Brain Dead Blues

by Matt Hayward

  They turned their heads upwards to the handrail at the top of Harrison's trail. Annie Lee rounded the corner. From the main road, she looked tiny. Her hunched gait told Sam who it was.

  Annie stumbled towards the wooden handrail, admiring the tiny town from her beautiful vantage point. On any other day it would have been a wonderful sight to see. But now, it made Sam's heart flutter and his stomach lurch. He knew why she stood there. She had climbed up high, just as infected ants did. If she'd done that much, she'd do the rest.

  Soon enough, the Cordyceps would register that she was up high enough, and then it would grow from her skin. It would burst from its host shell like something on the set of a science fiction movie. It would grow and grow, until it couldn't grow any more. And then it would explode.

  It would rain down onto Mayfair Street.

  It would infect the colony.

  Sam's legs turned to jelly. He kept his eyes on the old woman, perched up high. He half-ran, half-lurched down the street, trying to find his voice. Eventually he managed to speak. “Leo, come on... we can't wait for the ambulance. Run!”

  “I can't run, I'm old.”

  “I'll help you.” They made their way for their work space. “We need to get inside the garage.”

  Sam kept his eyes on Annie as he spoke, her figure silhouetted by the high sun behind her. It sat in the sky above the mountain like a raging white ball. Annie Lee was a black outline, and for now, a normal person from afar. But that soon changed.

  From Annie's head grew a long, thin appendage. It moved with unnatural speed. It reminded Sam of stop-motion animation. The thing looked like a curling, spindly tree branch. It continued to grow, twisting as it went.

  Sam bolted for the garage, pulling Leonard behind him.

  Entering the garage, Sam made for the protective masks. He threw one back to Leonard without a word and quickly fastened another onto his own face. His breathing was amplified inside of it, and it smelled like sawdust. But if it kept him alive, he'd never take it off again.

  “Do we have any more of these?” Leonard's voice was a muffle.

  “Just our two. Never saw a need to buy more.” Sam thought it over. They couldn't stay in the garage forever. And if the masks were going to work, they'd know soon enough. There was no way of finding out other than to go back outside. Another idea hit him.

  “Look, I think we need to get up the Harrison trail. I need to know if...” Sam swallowed. “If what you told us about the ants is happening here.”

  Leonard nodded, his eyes glistening. “I'm really scared, Sammy. But I need to know, too.”

  “Good. Then let's not waste any more time. Come on.”

  Outside, they saw Mr. and Mrs. Roberts making their way up Mayfair Street. Sam stopped on the lawn. The couple weren't walking, they were shuffling. The sight of them gave Sam the chills.

  “Come on,” Sam spoke from inside his mask, “let's catch up to them.”

  They called to the couple, but the Roberts never turned. Instead, they lumbered slowly onward. Sam moved in front of them and looked at their faces. His stomach dropped. Their mouths drooped. Their eyes stared, glazed and unfocused. Their legs seemed to carry the rest of their body’s dead weight.

  More figures approached from further down the street. The sound of doors opening up and down Mayfair filled the air. The residents emerged and made their way towards Harrison Mountain.

  “We need to get up there, Leo. Come on. If one of them bursts, we're going to get it for sure. We need to get up higher so we don't catch the spores.”

  Leonard nodded. His head swung from person to person as they shuffled up Mayfair Street. Sam knew that since Leonard had lived here for the past twenty years, he considered these people his neighbors, his friends. “That's Donny Edmond,” he said. “and Earl Jones. And there's Mrs. Fetcher.”

  Sam shook his head. “I'm sorry, but they're different now.”

  He began to jog slowly, turning every so often to make sure Leonard was keeping up. The old man cried, but kept up the pace. For a man in his sixties, Leonard did very well. Sam quickened his speed.

  They made their way up the dirt trail, passing beneath the branches of tall pine that rustled in the wind. Hearing birds chirp from their nests, Sam wondered if the animals would be infected as well... just how bad could it be?

  At least half an hour would pass before they reached Annie Lee. They didn't stop for a break once, even though a stitch gnawed at Sam's side and the mask made him sweat profusely. He needed water badly. Although he wondered how Leonard fared, he didn't take the time to look.

