by Sam Sisavath
Eleven minutes later, Megan groaned and said, “Give it up. He’s never going to learn.”
“I don’t give up. You can ask anyone, and they’ll tell you, ‘That guy doesn’t know how to give up.’”
“I think there’s a word for that.”
“Resilience.”
“Nah, I think it’s something else. Starts with an S.”
“Stupendous?”
“Definitely not that, either.”
“What do you know, you’re only ten.”
“My birthday’s in two weeks. What’re you gonna get me?”
He smiled. Leave it to Megan to shift topics without batting an eye. “Why should I get you anything?”
“It’s tradition.”
“People make new traditions these days. Ever heard of the phrase ‘Out with the old, in with the new?’”
“No. Sounds stupid. Besides, I like the old ones better. So what’re you gonna get me?”
“You’ll see.”
“You got me something already?” she asked, not quite able to hide the sudden rise in excitement in her voice.
“You’ll see,” he said again.
Keo held up a piece of bread to let the dog see. It was a scruffy-looking thing—mostly brown fur with patches of white—and its nose was already wet before it wandered out of the woods and into his yard. Someone once told him that a dog with a wet nose meant it was a happy one.
“Sit,” Keo said.
The dog cocked its head to one side and gave him a long, curious look.
“Sit,” Keo said again.
“It’s never going to sit,” Megan said. “You should give up.”
“I never give up.”
“So you keep saying. But it’s less about you and more about the dog, isn’t it?”
He smirked. “Fancy English, for a kid.”
“My English teacher is pretty good.”
“Brian, Grace’s dad?”
“Uh huh. You remembered.”
“It happens.” Keo held up the piece of bread in front of the dog again. “Sit.”
The dog licked its lips, then lay down on its chin and began licking other parts of itself.
“Yuck,” Megan said.
Keo tossed the bread next to the dog. The animal gobbled it up, then went back to enjoying itself.
“Gross,” the girl said.
“It’s only doing what feels good. It’s natural.”
“Doesn’t make it any less gross.”
“So, eleven in two weeks, huh?”
“Uh huh. What’re you gonna get me?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see what I can find in the woods.”
She frowned. “So you didn’t actually get me anything yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I was hoping for something less dirty.”
“Oh, were you now?”
“Maybe something you might have gotten from the big cities while you were out there.”
There it is again. I told you the girl wasn’t going to give up, Emma.
“What do you know about the big cities?” he asked.
“I know they’re still out there. That there are people in them.”
“Who told you that?”
“Lots of people. Some who’ve even been there. Like you.”
“The cities are better left forgotten, wonsungi.”
“What’s that mean anyway?”
“What?”
“What you always call me. Wha-what?”
He smiled. “Wonsungi.”
“Yeah, that.”
“It means monkey.”
“Monkey?”
“My mom used to call me that.”
“Why?”
“I was like you. I liked climbing trees when I was younger. I was pretty good at it, too.”
“As good as me?”
“Better.”
“I dunno. I’m pretty good.”
He chuckled. “Maybe you’re right. You might just be a better monkey than me. Happy?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, and seemed to think about it for a moment. Then, “Why are the cities better left forgotten?”
“They’re dangerous, that’s why.”
“Even to you?” she asked, looking over at him.
He nodded. “Even to me.”
“Why?”
“Because besides assholes with guns and too much time on their hands, there are giant buildings filled with chemicals and other volatile goop with names as long as your arm and mine, just sitting around waiting to spring a leak. When that happens, everything goes boom and people die.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“I’ve seen the aftermath. Trust me when I say you don’t want to go anywhere near the big cities. There’s nothing in them for you but trouble.”
She seemed to think about it for a moment. Then, finally, “What else about the big cities scare you?”
“Did I mention the crazies with guns?”
“Not ghouls?”
“There aren’t a lot of them around anymore, but there are still plenty of people. Trust me when I say this, kid; these days, the most dangerous thing you have to look out for are the creatures on two feet.”
“Grace’s father says sometimes the ghouls walk on two feet. He said they have blue eyes. Glowing blue eyes.”
Keo didn’t say anything.
“Have you seen them?” Megan asked.
Yes, I have, Keo thought, but he said, “Just make sure you don’t trust people you don’t know. It’s dangerous out there. More than you know.”
She nodded before tracing a dirty finger along the side of her face. “Is that where you got that? In the cities?”
Keo grunted. There were a lot of things in this life he couldn’t outrun, and one of them was the big scar that ran down almost the entire left side of his face. It was a gift from a man named Pollard. That man, like so many others who had crossed Keo’s path, was no longer among the living, but he had certainly left his mark while he was around, that was for damn sure.
Enjoying hell, Pollard? You and your kid? Good.
“You were really there, weren’t you?” Megan asked after he didn’t say anything for a while. “Houston? You were in Houston before The Walk Out.”
“Yeah,” Keo nodded.
“What was it like?”
