody German shepherd latched onto one of the creatures. It was loping hungrily toward them, downwind, so they hadn’t been able to smell it coming, much less hear it.

  The oversized sea serpent thrashed and wailed, its cries sounding like a cross between a yowling cat and a trilling blue jay, completely at odds with its massive and deadly appearance. David was already on his feet and trying to lift Patrick up.

  “Let’s go!” he barked.

  Patrick found his bat and ran, glancing over his shoulder at the same moment the sea serpent tore the dog in half.

  “Oh crap,” he huffed. “It’s still coming!”

  The sea serpent dragged the halves of the dog, munching on the tail end as it ran. Now, this close, Patrick knew for sure that the things grew as they ate. The creature easily wolfed down the dog the way he’d cram a Pop-Tart into his mouth on mornings when he was late for school. When the thing was done eating, P
atrick swore its head was bigger, the legs more muscular, propelling it even faster.

  He looked at their bats, realizing with sinking dread that they may as well have been carrying wands for all the good they would do.

  They were coming up to the turn onto Tuckerville Road. This was a main thoroughfare for the town. He couldn’t remember ever not seeing the streets chock-full of cars, even late at night.

  Today’s traffic report called for empty streets with a commute that could be as quick as you could gun the engine of your car.

  Patrick and David ran side by side, but they were slowing down. The day was taking its toll on them, and their legs felt heavy, their ribs aching from taking what seemed like endless streams of deep, worried breaths.

  The sea serpent was only ten feet behind them. Patrick could hear and even feel its heavy footfalls through the soles of his sneakers. The wind shifted and the full vileness of its stench hammered them like a billy club.

  “Get down, boys!”

  The booming voice startled them.

  An older man stood on his lawn holding a very imposing rifle. He fired once, the shot buzzing just over their heads. The boys dove to the ground, skinning their knees on the pebbled sidewalk.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Every shot was a direct hit in the sea serpent’s head. The assault stopped it in its tracks. It leaned on its thick tail, arms dangling at its sides, unable to fall completely on its back.

  Grayish ichor leaked from the four wounds.

  “Great shooting,” David said to the man.

  He looked at them with wide, glassy eyes, his white hair puffed out like cotton balls on the sides of his head. “I . . . I did it. You boys should go in my house. The front door’s open. You’ll be safe.”

  “We have to get to someplace on Tuckerville Road,” Patrick said.

  “There’s nothing there for you to go to. I have a bomb shelter in my basement. You can stay in there until this blows over.”

  The monster still hadn’t fallen, but it no longer looked like it was breathing. Patrick still couldn’t believe that this thing came from a simple, stupid Amazing Sea Serpents kit.

  “That’s okay,” David said, grabbing Patrick by the elbow. “Thank you for saving us. We’ll be fine.”