Unnatural Tales Of The Jackalope

by Jeff Strand

  ″Top of the line,″ he had said. ″It′s great for pointing out stars at night.″

  His mother was somewhere in the dark nearby, crying, cradling her suddenly swelling eye and his bloody father stalked the perimeter of the porch as if afraid to leave the safety of the porch light. He swore and cried, threatened and pleaded, and in the distance, sirens began to wail finally. This was the memory of the night that Alex′s steady and sure-footed world first began to mix with the unreal, and the unknown. But in this dream, Alex finally felt the confidence he needed to be the strong, and he stood up. The short rubber shaft of the laser swung from its wrist strap and Alex felt the hidden heat of it, like a secret wanting to be shared.

  Aiming the blue laser beam into the heavens, he watched the dull clouds absorb the blue color, then part; the blue rain drops ceased falling, and the soft shadows sharpened into reality.

  Now, he saw his mother and his father clearly.

  The bus was moving again, rapidly, bouncing over ruts and holes. A cacophony of cries, groans and screams (and something else altogether) reached his ears before Alex could open and refocus his eyes in the gloom. To his left, Jimbo was holding onto the seat back in front of him. The hat on his head shook precariously in the jostling of the vehicle. His eyes rolled like a frightened animal. To his left, the familiar shadows of his mother and the upset cries of his sister reached his eyes and ears.

  They were all back. Together again.

  And they were moving forward, barreling through snowfall that seemed to fall in Biblical proportions. The window in the front was a constant changing mosaic of white and black. The bus driver, half-standing, his frame obsidian against the bus windows, wrestled the driving wheel as if he were the captain of an ill-fated ship. Maybe Jack Sparrow or Captain Ahab. He had abandoned using the intercom.

  ″I see something ahead!″ he shouted over and over.

  ″It′s gone, sport,″ Jimbo said through clinched teeth to Alex. Somewhere on the bus ahead of them, Alex heard the familiar clatter and clack of his walking braces as they slid forward, sideways, and recollided again in the aisle, underneath feet.

  ″W-what′s gone?″ Alex asked.

  ″The carcass! The body!″

  Alex felt groggy, slow.

  ″The leader, the goddamn body I bagged and stored perfectly in the belly of this metal beast, man!″ Jimbo said.

  Alex remembered waking (dreaming) earlier and hearing the noises beneath them. He remembered the shadows fleeing the safety of the rest stop.

  ″Alex?″ His mother asked with worry. He didn′t respond and wondered if her bruised eye burned, like a warning or an omen about misdeeds.

  ″He′s okay, aren′t you?″ Jimbo said to both of them. Alex nodded.

  We′ve lost a tire, the driver shouted. But... but I see something ahead... something... it looks like cave so... so... oh jesus...

  ″Well,″ Jimbo said, trying to lighten the mood. ″If we all survive, just think... we can sue OverTrail!″

  Jimbo saw the bewildered look on Alex′s face and added, ″But I′m sure it′ll pay in pennies! Hold on! We′re not done yet!″

  Alex thought about the space beneath the bus, and imagined that the metal sheathing was ripped free and shredded on both sides. Ripped by the gnashing of sharp little teeth and shredded by coral-like antlers. And passenger bags falling out on the desolate northern Arizona landscape, in the snow, buried under the snow. Would anyone who happened to find them wonder what happened in their last minutes?

  The bus plunged into absolute darkness and the white cascade of snowfall disappeared from around them and in front. They were underground, in a cave that seemed to adequately accommodate their moving bus. Alex wondered if it was a mining tunnel. Something—and Alex could only describe it as a roar, perhaps a creature not used to using it—erupted nearby, behind them and the sound shook the windows and chilled his bare skin.

  ″This could be the end of the line, chum,″ Jimbo said.

  Alex couldn′t comprehend, couldn′t believe this declaration. The tall, thin creepy man with an ancient rocky smile wanted to give up, and Alex couldn′t help but to feel that they were plunging deeper into the storied earth, falling further away from sunlight.

  Falling down the rabbit hole.