He thought about it. Finally, he said, “It smelled.”
She waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, “That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
She frowned. Apparently, she had expected more of a story.
She was right—there was more to the story—but Keo didn’t feel like telling it. Houston was the past, and just like most of his past, he preferred not to relive it because they inevitably brought back memories he’d rather push into the background.
He stood up to stretch instead and stared past the tall tree crowns at the sun in the distance. Afternoons—the brighter and warmer the better—were always his favorite time of the day, though they didn’t always use to be.
“She does that, too,” Megan was saying.
“What’s that?” Keo asked.
“She stares at the sun. Sometimes her face would get really dark in the evenings and she reminds me that the night is still dangerous, that there are still things hiding in the woods waiting for some stupid kid to wander inside so they can gobble them up. That’s why we always lock all our doors and make sure the windows are closed tight, every single night.”
“You should listen to her.”
“I do.” Then, without a single hint, she shifted topics on him again. “How come you don’t live with us?”
Ah, there it is.
“Your mom never asked me to,” he said.
“That’s because she doesn’t want you to say no.”
“What makes her think I’ll say no?”
She shrugged. “She’s just careful.”
So am I, Keo thought, and said, “We never talked about it.”
“You should move in,” the girl said, looking at the dog as it went to work on a dirty patch of fur along its hind legs.
Keo smiled. The way she had said that, “You should move in,” like it was a statement of fact and not a question.
But it wasn’t that simple for him. Out here, by himself, with only the cabin behind him to worry about, things were simpler. It didn’t pay to become too attached to things, places, and most of all, people. It hadn’t paid before The Purge, and it really hadn’t paid during it, and it still didn’t now.
He sat back down next to her. “We’ll see.”
“You should move in before my birthday,” Megan said. “You already spend most of your time at our place anyway. Also, Mom smiles more when you’re around. She doesn’t think I notice, but I do.”
Going in for the kill, huh, kid?
He admired her persistence, but he said, “We’ll see what happens.”
“My birthday’s in two weeks.”
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“Just in case you forgot.”
“I haven’t.”
“I know. Just in case. Get me something good, okay?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Keo said, when two figures stepped out of the surrounding woods and into his front yard.
Ah, dammit, Keo thought as Jim and his deputy, Duncan, led their horses over by the reins.
Like his boss, Duncan wore a simple khaki uniform with his name stenciled on his chest and sported a gun belt. But instead of a six-shooter like Jim, the rangy twenty-something wore a 1911 pistol.
“Keo,” Jim said.
“Jim,” Keo said. He exchanged a courtesy nod with Duncan. “What brings you guys out here?”
“Just out for a stroll,” Jim said.
Yeah, right. Out for a stroll, my ass.
Megan hopped off the slightly raised porch, brown leaves crunching loudly under her Nike sneakers as she landed. “I gotta be getting home anyway, before Mom puts together a search party. See ya.”
“See ya, wonsungi,” Keo said.
She said to the dog, “Come on, boy!”
“I don’t think he’s going—” Keo said when the dog snapped up to its feet and jogged after her. “Or maybe he will.”
“Tell your mom I said hi,” Duncan said as Megan passed him.
“Sure, whatever,” the girl said, before jogging into the woods.
“I don’t think she likes me,” Duncan said to Keo.
“Nah, that’s just how she treats everyone she likes,” Keo said.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
Keo shrugged. “Probably not.”
“Still haven’t fixed that yet?” Jim asked, nodding at the cabin’s broken window.
“I got an extra hammer, if you’re interested in helping out.”
“Maybe after we’re done.”
As smooth as molasses on silk, Jim, Keo thought, and said, “After we’re done with what, Sheriff?”
Jim glanced back as if to make sure Megan was really gone. Then, turning back to Keo, “We found them.”
“Them who?” Keo asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Ghouls,” Duncan said. “A whole nest of ’em.”
Keo sighed. He had a feeling Jim wasn’t going to give up after their chat last night.
“What exactly do you guys want from me?” Keo asked.
THREE
KEO DIDN’T WANT to go with them, but he did anyway. Besides, they had a point when they said ghouls in the area were a danger to everyone in town, including Emma and Megan. But especially the girl, who regularly walked across the woods alone to see him at his cabin after school. Not that ghouls were any kind of a threat in the daytime, but Keo had seen how something small, like a single nest, could balloon into something bigger.
At least, that’s why he told himself he was doing it.
“You sure you don’t want a horse?” Jim asked.
Keo nodded. “I’m good.”
“What do you have against horses?” Duncan asked.
“Nothing,” Keo said. “I just don’t like riding anything bigger than me.”
“We can get you a pony.”
“Funny. You’re a regular comedian, Duncan. Duncan Comedian. That should be your stage name.”
The deputy chuckled. “I’m just messing with you, Keo. Don’t take it too personally.”
“The last person who told me not to take something too personally hasn’t said a word since.”
