We Came Back
Page 26
Assuming, of course, those days ever came. They certainly wouldn’t if they didn’t get out of the school as fast as possible.
The tunnel shook. At first he thought it was an earthquake or perhaps a tsunami. Every now and then, during his shifts at the supermarket, his manager called impromptu disaster meetings and discussed how they would respond to such a crisis. Tsunamis were unlikely, but if they did happen, Lynnwood was, for lack of a better term, screwed along with every other coastal town. Now, Justin thought of being buried alive down here, trapped with the thing that had once been Melvin Brown.
When the shaking grew to a crescendo, he saw he’d been wrong. It wasn’t a disaster. Not a natural one at least. Melvin was expanding somehow, like a balloon with an abundance of air. His form was changing, molding into something even more hideous, if that were possible. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but Justin was certain they didn’t want to be anywhere near this tunnel when Melvin’s form finally settled on a new shape.
No, he thought. That thing isn’t changing. It’s damaged by the camera. It’s trying to recoup, but it’s beyond that now.
It’s getting ready to blow.
Alyssa was inconsolable, and rightly so, but they couldn’t afford to be heartbroken right now. That would come later, during the closed casket funeral for which there would be no body to display.
“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “But he wouldn’t want you to die down here. Do you hear me? He’d want you to live a long and happy life.”
“He’s gone,” she said several times.
Instead of reasoning with her, Justin used his good arm to tear her away from the scene. He was thankful for all those sleepless nights, for all the tender muscle pain he’d experienced in his makeshift gym. It had come in handy after all.
Bits of stone crumbled from the walls as Melvin’s form expanded and molded to the tunnel’s edges, becoming a giant cube, a large mass of ever-changing tissue.
Justin guided Alyssa. She cried and begged for Frank to be alive, but she’d given up some of the fight as he pulled her toward the stairs. He didn’t dare look back. To do so would seal their fate down here. There were perhaps only a few seconds left to get to the access door before Melvin caught up. Justin could hear him back there, gaining. He felt the thing’s aura as it floated through the air, seeking entry into his mind. He’d already hosted that voice in his head. He wasn’t sure he could do so again and keep his sanity.
The stairs came into view. Justin pushed Alyssa forward, told her to run as fast as she could. He’d be right behind her, he promised. She climbed much quicker than him. He saw her speed through the doorway just as he tripped on the sixth and final step. He tumbled face down to the cold metal of the staircase. To get up from his position seemed impossible. There was too much pain and exhaustion. Against his will, he risked a glance down the tunnel.
But wished he hadn’t, wished he could be back home right now, under the warmth of his comforter, wished all this were some post-traumatic stress nightmare sequence from losing his father.
Nightmares, as he’d learned, weren’t just for the sleeping.
A few yards into the tunnel, gaining much quicker than he’d expected, Justin saw Melvin. Countless more limbs had sprouted from his body and the teeth had grown longer, more like freshly sharpened blades now.
From behind, he thought he heard the door grinding, the metal clamps squeaking as it closed. Melvin would not let him leave. He would die down here just like Frank and roughly half of his senior class.
He was preparing himself for the pain and the tearing of his flesh when something grabbed him. It was not an appendage or tendril, but it was a warm, familiar hand and it guided him back onto his feet and into the ROTC storage room.
Alyssa pushed him aside and shoved the door closed, checking the latch a dozen times. On the other side, they heard Melvin collide against the thick steel frame, the sound thundering like a gunshot, apt in some horrible way.
For a moment, Justin was certain the door would bulge and tear from the pressure, but it had been built to withstand the splitting of an atom, and even the thing on the other side, no matter how unnaturally strong it may have been, could not pass through its armor.
They listened to those sounds for a long time, crying like newborns and holding each other, rocking gently in arms that had not been touched in months. Eventually, when the tunnel sounded as though it had stopped collapsing and the thing had stopped prying against the door, they helped each other up the second set of stairs, down the desecrated halls, and out the crumbling front doors of the old Lynnwood High School.
The mist was beginning to break up.
Chapter Thirty-Three
It was nearly a year later when the town decided to tear the place down.
