Graveyard: A Stay Dead short story collection

by Steve Wands

  “Well, we’re not sinners. We’re just kids, and I don’t believe in God,” said Kayla.

  The man was clearly flabbergasted by Kayla’s remark. He’d never heard such a powerful statement come from a little girl. He sat on the couch with a grin as big as a truck, and slapped his knee.

  “Well, that makes two of us kiddo,” the man said, “God isn’t real. Sure, I went to church—even got a cross in house—but that don’t make him real does it? No, it doesn’t,” he said.

  “Me and Connor believe in God and we aren’t sinners,” Keith piped up.

  “Sure you are, ever do something you weren’t supposed to do?” the man said.

  They all fell silent for a moment. The two boys felt guilt creeping up on their spines. They thought the man might know what he was talking about. Kayla remained unimpressed.

  “Oh, come on now, I’m just kidding with you kids. You did a good thing by letting me in here, I could’ve been killed but you chose to save me. God likes it when you do good things like that, but enough serious talk. What do you kids like to do?” the man asked.

  “We like to play games,” Connor said.

  “Heh, me too, kid. I love games.”

  Connor got excited and ran to the closet. He pulled out a few games; Checkers, Trouble, and Clue. Connor didn’t quite grasp Clue all-that well, but he liked the pieces it came with.

  They sat at the kitchen table once more. The man had pulled a warm beer from the fridge and opened it with a ring he had on his finger. The kids thought it was a cool trick. As the night progressed they would jump from game to game. They talked and the man answered many questions. He told a lot of tall tales and Kayla remained unimpressed. She could see some of the holes in his stories. The more he drank, the more holes became visible. After a while he began to make expressions that reminded Kayla of some of the older boys that had crushes on her at school. She felt weird around the man now. She felt inside her pocket to make sure her pocketknife hadn’t magically disappeared—it hadn’t.

  …to be continued in Stay Dead: Kings of the Castle Part 9!

  The man nearly finished all of the warm beer, and the kids grew tired of playing games. They wanted to go to sleep and made no qualms of making it known. They yawned and stretched, and the man just watched. He had a buzz, but it was a sobering one. It dulled his desire, and made him second-guess his next course of action. He’d always been a patient man. Waiting was in his nature. He saw no reason to rush; their parents were most likely dead and certainly not coming home any time soon. There were no authorities coming to the rescue. He had all the time in the world. The kids left the table and went upstairs to put on their pajamas. The man stayed at the table trying to get another warm sip of beer past his lips.

  “Do you kids mind if I stay for the night,” he asked as they climbed the steps.

  “Maybe,” Keith said.

  The man didn’t like ‘maybe,’ the world was run on yes and no, and nothing else.

  Once upstairs in the safety of their makeshift headquarters, Keith locked the door and turned to Kayla. They both had worry in their eyes, and though Connor didn’t, he knew they did.

  “This guy is giving me the creeps,” Keith said.

  “Big time!” Kayla exclaimed, “he keeps looking at me funny, I’m scared.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Keith said quietly.

  “We should tell him to leave,” Kayla suggested.

  “I don’t think he’ll listen,” he replied.

  “What are you talking about,” Connor asked.

  “We think this guy might be a bad guy,” Kayla told him.

  “Why? He’s not trying to eat us,” Connor said.

  “He’s creepy,” she said.

  “Yeah…but all grown-ups are,” Connor smiled.

  Connor was always full of little bits of wisdom. Grown-ups were creepy, and the more they aged the creepier they became. Hair starts showing up in odd places, skin wrinkles and becomes spotted. Their ears get big, and wobbly, and eventually they die. Even in death they are creepy. Now, after death, they are creepier still.

  The man snooped around downstairs. He moved from the kitchen cabinets to the pantry, the window to the base of the stairs. He went from feeling exhilarated to depressed and back and forth between the two. He was a yo-yo ready to snap. The kids had not come downstairs. He started to worry and began pacing back and forth.

