The Ultimate Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Bestsellers)

by Perkins, Cathy

  Kole paused. He knew most of the story was procrastination. He pushed through, without a choice. “I never saw her. Well, that’s not true. I stood over her dying body punched with seventeen bullet holes, but I never saw her before that. Was it my gun? Hoppy’s gun? The motherfucking puta that emptied his clip in the park? It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  Samuel waited, understanding that Kole was not looking for an answer.

  “Her mom was in shock. She kept tugging at the girl’s backpack, trying to brush the blood off of it like it had simply fallen in the dirt. She brushed her daughter’s hair back and ignored the hole that oozed black blood from her forehead. The scum that tried ripping us off bolted, and that’s probably what kept Hoppy and me from getting pinched for it. Everyone in the park fingered the dark-skinned fellas with machine guns strapped to their backs, fleeing the park at a full sprint. Hoppy and me, we just kinda walked out. We shoved our handguns into our waistbands and shuffled through the crowd with the same look of terror that everyone else had.

  “The court never got a chance to put them, or us, on trial. That mom never got a chance to speak her mind on her dead daughter’s behalf. Is it justice? Maybe. The cops caught up to them three blocks and ten minutes later. Put over sixty rounds in each of the thugs.”

  The train accelerated. Samuel felt the windows vibrate, and looked down at the rock piles now blurring past in the darkness. Hundreds of white pinpoints appeared in the otherwise-black canvas.

  “I think Hoppy met his match under a bridge about a year later. He thought he was getting a ten-dollar blowjob, but it turned into a switchblade to the gut. They say it takes a long time to bleed out that way. That it’s painful. I hope it was. That fucker deserved to die like a pig.”

  “Something is happening with the train,” Samuel said. “It’s speeding up.”

  Kole shook his head. “We ain’t got much time. I think you know all you need to know about me.”

  “Except how you got here,” replied Samuel.

  “C’mon, man. Do I have to spell it all out for you?”

  Samuel waited.

  “After the deal went south and I parted ways with Hoppy, I went from King Shit to your average street junkie. I tried killing myself with that stuff. Man, did I try. But I ran out of money before I could finish the job. I got real low, as if having that little girl’s blood on my hands wasn’t low enough. I started doing shit for money, shit I’m not proud of.”

  Samuel raised his eyebrows.

  “Sucking dick, okay? Not like it matters that I’m telling you this now. You don’t even know me. But yeah, that’s what I had to do to get my money for blow. Blow for blow.” Kole watched Samuel stifle a snicker. “It’s cool, man. I was making a joke.”

  Kole waited for Samuel to stop smiling before he continued. “It’s never across, always with. The movies get it wrong. Slicing with the vein will almost always guarantee a tub full of blood.”

  The train jerked to the left, and then to the right. Kole extended both arms toward Samuel, turning his forearms upside down.

  “So you pulled it off, the tub full of blood?” Samuel asked.

  “You tell me, hotshot. I’m here with you, the old man, and the skinny emo chick. This place ain’t home, and it’s being eaten by a fucking cloud while zombies parade around the cabin that wild wolves left to rot. Did I pull it off?”

  Samuel stared at Kole’s face until he blinked. When his eyes reopened, he saw the crusty, hard, wood floor of the cabin and the wall he faced on his makeshift bunk.

  ***

  Major stood at the window, his back facing the others in a cabin that felt more cramped with each passing hour. He shifted from one leg to the next, muttering underneath his breath and drawing diagrams in the air. Samuel looked at Mara. She smiled, legs crossed on the chair. He felt the twinge in his chest as their eyes met. She was so young. It wouldn’t matter unless he was a college professor and she was a second-semester freshman. He could see Mara, dreamy eyed and optimistic. But this was not a campus, and he was not a professor. He let go of her gaze and turned to face Kole. He had run out of charcoal and so resumed drawing figures in the dust. Kole winked at Samuel and dropped his chin. Samuel raised his eyebrows and turned away.

  “Thousands, probably,” said Major.

  Samuel stood and walked over to him. He used his elbow to smear the greasy film from the windowpane and stooped to look out.

