Teddy concentrated on what looked like half a head peeking out from the top shelf. It wasn’t moving. It was a stocking cap. It’d been his imagination. That wasn’t a demon crouched on the ground near his stinky tennis shoes. It was probably just his football.
He glanced at his wheelchair, and wished he could Jedi it back over to his side. With his wheelchair all the way by the door, he couldn’t get out of bed if he wanted to, at least not without crawling around like a little baby. He would have to call out, wake his mom, and have her get it for him. While she was in here, she could also turn on the lights and make sure the closet was safe.
His mom would be pissed though. She’d told him to just let her get some sleep. That’s all she seemed to do since the murders began. Teddy pulled the comforter over his head and settled back into bed. A faint slithering sound came from below, a light tug at the end of the bed sheet. Teddy lowered the comforter to his neck and waited. The room was silent. He squeezed his eyes and told himself to stop being such a baby.
A loud whoosh near the window. Before Teddy could blink, the closet door creaked and something moved under his bed. The bed sheet grew tighter across his chest and broken leg. Then it started to slide right off of him.
Teddy yanked the comforter over his head and screamed. “Mom! Mom! Hurry!”
A door creaked open at the end of the hallway. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then gagged as he inhaled the rancid air. The putrid smell hadn’t come from him. Even if he ate three bowls of chili with broccoli on the side, he couldn’t dream of ripping a fart so foul.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. Not wanting to look like a sissy, Teddy pulled back the comforter and sat up. The sour stench made him want to puke. He looked to the window, still closed and shuttered. Right below the sill, however, was a dark brown pile. He supposed it was possible he’d crumpled up his corduroy jacket and tossed it on the floor, but he didn’t remember doing that.
The door opened. It pushed the wheelchair out of the way. Irritated and half asleep, his mother asked, “What’s that doing here?”
“Something moved it.” Teddy tried to keep the panic out of his voice. “Turn on the light.”
She stood in the dark doorway, her silhouette just visible. “Wow, smells like you shit yourself.”
Teddy couldn’t believe his ears. His mom had never cursed. “It wasn’t me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The smell. It wasn’t me. It’s from over by the window.”
“I can’t smell anything,” she said. “I said that it sounds like you scared yourself.”
Teddy wondered how he could have misheard her. “No, I just had to pee and my chair rolled away. Can you bring it over and turn on the light?”
“Teddy, you screamed.”
“I just need my chair. I gotta go real bad.”
“That’s what you get from watching all those horror movies. That’s why you’re scared of the dark.”
“I’m not scared of the dark.” He’d been planning to keep with the wheelchair story, but he knew she wasn’t buying it. “I heard something.”
“Do you need to start using your Mickey Mouse light again, Teddy Bear? What would your friends say if they saw that?”
“I don’t need it.”
“This is the fifth time this week you’ve woken me. I need my sleep, honey.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He looked about the dark room and couldn’t see or hear anything strange. It had only been his nerves. “Can you just bring my chair over? Please.”
“No problem.” She staggered away from the doorway and wheeled the chair over to his bed.
Another whoosh by the window. The room filled with the rotten stench of a septic tank. Teddy yelled, “Turn on the light!”
“What’s the matter with you, Teddy?” his mother said. “You’re going to give me a heart attack screaming like that.”
“By the window. You didn’t hear it? You can’t smell it?”
“There’s nothing here. You need to understand there’s nothing to be afraid of. Your dad was a pussy, too.”
Even though his dad had left them one night without so much as a word, his mom had never talked badly about him. And regardless of how scared he was, Teddy wasn’t about to let her start now. “No, he wasn’t.”
“Yes, he was. He didn’t like the dark. Said he used to see things.”
“That doesn’t make him a pussy.”
“Don’t you ever use that language in this house! And don’t ever say anything bad about your father. Your dad was a great man.”
“But you…”
“I said he was afraid of the dark. That doesn’t make him less of a man.”
“You called him a pussy.”
“You’re worrying me, honey. Maybe I should take you to the doctor.”
Something bumped the bottom of the bed. Teddy screamed, “Turn it on!”
Holding one hand to her forehead, his mom reached up and pulled the chain that switched the light onto its lowest setting. She kept her hand up to block the glare and said, “Happy?”
Teddy looked down. What he had hoped was his jacket was a grotesque jellylike mass quivering in the corner. The foot-high, shit-brown lump opened its one eye and stared at him. It oozed forward, leaving a corrosive trail that ate through the boards. Teddy pointed at the blob just as it opened its mouth and emitted that same whooshing sound. He was barely able to keep down his dinner as the noxious aroma passed over him.
His mom followed his finger and looked toward the corner. “What is it, Teddy?”
“There! Right there!”
She stepped toward the corner and looked directly at the disgusting creature, keeping her hand on her forehead the entire time. “What is it? A spider? I don’t see it.”
With his mom out of the way, Teddy had a clear view of the closet door. Four clawed fingers were wrapped around the white door, sliding it open. Above the hand, a misshapen head peeked out. The impish creature smiled at Teddy, its row upon row of tall, needle-thin teeth glistening in the light.
