Sunfall (Season 1): Episodes 1-6

by Meyer, Tim

  From the floor, Lilah remained silent.

  “I wonder how many pretty ladies you'll get without a prick to stick them with?” Malek mused, reaching for Matty's belt.

  Matty squirmed like his life depended on it. Bob cried out, a useless gesture that got the two of them nowhere. The jingle of Matty's pants being unzipped was like razorblades against his eardrums.

  “Now, let's make another cut. Deeper this time...” Malek said, gripping the knife tightly.

  “What the fuck?”

  Malek turned. Carp stood in the doorway, escorting the lovely woman Malek had shared time with earlier.

  “Brother!” Malek said. “You're just in time to witness the festivities! I say we make this a new tradition! I'm having so much fun!”

  “What are you doing to that kid?” Carp asked, letting go of Brenda's arm.

  “Just having fun. You know? Like we used to. Before you turned into a prune.”

  “Let him go,” Carp said.

  Malek didn't move. “You're giving me orders?”

  “You've taken this too far, Mark. Way too fucking far this time.”

  “M-Matthew?” Brenda said, color draining from her face. “Matty is that you?” She gazed at the barely recognizable man to her son's right. “Bob? Oh my God. Bob, holy shit, what did they do to you?”

  Laying eyes upon his wife, Bob could only cry. No words came forth, no matter how hard his lips tried. His tears said everything.

  “Well, well,” Malek said, his smile stretching further than it ever had. “Boys, it looks like we hit the jackpot.”

  Brenda tried to rush forward, but Carp grabbed her.

  “Gag her,” Malek commanded. “Throw her back in her cage.” Turning back to Matty, Malek said, “Now I have your Mommy. Want to fuck with me now?”

  Crying, Matty shook his head.

  “Tell me what I need to know. And right fucking now.”

  Matty told him everything.

  “EXODUS: PART I”

  EPISODE 6

  3 MONTHS AGO

  The evening before the sun reverted the world, the Carpenters were sitting down for a nice dinner, an occasion so rare that most of them couldn't pinpoint the last time it happened. The dining room was bigger than some houses and harbored many family photos, all of them ornately framed and hung on floral-wallpapered walls, standing over twenty feet tall. A server circled the table and filled the five empty glasses with water, then placed two more glasses down and poured Merlot for the parents.

  “So, children,” Mrs. Carpenter said with that happy housewife charm, “how was your day?”

  “It was complete shit,” the oldest said. “Utter horseshit.”

  Mrs. Carpenter frowned and squinted as she scanned his poor clothing choices and the accessories stapled to his face. She had never cared for piercings on men, especially the kind that dangled. Those human ornaments sickened her. “I thought we discussed this, Mark. You need to stay positive.”

  He sneered.

  “Yes, brother,” the man sitting across from Mark agreed. “Weren't two trips to the nut house enough?”

  “Carp!” Mrs. Carpenter scolded. Even she called her son by the nickname his friends had given him. “That's not nice. What have we told you about supporting your brother?”

  Carp shook his head. “I'm sorry, Ma.”

  “I believe in you, big brother,” Lilah said. She placed her palm on his hand and squeezed gently. “I know you'll get through this.”

  “That makes one of us,” Carp said, using his sleeve to erase the remains of an appetizer from his expanding grin.

  Mrs. Carpenter inhaled a mouthful of wine and set her glass down slowly as she shot her son that motherly glance he knew he deserved. “Do you need to excuse yourself, Carp? We're trying to have a nice family dinner for once.”

  “I think what your mother is trying to say, son,” Mr. Carpenter said, winking, “is keep your mouth shut if you don't have anything nice to say.”

  “Yes, Father.” Carp sighed. “It's just... I feel like I'm the only one who sees it.”

  “Sees what?”

  Carp eyed his brother, looking beyond his stony facade. As Mark glared, the nerves in his face twitched and his flesh reddened like sunburn.

  “That my brother is not well. Not in the least.”