  They rounded a corner and Sam pointed. “Look, there!”

  Dr. Philips stood beside Annie Lee, looking out over their picturesque town. They looked like a pair of grotesque statues. Their eyes drooped and their mouths hung wide open. Dr Philips acted as if he had been lobotomized. They looked like a couple enjoying a break on their evening stroll — if it weren't for the thing that grew from Annie Lee.

  “Higher!” Sam shouted, grabbing Leonard. “We need to climb above her!”

  Pulling his friend by the jacket sleeve, Sam raced up the trail. He had to watch his footing to make sure he wouldn't trip over a rock or root. Finally he felt high enough to stop, turn around...and look.

  The Cordyceps had broken through Annie's forehead, a bony spear reaching nearly five feet in length. A wave of nausea rolled up Sam's stomach and he fought to keep it down.

  Leonard gasped. “Oh sweet Jesus H. Christ!”

  He didn't need to say anything else. Sam could see for himself.

  They came from the city like an inky wave, moving ever so slowly. The townspeople made their way to the foot of Harrison, where they disappeared into the sea of pines below, hundreds of them, and they were making their way to the top of the mountain.

  A ripping sound drew Sam's attention back to Annie Lee, just as she exploded.

  In The Woods, We Wait

  My name is Teddy McEvoy, I'm seventy years old, and last night I lost my wife. I'll soon go and join her, myself, of that I'm quite sure. In the last twenty-four hours, my life's changed dramatically... It's funny how that can happen in such a short time. I can't afford to sidetrack here, so I apologize if I do, but I'm just so tired. I'm so very tired...

  My arthritis is setting in something fierce, so I need to get this down quick.

  Before I go back out there, I need you to understand a few things. First of all, I'm certain the tragic deaths of Theodore and Ellie McEvoy will be announced on the local news tomorrow. The reporters might say that in my old age I succumbed to Alzheimer's or maybe even dementia from the loss of my wife, only twenty-four hours before me. Every word you hear will be a lie. And if you're reading this, I'm happy that someone will know the truth, and that I didn't write this all down in vain. I left a note downstairs for Sheriff White to apologize about his son.

  The second thing I need to tell you is that her comb's on the bed. The white one, the one she used on her hair every morning. It wasn't there a moment ago. I should know, I made the bed when I got back this morning, after my shower. I make that bed everyday. Force of habit, you know? I was caked in mud and god knows what else. My joints were killing me, I needed that hot water bad, and when I finished, her comb was there. Even now, I can see it reflected in Ellie's mirror, right behind me. I'm sitting at her vanity table.

  That's why I decided to write this down, not just about what I saw in the woods, but all of it, even the comb and what I believe to be other hallucinations. It's probably due to the bite, an infection, perhaps, but it's on my left arm, and thankfully, I'm right-handed. I cleaned the wound in the shower with peroxide and bandaged it. All around, the skin was a deep pink. Agonizing to clean. My arm's still killing me. But enough of that. I need to stop rambling and get down to the point.

  This morning, I woke up in Brian's field. That's the other side of Pure Mile Road. I must have fainted after the gunshots.

  Ellie didn't respond when I'd shouted her n
ame. She stayed about ten feet ahead of me at all times, and I just couldn't keep up. God, I screamed my throat hoarse shouting her name. She never even acknowledged me. I cried at being ignored after a while. My legs hurt, and I'd left in such a hurry that I'd forgotten a flashlight. She didn't bring one, either. But, once again, I'm getting ahead of myself here. I need to start at the beginning.

  She'd been in the garden only a few hours before. I could see her through the kitchen window. We'd been talking about getting a dishwasher, and I'd said I'd do the dishes after we ate if she drove me to the hardware store the following day (that would have been today), to pick one out. I never did learn to drive, and I guess I never will. I depended on her so much. I miss her with all my heart, and I just hope this is all over soon, so that I don't have to hurt much longer. I need the pain to go away, both mentally and psychically. I think I need to get a glass of water and calm down.

