Zombies, Werewolves, Whores, and More!

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Zombies, Werewolves, Whores, and More! Page 8

by Jerrod Balzer


  “I stayed at your grandfather’s house that night, waiting to see what came of it. We expected to see her light up at any minute, but the church never burned. We found ol’ Al later, wandering the field with a blank stare on his face. He’s been that way ever since. I don’t know what he saw in there, but it needs to be left alone.”

  “That’s quite a story,” Samuel said.

  “It’s true, damn it!” Joe tried to make a fist to show he meant it. “I remember it vividly because I still have nightmares about it. I see Hogan’s face dang near every night!”

  Samuel perked up. “What was that name again?”

  “Hogan, that’s the name of the shaman, preacher, whatever the hell he was. If you ask me, I’d say he was the very beast they were trying to conjure up.”

  Samuel left the room without saying “goodbye.” As he sped home, he called whatever numbers he could remember for those attending the revival. No luck.

  Judging by the vehicles, the church was as packed as the morning services. He could smell the food before he reached the steps. He entered and was greeted by a few excited attendees before they sat down at Hogan’s signal to begin. While the crowd was welcomed by their energetic host, Samuel approached the table that lined the wall to the right. Jesus stood there, eating chicken wings with a big grin.

  “I love these things,” Jesus said in a hushed tone with sauce smeared around his lips. “They’re so spicy.” He held out a clipboard with a pen attached to the top. “Here, sign your name for the attendance sheet.”

  Samuel took the board, looked the signatures over, and glanced at Hogan, who was stirring up the congregation as he had before. He looked back at the signatures and pulled the sheets down on the board. The clip was hiding a statement printed at the top. He read part of it aloud to Jesus. “I hereby surrender my flesh and soul…” He paused.

  “Go on,” Jesus said. “A declaration works as good as a signature.”

  “Is this for real?”

  Jesus swallowed another mouthful of chicken. “Yep, and now you see why we couldn’t have children here tonight. We can’t take the souls of the innocent.”

  “But, but none of these people are giving up their souls willingly! You tricked them!”

  “Hey.” Jesus yanked the clipboard back. His grin was gone for the first time. “A siggie is a siggie, even in the afterlife.”

  “I’ll put a stop to this.” Samuel took a step toward the stage. Jesus grabbed his arm. “It’s too late. You’d may as well sit back and enjoy the show.”

  Hogan continued with his sermon. “…tell me, do I have your complete trust?”

  The crowd gave him a unified, “Amen!”

  “Do you have faith in me?”

  “Amen!”

  “Are you willing to put your very soul in my hands so that I might guide thee?” He held his open hands to them.

  “Amen!”

  “Well, then.” Hogan’s smile turned to a sneer. He curled his fingers into tight fists. “Let’s get this party started.”

  There were knocks heard up and down the floor. The crowd jumped and gasped. Fists busted through the wood and arms extended to grab people’s ankles, holding them in the pews. Screams filled the church while they struggled. The center aisle cracked and split open enough to allow two demon imps with lizard skin and leather wings to emerge. They flew to the ceiling and laughed at the writhing congregation below.

  Hogan tossed the podium aside and took a few steps back. Taking the cue, the imps flew to either end of the food table and raised it. Jesus removed the platter of chicken wings before it was carried to the stage in place of the podium.

  Hogan rubbed his hands together. “Okay, who’s first?” A whimper behind him caught his attention. Ms. Woodsworth was crying at the piano, petrified.

  “Ah!” After a wave of his hand, the imps dove at her and forced her screaming, wriggling body onto the table among the food.

  “Take it easy on her,” Jesus said to the creatures. “She brought the chicken.”

  Hogan motioned for the woman to hush and then took the eyeballs from her sockets. He swallowed them whole, emitted a belch, and used a knife from the table to cut her heart out to eat, as well. Now it was the imps’ turn. They tore chunks of flesh from her and devoured them like starved dogs. After they’d had their fill, they tossed the body into the center aisle crevice. Hands welcomed it, pulling it into the soft earth below.

