Perfect Little Monsters and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  “So where's this gas station?” he asks, peering out the window. “Place looks goddamn dead to me.”

  “It's on the other side of town,” she tells him. “Looks like the whole town is just a few blocks, you have to go over the town square. It'll be like going to one of those safari parks where you sit in a car and see weird creatures out the window. We'll get a view of this rundown little town and then -” She stops suddenly, looking out the side window. “Hey, turn the music off.”

  “No chance.”

  “I'm serious! Don't you hear that?” Reaching over, she turns the dial down, and immediately they both hear the sound of a woman screaming somewhere outside the car.

  “Woah!” Tom says, hitting the brakes and bringing them to a full stop. “What the hell is this place? Some kind of ghost town?”

  “No,” she replies cautiously, “there are people up ahead, see? That must be the town square. Like in Back to the Future, you know?”

  “I'm getting us out of here,” he says, as the scream continues. “This place is insane.”

  “Come on, it's probably nothing.” She squints, so she can see the people in the distance. “They're just normal people, see? It looks like they're just going about their usual business.” She watches as a middle-aged woman emerges from one of the buildings and stops to talk to a passerby. “Maybe they're having some kind of weird festival, or an open-air movie thing, something like that. Come on, we need the gas. Or would you rather take that detour? It'll just be another crappy little town, they're all basically identical.” She waits for an answer, before grinning as she nudges his arm. “Seriously, Tom. This place just got interesting.”

  “Fine,” he mutters, easing the car forward, “but for the record, I want to make it clear that this place creeps me the hell out.”

  “It actually looks kind of sweet,” Bryony replies as they reach the town square, where bunting is hanging from some of the buildings and people look to be getting on with things despite the horrific, pained scream that continues to fill the air. She looks around for a movie screen, or for some kind of festival banner, but she slowly starts to frown as she realizes that there's nothing to indicate why there's a loud scream everywhere.

  “What. The. Hell.” Turning to Bryony, Tom seems lost for words. “Seriously?”

  “Pull over,” she replies.

  “I don't think that's a good idea...”

  “There's a diner,” she tells him. “I'm hungry. Pull over, I want to ask what the hell is going on! Don't you think it's kind of cool?”

  “This place is seriously weird,” he replies as he stops the car. “It's like... It's like the scream is everywhere.”

  Opening the door on her side, Bryony climbs out and onto the sidewalk. She takes a few steps toward the diner and then stops, turning to look across the town square. People genuinely seem to be getting on with things, completely ignoring the horrified scream. She tells herself it might be some kind of modern art installation, although she finds it kind of hard to believe that people in the middle of nowhere would be interested in something like that. As far as she can see, Pine Ridge is the most boring, normal town in the world.

  Apart from the scream, obviously.

  “Hi!” says a friendly voice nearby.

  Turning, Bryony sees a woman wiping some tables down, outside the diner.

  “Can I help you guys with something?” the woman asks with a smile.

  “What...” Bryony pauses for a moment, trying to get her thoughts in order as the scream continues. “What's going on here?”

  “Going on?” The woman frowns, before a smile returns to her face. “Oh, you mean all this?” She gestures toward the bunting. “Oh, we've just been getting ready for June 12th. That's the day every year when we celebrate the founding of our town, one hundred and twenty-five years ago. It's basically an excuse for a big party. People like to dress up, re-enact key moments, hold speeches, that sort of thing.”

  “Uh-huh,” Bryony replies. “And... what about the...”

  The woman waits for her to finish.

  “Well, I mean... What about the sound?” Bryony continues. “What's going on with that?”

  “The sound?” Pausing again, the woman seems genuinely confused. “I don't know what you -” Hearing a voice calling from inside, she smiles again. “Sorry, I've got to get back in there, but you kids have fun, okay? I hope you get time to take a look around our little town. We're very friendly and we don't bite! Where are you from, anyway?”

  “Um... Denver,” Bryony replies.

  “Far from home, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Welcome to Pine Ridge,” the woman replies. “My name's Mary. If I can help you guys out with anything, don't hesitate to come in and let me know, okay?”

