Dead Moon: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller

by James, Matthew

  “Worst case…” I pause and draw my Glock, leaving the clumsier, but more powerful shotgun behind. “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d really hate to die.”

  I smoothly climb back through the middle of our seats, only grunting in discomfort twice, and sit, leaning over to the still intact right rear passenger window. How it survived the last few minutes, I have no idea. Seeing nothing and not wanting to alert our friend by lowering said window, I slide over to the driver’s side. This window is gone, but the angle still isn’t good enough, letting me see exactly bupkis.

  Damnit, I think. This is gunna’ suck.

  I take a look back up front and see myself in Vinny’s mirror, looking like a climbing cockroach. It’s an awkward move since I’m face up, only wanting to reveal the smallest of portions of myself. I literally just want to peek up onto the roof and then slide back into the truck. I’ll formulate a plan with Vinny before going back out.

  I reach out with my empty hand and grip the only portion of the roof with no jagged edges. I then reposition my feet a little and pull myself through another couple of inches. My head clears where the back window should be, the wind whipping my hair to-and-fro. Struggling to stay in my unbelievably uncomfortable position, I squeeze my left hand tighter. I’m about to pop out and check, but the sound of broken glass crunches under my shoulders as they, along with my back, scrape against the bottom of the punched out partition. I grit my teeth and curse under my breath. The Unseen have impeccable hearing.

  Especially, the Sirens.

  The problem is that I can’t hear anything except the wind buffeting my body, shifting back-and-forth with Vinny’s zigzagging movements.

  Distracted and too slow to react, a hand reaches down and snags my wrist and yanks. I’m instantly sucked out like the world’s largest vacuum cleaner is right over my head. I’m flipped head-over-heels and violently slammed to the roof of the truck, losing my gun. I hear it clatter, landing in the bed.

  Well, at least I didn’t completely lose it.

  Following my upper body’s path, my feet strike the windshield, causing Vinny to swerve in surprise. Thankfully, the glass is in one piece and not spider webbing with the hard shot it just took. Both of my boots struck hard, pounding into it. Any harder and the glass may have burst into my driver’s face.

  Not good.

  You know what else isn’t good? Staring upside-down into the face of a demon as she squats over my face. She doesn’t attack though. She’s still holding onto me, gripping my upper now, pinning it to the metal roof. I quickly glance over and see her other hand flat against the surface, holding her steady.

  Two things flash through my mind. Two ideas really. I could either somehow signal Vinny to start swerving all over the road or at least brake hard. The issue with that is the Siren’s vice grip on my biceps. She would most likely bring me with her wherever she ends up. Either way, I’m probably going to die or at the very least get really, really broken.

  So, instead of fighting back, I just wait and think. First, I check her out—not literally—looking for any kind of weakness I can expose.

  I glance up, unintentionally looking between her legs, immediately regretting it. Ugh, speaking of ‘expose.’ The lady-thing is completely naked—minus what’s left of a shredded skirt. While I would normally love the chance to crack a joke about a situation like this, I’ll spare you with a description of what I’m seeing. Demon-monster lady parts are even something I can’t make funny. No way, no how.

  Something smacks my forehead and I see it for what it is a moment later. A jewel of some kind attached to a long dangling necklace slides across my forehead.

  Necklace? Skirt? Oh, damn. It’s the Siren from before, the really smart one. She confirms her identity when she repositions herself. She has twin bullet wounds in her right shoulder from when I shot her earlier. She leans in again, opening her mouth, showing me her serrated teeth. Her cheek muscles flex slightly turning into a wicked smile.

  Son-of-a…

  I start to struggle, but can’t get my left arm free. I then try to turn, but instantly feel her clawed grip tighten, digging into my flesh. The nails slip through my jacket’s fairly rugged material like it’s made of notebook paper.

  I grimace, halting my escape. When I stop, the pressure from her grip does too. Unfortunately, she doesn’t lessen it, but she just doesn’t increase it either.

  Okay, then. If I move again, I lose my arm.

  She leans in again, opening her mouth wider, intent on ripping me apart with her version of the kiss of death. I desperately need to find a way out of this.

