The Inhuman Chronicles (Book 1): Inhuman

by Feren, Todd C.

  I took a sharp breath in and staggered back.

  The pit bull didn't move...At all. The tiny shit of a dog that I arrived with squeaked his new toy and walked up next to the taxidermied monster. When the little dog saw my reaction to the bigger dog, he turned to face the stuffed beast, and then he let out a mighty roar. Well..."Mighty" was as much of an exaggeration at the word "roar." It was more like an angry "chirp." When the large sawdust filled dog failed to react, the smaller dog pounced and began to chew as violently as he could on the much larger dogs front leg.

  I took this opportunity to take in my new surroundings. Photographs of the pit bull literally wallpapered the room. Bronze footprints sat on a shelf next to framed pictures and a row of chewed up frisbees. On the wall next to the window was a picture of a gravestone that read, "RIP Taco.”

  "Taco?"

  Pete had dedicated this entire room to a dog that died years ago. He had the dog stuffed, mounted, and had every square inch of the room plastered with photographs of the dog. This seemed as alien to me as his zombie fucking fetish.

  The smaller dog didn't relent on his all out assault of the bigger dog. I decided to leave now while he was distracted. As I made it to the top of where the stairs used to be, I could still hear a faint growling from Taco's room. I swung my lower body off the drop, and then slowly shimmied my way down. I took two steps before I heard a familiar "squeak."

  I turned around just in time to see the little dog soaring through the air towards me with the giant T-rex in his mouth.

  If I had another second to think, I would have side stepped the mutt and let gravity decide his fate. But my reaction to something flying at me took over, and I caught him in my arms where he landed T-rex first. My arm was wet with the slobber from the chew toy, and I pulled my hands back to my sides quickly dropping the dog and his cargo to the ground. He landed without incident and even looked up at me with that damned smile of his before giving his toy another solid squeak to tell me he was okay.

  "Great." was all that came out of my expressionless face. "You made it."

  Right next to the front door was a giant black duffel bag that had the handle of some big gun sticking out of it. I opened the bag and was shocked by the amount and variety of weapons I was now face to face with. Small guns, big guns, things that didn't look like guns, and boxes upon boxes of bullets. The little dog stuck his head in the bag and then gave his dinosaur an approving squeak.

  "You're damn right,” I said.

  The bag...was heavy. I strapped it across my entire back, and my legs shook like a palsy patient under the weight of them. But I only have to make it across the street, and the only zombie was the business man. I just have to outrun him, and only if he's done with his close inspection of the blue vinyl.

  I opened the door, and my question was answered immediately. The business man was not to be seen. I slowly made my way out the door and onto Pete's porch. My legs burned with each step. Once we got to the curb, I ran into my first problem. The curb itself. My legs already felt like rubber, and I only walked across Pete’s front lawn. The prospect of stepping down made my knees ache with the thought.

  Only thing to do is do it, I thought. I tried to take the step as slowly as I could, and it took every ounce of strength in my body to keep my knees from buckling. I turned to see if the dog and his dinosaur were still following me, and they were. Behind them, I could see the business man. He was unaware of our escape, still facing the blue vinyl. I looked down at the dog, and when our eyes met, he let out another excited squeak from his toy. My focus shifted back to the business man who turned to see what sort of food squeaks. I looked back at the dog.

  "Are you kidding me?!" I spit out through my labored breaths.

  The business man did what business men do. He got down to business. He lurched along behind us with outstretched arms. I tried my best to double down my breakneck snail’s pace to something along the lines of tortoise speed.

  The dog seemed happily unfazed by our pursuer, and he ran care free circles around me as I moved tremulously forward. The business man was gaining on me, and I tried to do quick math to see if, at our current speeds, he would catch up. Droplets of sweat began to drip into my eyes and make vision a chore. Spittle flew out from my clinched teeth as I threw each leg forward with everything I had. I turned my head slightly to see that the business man had closed the gap and was now about ten yards behind me. Then I saw the obstacle that would be the end of me.

  The curb on my side of the street.

  Stepping down off of the other side was hard enough, and gravity was working WITH me. Now, the impossible task of stepping up the six inch curb would give the business man all the time in the world to catch us.

  I know what you're thinking. Drop the bag and run! Sure. Sitting there in your comfy chair, you have all the answers. The fact of the matter is, it was a duffel bag that I put on like a back pack. I originally did it to keep it from falling off. The handles that I shoved my arms through were much smaller than the straps of a back pack. Short of dislocating both shoulders, there was no quick way of getting this bag off my back.

  So suck on that.

  Anyway, back to the curb.

