Something’s not right here, Herbert thought as he absently felt at the bagged powders in his pocket. “Did everyone turn against Joy?”
“They had it out for her as soon as we’d married. Once they’d missed their chances.”
No concern for the kids, no genuine concern for your wife. Herbert squinted his eyes at Seth, as though he were transmitting his thoughts to him. It was a tool they’d used since childhood, and it never seemed to fail them. “Did you ever find the kids?”
Sheriff Boone shook his head.
“Searched every inch of the swamp,” the mayor clarified.
“What exactly happened to Marie Riley last week?” Herbert noted the frustration in Seth’s voice, a combination of the heat and his dislike for closed spaces populated by dumbasses.
“She lived on the outskirts near the bayou. Terrible place to live. Alligators come up from the river there to rest. That’s how she lost her husband.”
“Was Abernathy her girl?” Seth picked at the splintering wood on the table.
“She didn’t much look like her daddy, Marie’s husband, but lots of us here come from bad places, bad choices,” the mayor mused. “But yeah, Abernathy was hers. She didn’t mention that?”
Seth shook his head.
“That’s strange,” Sheriff Boone said matter-of-factly.
“That’s one detail you usually keep in if you want someone to come help you out of a bind.” Herbert bit his lip and transmitted “What the fuck is going on?” to his partner.
Seth shook his head. Transmission received.
Daniel Nathaniel, the doctor, sneezed into his hands and wiped a trail of snot on his pant leg. “When we found Marie Riley, she was crawling down the road toward town, blood everywhere. She should’ve bled out back in her garden where she’d been attacked. No feet, like I said. Eddy …”
“Eddy is the one who found her?” Herbert made the connection for the man.
“Yeah, and he’s the one who killed her. He said she attacked him, and he hit her with the shovel he’d been carrying.”
“Something is being spread,” Seth said excitedly. This was his favorite part of the investigation—the part where he got to theorize and be the smartest man in the room.
“Whatever is attacking these people, these children, is passing something on.” Herbert paused for a moment as he heard a door crack back against a house outside. “It’s hunting, and then whatever it feasts on is changed.”
“A disease of some sort,” the doctor added.
“Something in the saliva or its teeth.” Seth stood up and, just to be dramatic, started to lay out his weapons on the table. “Probably meant to paralyze, to make sure the corpse stays relatively put, so it can come back to it later on.”
“Nethers will do this, but they are extremely rare.” Herbert came to his feet as well. “Never heard of them this far south and I’m hoping it’s not them, because they are a pain in the ass to kill. Incredibly impervious for some incredibly obnoxious reason.”
Outside, feet shuffled across a porch. A word was uttered and then lost.
“I’d suggest ghouls, but victims are too slow, too dimwitted, to be ghouls.” Seth twisted his mouth in thought. “Goredrinkers, maybe.” He smiled as the manly men of Marrow cringed. “But there’d be less left of them if that were true.”
“It could be an orphan ... not what you think, gentlemen. They’re little pale kids who like to drink—”
“Sheriff, you need to watch yourself,” Seth warned. “I think this thing, whatever it is, may have attacked Eddy because he killed Marie. It doesn’t seem to like anyone who gets in the way of its food—”
Again, outside, there was a commotion: shouts, followed by footsteps, followed by a growl and screams.
“Christ Almighty, what the hell was that?” Mayor Covert sprung to his feet and grabbed one of the investigators’ weapons from the table.
That was fast. Herbert transmitted another thought to Seth—this is it—and bolted across the inn’s first floor. He pushed through the front doors, pushed aside the wide-eyed, slack-jawed pedestrian standing behind them. The humid slush that was Marrow’s air formed around him. His head darted back and forth between the houses and the streets, searching for the turmoil. We can’t track this thing out here. Can’t let this fucker get away.
