Individually Wrapped Horrors

by Eric Joel Kleinschmidt, Sr.

  “Should we go help them, Chris?” Gina whispered.

  “Wait.” I whispered back. The door finally fell open and a mangled form that once was human began to crawl and claw its way out of the wreckage. The scalp was torn open and a large piece of broken glass protruded from its chest. One of its arms looked to be holding on by a few dangling tendons. It got free of the car and flopped off into the underbrush it had crashed into. We waited a moment more, Caylee and Gina both gripping each of my arms. The rustle of leaves and branches snapping came faintly. The figure slowly rose from the weeds and brush and shambled its way to the road again. The arm hanging on by tendons had given up and fallen off and the piece of glass was no longer in evidence. Either it had fallen out or gone deeper in and broken off. The figure drunkenly walked and hobbled closer to them. “Shawn,” I whispered. “Get the rifle.” Shawn and Derrick both made for the gun cabinet.

  “Chris, no! What are you thinking?” Gina whisper-scolded.

  “After what Sam did to the Doc. We need to be armed. Trust me when I tell you. There is something bad going on here.” She looked back at the figure who was now turning to walk down our driveway. The figure lost its balance and tumbled down our driveway, almost to the rear of the car. In other circumstances, it would’ve been comical. Not then though. Shawn and Derrick came back. Shawn had the 30.06, loaded and aimed. He handed me Sam’s Remington 870, also loaded, with a full box of shells. I put the box on the swing on the porch and we stood, armed and ready. “You guys all stay behind Shawn and me. Shawn? Come out here.” I whispered. The breeze blew gently and creaked through the trees. A million miles away it seemed, someone’s dog barked. Otherwise, there was only the sound of the staggering shuffling human-thing trying to get to its feet. “Hello?” I called down the porch steps to the figure. Its clothes were torn and it was or had been male. The shirt was mostly gone and the ragged gapping stump of an arm bleed furiously down its left side. It wore the remnants of jeans, torn and bloody, hanging loosely and revealing huge amounts of physical damage to the owner. “I said hello down there! Who are you? Are you hurt?” Gina looked at me both quizzically and frightenedly. There came no answer. A moan escaped the thing as it shambled closer to the porch. “Shawn, if I tell you, put one through his leg.” Shawn, already scoping the guy’s right leg, said:

  “Can do, dad.” I walked to the edge of the porch, minding to stay out of the scope of Shawn’s rifle.

  “This is your last chance, friend. Do you need help?” This raspy drone of a voice came from the thing’s mouth saying:

  “I just need to talk to you, Chris. Something’s not right. I needed to see you. To see you.” It got to the base of the steps and gave a great gurgling growl.

  “Shawn!” Not missing a beat, Shawn squeezed the trigger and took out the figure’s right kneecap. It crumpled and went down. It lay in a pile of blood and broken bones and mortal ruin at the base of the steps, still growling.

  “You can’t stop this, Chris. It’s coming! We’re coming! You’re too late!” I raised the shotgun and aimed it at the creature. Its bottom jaw dislocated and it roared, separating its jaws unnaturally and its mouth grew supernaturally wide. I pulled the trigger and the thing’s head exploded. The rest of the body slumped down lifeless on the bloody gravel. I looked back at the others. Gina and Caylee were holding tight to each other. Derrick stood in shocked amazement, staring at the lump of gore at our steps. Shawn, steady-gazed and strong, stood looking at me, rifle against his chest and pointed at the sky.

  “Derrick, you still with us?” I said in low tones.

  He flashed back to reality and looked over at me. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m here.” I nodded at him.

  “You’ve taken gun safety courses with Shawn, correct?” He slowly nodded. “That’s good. That’s very good. I want you and Shawn to go and collect up the rest of the guns. There’s another rifle and two pistols. Load all…carefully! Bring the remaining ammo and the guns all down to the living room.” The two nodded and were off. I looked at the girls. “Caylee? Gina? All right?” They both nodded shakily.