  The human forms clumped like cattle in anticipation of a thunderstorm. They stood underneath trees and out in the open. The lonely figures canted to one side, always leaning toward the west and the oncoming force of destruction. Others grouped together, huddled in their rags, with colorless faces. Samuel stared, thinking that the creatures could be confused for statues. He didn’t see them move but realized that they had to have arrived there somehow. The Barren no longer stretched open and clear to the tree line; now the silent forms hid the ground from view.

  “Are they planning an attack?” Mara asked from the chair, one hand circling and rubbing her other wrist.

  “I think they’re guardians. Going to keep us in here, stand guard until the cloud can consume it all.”

  Samuel looked at Major’s face and grimaced at his response. “Pinning us down with sheer numbers?” he asked.

  “Could be.”

  Kole stood and threw a piece of kindling into the corner of the cabin. “I’m out,” he said, walking toward the door.

  Samuel stepped in front of him and spun so his back rested on the cool wood.

  “Nobody’s leaving,” Samuel said.

  “Outta my way, cowboy.”

  Samuel looked at Mara, then Major. Neither moved.

  “I can’t let you do that. If you go out there, who knows what they’ll do.”

  “Looks to me like they aren’t doing anything but making you shit your pants,” replied Kole. “Get out of my way before I knock you out.”

  Major nodded at Samuel. He stepped to the side and turned a palm up toward the doorknob.

  “Fine. Go right ahead.”

  Kole snickered. He bent his right arm at an angle and lifted it to kiss the bicep. “Smackdown.”

  Kole turned the knob, and Samuel heard the gasp from Major.

  The thousands of faces that had been staring at the ground turned up in one motion. Every form revealed a blank, dead gaze, their eyes nothing but eternal black marks, mouths open with tongues protruding like baby serpents.

  “Don’t,” Samuel said to Kole.

  Without a reply, Kole pulled the door the rest of the way open and stepped out on the porch. The creatures groaned in unison. Legs moved toward the cabin with the sounds of brittle bones snapping under the strain. Those standing alone pulsed, and the creatures in the packs shifted forward in a mass of grey, decaying flesh.

  Mara lunged for the door and slammed it shut. She threw herself against it, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

  “He’s sparked some interest,” Major said.

  Samuel moved back to the window and watched Kole take two steps off the porch. The bodies continued moving toward him. They marched at a slow pace, but with the certainty that their prey would never escape. Samuel looked deeper, toward the tree line, and saw wave after wave of the creatures coming out of the forest and making their way to Kole.

  Kole crouched, bent his knees, and raised his fist. He yelled something, but the sound was swallowed by the dying locality. The first two that came close to Kole wore men’s clothing. They extended their arms, thumbs touching. Their eyes locked on Kole, and their mouths opened and closed at irregular intervals. He cocked his right arm behind his ear and stepped into the punch. The form closest absorbed the strike, its head twisting with the force of it. The creature’s legs continued to propel it toward Kole. He reared back and struck the walking corpse two more times, each one sending a spray of skin and rotted cloth into the air but not stopping the forward momentum of the creature. Its fingers grasped Kole’s shoulder, while t
he second one grabbed his waist. Kole flailed, and the fight blurred into random bursts of motion. Others continued walking toward the altercation, including mobs that started beneath the trees and were replaced by more coming from the forest.

  “They’re going to tear him apart,” said Mara, the nail on her index finger secured between her teeth.

  “It’s what he wanted,” replied Major.

  Samuel shook his head and turned back to the fight in the yard. Four more creatures had made it to Kole.

  “Move,” he said to Mara.

  Samuel nudged her aside and opened the door. He heard the grunts of the creatures and the heavy breathing of Kole becoming buried in their reaching arms. He ran over and pulled on the shoulder of one. The creature turned, and Samuel froze. Its dead eyes stared into his, and he felt his heart stammer in his chest. The tongue writhed inches from Samuel’s face. He regained his composure and tossed the creature to the side, where it crumpled to the ground, struggling to regain a standing position. Samuel heard Kole gasp, but could not see the man beneath the pile of rotted flesh. He shoved a hand toward where he thought Kole might be.