  “Well that's not for you to judge, dear,” Mrs. Carpenter said. “We pay thousands of dollars a week for the best doctors and nurses on the East Coast to make those decisions.” She forced a smile Carp knew was fabricated. “Now,” she practically snarled, “can we talk about something else? Mark, dear, how was your first day of work at that delightful zoo in Carver's Grove?”

  “I shoveled shit all day. It was fantastic.”

  “Well, I'm sure it was good to be reacquainted with society again. Dr. Martins said a normal job would do you some good, that it would help you appreciate humanity again.”

  “No one appreciates humanity more than I, Mother,” Mark said. His grin bared the teeth responsible for many of Mrs. Carpenter's nightmares.

  She glanced around and then focused on a photo in the corner of the room. The picture had been taken almost ten years ago, when things were good and the children were normal and healthy. When they didn't fight every day, mouth off, or sink their teeth into people's throats, she thought. She felt ill and wine threatened to surge up in her throat.

  “What's the matter, Mother?” Mark asked. “Don't you want to look at your beautiful baby boy?” An evil grimace emerged on his face. “Am I ugly, Mother? Does the sight of me make you nauseous?”

  Mrs. Carpenter refused to answer and avoided looking in her oldest's direction. She focused on the love and warmth in the photo instead.

  “I think that's enough, Mark,” Mr. Carpenter said. “You don't want to upset your mother again, do you?” What he meant was, “You don't want your mother to try to kill herself again, do you?”

  If he had asked that, Mark would've replied with, yes, father, I think I do.

  “I'm sorry, Papa. The doctors are always asking about my feelings and I figured Mother might want to share hers. Sometimes it helps. Isn't that right, Mother? Do your doctors ask about feelings?”

  Mrs. Carpenter looked like she wanted to reply, but no words came and tears leaked from her tightly clenched eyes. Mr. Carpenter squeezed her hand and whispered words of encouragement into her ear. He told her to be strong and not to “let the little shit get to you.” But she couldn't help it. Mark reached deep inside her, grabbed her heart and ripped it out. He knew all the right chords to strike, which buttons to push. Always had. Especially since he had changed into whatever devil he had become.

  An absolute abomination.

  The ensuing awkwardness ended when the servers brought dinner. Serving dishes, each covered with stainless steel lids, were placed on the table before them. It was more food than they could ever eat.

  “Let's say grace,” Mr. Carpenter suggested, keeping the pep in his voice. He raised his wife's hand and asked his children to join them. Lilah and Carp joined hands in prayer.

  Mark, however, stated, “My doctors tell me to embrace my beliefs.”

  “I somehow doubt that, Mark. Now put your hands together and make your mother happy.”

  He reluctantly obeyed. “Yes, Father. Whatever you say. Sir.”

  They said grace and dug into their five-star meal in welcome silence. While everyone else ate their vanilla custard dessert, Mark swirled his around his plate with his fork and brooded about the meat being overcooked. He preferred it bloody rare, still mooing some might say.

  The steak knife he had secretly stolen from the table poked his leg from inside his pocket. Once playing with the dessert no longer amused him, he reached inside his pocket and cut his finger on the serrated edge, then placed his finger inside his mouth. He sucked hard, draining a substantial amount of juice from it before it clotted.

  “You okay, son?” his father asked.

  “Fine, just fine.”

/>   Carp looked to his father, knowing his brother wasn't fine, not at all. His father knew it too; Carp could tell from the way the old man stared at the little bastard. His mother hadn't spoken a single word since Mark had invaded her thoughts. Mark had been good at that, ever since Carp could remember. Teachers, parents, coaches—Mark always found a way to crawl into their brains and twist them up. His father always told him he could be great at something, have a long, fruitful career if he kicked his drug habit and ended his manic behavior. He told Mark to surround himself with the right people, take his prescribed medications and dissociate himself from the fantasy world he believed to be real.

  Fat chance, Carp thought, then turned to his precious little sister, Lilah. Oh Lilah. She had always felt closer to Mark than Carp. He feared she would head down the same dark path Mark had trekked. Maybe not as delusional, maybe not as clinically insane, but the seeds had been planted. It would take only one event, one little push over the brink, and Carp could see Lilah checking into the closest asylum and sharing a cell with her older brother.