“Oooh, tough guy.” Duncan snorted, but Keo noticed that he snuck a wary glance in his direction.
Keo smiled and kept walking.
They had been moving through the woods around Winding Creek for the last hour or so, and by Keo’s guess they were almost on the other side, with the farms and the stream that provided the town with all of its water nearby. It made sense that the ghouls would target the areas around the farms—that was where the livestock, the easier of the two types of prey (humans being the other), were.
It was around two in the afternoon when they finally reached their destination: a rundown shack smaller than the one Keo was currently living in. He knew of its existence because he had scouted this part of the woods long before he decided Winding Creek was worth taking a look at. There were three other habitable buildings in the area that had long been abandoned, and any one of them would have made just as good a nesting place.
They approached the house from the front, the two lawmen on horseback and Keo on foot. Keo was mindful of the tall grass around him, signs that no one had bothered to maintain the property for a few years now. The dead giveaway that someone (something) occupied the building were the filthy white blankets over the two windows flanking the door, blocking out the only thing the ghouls feared more than silver weapons—sunlight.
Jim climbed off his horse and tied the reins to a low-hanging branch. “Phil found one of his goats about half a mile from his property. It was all chewed up; looked like they’d been sucking on it for days. He didn’t notice it was missing until this morning and went looking for it.”
Keo didn’t have to look far to see evidence that someone—more than someone, actually, but someones—had been going back and forth from the cabin and the surrounding woods. Grass had been trampled, stepped over, and footprints led to the front door where clumps of dirt, some still damp, remained. The prints hadn’t been made by a human being—or, at least, nothing that was still one. They might have been mistaken for bare feet if he didn’t look closely enough or recognize their deformed nature. There were old specks of blood, dark black under the sunlight, but not enough to really notice if he wasn’t already looking for them. That would be animal blood, or whatever it was the creatures had been dining on. Ghoul blood, like the undead things themselves, evaporated in sunlight.
He reached behind him and pulled out his SIG Sauer. He’d grabbed his knife before leaving his place, and it sat snugly on his left hip. Keo assumed both lawmen checking their own weapons next to him were also carrying the right weapons, not that he’d taken the time to make sure. They might have been insulted if he had; he knew he would if someone had asked him. Everyone was armed with silver weapons these days. Even Emma carried a knife with a silver-edged blade on her at all times.
“Ever thought about carrying something with more rounds?” Keo asked, nodding at Jim’s six-shooter.
“That’s why I brought this along,” Jim said, pulling a sawed-off shotgun from a scabbard hanging off his horse’s saddle. He grabbed a handful of shells and stuffed them into his pants pockets.
“Silver buckshot?”
“Of course,” the sheriff said. “You?”
Keo nodded. “Of course.”
The older man turned to face the cabin. “So, how are we going to do this?”
“You’re asking me?”
Jim shrugged. “This is the first ghoul nest we’ve had in five years. We figured you’d have more experience
taking them on.”
“Well, it’s not rocket science. We could just burn the place down like you did last time, but that might start a fire, and no one wants that.”
“Nope. Too close to the farms.”
“Uh huh. So let’s just knock on the door and see what happens.”
Duncan grunted. “Oh, I got a pretty good idea what’s going to happen.”
“Got a better idea, Deputy?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Then less talking, more knocking,” Keo said, and began walking toward the cabin.
The lawmen hurried to catch up, Jim walking to his left, while Duncan took his right.
You’re doing this for Emma and Megan. Remember that.
It’s a one and doner.
There was a metal security gate over the door, but it was hanging off two of its top hinges. Keo grabbed one of the rusted-over bars and pulled it back. The gate made a loud creaking sound, like something out of a bad horror movie.
Jim reached over and took the gate from Keo, allowing him to square up in front of the door. The slab of wood was dark brown, with a latch for a handle, and nothing resembling a doorknob. It looked thick enough that Keo was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to kick it open, so he didn’t even try. Instead, he pushed down on the latch and the door swung open with—unlike the gate over it—almost no sound at all.
He heard movement just before he saw them scurrying in the darkness inside. It was pitch-black, thanks to the blankets over the windows, and Keo gave himself a few seconds to let his eyes adjust.
He was still working on that when Duncan slipped past him and into the building and began shooting.
“Duncan!” Jim shouted, but he was about a second too late.
Keo sighed and pushed the door all the way in and followed Duncan inside. The deputy was still firing his 1911 Colt at a creature as it attempted to flee into a back hallway. It took three bullets, but one finally found its target and the ghoul—it was small, just barely bigger than Megan—seemed to slide before dropping, and lay still on the filthy floor.
Everything about the cabin’s great room was dirty, with sheets of dust swarming them as soon as Keo took the first step inside, the rustic wood creaking loudly under his boots. The thunderous bang! bang! of Duncan’s shots shook loose even more layers of dirt from the ceiling, and those landed on top of them.