  Meanwhile, some of the congregation’s men had managed to free themselves from the grabbing hands. They abandoned their family and friends to seek an escape. Samuel watched them throw their bodies against the front entrance. It wouldn’t budge. One of them leapt at a window, which shattered on impact but he was held back by the screen. Another man pulled him back, raised the window pane, and kicked the screen out.

  They crawled outside and one said to the other, “We’re free! Come on, let’s take your truck.” Car keys were pulled out of a pocket only to be dropped, sinking into the ground as soon as they touched it. Before either could react, hands emerged from the soil and pulled them down.

  Inside, one of the imps tasted a cake on the food table and spit it out, disgusted. Then it slung a handful at the woman who brought it. She was oblivious to the chunks hurled at her, squealing as the hand on her ankle drew blood from the pressure.

  Hogan pointed at her. “I guess you’re next.” The hand released her to the imps and they placed her on the table.

  Samuel looked at Jesus, then to Hogan, the woman who convulsed while her eyes were plucked out, and then to the open window. He sprinted to the window, pausing long enough to pull on a person in a rear pew. After realizing the hands were too strong to pry loose from, he climbed through the opening to freedom.

  Hands reached from the ground and his shoes began to sink. Samuel leapt toward his car. The earth was becoming more like quicksand around the church but he was able to get to his vehicle by stepping on the two men, whose shoulders and crying heads were still exposed.

  He had the ignition turned before the driver’s door was shut. He put it in gear and floored the accelerator. The rear tires spun in the loosening dirt and burrowed straight down until the car was halfway submerged.

  Samuel muttered a few curses and crawled out onto the hood. The line of cars and trucks were close together. Perhaps he could jump across them. The screams from the church motivated him to try. He leaped to the truck next to him, slipping on the hood and falling against the windshield, but he didn’t slide off. His confidence was growing now. He jumped again and again until he landed on the gravel driveway. From there, he ran hard until he reached the road. Then he looked back.

  Jesus stood on the steps of the entrance with the wing platter in hand, chewing on chicken and waving at Samuel. All around the church, the vehicles were swallowed by the earth until the place appeared vacant. Samuel fainted.

  The next day, police investigated the disappearances and found the inside of the church in shambles. The furniture was in disarray and the new floor was full of holes. They found Samuel wandering the road and he was brought in for questioning. He wore a blank stare similar to his great uncle Al’s, and he would only say, “The church went bad.”

  No Returns

  “I’m gonna eat you, bitch!”

  Caitlin looked out the window of her brown-brick apartment with those words echoing through her mind. Three floors down, the man who spoke them stared up at her in a filthy dress suit. He focused on her without moving or speaking, oblivious to the people passing him on the sidewalk.

  She was returning from the grocery store when she ran into him while crossing the street. The smell had knocked her back more than bumping shoulders with him. He had an intense look on his face that relaxed when he recognized her.

  “Lindsay?”

  That was her name on the street. With her real name being Caitlin, her first choice when starting the profession was “Cat” but that was already used in the District by someone of high authority. No work
ing girl was allowed to use the names Cat, Kitty, or Kitten without risking serious consequences. The name “Katie” was also used and she didn’t want to cause any confusion, so she went with her old stage name from the strip clubs. She bore a likeness to a certain celebrity, hence…

  “Lindsay, is that you?”

  She hoped it was rice rolling from his mouth when he spoke. There was a Chinese restaurant nearby and perhaps he’d left in a hurry with a mouthful of food. She looked at the pavement between them and the rice was moving. That was when he said, “I’m gonna eat you, bitch!”

  “Get away from me, you maggot muncher!” She combined both grocery sacks to one hand and ducked his swinging fist. She kept a small dagger strapped to her thigh that had a black widow carved into the handle, and when she came back up, it was in her free hand. He received a few quick stabs under the ribs before she fled into the apartment building.

