New Title 15

by Douglas, P. A.

  “Let’s do something about this smell,” he said to himself.

  The bathroom told the same sad story. Facial hair from months of shaving lined the sink. What hair hadn’t made its way to the sink lay scattered across the tile at his feet. Damp, musty towels lay in a pile next to the toilet. A gunk of dirt and grime left a yellow-rimmed stain in the bathtub. The shower certainly had needed replacing long ago.

  He glared long and hard at his reflection in the mirror. His short brown hair was disheveled. He had a few days of stubble on his chin and his mouth felt slimy. The last time he had brushed his teeth was when he had last shaved.

  Overlooking all of that, Kyle opened the medicine cabinet. Putting on a fresh coat of deodorant, he sprayed his shirt down with Axe Body spray.

  After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, Kyle really started to consider his situation. What was he going to do? How the hell had all of this happened? Sitting in his favorite chair, he stared at his television set. He remembered the Springer show he was watching before all of this. It had only been a few hours since he had gone to get a pack of smokes. Now, almost midnight, those six or seven hours felt more like days.

  As hard as he tried to shake the images of mutilation and decomposition, he couldn’t. He thought of old Mr. Hardy.

  Realizing that he had been wasting time, Kyle knew that he needed to get back downstairs to the others. Sarah was probably worried about him. Remembering his need for a better weapon, he found his way back into the bedroom. Beside his nightstand was a brand new heavy-duty crowbar. It was made of heavy steel. Living in this neighborhood, one could never be too cautious. Although no one had ever broken into his place while he was asleep, he felt the need to be prepared.

  Satisfied, Kyle quietly left his apartment. Before closing the door and making his way down stairs, he scanned the pigsty that was his living room. The place was pathetic, reflecting his lack of self-respect.

  Disgusted with himself, Kyle crept down the steps outside. The night sky and the streets it engulfed were still. The car out front that had been playing music had finally died. The street was silent. Even that ungodly hum had seemed to fade away finally.

  After he gave two soft taps on Ben’s apartment door, Kyle heard the deadbolt release. The door opened to Sarah’s weary face.

  “What took you so long?” She said, ushering him in.

  “Sorry, I just needed to…”

  “Well, well…” Ben said, cutting him off. “Look who actually cleans up well.”

  Ben stepped into the living room from the bathroom. He no longer wore his Best Buy blue shirt or work pants. Instead, he sported a pair of ridiculous looking plaid pants. They reminded Kyle of something Mr. Hardy would have worn. Along with the silly pants, Ben’s Star Trek shirt was tucked in, revealing an over the top belt buckle featuring the Incredible Hulk’s face.

  “Man, how old are you, Ben?”

  “What?”

  “The Hulk, really?” Kyle snickered. “What, are you, like ten or something, dude?”

  “I’ll have you know,” Ben said, adjusting his glasses. “The Hulk first appeared in The Incredible Hulk number one! May, nineteen sixty-two, and was written by writer-editor Stan Lee, and penciled and co-plotter, Jack Kirby. It’s a classic, thank you very much!”

  “I don’t care what it is,” Kyle said. “You look like a freaking rapist, Ben. Got any puppies or candy to go with those pants?”

  “I resent that statement,” Ben said, scratching his mustache.

  “Leave him alone,” Sarah said. “I happen to think he looks adorable.”

  “You hear that, Ben? You look adorable!”

  Kyle began to laugh. Playfully, Sarah shoved him trying to get him to ease up. He had clearly hurt the dorky man’s feelings.

  “I’m sorry, dude. You know I was just messing with you.”

  “Yeah, whatever, man.”

  Ben walked back to his desk and sat in front of the laptop. He adjusted his glasses for a minute, and then began typing away.

  Giving the geek a moment to cool down, Kyle walked up to Z, who was still seated on the floor next to Becca. She hadn’t changed. Still lying there with her eyes closed, her complexion had taken a turn for the worse.

  “How’s she doing, man?” He whispered.