Another scream and breaking glass. Herbert followed the inn’s wraparound porch to the left and then paused, his mind halted by what he saw. In a small alley, a woman lay upon a bed of glass, the shards that blanketed her protruding from her body. The body was twitching, and for a moment, Herbert thought the woman was alive. But then he saw it—the huge, red worm stretching away from the corpse—and realized the body was moved by its feeding.
“Seth is this a new …?”
Herbert didn’t have the chance to finish his question, because the farther his eyes travelled up the worm, the faster he realized the worm was not a worm at all, but intestines. Several feet from the woman’s body, near where the woods began, a little girl, the same he’d seen earlier, was walking away. She was holding the guts like a ball of yarn, and as she moved, they unspooled and spilt across the ground. When she realized she’d been spotted, the little girl ran for the woods, clinging desperately to her bloody spoils as Herbert and Seth chased after her.
Joy
Joy liked strong men. She liked how hard they fought, even when they had no chance of winning. She liked the way their bodies looked when they were covered in sweat or drenched in blood. There was something about the texture of strong men that excited her. Perhaps it was the realization that, beyond all the flesh, there was power.
Boone hadn’t been her equal, as she so had foolishly hoped, but he was strong. Joy appreciated this, because as he carried her through the swamp, she knew he wouldn’t drop or drag her. He’d draped a sheet over her body, placed a crucifix upon her chest. In the past, some men, usually the weaker ones had cut her up or left her to fester beneath a tree or in a basement. That’s the other reason she liked strong men: Once they broke something, they became almost childlike in how they took care of the pieces.
He was bringing her to their secret place, their special place—a small island at the darkest part of the swamp, where under a thousand firefly lights, they first made love. He’d been so considerate then; he’d even finished on the dirt just to be safe. It’s probably still there, Joy thought back to the damp patch of soil and her magnificent husband panting over it. I can use that.
Boone struggled to walk as he trudged forward into the water. Joy looked down and through the sheet and watched his pained reflection on the lamplight-lit surface. It didn’t have to end like this, but she knew, if she was being honest with herself, it always would.
“Why’d you make me do it?” Boone laid her down on the island and then lifted himself onto it. He took off her sheet—there, in the grass, the candles from last time, and her underwear—and sat. “God damn it, Joy,” he said into his palms as he wept.
Joy rolled her eyes. Enough ceremony. Get on with it, so I can get out of here.
But then something happened she hadn’t expected—at least, not from Boone. He hit her. He balled his hands into tear-streaked fists and punched her. He split her lip, broke her nose. He kicked her side until she flipped on her stomach, and then he turned her over and brought his foot down into her gut. She could feel his heel working its way down to her pelvis, and that’s when she understood the depth of his hate for her infertility.
Joy didn’t need to be human to know anger. What is this? She felt her skin become sweaty and hot. Boone, what are you doing to me? Her body tensed and her mouth worked itself into a sneer. She started to clutch the earth, dig her fingers deep into it. Her husband must’ve noticed the changes, because he stopped his assault and went still. But it was too late. Death was one thing, but desecration was another matter entirely. He’d killed her out of necessity but dishonored her out of desire.
In a panic, Boone picked up the sheet and
threw it over Joy. Using the fire from the lamp, he lit the remainder of the candles and placed them around his dead wife’s body. He muttered a half-hearted apology, turned his back, and fled into the night. Joy listened and watched for a while until his trampling couldn’t be heard, and his light was swallowed by the dark. She ripped off the sheet, but lay where he left her, and considered killing the whole of Marrow.
You want children? Her white satin dress began to lengthen across the ground. She licked her lips at the thought of the boys and girls she’d eaten. For the perfect child, she had needed the perfect ingredients. Her dress tightened, weaved into the soil itself; the cuffs and hem split and searched for the semen that had been spilt there. You wouldn’t accept them then, but maybe you will now. She brought her legs back as she felt her womb quicken. And if you don’t, I’m sure we can find someone who will. The white satin dress continued to stretch outward, so that it covered the island completely, while leaving the candles upright. Her breasts grew heavy, and her nipples became engorged. I’ll show you Marrow as it is, and once you see it, you’ll come back to me.