  Now she stood watching him and wondered why he was still standing. I shouldn’t have come inside, she thought. I should have run down the block so he wouldn’t know where I live. She’d expected the stabbing to be more effective, though, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it. Her black cat jumped onto the couch next to her and mewed.

  “It’s okay, Pussy,” she said and pet her. “Momma will get you some food. I’m just keeping an eye on this bad man, first.” It wouldn’t do any good to call the police, not in this neighborhood. There’d have to be a lot more going on than a harassed whore to pry them away from the Waffle House. She had a plan in case he entered the building. She would run straight to the bedroom, and when he followed, she’d be waiting with a pistol from her dresser. After popping one off into his chest, she would ease him outside to the fire escape and flip him over the rail into the alley below. No one would question her, and somebody else would dispose of the body. No problem. She had done it before, after all.

  As for why this man had chosen Caitlin to obsess over, she was unconcerned. His mental instability was obvious. Perhaps he had been chewing on his three-day-dead parakeet while sitting on a plate of dry Cheerios, and he suddenly remembered paying her ten bucks a few years ago for a lap dance. The delusion set in that it was now time to search the area for her, brush some barbecue sauce on her thighs and have her finish. Whatever his reasoning, no man had the right to touch her unless she agreed to the business terms offered. And maggots, honey, are non-negotiable.

  “Would you just leave?” There was some kind of stinky crap on her knife, like old, putrefied blood. Whatever it was, she knew there had been penetration. The creep had taken damage. Why he hadn’t fallen over yet, she was unsure. Finally, he shook a disciplinary finger at her and walked away.

  “Crazy bastard,” Caitlin said and shivered, more to shake off his stare than anything else. Then in a more playful voice, she said, “Come on, Pussy, let’s get you some eats.”

  She turned the television on for the news and went to the kitchen, which was an extension of the living room but with a tiny island and linoleum floor. Her face brightened when she saw a familiar face on the screen. “Oh look, it’s Senator Wilkins! Momma spent all day with him today. Yes, sir, hanging out in a luxurious hotel suite is a great way to spend the first day back on the job.”

  While she opened a can of Meow Mush, she mused at how the senator had more than enough money to get a fancier girl but had a soft spot for her. She felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman with him, except for all that happy ending stuff from the movie. He was married and had no intentions of leaving his wife. At the end of the session, it was time to collect and go home to her Pussy.

  “Again,” the newscaster said, “Senator Wilkins died only moments ago in his home, having recently returned from a golf trip. He was fifty-nine.”

  Caitlin nearly fell backward as she set the food dish on the floor. “He’s dead? But… I was just with him!” She rubbed her arms and waist, thinking about how the last hands to caress her were now cold and stiff.

  I need a shower.

  Pussy didn’t seem to care. She was content with her Meow Mush while Caitlin gathered a clean set of clothes from her closet, the gun from her dresser in case that creep came back, and she went to the bathroom muttering, “Fifty-nine. Damn, he seemed younger than that. Did I wear him out?”

  She had cleaned up before leaving the suite but this was a security thing. It was her way of stepping out of the world for a moment to gain some perspective, and whenever she was upset, the warm streams seemed to slow her mind down enough to organize her thoughts better.

  After she finally stepped out to dry off, primp in front of the mirror, and get dressed, Caitlin returned the gun to the bedroom dresser, then walked into the living room and emitted a short scream.

  Seated in her easy chair was a young man with a stained shirt and blood smeared around his mouth and chin. On top of that, he didn’t look very healthy. She looked at the door. It was still closed, and likely still locked.

  “Relax,” the man said with a smile. “It’s cool. The latch on your bedroom window is loose, by the way. Jiggle the pane and the whole thing will rise up.”

