We Came Back

by Patrick Lacey

  You know who else looks like a corpse?

  He stopped writing notes on the board, his hand paused mid-sentence.

  There was no way these kids were connected to Busty. He was… how old, twenty, twenty-one? Frank couldn’t remember but he found it unlikely they ever crossed paths let alone knew each other. Hadn’t Busty said he lived one town over?

  Then why does this weirdo walk into your life, start dating your daughter, and now you’ve got these perfectly normal kids looking like carbon copies?

  He could feel their eyes boring into him, snickering. He’d broken up a half dozen fights in his teaching career. He’d been threatened by burnouts, had his tires slashed, even attacked by a few expelled students, but now, facing away from these three oddly dressed teenagers, he couldn’t help but feel faint.

  His skin went prickly. Could they smell the fear on him? Could they see the sweat starting to soak through his clothes? Was he shivering as much as he thought?

  They look like Busty’s minions.

  And Busty is Melvin’s little brother.

  And Melvin blew his brains out in front of you a decade ago.

  He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were heading, didn’t like the sneaking suspicion, no matter how irrational, that they could actually hear him thinking.

  He capped the marker and set it down on the desk, finally turning around. “Okay, let’s open our books to page one hundred and thirty.” He heard pages turning, seats shifting. If he could just make it through the class without looking up…

  But he did so anyway as a reflex.

  All three pale students were staring and smiling. In the back of the class, Tom Parkins winked and nodded.

  ●●●

  “I’ve got two of them in my advanced photography class,” Sandy Aiello said in the break room after Frank’s first class. “Last semester they were good kids, actually seemed interested in the subject matter. Now they stare at me like I’m some sort of joke. I don’t want to speak out of turn but those freaks give me the heebie jeebies.”

  There was a group of five teachers huddled together near the sink in the teacher’s lounge, one of which was Rick McNeil. When he caught Frank staring, he waved him over. It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were talking about.

  “I’ve got two myself,” Murray said. “In my trig class. Vickie Bronson and Tom Parkins. She came to school the first day like that but this is new for him. Last week he was a normal kid who tried to be discreet about checking out girls. Now he looks at them dead on but more importantly he looks dead.”

  Funny coming from you, Frank thought. The guy was a closet perv and even now the booze wafted from his pores.

  “What about you, Frank?” Rick said. “You got any of these Lynnwood Vampires in your classes?”

  His eyes opened wide as if he’d heard his first curse word. “Three of them. All smart. Honors kids in fact. Now they laugh and giggle and look like they’re always on the verge of starting something.”

  Sandy began to talk again but Frank cut her off, turning to Rick. “What did you call them? The Lynnwood…”

  Rick nodded. “Vampires. Not sure if they coined the term or if it started as a rumor but it sounds like we’ve got a club on our hands.”

  “More like a cult,” Nancy Holden said. It was the first time she’d spoken. Normally, Frank couldn’t stand the sight of her but the term seemed to fit the best.

  Rick waved her off. “Give me a break. It’s not like they’re wearing hoods and drinking Kool-Aid. It’s a bunch of kids goofing around and trying to seem edgy. I give it a few months before they’re back to normal.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Murray said. He sipped his coffee and winced. Frank had a feeling it wasn’t because it was hot. The booze smelled like cough syrup this close. “I heard they have some sick little game they’re playing, a rite of passage or something.”

  “Seven minutes in heaven?” Rick said. “If that’s the case, I’ve been a member since I was eight.” Rick elbowed Frank. He pretended to laugh but had to keep his mouth shut for fear his coworkers would hear his teeth chattering.

  Murray gave Rick a death stare. “I’m being serious. I heard they like to round up road kill and nail it to people’s doors.”

  “And why the hell would they do that?” Rick grabbed a chocolate from the dish atop the coffee table, ripped it open, and started chewing.

  “How should I know? You ask me, this isn’t some joke. I got a bad feeling about this. I don’t think it’s just a fashion craze. You seen those kids’ eyes? There’s something wrong with them, something that makes me sweat through my shirt by the time class is over.”

  “That’s just the whiskey,” Rick said.

  “What was that?” Murray sipped his coffee again as if to prove it wasn’t laden with booze.

  Rick tossed his candy wrapper into the trash and grabbed his textbook. “I said I ought to get going. Second period is about to begin and I got a couple vampires to tend to.” He stopped at the door and turned around, raised his hands in the air, and pretended to flap them like bat-like wings.

  Everyone but Murray and Frank laughed. The former, because he’d been called out on his not-so-secret habit, and the latter, because he didn’t find anything particularly funny about those kids. The two loathed each other, but despite their differences, Frank and Murray finally had something in common.

  They both had bad feelings about The Lynnwood Vampires.

  ●●●

  Alyssa took her time walking toward room 307, the most dreaded of all her rooms. It was where the National Honor Society met once a week. She’d been inducted last semester but had been reluctant to accept. She eventually gave in not because she cared about extracurricular activities but because her father had badgered her. It would look good on a college transcript, he’d said.

