by Brian Rowe
“That’s disgusting,” Brin said.
“It’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ash said with a nonchalant shrug.
“Where’s Anaya?” Brin looked back toward the parking lot. She couldn’t see the big girl anywhere in sight.
“Who cares? Is she like your friend now or something?”
“I don’t know. But I think—”
Before Brin could finish her sentence, Anaya appeared to the left of the stage, and started running toward the two of them. “Oh my God! Are you guys all right?”
“Yeah,” Brin said. “I got stomped on, but I’ll survive.”
“Can you believe what just happened? Lavender… turning into one of them?”
“I know.”
“Does that mean she’s gonna die?”
Brin sighed, loudly. “I think she’s already dead.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Come on,” Ash said, the only one of the trio who seemed concerned with stepping as far away from the funeral premises as possible.
As they marched toward the other side of the cemetery, Anaya was noticeably fighting away tears. “I just wanted to make a good movie, that’s all I wanted to do. Now everyone around us is dying.”
“Shhh,” Brin said. “It wasn’t your fault. What’s done is done.”
“I just feel so horrible. We started with six. There’s only three of us left. And Dylan could be going to jail for all we know. Brin, you and I could be the last ones—”
“Hey!” Ash said. “I was there, too!”
“Oh God,” Brin said, ignoring Ash’s outburst. “Look.”
She pointed toward the parking lot, where fifty cars, at least, were bottled up together, all with frantic passengers trying to escape the area. Approaching the scene were six cop cars, three ambulances, and even a fire truck.
“This is madness,” Brin said.
“When will it ever end?” Ash said.
“I don’t know.”
“And you have one of those things living at your house!” Anaya shouted. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“Hey!” Brin said, stepping away from Anaya as they continued marching across the empty cemetery. “Paul is not just one of those things! He’s different!”
“He’s gonna kill you, Brin. When you least expect it. You have to get rid of him.”
“I would never. He’s kind. He’s… gentle.”
“How do you know he won’t snap? Just like Lavender?”
“He won’t.”
“He’s not human,” Anaya said. “You can’t trust him. You can’t let him live with you, and you can’t let him exist anywhere in this town!”
“That’s not your decision to make, Anaya.”
“His being here in Grisly… it could bring others back. He could bring that clan leader back, that scary dude with the top hat.”
“Droz,” Brin said.
“Whatever. I don’t know about you, Brin, but I’m not ready to die.”
Another scream could be heard from the parking lot, as if Lavender had taken one last bite of human flesh before being whisked away to the nearest insane asylum.
“Let’s keep moving,” Ash said. “You guys are slow pokes.”
“I’m fat,” Anaya said. “And I’m under a lot of stress. Give me a break!”
“Where exactly are you taking us, Ash?” Brin said. “Do you have a plan? What about my car?”
Ash pulled out in front of them and started walking faster, borderline jogging. “I don’t have a plan.”
“Then what are we doing?”
They walked to the top of a large hill, and looked to the bottom. A small group of people stood in the distance.
“Oh my God,” Brin said. “Is that what I think it is?”
“I thought it was happening at the same time,” Ash said. “That’s why I wanted to bring you guys over here. I wanted to see.”
“What is it?” Anaya said, out of breath, her forehead sweating profusely.
Brin sighed and planted her hands against her hips. “It’s another funeral. It’s the funeral for Sawyer.”
Chapter Twenty
Brin felt like she had stepped not just into a different cemetery, but a different city. After witnessing the madness at Chace’s funeral, both before and during, she was astonished to see a funeral as simple and chaos-free as this one. The number of attendees must have been capped at thirty, and Brin could only recognize one face: Colin Cleaver.
“Hey,” Brin said, nudging Colin’s elbow. A pastor stood next to the casket, the Bible in his hands, and he had his eyes fixated on the ground as he talked about Sawyer’s new place in Heaven.
“Oh, hi,” Colin whispered. “What are you doing here?”
Ash and Anaya approached the scene, stopping in the back of the group like Brin, so that nobody would notice their uninvited presence.
“Is this for Sawyer?” Ash said.
Colin nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t really know Chace or Sawyer, but I figured I should pay my respects to at least one of them this morning.”
“I see,” Brin said. “How long has this been going?”
“Twenty minutes or so. Did you come from Chace’s funeral?”
The trio nodded.
“How was it?”
The trio shook their heads.
“Was it crowded?”
The trio nodded.
“Did it end well?”
The trio shook their heads.
“Probably best I didn’t go then. I don’t know, I might be in the minority, but I think Sawyer deserved—”
“Shhh!” a little girl said, turning toward Colin. She had tears in her eyes.
“Sorry,” Colin said, grinning his teeth like he was in need of the girl’s approval. He turned to Brin and whispered in her ear, “we’ll talk when this is over.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Just like at Chace’s funeral, before Lavender leapt onto the stage to enjoy her lunch of old, seasoned meat, the mother spoke, then her husband, then the grandmother. This grandma, however, made it through her short speech with all her skin in tact.
“And now, we lay Sawyer’s body to rest,” the pastor said, and the coffin started lowering.
