Demonica

by Preston Norton

  Not that I was a regular in the principal’s office, but in these past five days, the place had undergone a severe makeover. Less prim and proper. More séance central.

  All of the windows had been blocked out with heavy black curtains. The only light came from dozens of flickering candles. They littered every elevated flat surface. The walls were painted in peculiar triangular shapes, pentacles, and eerie emblematic eyes. I observed one particular looping symbol up close and wiped it with a single finger.

  The residue was red. Blood.

  Zoey gestured for me to follow her deeper into the office. I reluctantly complied. We did not travel far before she came to a quick halt. I took one step further and my foot connected with something. I nearly tripped. My arms wavered for balance, and I barely managed to catch myself and stagger back. But not before catching an all-too-vivid glance at the ground.

  It was a human body—robed entirely in black with the long hood pulled over its face.

  My gaze pulled back, adjusting to the darkness. There were several bodies. Nearly a dozen. Their bloodied, black-robed corpses were arranged in a circle, touching head to foot.

  “Zoey…what is this?” I asked.

  “It’s a Blood Gate. Black magic at its worst. By using human sacrifices forming a circle, the blood and magic create a one-way teleportation gateway. This is how Principal Marion…I mean…whatever the hell her name is… This is how she got out.”

  “Good lord.”

  “The number of sacrifices determines the distance you can travel. Explains why she talked all of the teachers into separating themselves from the students. And the way they’re dressed, I’d say she or Lillith mind-controlled them.”

  “Why didn’t she just walk out of here like everyone else?”

  “Well, judging from the smell—” Zoey made a gaging face. “—I’d say these poor bastards have been dead for a while. She probably created the Blood Gate the first or second day of the quarantine.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Before I puke on a dead body.”

  We hastily exited the death room. Zoey proceeded to take the lead down the hallway as my struggled to process everything.

  “So Principal Marion has been gone this whole time,” I said.

  “Yep.”

  “But she’s a Demon. I mean, there’s no way she’d be afraid of the police and their guns, right? Dante said the only thing that can kill a Demon is the Demon Dagger.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Which leads me to believe that whoever was responsible for the quarantine set up some sort of barrier to keep the Demons in as well. One of the primary points of the Blood Gate is to penetrate supernatural defenses and barriers, so it makes sense.”

  “Wait. Are you saying those sketchy government dudes trapped the Demons in here? Like…using magic and shit?”

  “There are a lot of things that strike me as fishy. First off, Demons like Lillith and Bubba choosing to stay here in a quarantined school with surveillance cameras watching them twenty-four seven. Second, the quarantine lasting as long as it did with nobody coming in here to test for the virus. Mr. Garrison and the nurse were showing full symptoms of the virus within the first twelve hours. And then four days of waiting, and…nothing. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  She was right. This whole situation was fishy. But dwelling on unanswerable questions wasn’t going to get us anywhere. “So what’s the good news?”

  Zoey offered a reluctant smile. “We have another Demon lead. Yay.”

  “What? Who? And, like, how?”

  “I was talking to Levi earlier. He told me he saw something weird. Like, weirder than zombies, obviously. Something that involves one of our classmates. He said I’d think he was crazy if he told me, so he wants to show us the pictures he took. If that doesn’t sound like a Demon lead, I don’t know what does.”

  “He took pictures?”

  It’s Levi. Of course he took pictures.

  “So where are they?”

  Zoey reached into her pocket, removing a slip of paper. “235 Crestwood Drive. It’s just a couple blocks from here. Levi develops all his photos at home because…yeah, he’s Levi. So he left early to get them ready for us. God, I just hope he’s still alive. Between Eli and all the zombies out there…”

  “Wait. You mean…?”

  Zoey came to a halt, and it wasn’t until now that I realized where we were walking. The buzzing flies should have been an indicator. We were standing at the main entryway, stacked with corpses.