  I was trying to visualize the process of stepping onto the curb, but every time I ran the scenario in my head, the weight of the bag pulled me back down off the curb and onto my back. Then, I would swing my arms and legs wildly like a turtle on his shell until the business man came in for the kill.

  I didn't have time. I would have to just go for it. I stepped up onto the curb, and my legs did everything in their power to keep from shutting down. My entire body shook, but when I looked ahead I could see my front door. My goal was within reach. I was just about to pull my second leg up, when my progress suddenly stopped.

  The business man had snagged the bag with one of his gnarled rotten fingers. I couldn't move forward. I couldn't get my other leg up onto the curb. This was it. This was how I would meet my end. Eaten by a fucking zombie just feet from my house. How long would it take to turn? Would I wander the neighborhood looking for people to eat? I would like to think IF I was to become a zombie, I would eat a lot of people. I mean, I want to kill and eat everyone. Call me competitive. If I am forced to walk this earth as an undead killing and eating machine, I want to be the best undead killing and eating machine I can be.

  Then, as I was envisioning who I might eat first, I heard a familiar squeaking behind me. The squeaking got louder and came at a much faster rate. Then, I could feel the business man release his grip on the bag, and suddenly I shot forward about five feet. The dog was jumping straight up and down in front of the zombie, squeaking his T-rex with each leap. The zombie watched in wide eyed amazement at the springy dog. His jaw went slack, and his eyes grew wide as the dog repeatedly jumped and squeaked over and over. The business man had an expression on his face like he was watching magic for the first time. Like he couldn't quite make out what he was seeing. Then, whatever the magic that distracted his urge to eat temporarily vanished. He reached down and grabbed the dinosaur from the dog’s mouth. The small dog jumped up and used the zombie's knee as a springboard to an even higher altitude. He grabbed the dinosaur in an attempt to take back his toy, but the zombie wasn't ready to let go. However, the unexpected weight of the dog pulled the business man forward, and he tripped on the curb. His grip on the dinosaur loosened, and the dog managed to escape with his squeaky toy. We made it to the door just as the business man made his way back to his feet. When I got inside, I closed the door and the bag slowly peeled off my back and crashed to the floor with a tremendous thud. I suddenly felt as light as a feather. Like I was walking on the moon. Then, my muscles seized up, and I dropped to my knees. I waited there for a long moment for the cramping and twitching to pass. Once it did, the relief was heavenly. I lowered my face to the cool tile and took a few deep breaths in. I just needed to close my eyes for a few minutes.

  While my eyes were closed, I remembered bein
g a child on the beach. I remembered laying in the sand on one particular morning. The sun hadn't been up long enough to bake the sand, so it was still cool from the night before. My mother and father walked hand in hand along the shore, and they both looked happy. My mom waved for me to come down to the waters edge with them, and I would eventually, but for now, the soft cool sand was too nice to leave. I closed my eyes to make sure I could lock this memory into place forever. When I opened my eyes, I was on my living room floor with a green slobber coated dinosaur staring right into my face. The dog sat on the opposite side of the room watching me silently.

  I stood up and walked into the kitchen. I needed some water, badly. I opened the pantry, grabbed a bottle of water, and ripped the cap off. I was never a big water drinker before all of this. I always opted for something with flavor. But as I chugged down that bottle, I couldn't think of a more refreshing drink that I had ever had before. Why couldn't water taste that good to me all the time?

  I finished off the bottle and turned to throw it away. As I turned, I saw the dog quickly disappear around the corner. Was he avoiding me? Why did he run out of the room in such a hurry? I took one step towards the trashcan and heard a squeak from under my foot. I looked down to see the green dinosaur sticking out from under my shoe. In the doorway, I saw half of the tiny pup’s face appear as he watched me.

  "Come get your stupid T-rex." I told him.

  He didn't move.

  "Come get your toy."

  With his head lowered, he slowly made his way back over to me and picked the toy up in his mouth. Then, he took a half a step back and placed it back down to the ground by my feet. I looked at the toy and then to him. He rolled onto his back exposing his belly to me. His eyes pleaded for affection, and he was practically screaming, "RUB MY BELLY!!"

  I looked down at him, and then at his offering. I realized that this small dog found a toy that he loves, fought for his life to get it to safety, and then gave it to me as a gift. All he's asking in return is a simple scratch on the belly.

  "Fuck that." I said as I walked out of the room.

  Chapter 7

  It was getting a bit colder outside, and the inside of the house began to have that slightly Arctic feeling. My head was throbbing, my muscles were aching, and the business man was still parading around my front lawn. To top it all off, that fucking dog kept following me around the house with his damn toy. He stopped bringing it directly to me. He would place it down on the ground in the doorway of whatever room I would happen to be in. For some reason, he also began to keep his distance from me. He wouldn’t avoid me altogether, he would just lay down and watch me, waiting for me to accept his stupid toy.