  “Grab my hand,” he said as the battle raged in near silence.

  A colorful sleeve of tattoos reached out, snapping tight on Samuel’s wrist. He pulled until there was enough for him to grab Kole’s elbow with his other arm. Samuel dug his heels in and yanked again. Kole’s head emerged, his eyes frantic. With his free arm, Kole swatted at his attackers as if they were hornets from a crushed nest. Samuel took another step backward until the resistance dropped, sending him into the railing of the front porch. The impact knocked the air from his lungs. Kole landed on top of him. The door swung open, and Major and Mara each grabbed one of Kole’s arms and dragged him inside the cabin. They dropped him in a whimpering pile near the fire and went back for Samuel. Major spun and shut the door. He ran to the window and looked out. The forms involved in the fight had stopped moving, standing in place as the others halted their advance on the cabin, as if shut down by a master switch.

  “Are you okay?” Mara asked Kole.

  He brushed her hand aside and grabbed Samuel by the shirt collar. He turned his head to the side, trying to force the words over his hitching breath.

  “Thanks for nothing, asshole,” said Kole. He reached back and punched Samuel in the nose. Samuel saw the explosion of color in his field of vision and felt the warm flow of salty blood starting to ooze down his throat. Before he could wince in pain, he lost consciousness.

  Mara slapped Kole in the back of the head. He stood, wobbled to one side, and backhanded her across the face. The sharp slap bounced off the walls of the cramped cabin. She dropped to one knee, her hand massaging the red mark blooming on her cheek. Major stepped up, and Kole met him in the middle of the room.

  “Back off, old man,” he said.

  “Sit and calm down.”

  Kole looked at Major and then at Mara. He snickered and slumped down the wall to the floor, erasing his dust-drawn creations.

  “It don’t matter. Death by zombie or by Reversion. It’s all the same to me.”

  ***

  Samuel winced as he rolled over and sat up, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. The heel of his palm glanced off the bridge of his nose, and he felt the pain radiate through his entire body. His eyes watered, and he bit his lip. When his vision cleared, Samuel struggled to see past the swollen mess of his face. Major, Mara, and Kole sat in a circle on the rickety chairs, Major keeping one eye on the window and one on the situation in the Barren.

  Samuel stood and swayed, reaching out with both hands to grasp the wall and keep the room from spinning. Dried blood had caked in the creases of his face and stained his neck with dark, maroon lines. Samuel touched the bridge of his nose until the pain begin to blossom. He grabbed a chair and swung it around until it sat between Kole and Mara.

  “Sucker punch,” he mumbled to Kole.

  “Whatever,” Kole replied.

  “Are you okay?” Mara asked as she touched his forearm. “I mean from them, not your nose. That looks pretty bad too, though.”

  “Isn’t the first time I broke it. Probably won’t be the last.”

  Major glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to the window.

  “What did I miss while I was bleeding on the floor?”

  “More,” said Mara. “You can barely see anything but the tops of their disgusting heads. Filthy, stringy hair as far as you can see. They sway back and forth like long grass in the wind, but none of them move. It’s like they’re filling in the gaps so that we’re packed in here.”

  Samuel stooped and leaned over Mara to look out the window. He saw countless, empty, dead faces staring back in the maddening silence. Samuel thought it wouldn’t be so bad if they made noise, or screamed, or pounded on the door. The silence of the decaying locality combined with the ominous approach of the cloud overhead sent a chill up his spine.

  “They won’t move unless one of us tries to leave the cabin. Then their brittle bones shuffle ahead in one mass.”

  “The fuckers wanted a piece of me,” said Kole, never taking his eyes off the window.

  “No,” said Major. He shook his head. “They were holding you down. I don’t think they were trying to harm you.”

  “Nice to know I risked my ass and took a sucker punch to the nose for nothing.”

  Kole looked at Samuel’s nose and then at Mara. “Got your pity pussy all worked up. You should thank me for that.”