  This must be what Alice felt like, of course if she had been real. And instead of a simple rabbit with a pocket watch and preoccupation with being late, ancient killer rabbit half-breeds that wholly existed and chased them with razor-sharp antlers and even sharper teeth. Perhaps with insatiable hunger pains.

  ″What I bagged, chum,″ Jimbo said. ″What I thought was a leader was only a minor deity, more like a servant or concubine. Or in other words, I killed one of the leader′s favorite whores!″

  Alex cringed against another roar from within the tunnel. The sound was like bone grating against bone.

  ″That, my friend. That is a big one, if not the biggest one. Could you imagine this massive creature′s head decorating some wall somewhere? Obscene! The ground harbors more than we know... more than we can expect to understand.″

  ″Mom?″ Alex asked, overwhelmed by the situation. Was he dreaming again? What was real and what wasn′t?

  ″This fucker... it′s going to demand a sacrifice, I′m afraid. Retribution.″

  Retribution, Alex thought.

  I... the bus driver began hesitantly. I think we′re out of driving room. This tunnel seems to plunge down sharply, not straight anymore... I... I don′t know what to say...

  The bus slowed considerably, almost immediately.

  But thank you for choosing OverTrail bus lines for your mode of transportation. We know that when you travel, you have many options.... We...

  The bus came to a stop and a massive force pressed against the rear of the bus. Metal buckled and several windows shattered in the violence. Alex was thrown forward into the seat back ahead of him.

  A sacrifice.

  Absently, Alex felt for the laser pointer and was surprised to find it fastened to his wrist, its cool rubber grip an invitation to touch. With the bus stopped, he pressed the activation button at the bottom of the pointer and brilliant blue light shot upwards from the structure in his hand and collided against the roof of the bus. Those dark silhouettes, unseen bus patrons, turned around, eyes, faces, chins towards him and recognizable finally.

  All anxious eyes fell on Alex and his beam of light, and hope became a flicker in a multitude of human orbs—now bluish-green, hopeful, and hungry for life.

  The beast outside howled again, and Alex directed the brilliant blue beam outside from all the windows accessible to him. Small shadows with smaller shrieks against the night moved in his side vision. The burrow seemed to close in on them but Alex held fastidiously to the contraption and....

  found himself aiming it over his mother′s head...

  and moving it slowly downward...

  the crash of glass again...

  screams...

  ...and finally

  nothing

  Alex felt sunlight on his face through the window, warm and comforting. He opened his eyes and saw Savannah, sleeping, lying next to him, her small fists positioned against her chin and abdomen as if to welcome any adversity.

  Jimbo was gone again and so was his mother. It was almost as if they hadn′t existed before the morning sun, except for the battered appearance of Jimbo′s hat on the floor. All the windows were intact and Alex felt the comforting grip of the laser pointer against his wrist. The absence of people in the seats around him caused him to pause, but it wasn′t just his own row of seats. It was many seats throughout the bus, as if their ranks had been thinned.

  In the back, the bathroom door tapped absently against its frame. Alex noticed there wasn′t anyone inside either.

  Picking up little Savannah, Alex then moved to the aisle and found himself able to move forward, one careful step at a time. Coming up next to an OverTrail passenger, Alex tapped the older woman on the shoulder. She turn
ed and looked up at him expectantly, puzzled.

  ″W-what happened last night?″

  The woman cocked her head, a question forming on her lips. He waited a moment but it was obvious that she wasn′t aware of anything extraordinary.

  ″I was asleep.″

  ″Did you s-see my mother?″

  ″No,″ she said, and then a smile. ″Is that your baby sister?″

  Uh... this is your driver again. We′ll be in Las Vegas soon, with continuing service to Boise, Idaho, Spokane, Washington, and ending near the seaside in Seattle, Washington...

  ″I think things will be a lot different from now on, sis,″ Alex whispered to his sister. He reached his seat, and slid in next to the window.

  You will have a new driver for the next couple of legs of the trip. My... uh... my portion is done here in sunny Vegas... I′m outtie...

  Alex watched the desert landscape spin by, the last vestiges of the quick-moving desert storm melting under the celestial influence of the sun.

