“Just business? Are you fucking insane?” Chris turned hard to the right, nearly crashing into oncoming traffic. He felt he should warn these people, let them know they were headed toward doom. But there was no time, and he drove on, longing to be within the walls of his mother’s home. “I don’t know if you noticed, but those fucking things back there don’t give a shit about your dope game rules.”
“Well what the fuck you want me to say? I fucked up, I already said that.”
“You said this…this Red…you said he had a new drug. What do you know about it? Seems to me that’s why they came, to get his shit back.”
Spade lifted his bag from the floorboard, unzipped it.
“Is that it? You brought the fucking drugs with you?”
“After all the shit I been through to get it? Hell yeah, I-”
“Why in the hell didn’t you give it to that thing walking around in my stepfather’s body? We’re talking about some fucked up shit…I don’t know, hell on earth from what I can tell, and you’re worried about a bag of fucking drugs?”
“Man, fuck you! You don’t know me, you don’t know shit! I’m Spade, nigga. I run this motherfuckin’-” Spade flinched, pulled the bag open with both hands. “Ah, shit!” He dropped the bag, kicked at it, crawled up on his seat and tried to pedal backward into the rear seats. His body collided with Chris’s hurt shoulder, and Chris grimaced, hissed, swerved the car over a curb and slammed the brakes.
“What the fuck is your problem!”
Spade, now in the back, pointed toward the bag. “That shit was movin’…”
“You mean your precious drugs?”
“I’m not fuckin’ around, man. Just…just throw it out!”
Chris peered through the rear windshield first, made sure there weren’t any beasts closing in on them, but he could only see darkness dotted with streetlights. He leaned over, but before he saw it, he could already hear the bag thrashing. Inside, besides the pistols and bullets, were what looked like black brussels sprouts. Each one of them throbbed like tiny hearts, and they looked wet, beaded with sweat.
“Jesus…what in the hell are those things? You saw that, and thought it was drugs? And you actually put that shit in your mouth?”
“Me? Nah, don’t do drugs, man, never did. But I gotta make a livin’ some way. My homeboys and them hoes took it.” Spade slapped the seat, sighed. “Look, word on the street was Red had some new shit, somethin’ ain’t nobody ever seen. Far as I know, nobody even had a chance to try it out before I jacked his ass. Just throw ‘em out!”
Chris leaned over, reached out his hand, but just before grabbing the bag, a sharp pain exploded in the center of his palm. His already-soaked bandage spilled more blood, and sheets of it poured out, rushed into the bag and over the floorboard and passenger seat.
“Ah, shit!” Chris pulled his hand into his lap, smashed his palms together to try and stop the bleeding.
Tiny sizzling pops came from the bag now, along with a sound like a bunch of balloons deflating. The bag thrashed more violently for a couple of seconds, then went still. Smoke drifted up, filled the car with a sewage stench that induced a gag from both men.
“What the fuck is that?” Spade, with his shirt collar now covering his nose and mouth, leaned his head forward, peered toward his bag.
“My hand…it…what the hell, man?” What the fuck is going on!
Spade looked toward Chris, saw him cradling his bleeding hand. “You bled on ‘em, didn’t you? Yeah you did. And you turned those little fuckin’ things into soup, man.” He laughed. “Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“They ain’t after me, dawg. Well, maybe at first they was, but now? Whatever those things are? They know you special, they know you can stop ‘em.”
“Special? I’m a fucking part-time handyman! I’m not…this can’t…”
“Look, man. I ain’t no genius, but it’s obvious that whatever’s in your blood, it’s killin’ the fuck outta these things. It can’t be a coincidence, ain’t no way.” Spade climbed back up to the front seat, fished the two pistols out of the bag one at a time with his uninjured hand along with a couple handfuls of bullets, his face pinched in disgust the whole time. He tossed the dripping bag out the window, then started wiping the black liquid off the guns with his shirt. “This was all meant to happen.”
Chris wanted to argue, but found himself unable to. How can I be special? I’m a loser, a fucking spoiled rich kid turned slob.
