by Patrick Kill
"Hold on," he said, "I don't have any clothes on."
"So help me God," I said, "If you're on my cousin again, I'll--"
"Relax! I'm just putting the fish on ice. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Wait," I said.
Suddenly my mind shifted into a rare logical mode. The image of that fish gasping out of water flashed through my mind. And then Smiley putting the fish on ice. Molly couldn't breathe. She was cold. Oh my God, I thought, I think I know what's--
The sweeper bag popped.
Dust bunnies, clogs of dirt and shattered pieces of glass exploded in Molly's crotch.
"Oh fuck!" I said.
"What's going on?" Smiley asked.
There was only one way I could find out if my theory was right. "Do me a favor," I said, "Do something to the fish. Anything!" I hovered over Molly, waiting for something to happen.
"OK, here I go," Smiley announced.
Molly's right eye imploded. Her cornea oozed like Jello from her eye socket and ran down her cheek.
"Not that, you idiot!" I yelled into the phone. "You didn't have to poke its eyes out!"
A few seconds of silence followed, then Smiley said, "How the fuck did you know that I just poked its eye out? What are you: some kind of psychic or something?" The reception was cutting out.
"I wish!" I said, "You're starting to cut out,"
"I couldn't hear you," he replied, "Did you say 'the fish, cut it in half?'"
"NO!"
The line went dead.
I hit redial.
I looked at the bed.
But it was too late.
Molly's abdomen split. Her guts plopped out onto the bed beside her. Her coiled intestines unfurled, plummeting onto the floor. Blood squirted on the walls and ceiling.
I doubled over and vomited.
* * *
"Holy shit, what happened to you?" Smiley inquired.
I shuffled half-naked into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Blood dripped off my face and arms. I brushed off bits of viscera in my hair.
"Damn, man, she didn't say anything to me about being on her period," Smiley said, "I've never seen a bigger pair of red wings in my life. You dawg!"
"We got to get the fuck out of here now!"
"We can't. The gates outside the compound are locked at night. We'll never get the car out."
I looked down at the bloody remains of the fish in the ice bucket. "Oh God!"
"What's the matter?"
"Molly's dead," I said. "You cut her in two!"
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know exactly. All I know is that the fish we caught was connected to her somehow. Probably her old self was transformed into that fish."
Smiley perked up. "You know, that does make sense. That was a fat fucking fish, just like she was before she fell into the lake!"
"That explains the eyes too," I added. "They look human, like the damn things are intellectual."
"Oh shit, we really fucked things up, didn't we?"
"What's this 'we' shit? You were the one who fished her fat ass out of that lake. You were the one who pissed in the lake, tainting the water. You were the one who plucked her eyeball out, then cut her in two!"
"Oh, I see," Smiley said, "So when the shit hits the fan, we're no longer a team, is that it?"
"Shut the fuck up!" I said.
"We can leave the first thing in the morning."
"We can't oversleep though. We need to sneak out of here before they go into room 12 and find Molly cut in half, with one eyeball missing and a Dirt Demon shoved up her cunt."
* * *
So we overslept.
The tour group knocked on our door at 8 A.M.
"We'll be right out," Smiley yelled through the door.
"Fuck the suitcases, it's too late!" I said. "They'll know something's up if we take them out there!"
"Fine," Smiley said, "but I'm keeping the fish!"
"Why? It's all cut up and dead?"
"I can repair it," Smiley countered, "And I'll never get the chance to mount another fish like that."
"Me either," I stated.
"So where the hell you going to hide it? The fish already stinks to high heaven. If Heather finds out you took that fish and killed it, we'll get arrested. Or maybe worse!"
"I don't know, I don't have any pockets."
"I don't either."
Smiley looked around the room, then focused on Ramona. A smile crept on his face.
"She doesn't have any pockets either!" I stated.
"No, but she has something else!"
I didn't like the sound of that.
A minute later, Ramona was spread eagle on the bed with Smiley trying to stuff a dead fish into her muff. There was blood smeared everywhere as Smiley shoved the creature in as Ramona just drooled and smiled.
"They'll never look in here," Smiley boasted. "And if they smell something, they'll just figure it's a feminine hygiene-thing!"
I stated the obvious. "You're a sick bastard!"
Another knock sounded, but this time the door swung open.
Smiley froze, his hand still crammed halfway up Ramona's twat.
"OH MY GOD!" Heather yelled, covering her mouth in the doorway.
Smiley yanked his hand out and blood sprayed across the bed sheets. "It's not what you think!" he blurted out.
I came to the rescue. "She's having her period," I tried to explain, "and Smiley's just helping out with the tampon duties, that's all!"
I couldn't tell if Heather had bought it or not. She slowly closed the door and said nothing more.
* * *
We gathered again on the pier.
The gap-toothed redhead was sent back into the compound to retrieve Molly, so we only had a few precious minutes to plan our escape.