  Caitlin let out a nervous laugh and returned to the bedroom. Sure enough, the window leading out to the fire escape was partially open. A light breeze brushed the curtains to further affirm the fact. She went back to the living room with her gun in hand and pointed it at the intruder.

  “Go ahead and shoot.” He tapped his forehead. “You’ll have to hit me right here, though. I’m already dead.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, and apparently, you’re the one who killed me.”

  Caitlin was too shocked for his words to sink in right away.

  He waited for the stress lines in her forehead to fade before continuing, “I was a customer of yours a few weeks ago. I’m Roger, the guy with the blue Miata. I’ve got the birthmark that you said was cute.” He paused to let her think about it. When he saw the recognition in her eyes, he said, “Well, a few hours after we concluded our ‘business arrangement,’ as you liked to call it, I died.”

  Caitlin smirked. “I’m supposed to believe that?” Given the timing of the senator’s death, she was not amused by this prank.

  Ignoring her, Roger went on, “It was the weirdest thing. There was this sharp sting in my nether region, and it felt like a swarm of spiders spread from it. The sensation covered my entire body and then my lights went out. Sometime after that, I opened my eyes. I was still dead but… not.”

  Caitlin stared at him, trying to find some logic in his story. He didn’t seem to be breathing except to talk, and what was with all the blood around his mouth? Her thoughts went back to the maggot-eating creep and the way her knife didn’t seem to hurt him.

  “What makes you think it was my fault?”

  He sighed. “It’s hard to explain, really. When I woke up, I just knew it was you. I kept getting this image of you in my mind, and you were all rotten and wormy.”

  “Yuck.”

  “And I’m not the only one. There’s dozens of others like me who’ve been looking for you. They’re not happy with you, either. We’ve been wandering the streets for a week now but you haven’t showed up at any of your usual corners.”

  “I’ve been out of state. An old friend was having a crisis.”

  “Regardless of where you’ve been, your absence made you look guiltier, like you know what you did and you’re in hiding.”

  Caitlin put one hand on her hip. “This is the first I’ve heard of such a thing, and if you didn’t know where to find me, what are you doing in my apartment right now?” She groaned. “You’ve got something dripping out of your nose.”

  “Someone ran into you a little while ago.” Roger wiped the dark fluid away with his shirt sleeve. The blood around his mouth was now spread across his cheek, as well. “He told all of us where you lived and they’re on their way as we speak. I got ahead of them, though, so I could find you first.”

  “Is that right?” Caitlin walked to the window and looked out.
Everything appeared normal. That man’s voice echoed through her head. I’m gonna eat you bitch! She turned back to the corpse in the chair, sure to keep the gun pointed at him. “So I’m guessing you wanted to be the first to get your mitts on me. Is that it? You wanted to take the first bite while I was still alive?”

  Roger smiled. The blood around his lips, the pale skin, and the yellow eyes made him look like a strange clown. “Perhaps if you were doing this intentionally, but that’s not the case, is it?” He paused until she nodded her head. “There are actually two reasons I jumped ahead of them. First, I wanted to know what the hell happened to cause all this.”

  “I’d also like to know.”

  Her ignorance caught him off guard. He’d thought for sure she’d have some clue of the situation. “Think back to a few weeks ago. Did anything peculiar happen to you at all?”

  Caitlin shook her head but then thought of something. “I guess there was this one john.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, he was standing in an alley and kind of moaned as I passed by. The shadows hid the top half of his body, but it was his gloved hands that caught my attention. In one hand, he held a grand in cash, ten bills all with hundreds on them. The other hand was holding his erection. He didn’t have to say anything. I took the money and got on my knees, but he let out this disapproving grunt. I don’t normally take johns so easily, especially like this guy. He smelled like ass, but that was a lot of money!”

  Roger leered at her. “So you bent over for him.”

  “I made him wear a condom!” Caitlin said. “Don’t look at me like that. A grand is a grand, and it helped finance my trip, afterward. Anyway, that was the only weird thing I can think of.”

 

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