  Ok, let me start again. She was out in the garden, her back to me. She stood and said she heard something. Of course I was curious. The valley in Calico is surrounded by woodland, hundreds of acres of it, so strange noises are nothing to worry about. Usually it's just the trees creaking, hunters shooting in and out of season, or some other such nonsense. But she said she heard singing.

  “It sounds so beautiful, such a sad melody,” she said. I chuckled and asked if she'd come back inside, but she said she wanted to hear the rest of it first.

  “You can still hear it?” I asked.

  She looked at me with far away eyes. “Can't you?”

  That's when I became frightened. Ellie and I were by no means spring chickens. I'd reached the big seven-zero last February, three years Ellie's senior. We had talked about dementia after Greg, her brother, succumbed to it last year. Although, we came to the conclusion that it wasn't something either of us thought we'd ever have to worry about. We both did plenty to keep our minds active, and had always loved our Scrabble Sundays. We had more wit between us than most of the folks half our age. But at that moment, I wasn't so sure.

  I said I honestly couldn't hear anyone singing, but I strained my ears anyway, hoping I would catch the melody. I still heard nothing. She had said, “oh”, all drawn out, more a breath than a word. Then she'd turned and started towards Pure Mile Road.

  I called to her, thinking she was playing a trick, as she had an odd sense of humor… I just noticed I wrote 'had' instead of 'has'… I better find her soon, because I can't take another minute of this. I didn't understand what she was doing, so when she reached the end of the street and didn't turn back, I power-walked after her, calling her name. A smile twitched my lips, I remember. A nervous one. I was still waiting for the prank to happen. When she reached the start of Pure Mile, I got scared. I called for help, but no one came.

  So, I ran after her.

  Pure Mile runs parallel to the main road. It's a dirt-packed path used by walkers and hikers that leads through the forest. Large pines loom overhead, blocking out the sun. The far end opens out onto a natural lake, and further on past the lake is what's known as the Miner's Village. It's a barren landscape that used to be a mine back in the fifties. I hadn't been up that way in years on account of how steep of a walk it is, and as I followed Ellie, I thought I'd have another heart attack. My ticker pounded my ribcage and I could hardly catch a breath.

  To say I was terrified would be an understatement. I'd never seen her act remotely peculiar before. After chasing her for what seemed like hours, my mind wandering to the worst conclusions, she veered to the left— off the pathway and up into the woods. She moved so gracefully, as if her age was of no significance. Mine was. I lost sight of her. I heard her glide under tree branches and hop over rocks as if she'd done this a thousand times before. The thick pines snapped me in the face. I tripped more than a dozen times and had to keep taking breaks to catch my breath. All the while, I still wheezed her name.

  I don't mind telling you, as I sat there crying, trying to breathe, I felt very old, very alone, and very scared. Then, when I was about to keep going, something caught my attention. I could hear footsteps, fast feet hitting packed dirt. It wasn't coming from Ellie's direction. Someone was coming up Pure Mile.

  The owner of those feet called my name. I shouted to them, letting them know where I was. I sat slightly up the mountain in the thicket of the woods to their left. I had managed to find my voice, but it was very weak.

  Light shone through the trees, making silhouettes.

  “Teddy?” It was a man, and he sounded worried. Working his way up through the thick clump of trees, I realized it was Bob White, Sheriff White's son. Also a police officer. When he broke through the last few trees, he looked out of breath, and just as scared as I was.

  “Teddy.” He sounded relieved. “What's happened? I heard you calling from my place. Thank god I found you. What's happened?”

  I told him all about Ellie, my throat hurting from the lump in it as I spoke.

  “I'll go find her,” Bob said, like a dog owner telling his pet to stay. “You wait here.”

  I got very angry at the young son-of-a-bitch just then. His stupid mustache made me want to punch his lights out all the more.

  “She's my wife, and I'm coming. I'm not going to slow you down.” I didn't know if that was true or not, but I was determined to find out.

  I kept my head down, letting Bob's torch light the way ahead. In the glow, I could make out the carpet of pines beneath my feet, and I did my best not to slip. All the while, I worried where my wife had gone. My chest tightened every time I pictured her face.