  “Yes, we’re gonna have to traverse a couple blocks through Zombieland,” said Zoey. “You ready for this?”

  My mind faltered. Dozens of unspoken concerns were suddenly popping up.

  “What about our families?” I asked.

  “They’ll be fine,” she said.

  Just like that. Like these were special vegetarian zombies and we had nothing to worry about.

  “You don’t know that. Zombies could be eating their brains right now.”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me on this one. Right now, the most important thing that we can be doing is hunting down and killing these Demons.”

  “Trust you?” I said. I eyed her skeptically. “Zoey, you’re not telling me something. What?”

  Zoey sighed. Her eyes fixed to the side. “There’s a witch that I’ve been communicating with since I’ve been in here. She’s watching over both of our families. I trust her with my life.”

  “A witch?” I said. “Zoey, we’ve already established that your stupid coven leader, or whatever the hell she is, is being led by a Demon! You may trust her with your life, but I don’t trust her with shit.”

  “Well you should.”

  “Well I don’t!”

  Zoey sighed. She fidgeted with her hands, and her gaze shifted to the floor. Not a comforting sign.

  “Monica,” she said. “If I tell you who she is, you have to promise me you won’t freak out.”

  Oh god. “Why would I freak out?” I asked, even though I really didn’t want to know anymore.

  Zoey’s gaze met mine. “It’s your mom.”

  27

  Zombieland

  If this was a joke, it was the worst one that had ever come out of Zoey’s mouth. And believe me, Zoey had told some of the worst jokes to ever pretend they had a punch line. I opened my mouth for some sort of response. Anything. Instead, my mouth just kind of gaped open like fish drowning in oxygen.

  My mother.

  Martha Binsfeld.

  A witch?

  “I know this sounds crazy—” said Zoey.

  “Crazy?” I said. “Zoey, crazy is having your very own high school zombie apocalypse. We just did crazy. This? This is fucking apeshit.”

  “Well…I’m a witch,” she said, as if this suddenly justified the trend. “And I’m your best friend.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not my mom! You didn’t, like, push me out of your uterus all slimy and covered in afterbirth snot and give me half of your genetic code. I mean, shit. She alphabetizes our canned food! Who the hell alphabetizes their canned food? Not a witch, that’s for damn sure.”

  I was too out of my head to realize that this argument made absolutely no sense.

  Zoey sighed and tucked her thump into the right-side waist of her pants. Pulling the waistline down, she revealed a tattoo just above her panty line—a pentagram circled in Latin-esque script. “Does this look familiar?”

  The tattoo was smaller and obviously in a different place. But it was identical to my mom’s.

  “B-b-b-but...when does she even have time to be a witch?”

  “Every third Friday of the month? At Principal Marion’s book club?”

  My jaw became this disconnected thing hanging from my face.

  “Be honest,” said Zoey. “When have you ever act
ually seen your mom read that steamy romance shit? Romance is Red, Violence is Blue? Really?”

  My stomach twisted into an even tighter knot. I had completely forgotten about this undeniable tie that my mother and several other women in Villeneuve had with Principal Marion. What better way to gather a bunch of middle-aged women together to do séances and sacrifice goats and commune with fucking Satan and Sauron and shit. Like, the Occult is the new Oprah, bitches.

  The more I thought about it, I had no recollection of hanging out with Zoey during my mom’s once-a-month excursions.

  “Your mom has been a witch longer than anyone else in Villeneuve,” said Zoey. “Even before Principal Marion came to town and started recruiting witches. She’s a legend, Monica. She’s the only witch who wasn’t given her powers. Your mom hates the way Marion runs things. The only reason your mom meets with Marion’s coven is to keep an eye on her. Honestly, it’s the only reason she still practices the craft. That’s how I know I can trust her.”

  I suddenly felt very dizzy.

  “Now this is one I figured out on my own,” said Zoey, “but how exactly do you think Casey learned how to make a Deal with a Demon in the first place?”