“I was s’posed to jack Red, take his drugs, or whatever the fuck those things were. You lived right above me, man. My homeboys were s’posed to eat the drugs, s’posed to die. It all leads back to you.”
Chris slammed his head backward on the headrest, opened his palms and stared at them, flexing his fingers. The blood had slowed, but still dripped from the wounds, rolled down his forearms.
Spade chuckled, turned in his seat to look Chris right in the eye. “I get it, man. I fuckin’ get it. You’re-”
Spade screamed, his voice taking on a bestial tone for a quick moment. His body spasmed, slamming into the dashboard, the seat, and the door. He turned toward Chris, grimaced to reveal spear-head like teeth protruding from his gums, blood flowing as they pushed themselves out. From his shoulder, where his shirt was stained black and red, emerged a slimy black tentacle.
Chris flinched away as Spade turned to him, his eyes tight knots of pain.
The tentacle slithered out of the stinger wound, as thin as an earthworm, then swung toward Chris. Something round rode the tentacle’s length, starting at Spade’s shoulder, making the hell flesh bulge. It looked like a snake regurgitating an egg, and when the round object made it to the end of the tentacle, the flesh parted, tore, and revealed a yellow eye.
“Shit!”
Spade couldn’t speak, could only bare his teeth, fangs still growing, as the cords in his neck stretched and tightened. When his eyes finally opened, pink with veins, a slight red glow in the center of his pupils, he blinked, and the tentacle eye blinked in perfect rhythm with him. His injured hand flailed, then went rigid, his fingers curled into claws. White crag-like bone obtruded from the bite wounds on his hand, like long, serrated talons.
Chris thrust his arms forward, grabbed the tentacle with both hands and squeezed. It shrieked, the eye blinking rapidly. The slippery flesh shriveled in his grasp, and Chris reached out with one hand and smeared a swipe of blood over Spade’s face.
Spade gasped, but the tone was deep, not his voice, and he jerked his body against the door, breaking the window. Black fluid poured from his mouth and nose, and he choked on it, coughed and thrashed. His body flew back again, folded in half, and flew out the window.
Chris was left gawking in his driver’s seat, still clutching the limp tentacle. The yellow eye shook like a boiling egg, then with a loud pop, exploded and slapped black juice and bits of flesh into Chris’s face.
“Ugh…” Chris spat, rolled his window down and tossed the dead husk of demon flesh out. He wiped his face, spat some more, blew the fluid out of his nostrils.
But his eyes stayed on the passenger window. “Spade? You…you out there, man?”
From what Chris had seen that night, his blood killed these things. He didn’t know if that meant the person had to die too or not, unless of course they were dead in the first place. Spade was still alive when that thing slithered out of him. Maybe he’s still okay.
“Spade? Say something.”
Chris opened the driver’s door, his blood all over him, the taste of the black juice still lingering in his mouth, like curdled milk and licorice. The street seemed too empty, and Chris looked left and right but didn’t see any other cars, no other people.
“Spade, man. Come on.” He stayed on his side of the car, stood on his tippie toes to try and get a look, but still couldn’t see anything. Sure, he thought, my blood can stop these things, but I’m not fucking immune to their violence. His shoulder bite wound reminded him of that with every
throb, and he was in no hurry to round the car just in case something waited for him there.
Screams rang out in the distance, men and women and children, rattling through the night air from all directions. The sound of it nearly stopped Chris’s heart, and in the next instant, the ground rumbled, nearly took him off his feet.
Then it came around the corner, and Chris couldn’t help but scream.
***
No!
Red felt it in his chest the moment it happened. The seeds. Destroyed.
The Master will not be pleased.
Red could already feel Master’s anger, like a ball of magma in the center of his being. But all is not lost, he thought. It has already begun, just on a smaller scale than planned. He and his brothers would just have to work harder, that’s all.
We’ll fucking tear Chris apart!
