by Sheri Leigh
The best dare—or worst dare, depending on your perspective—when they were kids was staying in the graveyard overnight. Shane and Nick were the only two who’d ever actually stayed out in the cemetery until dawn.
"Bet you both two-hundred bucks you wouldn't do it now!" Chris said.
It wasn’t really the money. Shane had just never been able to resist a dare.
He looked at Nick, and Nick had grinned back at him with a nod. "You're on!" Nick said. "Let's go."
They all piled into Shane's Mustang. Chris' car was in the shop and Billy had thrown a rod on his Mercury. Going on ten o'clock, Shane pulled up along the eastern fence. The gates were always locked after eight. John Evans made sure of that.
Tossing his keys to Chris, Shane said, "If you mess her up, I’ll mess up your face!"
"Yes, boss!" Chris snapped him a salute.
"Here." Nick handed Shane a six-pack. "We may need this."
"Good deal." Shane eyed the low fence. It was only chest-high, but the spikes running across the top were pointed and sharp.
"I'll go first." Nick zipped his jacket up. "Then you toss me the beer. After that, I could care less if you spear your nuts."
"Go screw, Chandler." Shane watched Nick put his foot on the first crossbar.
"I’m not into necrophilia." Nick grinned back at him as he swung one leg up so his foot was on top of the fence, between two of the spikes.
"You’re a sick man!" Jake called from the car.
"You know it." Nick squatted on top of the fence, poised precariously above one of the spikes.
"Have a seat, Chandler!" Evan snorted laughter.
Nick jumped, hitting the ground and rolling. He stood up, unhurt, and gave Evan the finger. "Okay, now for the beer!"
Shane handed the six-pack through the fence and started to climb.
"Well, guys, I suppose we'll see you in the morning!" Chris called, heading toward the car. Shane hit the ground and stood up.
"I swear to god, Chris, if you mess that car up, I will kill you!" Shane called through the fence. From inside the car, Evan clicked the headlights on and off.
"If you're alive in the morning!" Billy called, exaggerating a mock-scary laugh. “Bwah-ha-ha-ha!”
Chris got into the driver's side of the Mustang. Shane watched as he started the car, put it in reverse, and backed it out onto the road.
"My car is going to be totaled," Shane lamented, watching Chris peel out and disappear toward town.
"Don't worry about it." Nick laughed. "He's only a little bit drunker than you are."
"You're a big help." Shane picked up the six-pack.
They made their way through the cemetery by the light of a full moon. Nick stopped by an old oak tree just beginning to lose its leaves and plopped himself onto a flat headstone.
"Have a seat." Nick nodded at the headstone next to him. Shane sat, placing the beer between them. "Here." Nick pulled two cans off the plastic ring and handed one to Shane.
"To life, man." Nick held his beer up, popping the tab. Shane lifted his and touched the can to Nick's.
"To friendship," Shane said.
"To sex," Nick countered with a grin.
Shane laughed, tipping his beer up. “I’ll drink to that.”
Nick leaned back with a sigh, resting his back against the tree, wedging his beer between his thighs. "Man, I want to get so shit-faced I won't be able to feel how damned cold this headstone is.”
"What headstone?" Shane looked around, innocent. That cracked them up.
“God, you're one lucky son-of-a-bitch, Shane," Nick sighed. "You don't have to do anything but stay in this town and party for the rest of your life."
"Spare me that fate," Shane grumbled, looking across the cemetery. In the moonlight, the headstones rose darkly, and tree branches threw shadows over the grass.
"Hell, this little town isn't so bad," Nick said softly.
Shane took a drink of beer—it was getting warm. "Not if you're Nick Chandler, I guess. But I gotta tell ya, if you're Shane Curtis, this little town makes Dante’s ninth circle look like Barnum and Bailey’s."
"Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?" Nick sighed.
Shane agreed with him, finishing the beer off. They were quiet for a while, listening to the sound of the wind rustling the leaves above them.
"Ah damn, I gotta get up early tomorrow." Nick groaned, closing his eyes. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Up early on vacation?” Shane raised his eyebrows and tipped back his beer again.
