Died in the bath? I wondered. Can the ‘stalkers drown?
The tip of the bat broke the surface, causing the mold to retreat as if aware of the invasion. I pushed further down, just under the water level, until I felt the soft give of whatever it was in the water. Slowly, it rose up as I drew back the bat and my breath at the same time, the former raised in a striking position and the latter with a sharp hiss. The thing was still, only partially above the surface. After a tense moment I moved in closer, searching the tub with the light. A beige bathmat floated harmlessly on the surface, unable to consider the fear it had caused me. Regardless, I whacked it with the end of the bat, splashing rancid water over the surface of the tub and onto the floor.
A second door connected the bathroom to the master bedroom. The master bedroom. The largest of the rooms. The one where someone would most likely remain if they had stayed behind after falling ill.
I opened the door, the bat leading as I entered. The room was carefully decorated with a rustic theme, with natural wood furniture and faux wood paneling. Unfortunately, there were several places to hide, although I doubted that the undead had the foresight to conceal themselves in dark corners for dramatic effect, but I’d seen enough horror movies that I couldn’t overlook under the bed or behind the dresser. I was relieved that this room, too, was empty. I left through the bedroom door that led into the hallway, closing it, too, behind me. I froze. The girl’s bedroom door was open.
I closed it… didn’t I close it? I asked myself. Is the girl still in the house?
I pressed my back against the far wall and inched along the hallway, the bat clutched in front of me like a comforting stuffed animal for a small child. I began to sweat in the otherwise cool home as I approached, peeking around the corner and down the stairs before crossing the top landing. I stopped outside of the bedroom, straining to hear any sound from within. Nothing, except the overwhelming silence. Cautiously, I peered into the bedroom, sweeping the darkness with the flashlight. Nothing moved. I crept inside- nothing in the closet, nothing behind the bed, nothing under the desk. Even the cobwebs were undisturbed. Again, I closed the door, making sure it sunk into place.
“Please, stay closed,” I mumbled, wondering if I were sincerely hoping that the door would listen to reason.
The other doors had remained closed, as they should. One floor done. I looked over the banister then slowly started down the stairs, looking for anything out of place in each slice of the floor that came into view. From the first landing, I could see the living room, dining room and a kitchen, each decorated in the same clinical motif that characterized the rest of the home. I believed, however, that the cobwebs and rat-gnawed furniture was part of the post-human remodeling. The living area was the opposite of the preacher’s home; the large television dominated the room, with the recliners and couches arranged to encourage comfortable viewing. The dining area, too, was positioned so that each diner could watch what was showing on the massive screen. The kitchen flashed with the occasional rat, as they fought over the last of the accessible food. The smell of rodents and their droppings wafted out into the other rooms; it was suffocating in the enclosed space.
I hastily searched the rest of the home, wondering if I would find a little undead girl with a vestigial memory. I made my way through the rest of the floor. There was an alcove under the stairs that was cluttered with boxes and other articles, but nothing else. The downstairs bathroom was empty and still, as was the garage. Thankfully, this time the car was gone. I was alone in the home.
Only slightly more comfortable for having searched the home, I walked to the back door and knocked as Lisa and I had agreed.
Three knocks, then silence, the one more.
I waited a tense moment before I heard the response.
One knock, then silence, then three more. They were okay.
The door was secured by two thick boards that were nailed into the frame and were too secure to pry off with my hands alone. I returned to the garage, looking for anything that I could use to remove the boards. I imagined that I would have felt betrayed by my usual fortune if there had been a crowbar or a hammer- perhaps the family had taken such useful tools with them- but I looked through what had remained and settled on a well-worn pair of gardening shears, which hadn’t seen use in some time. I pulled it from a tangle of cobwebs and brought it back to the door.
I leaned the bat against the wall and started working on the frame. It took time, and left my hands sore, but one at a time I pried the boards loose, pulling them from the door and tossing them carelessly to the side before opening it for two grateful ladies. I scanned behind them as they came inside before closing and locking the door. None of us spoke, but we each visibly relaxed as Madi clung to my hand as if it were a precious lifeline.
“It’s safe?” Madi asked, finally.
“It’s safe,” I answered with a confidence I didn’t feel. But confidence is one thing that I hadn’t felt in some time. “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to find something for us to eat; you girls stay here and sit tight, okay?”
Lisa nodded solemnly; Madi’s eyes opened wide. “You’re going outside?” She stammered.
I kneeled to her level, feeling the dust shift beneath my knee. “Yeah, but I’ll be back real quick. You know what you can do while I’m gone, princess?”
“What?” She asked.
“You can clean this place up- you left it a mess.”
She giggled and landed a kiss on my cheek. I stood and leaned in close to Lisa, “keep your eyes open, okay?”
“Okay,” she answered, worry creeping into her voice. “Brad…” She paused. “If you find a razor, can you pick it up?” A year or so ago, that would have been a simple request; more of a penciled-in addition to a shopping list. Lisa knew anything specific was a long shot, and carried with it a certain risk.
