Necrovoid

by Ian Woodhead

  Jordan gazed at the empty plate on the carpet, next to that very ill looking kebab in mourning. Christ, he'd swap his right bollock for just one more piece of mum's vanilla slice. Speaking of which. He sat up. It had just gone four and the house was still as quiet as the grave. That really could not be right. Where the fuck was all the sound?

  No TV noise, no voices, no clattering in the kitchen, nothing but bird song. Bird song? He shouldn't even be able to hear that either. It took him a moment to realise that since emerging from the game, not one car had passed by the house.

  His sensenet lay by his feet. Jordan reached down and grabbed it. The urge to roll it back over his head and get back to his adventures proved almost impossible to ignore. It's only when he spotted a tiny light at the bottom of the first flexible ring flashing red when he remembered he wouldn't be able to do shit for at least another couple of hours.

  There wasn't much he could do apart from to leave his bedroom in search of something to eat. He'd better wake up his lazy parents too. Sleeping until this hour. Who did they think they were, a pair of teenagers? It was about time those two started to realise they weren't saplings anymore, that their nights of drinking the Horse and Crown dry were long past. Jordan had nothing against his mum and dad if their weekend sessions didn't impact on him. He sighed heavily, spun around and placed his feet on the carpet. While those two were busy nursing hangovers from hell, this poor bastard had to do without anything substantial in his stomach.

  Mum ought to be in the kitchen, cooking the Sunday dinner. It's what she always used to do when he was younger. Even right up to his late teens and early twenties, mum would have found the time to lay out a decent spread. Nowadays, she just put out a large plate of hot beef sandwiches, smothered in thick gravy.

  “Not today though.” There wouldn't even be any leftover takeaway downstairs either. They never brought anything back from Gail and Alan's place. From what he'd overheard, Gail's pet Alsation ended up with the leftovers.

  “That damn dog is better fed than me” he muttered. Jordan even contemplated diving into the old donner kebab. The two flies he spotted crawling through the congealing garlic mayo that stopped him from picking it up.

  “Stop acting like a spoilt brat,” he said, not believing he'd almost eaten the rest of that slimy-looking grease box. Not believing that he actually said his mum starved him! Jordan picked it off the floor and decided to give it to the birds, guessing it was bound to taste better than what the mad old bag would have thrown out this morning. Knowing her, it was likely to be the contents of her cutlery drawer or a probably something weirder like a load of buttons or something.

  Jordan reached the closed window and stood motionless, mouth agape while wondering if he really was out of the game. Just like last night, he saw no people anywhere down there. All that moved were a small flock of starlings, flying from roof to roof and the hazard warning lights belonging to a dark blue estate car, splayed across the middle of the road. Was it the same car driven by the dead guy from last night? No way, the chances of it being the same car was astronomical. Jordan shifted his gaze from the empty car to the pavement and to the shop doors, looking for any sign of life at all.

  That feeling that he'd been thrown onto the deck of some sinking cruise liner returned with vengeance. “Come on, please. Somebody show up. Our town isn't that bloody small. I want to see another person!” Jordan stayed where he was for another couple of minutes before reluctantly turning around and walking back over to the side of the bed. It's only when the covers brushed across his knee when he realised that he still held the kebab. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growled. Jordan ran back to the window, turned the latch and threw the mess outside.

  He waited in the vain hope that somebody might show up this time. The only change he saw were those lights dimming, that told him that the bloody car must have been there for a good few hours. Jordan remembered what Jenny said in the game about there being no police or fire-fighters. “Bugger off, stupid imagination,” he snapped.

  Zombies didn't exist. There was bound to be a logical explanation for all of this, there just had to be. He looked back at his sensenet lying at the foot of his bed and tried to imagine everybody in town lying in their beds, and plugged into Necrovoid. Well, why not? It was a hell of a lot more plausible than believing he really was in the middle of a real zombie apocalypse.