  “She’s doin’ alright, yo.” Z’s voice trailed off with lack of assurance. “The fever’s getting higher, dawg. What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Z, I really don’t.” Kyle patted Z on the back to comfort him. “If anything, man, we wait a little longer, and then go for help.”

  “Yeah,” Z said, never taking his eyes away from Becca.

  After standing silently with Z for a minute or two, Kyle pulled Sarah into the kitchen to talk in private. The lighting was brighter in there, than in the rest of the house. Looking around for a second, he could have sworn he was standing in his kitchen. It was the same, except the stove was on the opposite side. Aside from that one detail, he knew this wasn’t his kitchen. His kitchen was a wreck. There would have been dishes piled everywhere with food caked to most of them, and glasses of half-drunk milk with moldy top layers of green.

  “So how is she doing… really?”

  Sarah glanced back into the living room at Becca.

  “Not good at all. Ben took her temperature right after you left. It was nearly a hundred and thirty.”

  “Wow…”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “What did Z say?”

  “Nothing,” Sarah said. “Ben hasn’t told him. Doesn’t want to scare him.”

  “Dang, that’s pretty rough. Have we put much thought into what we are going to do about her? We can’t risk bringing her with us. What if she turns or gets one of us sick, too?” Kyle said, keeping his voice low. “Seriously, we need to think about that, before we all just pile into the car together.”

  Sarah said nothing, crossing her arms and staring at the tile floor.

  “Well…” Kyle continued. “What about the internet? Has Ben found anything on there that is going to help us out, yet? Has he at least figured out what the hell is going on? I noticed he seemed to be surfing on it just fine.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “The internet is still up, thank God. He has found a few things. But what he has told me sounds pretty bleak. Ben seems to think that it might be in our best interest just to sit tight for a few days. He seems to think someone is going to be sending in cleanup crews through here.”

  “Cleanup crews?” Kyle sneered. “What the hell is the internet saying happened here?”

  “You’re going to have to talk to Ben about that. Some of what he said kind of went over my head.”

  Becca cried out in pain. Instantly, her cries turned to muted gurgling pleas. Her esophagus was blistering from the inside. Blood pooled from her lips and began to trail down her cheeks from her eyes, right before she went into convulsions.

  “Step away from here!” Ben shouted.

  Z stumbled backward to the floor. Tears ran down his face.

  “No, baby… no!”

  The black leather upholstery from Ben’s couch began to fuse with Becca’s exposed skin.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It had been a few hours since the incident with Becca. Not only were emotions spent, everyone was physically exhausted from the day. What had happened to her could happen to any of them. All it would take was something as simple as a single touch to sentence someone to death. A touch that would bring painfully horrendous mutations, changing the unfortunate victim into one of them. Becca’s death had jarred everyone.

  Kyle blamed himself. What else was he could he have done? There had been no other choice. Even with Ben and Sarah there to reassure him of that, he couldn’t let it go. How could he? He had never killed another man in his life. Sure, he had defended himself at the Deli in the store, but that was different.

  After heading upstairs to his apartment, Kyle sat in his Lazy Boy, brooding over Z’s death. All of the lights were off an
d the blue numbers on a digital clock holding his blank stare. By his side, Sarah slept on the floor. Ben sat with his back against the wall near the front door. The laptop perched on his knees illuminated his face with an eerie glow.

  The stench downstairs in Ben’s place had been too much to handle. Kyle’s living room definitely had an odor to it as well, but it wasn’t nearly as bad.

  Becca had awoken in crazed rage. Had it been the pain or something in the fever that drew her to insanity? There was no real way to tell. One thing was sure, there was no way she could have still been alive. She thrashed and kicked on the couch trying to get at Z and the others. She snarled in frustration, unable to reach them, being glued to the couch by liquefied tissue.

  After a minute of watching her flailing, Z went ballistic. Everyone watched as the skin on her face began to peel back like dissolved putty. The stink of burnt flesh and singed hair filled the air. Bone started to show through on her arms and legs. Her lips blistered and her eyes sank back into her skull, as her body became one with the couch. In moments, she was nothing more than a pile of meat and jagged limbs.

