The Walls Around Us
Page 9
She didn’t recognize him.
Nathan’s face was the color of tar and covered with flies. His skin leaked dark fluid, which ran down his neck and swelled into a stain on his shirt. The smell was terrible. His eyes were cataract white, and she wondered if he could see her. She took a step forward. His eyes followed her movement.
“Oh, Nathan.” She was moaning, and the sound hung in her chest.
Nathan leaned forward, and she jumped away. He stopped, watched her for a moment, then leaned back against the wall.
Mattie let herself slide to the floor across from him. She held the gun between her knees and stared into the barrel. She thought about her father, about Nathan, about the promise to drive north if it came to that. She tried to imagine what they might’ve found up there, then smiled and traced the trigger of the rifle with her toe.
If it came to that.
From the hallway, she heard the familiar creak of footsteps on the stairs. They were close now, and Mattie pushed herself to her feet. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand then lifted the gun to her shoulder. Nathan sat unmoving, his blond hair dripping down his forehead.
Mattie stood over him. “I’m so sorry, Nathan,” she said. The muscles in her arms burned under the weight of the gun. Outside, the sun was coming up orange, and the light leaked through the curtains into the room.
She closed her eyes, and all she could hear was the grinding buzz of the flies. They surrounded her, unrelenting and constant. The sound pushed through everything until it was all that was left. After a moment, she looked up. Nathan was watching her.
They were all watching.
Mattie took a deep breath and began to count.
One…
Afterword
“A Sharp White Light” was originally published in Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine in 2005. This is the last short story I wrote and the only straightforward mystery I’ve ever done. When I started working on it, I wanted to write something longer than anything I’d written before, and doing that presented an entirely new set of challenges. At the time, most of my stories clocked in at around 3000 words. When I finished “A Sharp White Light,” it was almost four times that length, and for the first time I saw how I could expand a story line to fit multiple scenes and characters. It was the boost of confidence I needed to start seriously considering working on a novel. This story also turned out to be a testing ground for characters and plot ideas that I eventually used in later books.
“Rivers” was the only short story I wrote that was never published. It came close a few times, but something about children killing children didn’t sit well with editors (go figure). I liked the basic idea behind the story, and I’ve since turned it into a novella. It’s not quite ready to see the light of day, but it’s coming.
“The Walls Around Us” was written in 2002 and originally published in The Seattle Review in 2004. It’s also the first real short story I ever wrote. Before “Walls,” I was mostly writing fragments of scenes and dialog and calling them stories even though they weren’t. This was the first piece I wrote that felt complete. This was also the first story that surprised me. The homage to Poe was accidental, and the ending presented itself while I was writing. The surprise of seeing how the story was about to unfold was something I’ve never forgotten, and it remains one of the ongoing joys of writing.
“To Lay Down With Animals” was the last short story I wrote in 2005 and was originally published in Pulp Pusher in 2007. This is one of the darker stories I’ve written, and I had a hard time finding a publisher for this one in the US. One editor sent a rejection that can only be described as hate mail. Luckily, the story found its way overseas and was picked up by the talented Tony Black for his noir-zine. Unfortunately, like so many short fiction markets, Pulp Pusher no longer exists.
“Folded Blue” started life as a writing exercise. When I’m stuck, or can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence, I’ll sit down and write a scene with two characters. I won’t think about where it’s going or try to influence the story in any way. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. In this case, it turned into something I was not expecting. I never tried to publish “Folded Blue” until this year when it was published in a wonderful new noir-zine called Shotgun Honey.
“The Firebird” was originally published in The Edge: An Anthology of Crime Fiction in 2005. It was one of my early attempts at crime fiction, and it turned out much more whimsical than I’d intended. Something about a stoner main character melting down in the desert heat struck me as funny, and the story developed all on its own.
“A Season of Sleep” was originally published in the zombie anthology, COLD FLESH, in 2003. It has been reprinted several times in other magazines and anthologies, and it remains one of my favorites. I started the story thinking it was going to be about a young girl who goes crazy and starts shooting her neighbors, but it quickly turned into something different. Lucky for me, I wrote it right as the current zombie craze was kicking into gear, and it sold right away.
About the Author
JOHN RECTOR is the author of the novels Already Gone, The Cold Kiss (optioned for a feature film now in development), and The Grove. His short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and won several awards including the Porterhouse prize. He lives in Omaha, Nebraska with his family.