  Jordan raced out of the bedroom and ran into his parent's bedroom without even bothering to knock. The enraged shouting which he hoped to receive never materialised due to the bedroom being empty. He couldn't even tell if they'd slept in the bed. "Fuck. What do I do now?"

  He left the room, hurried down the hallway and stopped in front of his sister’s bedroom door. How knew the penalty for not knocking and waiting was certain death but this was an emergency. Jordan pulled down the handle and pushed the door open. Just like the other room this one was devoid of human presence. The panic had really settled in now.

  Not knowing what else to do, he spun around and headed back to his room. Jordan never reached the door. Just as he was passing the stairs, a scraping sound coming from the kitchen reached his ears.

  Somebody else was in the house after all! It had to be dad. Both his mum and Susan were unable to stay quiet for longer than a few seconds. Their constant prattling on about utter shite used to drive him up the wall. God, what he'd give right now to hear his mum's musical voice banging on about what happened in last night's Eastenders, or his sister bellowing out from the other side of the house that he was a useless prick.

  He stood at the top of the stairs and leaned forward, using the bannister for balance. Jordan couldn't see anybody down there, apart from the occasional moving shadow. Jordan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. What if it wasn't them? What if it... He stopped himself from saying the word zombie right at the last second. Christ almighty, what was wrong with him?

  That moving shadow passed in front of the fridge. It wasn't his dad down there, that much he did know. Jordan grinned to himself. Not unless the old man had covered himself in black fur and grown a tail.

  “How did that get in?” Jordan ran down the steps and into the kitchen. He shut the door and turned around. A big black cat, continued to clean its paws while sitting on the counter top, not a bit bothered that some strange human had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

  “Hello there, pussy cat.” He approached the animal. “I hope you don't intend to bite me.” Jordan gently patted it on the head and was rewarded with purring. “You’re a friendly little bugger.” He scooped it off the counter. “Still, you don't live here and if mum knew you were in her house, she'd hit the roof. Come on, let's get you outside.” Jordan walked over to the side door, while tickling under its chin. It wasn't until he reached the dining table when he felt something lumpy under his shoe. He looked down and discovered there was glass everywhere. It had come from the bottom window in the door. The damn stuff was across the tiles. Jordan crouched and let go of the cat.

  It leapt onto the floor and ran out of the hole in the door. It took Jordan a couple more seconds to work out what had happened. The half brick resting against the cooker gave him his biggest clue. Some little shit must have lobbed it against the glass. He jumped up. Did that mean they'd been burgled? That someone had been in the house while he'd been upstairs?

  He ran into the living room. The TV was still there, as was the DVD player as well as dad's computer. Mum's CD's hadn't been touched either. Then again, who in their right mind would want to listen to the rubbish she liked? It must have been some kids. They threw the brick, the window smashed, they crapped themselves and ran away. As strange as it sounded, this rather made him feel a little better. It proved that he wasn't totally alone after all. Even so, he couldn't leave the kitchen open to the elements. The last thing he wanted was for his mum to return only to find half the stray cats in town covering her furniture with fur.

  The cat had not returned when he walked back into the kitchen, which mad
e him feel a little sad. It might be only a cat but at least it had been company. Jordan pulled the table across, turned it on its side and pushed the surface against the hole. It wasn't great but it would do, at least until his parents came back and rang around to find someone to fix it.

  “Everything is okay,” he murmured. “This is just another normal, boring day.” I reckoned if he said the words out loud, they'd sound truer. All it did was to reinforce the fact that for the past couple of days, the only conversations he'd had been with himself, a computer generated woman, oh, and a cat. Then again, how else was that scenario any different to any other day? Apart from the cat bit.

  Jordan spent most of his time alone anyway, totally oblivious to the coming and going, the drama, and usual inane mediocre verbal bullshit which passed for conversation amongst the other members of the house. Why should it even concern him that his parents and annoying sister had decided to keep away for today?