  My legs felt torn. The weight of the gun bag on my middle aged body left me feeling like I was run over by a truck. I thought my workout regimen would have prepared me a little better for strenuous activities. I just wanted to close my eyes and sleep. I laid down on the couch and closed my eyes. I began to travel down the dark tunnel of unconsciousness when I heard the faint sound of the dogs nail’s on my wood floor. I opened my eyes quickly, looked to where the sound came from, and saw only the T-rex sitting by itself in the entryway to my living room. I closed my eyes again, and once again, I could hear the faint sound of the dogs nail’s on the wood. This time, they were a little closer, and I was sure the dog was right next to me. I opened my eyes and turned my head, only to find the dinosaur had halved the distance towards me, and the dog was nowhere to be seen. The dog was obviously still in stealth mode. It was actually a bit unnerving how good he was at hiding. Ninjas should be jealous. Once again, my eyes closed, and I expected to hear the ticky tack of the dog’s nails on the floor, only this time, there was no sound. Maybe he gave up on his game. Maybe he realized I am not the dog person he wants me to be. After a few more moments of silence, I began to imagine the dog on its belly slowly and silently crawling towards me. I know it’s a ridiculous thought, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wanted to catch the dog in the act of sneaking around, so he would know that I was the boss, and he couldn’t sneak around without me knowing about it. I waited until I felt it in my gut, and then I bolted upright and flung my finger in an accusatory way while shouting out a triumphant “Aha!!” There I was, pointing at nothing on the ground and screaming an exclamation to a room with nobody but myself. The dog was not there. Furthermore, the dinosaur vanished too. Did that mean he reneged on his offer?

  Whatever. I thought as I laid my head back down. When my head touched the pillow, I found it distinctly more furry than it was just seconds ago. Also, The pillow seemed to have grown a tail and decided to whip me in the face repeatedly with it.

  “Mother fucker!” I said as I lifted my head to allow the dog room to squirm out. He bounded onto the back of the couch and sprung off of the cushion to land on my chest. He dropped the moistened dinosaur onto my neck, and I could feel warm dog slime dripping onto me. I took the proffered toy if only to end this idiotic game.

  “Okay. I got it. Thank you,” I said with annoyance dominating my voice. He didn’t move from off of my chest, so I thanked him again, this time trying to add a modicum of thankfulness to the sound of the words. “Thank you…Can you go now?” He pushed his ass down into a sitting position and stared at me.

  “What do you want?” Now, I know he wasn’t about to burst out in English and tell me his exact needs and desires, but I was annoyed with him just staring at me. I wanted to just throw him across the room, but I’ve learned that that doesn’t deter him. That, and I just didn't have the energy or strength to throw him off of me. I just let him sit and stare. I was delirious.

  "Hey, you little furry fucker...." I shot out through clenched teeth. "What do you want?" He cocked his head to one side like I had just asked him a difficult math problem.

  "You want food?"

  No response.

  "You gotta poo?"

  Again, no response.

  "You want to hear a story?"

  Then, he cocked his head to the other side as though I switched from a math question to chemistry.

  "I'll take that as a 'yes,’” I said.

  And then I told him a story that I've only told twice before. Once to the police officer on the scene, and ten years later to a shrink that I ended up fucking three months after that.

  The dog didn't seem as honored as he should have been to be in with such spectacular company.

  I grew up in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. It's important to specify the beach area because the people were of a different ilk. If you walked around Jacksonville, Florida BEFORE the zombies took over, you would be shocked by the inbred mouth breathers you'd come across.

  Once, when I was seventeen, I was looking in a store window at a jacket I was thinking about purchasing. A thin greasy man in a wife beater and trucker hat who smelled like sweat and meth called out from his ’86 Mustang, "Faggot!" Then in a laughable attempt to scare me, he flashed a switchblade, and swung it through the air as though he was cutting me from fifteen feet away. Not very cosmopolitan for the "Largest city in the United States."

  You're right. I thought. Looking at a vintage bomber jacket in a store front was a clear sign that I was a 'faggot.'

  He peeled away leaving a foul burning rubber smell that was miles nicer than his natural odor. At the end of the road, I saw his car pull into the parking lot of one of those tiny dive bars where bikers drink, and raging homophobes go to feel tough.

  So, I did what I do.

  I called 911 and in my best panicked voice, I described the car and the driver, and said that the man driving the car pulled a knife on me and tried to rob me. When I told him I didn't have any money, he grabbed my crotch through my jeans and tried to kiss my neck. I told them he pushed me to the ground and threw himself on top of me. I was afraid for my life, but I managed to get away.