  Connor, Kayla, and Keith began pushing one of their dressers in front of the door. The one thing they could think of; was to lock themselves inside, and stay far away from the man who now paced around their inherited home. In the course of pushing and shoving, a toy tank fell to the ground and cracked. It made a loud enough noise to be heard in such a quiet house. The man heard it, and walked toward the steps.

  “You kids okay?” He called.

  They did not respond.

  “What are you guys doing?” He asked.

  They did not respond.

  The creepy man knocked on the door and the kids didn’t answer. He tried the doorknob; it didn’t have a lock. He twisted the knob and pushed forward but the door wouldn’t move—it was blocked.

  “What are you guys doing?” He asked again.

  “Stay away!” Kayla yelled

  “Get out of our house,” Keith followed up.

  Connor sat on the edge of his bed. He was as pale as wet paper and trembling. The man laughed. He laughed deep and hard. He seemed to find genuine humor in the situation.

  He began shouldering the door. The kids screamed at first, but their fears quickly turned to anger. The man rammed the door again, and the dresser began to budge. The door was now open enough to fit his arm through. He reached his arm in and felt around. Keith grabbed his arm as Kayla and Connor pushed the dresser against the door again. They weren’t strong enough to push it with sufficient force to injure the man, but it did put the man at a disadvantage.

  Kayla, having been trapped in her own bedroom before, knew that something had to be done. She pulled the pocketknife from her pants and opened it. The blade was sharp but small. She held it tightly in her fist, the blade pointing downward. Keith was struggling to keep the man’s arm from disappearing behind the door. Kayla raised the knife to shoulder-length, and plunged it down into the man’s wrist. He screamed. The man was able to pull his arm back as Kayla pulled the knife out. She was surprised to see how much blood the small wound left behind. Connor was crying. Keith looked dumbfounded. Kayla looked satisfied. The man continued to scream, and as he did so, he shouldered the door once more.

  “Little bitch, little bitch,” he screamed, “let me in!”

  …to be continued in Stay Dead: Kings of the Castle Part 10!

  Despite the man’s angered pleas and curses, he could not convince them to let him in or to simply come out. He punched and kicked and the door began to splinter—he’d be in sooner rather than later. Kayla searched for a way to stab him again, but to her disappointment she could not find one that involved moving the dresser or venturing beyond the door. Fear froze the kids. They did not know what to do or where to go. They had only two options: open the door, or go out the window.

  “Come on, we have to go,” Keith said.

  Keith moved to the window before either of them could ask where. He climbed onto the windowsill and began making his way to the roof once more. The door continued to splinter as the man behind it howled in wild rage. He managed to budge the dresser with each blow to the door. Keith hung from the roof with his hand outstretched downward to help Connor shimmy himself up to roof. Kayla swung her head from Connor to the door and back again—the man was almost in, and Connor was almost up. Kayla gripped her knife tightly, her lip quivered. She stepped closer to the door which now had a fist-sized hole in it. She could see the man panting but still shouldering the door. He was slowing down, tired, and in pain. She quietly climbed onto the dresser and as the man shoulder the door again she stuck him once more with the pocketknife. He howled and clutched at his shoulder. The bl
ade was buried deep and as the man moved away from the door the knife went with him. He pulled the knife from his shoulder and put his face up to the hole in door. His eyes were huge with hate and when he saw the young girl who stabbed him he screamed a number of obscenities at her.

  He screamed out all the things he wanted to do to her once he got through the door—things no child should ever hear. Things no child should ever have to face. He stuck his head through the hole and flicked his tongue up and down in quick succession. She spat at the man and ran for the window. His words stuck with her and made her feel dirtier than she had been while locked away in her bedroom.

  As Kayla began climbing to the roof the man burst through the door with the small pocketknife in his hairy-knuckled hand. His shirt was torn and covered in blood and his teeth looked like dirty yellow knives. Keith pulled her up by her arm as she kicked herself up. The man hung out the window slashing the little knife upwards in a desperate attempt to slice her.