  ″...enjoyed being your driver and OverTrail bus lines thank you for your patronage...″

  Seattle, Alex thought. Gray skies and rain. He sat wondering what it′d be like to see the cold blue ocean.

  NEW JACKALOPE CITY

  AARON J. FRENCH

  MISS SHIRLEY LEANED FORWARD and peered through her spectacles across Beaumont Street where the small creature had just disappeared into the vacant lot.

  ″What′n the name-a Jesus is that?″ she exclaimed.

  She watched a moment longer, seeing nothing, then leaned back, the old wood chair squeaking beneath her. She started to rock, fanning herself with what had once been her grandmama′s handfan.

  ″Hey there, Thomas,″ she said, calling at the teenage boy walking along the sidewalk in front of her porch.

  ″Hi, Miss Shirley.″

  ″Shouldn′t you be in school?″

  ″I′m going.″

  ″It′s close to noon.″

  He shrugged. ″Mama and I was fightin′ this morning. She gots a new boyfriend.″

  ″Ahh...″ She made a noise of disapproval with her mouth, then shook her head. ″She need to be spendin′ more time at the church,″ she remarked, more to herself than to Thomas, ″and less time at the bar.″

  Thomas glanced at her but continued walking.

  Suddenly it was back. She knee-jerked, quit her fanning. This time she was positive she′d seen it. ″Come out here, you little bugger...″ she said.

  The half ruined rooftops of the surrounding houses loomed over the vacant lot; a ratty old sofa that someone had dragged out there, which the vagrants sometimes used as a bed, sat toward the rear. The little vermin was bouncing in that direction.

  ″Make me get up,″ she complained, struggling to her feet and smoothing the front of her dress. She stretched her aching bones, then headed down the steps.

  Beaumont seemed unusually deserted. The air was hot, though she felt a cool breeze. She searched the sidewalk and yards for folks, but found no one.

  She looked to make sure no cars were coming and moved slowly across to the other curb, hiking up her dress to step onto the sidewalk. She steered her attention toward the vacant lot, and sure enough, there it was—undoubtedly a rabbit of some sort—hopping around by the abandoned sofa. The largest hare she′d ever seen, and the most strange-looking. It had twisty ears that coiled upward off its head and large red eyes in lieu of glossy black ones. It sniffed at the sofa cushions, then disappeared around back.

  Miss Shirley started across the lot, picking through the rocks, weeds, broken bottles, and junk heaps. ″Just what are you up to, little bugger?″ she said.

  She crept behind the stuffing-plumaged arm of the sofa and found the crouching creature. She pointed her finger. ″There you are!″

  The rabbit glared at her with unblinking eyes. Its small pink nose twitched as it seemed to sniff the air.

  ″Aw well ain′t you sweet,″ she said, softening at the sight of the animal. ″You certainly is cute. What′s that on your head?″

  She leaned forward to have a better look, and realized that what she had mistaken for long twisty ears were, in reality, two bone extrusions. Horns, actually, as crazy as it sounded. Horns of a full-grown buck.

  She gasped. ″I′ll be darned. You′re a curious thing, ain′t yah? You like fried chicken?″

  The bizarre rabbit-deer stretched out its neck and sniffed with its nose, as if seeking a pet. Miss Shirley couldn′t see the harm in it. She stuck out her hand, fingers extended.

  Its mouth suddenly dropped down several inches too wide, exposing rows of gleaming canine teeth. Drool seeped. Red eyes burned. The creature even emit an awful sound—a kind of eeping.

  It leaped at her.

  ″Oh Lord Jesus, help me!″ she cried as the thing pounced on her, driving her down to the ground with its wide, flat feet. Teeth like a swarm of bees tore into her, and she screamed so loud it hurt her lungs. Birds nesting in the nearby treetops flapped away.

  Blood splattered the fabric of the dirty sofa.

  After a minute or two, her screams ended abruptly, and Beaumont Street went silent once again.

  ***

  ″Did you hear? Miss Shirley got murdered!″ Ray doubled over, clutching his boney knees, panting and out of breath.

  Thomas flicked the ash from the cigarette he was smoking. He didn′t want Leo to see him coughing because that would mean he would get called a punk or a buster again. Leo was always looking for an excuse to be a jerk. Thomas remembered this as he passed the cigarette to the older boy.

