Horror Sci-Fi Box Set: Three Novels

by Bryan Dunn

  Carla and Nguyen had gone all out, telling everyone, “Coffee and apple pie is on the house.”

  “Daisy, that’s what I’m gonna call her,” Karl said. He had finally settled on a pet name for the plane.

  “What happened to Chronic Bitcher?” Sam asked, stirring his coffee. “Much more colorful.”

  Karl forked in a chunk of apple pie and washed it down with a gulp of coffee. “Too cynical. I don’t feel that way towards her anymore. Nope, it’s going to be Daisy. Besides, it has sentimental attachment.”

  “Let me guess,” said Rufus. “Name of the girl that stood you up for your high school prom.”

  “No. God, no!” laughed Karl. “Daisy was the name of the best dammed Labrador retriever I ever owned.” He pushed his plate away and leaned back from the table. “And unlike you, Rufus, you old hermit—I actually went to my high school prom.”

  Rufus chewed on that for a moment, then shot back with, “Didn’t know they allowed dogs to them things.”

  * * *

  Outside, a VW camper bus pulled up and parked in front of the store. The engine stopped, but the music continued. Pounding speed metal—loud industrial stuff—Metallica, or maybe Nine Inch Nails, echoed out from the van and filled the town.

  Dust and dirt had turned the white camper a dirty beige. The rear window and back hatch were papered with bumper stickers: Free Tibet, Coachella 2011, Question Authority, Nirvana, Dog is My Co-Pilot, Mystery Spot, Peace, I Survived Burning Man, The Cure, Ministry, Bad Religion.

  The doors were flung open, and a collection of San Francisco street kids—a Goth, two rivetheads, and a couple of wannabe hippies—poured out onto the hardpan. Odd bedfellows indeed!

  The group was made up of two girls and three guys, all in their twenties. Lander and Maya, dressed in sandals, shorts, and tutti-frutti T-shirts, were the two 60’s throwback hippie impersonators. The remaining three—Kristin, Donnie, and Spider—were clad in a mix of camo pants, leather jackets, and Doc Martin boots. In true rivethead style, Donnie and Spider’s jackets were heavily studded front and back.

  Kristin was working the Goth thing big time. Dead girl makeup. Jet black hair moused into liberty spikes. And a pyramid-shaped stud protruding from her lower lip that completed the stay-the-fuck-away-from-me look.

  Donnie and Spider bounced into the middle of the street and began playing air guitar, writhing to the music.

  Maya began brushing Lander’s hair, trying to coax it into a ponytail, and Kristin, looking totally bored, lit a cigarette and wandered over to Nguyen’s porch.

  * * *

  Inside, Tommy was watching the group through the store window. He moved to the register when the door banged open and Donnie entered yelling, “Resupply!”

  Behind Donnie, the rest of the group surged through the door, descending on the isles like starving jackals.

  Sam, Karl, and Rufus remained in their seats, happy to watch the commotion from the diner. Carla removed her apron and hurried over to help Tommy with the rush of customers.

  “Look what the coyote dragged in,” said Rufus, shaking his head.

  Karl chuckled. “Got that about right.”

  “Those are the kids camping up at Big Caliente Hot Springs,” said Sam. “Tommy said they came in last week, bought up half the place.”

  “Looks like a damn zombie movie over there,” added Rufus. “Je-sus.”

  “The undead,” laughed Sam. “Well, I for one don’t want to get bitten on the neck and turned into a crazed flesh eater.” He pushed back from the table and stood. “Besides, I better get back, make sure Curley hasn’t burnt the place down.”

  The counter next to Tommy had been stacked with supplies—cases of beer, potato chips, canned food, bread, cold cuts, Gatorade, candy bars, cookies, you name it. Spider grabbed a jar of Slim Jims that was next to the register, started to remove a few sticks, then stopped, dropped them back in, and placed the entire jar on the top of the stack. “That too,” he said, a triumphant look on his face.

  “You want the whole jar?” asked Tommy.

  Spider flashed a goofy grin and nodded his head like a bobblehead doll, looking totally buzzed. Which he was.

  “Okay. How would you like to pay?”