  As the woman heads back into the diner, Bryony turns to Tom. “What the hell is going on in this place?”

  “We should get out of here,” he replies. “Seriously, the vibe here is, like, wrong on so many levels.”

  “It's obviously just some kind of weird hick tradition,” she tells him. “They're obviously just a little... weird. Like, the kind of weird I thought you only ever found below the Mason-Dixon line. Maybe that, like, southern gothic stuff's leaking out.”

  “How can they even stand it?” he asks, wincing as the scream continues. “It's, like, drilling into my soul.”

  Turning to look across the town square, Bryony sees that people are going about their everyday lives as if absolutely nothing is wrong. The scream, which if anything seems to be getting a little louder, just goes on and on, filling the air and seeming to bounce between the buildings surrounding the square. The craziest thing is that no-one is reacting at all; people are just carrying on with their lives, smiling and chatting and acting as if nothing is wrong.

  “What have we got here, then?” asks Don Ridley, adjusting his pants as he wanders toward them with a smile. “Strangers in town? You're a little early for the celebrations.”

  Turning to him, Bryony and Tom stare for a moment.

  “We just came for gas,” Tom says finally. “That's all, I swear!”

  “Well,” he replies, “the gas station's down that street over there, right at the end, but if you're not in a hurry you should really think about sticking around. I know small-town life might not seem that exciting to a couple of kids such as yourselves, but we're a real friendly town. We also do mean barbecue ribs.” He turns to Matt, who has just emerged from the diner with a coffee in his hands and a newspaper tucked under his arm. “Ain't that right, Doc?”

  “Pretty friendly, yeah,” Matt replies with a smile.

  “What's with that horrible sound?” Bryony asks, stepping toward them. “Is it, like, an art installation or something?”

  “I'm sorry, sweetie?” Don replies with a frown. “I don't quite get ya.”

  “That sound,” she continues, “the scream. What's going on?”

  “Scream?” Don pauses for a moment, before turning to Matt. “Doc, do you know what this lovely young lady is talking about?”

  Matt shakes his head.

  “It's everywhere,” Bryony continues. “It's, like, filling the whole town. It sounds like someone's in agony!”

  “Well, I tell you what,” Don replies. “In truth of fact, there was a bit of a... thing... a few months ago, but it's all over now. I think you must just be getting a little confused.” He turns to Tom. “Maybe your girlfriend's hearing things.”

  “I hear it too,” Tom tells him.

  “You do?”

  “How can anyone not hear it?” Bryony asks, as a couple of smiling women walk past with a child right behind them. “How can people just get on with their lives while that scream is everywhere?” As another woman walks past, Bryony grabs her arm. “You can hear it, right? It's not just us?”

  “Hear what?” Mrs. Chinnery asks, before turning to Don.

  “What about you,” Bryony asks, looking down at Alice. “Do you hear the scream?”

&nb
sp; “I...” Alice pauses, before frowning slightly. “I... I'm not sure, I...”

  “What's going on?” Mrs. Chinnery asks, turning to Don. “Who are these people?”

  “Nothing's going on,” Don says, taking Bryony's hand and moving it away from Alice's arm. “Just some kids having a little fun.” As Mrs. Chinnery and her daughter walk away, Don turns to Tom. “Maybe you two should get your gas and keep on going. Like I said, we're a friendly little town, but we're not too keen on people coming in and causing a disturbance. We're not here for your amusement. We like peace and quiet here in Pine Ridge.”

  “You can still hear it, can't you?” Bryony asks, turning to Tom. “Please tell me you can still hear it.”

  He nods warily. “I think maybe we should go,” he tells her, heading back around to the driver's side of the car. “Come on, let's find that gas station.”

  “You kids have fun on the road,” Don tells them as they get back into the car. “You're only young once!”

  “What the hell is wrong with these people?” Bryony asks as she pulls her door shut. “They're acting like they can't even hear the scream!”

  “I don't know,” Tom replies, starting the engine, “and I don't want to find out.” He turns the music back on and increases the volume, before flooring the throttle pedal. “Whatever's going on in this freak-ass town, I want to get out of here. Now!”

