Annoyed, Savannah nudged Morgan’s leg. No response. She then leaned over and slapped Morgan’s face hard.
Morgan jumped awake. “What the hell’d you hit me for?”
“I think they put something in that tea.”
“Maybe he spiked it. Maybe it was moonshine.” Morgan’s words were slow and sluggish.
“No. I think it was something more than moonshine.” Savannah leaned close enough to press her lips to the cup of Morgan’s ear. “I’m getting fucking scared. There’s something weird going on here,” she whispered.
“You two makin’ out?” Johnny drawled.
He kneeled down, holding out two fresh jars of cloudy tea.
“That tow truck should be here before very long,” he told them, sitting down. The outside of his thigh pressed the outside if Savannah’s, uncomfortably close. She edged away slightly.
Savannah put her jar aside, but Morgan struggled back upright and took her glass. Savannah shot her a look—don’t drink that—but Morgan was stupid when in the company of hot guys. She brought the tea up, grinned around the glass, then took a long drink.
She leaned against Savannah, pushing her against Johnny’s hard shoulder. “You know, Monster thinks you put something in our drinks.”
Johnny laughed. “She don’t trust us country folk, huh?”
Savannah got to her feet. “Morgan …”
“It’s okay,” Johnny said, his voice practically dripping with sugar. “I did put something in your drinks. Lemon.”
Morgan giggled drunkenly and fell against Johnny’s side. He caught her and slid his arm around her shoulder, his eyes traveling up and down Savannah’s slim frame. His eyes rested on hers for a long moment and she didn’t look away, although she wanted to.
“Drink your tea, Monster,” he said, his voice growing hard.
“I don’t drink tea. Sorry.”
“Your friend seems to like hers.”
“My friend’s an idiot. I’m not.”
“We’ll see,” Johnny said. He got to his feet, pulling Savannah up by the hand. “And yeah, I added a little of my uncle’s white liquor. Y’all seemed tense. I just wanted to loosen you up while you waited on the tow.” He placed his arm around Morgan to steady her. “Obviously, Miss Morgan is a lightweight.”
“Am not!” Morgan whined.
Savannah watched this a moment, impatient with her friend and with the entire situation. “That little girl, Lacy? Is she your sister?”
“You see her?”
“She told me I look funny. Anyway, she mentioned Mikey. She said he died.”
“You believed her?” Johnny rolled his eyes.
“Well—”
“C’mon. I’ll let you see Mikey. He’s round back.”
FIVE
MIKEY
The three of them cut through patches of knee-high weeds toward the sprawling backyard. A gnarled live oak cast a canopy of shade nearly as wide as a house itself. A tangle of bramble bushes bordered the far edge of the pool of shadow that reminded Savannah of a picture from one of her old fairy tales from when she was a girl. As Savannah moved closer, a stench like nothing she’d ever smelled hit her full in the face. Her gorge rose and she placed her hand over her mouth and nose. Her eyes watered.
Johnny noticed. “No, it don’t smell too good out here.”
From the wide stretched limbs dangled the carcasses of animals Savannah couldn’t identify. Some were large enough to be deer or large dogs, others as small as house cats. All had been partially devoured—the middles ripped out, drained of blood.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a bitch to keep Mikey fed,” Johnny said. “He’s a picky fucker.”
Morgan stumbled away from Johnny’s side. “It’s so nasty!” She doubled over, her hands on her knees and retched.
Savannah turned from her friend just in time to see a flash of movement in the deepening shadows of the oak and the vines of brambles. “What—”
Before she could get the words out, a figure dashed toward her. A flash of graying flesh and dingy teeth and she screamed.
As quickly as the man hurled toward her, he flew backward, sprawling like a bag of sand. The heavy, metallic clank of a chain rivaled his raging cries.
“He can’t get you, don’t worry. Just don’t get any closer,” Johnny said.