  “May I excuse myself?” Mark asked.

  Every eye in the room was drawn to him. Even the servers, practically family themselves, stared him down.

  “Why?” Mr. Carpenter asked. “You have better things to do than spend some quality time with your family?”

  “I'm bored,” he said plainly. “Besides, I have a job to go to in the morning. Something you haven't had to do in a very long time, Father.”

  Mr. Carpenter nodded. “Well, son, if you weren't such a fuck up, maybe you could've worked for the family company before I sold it. Yeah, I bet you'd be making quite a bit of money for yourself right now, had you not started hanging around those hoodlums and shooting dope into your arm.” His smile faded. “You little fuckhead. You could've started your own family by now, instead of sitting here and ruining ours.”

  “Dad—,” Carp said, but his father raised his finger.

  “Look at us,” Mr. Carpenter continued. “You think we're happy? You think we're proud of our son? You think that when we go to dinner with the Robinsons we're fucking happy to talk about our family? You think we're proud?”

  Mark's gaze bored into his father's. He couldn't stop his lips from quivering, his muscles from shuddering. The steak knife in his pocket spoke to him, begging for a job.

  “You're an embarrassment. I almost wish you had killed yourself, you pathetic little fuck.”

  Mrs. Carpenter cried out, like someone had plunged a stake into her heart. Tears fell, like they had on many occasions. She buried her head in her hands.

  “Get out of here,” Mr. Carpenter snarled. “Go shoot up. Go talk to the voices in your head. Listen to them. Do whatever they tell you to do. I don't care anymore. I'm done. Done with you and the bullshit you've put us through.”

  Mark rose from his seat as the voices his father spoke of chatted up his ear.

  Kill them. Kill them both. In their sleep.

  Mark Carpenter had every intention of listening to his father's advice.

  -1-

  6 Hours Ago

  Malek leaned over the map and placed his finger on the target. “There,” he spoke softly to his two cronies. “There's where we're going to enter. Holland, you and Barlow are going to infiltrate around here. According to our sources, this should provide you entry. Undetected entry.”

  “Are you sure the kid knows what he's talking about?” Holland asked. “I mean, what if the little bastard is lying to us? What if it's a trap?”

  “He isn't. Little Matty Wright was in no position to spout lies.” Malek chuckled proudly. “You know how good I am at getting what I want.”

  Holland nodded. “So when we leaving?”

  “As soon as the sun kisses the day goodbye.”

  “I'll assemble the troops.”

  “Yes, see that you do.” Malek grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. “I don't want any fuck ups. Not like when Marcus was in charge of things.”

  Holland smiled. “You can count on me. Master.” With that, Holland darted towards the exit. Carp entered as he exited and bumped into his shoulder. “Watch where you're going, shithead,” Holland snarled and headed out the door.

  “That guy's an asshole,” Carp said to his brother.

  Malek shrugged. “But I trust him. More than I can say for you right now.”

  “Fuck you, Mark.”

  Malek slammed his fists against the table. “What have I told you about calling me that?”

  Carp couldn't stop the grin from running across his face. “Relax, brother. I think Rollins's juice is getting to your head.” His eyes settled on the map. “When are we leaving?”

  “We? You are not going anywhere.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I need you here watching our prisoners.”

  Carp folded his arms across his chest. “Why don't you just let them go? You have what you need.”

  “Let them go? Let them go?” Malek's lips twisted like he had ingested something foul. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Since when do we let meat walk out the front door?”

  Carp thought about it. “Never.”

  “Then why the fuck would we start now?”

  “I want you to think about things for a moment. Put this in perspective.”

  Malek waved him off. “You're starting to sound like our parents. And you know how that turned out for them.”

  “Yes. You slit their throats in their sleep. How could I forget waking up, discovering I'll no longer tan, and then finding my parents' butchered bodies on the bedroom floor?”