  Above the thrashing and moans, Z cried out her name.

  It was horrible, but the worst had yet to come.

  Her eyes exploded from their sockets. Bloody mucus and retinal sludge splashed across the carpet.

  Ben put every ounce of his strength into restraining Z against the wall. Sarah on the other hand, froze, standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Her jaw had dropped to her chest and her eyes were wide. Pushing his way past Sarah, Kyle darted in from the kitchen. Reaching for his crowbar that was sitting on the carpet next to the makeshift ashtray, he did what had to be done.

  He only saw a monster when he looked down on Becca's grotesquely mutilated remains. He looked her in the eyes, but no one looked back. She couldn’t. The black cavernous holes that had been her eyes bled out red chunks of what he assumed to be her sinus cavity.

  And that was when it happened.

  She… it spoke!

  “Join us!” The rasping words spilled from Becca’s melting throat in gurgles.

  With the crowbar raised, Kyle glanced back at Ben, his expression flushed with fear. Looking back, Ben swallowed hard, just as shocked.

  “Join us!” She said. “It’s too late for you here. They are coming. I share their thoughts with them, even now!” Blood spewed from her splintering lips and blisters swelled on her neck. “I’ve shared with them where we are… It’s too late… Join us in our suffering!”

  “Who the hell are you?” Kyle shouted.

  “The heroes of old!” It spat.

  It kept trying to speak, but the words became unclear. Muffled and distorted, the tissues in her throat began to merge as one. Her words turned to moans.

  “No... Becca!” Z shouted, still struggling against Ben’s weight.

  Kyle struck Becca right between the eyes. The sharp metal tip slid through her skin like butter. Her face caved in, turning it into a mess of mush. Her skull had softened. The sound made Kyle wretch. Her brain sprayed across the armrest of the couch. He pulled the crowbar free of the squish of gore and slop.

  Knowing what the dead woman’s blood and bile could do, Kyle stepped away from her mangled form and went into the kitchen. Turning the hot water on at the sink, he gave the crowbar a quick washing.

  And that… that was when the worst happened.

  “You son of a…” Z wrestled free from Ben. “You killed Becca!”

  “Look out!”

  Kyle hadn’t had time to do anything else. It wasn’t his fault. It came down to him or Z. What could he do? He didn’t mean for it to happen, really.

  Z ran forward, crushing the glass cup that sat in the middle of the floor, scattering cigarette ashes everywhere. He crashed into the kitchen, pushing Sarah to the floor, and climbing over her to get to Kyle.

  “You motherfu—”

  Z collided with Kyle at the sink. Not at all prepared for what was to come next, Kyle fell backwards into the refrigerator, rattling the collection of pots on top.

  “Get off of him!” Sarah shouted.

  “Aahh…” Kyle struggled with Z to the cold tile.

  He used the crowbar to push Z away, but the thug wouldn’t let up. He kept coming down at him with one blow after another. Kyle took three knocks to the side of his head. Sarah rushed over and tried to pull him off, but Z just pushed her back.

  “Get off of me, you stupid bitch. He killed Becca!” He grimaced; gold shining in his teeth.

  She slipped, falling to the floor again.

  Z turned to face Kyle, pulling his gun free from his belt. Despite the fact that Kyle knew the gun wasn’t loaded, adrenalin and fear kicked in, and retaliated with force. The crowbar struck Z in the sternum, as he drove it forward. Kyle heard something crack inside. Pushing with all his weight, Kyle kicked the wannabe thug away. Shocked, Kyle watched the crowbar slip from his fingers, as Z fell limp to the kitchen floor. The weapon had embedded in the man’s chest. Blood gushed out from the wound. Z just lay their dying.

  “You stupid son of a—” Z started to say.

  His words turned to violent coughing. Blood pooled in his mouth. In an instant, he stopped moving, but his eyes remained open. His head shifted slightly to the left, eyes fixed on nothing.