The months following that Halloween did not turn out as Justin had expected. He and Alyssa did not start dating again or fall madly in love despite what they’d experienced together. It was not like the movies, where grief and pain brought people together in the end.
The rest of their senior year flew by quickly, with little time for romance. They saw each other occasionally after Justin and Mona moved across town, but certainly not as much as before. He thought it would be impossible to fall asleep without watching from his bedroom window, but the first night, after a full day of unpacking boxes, he found the opposite to be true. He slept better than he had since before his father was sick.
That was another thing that shocked Justin. He didn’t visit the cemetery nearly as much. It wasn’t for lack of interest. He still drove there every month or so, but it felt different somehow. He didn’t get the same feeling in his chest when he saw Bruce Wright’s name in stone, as if his father wasn’t there anymore, not in any literal sense. Maybe, he’d thought over several root beers, his father had been closer all along.
His mother cut down on her hours and eventually found a new job, one that shocked Justin so much he’d thought it was a joke, all things considered, until her new business opened its doors that spring.
“It’ll work this time,” she’d said. “Just wait and see.”
“What makes you say that?” he’d asked as she signed the loan papers from the bank.
“Call it a hunch.”
The new joke shop didn’t take off right away but it brought in a lot more customers in its second incarnation. The photo supply store had closed its doors after looters wrecked the place during The Night of the Vamps, a term Justin had heard so much in the last few months that he sometimes forgot it wasn’t all a movie, though he’d heard one was in pre-production (“based on true events” would no doubt grace the poster). Elaine’s Tourist Trap didn’t just sell jokes and gags. There were trinkets and accessories, magnets and mugs, that visitors ate up. She made a decent living, and Justin thought on several occasions that Bruce would have himself a good laugh at that.
One night, a few weeks after graduation, Justin received a phone call after nodding off in bed. He’d been up playing Xbox with Art. Actually playing this time instead of being a stalker as his friend was fond of saying. “Hello,” Justin said without reading the name on the screen. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming.
“It’s me,” Alyssa said on the other end of the line. “Did I wake you?”
He covered the phone and yawned, cleared his throat. “No, I was just watching a movie.”
“You still can’t lie worth a shit.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t it be?” He could see her pacing around her room, looking mildly annoyed.
“We haven’t exactly met under normal circumstances in recent times.”
“I guess you’re right. Which brings me to why I called.” She trailed off.
His heart skipped a beat. Was she asking him back out? Had enough time passed that they could see each other again?
“They’re tearing it down tomorrow.”
“Tearing what down?” he said, though he knew the answer in h
is gut.
“The old high school. I don’t know who finally made the decision, but it’s about time. Sometimes I think if it hadn’t been for that pile of junk, if they’d only torn it down sooner, maybe…”
“Don’t,” he said. “That’s not a road you want to go down.”
“Too late for that. I’ve been down it more than a few times. Except it’s more of a tunnel.”
He shivered at the word. Though she was the braver of the two, he imagined she did the same.
“I want you to come with me,” she said. “I want us to watch it fall to the ground together.”
He thought about all the times he’d avoided that part of town. It was the quickest route to the cinema and the highway beyond. Whenever he and Art went to the mall two towns over they always took the long way. Art never once questioned it, never cracked a joke. For that, Justin was thankful. “Yes,” he said finally. “Of course.”
“Great. I think this will be good. For both of us.”
Both of us. Had that been a hint, some secret suggestion that they could be together again? Or maybe he was reading too much into it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said. “Pick me up at noon. The demolition doesn’t start until one but I want a good seat.”
He said goodnight and hung up. Sleep evaded him for a while. Just like old times, he thought. His weights were in the corner of his new room, still packed away. He considered picking them up again, but thought better of it. Instead he walked to his window, still shocked when he didn’t see the Tanner residence, now five miles away.
Despite the humidity in his room, his skin grew frigid when he looked at the street.
A mist was beginning to form.
●●●
The next day, Justin walked up the Tanners’ steps and rang the doorbell. From her room, Alyssa heard her mother going on and on about how happy she was to see him, how Frank would’ve said the same thing.
Justin had always been awkward around her parents and part of her wanted to listen from the hall and imagine him squirming, but she didn’t want to be late for the big show and she was surprised to see them having what seemed to be an actual conversation when she went downstairs.