Teddy scrunched back against the headboard, and yanked the comforter to his throat. “Behind you! Watch out!”
She slowly stood, one hand holding her forehead, the other closing the top of her blue terrycloth nightgown. “You’re scaring me, Teddy.”
The spindly-limbed imp crept out of the closet. The crud creature oozed closer. Teddy couldn’t scream.
His mom took a step toward the bed. The monsters moved with her. Blood drooled out from the corner of her dark red lips and dripped off her chin. The moment a drop hit the floor, a midnight-black, oil-slicked snake shot out from beneath the bed. The four-foot-long serpent lapped at the scarlet puddle, its barbed tail thumping against the floor in celebration.
Teddy screamed for her to run.
She just looked at him. “Honestly, I don’t know who was worse. You or your father.”
The serpent wound between his mother’s legs. She didn’t seem to notice as it coiled around the bottom of her calf, leaving a thick black trail across the terrycloth. Without warning, it shot under the full-length gown. His mother began to moan in rhythm with the serpent’s barbed tail as it swished back and forth on the hardwood floor.
Before Teddy could pull the covers over his face, the imp rushed forward, his bony, clawlike fingers spread high above his head, ready to dig them into his mother’s back. He ripped the nightgown off Teddy’s mother, revealing a skeleton-thin creature, with thick, black quills covering its chest, arms, and legs. Now that it was exposed, the creature removed its hand from his mom’s forehead. The thin piece of flesh and scalped hair fell to the ground with a wet thud. The crud creature rushed over and sat on top of his mom’s face as the snake thing buried itself further between the imposter’s legs, its tail whipping around in a frenzied circle inches above the ground.
Continuing the façade, the monster used his mother’s voice as it lumbered toward him. “I told you everything was okay. Now go to
sleep, Teddy Bear. But first give Mommy a nice kiss.”
Last Embrace
It’s good to see your whole family made it. Amazing that they still love and support you despite the things you’ve done. I wonder if they know how much their presence here means.
They came to offer prayers. They came to offer you strength. But all they really do is make your despair darker, your suffering sweeter. To die in your loved one’s arms is one thing. To die helplessly in front of them, is quite another. I suppose it’s probably a blessing though, to finally see all this coming to an end.
Look at their faces. Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve reduced them to.
This has to be the worst moment of your mother’s life and you’re responsible. The lines of fear and revulsion etched into her face will never go away. Your father’s not doing much better. Look at the pitiful sight, his crushed macho façade crumbling. But their pain is nothing compared to what your baby sister is going through. She’s staring at me, too young to know what she’s about to see. She’ll never forget this day. And neither will I.
I’m not a mercy killer. I am simply the one lucky enough to watch them pull the switch. I can’t wait for tonight. I can’t wait to feel your sweat on my skin. You must realize how intoxicating it is, to have a dead man’s scent seeping through you.
You have some fight. I like how you pretended to struggle with the guards so your family couldn’t see you trembling like a little girl. How cute that you’re still trying to be a big boy. You were so tough with a gun in your hand. But that’s gone. So take my arm. Squeeze as hard as you like. You can’t hurt me.
No? Fine. I wasn’t much for holding hands. You don’t have a lot of time, so take one last look at your family. Remember their faces. Think about what you’ve put them through. What you’re about to put them through. They won’t smell you cooking from out there. They’re not supposed to, but this is an old building, and they’ll start to believe they can taste the fried bits of you.
The way you’re sitting on me says you’re going to be a fun one. The way you’re arching your back, trying not to touch my chest. The way your legs are trembling as you attempt to keep your ass off my lap. Good attempts, but pointless. I’m all you have now. It’s you and me.
I know what you’re thinking, listening to the tick of the clock. The governor could still call with that reprieve. That could happen, but it never does. Don’t misunderstand me. I am glad they tell you that. That last chance of survival toys with your emotions; it fills you with a panicky hope that won’t completely disappear until the first jolt hits.
And I’ve got a special surprise for you and your family. For some reason, the first surge will only be at one thousand volts. The meter will show it at two, so the guards will let it run for the full sixty seconds. Enough voltage to get you foaming at the mouth, bleeding from your eyes, shaking like an epileptic, but not enough to kill you.
When they stop to determine the problem, you’ll renew your faith, hope, and determination to live. They’ll think they found the problem right away. I’m old and falling apart. A few quick turns of a screw and you’ll be back on deck. And what they won’t realize is that I’ve completely drained the brine out of your sponge.
When they throw the switch again, I’ll be at three-quarter power. I’ll slowly bake your brain and cook your insides before I take you. When you die, the guards are going to discover I’m back at full capacity and can’t be shut down. They’ll yell at each other and complain that I have a mind of my own, but it won’t matter to you anymore. You won’t feel your flesh sizzle, but rest assured that I won’t stop until every inch of your skin crackles.
Mmmm. Now you’re sweating. Haven’t even turned on the fire and you’re already dripping. This is going to be fun.
When it Rains
Del followed his boss and two co-workers onto the covered balcony of the second floor and took the chair next to Taylor. It was the seat closest to the kitchen. If they wanted to get wet, that was fine with Del, but he was staying by the door. This wasn’t just a mild September shower, a little thunderstorm. On a night like this, there was no telling how much rain the town was going to get.