  As the car speeds away from the town square, Bryony turns and looks back. Despite the music, she can still hear the scream. It sounds like a girl, suffering horrific pain and crying out for help. Feeling a shiver pass through her chest, she turns to Tom, but no words leave her lips. There are no words. After a moment, she turns to look forward and simply stares straight ahead, before reaching over and turning the music up even higher.

  “It's some kind of weird art installation,” she says finally, trying to convince herself. “That's all. It's an art thing. Goddamn freaks.”

  They don't stop at the gas station. They figure they can wait until the next town.

  ***

  “Well that was weird,” Don says, watching as the car disappears into the distance. He turns to Matt. “Kids, huh? Crazy.”

  “What they said about the scream -”

  “They were punkin' us,” Don continues, adjusting his belt again as he heads toward the diner's main door. “Trying to scare us, you know? Put the wind up us. Kids these days, I swear, their sense of humor just shoots right over my head.”

  “But -”

  “Don't think about it, Doc.”

  “Yeah, but if -”

  “Don't think about,” he says again, more firmly this time. “They obviously heard about what happened here a few months ago, with that scream n'all, and they though they'd stop by and play a prank.” He pats Matt on the shoulder. “The scream's gone. It stopped ages ago, remember? It was horrible while it lasted, but it's all over now.”

  “How exactly did it end, again?” Matt asks. “I remember that morning when people started losing their minds, and then... I mean, everything's kind of hazy after that.”

  “It's gone, buddy. That's the important thing. I mean, I sure as hell don't hear it anymore. Do you?”

  “No, but we never found -”

  “It's gone,” Don says again, with a hint of grit in his voice. “Long, long gone. You remember what it was like when that scream was still hollerin' out everywhere, everyone was losin' their goddamn minds. We're just lucky it stopped, that's all.” He pauses, before forcing a smile back to his face. “Well, that cup of coffee won't drink itself. Got a pain in my knee, too, wouldn't mind gettin' your thoughts on that if you've got time. See you later, buddy, yeah? I'll drop by your place.”

  Matt lingers for a moment in the doorway. Looking across the town square, he sees familiar faces going about their daily business. There's Judy Cluny, sitting on a bench with her new boyfriend Robbie; nearby, Kelly Hargreaves is laughing as she walks with Elizabeth Kellerman; over on the far side of the town square, meanwhile, the Hunter brothers are hard at work on the Beauy building, getting it ready for its grand reopening in a few days' time as a new civic hall. Everything seems perfect, and everyone seems happy. The sky is blue, and the sun is shining, and people are laughing.

  For a moment, just a fraction of a second, Matt imagines he can hear the scream again. Ringing out across the town, filling the air, as loud as before or maybe even louder. Terrified, tortured, begging for help, worse than ever and getting louder and louder until -

  “Yeah, buddy?” Don says suddenly, shaking Matt out of his daze by putting a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay? Did you hear a word I just said?”

  For a moment, Matt listens again to the sounds of the town. People are happy. A car drives past. A child rides his bike along the sidewalk. For a moment, Matt feels as if something might be wrong under the surface, something he's forgotten or something he's simply learned to ignore, but...

  Nearby, a pretty girl talks to her friend about boys, and a child laughs.

  “Yeah,” he replies finally, forcing a smile as he turns to Don. “Everything's great.”

  Fifty Fifty

  Prologue

  Ants crawled across the dead girl's face, scurrying in and out of her eye sockets and nostrils, not daring to spend more than a few seconds at a time in direct sunlight.

  The desert heat had already dried the outside of the girl's body, causing the skin to wither and cling to her bones, but there were still occasional scraps of juicy meat tucked away in little crevices, and that was what the ants on the surface were after. Soon there would be nothing left at all, just leathery skin and bones, and then the colony would have to move on and find a new source of food. For now, though, the dead girl was still useful to them. Every morsel counted in the desert.

