Dark: A Horror Anthology

by Steve Wands

  “No, no, of course not. These guys are pros. In and out. They drop it off. You’re outta here.” Against better judgment, I almost believe him. I should just refuse. Better yet, Quit!

  “What time should I expect them?” Ugh. How about, ‘why don’t you wait for you’re f’n shipment?!’

  “A little after 11PM.” Damn it!

  “I can’t believe this! Lisa’s going to strangle me!” No, seriously.

  “Relax, I’ll buy you both a nice dinner tomorrow night. Alright?” Yeah. Happy birthday to me.

  Lisa soon arrives to her disappointment. She’s dealt with a lot of bullshit from me, and I feel bad, but this is who I am. She lays it on me real good. I deserve it.

  “You can’t keep saying yes to him, Vinny! He’s a horrible person who doesn’t care about you or anyone! You don’t owe him anything! This is killing you! Us even…” And that hurts most of all, but I kind of expected it. I do my best to try to make it right.

  “I’m sorry, Li, really. Look, he said he’ll buy us a nice dinner tomorrow night. Alright?” Ugh. Now I’m quoting the guy; real classy, Vin.

  “It’s not alright. Have a happy birthday, Vincent” Ouch. Vincent. And just like that she’s gone. I don’t blame her. What have I done to keep her here anyway? The bell rings, though, and my heart jumps up to my mouth. Well, I guess I’ve done enough to keep her coming back.

  Or not…

  “You Vincent?” Oh fuck, the delivery is here, early. Good, but bad because I’m just not ready for these guys yet.

  “Uh…yeah…delivery right?” I say to this enormous man mountain. The tracksuit says mob, but something about his face doesn’t scream it.

  “S’right. You wanna come out an’ gimme a hand?” Of course I do, there’s no way I’d say no to you, big man. Holy crap he’s huge! We head outside to an old 80’s Lincoln, dirty grey, an ugly boat of a car with plenty of trunk space. Not good.

  Another man gets out of the Lincoln. Small and scrawny looking, walking like he’s got a stick up his ass. His little mustache makes him feel bigger than he is; yes, I can sense that…

  “Hey, Fucko, hope you got lotsa paper towels in there. This shit’s a mess.” See?

  The trunk opens and it’s beyond a mess. Mess is my kitchen sink after a week. There’s blood and flesh wads everywhere. I love blood and gore in the movies as much as the next guy, but this is out of control for real. It just looks like a butcher’s table in there. I’m too shocked to be grossed out, and with Emilio, the little one, barking and cursing we just get to it.

  Me and the big guy, Angelo, do all the dirty work. The two bodies are wrapped in soaked through cloths, and not very well. I’m nervous as hell that someone will see us since we’re going in through the only way in or out, the front door…

  See, Cotton Glass is a small, old time parlor, and when this whole block was built, they failed to build an outlet to it. The tiny backyards of the attached storefronts just lead to the backs of the next block’s storefronts. There’s no real way out of any of these places except the front door. The fire department once tried to shut down every business here, but this whole area is owned by the mob, so that’s that. Luckily, all seems dead out, pun intended.

  Me and Angelo bring in the first body, and head for the stairs that goes down to our cooler. Halfway down, the body’s guts spill out onto the stairs, and the big man slips and drops onto his ass. I laugh for a second, before I realize he’s let go of the body and as I grab hold of it tight, indescribable gore splashes onto my face. I hurl right there on the stairs and body. Angelo starts laughing, and after a second, I join him in the ridiculousness of the situation.

  We get the second body down with less fanfare. I’m sweating, and pissed that Emilio just smoked a cigar and talked on his cell the whole time. When we’re done he tosses his phone into the Lincoln, and leads me back into Cotton Glass. I get the urge the shove my foot up his ass, but resist. I think Angelo can tell. He smiles. We’re getting engaged after the job; after all, it looks like I’m on the market again.

  “You did good, kid. Jimmy told us as much; good to see the Finoch was right for once. So, listen, we’re gonna need you to hold the merchandise for just a coupla hours. We’ve arranged a final resting place, and we just need to make sure everythins’ in order. Ya got it?” No, no, NO!

  “Are you saying you want me to stay here till you get back, cause Jimmy didn’t…”

  “Jimmy’s a moron, fuck that guy.” You’re no better, that’s for sure.