Brin could hear sniffles coming from both sides of her. She turned to her left to see Colin’s face turning red, like he was fighting a bad case of poison oak. Then she turned to her right to see Ash and Anaya both tearing up, Anaya especially sad, with a tear rolling down the side of her cheek. Brin turned back toward the funeral proceedings. The casket had disappeared beneath the ground.
She wanted to cry for Sawyer. He was a fellow student, and a member of their film shoot. But she didn’t know a thing about him. She’d always struggled with showing emotion around others, anyway—she barely cried at her own father’s funeral—so she knew she wouldn’t be able to rattle up any tear drops for the dearly departed Sawyer Neville.
Brin took a step back and looked up at the sky; there wasn’t a cloud in sight. She turned to her left to see a large black fence, one that separated the cemetery from the brand new green oasis opening in May. Grisly had been hurting for a new golf course for years, and Macabre was greatly anticipated by all in the region—the only one nearby was a funky municipal nine-hole on the outskirts of Carson City.
“It’s going to be amazing,” she whispered.
“What?” Colin said, turning around. Brin turned to him. People were rising from their chairs and dispersing. Sawyer’s funeral had reached its end.
“Nothing,” Brin said. “I was just looking at the new golf course. I can’t wait to play it this summer.”
“Oh yeah? You play for the golf team, right?”
“I used to,” Brin said, under her breath.
“The course is beautiful,” Colin said. “It’s easily the nicest I’ve played in northern Nevada.”
Brin crossed her arms and glanced at the course again. All she could see was part of the driving range. She stood up on her
tippie-toes to try to see one of the holes, but she couldn’t see far enough. She felt like she was arriving at Disneyland for the first time, trying to catch a glimpse of Space Mountain over the tall park gates.
“Well, how would you know? Nobody’s played it yet.”
“I have,” Colin said. “Twice.”
“You’ve what?” Brin stared at him, stupefied. “But it’s winter. It doesn’t open until May.”
“My dad’s the co-owner,” he said.
Ash and Anaya had been chatting about something else close by—George Romero movies, Brin supposed—but they immediately entered the conversation after Colin’s remark.
“Wait,” Ash said. “Did you say, your dad’s co-owner of Macabre?”
“Yep. He’s already let me play it. It’s not all the way done yet, and the grass doesn’t look too great, but it’ll be in perfect shape once summer arrives.”
“Can you get us discount tickets or something?” Ash said.
Colin smiled. “I can do better than that. We’re having a small tournament tomorrow. We need some extra players. Right now there’s only eight of us, and we were hoping for twelve.”
Brin thought she might pee in her pants, she was so excited. She put her hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Say again?”
“I’m asking if you guys want to play tomorrow. In a tournament.”
“At Macabre?”
“At Macabre. Yes. We could all use a little break, you know? With everything that’s happened these past couple weeks.”
“Oh my God,” Brin said. She looked ready to plant a big, wet kiss on the handsome Colin, but Ash put his hand out in an attempt to stop her. She brushed past Ash and took hold of Colin’s hand. “I’m in so much need of an escape, it’s not even funny. And I’ve been dying to check out Macabre!”
“Brin,” Ash said.
“What?”
“Don’t use the word ‘dying’ in a cemetery. It’s bad luck.”
“Whatever. You just said it, too, doofus. So now we’ll both have to work extra hard in the game tomorrow to win the trophy.” Brin turned to Colin, who had a cheesy smile on his face. “There is a trophy, isn’t there?”
“Uhh, no,” he said. “But I can make one for you if you’d like.”
“That’s OK.” She turned to Ash and jumped up high off the ground. “We get to play Macabre! I’m so excited!”
“I’m hoping I haven’t lost my swing,” Ash said with a frown.
“I’ve been practicing every week,” Anaya said, finally pitching into the conversation.
“Every week?” Brin said. She forgot Anaya even played golf. “But you’ve never made the team.”
“Well, it’s hard to score well, and strike the ball properly, when you’re as big as I am. But I’ve lost a few pounds, I have a handle on my swing, and I’m ready to annihilate any player who stands in my way.” She approached Brin and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care how bloody it has to get, but you are going down tomorrow, Brin Skar.”
“This isn’t hockey, Anaya,” Brin said, shocked at Anaya’s playful but vindictive threat. “We’re not going to be slugging it out on a golf course.”
“I meant figuratively, numbskull,” she said. “I’m gonna sweep the fairway clean with all of you. Get ready.”
She smiled real big, then started walking back toward the hill, toward the parking lot.
Brin shook her head. “Well, I guess the old Anaya is back.”
“How well do you shoot, Brin?” Colin said.
She shrugged. “On a good day, maybe 80. I mean, a really good day. I’ll be surprised if I can break 100 tomorrow, though. It’s been months since I’ve swung a club.”
“I usually shoot around 75,” Colin said. “My best score is a 66.”
Ash made a face. “Well aren’t you special.”
He started walking in Anaya’s direction. Brin took a step forward. “Hey! Ash! Where are you going?”
“Home!” he shouted.
“But I drove you here!”
“I know you did. Hurry up!”