Savannah realized the deathly, rotten stench that had taken her breath wasn’t the dried animal carcasses, but the rotting creature that clumsily climbed to his feet. He staggered toward Savannah again and this time she stood her ground, unable to look away. His movements were awkward as if he didn’t have complete control over his limbs. But there was something else. He was familiar. His peeling face could’ve been cute. His dirty teeth were perfectly straight, his hair thick and dark, but filthy and frazzled.
Before she could ask, Morgan had regained what little of her composure she had left and wobbled back over to Johnny’s side. “What the hell? Are you guys twins?”
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Identical.”
“Not quite,” Morgan whispered. “Is he one of those geeks? You know, like at a sideshow?”
“Hell, no,” Johnny said. “Ain’t no such things as geeks.” He yanked the leg from what was left of a cat hanging from the oak and tossed it to the slumping, gray-faced man. “Be good in front of our new friends, Mikey.”
Mikey snatched the torn limb from the ground and greedily gnawed at it, ripping the fur away, and spitting it out.
“He’s a zombie,” Johnny announced proudly. “Mamma, Uncle Levi and me, we brought ’im back.”
“Shit, no!” Morgan cried. Her words were so slurred, it sounded like one word.
“Yep. We keep him chained up to keep him from running off. He’d hurt somebody, otherwise. Or else somebody would kill him. Again.”
Savannah shook her head. “This is bullshit. You bumpkins get off on scaring people, don’t you?”
“You seen too many horror movies, Monster,” Johnny said. “Daddy got too drunk one night and shoved Mikey. Mikey slammed his forehead on the doorjamb and he just didn’t wake up. He died before sunup, and Mamma just about died herself.” Johnny touched Morgan’s hair and winked. Savannah wondered just when they were going to wander off behind the barn to do the nasty. Part of her considered just letting it happen. Sure, that would be a shitty friend, but what the hell?
“Turnabout is fair play, they say,” Johnny went on. “Daddy kilt Mikey first and Mikey kilt him for good.”
SIX
THINGS REALLY GO SOUTH
Always the lady, Morgan announced her desperate need to take a piss and they headed back to the house, leaving Mikey lurching on the end of his chain and grunting in the waning light.
There was no sign of the tow truck. Savannah shot nervous glances toward the road out front, hoping to see some headlights carving the shadows. Nothing.
Inside, Mamma thundered around the kitchen, cooking something that was impossible to identify by smell alone. The oily, fried stink of it permeated the heavy air, bringing on a wave of nausea. “I’ll just wait on the porch,” Savannah muttered, as Morgan staggered back down the dark hallway toward the bathroom.
After a few moments, Morgan reemerged. She plopped down on the porch steps like her muscles had lost all strength. “That tea fucked me up, Monster.”
“Told you not to drink it.” Savannah glanced toward the door to make sure they were alone. “Listen to me, Morgan. I really think we’re in trouble here. Everything’s just too bizarre. Don’t go off anywhere with Johnny. Do you hear me? Don’t go off with him alone.”
Morgan nodded like a stupid kid. “Promise.” Then she giggled softly.
“I’m going to the restroom. Don’t move a muscle while I’m gone.”
“Can I blink?”
“No,” Savannah said. “Don’t even blink.” She sighed and muttered, “Fucking retard.”
She flicked on a single bare lightbulb that swung from the ceiling and piecing light fl
ooded her eyes, making them smart a moment. The bathroom was an incomprehensible mess of grime and stacks of disgusting old crime and girly magazines. The toilet looked as though it had never been cleaned and rarely flushed. Brown stains painted the pot and dark yellow piss splatters dotted the seat, walls and floor. The soles of Savannah’s shoes stuck and peeled up as she stepped across the cracked tile.
“Holy fuck,” she said, unzipping her jeans. She hovered her ass over the toilet, careful not to touch anything.
Suddenly Johnny strolled in.
“What the hell?” she cried. She stood up and hurriedly fumbled with her zipper.
“Don’t worry, sweet thing,” Johnny said.
A sharp sting in her arm and she glanced down, horrified. Johnny held a hypodermic needle up, proudly displaying it to her.
“You didn’t want to make this easy, did you? You could’ve just drank your tea like your slutty little friend. But no. Had to be difficult, didn’t you?”