Joy took a deep breath, spread her legs, and pushed dead, rotted perfection into the world.
Herbert
“Nightfall comes quick!” Mayor Covert shouted after Herbert and Seth. “Slow down, damn it!”
Herbert whipped around, ripped the torch out of the mayor’s hands. “Doctor, our gear!” He yelled as he turned to face the woods. “Seth, don’t lose sight of her!”
Seth hurried onward, his revolver readied. “Don’t plan on it.”
As Daniel Nathaniel retreated toward the inn, Herbert plunged into the thick of the woods. The little girl was quick; she dodged and weaved through the trees as though she’d known this place all her life. Is this one of the missing kids? He could feel Sheriff Boone at his back, holding up the rear, as though he were coming along only because his station required it.
Herbert took out his gun and knife and ran as fast as he could. Branches slashed his cheeks as bushes bit at his ankles. The muddy ground sucked on his feet as he plodded through puddles and pools. Because of the torch, it took him a moment to notice the phenomenon, but with every step he took, the woods were growing darker. Was it night already? How had so much time passed?
Seth fell back to join in his light. “There, where the swamp begins,” he panted, his skin a pale blue in the unnatural evening glow. “She’s gone in there.”
Herbert craned his neck. The doctor had never caught up with them, and Sheriff Boone was gone as well. “This is stupid, Seth. We don’t know what she is or how to kill her.”
“Hold on there just a minute,” Mayor Covert panted as he regrouped with the investigators. As the smell of tobacco rolled off him, he grabbed his chest as though to stop his lungs from leaving in search of a better body. “She’s just a little girl,” he finally managed to sputter.
“I’m no parent myself, but little girls don’t usually go digging in people’s stomachs,” Herbert said as he shook his head, and as he shook his head, he recalled the little girl standing amongst the crowd hours earlier. He remembered how she stood alone but ignored, free to do as she liked, because she was a child, and no child could be capable of such cruelties. “Go back, Mayor. There has to be more of these children. It’s no coincidence so many have gone missing.”
“Something has changed them?” Mayor Covert’s eyes were wide and watering.
“They may be marionettes. Something might’ve hitched a ride in these kids and is making them carry out its will. Fuck, I don’t know! I’m just guessing here. Listen … go back, get everyone to a safe place. Keep the kids separated. Use the rooms in the inn. One for each kid—”
Seth interrupted as he said, “Herbert, we have to go. Mayor, treat this like an illness, and we’ll be back when we’re finished.”
Mayor Covert nodded, and with a look of relief, he turned on his heels and went wheezing into the woods.
“You ready?” Seth went to where the land sloped and stood peering over the edge. “See the ripples?”
Herbert held the torch out as far as he could; across the swamp, black, oily waves were rolling outward. Slowly, he slid down the slope until he was up to his waist in the water. In a matter of seconds, he found himself swarmed by beetles and gnats, as though they were eager to welcome him into their decaying domain. He waved the torch back and forth, but the insects were unfazed. There were worse things to fear in the swamp than fire.
“There she is,” Seth whispered as he swam beside Herbert. “Where there’s the inlet, just beyond. Another part of the swamp, I think.”
“This is the sloppiest investigation we’ve ever conducted.” Herbert picked out a mush of bugs that had flown into his ear.
“We were a little hasty,” Seth admitted. “I just wanted to get this over with. We’d be out here for weeks trying to track this thing down.”
“Where’d the sheriff go?”
“It was morning when we got here. How did it …?” Seth pushed a piece of driftwood out of his way. “I think Sheriff Boone knows exactly what’s going on.”
“Why didn’t he stop us?” Herbert paused. “We need to get out of these waters.” Several frogs leapt from their lily pads as something slithered past, dipping beneath the surface before the investigator could see it.
“We go where the monsters go. It’s the only way to be sure.” Seth sped up and reached for the inlet. He grasped the roots there and lifted himself out of the water.