Brin turned back to Colin. She hadn’t realized until now just how attractive Colin Cleaver was. His cheekbones were lofty and well defined, and the little crease between his eyebrows made him appear to be always deep in thought.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what got into him. He can act like such a little girl sometimes.”
“I know what you mean,” Colin said. “You’ve all had a rough few days. I mean… you guys were there. With Chace and Sawyer. I can’t imagine what you guys must be going through.”
“Yeah. One day at a time, I guess. Today’s been hard, but tomorrow will be better. We’ll finally get a break… a break from all this. A four-hour break if we play fast, and a six-hour break if we play really slow.”
“It shouldn’t be that long,” Colin said with a chuckle. “But it’ll be fun. I’m glad you guys are coming.”
“Me too.” They smiled at each other. Brin finally turned away. “So… umm… for tomorrow. You said you needed three of us, right?”
He shook his head. “No. Four, actually.”
“Oh.” She turned back toward the hill. Ash was standing at the top of it, raising his hands angrily in the air like he wanted Brin to start running toward him. “Well, let’s see. Ash and Anaya and me make three. Umm… my mom doesn’t play golf.”
“You don’t know of anyone else?”
“No, I—” She thought for a moment. Well, maybe. “Actually… I think I might have someone.”
---
Brin entered Diablo Shadows and felt a knot grow to the size of a grapefruit in the center of her stomach. It wasn’t a nauseated sensation; it was a pit of uncontrollable fear that promised her that something awful was about to happen. She made a right turn, then pulled forward toward her house at the end of the street. She could see the cop cars waiting for her, the two detectives standing on the lawn waiting to ask her their fifty questions. She could see the pair of handcuffs, the terrified look on her mother’s face, Paul on the porch shaking his head in disbelief.
So a loud sigh of relief escaped Brin’s mouth when she pulled up to her driveway to see nothing but a dark, empty house. She stepped onto the pavement and surveyed the surrounding area. She looked for Droz, the new ugly Lavender, a member of the paparazzi trying to get a snapshot of a Bodie Ghost Town survivor. But she didn’t see anything, or anyone, unusual. Brin stepped inside.
“Hello?” She turned toward the staircase. “Mom? Are you home?”
She hadn’t seen or talked to Tessa since the scary outbreak of mass confusion at Chace’s funeral. The only communication they had exchanged were text messages, letting each other know they were OK. Her mom’s most recent text message said the following: What the hell happened to that girl? Brin hadn’t texted her back. She didn’t know what to say. Well, I saw her get bitten in Bodie, so I think she turned into a vampire, or another one of those undead creatures who prefer human flesh to pork tenderloin. No, that text wasn’t going to work.
Brin opened the door to the basement. She didn’t hear any activity coming from downstairs, not any typing, talking, nothing.
“Paul?”
“Right here,” he said from behind her.
Brin’s pit of fear shot all the way up to her throat. Brin screamed. Then she shook her head and slugged him. “Damn it, Paul! Don’t scare me like that!”
“I just said I was here,” he said, nonchalantly, swirling a spoon around a large bowl of Chex Mex. Then he held up a glass filled with a foul-smelling red liquid and took a sip.
“Is that… is that blood?” Brin said.
He shook his head. “Red wine. I found an expired bottle in the back of the pantry. It tastes tart, kind of like vinegar. Closest thing to blood I could find.”
Brin’s eyes expanded to the size of oranges. “Well that’s… disgusting. But I suppose I’m glad you’re eating something.”
“Yeah. Found something that doesn’t have any flavor. Makes
it easier to wash it down.”
“So you’re having a glass of wine with a bowl of cereal.”
“That’s correct.”
“You’re definitely different, Paul. I’ll give you that.”
He smiled and took another sip of his drink. “How was the funeral? Everything go as planned?”
Brin rolled her eyes and took a seat at the living room table. She didn’t need to say a word to get him to sit down with her. She noticed he was looking more pale than he had been in the last few days.
“It was crowded, and long.” She debated telling him what had happened. She figured he would find out eventually, either at school, or from her mom. “You know that blonde girl? Lavender?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “The one who got bitten?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Is she all right?”
“She attacked a woman on stage. Started chomping on her face.”
Paul’s mouth dropped, like he had never before in his decades as a vampire heard a detail so gruesome. “Is she a…”
Brin shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think she’s a vampire. I don’t know what she is. She might just be unstable or something. Maybe she’s gone mentally insane.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He took another bite of his cereal. Brin didn’t see him swallow. “Well, I’m sorry things got out of control. Again.”
“I’m glad you weren’t there. That’s all I have to say.”
“Did anything good come out of the funeral? Did you feel a sense of closure?”
Brin brought her hands down to the side of her chair and smiled. “I don’t know about closure. But something good happened, yes. You know that new golf course in town I was telling you about? Macabre?”
“The one near Grisly High?”
“Yeah. I bumped into Colin Cleaver, he’s in our Film class. Turns out his dad is a co-owner of the club, and there’s a top secret tournament there tomorrow. Colin invited me to play with him and his dad!”
“Really? How fun!” Paul took another sip of the expired wine. Brin couldn’t focus on the excitement she was feeling; she could only think about how foul the awful wine smelled.