The Best of Horror Library: Volumes 1-5

by Bentley Little

  “Who would you pick?” Patrick asked out of the blue.

  “What?” Sarah and I replied at the same time.

  “Who would you pick? You know, if they came to our house and left their mark.”

  “It’s just a story,” I said, beginning to feel exasperated.

  “But just for fun, if you had to choose, which one of us would you send away?”

  “The one who asked too many stupid questions.”

  “Stephen,” Sarah scolded. “Daddy didn’t mean that, he was just trying to be funny.”

  “Well I’m serious,” Patrick said. “I want to know. Which of us would you pick?”

  “Yeah, Dad. Which of us would you send to the monsters?” Kim piped in.

  “Now they’re monsters, eh? I thought they were garbage collectors.”

  “Funny dad,” Kim said without a smile.

  “Look you two, it’s just a story. But for the sake of an argument, if it was true, I would refuse to give either of you up.”

  “Supposedly you don’t have a choice,” Patrick said. “One of the kids in my class told me a family tried that once and barricaded themselves in their house.”

  “And what happened?” I asked, keeping an eye on the road.

  “The neighbors made the choice. They broke down the door and took one of the kids to the dump themselves.”

  “Is that what you heard, Kim?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” she said. “It’s just a stupid story, right?”

  “Of course, Pumpkin.”

  “You know something, Stephen?” Sarah said. “I know we’ve only been here around a week, but now that I think about it, everyone I’ve met so far has two kids.”

  “Not you, too.”

  “Don’t you find it strange?”

  “You’re not helping the matter here, Hon. Have you seen any signs for an exit yet?”

  “No I haven’t,” she said. “And it’s getting late. The sun’s already starting to set, and we should have hit the city limits a long time ago.”

  “Maybe we missed it when we were all talking,” I suggested, trying to sound optimistic.

  “Patrick,” Sarah asked suddenly. “What happens to the child who’s left behind?”

  “Sarah.” It was my turn to be indignant.

  “It’s okay Dad,” Patrick said. “The kid that’s left is given some sort of special powers.”

  “And what is this special power?” I asked, no longer hiding the fact that I was getting tired of all this.

  “They wouldn’t tell me,” Patrick said.

  “What about you Kim?”

  “Same thing. They wouldn’t tell me, but they said it’s worth it and the family goes away to a wonderful place.”

  “A wonderful place, eh?” I muttered, tapping the steering wheel in agitation.

  “Yeah, to make room for a new family,” Kim said. “That’s why you never see a family with only one kid.”

  “Jesus, Stephen. Step on the gas and get us out of here. This whole thing is starting to freak me out,” Sarah pleaded.

  I accelerated and took another look into the rearview mirror only to see the heartbreaking sight of my son crying quietly in the backseat. Rage began to flow through me again like a freight train. I couldn’t recall feeling like this for some time. I’d battled with my anger management problems before and beaten it, so what the hell was wrong with me now? And where was the damn restaurant?

  The sun was below the tree line, and I was sure we should be well out of the city limits by now, but the highway kept going on and on. There weren’t even any bends in the road anymore, just straight highway as far as the eye could see. Once again the car fell silent and I wondered what everyone else was thinking. The fact I couldn’t reassure them everything was going to be okay drove me crazy, but not half as much as the thought that all this could be true.

  And the road went on.

  We’d been driving for hours and nothing in the scenery had changed. There were no longer any other cars on the road either. Sarah had stopped badgering me to turn around and sat in her seat, mute, gazing out the window at seemingly the same trees we’d been passing for hours. Both Patrick and Kim were asleep in the backseat. What the hell was going on?

  I felt like I was going to be sick, but there was no way I’d go see that therapist again. The thought of it got me even more upset.

  “Sarah, are you still awake?” I asked, needing the comfort of another voice.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Do you want me to turn around?”

  “I want you to tell me what’s happening,” she said with tears in her eyes. She looked into the backseat at the loves of her life.

  “I have no answers,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “This can’t be happening. This is all just some mistake, right?”

  “I just don’t know any more,” I replied.

  “Then let’s just go back. We’re not getting anywhere. Besides, once we get home we can call someone outside the city and get help.”

  “And what are we going to say?” I asked, sounding a bit more sarcastic than I’d meant.

  “Let’s just go home,” she said.

  I slowed the car down and looked at the dashboard clock. It was past eleven o’clock. My God, we’d been driving for almost five hours. This was madness. I decided we must have missed the exit. I did a quick shoulder check and turned the car around, heading back into town. My eyes felt heavy and I wondered if I’d be able to make it all the way without falling asleep at the wheel. As I drove along the dark, deserted highway I tried to find flaws in the stories the kids had told, but with what we’d experienced so far, I couldn’t. I thought about my office co-workers and how they’d all seemed like good, decent people. I couldn’t see any of them buying into this crap. I pictured each individual I’d met at the office and recalled how they’d all spoken with love when it came to their children.

  The memory hit me like a tidal wave. Everyone I’d spoken with had shown me pictures of their two kids.

  Two kids.

