Greg looked down at the tall grass and spied a rock. It was in his hand and flying through the air before he had time to rationalize his actions. The rock was a little smaller than a baseball and flew out of his hand high and fast. A perfect shot. Half expecting the large creature to get smacked in the head and get knocked off the Sheriff’s shoulders, Greg’s jaw dropped. The hit had been a perfect throw right between the eyes, but that was just it. It wasn’t a hit at all. Like some type of phantom or ghostly plasma ghoul, the rock landed spot on and went through the front and out the back as if the creature weren’t even there. The rock thumped and skittered before disappearing on the ground in the tall grass behind the Sheriff.
Paralyzed in terror, Greg’s legs worked against him. He willed them to turn and climb the fence behind him, but nothing happened. The Sheriff shuffled closer.
“Stay back! Don’t make me hurt you!” Greg yelled.
The thing on the officer’s back sounded like it started to chuckle. Its teeth stopped chattering for a moment as it reared back in what looked like laughter.
Doc Minders finally made his way to the backyard. The thing on his back wasted no time. With a wet slurping pop, it took control. With his eyes rolled back and black slime sliding down the side of his face, Doc staggered forward. With the small wooden fence already mowed down by the much larger Sheriff, he staggered over the broken fence with ease. Between the Sheriff, who was slowly making it to the halfway point of the backyard, and Doc at the fence, Greg was cornered. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, another figure strode around the house to their location.
Greg was trapped.
At first, he couldn’t make out who this new person was in the darkness, but as they drew closer, closing in behind Doc, Greg gasped. It was Peggy Ann. She was one of them. She had one of those things on her too. That teeth grinding sound filled Greg’s ears as her eyes went up and back, giving way to pure white. Her mouth drooped loose. The black slime that was splattered across the side of her face was coming out of her mouth too. It was coming out of all of their mouths.
“Peggy Ann. No!” Greg called out, slowly backing up against the large fence behind him.
She didn’t respond. Like the others, she shuffled toward him through the tall grass. The way they were moving reminded Greg of the old zombies on those movies from the early 1980’s. Their arms were linked at their sides and their legs shuffled, barely lifting off the ground. The creatures on their shoulders swayed left and right above their heads in rhythm with each step forward. The creatures’ left arm was up and in each person’s head. Their other elongated arm hung long and low to the ground. The maggoty thing that existed in the end of the arm dragged in the tall grass. Bits of black sludge lightly seeped from the dragging maggoty tips. The grass in its wake smoked and sizzled from what bits of goo released from the slimy tips. The smell of sulfur and foul rotting gore filled the night air behind the seemingly abandoned house.
Clouds that had been blocking the light of the moon shifted in the sky. The darkness pushed back giving way to a washed out gray. Everything was illuminated. Still dark, but brighter.
Greg felt bile rising in his chest. Illuminated in the darkness, the things were hideous. His back suddenly pressed against the large wooden fence. Startled, he jumped. His heart raced with adrenaline.
Just when he was about to turn and start climbing the fence, the lead creature on the Sheriff’s shoulders raised its free arm from the grass. As it rose into the air even higher, more and more black goop started to spill out from its squirming tip. Greg swallowed hard, pressing as flat against the fence as he could. The creature’s long grayish arm pointed out at him, with the thick black slime dripped into the grass. Smoke rose from the ground. The grass was starting to catch fire. A splash of gore sprayed out, landing on Greg’s right pant leg. Steam rose from the fabric as it trickled through to the skin. The liquid burn that streaked his calf was what woke Greg up. It wasn’t until the sting of pain went up his leg and into the rest of his body that he even realized that he had been paralyzed in fear.
Without giving it a second though, Greg turned and jumped up the wooden fence and climbed over. Just before falling over to the other side he felt something hot and wet splash the back of his ass and the back of both his legs. When he hit the ground on the other side his lower half was steaming with smoke. Trying to ignore it he started running. The chatter of clanging teeth faded in the distance as he crossed the backyard he had just fallen into. He couldn’t handle the pain. He had to stop. But he needed to make it somewhere safer. Somewhere different. He rounded the side of the house and fell to the ground between the two houses.
His clothes were burning through to the skin.
“Ahhh, fuck!” Greg groaned, rolling over on his back and loosening his belt.
He kicked off his shoes and peeled the jeans away. His legs were dark red where the chemical had splashed. It was as if had just spent the entire afternoon at the beach and had forgotten to cover his legs in sunscreen lotion. They felt hot to the touch. He looked down at the jeans and shoes he had just taken off. They were smoking even more. They were melting.
Fear filled him to the bones. What is all of this? Monsters? Acid slime that eats through your clothes? Peggy Ann. Oh, dear God, Peggy Ann is one of them. The real question was if she knew about it. When he had seen the monster on Doc in the clinic hallway the old man seemed like nothing was going on when he found himself staring over the man’s head. Or did he? Greg sat in the grass in his purple boxers rehashing the events of when he’d first seen one of those things on Doc. When Doc walked down the hall giving him the prescription, he had—
The pills!