“Yeah, about that…” Nick looked at his friend, his gaze then quickly falling to the ground. He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you. Shane…I’m…I’m sick.”
Shane looked sideways at him in the moonlight but didn’t say anything.
“They pretty much did everything they could do for me back in California.” Nick’s smile was a small, sad thing. “I came home because… well, because I wanted to die at home.”
“Fuck.” Shane crumpled the can in his hand and threw it, hard. It clinked against one of the headstones. “Cancer?”
“Secondarily, yeah,” Nick agreed.
Shane frowned. “What is it primarily?”
Nick sighed, his gaze finally moving up to Shane’s face, meeting his eyes. “AIDS.”
They sat together quietly again for a while, the wind picking up in the trees. It was Nick who started talking again. “I haven’t told my parents yet. But Suzanne knows. And since she’s an RN, she’s agreed to do all the at-home stuff I’ll need, when it, you know, gets bad. Gotta love a girl armed with a morphine drip.”
Shane’s snort was his only reply.
Nick took a gulp of his beer, looking off into the distance. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do ya?” Shane popped the top on another beer.
“Yeah.” Nick crushed his empty can, looking over at his friend. “And you’re right. It’s true.”
“I know.” Shane’s reply surprised them both.
"How long have you known?" Nick sounded like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him.
"Since we were kids, I guess." Shane shrugged. What need was there to pretend? He’d suspected as much for a long, long time. “Who else knows?”
“Suzanne. She’s actually known longer than anyone—since high school.” Nick frowned. “No one else, not really. This town…”
“Tell me about it.” Shane nodded, smiling grimly. “I’m glad you finally told me.”
“But…” Nick hesitated, frowning. “You never felt the same way?”
“Man, you know I love you.” Shane smiled and nudged his friend. “But I don’t pitch for that team.”
“I thought…” Nick laughed, shaking his head. “I thought you’d hate me if I told you. I thought everyone would hate me.”
Shane nodded. “Some might,” he agreed. “I don’t.”
“Well… thanks.” Nick sighed deeply, leaning back against the tree again.
“She wouldn’t hate you either, you know,” Shane said after a moment.
“Who?”
Shane nudged him again. “You know who.”
“Oh hell.” Nick shook his head, frowning. “I fucked that up so bad. I love my sister, Shane…you know I do. But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand seeing her with you.”
"Well, now she hates me." Shane’s voice only caught the slightest bit. “And she doesn’t know the truth about her own brother. I’d say…yeah, I’d say it’s pretty fucked up.”
“I’m sorry.” Nick sighed. "I’m gonna do my best to try and fix it."
“So you’re gonna tell her you’re gay?”
“Yeah.” Nick tipped up his beer. “I am.”
Shane crumpled a can and tossed it between his feet. “You can’t protect her forever. She’s not something you can lock up in some cage.” Nick was silent and, to Shane, he seemed sad, tired and even a little bit ashamed.
Shane watched these emotions cross Nick's face, and finally Nick said, "I
know...and I'm sorry. I wish now that I had told her. I wish I’d just let things happen between you two, because I think I've hurt her more than anyone will ever hurt her in her life, and god knows I never meant to. But you have to understand how much...”
Nick looked down at the ground, shaking his head. “I was a kid. I didn’t even understand what I was feeling at first. And I thought, maybe, some day…you would…” He shrugged, meeting Shane’s eyes. “I loved you. I won’t apologize for that. I wanted you to love me back. I wanted you to love me, not her.”
“I know.” Shane kicked at the can between his feet. “Man, I’m sorry. You’re like a brother to me. You know that.”
“So…you’re not into incest either?” Nick grinned.
Shane laughed. “I’m into women, I’m afraid. And one in particular, even after all these years, sad as that is.”
“She’s in love with you, too,” Nick said, his voice cracking. “Always has been. Still is, Shane. That’s the truth.”
"She has a hell of a way of showing it," Shane scoffed.
"I won’t be in the way anymore." Nick leaned his head back and looked up at the stars. “I promise you that."