  He walked over to the sink, leaned over and pressed his nose against the window. It didn't surprise him to find the scene outside hadn't changed. Apart from the hazard lights had completely died now. Why should it bother him if he was the last person on the planet? He didn't need anybody else in his life anyway. Other people just made his life too complicated.

  It occurred to him that as he had the run of the house, He'd be able to do pretty much whatever he wanted, as long as the others didn't find out. Looking for his dad's vintage porn mags was pretty high on his personal list, as was finding out where mum had hidden his collection of games, she took off him almost ten years. She swore blind that they'd not ended up on Ebay, that they were in a safe place and once he grew up and started to accept his responsibilities, then he'd have them back. Well, he'd grown up alright and found himself getting bored with console games anyway, once the immersion sims started to hit the market.

  Pleased with his plan of action, Jordan left the kitchen, after stealing a tin of hotdogs from the cupboard on his way out. He closed both doors then made his way back upstairs, eager to start on his new quest.

  Jordan paused at the top of the stairs, closed his eyes, then felt his way past the window. Once satisfied the view could no longer tempt him into doing something totally stupid, like leaving the house so he could check out that the inside of that estate car, to see if he could find any identification, he opened his eyes and ran over to his parent's bedroom.

  “I'm alone and they are the only options you can think of?”

  Hell, both choices were dangerous. They also placed him firmly on the other side of that line that he swore never to cross, to involve himself in their sad lives. If Jordan was going to risk his his life his life then his life then it should be for something worthwhile?

  His mind offered him another option, something far more dangerous than rifling through his parent's possessions. A quest which could very well end in his termination. Jordan smiled. Yeah, looking through his sister's stuff to find that diary she kept going on about could end up with him sucking his food through a straw, but only he failed to locate it and she somehow found out that he'd been going through her stuff. How likely was that to happen though? He was hardly likely to grass himself up.

  “Let's do this,”

  He ran out of the kitchen, up the stairs and stopped beside the bathroom. Jordon's heartbeat refused to slow and it wasn't due to the unexpected exercise. He padded over to her door. “Come on, man,” he muttered. “Grow a pair. What is she going to do. Eat you? Well, why not? The cow comes into my bedroom and goes through all my gear all the time.”

  If he did find her diary, there'd be a good chance that the name of this boy she was seeing would be in there. That info alone would be worth its weight in gold.

  “Leave me alone or I'll tell mum who you're sweet on,” he whispered. “Even better, don't speak to me ever again.” Yeah, Jordan liked that one even better. He crossed the carpet and ran into his sister’s room before his bravery deserted him.

  The placed smelled of cinnamon, lavender and something else, a subtle but persistent odour which seemed to cling to his clothes. Jordan couldn't place the smell despite being positive that he'd smelled something similar recently. Thing is, he was sure that had been while playing inside Necrovoid.

  The stronger smells came from the remains of a couple of scented candles on the windowsill. Purple and brown melted wax had dripped off the wood and dried on her radiator. God, dad would rip her head off if he saw that! Jordan made a beeline for the girl’s dressing table, figuring the drawers were the most obvious place to check. If they yielded no results then he'd have a look under her mattress, although Jordan doubted that even Susan would be dumb enough to hide it in such an obvious place.

  The nasty smell had gotten stronger. He stopped and wrinkled his nose. That really did smell bad! What the hell was it? Then again, judging by the amount of half-used perfume bottles cluttering up the surface, the stink could be coming from any of those bottles.

  He'd just have to hold his nose for the next few minutes, that's all. Jordan sat on the chair in front of the dresser and got to work, opening drawer after drawer, looking for anything resembling a diary. He was on the third drawer, wondering if he'd be able to sell her underwear to whoever she was going out with when something behind him crashed onto the carpet.

  Jordan shrieked out and jerked back, almost falling out of the chair. He grabbed the edge of the desk. Something else fell onto the carpet but that was his fault. He'd knocked two perfume bottles off the desk. He turned, expecting to see his furious sister standing behind him.