  Deep inside her chest, beneath her prison-issue uniform and the remains of her skin and bones, scores of ants swarmed around her organs. Their tiny legs danced across the surface of her heart, and their mandibles chewed at any patch of steak-like meat that was still worth taking. In what was left of her hips, one particularly industrious group of ants had found some firm, bloody meat, the sushi of the body, while in her ovaries there was caviar on offer as her eggs were nibbled away.

  All these scraps of meat and more were carried out through several holes. Some of the ants emerged from her mouth, others from a gap between her ribs, and a few even found a route that passed through her buttocks and out through a shaded hole near her anus. Whichever route they took, they were all heading for the same crack in the scorched, dry desert soil, which led down to the colony where their fat little queen waited to be fed.

  In the distance, shimmering in the heat, a squat dark building could just about be seen. The San Marco DiMera Women's Prison and Correctional Facility was almost a mile and a half away. That was as far as the girl had managed to run before collapsing and dying beneath the desert sun.

  And she was the lucky one.

  Day One

  “Roper!”

  She froze, her heart suddenly pounding. After staring down at her breakfast tray for a moment, she dared glance at the woman opposite, who was eying at her with an expression of pure pity. Slowly, she began to realize that everyone at the nearby tables was staring at her, too.

  “Roper!”

  “That's you, Gemma,” a voice whispered, as she felt someone nudging her elbow. “Bad luck, girl. Or good luck, depending on how you see it.”

  Gemma swallowed hard. Her mind was racing as she tried to think of alternatives. Maybe there was someone else named Roper in the prison, or maybe the usual routine was being broken and some other -

  “Roper! Get up here, bitch! Are you deaf?”

  Realizing that three calls was the maximum before trouble started, she got to her feet. Her hands were shaking now, but slowly she turned and looked across the food hall. Sure enough, one of the guards was standing on the gantry, staring straight at her with a dark frown. As they made eye contact, however, he winked with a faint s
mile.

  “Good luck,” Barbara whispered. “If you make it back, we should...” Her voice trailed off. “Never mind. Just keep your secrets, okay?”

  Gemma turned.

  “I'm serious!” Barbara hisses, grabbing her hand for a moment before letting go. “Don't sell us out. It won't do any good anyway, you know he never shows mercy.”

  Gemma paused for a moment, aware of the hush that had fallen across the hall. The other women would be all talk soon, but for now they were respectfully silent. The routine was the same every day. She knew that as soon as she went with the guard and disappeared up toward the governor's office, everyone would start talking again, chattering excitedly and placing bets on whether she'd make it back. Deep down, though, in the pit of her belly, she'd always known that when her name was finally called, it would be the day she died. She just wasn't the kind of person who ever experienced good luck.

  Not that surviving would be good luck, anyway. Maybe, she figured, despite the fear in her chest, it was better to just get the whole thing over with.

  “Roper!” the guard yelled. “Get your sorry ass up here! Now! He's waiting!”

  ***

  “Roper,” the Governor said calmly as she was led into his office a few minutes later. “What excellent luck you have. I'm so pleased to see your pretty face again.”

  She glanced over at him and saw that he was standing by a desk in the corner, loading a handgun. Flinching, she hesitated for a moment and then instinctively turned to walk out, only to find the guard blocking her way. She knew there was no way back, that hundreds or even thousands of girls before her had faced the same test in the same room, but still her mind was racing, trying desperately to think of something she could do to slip out of this fate.

  “You can't leave yet,” the Governor continued. “We haven't had our fun yet. You do know how this works, don't you? There's a fifty-fifty chance that you'll be able walk out of here this morning without a scratch.”

  Turning, Gemma looked across the room and saw two chairs waiting on either side of a drain in the middle of the floor. One of the chairs, blood-stained already, was empty, but on the other there sat a girl she recognized all too well. Monica Sidden, the girl whose name had been called at breakfast two days ago, and who now sat terrified and stiff, staring straight ahead as her whole body shivered. For a moment, Gemma could barely believe that this was the same girl she'd heard laughing and joking just a couple of days earlier. She remembered that moment forty-eight hours ago, when it had been Monica's name that had been called during breakfast. She hated herself for it, but Gemma remembered feeling relieved that she'd been spared.