“Sure thing,” I smiled. I meant it, too, both the smile and the promise. I grabbed the bat that I had left propped against the wall and was ready to head out when I reconsidered. “You keep this,” I told Lisa, pressing the bat handle into her hand. I didn’t want to, couldn’t even, leave them unarmed.
“You sure?” She asked.
“There’s all sorts of crap lying around. I’ll grab something.”
As I began to slip out the back door, Madi caught me by the arm. “I love you,” she said with warning in her voice. What she really meant was, be careful.
“I love you, too,” I answered. “I’ll be right back.” What I really meant was, I will. Lisa and I locked eyes for a brief moment before I closed the door and heard it latch behind me. I was alone, unarmed and terrified. Grocery shopping was much more complicated than I remembered it to be.
Aside from the horrifying apocalypse that had ripped the life from this town, Ashland must have been a beautiful place to live. Each of the bright, cheerful homes stood in ironic juxtaposition against the disrepair, overgrowth and boarded windows, and the street names conjured pleasant images of flowers and landmarks. I strained each of my senses as I passed Parkview Court. An empty baby carriage lay overturned and still on the corner at Rosebush Avenue, a small stuffed bear barely recognizable under the cloth. I reached the end of the road and turned onto Peachtree Street. The home just past the corner had been nearly completely destroyed, only the burnt skeleton of the frame standing in its place. A car remained in the driveway, but had been intentionally destroyed; all of the windows had been smashed in and glass still sparkled in the driveway, the tires dejectedly holding up the frame. The body had been brutally dented and scratched by something long-gone, and rocks still littered the concrete and hood. A single word was scratched in the paint in large jagged letters: “Guilty”. I didn’t want to know that story.
I continued through the town, making sure to walk each street and gain an overall view of the area. Before I started going into homes, I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be surprised when I came out. The precision dissonance of another home grabbed my attention. A large lum
ber panel was still partially nailed to one side of the doorframe, but had been forced violently outwards and to the right, tearing the wood and bending the remaining nails; now, it waved lazily in the slight breeze. A crowbar was barely visible in the long grass and a dark stain had discolored the walkway. It appeared that someone, much like me perhaps, had tried to get inside, finding that whatever had been inside was already waiting to get out. I hoped the person had died quickly, but I appreciated the crowbar all the same; at least now I was armed again.
Before long, I had circled and crossed the entire small town, noting and remembering the locations of drug stores and grocery chains, identifying which homes were boarded and which were not, and mentally marking the homes and businesses that I wanted to search later. Several homes had broken windows- I wondered who had been here before me. The small town had small ‘Pawn and Gun’ store; I knew without having to go inside that it would do me no good, and looking in the shattered windows confirmed it. The store was in devastated; the glass displays had been smashed, she shelves were bare- except for a small amount of useless items- and the gun racks themselves were empty.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something moving. I turned and saw a man, what was left of him, slowly and silently shambling towards where I stood. He was slow, but determined, dragging his ruined leg right behind him. I was repulsed by this pitiful creature when I noticed that his foot folded sickeningly to the side with each step, leaving his ankle bone alone to support his weight. As he got closer, his mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came. He was pitiful but determined, so I took a batters stance with the crowbar while I waited for the slow pitch to arrive. I waited, he shuffled closer. I waited, he was almost upon me. When he was just close enough, I swung the heavy metal bar and connected to the man’s skull; it sunk in to the soft skin of his temple and the bone shattered with the collision as he soared to the side, falling to the ground in a writing heap. His eyes stayed open, but the pupils were rolled upwards into the sockets as they began to fill with blood. My hands ached, but at least the creature was down.
I watched, making sure he didn’t move. I prodded him with the crowbar, he was still. The creature was, once again, dead.
I finished picking my way through town and turned onto the intersecting street from where I started. I noticed something that I hadn’t seen before; the grave of an old playground sat overgrown and lonely, the perfect monument to what the world had become and what we had lost. The equipment itself was fairly clean, although significantly rusted, and weeds had grown through the black rubber mulch to intertwine with the metal, forming a bizarre fusion of living steel. Where children once played, now empty swings swung with the breeze. A tall slide stood proud, but unused, as if watching over its metal herd.
With one last look around, I believed that Ashland was, as much as I could tell, safe.
I chose a home a few blocks away from where we were staying; the paranoia in me didn’t want to make it too obvious where we were. The home was modest- it was small enough to be easy to search, but large enough to hold hope for something of value. Most importantly, the windows and doors hadn’t been barricaded, as if the owners had intended to return. And if they had intended to return, then they were more likely to have left something useful behind.
I was growing more comfortable with being in other people’s homes, and had learned a few tricks since it all began. I circled the house, looking in each of the windows, and mentally marking which ones had drawn curtains- I’d have to be careful of those rooms once inside. The back door was locked, as I expected, and so was the front.
I knocked.
Nothing moved and there were no sounds from inside. If anyone, living or undead, were inside, I’d rather know about it before I went in. I knocked again, louder; still, nothing moved.