Savannah’s fingers didn’t work to close up her jeans. Her tongue didn’t work when she tried to protest. She collapsed against Johnny’s hard chest and started sinking to the floor. She felt as if she had left her body and was somehow floating above, looking down, watching herself as if she were watching a bad film.
With what little consciousness and strength she had left, she caught the edge of the sink and saved herself from hitting the floor. She stumbled toward the bathroom door, the world spinning before her. Johnny stalked behind her, laughing.
A howl of terror tore through the house and Morgan crashed against her from behind, making both women fall. Savannah turned onto her back to see Morgan’s practically nude body sprawled on the floor next to her.
A scrawny man plodded down the hall after her, a hate-filled scowl making his lined face even uglier and more sinister than it already was. “Get back in here, little bitch. I ain’t finished with you yet!” he bellowed as he closed up his pants.
“Uncle Levi, that was going to be my piece of ass,” Johnny said. “Sure as hell ain’t gonna want her now.”
“She ain’t no good, anyways,” Uncle Levi said. He bent over and grabbed a handful of Morgan’s hair, making the girl scream again. “She’s too damn noisy.”
Just behind the raging Uncle Levi, a door opened a few inches. A small, pale face appeared in the shadows. The little girl from the yard. Lacy.
“Get the hell back in your room, Lacy,” Johnny shouted. “Mamma’ll holler when dinner’s down.”
The door closed.
Savannah scooted backward, trying to comprehend what was happening. This had to be a nightmare. Uncle Levi moved closer, the odor of tobacco and days of sweat taking her breath for a moment. Unable to think of anything else to do, she pulled her knees up to her chest and then she thrust both feet out and upward, connecting with Uncle Levi’s knees.
Bellowing with rage and pain, he fell against the wall, losing his grip on Morgan’s hair.
“We got us a fighter here,” Johnny said. He laughed down at Savannah, his face a smear of light and shadow.
Morgan shot into the living room, staggering and almost losing her balance again. Johnny wrapped his fingers around Savannah’s bicep, digging them painfully into her flesh. He pulled her up and shoved her toward Morgan.
Morgan turned away and then she spun back around to face the two crazed hillbillies. Miraculously, she’d found a rusty pair of hedge trimmers in a corner. She stabbed the air ahead of her. “Stay away!”
“We don’t have time for this shit, Johnny,” Levi growled. He hobbled forward on his injured knees. “Give me those blades, girl.”
Mamma appeared from the kitchen, wiping her sausage fingers on her apron. “What the hell are these two still doing in here? Mikey’s waiting.”
“Stay away,” Morgan said again, tears streaming down her face, mascara like bruises.
Johnny let go of Savannah’s arm and this time she did fall to the floor. Unable to scream, unable to move, she watched in horror as Johnny moved behind her best friend and snatched her head backward by her long hair. At that same moment, Uncle Levi tore the trimmers from her small hands.
He flipped them around in one motion and raised them up, opening the blades wide. He snapped them closed on Morgan’s neck.
The blades were pitifully dull and the first squeeze carved into the smooth skin of her throat, opening her flesh like a grinning rictus. Blood spouted into the air.
“You’re going to clean that mess up,” Mamma griped.
Morgan clawed at the blades, her face contorted into a look of utter horror. Uncle Levi forced the handles closed with an impatient grunt and Morgan’s head came off.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Her head rolled down her left shoulder and hit the wood floor, facedown, with a dull but solid thud.
Savannah gasped. That was all for which she had enough breath. Her mind raced with adrenaline. There was nothing left but getting out of there. Surviving. Nothing and nobody else mattered. She struggled to her feet, using the wall as a brace, but fell again. Her body didn’t work properly. It wouldn’t cooperate with what her mind was telling it. Her legs were made of rubber.
She thought she saw Johnny smile at her just before the heel of his boot came down on her face. Then everything was black.
SEVEN
SHACKED AND CHAINED
The world was a runny mess of blacks and blues. When she looked up, there was a wondrous golden blob. She blinked hard, twice, three times before realizing where she was and what she was seeing.