Red sat atop the shoulders of his brother with the intestine stilts, towering over the street below. From the strong scent in the air-his blood-he knew they were close. He could feel Spade changing, could feel all of the people changing around him, thousands of them now. The eagerness of his newly risen brothers electrified the air around him, and he cackled, called them to him.
Hell flesh surrounded him, cheered up at him with snarls and growls and roars. Some laughed as they adored their new bodies, howling with glee and relief after waiting so long.
“It’s time!”
The shouts of the living still rang out like sweet music all around him, and he knew their numbers grew by the second.
Intestine Stilts reached out with his viscera, wrapped the tubes around his brothers and pulled them in. As each one came, they latched on to one another with claws, teeth, hooks, and bones. The others joined in, rushing toward the growing ball of demons, attaching themselves to it.
As the thrashing wrecking ball grew in size, Red climbed higher and higher. Endless growls and grunts seeped from the ball as it began to roll forward, Red running in place atop the mound of bodies. The rest of them followed, sprinting through the ruined streets.
Chris was near, Red could feel him now. Red angled his body and turned the ball, catching glimpses of his brothers’ faces, all smiling and chattering with anticipation.
And then he saw the yellow car, saw their nemesis standing in the street off in the distance.
Here we come, you son of a whore!
***
Chris didn’t realize what he was seeing at first. He could only stand there and stare up at it as it thundered down the street toward him. Countless red eyes stared out of the huge ball of monsters, their limbs thrashing about chaotically. It looked like someone stood atop the gigantic bowling ball, cackling, and Chris knew it was Todd right away.
“Holy shit!”
He ran around the car, found Spade lying on the ground, broken glass sprinkled all around him.
“Spade…Spade, wake up. Wake up!” Chris fell to his knees, slapped the man’s face. He looked up at the approaching boulder, gasped, then jumped back to his feet. Once again, his instincts told him to leave Spade there and drive the fuck away. But he found himself flinging the passenger door open, reaching down and grabbing Spade by his armpits.
A loud crash erupted, and Chris swung his eyes toward it to see the demon boulder rolling over parked cars, smashing against the side’s of buildings. As it grew nearer, he heard the roars and growls of the demons, along with maddening laughter and giggling.
Chris bent at the knees, straightened his back, and lifted. His wounds came alive with agony then, and he couldn’t stop the scream that blew from his stomach, but he clenched his teeth and fought through it, got Spade high enough off the ground to waddle to the car and dump him in.
He slammed the door, but Spade’s foot was still dangling out, and the door flung back out, the foot flinching to life.
“Aw…fuck!” Spade whimpered and pulled his foot in, clutched at his ankle with shaking hands.
Chris slammed the door again, glad to see Spade awake and himself again, but there wasn’t any time to do anything but run. Todd’s laughter was audible over the destruction of the ball, and the demons’ eyes lit the entire street with bloody luminescence.
Chris’s hands shook as he tried to swing the driver’s door open. Sprinting toward him down the street, following the wrecking ball, were hundreds of others. Former people, all shapes and sizes and ages. Where their flesh had been torn open or split or chewed on, new appendages, tentacles, claws, mouths sprouted forth.
Spade’s scream from inside the car snapped Chris out of his trance as he watched them storm toward him, and he swung the door open and hopped in. The keys still dangled from the ignition and the car still idled, and Chris threw the car into Drive, slammed his foot to the floor.
He checked the rearview mirror, saw the demons right on their tail. Todd’s legs moved like he was on a treadmill, and he pointed a clawed finger toward the beamer as it picked up speed.
“What the fuck is goin’ on? What…what the fuck is that?” Spade had his body turned around in the passenger seat as he watched through the broken rear windshield. The roars and cackling of the beasts grew louder by the second. “Faster, man! Faster! They comin’ up on us quick!”
“I’m fucking trying!” He swung the car with a sharp right turn on a random street, but the demon ball turned with him, closing in fast.
“Here they come! Ah shit!” Spade quickly buckled his seatbelt, squeezed his eyes shut, braced his hands on the dash.