  “What? No. Are you saying my mom…?”

  “I don’t think she showed him. But I do think Casey probably stumbled across your mom’s Book of Craft and learned how to do it on his own. It does explain how to perform rituals like that after all.”

  The way all of these pieces were coming together was mind-numbing. Knowing that Casey made a Deal with a Demon (even if it was Dante) was bad enough. But now, the root of the problem went even deeper. My mom had been involved in this book club for as long as I could remember, which meant she had been a witch all these years. I was sure Casey had realized as much. It certainly explained how he could feel justified doing something this grandiosely idiotic.

  “So you’ve been communicating with my mom since the quarantine?” I asked.

  “She promised to protect my family if I promised to protect you. Not that you need protection or anything.”

  “Yeah. But I could sure use all the help I can get.”

  “Somebody’s gotta look after your soulless ginger ass.”

  I laughed. And I smiled! God, when was the last time I smiled? “Let’s go see what Levi has for us, shall we?”

  Zoey responded with her typical cheeky smile. “You betcha.”

  Exiting through the front entrance was only slightly impossible, blockaded by dozens of corpses sprawled on top of each other. Fortunately, one of the glass doors opened just a smidgen enough for us to squeeze through. It was just an unpleasant matter of stepping over and around the bodies, the dried blood, and most of all, the lifeless eyes peering up at us.

  We finally emerged through the open door slit, stumbling outside. I cherished my first breath of fresh air in what felt like ages.

  And then my victory died. An overcast sky hung over an abandoned landscape. Guns and police equipment were scattered across the schoolyard. There were patches of blood-stained grass. But no bodies.

  I had my suspicion why.

  “Where do you think all the zombies are?” asked Zoey.

  “I don’t know. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  We started across the lawn. Zoey hastily removed a rifle from the ground and a small box of ammunition beside it. With shocking ease, she opened the chamber, only to find that it was loaded. She clicked it shut, flipped the safety off, and cocked it.

  “Son of a fuck! When did you learn how to use a gun?”

  Zoey was busy emptying the box of bullets into her tight spare pockets. She tossed the cardboard container aside. “I had my Uncle Carl teach me last summer,” she said. “I thought it’d be useful to learn. You know. In case Casey ever asked me to go shooting with him.”

  Of course.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier just to use your witch power?” I asked. I was slightly uncomfortable at the sight of Zoey with a loaded firearm.

  “Come on, Monica,” said Zoey, rolling her eyes. “Haven’t you ever played Resident Evil?”

  “Um. Should I have?”

  “You can only kill a zombie by shooting it in the brain or severing the head from the body. I figure if worse comes to worst, I can do the brain-shooting and you can do the decapitating.”

  “Says a video game. And for the record, I’m not decapitating anything.”

  “Well I’m keeping the gun.”

  Our walk was a silent one. Zoey led the way down the empty street. There was not a person in sight, living, dead, or undead. No vehicles passed. The empty lifelessness of Villeneuve was more than eerie. It made me feel all the more visible to any eyes that might be watching.

  My thoughts drifted to Casey. Did my parents get him safely out of the hospital? Werewolf or not, I was worried senseless about the shithead. I couldn’t wait for life to become normal again. For Zoey to resume her stupid Casey crush. To try and talk to my dad while he yelled at the ref on TV.

  Also, I couldn’t wait to kill Principal Marion and have my mom hopefully become a normal mom for the first time in her parenting career.

  And then there was Dante. Where did he fit in my plans for a normal life? Was it even possible for me to be normal again?

  Speaking of which… Where was Dante?

  Sure, that barrier thingy prevented him from entering. But now, after escaping from a five-day quarantine, where was he? Wouldn’t he have found me already? I’d been out for about ten minutes now.

  As absurd as it sounded, I kind of expected him to be waiting outside for me the moment I stepped outside.