Smiley, Ramona and I stayed near the back, closest to land. I peered across the field to where the van was parked. It was an easy sprint from that distance, but, with having to push Ramona in her wheelchair, it was nearly impossible to make it before we were caught.
The old lady who Smiley had fucked the night before was the first in line to be dipped into the lake. She winked at Smiley with her good eye and flicked her tongue. Smiley waved, then winked back at her.
I looked away, disgusted just by looking at the old crone. I peered into the lake, looking for the Budweiser cans we had chucked in.
A fish swam to the surface, poked its head out.
I gasped at the ghastly sight of the creature. Its fleshy scales were missing. In place of its hide, there appeared bony cartilage with streamers of its internal organs floating behind its head. Its eyes were white orbs that shifted within it blood-rimmed sockets.
The devilish thing hissed at me, then dove back into the waters in which it came.
"We have to make our move right now!" I whispered to Smiley.
We started inching off the pier as the old lady plunged headfirst into the lake.
The lake started to boil instantly.
As we backpedaled away from the scene, the old lady jumped out of the water like a dolphin. She screamed in midair, then plopped back into the lake.
Chaos ensued.
The women on the pier bawled and screamed, as the boiling water bubbled into a wave, knocking each of them into the frothy lake.
The redhead came yelling frantically from out of the complex.
The toothless old hag was the first of the women to float to the surface. And she was most definitely a changed person. Her skin appeared rotted and half-melted from her body. Patches of her hair was missing. Bloody pock marks the size of silver dollars dotted every inch of her exposed flesh. On both sides of her neck there appeared gills that pulsed irregularly.
The old fish-hag lunged from the lake and crawled salamander-like up the shore towards us. One glance back and I knew it was coming right for us. I also saw other monstrosities emerging from the lake, crawling, slithering, hopping onto the shore. At least a dozen bl
ack, beady eyes were now focused on our retreat.
"Run!" I yelled.
Smiley managed to wheel Ramona all the way up to the van before the fish-witch caught up. It leaped atop the van's hood, meeting face to face with Smiley. He whimpered as water and seaweed fell from its barren eye socket.
I climbed into the driver's seat and fired the ignition.
Smiley retreated to the back of the van to load Ramona, but the door was locked.
"FUCK!!!" he yelled.
The thing scrambled up to the hood of the van.
I popped the glovebox and pulled out the bungee cords. I quickly tossed them out my window to where Smiley was standing.
He caught the cords with one hand, and slammed Ramona's wheelchair against the back of the van with his other hand. He hooked all three of the cords together and wrapped them once around Ramon's body, fusing her to the chair. Next, he latched the hooks onto the van's back door handles.
The fish-bitch, who was crouched on the roof of the van, finally pounced, landing on Smiley's shoulders. It raked its nails across his face as he twisted his body to eject the creature.
The mutant fell off and Smiley jabbed his thumb into the good eyeball, rupturing it, too. The thing squealed in agony, now totally blind and probing the asphalt in search of Smiley's leg.
Smiley climbed into the van and I floored it.
Behind us, the party of freaks had made it to the roadway and were quickly losing ground on the van.
We exited that dreadful resort and its sacred lake and never looked back.
Well, at least, not at the resort.
I looked back several times, making sure Ramona was still attached to the back of the van.
In the rearview mirror, I watched smoke pouring from her wheelchair wheels as we sped down the highway at ninety miles an hour, only stopping when her wheels blew off.
When we finally pulled over and checked on her, Ramona was just sitting there with the biggest smile on her face.
And, in that very instance, we knew everything would be fine.
* * *
The next time the three of us were together was in a hospital. Aunt Kay had had a nervous breakdown and disappeared one afternoon, never to be seen again; Uncle Larry was in jail. This all meant that Smiley and I were Ramona's legal guardians. Which naturally meant that we were there for her during her pregnancy.
In the delivery room, Smiley was coaching Ramona (like it did any good). I was there observing.
The minute the nurse put Ramona's feet in the stirrups, a stench wafted through the room.
The doctor doubled over and puked.
After he was done puking, he turned to me and said, "I'm going to have to do a C-section."
"Why?" I asked him, "Are there complications?"
"No," he replied, "I just can't stand the smell down there!"
And then the smell really hit me.
The doctor ran from the room, as did the nurses.
I looked at Smiley and pumped my fist at him, furiously.
"What?" he said, his shirt pulled up over his nose.
"You never took the fish out of her?"
Smiley's face turned white. "Oh my God," he blurted out. "I forgot all about it!"
Damn, I just knew it was going to be another one of those days.
Because anywhere Smiley went, trouble seemed to follow.
About The Author
Patrick Kill is the split literary personality of Delirium Books editor-in-chief Shane Ryan Staley. Just in case you wanted to kick his ass for writing this story.