  “That’s the job, kid. You baby sit for a coupla hours, you get something’ extra, sound good?” My birthday’s ruined already, why not…

  WHY NOT?!

  And just like that, they’re gone, too. There’s a lot of strange symmetry to this night, but I try not to think about it. I mean, what good would that do? All I do think of is how I’m glad Lisa left. I don’t know how I would explain this. I go back inside, and begin to clean up the mess, which might take me right to the point where Heckel and Jeckel return.

  I start by mopping the stairs, as it’s the quickest way to some sort of normalcy. The carpet in the lobby is more worrisome. Jimmy’s going to murder me, but that might be a far better fate than whatever I might expect if I get caught in all of this. I stop thinking about it, and just lose myself in my work. I’m in some sort of crazy zone brought upon by ridiculous panic. It makes the mopping goes quick. It’s absolutely shining within a half hour, and I’m proud of myself. I turn my attention to the carpet. I get out the cleaning fluid and wet-vac when the bell snaps me out of it, and into a real panic.

  They can’t be back this early, can they?

  I grab one of Jimmy’s spare sport coats that he keeps on the rack in the lobby and toss it on to hide the fact that I’m covered in blood. Hopefully it really is them, because this jacket isn’t much of a cover. Getting these bodies out of here early would be nice. I may just hit McKee’s for the rest of the night and drown myself in some birthday whiskey. The idea brings a smile to my face.

  It’s not them, though. I don’t know who these folks are. I open the door for a bald, muscular looking, well groomed, man in a suit who wears his sunglasses at night, and a little, and I mean real little, veiled old lady in black. Could they be very late comers to tonight’s wake? I don’t know, but I get the instant chills when the lady starts speaking…

  “Voglio vidiri e’ figli mia,” Sicilian. I know it well being half myself. She wants to see her boys. This can’t be good, but before I can even contemplate, the man follows up.

  “The Lady wants to see her sons. You will make this happen.”

  “I’m sorry, but the only viewing right now is for a Mrs. Margaret Fesko. You must have the wrong place.” At least that’s what I hope. The two bodies I’m cleaning up after were both males…

  The man easily pushes me aside as he lets the old woman in. I can’t even talk, and don’t know what I’d even say at this point. Luckily, the man does all the talking. I’m more than happy to just listen and get this night over with. The request is simple enough, too. Take the lady downstairs to see the bodies. Not much more is said, but from what I gather these dudes were her sons. I’m curious, but I know when to keep my mouth shut. I lead them downstairs, but the man asks for some privacy. Sure. I spot the old lady pulling out some Rosary beads as I sit on my newly mopped stairs. I begin counting the minutes down while admiring the shine coming off the metal edges of the steps.

  To my surprise, they’re done quick; couldn’t have been more than six or seven minutes, tops. I take them back up the stairs, where the man gives me a generous tip and thanks me for my accommodating nature. They quietly leave. That was strange, but easy enough, and for some reason I actually feel good about it, too.

  I wet-vac the carpet, and finally get myself cleaned up. I’m tired, and Angelo and Emilio seem to be running late. I’m on Jimmy’s cushy couch for about 2 minutes, with my eyes starting to close, when a honking horn almost knocks me to the floor. It’s 2am, who t
he fuck honks like that?!

  The answer both surprises me and doesn’t all at the same time. I open the door to see three of my buddies, all of whom seem rather drunk.

  “Heh, hey! Look, what the cat dragged out!” says Matt, my sometimes-best friend. Sometimes because he often does stupid shit at the wrong times, like screaming and honking at 2am! The other two, John and Tim, back-up Matt with their own relentless hollering. Don’t get me wrong, I love these guys, but tonight is a bit different. Tonight I’m severely not in the mood.

  It almost doesn’t matter though as the biggest surprise waits till I get outside.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HONEY!” And just like that Lisa has brightened my miserable night, and salvaged my last glimmer of faith in people. She’s holding a cake, red velvet (my favorite), with lit candles that are just lighting up her face perfectly. A genuine smile breaks out on my face.

  We all go inside and enjoy it with the wine that John gave me as a gift washing it down nicely. Jimmy’s office subs for any local bar we may’ve hit tonight. As long as I have my girl, and few good friends I feel completely comfortable right here. It’s all going smoothly until Matt says something terribly, ridiculously, horribly wrong…

  “So I heard the stiff’s a hottie…mind if I have a peak?” See? Sometimes-Best Friend! Sometimes!