In the next instant, the car was hit from behind, and the creatures howled with excitement, reached out and scraped talons and teeth across the car metal. The rear of the car dipped, throwing the front end into the air before slamming back down. Spade screamed as Chris grunted and barely missed slamming into a parked car.
“Fucking do something!”
“You can’t stop us!” Todd’s voice, coated with a demonic gruffness. “We’ll tear you to pieces, and I’ll drag your soul back to hell with me!”
Boom!
The tires squealed as they were shoved forward. Chris’s hands pulsed and fresh blood ran down his arms. A face appeared in the driver’s window, unhinged its mouth to reveal the rows and rows of teeth, the eyes making Chris squint as he reached out with his bleeding palm.
Blood drops rained from his wound as the wind hit it, sprinkling the creature’s head. It hissed as the blood sizzled over its face, then fell away from the window and rolled away behind them.
The demon ball hit again, and both men screamed. Blood rushed in throbbing gushes from Chris’s hands now, and though the pain was present, Chris was glad to see it.
Spade’s right. I am special. And it’s up to me to stop these motherfuckers.
“Take the wheel,” Chris said as he ripped the soaking bandages away from his hands.
“What?”
“Take the fucking wheel, man. Hurry!” Chris swung the car into another sharp turn, getting closer and closer to his mother’s house, his real home.
The boulder followed, but they gained some ground. Not much, but enough for Chris to open the sunroof and for Spade to clamber over the middle console and take the wheel.
The car swerved as they exchanged positions.
“Holy fuck! What the hell you gonna do, man?” Spade’s voice had taken on a higher pitch, and his tongue darted out every other second to lick his lips.
Chris stood on the middle console, raised his torso through the sunroof and faced the approaching horde. His body barely fit, and as his torn shoulder and side scraped against the sunroof’s glass and metal, he winced, but didn’t slow. The padding on his torso wedged him tight, and he faced the demons, squinted against the neon of their eyes.
Todd screamed with laughter, was on all fours running atop the mound of monsters.
Chris raised both hands to either side of him, let the blood pumping from his hands spray the hell pursuing him. The wind whipped his hair and clothing, flung the blood onto the demons like sea mist.
The demon
s on foot squealed, shrieked, hit the concrete and rolled away. Todd growled and hissed, but his sounds were quickly dwarfed and smothered by the screaming of the others.
The giant ball exploded into bodies, the creatures flying off in all directions, slamming into cars and storefronts, breaking glass, denting metal, and chipping brick.
Chris saw Todd plummet into the center of the crumbling mound, but then couldn’t make him out as the flailing bodies rushed over the street like water from a giant popped water balloon.
“Holy shit!” Spade whooped and cackled, slapped the steering wheel with his mangled hand then cried out and cradled it in his lap.
When the car started to slow, Chris pounded the roof of the car. “No, don’t slow down. Keep going!” He watched as most of the demons got back up, dazed, but not defeated. This shit wasn’t over yet. “Turn left at the next light!”
Just knowing they were heading to his mother’s filled him with a tingling sensation and twisted his stomach. He’d spent most of his life there, used to love it there. But then Todd showed up and ruined everything. After his mother died, he promised himself he’d never go back there.
But now, it was the only place he could think to go. And he would make his final stand.
***
When they pulled up to the house, Chris finally let his body slide back through the sunroof and into the passenger seat. It seemed that the demons had slowed, possibly second guessing their plan after the shower of blood.
His hand wounds throbbed, blood still steadily pumping, but he didn’t feel woozy or dizzy from the blood-loss. In fact, he felt focused, pumped-up, had never felt so brave in all his life. He actually wanted those fucking things to come looking for him, wanted them to give chase. It was up to him to stop them, he knew that now, and if he didn’t, the world would suffer. Hell would rise.
“Damn, this is your crib?” Spade whistled as the headlights of the beamer showed the extensive lawn and driveway, the massive two story house at the end of it with the second story wooden balcony extending forward like the bill of a baseball cap.
Bleed On Me Page 5