  He pocketed the knife and pulled himself up to the roof. His shoulder throbbed in pain as he did so, but his adrenaline dulled the pain. Before the kids knew it—he was up there with them. Had they thought he would make it to the roof they would have kicked him down, or tried to stop him. He now stood on the roof, knife in hand, panting like a mad man. The kids backed up toward the edge of the roof near Kayla’s home. Once again they were left with two choices: stay on the roof, or jump into the tree that separated the two homes. To the man’s surprise, they jumped.

  …to be continued in Stay Dead: Kings of the Castle Part 11!

  Luckily the three landed safely, with the exception of a few scrapes and scratches, in the brush of the tree. They moved like monkeys, climbing quickly along the branches till they had to jump to the ground. The man, still in disbelief, followed their cue and jumped after them. He broke through the brush and snapped many branches before he fell to the ground. He landed in such a way that his tibia cracked and protruded through his flesh. He lay there writhing in pain, screaming. His breaths were labored and angry. The kids looked at him triumphantly. The kids didn’t look long however because the noise they made warranted the attention of the roaming dead things—and they crept toward them.

  The kids ran back to the house but the front door was locked. They attempted to go around to the back of the house but the creatures were too close for comfort. The windows were locked as well. The kids had done a good job of fortifying the home, too well in fact, because they could no longer get inside. Left with no other options they ran.

  The man, still-writhing in pain, squirmed toward the house. Had he been paying attention to the children as intently as he had for the last few days he would’ve known there was no easy way inside. The creatures stumbled closer to him as he pushed himself along the lawn. With each push came agonizing pain from the bone-pierced-flesh of his leg. The creatures descended upon the man. Whether they were drawn by the noise, his scent, the growing puddle of blood that surrounded him, or from something unseen by human eyes, they fell upon him. They clawed, and grabbed at his wounds. They grasped at his mouth and eyes. They bit him over and over again, devouring his flesh. The man’s shrieks of agony turned into the sounds of gurgling as his own blood pooled in the back of his throat.

  The children ran into a cluster of bushes and watched as the savagery continued. The creatures eviscerated the man. He ceased to make any noises. The dead things chewed on his flesh and innards. They plucked out his eyes, his tongue, and began clawing at his head. The kids could no longer watch. They were near vomiting, but the noise would surely give them away. Fear forced their stomachs to subside.

  Keith looked for a way to get back inside his home, but he found none. The dead things grew in numbers and surrounded the corpse of the man whose intentions were cruel. Though the scene was disturbing and would undoubtedly leave an indelible mark on each of the kids, Keith could not feel sorry for the man. As far as he was concerned—he got what he deserved. With no idea of where to go, the kids ran off into the night, surrounded by darkness, the only light was that of the moon and the stars.

  …to be continued in Stay Dead: Kings of the Castle Part 12!

  Keith, Connor, and Kayla walked for over an hour. They kept mostly to the shadows and moved slowly. Their run-ins with the dead creatures of the night were few and far between but terrifying nonetheless. They passed a number of homes that were boarded up, and tried, on one occasion, to gain access to one. The people inside either couldn’t hear their knocking and pleading, or chose to ignore it.

  Being the vigilant trio they were, they carried on. They came across a number of streets that still had its streetlights on. They preferred walking down those—but still clung to the safety of shadows. At the end of the street they spotted a police cruiser parked in the middle of the street with its door ajar. They ran towards it.

  Sitting slumped on the pavement was the remains of a police officer. His head was a pile of swollen mush sitting on his shoulder. Flies and maggots crawled and burrowed atop the corpse. There was a pool of blood with chunks of human meat scattered around the dead man in blue. Connor vomited on site of the man. Keith stepped closer, and Kayla stood her ground between him and his brother. The man was clearly dead, he had multiple wounds; tears, bites, bullet holes, and there was what was left of his head—which wasn’t much.