Lightning flashed, illuminated the entire property. “Holy crap,” Martin said with his heavy Swiss accent. He pointed toward the rushing river some twenty yards down the grassy slope. “You see that water? Look at that. Amazing, no?”
Del stretched his neck, looked at the overflowing river, but kept his comments to himself. The torrential rains had transformed the usually quiet creek, upsetting the balance of things. Martin clearly wanted someone to agree with him, tell him it was a beautiful sight, but Del figured he’d leave that to the other ass-kissers who’d say that grass was orange and pumpkins were green if their boss said it was so.
Martin must have noticed Del’s indifference because he was quick to ask, “Does this all the time happen? The crazy weather like this?”
Taylor took a swig of his fruity drink. He looked like a clown with his flashy jewelry and trendy clothes. Maybe he fit in Hollywood, but if he ever ordered that in one of the local bars, he’d be laughed out of town. Taylor wiped his mouth and asked Del, “Yeah, what the hell’s up with this place? It was nice as shit earlier today, all warm and sunny like L.A.”
Del was tempted to mention the gray clouds that had been on the horizon all afternoon, but thought better of it. Instead, he took a chug of his Bud Light and said, “The only difference was the lack of smog, huh? Remember, just last week you couldn’t stop raving about how great the clean air was?”
Taylor didn’t look away from the storm. “Yeah, too bad the freaking pollen count’s sky high. I’ve never sneezed so much in my life.”
“Seriously, Del,” Martin asked in his slightly mixed-up English, “the weather gets horrible all time, no? Yes?”
“Over in Ashford and sometimes in Heaven, they get downpours like this, but not so much down here. Every once in a while it’ll come down real hard like this, but it’s usually just quick showers.”
Billy, who’d been unusually quiet most of the night, chuckled and polished off the rest of his Jack and Coke. “Heaven. I can’t believe you guys got a town called Heaven.” He hawked a wad of phlegm into his empty plastic cup and tossed it onto the floor just a few inches from Taylor’s feet. “There’s a goddamn church on every corner and one in between them.”
“And what the hell’s up with not being able to get booze on Sundays?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah, I thought that whole wine-being-blood bullshit made alcohol okay,” Billy said, disgust dripping like the raindrops falling off the railing.
Another lightning bolt lit up the sky. Del inched his chair toward the kitchen just in case the next one found its way into the balcony. “People out here like to pray. Most of them got good reasons.”
Instead of letting it go, Billy continued, “The whole God thing’s bullshit if you ask me.”
Martin said, “Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to say such things. Who do you think makes the rain?”
Billy pushed out of his seat and headed toward Del, who scooted his chair out of his way as the muscle-bound bully stomped into the kitchen, mumbling under his breath.
Taylor took a sip of his drink. “What the fuck’s that guy’s problem?”
“Was he never an altar boy?” Martin asked, seemingly surprised when everyone burst into laughter.
Billy stumbled back onto the balcony, a fresh drink in his hand. “What the hell’s so funny?”
“It was nothing,” Taylor said. “Just chill.”
“This shit’s miserable. You know how dirty the Escalade’s gonna be tomorrow? We live on a goddamn dirt road.”
Another burst of lightning exploded above them. Taylor pointed to the driveway below. “You might want to move it, Billy. If the water keeps rising, you’re gonna need to get it detailed. Your rims are gonna be a mess.”
Billy pulled keys from his pocket and turned to Del. “Go throw it in the ga
rage for me.”
“I’m not going out there.”
“You afraid of a little rain?”
“No, I’m just not going out there.”
“Come on.” Billy took another drink. “Earn your keep, man. You don’t pay rent.”
“Yeah, and neither do you. Plus, I’m only here during the week.”
“What if I turn on the outside lights for you? Maybe Taylor can hold your hand.”
Del wanted to tell Billy where he could go; instead, he shook his head and sat back, stared out into the darkness.
Billy stuffed the keys back into his pocket. “Fine. No big deal,” he told the group, although his tone said it was. “I can afford to get it washed.”
The storm picked up. The rain came slapping against the side of the house. Martin got out of his chair and asked everyone to scoot over. For someone who claimed to be an outdoorsman, he sure didn’t like to get wet.
“It ain’t gonna melt you none,” Taylor said before quickly changing the subject. “So guys,” he said, “are we gonna head out or what? I need to get laid.”
“You want to go out now?” Del asked.
Taylor said, “Hell yeah. Tonight’s college night down at Frank’s. The chicks can’t hold their booze.”
“There’s nothing going down anywhere,” Del said. “Not in this weather.”
“Stop being such a pussy,” Billy said.
“Go ahead and go out there. I ain’t going,” Del said.
Billy finished his drink and dropped his empty cup next to his first one. “The storm will be over in ten minutes.”
“I bet my house it won’t.”
“Shit, it ain’t a house, Del, if you can drive it over here and drop it off in my driveway.”
Taylor snickered then quickly told Billy, “That’s not funny, dude.”
“You laughed.”
“I was thinking about something else. Don’t pay attention to him, Del.”
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