“I think he wants us to find whatever he and his wife have done and put an end to it. Too afraid to do it himself.” Herbert handed his friend the torch and followed his example. “I swear to god if there’s a leech on my—”
“Shut up, Herbert,” Seth said, giving back the torch and crouching down. “What is that?”
He had to strain himself to hear it, but they were there: dark words in the inky night. At first, they seemed so familiar, as though he could make out what was being said, but the words became heavier, thicker, like they’d been torn open by some eldritch incantation and left to scab over. Herbert’s ears began to burn, to itch; the words became scratchy, harsh, like someone was sawing through his skull with a thick piece of rope.
“The white island,” Seth murmured, his finger pointing to the pale plot between two weeping willows. “That’s where it’s coming from. That’s where the little girl went.”
Herbert North lowered himself into the swamp and slowly waded forward. Boney trees twisted out of the roiling murk, their flesh the leaves that now blanketed the black waters. Mosquitos washed over him in blood-swollen waves, taking what they could, when they could, because he was in no position to swat them away. He’d brought the torch, but then left it behind, as the dead things ahead had their own light, and he didn’t want them to see him coming.
Joy
Joy parted her legs and pulled out the snakes that had crawled inside her. Being dead had its perks, but too often it meant that things tried to take residence in places they had no right to be. Since Boone had left, her body had become a writhing temple for all things scaled and skittering. Her children enjoyed it—they seemed to take great pleasure in probing around inside her for a small snack—but truth be told, it was an annoyance she could do without.
Cali and Ethan were standing over Joy when Abernathy finally returned with her offering. She had considered renaming the children, but they looked too much like their older selves, so it would’ve only made things more confusing. Sure, they hadn’t come out perfectly—Maribel had Jessica’s eyes, Ethan, Joseph’s fingers; Abernathy had absorbed Brian entirely—but she had long since come to accept the beauty of imperfection.
Joy smiled as Abernathy laid the bundle of intestines at her feet. Then, like a bird feeding its young, the little girl stretched out her neck and coughed until she vomited up a heart and some toes. You could’ve just used your pockets, Joy thought as Abernathy nodded and joined her siblings. Silly children.
Still in her white
satin dress, Joy sat up and ran her fingers over the already fly infested remains. The island shuddered as the fabric rippled and swirled, and where there had been nothing, there was now a body or at least the attempt at one. Beginning with a severed head and ending in two detached feet, the makeshift man was a combination of stolen parts that had been brought here by her children. With the flick of her wrist, Joy picked up the intestines and dropped them where the stomach would be. With the snap of her finger, the heart lodged itself into a hollowed-out torso, and the toes were attached to the places where Cali had gnawed the last ones off.
“Daddy,” Abernathy said, her voice boyish, like Brian’s had been.
Joy nodded and lay back down. She tired easily, because it took everything she had to keep from leaving this world. “Yes, soon, my love.”
“People are coming,” Ethan said, his voice unenthused.
Joy cocked her head. “Hide, children. Abernathy may have brought us visitors.”
Abernathy’s lip quivered, and she started to weep tears of dirt.
“Hush, now,” Joy said, calling the girl over with a wave of her arm. “Hush. They may be the last things we need before …”
Joy’s eyes widened as Boone rose out of the darkness, his revolver pointed directly at her head. He was covered in sweat, and tens of ticks and leeches were attached to his skin. He was bleeding from the nose and pieces of a thorn bush were still stuck to his pant leg.
“You’ve gone through hell to get here,” Joy said. “It’s up to you how you get out.”
Boone pulled back the hammer on his gun. He took a quick look at the abominations huddled beside his wife. “I knew it was you.”
“What took you so long?” Joy could feel the fear in her children, and it sickened her. They were connected, and they reflected one another. “Did you think if you pretended this wasn’t your fault, god wouldn’t find out? You don’t have to worry about that, Boone. The only God in these parts is fast asleep, and he doesn’t much mind murder.”
All Things Zombie: Chronology of the Apocalypse Page 34