  Keith reached forward, his fingers snatching the dead man’s badge. He pulled it from his frayed and blood-caked shirt—wiping the blood on the hardened blue fabric. He attached the badge to his pants pocket. Kayla watched not really understanding why he was taking it from corpse. Connor sat on the curb spitting the sour taste of puke from his mouth. Keith then unbuckled the man’s belt, his hands trembling badly. He struggled removing his belt—but he eventually removed it—and slung it over his shoulder. Keith now had a badge and the gun to go with it, as well as an extra clip, a baton, a set of handcuffs and its keys—all thanks to the belt.

  The trio continued down the street, the next block’s streetlights were out, but there was a light in the distance. Not knowing what else to do, they headed in its direction.

  As they walked passed the last lit streetlight before turning down the next street a dead thing (with only half its body left) crawled from underneath a truck. It looked burnt and pussy. Its forearms were reduced to barely-skinned bone crutches. The creature’s innards dragged behind it, though not much was left inside, save that of dried blood and maggots. It startled the trio—and, unable to prevent the natural reaction, they screamed—letting all within earshot know where they were. The creature crept closer, what it lacked in speed it made up tenfold in its ghastly and grotesque appearance. Keith fumbled for the gun as they backpedaled away from the crawling remains of the dead man. He finally had the gun, holding it in both hands, as he’d seen in many movies and television shows and pointed it at the creepy crawly. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He shook the gun in his hands and tried again but still nothing. Despite all the knowledge he gained from movies, the safety feature on any given firearm was never acknowledged. He frantically tried one more time to shoot the creature but still the gun did not fire. The creature was now on his leg and Keith had no choice but to smash the gun down on the dead things head. He did so again and again, the gun and his hands were cover in pulpy bits of flesh, sinew, and thick coagulated blood. He still held the gun as if he intended to shoot it but used it like a hammer. In the melee the safety became unlocked. A shot rang out from the gun and Connor screamed. The dead thing lied at Keith’s feet as his brother squirmed in the street, “you shot me,” he cried.

  …to be continued in Stay Dead: Kings of the Castle Part 13!

  Connor squirmed on the ground clutching at his bleeding leg. He lay in a pool of blood as he cried. Kayla tried to help but had no idea what to do. Keith dropped the gun and ran to his brother’s side.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry…sorry…don’t die…please God, I’m so sorry, Connor! Please be okay, please!” Keith begged.

>   Connor refused to move, he was stricken with fear and pain. Creatures crept forth from the shadows, lurching towards the sounds of Connor’s pain. Kayla was the first to notice, she pointed into the darkness at pale limbs and faces that swept through the cover of night. Keith ran back for his gun, wiping the gore from it on the grass. He pointed it into the darkness ahead as he urged his brother to get up.

  “C’mon, Connor, get up man. We have to go, they’re coming!” Keith pleaded.

  Connor continued to squirm in the street, and the dead things continued to creep forward. Keith aimed his gun at the closest creature, and fired. The blowback made him stagger, but Keith kept his footing. He couldn’t tell if he hit his mark, and if he did, it didn’t matter cause the dead thing moved forward still, unaffected. Trying to aim for the head, Keith fired again, nothing. The noise from his gun seemed only to pull more creatures from the darkness. Kayla had managed to get Connor to his feet. He was covered in his own blood and kept both hands on his leg. He was sobbing, and his chest heaved. Kayla supported the side of his body where his wound was and helped him begin to move. His steps were slower than those of the dead, and every one agonizing.

  Keith fired again, and again, to no avail. He squeezed the trigger once more, and the gun refused to fire. Keith tried again, but the gun was empty. A shot rang out through night air, followed another. Two of the creatures fell to the ground. They didn’t get back up. A man emerged from the darkness carrying a rifle. He wore dark clothes, and a black hat. A dog trotted along behind him, remaining silent but with such a powerful presence she didn’t need to bark.

  “Stay where you are,” the man called.

  The trio didn’t move. They didn’t so much as whimper. The man raised his rifle and took down a few more of the lurking dead. He whistled and his dog trotted toward the kids. They stood as if made of ice, or cement. The dog sniffed each one of them, giving a sad whine once she sniffed Connor. The man jogged over to the kids, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.