  Vinny turns, most likely dodging another car. The movement causes me to shift, making my right hand slap against my thigh. My eyes widen just a pinch as I recognize the shape of my police baton in my pocket. Its cylindrical from is just inside my right front pocket. I think I can even feel a part of the handle protruding from the top my designer jean’s useless shallow pockets.

  Slowly, I slide my hand over my thigh/hip area. I know what I need to do next, and it’s going to hurt like a bitch. Making the Siren think I’m trying to get up again, I thrash, struggling like a caught fish. She does what I expect and grips my impaled arm tighter, driving those nails that much deeper.

  I attack while her attention is elsewhere, kicking out with my right foot. I catch her in the face, making her rock back, away from my face. As she leans away, I quickly reach into my pocket and draw my baton, expertly flicking my wrist like I’ve done a hundred times before.

  Not waiting for her grip to yank me off the roof, subsequently shredding the muscle in my arm, I swing as a hard as I can. The angle is bad and it’s not a death blow, but her unprotected face takes the steel baton square in the forehead. Her grip loosens enough for me to wriggle free and strike again, landing another solid blow to the face.

  She stands and wobbles, lashing out with her right hand. She catches me across the chin, opening a small, but deep, gash. Blood quickly runs down my neck as I swing again. She blocks it this time, grabbing onto my wrist, squeezing.

  I shout in pain and frustration and reach around my back with my injured arm. My body protests slightly, but my will outranks it, and I pull free my knife. With a quickness I didn’t even know I had, I plunge it into the Siren’s abdomen, burying it to the hilt.

  The truck bucks and bounces, running over something. The jarring movement, makes me fall backwards, pulling the creature with me. Her grip on my wrist doesn’t let up and I’m actually glad it doesn’t. She inadvertently keeps me atop the truck, potentially saving my life in the process.

  I stomp as hard as I can on the roof, hoping Vinny understands what I want. I’m really just hoping for a speed change, needing to finish throwing the Siren’s balance off completely.

  He does me one even better and slams on the brakes. Being as prepared as I can, I duck and lunge between the she-demon’s legs, gripping onto the roof where the rear window used to be.

  The sudden jolt of the truck stopping throws my lady friend forward, forcing her to release her death grip on my wrist. She goes flying off the top of the truck, rolling like a tumble weed down the hood. I react instantly, and dive into the bed, retrieving my gun. I scramble, finding it quickly, and stand, aiming over the dented roof.

  The Siren stands, teeth barred, knife still plunged deep into her stomach. She sniffs and looks up, just as I put a bullet between her eye sockets. Her head snaps back and she falls back, out of sight once more.

  I plop down into the bed and start to giggle, happy to be alive, but also frightened with how close I had just come to dying yet again. Vinny leaps out of the driver’s side door, weapon sweeping back-and-forth, looking for another target. Finding nothing, he looks back at me.

  “What the hell’s so funny?” he asks, appalled at the sight of my laughing.

  After another fit of the giggles, I stop. “You have no idea what I’ve seen—what I just saw.”

  He squints, a look of disbelief
splayed across his face, but it’s also one that says that he’s interested in what I have to say.

  The dry heave that follows gets another laugh out of me. I’ve made lesser people gag at my humor before, but making someone like Vinny almost vomit takes the cake. Apparently, making a joke about being nose-to-nose with the reproductive system of a half dead Siren was as disgustingly inappropriate as I thought.

  I deserve a medal…

  26

  It’s been three streets since we were attacked by the rooftop surfer girl. Since then, we’ve rode in silence, taking the last few minutes to collect ourselves. Vinny is as attentive as ever, keeping us traveling north towards our approaching goal. We’re only managing a little over 20mph now with the traffic and body count rising. Me? Well, I’m leaning against my armrest, eyes closed, trying desperately to rid myself of this massive headache.

  My mind is so done that I can barely feel the pulsating pain in my left biceps and triceps. The puncture wounds weren’t as deep as I thought, but boy did they hurt like hell when Vinny cleaned them out.