  A glass beaker, now empty, lay beside her bedside table, its previous contents now soaking into the carpet. He stood up and took a couple of steps closer to the side of the bed unable to figure out as to how the beaker could have possibly fallen off the table.

  He backed away, deciding that looking for his confiscated games and his dad's dirty mags sounded like a much better option. Hell maybe that pile of naughty comics could be used as blackmail material? He doubted mum knew about them or maybe she did? Maybe they read them together while... Jordan shut that thought down straight away. This place was seriously creepy enough without subjecting his poor mind to such images of vile depravity.

  Jordan stifled another shriek when he heard the sound of scratching coming from under the bed.

  “It's just the cat. Nothing else.” His words offered no comfort as deep down he knew it couldn't be the cat. Jordan had watched it run out of the house. “Yeah, just a cat,” he repeated. The scratching stopped.

  He thought his head was going to explode when a blood spattered hand appeared from out of the shadows. Jordan jumped back while shaking his head, unable to believe what his eyes were showing him. The hand moved a little closer, revealing an arm, another arm and then a mass of dishevelled blonde hair.

  “Susan?”

  The figure stopped crawling and lifted her head. Jordan groaned. Oh fuck, it really was her! “What the hell happened to you?” He received an excited growl in response, before she resumed her crawling. The woman was already halfway out from under the bed when he finally saw where the blood had come from. There was a deep ragged gash, stretching from between her breasts all the way down to her pubis, and as she moved, pieces of her insides fell out, littering the carpet with bloodied lumps of soft offal.

  “No!” he whispered. “This can't be happening to me, it just isn't possible!” His dead sister continued to pull her body out while keeping her doll-eyed gaze on his face. Jordan whimpered then spun around and fumbled for the door handle. His sweat-soaked fingers kept slipping off the metal.

  “Please don't eat me, Susan!” She had finally emerged from under the bed. He saw the fiend through the dressing table's reflection trying to stand up. She got onto her knees then suddenly fell forward when her intestines dropped out of her stomach cavity. Jordan's bladder emptied its contents down both legs. Tears were rolling down both cheeks. He finally grasped the metal just as his dead sister managed to get to her feet. The d
ead girl growled again then took one unsteady step towards him.

  Jordan pressed the handle down and the door opened a crack, letting in cool air. He opened it just wide enough for him to squeeze through before slamming it shut. All the strength in his legs left him, and he fell forward, hitting his head on the floor. Somewhere inside him, Jordan heard someone laughing. It sounded like Barry. What was he doing in his head? The chuckling continued as he crawled across the carpet, and didn't stop until his hands curled over the top step. Jordan blinked rapidly. The laughter had gone but the terrible noise coming from the other side of Susan's door continued. He turned around and sat against the wall, not knowing what the fuck he was going to do now.

  The moaning sound eventually died down. All he could hear now was more scratching. She was trying to get through the door. “She wants to eat me, to dine on my flesh.” Jordan burst into tears. “This can not be fucking real!” he shouted. “Stop it, leave me alone, it's all a dream, an illusion, nothing but sodding fantasy.”

  He rested his hands on his thighs while watching his sister's bedroom door. The scratching noise had stopped now. The voice in his head didn't look like it was going to make another appearance. Even his heartbeat had slowed down to the point where he no longer feared that the organ was about to burst through his fucking rib-cage.

  All he could hear was birdsong. Jordan vaguely wondered if the mad old bat had thrown out an umbrella or a couple of eggcups. No, not this time. From the sounds of it, it was real food this time. The feathery bastards sounded like they were having a party.

  Underneath the all the squawking, he could just about make out the sound of scratching. He remembered finding a cat in the kitchen earlier on. Did he throw it out? That bit was vague. Obviously not, either that or it had sneaked back inside. It sounded like it was in Susan's bedroom. Fine, let it stay there. The birds were safer with the cat locked away. Besides, there was no way in hell that he'd dare go in there. The last time Jordan entered his sister's bedroom without permission, she threatened to remove his bollocks with a butter knife.