She was also surprised to see how much he’d changed in the past months. They’d seen each other at school, and occasionally on weekends, but she hadn’t noticed the transformation until now. His hair was a bit longer and his face was covered with a layer of dark whiskers, a five o’clock shadow that she found interesting. He didn’t look like the baby-faced boy she’d dated one year prior.
She supposed life did that to you. She’d spent plenty of nights observing herself in the mirror. There were dark bags under her eyes that refused to leave, no matter how many creams she applied. She even had a few gray strands of hair.
“You ready?” she said.
Justin nodded. He held a large cup of coffee that smelled vaguely of vanilla. He looked just as tired as she felt and for some odd reason that made her feel at ease.
“Where are you guys off to?” Mona said, pouring herself a cup of tea. Her mother, strangely enough, didn’t look a day older. She hadn’t shed so much as a tear since The Night of the Vamps, but Alyssa was certain her mother cried when no one was looking. She was just better at hiding it.
“Lunch. Justin is taking me out to lunch, a new place on Main Street.”
“Sounds like fun,” Mona said. “Enjoy yourselves and be careful. Both of you.”
She’s not stupid, Alyssa thought. She knows exactly where we’re going. She grabbed Justin’s arm, which didn’t seem quite as big anymore. “Let’s get going. I hear the place gets busy on the weekends.”
They said goodbye and stepped into the car, Justin holding open the passenger door like a gentleman, like this was a date. Maybe, in some strange way, it was.
She’d expected a large crowd, considering how many people had been affected by the vamps, but there were only a few attendees when they arrived, most of them watching from far back. Justin drove as close as they were legally allowed and cut the engine. “You sure about this?” he said.
“Positive.” She got out of the car and sat on the hood. From her pocket, she took out a package of earplugs and handed two to Justin. “For the blast,” she said.
He nodded, put them in, and sipped his coffee.
An hour later, and three minutes ahead of schedule, they heard someone shout something and suddenly there was an earth-trembling boom, the sound strong enough to shake the ground beneath. It felt so similar to the night in the tunnel, she thought she’d wake up and still be there, her hair pulled tight and tearing from her scalp as Busty prepared to end her life.
But after blinking several times, she was still above ground, sitting on the hood of her ex-boyfriend’s car. She leaned close and yelled over the controlled demolition. “Do you think it could’ve survived?”
“I hope not,” he said into her ear. The explosions stopped and suddenly he was shouting too loudly, as if cheering. He lowered his voice. “But sometimes bad things have a way of sticking around, you know? No matter how hard you try to lock them away.”
“What do we do if it comes back? If they come back?”
He took her hand into his and squeezed. “The same thing we did before. We fight.”
Dust erupted into the air, forming dark clouds that broke apart when they floated into the sky, as the walls of the old Lynnwood High School toppled to the ground, sealing whatever may have lived within.
●●●
Beneath the ROTC storage room, which was now a pile of debris, the old access tunnel was still sealed. Its walls were strong, made to withstand much more powerful explosions. The foundation had weakened, though, and there were still piles of dynamite to be detonated, all of which were meant to demolish even the lowest parts of the property.
The walls were cool and dry and the puddle that had been there months earlier, the last remains of nearly two hundred high school seniors, had long since evaporated. Even the graffiti, the drawings of strange creatures with too many eyes and mouths, had faded so that they looked like smudges of dirt.
From above ground, the world shook as the vehicles and the wrecking ball did their job.
In the darkness, there was movement, as if something slithered deeper into the tunnel, but it could’ve just been the foundation cracking.
About the Author
Patrick Lacey was born and raised in a haunted house. He spends his nights and weekends writing about things that make the general public uncomfortable. He lives in Massachusetts with his Pomeranian, his mustached cat, and his muse, who is likely trying to kill him. Find him on Facebook, follow him on Twitter (@patlacey), or visit his website at https://patrickclacey.wordpress.com.
Coming Soon
Stone Wall by Dominic Stabile
Episodes of Violence by David Bernstein
Brain Dead Blues by Matt Hayward
Find these and other horrific books at www.sinistergrinpress.com
Table of Contents
We Came Back
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
/> Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
About the Author
Coming Soon