  I flinch as I remember the alcohol mixing with my blood. Normally, a cut that requires a bath in disinfectants would require some sort of stitching, like my shoulder wound, but seeing as there isn’t an operational walk-in clinic in these parts…we settled for gauze and a wrap.

  Could have used Betty again… The memory of her stitching me up in Joan’s living room brings a smile to my face. The way she took me in and ultimately died helping me is something I’ll never forget. I’ll honor her by surviving.

  I flex my arm, testing the muscles. The last thing I need is for it to stay completely immobile and tighten up. I need to stay in working order and favoring my arm would be a bad thing. Not until we’re safe anyways.

  Safe.

  I’ve almost completely forgotten the meaning of the word. Lately, the only thing I’ve been thinking of is death, or at least the prospect of it. It literally surrounds us in every direction.

  Stop it, I think, scolding the thought away. Give yourself some credit. A normal person would have hidden away like Betty did. Even Vinny stayed put because he saw a limitation in his actions. You’ve pushed forward regardless of the odds. Stay positive.

  I’m about to continue my inner pep talk and list off the near-death experiences I’ve miraculously survived, when the vision of the Siren kneeling over me replays in my mind. It’s not the gross part, mind you. It’s the face. It happened so fast at the time that I didn’t see it.

  The bitch really did smile at me, didn’t she? The implications take root and they’re mind-numbing to say the least. These things—the Sirens at least—understand what they’re doing and are enjoying it. She sniffed the air, barred her teeth, and grinned in satisfaction. The Siren was pleased with her actions. It’s like an Orca playing with its meal. The killer whale will tenderize its snack before brutally killing and devouring it.

  My eyes snap open as another thought goes through my mind, and I voice it aloud. “Do you think the Unseen have an endgame?”

  “Huh?” Vinny replies, thrown off by the question. He was staring straight ahead, zoned out. I’m not even sure if he heard it.

  “The creatures,” I repeat, “do you think they have an agenda—an endgame?”

  “Oh, well…” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If they did, they would have to have some sort of intelligence or some kind of leadership. So far I’ve only seen predatory behavior. Like a tiger stalking its prey. Yes, they are smart… But intelligent?”

  “She smiled at me,” I say, seeing her face in my mind’s eye again.

  “Who did?”

  I point above our heads. “The one that yanked me out of the truck and tried to take my arm off.” I drop my bloodied arm back into my lap. “She smiled at me when she tried to eat my face.”

  “You sure it was a genuine smile?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, then… I—”

  He doesn’t get to finish. Another flash of red light erupts from somewhere inside the park. It ripples like before, but carries an even more liquidly feel. It’s like looking underwater at the pool light.

  “You think Abaddon landed in the lake?”

  I see Vinny shrug from the corner of my vision as I continue to stare off into the trees on my right. “It’s possible,” he says. “I’d rather not find out though.”

  “I’m with you man.”

  Losing track of the streets, I look and see that we’re only a couple blocks away from the museum. I can’t believe I actually made it this far. I was so blind to my goal that I really never took the time to realize how asinine this journey has been.

  Glad I didn’t.

  “You think they made it?”

  Vinny looks over to me, contemplating my question. It’s been itching on the back of my mind since I left my apartment that first night. His too probably. What if I get to the museum and find Jill dead? What happens then?

  “Knowing Jillian and Carla…” Vinny says, smirking, lost in what must be a happy memory of some kind. “I’d say they did. They can take care of themselves if it really comes to it. Your wife is a tough one to bring down. It’s why she’s so successful in the courtroom.”

  “And Carla?” I ask.

  This gets a full-blown laugh out of Vinny. “Between her nagging and her shooting skills, I’d say she’s already killed her share of them. Either that, or the creatures killed themselves to end their own suffering.” He laughs some more and I join in. “Carla can have that kind of effect on people sometimes. It’s one reason I have her down in the shop so much. The people who are truthfully interested will deal with her. The window shoppers will leave straightaway, turned off by her natural…disposition.”