  She’d hated to agree with him but he was right. Schools ate stuff like that up. It might end up being what got her into UCONN or Penn State. God knew she had the grades for it. School came natural to her. She put in minimal effort and was rewarded with straight A’s. Academia bored her but if it would help her get a decent job far away from this town—far away from her father and Justin—then so be it.

  She made her way down the hall and stopped just outside the room, thinking how she’d rather be watching TV or getting drunk or, most importantly, spending time with Busty.

  She opened the door and was greeted by the strangest assembly of students she’d ever seen. There were a couple of the usual suspects: Angie Tucker and Carlos Montel, both at the top of their class and weren’t afraid to tell the world as much. But there were some odd members as well.

  Was that Tom Parkins in the corner? What the hell was he doing here? Outside, on the field, football practice was commencing without the star quarterback. He hadn’t been in trig class today. This was the first time she’d seen his new outfit: a black sleeveless shirt with black jeans and, not surprisingly, black leather boots. It was the polar opposite of his normal sports jersey. His skin was pale and his eyes dark. He looked feverish.

  Sitting next to him was Sylvie Platt. Gone were her pigtails and modest outfit. Instead she was dressed like a female version of Tom and looked just as sickly.

  In the middle of the seats, leaning back in her chair, was Vickie Bronson, the president of the Honor Society and the first in her class to start this weird cult thing. She looked even stranger today and the snarl that spread her face wide caused Alyssa’s heart to palpitate.

  Vickie looked at the clock. “You’re two minutes late.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “My last class got out late.”

  “Bullshit,” Tom Parkins said from the corner. “You just wanted to bail on us because you’d rather be boinking your boyfriend.” He snorted and elbowed Sylvie. Then he pulled her by the hair toward him, locking lips with her. The two sucked face for close to ten seconds, oblivious to everyone else in the room, before Vickie told them to cut the shit.

 
Vickie waved to the only remaining seat. “Don’t let it happen again. This is senior year and we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

  Alyssa nodded and crossed the room, feeling faint when she saw the open desk was next to Tom and Sylvie, both of whom eyed her as she sat down.

  “You’re so lucky to be going out with Busty,” Sylvie said. “He’s hot as hell. I like older guys.”

  “Older?” Tom said. “What’s he, twenty? Not exactly ready to retire. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a bad ass but does he have these?” He flexed his muscles.

  Sylvie slapped his shoulder. “He certainly doesn’t.” They proceeded to make out again.

  “How do you guys know Busty?” Alyssa said.

  Neither of them answered, unless you counted Sylvie’s moan as Tom squeezed her thigh.

  “First things first,” Vickie said, opening her purse and pulling out a cigarette. She used a lighter embossed with a skull and cross-bones as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

  The other two normal kids in the class looked ready to topple over. They stared at the door, probably praying the principal wouldn’t catch wind of the smoke.

  “It looks like we’ve got ourselves a name,” Vickie said, smoke pouring out of her nostrils.

  “A… name?” Angie said. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean somebody started a rumor that we like to call ourselves…” she spread her hands out in front of her as if giving the elevator pitch for a new movie. “The Lynnwood Vampires.”

  Tom and Sylvie stopped kissing long enough to catch their breath and laugh. “Vampires? That’s perfect.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Vickie took another drag. The smoke was nearly the color of her skin. “I say we roll with it.”

  Angie cleared her throat and played with a lock of her curly hair, a nervous tick with emphasis on the nervous. “Why would we change the name of the honor society? Are we even allowed to do that?”

  “Who’s going to stop us?” Vickie said.

  “The teachers for one,” Carlos said. He closed his mouth quickly, like he’d just mouthed off to a giant.

  Vickie took a huge drag off the cigarette, a stray pile of ash spilling onto her desk, and blew it into Carlos’ face. “Don’t be such a pussy. You know what your problem is? And this goes for you too, sweetie.” She nodded toward Angie, who looked ready to vomit. Then she turned to Alyssa, locking eyes. “And most definitely you. You’re way too worried about being teacher’s pets. We’re teenagers. We ought to be living it up while we still can. Nothing wrong with raising a bit of hell.”

  “That’s odd coming from you,” Carlos said under his breath.

  “What was that?” Vickie said.

  He shrugged, looking anywhere but her eyes. “It’s just that the last time we had a meeting, you told us grades were the most important thing in the world. I think you mentioned not worrying about having a social life until you had a career. What happened to you in the meantime?”

  Vickie stood and paced the room, staring at Carlos like he was prime rib. She made her way to him and leaned forward. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.” She stubbed the cigarette out on the desk.

  The last bell of the day rang, signaling the end of all after school clubs.

  Alyssa thought she’d never seen anyone so relieved as Carlos and Angie as they grabbed their backpacks and ran out the door.

  Which left Alyssa alone with the three… what had they called themselves… vampires?

  Vickie tossed her butt in the trash and caught Alyssa staring. “See you next week?”

  Alyssa shrugged and nodded, tried not to seem as scared as she felt. “Sure.”

  Vickie nodded. “Good. We’re going to get so much accomplished this year. Just you wait.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Alyssa forced a smile at them and turned around.

  “Oh and do me a favor, will you?” Vickie said.