  “Dude, what the fuck?” Is all I can get out before he runs off, tongue flapping to the side like a kid at a carnival or a friggin’ maniac. I chase him downstairs and tackle him tight end style! We wrestle around violently for a bit as John and Matt cheer us on. I hadn’t had this much fun in awhile, so of course…

  “The fuck is this?!” I must’ve left the door unlocked, and Emilio and Angelo are back. Emilio has his gun out, not pointing it at anyone, but more of a show of his unhappiness. Angelo is chowing down on what looks like some sort of chicken cutlet sandwich; looks good actually.

  “Uh…hi, guys, these are my friends.” Is all I can blurt out as I get to my feet. Anything good about the last 35 minutes or so has gone out the window. Worse off, I’ve gotten my pals involved. I’m hoping Lisa hears this and stays upstairs; maybe calls the cops, although who knows if that’s even a good idea. Right and wrong are sorta blurry at this moment.

  “I don’t give a rat‘s ass! Are you outta you’re fuckin’ gourd? We got business to attend to, and this is how you fuckin‘ treat it?! I oughta plug you all right now, and get it the frig over with!”

  Matt tries to intercede, “Hey…hey, I’m sure there’s some sort of misunderstanding here. Right, Vin?” but Angelo’s imposing figure bumps Matt back and shuts him up. Some of the sandwich falls apart and lands on the big man’s shirt. This whole scene almost amuses me…I’ll laugh later.

  I’d imagine the guys are shitting their pants right now, I can’t even face them. I should’ve said something, protected them, something. I got too wrapped up in the moment. What they did for me tonight…this is how you repay them, huh, Vin?

  “Alla you, downstairs, now!” Emilio isn’t happy. I try to get something out, anything to ease this, but before I know it I’m on the floor and my cheek is stinging badly. Everything is spinning, and as I try to get my bearings, I just yak all over the freshly cleaned carpet. John and Matt get me up to my feet as Emilio yells something that’s incomprehensible at the moment.

  As we go downstairs, I replay what just happened, and I believe little Emilio gave me one giant pistol whip across my face. I feel somewhat embarrassed. I’m also pissed that I have to wet-vac the damn carpet again!

  Down in the cooler, Angelo, sandwich finally finished, mayo globbed onto his shirt, pushes us towards the back end of the room. My mind is swirling at this point, trying to figure a way out of this. Maybe they’ll just let us go, but I just look at the two dead guys under the sheets and it tells me that’s unlikely. My eyes deceive me, though, as I could’ve sworn that I saw some sort of movement under there. I dismiss it as an optical illusion brought on by the pistol whipping.

  “You put us in a real stupid position, Vincent. This coulda went down simple, now it’s gonna be anything’ but that. Understan’? I gotta think, but while I do that, I want you mooks to grab these stiffs and take ‘em to the car. Let’s go, move!”

  We don’t hesitate to do what Emilio says. Matt and I grab the one closest to us, I mouth “I’m sorry” to him, but he refuses to give me any sort of response. John and Tim try to grab hold of the other one, but they’re having a difficult time. The body drops to the floor with a disgusting wet thud that splatters blood in every direction. Tim is clearly freaked out.

  “Whoa…dudes, I think this one’s still alive! Totally moved on me!” Huh, that wasn’t the body that I thought saw move. If this isn’t an optical illusion, then what the heck…?

  Just as I think that, Matt howls in pain behind me. I turn to face him, and the sight makes me drop my end, the feet, down to the ground. The head is biting Matt’s arm through the linens it’s wrapped in! I clearly see teeth ripping into Matt’s flesh!

  Everyone’s frozen but me. I jump up and kick down onto the head. Holy crap…the force rips a piece of Matt’s forearm muscle right off! No time to contemplate though as I stomp the head down into the ground with a sick crunch. Now everyone’s stirring.

  John and Tim grab hold of Matt, who looks like he’s going to pass out from the pain. Angelo and Emilio push past me and start firing down at the body. The noise from the discharges within the insulated cooler are deafening; the rest of us all cup our ears as tight as possible.