  “I wouldn’t,” said Spider. He turned and yelled to Lander who was standing by a rack, trying on sunglasses with Maya. “Lander, dude… we need plastic over here.”

  Lander slipped on a pair of sunglasses with bright orange frames and looked at Spider. “What do you think? Are they me?”

  “Perfect. You look like a complete douche bag.”

  Lander flipped him off, then started to remove the sunglasses, stopped, pushed them

  up the bridge of his nose and stepped up to the counter. “American Express okay?”

  “Sure. As long as it’s yours,” said Tommy.

  That caused Spider to bust out laughing. “Trust me, it’s his. His old man owns half of Silicon Valley.”

  Tommy studied the card, nodded, then looked up at Lander. “You want the sunglasses too?

  Lander removed the sunglasses, then slipped them back on. “Add to cart.”

  Donnie was at the far end of the counter studying a cool little plant. It was a creeper clipping that Doc had given Nguyen earlier in the week. Donnie grabbed the pot, held it up, and yelled to Tommy, “How much for this?”

  Without missing a beat, Tommy fired back, “Twenty dollars. Very rare.”

  Donnie looked at Lander…

  “Cool. That’s totally wack-looking. We’ll take it.”

  Chapter 26

  Sam was lashing down his load of irrigation line when he noticed Kristin come out of Nguyen’s and march directly towards the camper van. She was walking with purpose, like she was on a mission.

  A minute later, a loosely packed duffle bag was tossed out the side door, then Kristin climbed out, retrieved the bag, and started back to the store.

  Sam stopped what he was doing and watched her, thinking, She’s probably about the same age as my little sister would’ve been if she were still alive. But never in his wildest dreams could he imagine Jenny being into the Night of the Living Dead, Goth look.

  Kristin noticed him staring. She stopped, dropped her bag, and then gave him a direct look. “What are you looking at, Perv?”

  “I don’t know. Are you a zombie?”

  “Very funny, creep.” She picked up her bag, started walking again, then stopped, cast her eyes up and down the street, and looked at Sam. “I don’t suppose there’s a motel in this bumble-fuck town?”

  “Nope. Furnace Valley isn’t exactly a tourist destination. You should’ve brought a camper van. Oh, wait—”

  Kristin flipped him off just as Maya, Lander, Donnie, and Spider all crashed out of Nguyen’s Place, arms bulging with supplies, and made a beeline for the van.

  After they’d loaded up, Donnie jumped in behind the wheel, then noticed Kristin standing on the porch next to her duffle bag. “Hey, Kris… Come on, we’re outta here.”

  “I’m not going,” she said, flicking her ash. “I’m staying here.”

  “What?” Donnie kicked open the door, dropped out of the van, and went to her. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re coming.”

  “I’m not,” said Kristin, in a firm tone.

  “But I thought we had a good thing. I thought we had it going on.”

  “A good thing?” Kristin laughed and shook her head. “You mean—me letting you fuck me when you’re not too wasted to get it up?”

  “What?” Donnie took a step back, not really knowing what to say. He started to speak, then stopped. It was clear he was hurt by her comment and wasn’t able to hide it. He looked at Kristin, shook his head. “You know what… fuck you!”

  Donnie spit on the ground. He turned and started back to the van, then stopped and yelled back, “I only fucked you ‘cause no one else was handy. Skank!”

  Kristin was about to flip him off and yell back when a couple of arms clamped around her,
stopping her from raising her hand.

  “Sweetie, no… no baby, what are you saying,” said Maya, who was suddenly hanging on her, tears forming in her eyes. She gave another squeeze. “You can’t leave us. You’ll ruin the chakra, the balance. We’ve got a whole vibe going. A groovy love energy working.”

  “Stop! For fuck’s sake stop. Stop with the new age bullshit, Maya.” Kristin twisted, breaking her hold. “The whole Haight-Ashbury, Summer of Love, flower-child thing was pretty much bullshit back in the 60’s—watching two spoiled brats from Sausalito trying to relive it is pathetic. You and Lander make me want to puke.”

  “Screw you!” Maya said, her eyes instantly drying.