  And that’s when a figure staggered out into the intersecting street up ahead.

  Zoey froze alongside me. It was definitely a zombie—a literally decaying old man with blood stains on his ugly wool cardigan and high-water trousers. His skin was nearly as gray as his hair, scarred and rotten. Milky bloodshot eyes bulged from his emaciated face. He stared off vacantly as he wandered.

  Slowly, almost hesitantly, Zoey raised her rifle. “Let’s get closer.”

  “Closer?” I said. I shook my head vigorously. “Nuh-uh. No way we’re getting closer to that thing, just so you can shoot it.”

  Zoey nodded to the intersecting street. “That’s Levi’s street up there.”

  I glanced from Zoey, past the undead senior citizen, to the green street sign up ahead: Crestwood Dr.

  “Great,” I said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Once again, Zoey took the lead, steadily approaching the undead old dude. She kept the rifle up, not daring to let him out of her crosshairs. Finally, about thirty feet or so away, we stopped. He still hadn’t noticed us yet. Zoey’s finger was tense on the trigger. I cringed, covering my ears.

  Zoey dropped the gun. “I can’t do it.”

  “What?” I said. I dropped my hands to my side at this anticlimactic turn of events. “What do you mean you can’t do it?”

  “Look at him,” said Zoey. “He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on. And…I mean…he kinda looks like my grandpa.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “Well let’s try sneaking past him then.”

  This time I took the lead, stalking silently away from Zombie Gramps. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of him, instead creeping sideways to the corner of Crestwood Drive. Zoey followed my awkward motion, glancing rapidly back and forth between our destination and her undead familial resemblance.

  The zombie paused his disjointed shuffling. His decaying nostrils flared as he very distinctly sniffed the air. Two pale milky eyes shifted to us.

  Zoey screamed.

  Two things happened almost simultaneously. The zombie’s lips peeled back, revealing rotten yellow incisors as it snarled. And then Zoey whipped her rifle up, barely giving a second to aim before she fired.

  The shot seemed to ech
o throughout the neighborhood for miles. Blood sprayed as the bullet connected with its forehead. The creature didn’t even let out a croak as it fell to the asphalt, deader than ever.

  “Wow,” I said. “Good shot.”

  Zoey was speechless. She simply nodding, lowering the gun.

  Reality registered with our bodies. Picking up speed, we rounded the corner.

  And froze.

  For as far as I could see, zombies were scattered throughout the street. Some with dismembered limbs, others limping on ravaged legs. But all of them were splattered in dark, dried blood, contrasting their milky white stares

  All heads turned to us.

  28

  Doppelgänger

  The street was crowded but still. Dead. And yet very much alive with rotting parts twitching and shifting. Their cold, gray skin gleamed in the noonday sun, statuesque and grotesque. A sea of empty eyes stared with no pupils to guide them.

  “Zoey…what’s the address again?” I asked. I spoke through my teeth like a ventriloquist.

  “Uh…” said Zoey. “235… It’s 235.”

  I glanced to the house beside us. The number 217 was printed on the mailbox. From there on, I could see that the numbers were moving up.

  “Up ahead to the left,” I said. “Are you ready for this?”

  Zoey dropped the rifle, and fumbled to remove the lighter from her pocket. This almost made me smile. Almost. At this point, the army of the undead snapped out of their stupor. Grunts and snarls erupted. They lurched forward in a disorderly wave.

  Zoey and I broke into a sprint. The Demon Dagger whisked into my grasp, cool and deadly. I swung at the closest creature. Its fierce growl was cut short; its head toppled across asphalt. Zoey’s Resident Evil killing strategy was still engrained in my mind. My forward momentum did not slow as I aimed for my next target.

  To my right, I couldn’t help but notice an explosion of fire engulfing nearly a dozen zombies at once. Their screeches rang out in unison. Even if it wasn’t killing them immediately, it sure seemed a hell of a lot more effective than the stupid gun.