  “Dad? What was that? Was it human?” I looked back around at it. The slumped remains had quit leaking, for the most part.

  “I don’t know, baby. But we’re going to get the other guns, go in the house and I’ll tell you what I know, then we’re going to get the hell out of here. We’ll get some place safe and call the authorities. Maybe this is going on elsewhere.”

  ****

  While we were in the house arming up and figuring out what to do next, here’s part of the story I found out later on that was going on without me knowing it. The night before, the meteorite had landed. It had immediately been found by kids in the science department at the high school and—although it was at night—they got ahold of the science department heads and all met up at the school in a clandestine attempt to keep the meteorite from the public. The change had already begun to take hold in them, they just didn’t know it. The students then went home for the night, taking their new-found infection home to their families, who—unbeknownst to them—took it to work and various other whereabouts the next day. At the time of my family incident with the accident victim, over half of the town already had the sickness. That meteorite had been tracked also by the army. There was something special about it that lit up all of their warning lights and threw up every red flag they had. They came, quick and quiet, in the night and took the science heads and the meteorite. The black helicopter they came in was found a week later, crashed in a thick slash of forest going through some pretty deserted areas. Backwoods and rocky foothills, mostly. No bodies, nor remains were ever found. The meteorite was found however. It finally made its way back to a lab in South Carolina. A lab that John Q. Public has no knowledge of…until now that is. It made headlines when there was a mass slaughter there. The victims and their remains were all still there. Those who had killed them, dismembered them and in some instances, even eaten them were nowhere to be found. The meteorite that was logged in as evidence and talked about was also never found. As far as I know, it is still missing. All of this began our three-week siege.

  ****

  We had decided that our best course of action was to go town, grab a few fast supplies and hit the road. The only hiccup was Derrick. He had to get home, he told us. If there were any more things like that out there, his family had to be warned. So, it was decided that we would run over to his house first, grab supplies, then hit the road, with or without him and his family. Get as far and fast away from here as possible. We all grabbed the guns and backpacks with clothes and a few food staples and went out to the car. The first thing we noticed was that the lump of dead human was gone from our steps.

  “Dad…?” Caylee said. “Please tell me wild animals dragged it away.” She was staring at the spot when a loud growl came up through the trees. Birds took to flight. So far as I know and have witnessed, that was the last time in these three weeks that we have seen or heard birds or any kind of wildlife near the house. “Dad?” The silence fell after the growl. It was growing close to dusk at this point as we raced over to the car. Doors were flung open and backpacks were thrown inside.

  A tapping on my shoulder startled me and I spun to find Shawn, now pointing down the road and his eyes were fixed intently in this direction. I turned to follow his instruction. The four mile or so length of our gravel road was lined with headlights. The faint sound of a barrage of motor vehicles came to us as we stood in disbelief. That immense roar came again. Everyone began talking and freaking out in unison.

  “Quiet, everyone! Quiet!” I shouted. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. “Grab all the guns and ammo, the bags, too! Back into the house, quick!” Gina cut in:

  “But Chris, we’ve got to get out of here!” I shook my head.

  “This road’s a dead end about five or so miles down from here. We can’t get out. We’ve gotta get safe! Come on, grab the bags!” We all did so and ran back into the house. Once inside, all door
s were locked and bolted. “Shawn, you and Derrick—upstairs windows! One on each side of the house! Don’t shoot unless you have to, grab plenty of ammo!” The two boys grabbed the rifles and bullets and ran up the stairs. “Gina, you and Caylee grab the pistols. You both know how to shoot and reload, you’ll be back up. Go over in the living room behind the couch. Stay low.” They both kissed me on a cheek and ran to their spots. I stood looking out the front window as the line of cars approached the bend in the road. One by one, the inevitable pile up began. Several cars back, the line of drivers got the hint and slowed to a stop. Doors were opened as people began getting out and walking into the woods and ditch approaching the house. This is futile, I thought. The whole damn town’s out there! The people gathered about twenty or so yards from the front of the house and stood looking at us. I was watching them through the front window and presumably the two boys were looking out from the upstairs windows. One figure came from the crowd in the growing gloom outside, barely discernable in the failing light. It began to talk loudly, but it was all gibberish. I couldn’t make out one single word the figure was saying. It was a large figure nonetheless. Must’ve been a big boy, I thought as the figure approached at a slow pace. I reached my trembling hand up along the wall and found nothing. I looked over and saw the switch for the yard light about a foot away. I leaned over and clicked it on and saw to my horror the destroyed form of Doc Carrington! “No, Doc,” I whimpered. It was jawless and ripped in several places. Pieces of his arms and forehead were missing. One ear hung down in a ghastly fashion. His slicked back fifties hairdo was now slicked back with congealing gore. A few fingers on each hand were missing. He advanced on the house anyway, he alone. I walked over to the door and flung it wide open. Pointing the shotgun, I hollered down:

  “Get the hell outta here, Doc! Or whatever you are! You all just get away from here!” The others in the crowd stood silent as the Doc and I stood facing each other. Nobody moved. The former Doc Carrington tried again in vain to speak, it was no good. All I could make out were grunts and gargled vowel sounds. I watched him take three steps closer, almost to the bottom step, then I hit him with both barrels. He went down hard and I closed the door. Back inside, I noticed that the rest of the crowd still stood silently waiting. I reloaded. Gina and Caylee were both crying and I turned to them and put a shh finger up to my lips. The house fell dead silent. Shawn crept down the stairs to see how I was and then went back up again. We waited. That whole long damn night, we waited in silence. Shawn and Derrick took turns keeping watch while the other got some rest. Gina did likewise with Caylee. I stayed up the whole night. There was no sleep here for me tonight. Maybe never again. this was a real mess and I had no idea what to do next. I was a cartoonist, not a soldier. I kept watch. Shotgun in hand, box of shells by my feet with a few in my pockets for good measure. I watched.

  The sun rose around 6:30 the next morning and Shawn crept back down the stairs to me. Gina and Caylee were both asleep in each other’s arms at this hour. I woke Gina delicately and pointed to myself and Shawn, then to upstairs. She nodded understanding and I kissed her briefly on the lips. Shawn and I went upstairs. Derrick was taking his shift of rest and was out cold, rifle by his side. It made my heart happy and sad at the same time. “What’s wrong, son?” I asked. Shawn motioned me over to the window. He pointed out and up, over the tree line that was visible through the front window.

  “We’ve got company, dad,” he said to me hushed. I focused my eyes though the morning glare and saw what I can only describe as a platoon of army soldiers in troop transport trucks coming across the fields behind a fairly large tank that was laying down a path for them to follow. The troops slowly trundled their way over the fallen trees and underbrush, through small creek beds and through fencing. “What do you think? Good guys here to help, more crazy zombie-type people or worse?” I looked him in the eyes.

  “What can be worse than zombie-type people?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

  “Military that kills the zombie-type people, then kills us for having seen too much, or for being exposed to whatever it is that got all of those people so messed up in the first place. A military not in favor of loose ends.” That feeling of dread swept through me again and threatened to bring up the little I had eaten the night before. How I wanted to believe they were the cavalry here to save the day. How I wanted to.

  “You’ve seen too many zombie flicks, kid. Let’s just stay down and keep out of sight and see where this goes. Maybe we have a hope and a prayer yet.” He smiled and nodded.