Greg blanked all thought and leaned forward frantically reaching into the burning pile of melting jeans. The pills were in the front right pocket along with his cell phone. The pile of melting fabric burned at the touch. It took a few jabs into the smoky pile and a few stinging fingers, but he came away satisfied. The plastic pill bottle was warped and the cap was melted shut, but it was still intact. The phone was fine. The battery life was still relatively high since he hadn’t messed with it much all day. More surprising than that, the phone came away from the heap of melting jeans unscathed.
He started to dial his roommate back in Monroe. Something rustled nearby in the darkness. He paused.
What the hell was that?
His mind flashed with the thought of Doc, Peggy Ann, and her dad rushing him from behind. He sat silent in the grass between the two houses and listened. There was nothing. At least thirty seconds went by before he moved. Feeling a little awkward in his socks, boxers, and the Impending Doom shirt, he clutched the phone in one hand and the disfigured pill bottle in the other. The cuffs were still locked around his right wrist with the broken bedpost clutched tight in the other cuff. He needed to be on the move. The clinic was only another house over. If he sat there any longer, it wouldn’t be long before they found him. Keeping low and quiet, he got back on his feet and eased to the edge of the street out front. His socks soaked moisture from the damp grass. The paved street was in view. Greg stole a few glances toward the clinic from where he was hunkering behind a garbage can.
The Sheriff’s patrol car was still parked out front along with Doc Minder’s car. The front door to the clinic was open and the light was on. A large shadow lay draped across the porch from inside. It was the Sheriff. He was standing in the front doorway.
Greg turned the other way and ran in full sprint. Sticking to the grass to keep quiet, he made it five houses down before he stopped to look back. The Sheriff was walking down from the porch to his cruiser. Before the Sheriff had a chance to look up, Greg took off deeper into the darkness of the neighborhood.
The only question now was where to go. Elliott was the obvious solution. Greg could care less if he was friends with his fingers. That’s how everything around here was; crazy. And crazy just might be what he needed to get the hell out of this mess. As he ran at full sprint back
toward town, the first thing that came to mind was Main Street. Only thing was how to get there from where he found himself now.
He was in utter disbelief as he ran through the unlit neighborhood. Those things were real. It wasn’t just the head trauma or the stress of money and what to do about the truck. It wasn’t just his dreams. Everything was real. Everything was all really real.
* * *
“I don’t give a damn if you’re tired. He’s on the loose and you’re the one that’s gonna go find him.” The Sheriff’s agitated voice crackled through the CB Radio in Teddy’s cruiser. “I’m gettin’ together a search party to hit the streets on foot. It’s comin’ up on 8:00 already. We need to find this guy before he becomes a problem. Doc seems to think he knows too much already.”
Teddy sank deeper into the driver’s seat, rolling his eyes. He stared down at the receiver with skepticism. His old man really was serious. He was actually going to go through with it tonight. Old man Doc Minders had gotten to his head worse than Teddy could have ever realized, and tonight was proof of that.
“Need I remind you that tonight is gonna solve all our problems,” the Sheriff demanded.
“Yeah,” Teddy said, holding the receiver. “I hear you.”
“Good. Now get your ass in gear and find him. Doc and a few others are headed to the church now to get things ready. This is important, so don’t screw it up!”
“Yes, sir,” Teddy replied with a hint of sarcasm. Then he threw the radio mic into the passenger side floorboard as hard as he could. The cord snapped loose from the radio as it bounced across the floor. He crossed him arms, grimacing at his father’s demands.
He cranked up the cruiser and flicked the headlights switch to the on position. The parking lot before him lit up instantly. He had been sitting in the parking lot of the new plaza just killing time. With nothing ever exciting really ever happening in Grayson, he was accustom to sitting in one spot for a few hours at a time. He would go through his rounds at least twice a night. Once or twice down Main Street and once up and down Highway 165. That was how he ran into Greg Teeter and the accident. Running into Greg was probably one of the cooler things to have ever happened to him in this dump of a town since he was a little kid. The only thing that stacked up against it was when he turned six and got the 4-wheeler for his birthday. He thought about it for a minute more. Back then was when his old man was actually somebody. He was normal then, but now he was off his rocker. Things had changed ever since his mom had passed away. That was when it went downhill. As much as Teddy wanted to see his mother’s face one last time to tell her that he missed her and thought of her daily; all he really wanted was for his dad to stop being crazy with all these new ideas and go back to being what he needed him to be; a father. Nothing he could ever do would bring her back. Nothing any of them could do would bring any of them back.
Nothing.
Teddy loosened his clenched grip off the steering wheel, his knuckles flushed white.
He knew what needed to be done.
Shifting into gear, his foot easing off the brake, Teddy left the parking lot with only one goal in mind.
Finding Greg Teeter.
Chapter 12
The air reeked of liquor from the busted bottle, the glass scattered on the ground behind the coffee shop.