  “Oh, and the free-love, open marriage thing your parents have going on… sick! It’s warped and creepy. They’re both perverts. Your dad need to sober-the-fuck up. And your mother needs to shave her armpits and strap on a bra before she starts tripping over her tits!”

  “Fuck you! Fuck you, Kristin! Fuck you, you Goth-bitch-freak!” Maya covered her mouth to keep from crying. She started for the van, then stopped and said, “What about your parents? Look at you. What happened to you, freak?”

  “My mom’s an alcoholic. She lives month-to-month waiting tables in Vegas. And my dad’s doing ten years in Pelican Bay on a counterfeiting rap. He’s very artistic.”

  “Come on, Maya,” Lander said, stepping around the van. “Forget her.”

  “Yeah, let’s go, Maya,” added Donnie. “We’ll leave the freak here.”

  Tears welled in Maya’s eyes. She ran to the van and into Lander’s arms.

  Kristin cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, Donnie, it’s a bad sign—”

  “What?” scowled Donnie. “What’s a bad sign?”

  “Your eyes—”

  “What about my eyes?”

  “They’re too close together!”

  Donnie started the engine. Then he stuck his hand out of the van, flipped her off, and yelled, “Fuck you!” He jammed it into first gear, hit the gas, and the van disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  “Now I guess you really do need a place to stay,” said Sam as he stepped around the truck and approached Kristin. He’d heard everything. He’d watched the whole melodrama unfold. The Summer of Love, indeed.

  Kristin looked at him, then smirked. “Let me guess. I could come stay at your place and we could get drunk, and then you could screw the shit out of me?”

  Sam laughed and shook his head. The girl had one hell of a mouth on her. Why even bother? He should just get in his truck and leave the little train wreck to sort things out on her own. She could sleep in Nguyen’s storeroom for all he cared.

  But what he said was, “Two no’s and a yes. Yes, you could come to my place and stay in the spare bedroom. No, we won’t be getting drunk. And no, I don’t want to sleep with you.”

  “I get it now. You like little boys.”

  Sam laughed. “Wow, you really do have a way with people.” He moved to the truck, hauled open the door, climbed into the cab, and was just about to start the engine, when—

  “Wait. If you really do have a spare room—I’d appreciate it.” Then she added, “Just for the night.”

  Sam stared at her, thinking about it. Taking his time. Making her sweat it just a little bit. Beneath all the attitude, Goth makeup, and gutter punk clothes—there was just a young girl trying to find her way in a crazy world. Plus, despite her mouth, he could tell she had potential, that she was bright and probably not some druggie burnout.

  Chapter 27

  It was late afternoon when Laura’s road-weary Honda pulled into downtown Furnace Valley. A thick coating of desert grit covered the car, and a branch of mesquite hung from the front bumper.

  Laura slowed, and as she pulled to a stop in front of Nguyen’s Place, her windshield was suddenly blasted by a stream of water. A moment later, and a second stream joined in.

  As the opaque layer of grime was washed off, Laura found herself staring at two 13-year-old boys. The Grogan twins—Billy and Josh—both of them pointing Super Soaker squirt guns at her car.

  The Grogan twins were a plague that descended on Furnace Valley with their mother every spring. They usually stayed through the beginning of May, leaving with the summer heat. It was June, and for some reason they hadn’t left yet.

  After they had emptied their guns, one of the twins blurted, “No charge for the car wash, lady!” Then they stuck out their tongues, screamed with laughter, and ran off down the street.

  Laura shook her head and killed the engine. Lovely kids, she thought to herself. Then she climbed out of the car, stretched, and took in the town. She looked flushed and hot and bone tired. It had been a long and nerve-wracking trip.

  Laura crossed the porch in front of Nguyen’s Place, and as she pushed through the door, she was greeted by Tommy who was standing by the register. “Welcome to Furnace Valley, miss,” Tommy said, flashing one of his famous smiles, wondering if she was a model out on a photo shoot.

  “Thank you,” Laura said, smiling as she glanced around the store.

  “Can I help you find something?”

  “Actually, I was hoping to get some directions. I’m looking for the Fletcher place.”

  “Doc Fletcher?” asked Tommy, a hint of surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, that’s right. Dr. Henry Fletcher.”