  Alyssa froze at the door without turning around. “What’s that?”

  She couldn’t see the smirk on Vickie’s face, the way she contorted her features so that she seemed just a little less human, but if she had, she would’ve sprinted for the hall. “Say hello to Busty for me,” she said.

  Chapter Ten

  “It’s got to stop,” Leon Bronson whispered to his wife Aja. “I’ll have a talk with her tonight.”

  “After dinner,” Aja said as she slid the chicken out of the oven and closed the door with her bottom.

  “After dinner,” Leon agreed.

  He poured himself a glass of Merlot and hoped it would take the edge off. He didn’t often drink unless he was out with friends, didn’t believe that alcohol was good for your heart. If it could harden your liver and give you esophageal cancer, it didn’t make a shred of sense to imbibe on a regular basis. But what did he know? He was just a dermatologist who had worked almost constantly since college. And what did he have to show for it? One of the biggest houses in Lynnwood and cars that cost more than some college tuitions, but truthfully none of that mattered as much as his family.

  And right now his family wasn’t doing so well.

  He rarely saw his wife even though they worked at the same institution. Their schedules were hectic. Their conversations never lasted longer than ten minutes, about three times the length of their lovemaking sessions, which had been few and far between in recent times.

  His older daughter Valerie was home from college for the night and had agreed to have dinner with her family after not so much as a call in the last month.

  Then there was Vickie, the daughter he’d held to such high standards because he wanted her to do well, because he believed in her.

  And look how far that got you, he thought as he sliced the bread and took another sip of wine.

  As if sensing his train of thought, he heard the fridge open and caught something dark in his periphery. It was the thing that resembled his youngest child. “When the hell are we going to eat? I’m starving.”

  “Language,” Aja said, putting the chicken on the serving tray.

  “They’re just words, Mom. Just fucking words.”

  Aja gasped and nearly dropped the bird.

  Vickie giggled and stepped back into the dining room.

  “You sure you want to wait until after dinner for that talk?” Leon said even softer this time.

  “I just want a quiet meal with my family,” she said. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  From the dining room, Valerie gasped. “Don’t pinch me. What the hell did you do that for?”

  “I wanted to make sure your face was real,” Vickie said. “You wear enough make-up to put a mannequin to shame.”

  “Says Mrs. Crypt Keeper,” Valerie said.

  Leon rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that quiet dinner.”

  ●●●

  “So,” Aja said as she poured a glass of wine. “I think a toast is in order.”

  “What the hell for?” Vickie said with a mouth full of food. A stray piece of chicken fell onto the table and she picked it up with her fingers, put it back into her mouth.

  “You’re disgusting,” Valerie said, her face contorted.

  “Girls, let your mother finish.” Leon tried to sound tough but at well under six feet and weighing little more than his daughters, it came off pathetic.

  Aja held her glass up and pretended like everything was fine. “To Val for making Dean’s list again last semester. We were so busy this summer I never got to formally congratulate you. Keep it up and you’ll be graduating summa cum laude just like your mother.”

  Valerie pretended to be embarrassed. “Mom,” she groaned. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “Not that big of a deal?” Aja said. “This time next year you’ll be in med school. We’ll have another doctor in the family.”

  Leon lowered his glass when he saw the way Vickie stared across the table. She’d been trying to shock her family all night—and for the last two weeks, ever since she started this punk th
ing—but now she seemed genuinely angry. It was an emotion he’d never seen in his youngest daughter. Combine that with the pale skin and nose piercing and you had Leon’s blood pressure rising well above normal.

  Aja was going on and on about Val, about how she was making her parents so damned proud. With each compliment, something in Vickie’s eyes grew darker. Suddenly the wine was giving him cottonmouth. Suddenly he wanted to excuse himself from the table.

  Suddenly Leon Bronson was scared of his teenage daughter.

  He kicked his wife under the table but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead she asked Val if she’d rather go to Harvard or Stanford.

  “I haven’t really thought about it,” Val said, as if she hadn’t mentioned both choices a hundred times in the last year alone. She turned to her sister. “Say, Vickie, how are your grades these days? From what I hear, they’re… shall we say, less than perfect.”

  Vickie tore a drumstick from the bird, ripped away chunks of dark meat, and swallowed quickly. Leon thought she resembled a cannibal. “My grades are fine. Don’t concern yourself too much.”

  “Concern myself?” Val said, a smug smirk on her face. “Why, I think you should be the one worrying. I hate to sound self-absorbed but take a look around this table. You’ve got a lot to live up to and right now, Sis, you’re failing miserably.”

  It happened so quickly Leon thought he might have dreamt it.

  One moment Vickie was chewing her meat, the drumstick still in her hand, and the next she was reaching across the table toward Val. At first she just slapped her sister. That was bad enough, but when his mind caught up and he saw the fork in her hand, saw the way she pointed it like a weapon, he wanted to scream.

  The business end landed directly into Val’s forearm. Her tanned skin turned a shade of crimson as blood leaked from four protrusions in the flesh. At first she didn’t move, only stared at the utensil sticking out of her, but then she pounded the table with her good hand and began to cry and shout.