  This gets a smile out of me, but not another laugh. I don’t have the energy to belt out a second round of guffaws. My head is killing me, not to mention my body too. I can’t feel a single part of me that doesn’t hurt. Check that… My third rib on my left side is slightly tender, but isn’t actively pulsating with pain. So I’ve got that going for me…

  “Looks like we’re about to find out,” I say, looking down the street. The clearing is just up ahead on the left. I can even see the museum’s stairs a little as the front entrance comes into view.

  “Argh!” I shout in pain. The red pulse intensifies, coming out of nowhere, momentarily blinding me.

  “Damnit!” Vinny yells, slamming on the brakes. We jolt to a stop, sliding into a parked car. Through watering eyes, I see him covering his own face.

  “You okay?” I ask, not even sure if I am.

  “I think so,” he replies. “Felt like I looked at the sun.”

  “You good to drive?” I hope he is, because I’m sure as hell not.

  I open my eyes, wiping the tears away, blinking them hard. Focusing my vision proves difficult, but a few seconds later I start to see clearer. Vinny is doing the same, and is looking at me.

  “What?” I ask, wiping another set of tears away.

  “Not you,” he says, looking past me, also blinking heavily.

  “Huh?” I ask, confused.

  I see his chin tilt up, directing me to turn and look behind me. I do and curse under my breath. Back towards the lake and the now dimming burst of light, is movement. The trees are shaking and bending, being shoved out of the way like the T-Rex in Jurassic Park.

  Then, I hear it. The dead quiet of the city surrounding us gives away what is coming. It’s a sound I’ve heard before.

  “Get us out of here,” I say, scrambling into the backseat.

  “What are you—”

  “Now, damnit! They’re coming.”

  His eyes go wide, understanding. A massive wave of the Unseen are heading our way, but it’s not only the horde of creatures that I’m worried about. It’s the flash before the park came to life. Something in there is directing the monsters, telling them where to go. Movement catches my still recovering eyes. I look and see a blurry figure retreating back into the trees.
<
br />   Shit.

  It was a lookout—a scout. I’m sure of it. Why else would it retreat and not just attack? The Unseen are relaying information with one another somehow. I glance back into the tree line, visualizing the lake and the heavenly body that’s in it. Abaddon is somehow alive and leading the mass towards us. The rest of the creatures may even be like some sort of hive mind, thinking as one. Even if it’s not a true intelligence, it’s still an awful theory regardless of the true outcome. I seriously doubt anyone has had the time to properly analyze what’s actually going on in the park too.

  On my hands and knees in the backseat, I feel the truck slide backwards, away from the wrecked sedan we bumped. Steadying myself, I throw back the blanket hiding the crate wedged behind Vinny. Inside are a dozen large mason jars of the clear, highly flammable grain alcohol. I lift one out along with one of the rags that is acting as padding and get a horrible idea.

  “Hey, Vinny…”

  “What?” he asks. His eyes flick up to the rearview mirror, watching me.

  “You got a lighter?”

  27

  I know what you’re thinking, and no, you’re wrong. While being a badass and throwing Molotov cocktails all over Manhattan would be very amusing and a great reliever of stress, it’s not at all what I have planned. Plus, it wouldn’t work against the sizable force coming at us. I’m not exactly sure how many of them there’ll be, but I have little faith that fire alone will detour them. We need something bigger…more powerful.

  Vinny screeches to a halt just before we get to the museum’s front entrance, parking the truck behind one of New York’s many buses. Protection for what’s coming next…

  “You sure this is going to work? Sounds a little Hollywood to me.”

  While I completely agree with Vinny’s apt description of my plan, I do, in fact, believe it’ll work. Besides, if anything, it’ll serve as a distraction while we attempt to make our way inside the museum.

  “I just hope someone inside sees us and lets us in,” I say, pouring the last of the jars on the middle step. The collection of smashed and turned over vehicles just outside the building should take care of everything else. All they needed was a fuse. “If we can’t get in then this is all for naught. We’ll burn to death out here if we don’t make it inside.” The odor of gasoline is proof enough. It’s everywhere and should also help my little idea go up in flames… Literally.