  Eventually, we reached a plateau, a clearing in the woods about the length of a football field. No trees grew there. Instead, they surrounded it, as if on guard. The earth looked clear of pine needles, the ground spoiled and dark. Bob asked if I'd ever seen this place and I told him I hadn't. Then he bent and scooped up a handful of dirt, letting it slide back through his fingers.

  “Soil's ruined. Nothing's growing.”

  Captain fucking obvious, I know. God forgive me, I wanted to hit him bad.

  A branch snapped on the far side of the clearing, in the woods, making my breath hitch in my throat. Bob swiveled his light towards the sound, bathing the wall of trees in a soft glow.

  “Not strong enough at this distance.”

  “Bob, maybe you shouldn't…”

  But he'd already started across the clearing, his neck stretched forth as if a few more inches allowed him to see better.

  Bob made it about halfway when the second branch snapped. Louder this time. He paused with a gasp, then called Ellie's name.

  That's when things got very strange.

  A figure slowly emerged from of the darkness at the far end of the clearing. Bob called Ellie's name again, and I stood frozen, my heart pounding. My palms began to sweat and my lips dried up. My legs turned to rubber as I walked toward Bob and started calling her name, too.

  A rustling came from just beyond the tree line.

  Bob's light focused on the thing shuffling forward. It let out a moan, low and ominous, sending ice-fingers up my spine. I could hear my own heart beating very loud. Stepping into the clearing, I squinted to see better.

  “What in God's name?”

  It would have looked like a person if the thing's arms weren't so unbelievably long. They reached nearly to its kneecaps. I'd never seen or heard of anything like it. The head was a joke of a human's. It had no hair and a long face, and its features were melted. It's what I imagine a person's face would look like if they'd gotten radiation sickness. The thing's skin looked dark grey and it wore what were formerly clothes. I know they were formerly clothes because the remains of a sneaker clung to its left foot. The rest was unrecognizable shreds of cloth, caked in dirt.

  Hoisting its freakishly long arms above its head, the thing shambled toward us. In the moonlight I could see liquid glistening and dripping from its mouth. It seemed to be salivating.

  “Stop moving!” Bob cried out, removing his gun from its holste
r. His hands shook as he leveled it. “I-I'm warning you, stop!”

  My hands were balled up so tight I think my nails drew blood.

  A sharp smell hit me. Bob had pissed his pants. I'd been wrong about the kid. He whimpered like a dog, sure, but he never ran.

  The thing plodded closer.

  At this distance, I could make out its eyes. Milky white, no pupils. It got within fifteen feet when Bob warned it again. At ten feet, he fired the first round.

  I jerked, my heart bashing through my chest. The shot echoed through the clearing and my own skull. The bullet left a gaping hole in the monster's chest, one as big as a coin. From it slopped a dark, sludgy substance. A rancid, fishy odor followed. I gagged.

  The thing didn't seem to notice the injury. Instead, it just kept shuffling forward, its creepy arms still raised. The mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water, saliva smacking and dribbling. Bob fired another few rounds, but, once again, the thing didn't respond. Then it was on us.

  Looking back, I don't know why we didn't run. It just didn't occur to us, I guess. People act funny when they're terrified.

  The thing's arms smashed down on Bob White's hands, knocking the gun away. Letting out another moan, the monster sounded annoyed more than anything.

  Then it spun on me. I had no time to react. Before I could even register what was happening, it had lifted my arm to its mouth, tearing away a chunk of flesh. The pain was like nothing I'd ever experienced. I whipped my arm back, screaming, and ran for the woods, back towards Pure Mile, towards home. I could hear Bob right behind me, yelling his throat raw.

  My eyes watered, blind spots dancing in front of me. When the pain started to dull, I realized I was slowing down. Not intentionally. And that's where my memory starts to fade.

  I have a brief recollection of the ground rushing towards my face. Then of Bob White's muffled, far away voice saying that the thing wasn't following us anymore. I think I let out an involuntary sound the whole time. I remember hands rolling me to my side, and then hearing cloth rip. I remember the bobbing sensation of being carried.