With the small metal pipe in hand, Brian repeatedly swung hard, giving it everything he had. With each swing, as the metal rod smashed into the old man’s face, blood splashed into the air and all over his new shirt, Brian’s mind flashed to the days of old. The days of employment. With each violent hit, he didn’t see himself demolishing the man’s nose and cheeks. He saw himself at the Truss Shop swinging his hammer. With each heaving thrust, he drove nail after nail into the wood frame that would soon be shipped to the housing site. Only the hits he produced now were much softer, more liquefied blows to the head of an old man who deserved it.
Garbling bloody spittle the old man cried out. The metal pipe came down again and Brian laughed. The cartilage in the man’s nose cracked even more under the violent blow. Blood, saliva, and three loose teeth spewed out from the man’s mouth as he cried for help to anyone that would listen.
There were others. And they were listening and watching. Oh yes, watch they did.
Help they did not.
Brian had gone exactly where he planned. After leaving the back alley that so many of the homeless community called home, he was at the coffee shop in less than ten minutes. It was at the farther end of Main Street headed away from the new plaza. He couldn’t say that he was surprised not to find Elliott there. He didn’t blame the psycho for not showing back up at the coffee shop. Brian had told the freak not to ever show his face around again and that this spot was no longer his to bum for money. It was Brian’s. A big waste that was. Brian hadn’t had any luck at it and did it for a few days before giving up on it all together.
The coffee shop was closed now and had been closed for about an hour or more. When he first showed up, the sun was still out and there were some customers still hanging out inside. He had scoped the place out and even asked the people behind the counter if they’d seen Elliott. They said ‘no’ of course, which only fueled the fire even more.
Highly on edge and still rushing with adrenaline due to the fact that he had just killed someone made him all the more irritable than on the average day. The cashier asked him to leave. After threatening to call the Sheriff, Brian found himself outside and at the back of the coffee shop. But not before pushing a stack of CDs to the floor near the register.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the chair behind the coffee shop contemplating everything. He contemplated locations that Elliott might try to visit. All the while, the sun was down and it grew dark. Before long, the shop was closed and everyone had gone home. Brian didn’t know that though. He was still lost in thought and finally coming down from the high of killing that man in the alley.
The tobacco in his mouth had long lost its flavor. Reaching into his back pocket, Brian’s agitation only grew. He was out. He tossed the empty can to the ground at his feet.
That was when they showed.
Five men and three women walked past the back of the coffee shop. All were homeless people. Two of the younger men about Brian’s age were hefting large black bags full of crushed aluminum cans. Brian recognized the sound the cans made as they rustled about inside the large plastic bags. The other three men were much older. Two of them were carrying bottles of alcohol hidden beneath brown paper bags. Based on the life of the party and the smiles on everyone’s faces, the bottles were new and filled. Brian could only assume from judging the direction they had been walking from that the liquor store was back the way these people had come from. And their excited smiles told of the fun to come. Based on the bags of aluminum these younger guys were toting, Brian only imagined that they had all banded together and had a really successful collection day. The women were laughing and grinning ear to ear as they all walked up.
“Had a good day today, didn’t we?” One of the younger men said as they all drew closer to Brian.
From what he could tell, Brian wasn’t sure they even realized he was sitting in the shadows behind the coffee shop.
“Hell yeah, we did.” One of the older men laughed, holding up the brown bag covered bottle. “Not only did we get these, if I had to guess, we still got another fifty bucks sittin’ in those bags.”
“You know what that means.” One of the women grinned, skipping with joy.
“What’s that, Laura?”
“Mean’s that we’re gonna have a great day tomorrow too, once we get them cans cashed.”
All eight of them joined the laughter in an excited banter of agreement. Tomorrow would be great.
If there was anything that Brian really enjoyed about these kinds of people, it was getting under their skin. It was just too easy. He loved toying with people. Making them tense. Afraid. Being dramatic was Brian’s specialty. He waited till the small gro
up passed the back of the coffee shop and by now it was obvious. They were unaware of his presence and were not even ten feet away from him.
He started his handy-work. It was what he was good at.
The sudden slow clapping that echoed out in the darkness made the small group stop dead in their track and look back. Brian laughed out loud, mimicking the group’s excitement. He stood to his feet, slowly stepping into the light. Still making his slow claps as melodramatic as possible, he stepped into view.
“Congratulations,” Brian grinned, still clapping slowly. “Looks like we got a good haul tonight.”
“Excuse me?” One of the women said, as they all stood facing Brian, smiles still on their faces.
“Hey, ain’t this that guy that beat up Jesse and stole his cans?”
“Yeah, you’re right,” one of the younger men agreed, setting his garbage bag of cans on the ground. The aluminum rattled inside the plastic as he let it drop. “This is the guy,” he said very mater-of-fact. Cracking his knuckles and stepping toward Brian, he said, “Hell, I think we should teach this bum a lesson. Things have been tough on all of us since you showed up. And . . . where do you get off saying ‘we made out good tonight’? You didn’t make out shit. I didn’t see you out there with us gathering up cans. Did you?” He asked, looking back at his friends.
Hitchers Page 13