  Just as my eyes started to close from exhaustion, I spotted lights ahead. I glanced at the dashboard clock again and saw we’d only been driving for about ten minutes in this direction. How come we hadn’t noticed the lights earlier? I focused on the lights as we drove toward them.

  I looked over at Sarah, but she was asleep. I decided to wait until we reached the restaurant before I woke them. I couldn’t believe I’d started to buy into the kids’ stories. I let out a little chuckle. I drove into the lit area and my smile turned to a grimace of horror when I recognized where we were. We hadn’t found the exit at all. We were back in the town we’d been trying to escape. I looked at the dashboard clock and calculated the drive which took almost five hours one way took only fifteen minutes on the way back. I wanted to scream in frustration, but held it in for the sake of my family. Looking over at Sarah beside me and my two precious, sleeping children, I felt lost.

  I exited the highway and found myself on the main street. I followed it through town, passing businesses and restaurants. As I drove along, the street became busier with other cars and people. Everything looked and seemed so normal. Just your average citizens going about their usual business. What was I expecting, I wondered? Should they all be wearing Druid costumes or something more befitting of a city that gave up their own?

  I saw the sign I’d been looking for and turned left. I followed the road until it turned to dirt and continued on. I had a purpose now, because it just occurred to me, today was garbage day.

  I followed the dirt road which became more and more bumpy. The road lead into a dense forest, and the trees were close to the road and seemed to grab out at the car as it passed by. Visibility became worse. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. I looked around at my family, but they were still asleep so I kept driving.

  Finally, I saw a clearing ahead. I slowed down and took another look at the dashboard clock. It was a few minutes before midnight. There was a bend in
the road ahead so I slowed down. In the glimmer of the headlights I saw the sign.

  Town Dump.

  I stopped the car to stare at it for a moment, then continued around the bend.

  There it was.

  A fiery glow from behind one of the mounds of trash lit up the area around it. I saw movement ahead and squinted my eyes in an attempt to see better. In the soft light of the dump’s eerie glow, I spotted the woman who lived in the house which had had the packed van. I didn’t think she’d noticed me, so I turned the lights off and drove a bit closer. She wasn’t alone. Her husband was there as well. They were both looking at something on the other side of the fence.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered in horror, following their gaze.

  Inside the dump’s compound, a young boy around the same age as Patrick stared through the fence. The boy faced the two of them, rattling the gates, trying desperately to get out.

  Their child?

  Through the car window, I could hear the boy crying and pleading with the couple to let him out. The woman cried as well, but the man held her firm. I watched the boy beg for his parent’s help while turning his head around constantly as if to see if something was coming up behind him.

  I wasn’t sure what to do. Instinctively, I wanted to plow my car through the gate and rescue the boy. If I ran down the parents, so much the better. But I had my own family to think of. This whole thing was insane.

  At that moment the fiery glow brightened, lighting almost the entire area. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pleading boy who now shook the fence even harder. The boy was in a frenzy. He tried to climb the fence, but something was preventing him from doing so. Something else caught my eye. From behind the glowing mounds of garbage, dark figures began to emerge.

  I watched them in horror, but dragged my eyes away to look back at the boy. The young boy tried desperately to dig under the fence with his fingers, always looking behind him.

  To my shock I noticed the parents walking away, turning their backs on their own flesh and blood. I felt nauseated and my head began to spin. There were too many emotions going through me at once, and I felt as if I were going to go mad.

  The black figures closed in on the boy. He was back on his feet shaking the gate with both his little hands and calling out for his mother. A switch seemed to go off in my head and before I knew what I was doing, I had the headlights back on and the car speeding toward the gate. The boy started to run, the black ghouls closing in on him. Why hadn’t I acted sooner? I continued to drive faster at a good ramming speed.

  As the gate approached, my car’s headlights lit the area ahead of me. I saw the terrified boy running as fast as his little legs could carry him over and around the garbage heaps, trying desperately to get away. The boy stumbled, and before he could scramble back to his feet, the black forms were on him. Unable to watch it any longer, I swung the car around, but it was too late. The image of the little boy was forever burned into my memory. I felt tears well up and I choked down the scream building up within me. Once again I was overcome with a myriad of emotions. But one emotion stormed to the top of the heap.

  Rage.

  I turned the car around and drove away trying desperately to work out a plan to protect my family. I spotted the parents of the little boy walking glumly along the side of the road. They didn’t even turn when the headlights illuminated them. Just as well, I thought, as I gave the car a little gas and slammed into them. I didn’t want to see their faces when I killed them anyway. I hated them for not warning me about the dump.

  I hated them all.

  I turned on the windshield wipers and gave a few quick bursts of wiper fluid to clean off the splattered blood now covering the glass.

  I looked down at the dashboard clock. It was well after midnight.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah asked, startling me.

  “Sorry Hon. Did I wake you?”

  “No, I think I was having a nightmare. Where are we?” she said, still half asleep.

  “While you were dozing, lazybones, I found our mysterious exit,” I lied. “We must have passed it while we were telling our ghost stories. Everything’s fine,” I tried desperately to gain control of the rage I’d let loose.