  Z was dead.

  However, none of that mattered now. You can’t fix the past. What was done was done, and Kyle had only himself to blame.

  Kyle, Ben, and Sarah just stared wide-eyed at one another. No one said a word about Becca’s sudden volley of harsh and bizarre words. Everything was somehow unspoken, yet understood. Shortly after that, they had gathered up a few things in Ben’s place, and then went upstairs, and they had not spoken since. The only thing anyone said after arriving upstairs to Kyle’s living room was that they just sit tight. Too emotional and overwhelmed by the nights events, no one argued about it,.

  Despair filled the air.

  “You should try getting some sleep, Kyle.”

  “I can’t… Not after all that’s happened.” Kyle looked down at Sarah under a small blanket on the floor. “I thought you were already out. Can’t sleep either?”

  “No,” she said. “My mind won’t shut off. I wish it would, though. The things I keep seeing in my head are just too horrible. It’s making me feel sick to my stomach.”

  “Yeah,” Kyle sighed.

  He knew all too well what she meant. He hadn’t been able to shake those awful images either. Every time he even thought of closing his eyes, images of grotesque figures loomed over him like meaty blobs suffering in torment.

  “You doing okay, otherwise?” He asked.

  “I guess so,” she replied. “I can’t help, but worry about Ted. He’s at home all alone.”

  Kyle squinted against the darkness trying to read her expressions better. “Oh… is that your boyfriend or something?”

  “No.” She laughed. “My dog. He’s a Wire Hair Terrier. I called him Ted, because he looks just like a little brown Teddy bear. He’s my best friend. I’ve had him since he was a puppy.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “He’s got to be getting close to five years old.”

  “Man, then you must be pretty worried about him. I can see why he would be your best friend. Five years is a long time.” Kyle stretched his legs, kicking up the leg rest on the Lazy Boy.

  “I know,” she whimpered. “He hasn’t eaten yet. I normally feed him when I get home at around eight. He must be starving to death.”

  Kyle did his best to sound sympathetic. Honestly, he was just glad to find out it was a dumb dog and not a boyfriend.

  “I’m sorry. Don’t worry about him. Dogs are pretty smart. He’ll be just fine.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, I do. Really.” Kyle kicked back, making the chair fully recline.

  The sound of steadily working fingers tapping away on computer keys filled the silence behind them. Whatever Ben was doing on the comput
er had his full attention. Kyle hoped the nerd was coming across something useful. Maybe word had finally gotten out, explaining what the hell had happened. Not wanting to break the geek’s concentration just yet, Kyle went back to chatting with Sarah. As much as he was eager to find out what was really going on, he didn’t mind putting it off for a little longer.

  He smiled at Sarah.

  “So other than working at that run down grocery store for the last two years and getting off at eight every night to go home and feed Teddy, what makes Sarah tick. What do you like to do?”

  “Whoever said I have worked there for two years?” She sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself.

  “Well… let’s just say, I am a man of detail.” Kyle crossed his arms.

  “More like a man of obsession,” Ben butted in, and then went back to typing.

  “Hey, we weren’t asking your opinion, all right, Hulky-poo?” Kyle said.

  “You mean to tell me that you have been scoping me out at work for the last two years, and haven’t once approached me or asked me for my number?”

  “Seriously,” he said, sidestepping the conversation’s sudden change in direction. “What else do you get into?”

  It worked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t really ever do much. Watch a lot of TV, I guess. But who doesn’t do that, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m the same way. All about those reality talk shows.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said with excitement. “One of my favorite things to watch is the Maury Povich Show!”

  “Isn’t that the one where they are always doing the paternity test… and the guys are always like ‘that ain’t my kid’?”

  Sarah burst out laughing. Kyle’s rendition had been spot on, down to the arm movements, and all.

  “Sure, that one’s good. But you can never go wrong with Jerry!” Kyle cocked his head back with confidence.

  “Haa… I love the Jerry Springer show!” Sarah smiled. “You see that episode were that dude married a horse?”