Shane glanced at him, swallowing hard. “I’m afraid it’s too late.”
“Maybe not. You won’t know if you don’t try.” Nick grabbed another beer.
“Water under the bridge.” Shane shrugged. “And she’s a little far away to be testing the waters.”
Nick hung his beer between his knees for a minute, staring at the ground. “I think I can get her to come home for a while. Her circumstances…have changed.”
“Quit playing matchmaker, all right?” Shane laughed, clapping Nick on the shoulder. “I’m more worried about you than I am about anything else. What’s all this ‘I’m dying’ crap about? You’re not gonna die. Not on my watch.”
Nick smiled again, that sad, small smile, and shrugged. “Maybe not. Who knows?”
Shane leaned back against a tree with a sigh and closed his eyes. The beer was beginning to give him that warm, sleepy feeling it always did when he’d gone past his usual limit. Not that he set those too often or anything. Then he heard Nick's deep, even breathing and knew, from years of sleepovers, the sound of his friend asleep.
He began to think of Dusty, knowing Nick was wrong about one thing—Dusty would never love him now. Nick had definitely put a stop to that. He dozed off, listening to the gentle rustle of autumn leaves. The next thing he knew, Nick was trying to wake him up.
"Shane?" Nick shook him, hard. "Shane, are you awake?"
"I am now." He opened his eyes and stretched. He was stiff and cold. The wind had begun to blow harder. He checked his watch. It was almost one in the morning.
Christ, whose idea had this been anyway? he wondered groggily.
"Do you smell something?" Nick whispered.
Shane focused on his friend, squatting in front of him, shivering.
"Do I what?" Shane pulled his collar up.
"Smell something," Nick repeated. "I smell something...bad."
"No." Shane shook his head.
Then he did. The wind had shifted and now there was…something…
"Yeah," Shane corrected himself. "What is it?"
"I don't know, but it's coming from over there." Nick pointed into the distance.
Shane squinted, trying to see into the darkness. They were near the western fence, and all he could see were headstones and the dark, hulking shape of a family mausoleum. There was nothing moving but the wind in the trees.
"It's probably nothing." Nick hugged his arms across his chest and stood.
The smell was stronger now, and Shane had finally placed it. It was the decaying smell of something long dead.
"Maybe a dead coon or something?" Shane wondered out loud.
"Yeah, maybe.” Nick shivered. “You think they'd know if we took off? I'm freezing!"
Shane stood, looking around. There was no sign of life. Everyone had gone back to the Starlite, or more likely, were out joy-riding in his Mustang. He was sobered up now and cold.
"Probably not." Shane stomped his feet on the ground, trying to get feeling back in them. "It was a stupid idea anyway. We're not twelve anymore. Let's get out of here."
Nick leaned over to grab the rest of the six-pack. Then they heard a low, scraping sound, and Shane turned to look at Nick.
"What the hell?" Nick cocked his head.
Shane shrugged, looking toward the mausoleum. The smell was worse now, riding the wind current in their direction.
"Is it coming from in there?" Shane pointed toward the mausoleum. Nick strained to see in the moonlight.
"Dare you, Shane." Nick grinned.
"Dare's go first," Shane said automatically.
"All right." Nick dropped the beer, motioning for Shane to follow him.
Shane came up behind Nick as he walked toward the mausoleum. In the moonlight, they could see the cement steps leading up to the door. The family name, carved in stone, was in the shadows.
Shane's fists clenched and he realized his heart was beating hard and fast. He thought of Joe Wilson, dead and buried, killed by what the authorities could only surmise was a bobcat, and decided he didn’t want to pursue this any further.
"Nick, let's—" Shane started, but Nick nudged him, cutting off his words, pointing toward the door. It stood slightly ajar.
"No wonder it smells." Nick glanced over his shoulder at Shane. "These are supposed to stay shut. One of the vaults is probably cracked."
Nick reached out to push open the door, moving it only slightly—it was solid and extremely heavy.
And a hand closed over his wrist.