  Mara sent a glare of disgust toward him.

  Major pushed back on his chair until the front two legs came off the floor. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to fight through so many of those things, but I do know that if we don’t, the cloud will reach this cabin soon, and the Reversion will take us with it. If there is any hope of survival, we have to get out of here.”

  Mara reached out again and placed a hand on Samuel’s arm, while Kole shook his head and snickered under his breath.

  ***

  The fire smoldered over the coals, the heat failing to dispel the chill from the cabin as if the flame itself was losing its will to exist in the locality. Mara stirred a wooden ladle inside an iron pot with a steady, mindless motion while staring at the wall. Kole and Major sat next to each other on their respective chairs, shoulder to shoulder, casting long gazes across the undead landscape. Samuel walked over and stood next to Mara. He inhaled and recognized scent of her hair, and thought that when the Reversion dulled the rest of his senses, he might lose his mind. A chuckle escaped his lips as the term “cabin fever” rolled around in his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “So you laugh at random times about nothing? Are you psychotic?”

  “I remembered a phrase that made me laugh, that’s all,” replied Samuel.

  Kole stole a glance over one shoulder and decided that the rotten horde was more interesting than Samuel and Mara’s conversation.

  “Do you remember stuff?” Samuel asked.

  Mara stopped stirring and let the ladle rest against the side. “More than I care to,” she replied.

  “I get snapshots. I see a picture from my past, and the story fills in around it. One second, my past doesn’t exist, and the next, an image brings back a chunk of it.”

  Mara shrugged. “If this Reversion is really the end, and those things aren’t letting us out, I’m not sure it really matters. Not sure anything does.”

  “I agree,” he replied.

  “I don’t think this . . .,” said Mara, with an arm spinning to unfold the cabin, the Barren, the locality, the entire situation. “I don’t think this matters. It’s not in our control.”

  “Kind of depressing.”

  “Kind of true,” she replied.

  Major and Kole remained seated and silent, their eyes following the swaying bodies.

  Samuel felt a desire for privacy, a need to have Mara’s conversation all to himself. He looked about the cabin and i
ts four menacing walls, which seemed to creep in further toward the center. He remembered his dream and the conversation with Kole.

  “I think I need to rest,” he said to Mara.

  She nodded. Samuel balled a rucksack for a pillow and curled up in the corner, while the heat from the fire did little to comfort him.

  ***

  He opened his eyes to a bustle of activity. Glowing orbs of glass hung from a silver cable, warming the room with incandescent light. The strong, bitter aroma of roasted coffee filled every crevice. Burlap sacks that once held beans hung from the walls, decorated with stamps from their countries of origin. A behemoth, silver beast sat in one corner, rumbling as it kept the gourmet ice cream frozen. The machine on the counter whistled, and a barista coaxed the hot air into a frothy mix.

  A man with a black fedora sat in the corner, perched atop a three-legged stool like a pigeon on a skyscraper. He wore a maple-bodied acoustic guitar strapped across his torso, and his fingers moved across the frets, spilling blue notes and minor chords into the swirling mix of muted conversation and clanking dishes. Samuel recognized the melody, an old delta blues standard, but he could not place the song. A microphone jutted from the top of a stand, but the guitarist ignored its existence, his head down and swaying along with the swinging beat created by his right hand above the sound hole.

  Samuel looked down at a white mug on a table. A book and a folded newspaper sat askew, the newspaper dangling from the edge as if trying to escape. He could see the dark swirls in his chai latte as the steam climbed through the air. He noticed a half dozen other people involved in various solitary acts together. One woman bounced her head in rhythm to the song confined to her ear buds, ignoring the guitarist pouring his soul forth from the guitar. One man sat in the corner, a single chair at a small table facing the wall. He thumbed through a crumpled, dog-eared book. A young couple sat at a table across the room. They both wore safety pins for earrings and patches on their black leather jackets, declaring allegiance to long-dead punk bands. The man had his hands on the table face up, while the woman had hers inside of his, facedown. They gazed into each other’s faces, oblivious to everyone else in the room.