Savannah raised her head up and moved into a sitting position. The rough bark of a tree trunk needled into the flesh of her shoulder and back. Looking down, she realized she was nude, but for her panties. The chill night air bit at her flesh sharply, stinging, and she rubbed her arms to warm them. Her head throbbed as if her brain might start oozing from her ears at any moment. The left side of her face felt fat and hot.
A few feet from her, a gnarled and gnawed torso lay, partially covered in dirt. As the images came into focus, the moonlight danced over the pitiful display, the light splattering like white paint through the cover of the trees.
At the far side of her vision, a hunched over figure rocked back and forth. It was nothing more than a suggestion of a human shape, but she knew what she was seeing. Her mind was gracious enough to fill in the blanks the darkness created. The wind rose, blowing a sick, rotten stink in her direction. It was a stink she knew from earlier. Some things wedged themselves into a person’s head and took up residence there. This smell was like that. It was the odor of death and decay.
Feeling as though her head was filled with molten lead, Savannah got to her feet. Cautious, she took a small step backward, but something held her fast. A metal cuff was fastened around her wrist, attached to a thick chain.
The same chain that kept undead Mikey from leaving the muddy backyard. She wet her lips and moved slowly, trying to stick to the heaviest shadows, to keep from being seen. She scanned the rest of the yard and then the back of the house. The windows appeared to be open, but were dark and the yard was deserted except for Mikey and her, and what was left of Morgan.
Mikey remained where he was, hunched. A wet, smacking sound came from that direction, and Savannah made sure she didn’t look that way for too long. She wasn’t sure she could keep from screaming if she actually saw what Mikey was eating over there.
She tugged at the cuff on her wrist. It was looser than she had first realized. She’d always had scrawny arms, but up until now, it had never been an attribute. She worked at it, trying unsuccessfully to remain calm. Her heart pounded
against the walls of her chest and her hands shook. Worse, the cold night was getting to her. Her teeth chattered loudly, and she clenched her jaws to make them stop.
Working up as much saliva as she could, Savannah spit on her wrist, just above the cuff, and began working the metal back and forth, pushing it farther up and on to her hand.
For fuck’s sake! It
’s stuck!
Her arms might have been unnaturally scrawny, but her hands were long and wide. No wonder everyone called her monster. All she needed was a suit and she could’ve been The Slender Man.
Determined, she pushed at the cuff again. It didn’t budge. Looking up, she realized Mikey had gotten his fill of Morgan’s shapely thigh. He stood, stooped and clumsy, and stared at her. His eyes appeared as a pair of black holes—even the moonlight didn’t reflect in them.
He took an uncertain step toward her.
Savannah tugged again at the cuff, this time with all the strength she had left. Her hand became a flaming agony under the metal, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t allow herself to be devoured alive by some B-movie reject. She’d seen them all. It wouldn’t be pretty and it certainly wouldn’t be pleasant.
Another mighty pull at the cuff, and suddenly it gave. Along with her thumb. It popped neatly out of the socket with an audible snap. Savannah’s entire arm went limp for a moment and the world did a quick jig in front of her eyes.
Then she was free. The cuff and chain clattered to the ground. The sound must have jarred something in undead Mikey’s rotted brain because he dashed at her, grunting like a wounded animal. Savannah cut to the right, Mikey’s ragged fingernails leaving a trio of deep grooves in the flesh of her shoulder.
She leapt out of the way, falling headlong into the yard. Gravel and sticks nicked her naked
breasts and gouged her palms as she tried to stop her fall. Either way, Mikey wasn’t coming. His tether held him fast. He struggled against the chain, but couldn’t take another step closer.
“Fuck you, you sad freak,” Savannah muttered, climbing to her feet.
EIGHT
MONSTER MANS-UP
She padded toward the back porch, unsure of what exactly she was going to do. She had to get away from there, but she couldn’t go very far wearing only a pair of panties. She was already freezing. And the south was supposed to be warm and balmy. Bullshit to that.
Box of Zombies: Rise of the Dead Volumes 1-3 Page 2