  “Why do you have the windshield wipers on?” she said. “Did it rain?”

  “No, we hit an animal. It ran out from the woods, and I didn’t see it in time.”

  “Are we almost home?” she said as if she hadn’t heard my last statement.

  “Yep. I just wanted to go check out the dump first,” I answered.

  “The dump?” she repeated, still half asleep.

  “Yeah, it’s just a dump. Nothing unusual there. I just had to see for myself.”

  “And you found the city limit and the exit we were looking for?”

  “Yes and we can come and go from the city anytime we want. Just like I said.”

  That was all the reassuring she needed as she fell back into her interrupted sleep. I drove home and parked in the driveway. I nudged Sarah awake, and we scooped up the kids and put them safely into their beds.

  “I guess I still owe you guys a dinner,” I said with a smirk as we walked into the bedroom.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll remind you,” she said, smiling back at me. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Are you coming to bed?”

  “In a bit. I just want to check out the front of the car and clean whatever blood’s still on there. Don’t want to freak out the kids tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay, don’t stay up too late.” Sarah got into bed. “Won’t be long before you have to get up again.”

  “I’ll be up soon.” I walked over to the bed and gave her a soft kiss on the lips.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Just for being the best wife a guy could have.”

  I stopped in the washroom where I threw some cold water on my face and took a good long look at myself. I wasn’t sure I liked what I saw. I walked into Kim’s room and looked at her for a moment. I smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before going into Patrick’s room and doing the same.

  “Goodnight slugger,” I said, and with tears in my eyes I walked from the room.

  I went downstairs and followed the back hallway past the laundry room to the garage door. I stood there for a minute before finally opening it and stepping inside. I turned the light on, crossed the garage, and began clearing a spot on my workbench. I spotted the locked metal box I was looking for and carefully took it down from its resting place. I unlocked it with a key from my key ring and opened the box.

  The revolver gleamed.

  I took out the bullets, kissing each one of them before loading them into the gun.

  I held the gun in my hands as I knelt and prayed, tears streaming down my face. Afterward I stood up and slowly walked to the door that led into the house. I turned off the garage light, opened the door, and entered the house.

  For the last time.

  Bound

  by Alan Smale

  Day after day they threw him into the sky, arms strapped to his sides, legs straight and lashed together with tight cord. The rough cloth of the bindings abraded his neck and wrists where his jumpsuit did not protect his pale skin. Layer upon layer of bandages prevented him from bending his legs or curling up into a ball. Bundled as tightly as any Chinese child, he was immobilized and helpless.

  The schoolyard was paved with black asphalt and marked in fading yellow paint with the rectangular grid pattern of a game he couldn’t identify. Not soccer. Not tennis or field hockey. The schoolyard was enclosed on three sides by a tall wall of brick, crested with slate and concrete. A soot-blackened church with a high steeple defined the fourth side of the square.

  Bound and rigid, they threw him. He turned end over end, or spun like a top, or drifted stably to the peak of his narrow arc with a clear view of the sky, wall, or pavement. It all depended on the angle of his previous bounce, the spin imparted by the blanket they used to toss him, and the skill of the thirteen
people who held the blanket, but they never cast him high enough to see over the wall.

  When he flew up—terror. When he dropped back towards earth—frantic terror. Especially if he could not see the ground beneath, and did not know how far and fast he was falling, or whether the blanket remained stretched below him. He could neither help nor hinder, steer nor protect himself.

  He was at their mercy.

  His memory of his life before the schoolyard was hazy. He thought his surname might be Jackson, but perhaps this was a pun created by his subconscious: Jumping Jackson, muttered a sarcastic voice in his head. Jumping Jackson.

  They’d toss him into space again and again, until he was close to vomiting. Somehow they could tell when his equilibrium was failing and stop the punishment. That was a shame. Puking over them would have been a kind of revenge; petty and gross, perhaps, but there was little else he could do to discomfit his tormenters. Also, he was curious to know what they were feeding him.

  They wore overalls and hoods of plain black, and ski-masks to obscure their features. Always thirteen of them, but not always the same ones. Of any given group, between six and ten seemed familiar in build or body language. He’d hear whispers from his memory—this one perhaps a parent, that one a brother, here a lover, there a child, maybe a friend from college. Of course, he couldn’t recall their names any more than he could be sure of his own, nor could he picture their faces. Yet he was firmly convinced that he was not being tortured by strangers.

  As he arced upwards once more, Jumping Jackson thought perhaps today was the seventh since he had arrived here. A week of being hurled into the sky within these schoolyard walls.

  “Is…this the seventh day?” His feet hit the blanket first, and then the rest of his body. It took the whole of the next bounce for him to draw enough breath to finish his question. “Six days…oomph…before today?”

  None answered, yet as he spun he saw one of them flick her head towards him so familiarly that he wanted to kiss her, or slap her. Distracted, she did not pull her weight on the next flip, and he spun crazily across the sky, his view a blur. The blanket crew had to skip back several feet to be in place to catch him and whiz him upward again, this time so high that he almost came level with the wall’s parapet—but not quite, not quite.