  “OK, dad. You call the plays, we’ll back you to the end.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” I crept back downstairs, roused the girls and brought them back upstairs. Shawn had likewise woken Derrick up. We all stood looking out the windows as the army troops approached steadily. We continued to watch them get closer and closer. The tank in the lead disappeared behind a small hill for a moment, its rumble muffled, before bursting up and over with a mechanical roar that drew the attention of the crowd of towns people. They all looked in that direction as a deafening blast came from the large-caliber main gun. It exploded a crater where many of the people stood. They were blown into pieces and scattered across the yard. Others were just thrown back or knocked over. The tank continued its advance. The tank came up and over the front cars in the pile up, crushing them to scrap metal beneath its mighty treads. It pulled up to the door yard and came to a rest beside the family car. We looked down from the window as soldier popped up out of the top of the tank and pointed machine guns at the remainder of the crowd. The transport trucks pulled into the driveway behind the tank and more troops jumped out, armed and ready. The total must have been around fifty guys and gals in all. All in camouflage, all armed. Most looked very young. An older man in black camo with more pins and whatnot on his uniform came up the stairs to the house. I knocked casually on the window and he glanced up at us. I motioned him to come in and up and he did so.

  “Michaels family?” he said curtly.

  “Yes,” I answered back. “I’m Chris Michaels and this is my family.” He briefly looked at each one of us, measuring us in his way, and then back to me.

  “General Hal Davidson. We are here on an urgent matter.”

  “You think so?” Shawn retorted. He snapped a glance at my boy and just then, I didn’t like him all that much.

  “Shawn, go easy, son.”

  “Sorry, dad.” He was in an apparent staring contest now with the general, but he broke eye contact and looked over at me. “We’re just all on edge here.” The General turned and looked out the front window. He went on.

  “We are here on an urgent matter. This situation outside is not going to go away, it will not improve. It will instead worsen to the point of chaos on your front lawn. Do you understand me?” He paused for effect. I nodded. “Good, because this is not a game, this is not one of your children’s first-person shooter games. This is a real-life situation and we are here to defuse that situation if at all humanly possible. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” I said, not liking being talked down to. “We understand, General Davidson.” He gave a false smile and continued.

  “This situation is not just here, it is in fact happening all around this big wide globe. There is only one thing that makes this particular place stand out as special and do any of you happen to know what that one thing is?” He waited, but we all shook our heads. “The one thing that makes this place particularly special is that what caused this originated here and is therefore calling them all back here. They are being drawn here for reasons we do not yet know. The object in question that caused this has been removed and is elsewhere on the planet and yet they are all coming this way. In droves.”

  “Um, excuse me, General Davidson, when you say they are coming this way, who do you mean?” His penetrating glare shifted over to Gina and he smiled a smile I could’ve gone my whole life without seeing.


  “Why Mrs., they are all coming here. All the people from all around the world are gravitating in this general direction. There are the few out there like ourselves who for one reason or another have been deemed immune. We do not yet know nor do we understand why. We only know it is a mathematical certainty. Whatever is drawing them all is here and we have to find it and destroy it or die trying. I know that many of these folks outside your window are your neighbors and friends, but just now—they are public enemy numero uno! Comprendo?” She nodded uncertainly and had no further questions for our new guest. The General turned to look out the window. Two people, a man and a woman, were coming up the driveway. They were on foot and approached slowly, as every gun in the troop swung around to catch them in their crosshairs.

  “Wait! Please! Our son is in there!” Derrick’s eyes opened wide and he bolted to the window. He slid open the window and cried out:

  “Hey! That’s my mom and dad! Don’t shoot my mom and dad!” He then bolted from the room and down the stairs. The General let him go and radioed down to his men to let him pass to them, but not to let them into the house and to keep their weapons trained on them at all times. He added, almost as an afterthought, for them to not hurt the boy. We all watched from the upstairs window—which was now open—as Derrick ran into his mother and father’s embrace. The General pulled out a large pistol and trained it squarely on the parents. The reunion was brief and emotional. Then, clear as a bell, the whole family and myself and all the soldiers down below heard the dad call out:

  “Chris! Chris Michaels! I need to see you! I just wanted to come see you! We all just wanted to see you!” I leaned my head out of the upstairs window and yelled back down.

  “Tim! I’m here, buddy! What do you need me for?” Derrick’s father looked up in seeming split second agitation. The fire seemed to just grow in his eyes as his grip around Derrick’s throat began to tighten. Derrick began to struggle as his mom grabbed for him also. General Davidson’s finger held tight, squeezing just a little under the trigger pressure.