  ″What the hell you talking about, Chopstick?″ Leo said.

  Ray stood, still panting. Half Asian, half black, he was the skinniest boy in town. Thomas often wondered if it had anything to do with the stuff they ate at his house. He′d eaten over there a couple of times and Ray′s mom had fed them plates of stringy vegetables and white rice—stuff Thomas′s mom would never make.

  ″Miss Shirley is dead,″ Ray said, waving a noodle-like arm. ″I just ran by there. They was cops all over the lot across from her house.″

  ″What happened?″

  The boy shook his head. ″I don′t know. Blood was all over the sheet and she got wheeled into the ambulance. I heard one cop say they was bite marks all over her.″

  Thomas was shocked by the image. ″Damn.″

  Leo, standing a foot taller than them, flicked the last of the cigarette into the alley, which they were hiding themselves in for the remainder of the school day. His eyes shone hot brownish-green. He grinned, revealing his busted teeth.

  ″Dope,″ he said. ″Let′s go check it out.

  ***

  Lots of folks were out on their porches all along Beaumont Street, while some stood in their front yards, shielding eyes against the sun. Reese and some of the other known gangbangers were there in front of the Burger King on the corner, looking on with half-muted gazes, clutching 40oz beer bottles.

  Thomas followed Ray, who was following Leo in a single file line, moving up the side of Beaumont Street. The area was choked with police cars, some with doors open, most with visibar lights flashing silently. Stern-looking white men in blue uniforms a couple of black dudes as well; one or two women were all gathered around the vacant lot, where cordon tape had been stretched in a wide triangle from several fences and one tree trunk.

  ″What′s happening?″ Leo asked a small group of men and women who were out on their front porch. Thomas recognized one of them: Mr. Jeffrey, one of his mother′s drinking buddies; Mom had even dated him for a while.

  A tall man smoking a cigarette and wearing a white t-shirt and jeans answered: ″Some psycho kilt Miss Shirley. Hacked her up into bits and left bite marks all over her. Now they is scraping what′s left of her into little evidence baggies.″

  ″Word?″ Leo said.

  Mr. Jeffrey added, ″You punks better be carful. Killer may still be in the area. You could be next. Might find your own selves getting scraped into little baggies b
efore the sun goes down, with teeth marks covering your skin.″

  The group chuckled hoarsely, but Leo flipped them the bird.

  ″Why don′t you shut up, yah old fool,″ Ray said, trying to sound tough.

  Thomas′s skin crawled. Images of Miss Shirley′s hacked-up body danced in his head, and he pulled his jacket tighter against his shivering torso, tugging his ball cap over his eyes.

  They made their way to the small crowd, which had assembled where the yellow tape was stretched taut. Everyone was talking about what′d happened, laughing, smoking, cracking jokes. Hardly anyone seemed upset. Thomas found this disturbing. He didn′t know Miss Shirley all that well; she was just another old church lady; but he had seen her just that morning.

  Thinking about her being alive one moment and dead the next made him feel strange, like he had smoked some of Leo′s herb. His mind raced.

  ″Check out the sofa,″ Ray said. ″Told you they was blood.″

  Thomas peered past the yellow tape and the cops meandering in the vacant lot and saw the reddish-brown stains on the dirty sofa. He had never seen anything like it outside of a horror movie.

  ″Yo, look at that!″ Leo said. ″Real blood! That′s dope!″

  A few people glanced at the boy and chuckled, but Leo paid them no attention. He looked just like a kid at the circus.

  Thomas didn′t say anything—couldn′t say anything, actually. Something like syrupy fear had wound its way into his bones, paralyzing his limbs and causing his heart to beat too fast.

  After a while Leo said, ″This is boring. I gots one more smoke left. Let′s go behind these houses and light up.″

  ″Word,″ Ray said.

  Thomas could only manage a nod, but as they turned away from the cops and yellow tape, he swore he glimpsed sudden movement in the corner of his eye something small and skittering that seemed to vanish into the hedges, something that very closely resembled a severely messed-up-looking jackrabbit.