  They stop and we all gather around the smoking body, a huge moat of blood forming around it. We all give each other confused/worried looks. Matt is holding his arm close to his body; his shirt pulled up around it and already soaked in blood. He looks sweaty and pale, but before I get ask him anything there’s a tree chopping sound and blood and flesh and track suit flies past Emilio, and smacks into me and John!

  Angelo looks down at his chest where a hand is holding out his still beating heart! The hand retracts, and Angelo’s eyes roll up into his head. He drops like a building collapse, and in his place is the other body, clearly dead, but yet still standing there. Clear because he’s wearing a tattered suit filled with bullet holes, but more obvious because half his head is gone!

  “YOU FUCK!!!” And with that Emilio unloads the rest of his gun. The body goes flying over the table it was laying on, and hits the floor on the other side. Cursing, he reloads the gun, and begins to walk over towards the body. I motion for Tim to help me with Matt, but Emilio turns and stops us.

  “Where the fuck you think you’re going!?” The question is almost as unbelievable as this situation. The dead guy that bit Matt starts to get up though, stopping Emilio from caring. He almost barrels us over as he jets up the stairs before us!

  With our cover gone, I pass Matt over to John, and urge him and Tim to get our injured and faint friend upstairs. I then run towards the half-headed dead goomba, I assume these guys were also mafia, and give him the worst looking one legged drop kick ever attempted! It works, though, as the body goes crashing back into the wall and falls forward, tripping in its wrappings, and falling flat on his face.

  The other dead goomba, the one that Emilio shot to shit, is getting back up. I haveta get up those stairs now! Easier said, though, as I slip in Angelo’s blood and crash down hard on my back. I can’t move. My back feels like it’s given out on me. This happens often, but what a horrid time! The dead man has lumbered over and stands over me, it doesn’t look happy. I start thinking of Lisa, when I see a bat smashing the zombie, I believe I can fairly call them that now, in the face the force caving its nose in, and sending it over a moving cabinet of mortician’s equipment! The cabinet goes down with the zombie emptying a variety of sharp objects onto it.

  My savior is the girl I was thinking of. Lisa drops the bat, and grabs hold of me.

  “Is this the right time for a knap, hun?” Can you see why I love this girl?

  She helps me up, turns me around, wra
ps her arms around me, and cracks my back as she always does. No wasted motions with her. No questions about what the heck is happening neither. Still shaky, I put my arm over her shoulder and get out of there. She mentions something about a problem upstairs, but I only half pay attention.

  Once we get upstairs, I easily see what she’s talking about, although I’m not as quick to understand. Emilio has a chair in hand, and the front glass door has been broken. Upon seeing me, Emilio tosses the chair down, and grabs me by the collar and pulls me to the door. He’s in a bewildered state, and I can see why…

  There’s a fucking brick wall where the front exit used to be!

  “What the fuck…”…doesn’t even begin to convey what I’m thinking.

  I’m entranced by the sudden wall, but a quick, hard backhand by a livid Emilio snaps me back.

  “What the fuck is right!!! I’m gonna kill all you little fucks for what you did to Angelo!” but in that instant, an enraged Lisa jumps on Emilio‘s back! Both fall to the floor, and the gun glides away and under a China closet! John and I help pin the weasely, squirming mobster down, while Tim goes for the gun.

  “You prick! This isn’t our fault, and right now we all have to figure out how to get out of this shit together!” I scream out to the foaming-at-the-mouth little fuck. I feel like there’s some sort of reluctant recognition of what I’m saying in his eyes.

  “Plus we got your gun, dude!” Tim adds in as he stands with the gun in hand.

  To our horror, it’s the last thing Tim will ever say. The zombies have made it upstairs. Halfa-Head chomps down hard on Tim’s neck, and violently rips his head right off!

  Everyone screams, panic floods me, one of my best friends is dead…I grab hold of Lisa’s hand and make a dash for the stairs to Jimmy’s office. I catch Emilio running off into one of the chapels. John, closest of us to Tim, grabs the gun off the floor. He’s dangerously close to the zombies, who seem slow to move till they come near you, then it seems like their reflexes accelerate, but he manages to fire a couple of rounds into the zombie with the protruding instruments. I see that one goes down, and I yell for John to follow us, but he’s not listening; a bloodlust has surely come over him.