  “They were holding me back.”

  “They weren't the best parents, I'll agree, but no one deserves to die like that.”

  “You sympathetic fool. I always knew this day would come.”

  “What day?”

  “The day you officially turned your back on me. On our family.”

  Carp stifled a laugh. “It's not I who turned my back on our family. You've been sinking deeper and deeper into this fantasy of yours, Mark.”

  “STOP CALLING ME THAT!” His voice thundered. Eyes wide with rage, the flesh in his face seemed to bubble. “You will not speak to me like one of them!”

  “One of who?”

  “Doctors. Parents. An authority of any kind. You are no authority. You are my slave, and you will do what I say or suffer the consequences.”

  “Or you'll kill me in my sleep, too?”

  “I'm seriously considering it.”

  “You're no leader. You're just a strung-out psychopath.” He shook his head. “Mom and Dad should've left you in that institution.”

  “Benevolence was their weakness. I'll be sure not to make the same mistake with you.”

  “What's going on?” a small voice asked from the open doorway. “What are you two arguing about?”

  “Lilah,” Malek said, “glad you could join us.”

  “I was just telling our brother how courageous he is,” Carp said. “What a wonderful young man he's grown into.”

  Lilah ignored him and turned to Malek. “I'm coming with you.”

  “Absolutely not. I need at least one person I can trust here.”

  “You trusted me not so long ago,” Carp said.

  “That was before I discovered where your heart truly lies. Did you know our brother actually wants me to release the prisoners?” he asked Lilah. “Perfectly good meat! Gone! I think he's re-examining his human side.”

  “You can't harm them,” Lilah said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Matty and his family. They're not to be touched. Remember?”

  “What's happening with you two?”

  “You promised him,” Lilah recalled. “And I want to go with you to make sure you don't hurt Sam, Dana, and Becky.”

  Malek gazed into her eyes, suddenly realizing the nature of her visit. “Oh dear, darkness. You have a... thing for him, don't you? That's why you tried to stop me from neutering him.” His complexion changed as
bile seeped into his throat. “I think I might be sick.”

  Lilah denied nothing. Carp stepped in front of her.

  “Think about what you're doing,” Carp said. “You had your fun. The fantasy is over, Mark. Let's get back to reality. We can leave tonight. Your small army of hoodlums won't even miss you. It'll be just the three of us. We'll travel the country. We'll live off the land. We'll explore. Go places, see things. It'll be nice.”

  “Baker! Rollins!” Malek shouted.

  Almost immediately, two men appeared in the doorway. Rollins and his sweaty forehead entered first; the sound of his lungs wheezing filled the room. Baker, a tall, muscular man with the words “Semper Fi” tattooed on his forearm, followed closely behind. His curly locks flowed past his shoulders, down his back.

  “What's the deal, Master?” Baker asked.

  “Take these two out of my sight. Watch them while we're gone. Make sure they don't do anything stupid.”

  “Yes, Master.” Baker grabbed Carp's arm, glaring at him warily. “Let's go, shitbag. Don't make me do anything I might regret.”

  Rollins placed his hand on Lilah's back and ushered her through the door.

  Once they had left, Malek sat in his chair and relaxed. He closed his eyes and prayed to the darkness, begging it to save his siblings' souls.

  -2-

  NOW

  “This sucks,” Dana muttered under her breath. She sat in the corner of the greenhouse, her head leaning against the plastic enclosure. She watched Becky nibble her fingernails, undoubtedly thinking about Chris and fearing for his safety. “How long do we have to sit here, doing nothing?” she asked her sister. “Beck!”

  “What?” Becky asked, breaking free from her reverie. “What is it?”

  “How long do we have to stay here? I'm getting antsy.”

  Becky shook her head. “Until it's safe to come out, I guess.”

  “Does Soren really think we're going to be attacked?”

  Becky pulled her bottle of water from her backpack. Sipping slowly, she shrugged. “I don't know. That's what Chris said. He seems to think Lilah was one of the cannibals and that she left to get her friends. I guess he's being cautious.”