Nick yelped in surprise and fear and Shane cried out, too, taking an instinctive step back. Then Nick began to scream and Shane heard a crunching sound he only later understood was the sound of the bones in Nick's wrist being pulverized.
"Jesus." Shane's voice was barely a whisper as the moonlight slanted across the grass and into the doorway.
"Come on in." The clotted voice was full of humor, and Shane's mind was unable to grasp what he was seeing. A man, once, possibly, dressed comically in a three-piece suit. He got brief, split-second impressions—razor-sharp, pointed teeth, claws and wild whitish hair matted with blood. Nick struggled but he—it—held his wrist tightly in one clawed fist.
"Come on in," it said, its voice a rotten, chortling thing. "Join me for a bite." It patted its stomach, grinning, its voice low and full of grit.
For a moment Shane was frozen, feeling warmth spread through his crotch, although he wouldn’t realize for hours that he’d wet himself—then he lunged at the thing. It was surprised only for a moment, and that was Nick’s one chance. He took it, wrenching free of the thing’s grasp while Shane wrestled it to the ground.
The thing’s face opened up—a mouth gaping wider than anything Shane had ever seen, pointed teeth dripping with saliva as it bared them and prepared to take a bite out of Shane’s flesh. He felt it coming, knew it was the end, but still he didn’t let go, his hands closing around the thing’s throat.
“No!” Nick’s foot connected hard with Shane’s side and he felt pain radiate through his ribs—cracked two, he found out later—and he groaned as he flew off the thing and landed hard on the ground. Nick’s eyes were wide and wild as he attacked the man—thing—throttling it to the ground.
“Mine!” That’s what it said. Shane knew he’d heard that clotted voice say, “Mine!” as it flipped Nick to the ground, just before its face opened up again and it buried its teeth into Nick’s mid-section.
“Go!” Nick screamed. Impossibly, he was screaming at Shane, telling him, “Run, Shane, run!”
It happened too fast. Shane stood, only a few feet away, prepared to attack, to pull Nick to safely, but his friend was pinned on the grass beneath it and his screams had suddenly stopped. Long, sharp teeth sank into his flesh, and Shane shrank back, watching, horrified.
The bright moonlight showed t
he starkness of Nick's ribs as the thing stuffed innards into its mouth, swallowing. With one long claw, Nick's eyeball was popped out and tossed into its mouth. It chewed, eyes closed, savoring it as if it were a delicacy.
Shane stood and watched with dawning horror, jamming his fist into his mouth to stop a scream.
And then he ran.
He slipped once or twice, glancing over his shoulder, appalled as the thought crossed his mind—what if it’s still hungry?
The thought spurred him on, and he flew over the fence, unable to block the image out of his mind of that thing taking his friend's insides out by the handfuls and shoving them into its mouth.
* * * *
“No.” Tears streamed down Dusty's face when he finished. “No! No!”
Dusty rocked herself, shaking, her arms wrapped around herself, and he reached for her in the darkness.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” she whispered against his chest, letting him rock with her.
He buried his face in her hair. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Too late.” She gave a short, pained laugh.
“And he was scared.” He sighed, kissing the top of her head. “And so am I.”
Dusty tried to reconcile what he said with what she knew. It wasn’t Shane’s fantastical explanation that had caught in her mind. It was Nick’s revelation. Her brother—Nick, the star quarterback—he was gay? Even as she wanted to deny it, she knew it was true, that she had lived in denial about his feelings for Shane, the way Nick kept them apart, for too long. She shook her head, not wanting to admit it, that he had been afraid to tell her, had even feared revealing his illness. My god, he’d been dying. Her brother had been dying the night he was killed… The irony made her shake with anger, and her thoughts finally turned back to what Shane had told her about who… what… had killed him.
“Shane, are you sure…what you saw…?”
“I told you.” He laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”
"I... well…" Her mind groped for words that made sense. "It’s kind of out there."
“Tell me about it.” He moved away from her and Dusty stood, arms folded, going to the window and looking out onto the street where the snow blew in the cold November wind.
"Maybe you just thought you saw this... thing?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It was dark. And you were both drunk. "