  “Really? I don’t think Doc’s ever had a visitor before. Heck, he hardly even comes to town.”

  Carla, who’d seen Laura come in, walked over and held out an ice-cold glass of lemonade. “Here darlin’, this will knock the dust out of your throat.”

  It was like Carla had read her mind. Laura took the drink, and before she realized it, she’d gulped half the glass. “Oh God, that was fantastic! Thanks so much,” Laura said, genuinely grateful.

  Carla smiled, a wistful look on her face as she admired Laura’s shorts and her slim figure.

  “Lord, I wish I could wear shorts like that.” Carla said, glancing at herself. “But let’s face it—that train left the station about thirty pounds ago.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Laura said politely.

  “Oh, stop.” Carla waved a hand through the air. “We both know you’re just being nice.”

  Laura, feeling suddenly self-conscious, looked down at her legs and smoothed the back of her shorts.

  “So, how do you know Doc?” Carla asked.

  “I don’t really… know him. It’s sort of a surprise.”

  “You don’t know him?”

  “Hey, come on,” said Tommy. “It’s not our business. No more questions.”

  “I’m just being friendly,” said Carla, discounting Tommy with a flick of her wrist. “Jeez-Louise.”

  “No one likes a busybody,” Tommy insisted.

  “I was just curious, that’s all.”

  “Right, busybody,” said Tommy, as if to rest his case.

  “Dr. Fletcher and I met a long time ago,” Laura said, putting an end to Tommy and Carla’s bickering. “I’m an old acquaintance, that’s all.”

  “Well, Tommy’s not interested… But I am,” said Carla, getting a dig in.

  “Is the Fletcher place hard to find?” Laura asked.

  “No, not really. Just a few more miles down the road.” Carla turned to Tommy. “Hon, get me some paper, I’m going to draw her a map.”

  A few minutes later, Laura came out of Nguyen’s, map in hand, crossed the porch, and as she stepped down to her car, noticed the Grogan twins loitering in a wedge of shade at the end of the building.

  A thought crossed her mind, then appeared on her face in the form of a sly smile.

  She opened the Honda’s door, reached across the windshield, fiddled with something, then slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled forward until she was parallel with the twins.

  She stuck her hand out and waved a dollar bill at the boys. “Hey… Here. It’s for the car wash.”

  The twins looked at each other, exchanged confused lo
oks, then figured what the heck—and, laughing at their good luck, hustled over to get their reward.

  Just as they stepped up to her window, Laura hauled back on the windshield washer lever—and a stream of water shot out sideways, blasting one of the boys right between the eyes. He screamed out in shock, grabbed his face, and dropped to the ground.

  “Free bath. No charge.” Laura laughed. Then she stuck her tongue out at the little monsters and sped off, leaving them choking in a cloud of dust.

  * * *

  Fletcher’s body lay right where Frankie and Vinny had left it. The air was still and breathless. A cloud of blowflies covered Fletcher’s face. Their angry buzzing filling the air.

  Across the way, the drip-drip-drip sound of water echoed from the base of the reservoir as the last of its contents pooled on the ground, then quickly disappeared beneath the sand.

  Something moved. The flies started, all of them moving in unison like some unholy school of fish, causing them to swarm up and away from Fletcher’s body.

  A moment later, Doc’s body contracted, jerking off the ground. Then his legs began to dance on the sand like they were attached to strings manipulated by some invisible puppeteer. A creeper rose up between his legs and snaked across his chest. It continued until it reached his head, weaving back and forth through the air. A second after that, it struck down, plunging into his neck, the force causing Fletcher’s head to cant to the side and release a knot of boiling maggots that spilled out of his mouth and rolled onto the sand.

  Another creeper appeared. It raced toward Fletcher’s body, raising a trail of dust as it rippled across the desert floor like an eel sliding through water.

  Chapter 28

  Laura gripped the wheel as one of the Honda’s tires banged into, then shot out of yet another pothole. The road seemed to be one giant divot. The good news was, all the bumping and banging had jolted the air conditioner back to life.

  She grabbed Carla’s map, rotated it in her hand, tried to make sense of it, then dropped it in her lap and shook her head. “I think I’ve driven off the map,” she said to herself in a frustrated voice.