I had seen the master bedroom towards the rear of the house; it had large, welcoming bay windows that drew vertically and were latched with a cheap brass-colored hasp. At least I wouldn’t have to break the glass and risk injury. I jammed the crowbar’s blade between the sill and the window, and laid my weight on it until I felt the wood begin to crack, then the lock pop out of place. The window slid open easily and I climbed inside.
I looked into each of the rooms that had the curtains closed and confirmed that I was alone, and then pulled a pillow case from what appeared to be a teenage boy’s bed, or so I assumed from the barely tasteful posters taped to the wall. I wasn’t proud of the fact that I had begun to enjoy the voyeuristic thrill of searching through a stranger’s home.
I practically destroyed the interior in my careless search, but no more than I had to; this was still more of a profession than a hobby, and I had time concerns on my mind. I ransacked the drawers and dug through the contents, pulling anything that appeared to be of use, taking the batteries from the remote controls and other electronics, and bundling blankets and pillows into a separate package- these ones seemed slightly cleaner than the other home; at least less rodent-infested. The bathrooms provided some of the creature comforts; the soap would do us good if the river was clean, and Lisa would appreciate the pink razor with a sealed blade stuck in the base.
The kitchen gave less than I had hoped for, but more than I expected. There wasn’t quite enough to move on from the town, but at least we’d have dinner tonight; two bottles of water to share between us, some stale nacho chips, a jar of peanut butter and an assortment of the canned goods that you find at a food drive. The owners either didn’t want the taste or the weight, maybe thinking they’d leave it for when they returned. Fortunately, they also had a manual can opener, which I took as well. Searching through the cabinets and drawers, I chose a selection of bowls and silverware for later.
I closed the window best I could on my way out, and made the short walk back to the rear of our new safe-house. Three knocks, then one, then two- we agreed on a new signal each time, just so no one could copy it. One of the girls inside answered; two knocks, then one, then three- all was well. I heard the lock release and the door opened for me to slip inside, after which it closed again. They were happy to see me, which was a welcome feeling; almost like… family. As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that they had each changed clothes; both of them looked too small for what they now wore.
“Come look!” Madi said excitedly, and took me by the hand to lead me upstairs. Lisa followed after making sure the door was secure- priorities. “Okay, Daddy, now close your eyes,” Madi directed once we reached the door to the master bedroom. I closed them tightly, and heard the door open. Madi pulled me inside and said, “Okay, open your eyes!”
I opened my eyes, and saw that the girls had been busy, too. The bedroom had been cleaned, and was lit by a few large candles.
Lisa explained, “We went exploring around the house while you were gone. There was some cleaning junk in the garage, and we found the candles here in this room, in one of the drawers. We left the handcuffs and the lingerie alone, though.” Madi was oblivious to the significance of the pairing. “There was some bedding in the closet, clean enough to sleep on, so we made the bed up, too.” She smiled, seeing that I had brought some for the same reason that she had. “At least we have extra, better than not enough.”
“Wow,” was all I could come up with. The room looked great, almost like a real home. I struggled to come up with the words. “It looks… cozy; it’s great,” I said finally. Lisa and Madi swapped satisfied smiles, then light high-fives.
We were all exhausted from the long night, and from the painful events of the recent past. Lisa laid out the food on the sheet from my bundle, as if we were having a picnic, just without the grass, sunshine or feeling of certainty that we wouldn’t die the next day. She handed Madi one of the two bottles of water and kept the other between us. Madi must have been thirsty for some time- she drank half of her bottle right away, before starting on the food that was put in front of her. She had clearly been hungry and thirsty, yet she hadn’t complained.
We ate until the hung
er pangs were gone, enjoying our peanut butter nachos and canned pie filling. If nothing else, at least our stomachs wouldn’t grumble for a little while. The candles cast vague shadows around the room, which was somehow more menacing than the darkness, and we talked to pass the time.
That night we invented a game, something to entertain and take our minds of the horrible realities outside of these walls. But inside, I was losing, although I didn’t understand how.
“Ummm… Cupcake?” I guessed.
“No!” Madi giggled.
“Princess?” Madi shook her head, smiling.
“Snowflake?”
“Nope!” Madi said.
Lisa interrupted, “Time!”
Madi laughed, “The pony’s name will be Firefly!”
We laughed together- it felt good. The rules made no sense, and the score was completely arbitrary, which seemed about right for a game created by a young girl. But, we played it and enjoyed each other’s company, making up the rules and questions along the way, until Madi started to bob her head as she struggled heroically to stay awake.
“How about we call it a night,” I suggested. “You won anyways,” I told Madi. She smiled at the victory.
“You did pretty good, too,” Madi consoled.
Lisa helped Madi to her feet and they walked together to the bed, with me coming up behind them after snuffing all but one of the thickest candles. “There’s enough room for all three of us,” Lisa suggested and we settled in with Madi between us. It was tight, but the soft bed was a rare treat, although I imagined that there were surely spiders near the headboard that would soon find their way under the covers- it was a phobia that I hadn’t yet gotten over. We said our good-nights and then settled into our own thoughts, as always hoping that sleep came quickly.
Dahmer Flu Page 20