by Devin Hanson
I left Sam standing at the grill, staring dumbly after me. I felt a little bad for unloading on him like that, but, if I was being completely honest with myself, I was terrified he had been about to rationalize why it might be okay to have sex again. And I don’t know if I would have been able to turn him down.
Ryan didn’t need help with the sides. He had the containers unwrapped and was sliding a tray loaded with foil containers into the oven to keep warm. I smelled roasted potatoes and rosemary before he shut the oven door and straightened up to give me an uncomfortable look.
“Everything okay out there?”
“Shit. I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
He shook his head quickly. “No, I didn’t catch anything but the tone. Um, I hope I’m not the reason for your argument.”
I gave him a smile, more out of relief than anything else. “No, you’re good. You seem handy around a kitchen. Careful, or I might make your residence here permanent.”
“Spare me that fate,” he rolled his eyes and chuckled. “If you don’t mind me asking, though, I do have a question.”
“Can’t promise an answer, but ask away.”
“Why is Sam here? From what I understood from Ethan, you two aren’t dating?”
I leaned across the island and grabbed a carrot stick from a vegetable platter. “We’re not. Sam’s here for… professional reasons.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I refused a protective detail, so Sam’s here to keep his conscience happy.”
His frown deepened. “You’re in danger?”
I shrugged. “You think I’d be hanging out having a barbeque if I thought it was serious?”
Ryan’s eyes flicked toward the back where the grill was. “I guess not.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not gang violence or anything. Nobody’s going to be shooting at me. If someone does try to break in, just get out of the way and let Sam deal with it.”
“I noticed Sam was carrying,” Ryan said, trying for a neutral tone, but I could hear the intensity in his voice.
“He’s a cop. He probably sleeps with a gun under his pillow.”
“I heard that!” Sam called from the back entrance. “Clear a spot, hot meat coming through.”
Ryan and I rushed to make an open space and Sam double-timed it to the kitchen island. He slid a plate onto the island piled with gloriously charred steaks. “I cooked them to rare,” he said, “so they’ll need a moment to rest.”
“Good man,” Ryan exclaimed, leaning forward to admire the perfect crisscross grill marks. “You have no idea how many times I’ve been served blackened leather under the guise of ‘safely cooked food’ in the military.”
To my relief, Sam seemed to have compartmentalized my outburst. The only look he gave me was to shoot a quick smile as he searched through drawers to find the tinfoil. It must be some of that fabled male pragmatism in play.
Concern over Sam’s feelings got lost in the bustle as we all busied ourselves preparing our feast. Sam had outdone himself with the steaks. Mine was one of the best I had ever had, thick, juicy, cooked just enough to give it a crust, and rested to a perfect medium rare. The sides were good, but didn’t hold a candle to the steak.
I ate until it hurt.
After eating, we retired to the living room with beer. I sat back on the couch, enjoying my food coma and listening to the men talk. Their conversation jumped around a bit before settling into cars, and they quickly left behind what little understanding I had on the topic. That was fine with me, I wasn’t up to contributing anything anyway.
I had a throw blanket to wrap myself up in, pleasant company to listen to, a full belly and a beer in my hand. I was happy, relaxed and tired from the emotional and physical stress of the last few days. It didn’t take long before the voices faded into a distant rumble.
At some point, the mostly-empty beer bottle was taken gently from my hand. I woke up just enough to burrow into the pillow someone slipped under my head. A second throw blanket was laid on top of me and the added warmth dragged me back under like a rip tide.
I woke with a start, disoriented and in the dark. It took me a long moment before I recognized the leather of my couch beneath me and remembered that I had fallen asleep in the living room. My heart was hammering and adrenaline sloshed through my chest with nowhere to go.
What had woken me? Was it the ghoul? I lay as still as I could, listening. Somewhere across the room, I heard the soft, rhythmic susurration of someone breathing. I fumbled my phone out of my pocket and shone the light of the screen into the darkness.
Sam was sitting in a padded armchair, a blanket thrown over his shoulders. He was fast asleep, his gun on the side table next to him. I felt a flash of guilt that I had taken the couch from him. He should have woken me.
I settled back onto my pillow and shifted my feet, stretching out a little bit. The adrenaline was already fading and sleep was calling. Something shifted at my feet and I looked down to see Grim sitting on the cushion, his yellow eyes shining in the glow of my phone’s screen. He must have woken me when he had jumped up onto the couch.
With a sigh, I thumbed off the phone screen and settled back. My eyes were just drifting closed when sudden pain spiked up my leg. I gasped and jerked upright, bringing my phone around to shine it down on Grim.
Grim glared at me, squinting against the bright light. He had one paw held an inch away from my foot, the claws extended.
“What the hell, Grim?” I hissed at him.
The cat gave a low, threatening yowl and flexed his claws at my foot.
All thoughts of sleep were gone. I yanked my foot away from him before he could stab me again and sat up the rest of the way. The cold air of the living room got in under my scarf and shocked away the last of my drowsiness. God damn cat.
Grim sat back and flicked his tail.
“Did I steal your sleeping spot or something?” I whispered at him irritably.
Sometimes I wish I could speak to animals. Cats in particular. I would have all kinds of questions for them, but first and foremost, I would ask if they were assholes all the time, or if it was just something they did for entertainment. That wasn’t going to happen, of course, not unless Grim was a hinn that had been hiding his identity from me for months.
Satisfied, I guess, that I was fully awake, Grim ignored me and turned his head to stare toward the garage.
I followed his gaze, more out of curiosity than anything else. If I hadn’t been sitting up and wide awake, if I hadn’t been paying attention and looking in that direction, I never would have heard the soft click of the doorknob turning.
My breathing locked up and my heart leapt into my throat. I sat frozen in fear as the door to the garage swung slowly open. In the dim glow of my phone, I saw a gaunt figure in the doorway, slightly hunched, stringy hair hanging limp around its face. Its arms hung loosely at its sides, and a dark stain was blotched across its chest. In the deep pits of its eye sockets, reflected light gleamed off eyes turned milky in death.
Then my phone’s battery saver turned the screen off, plunging the room into darkness.
In the darkness, its voice creaked out, breathy and hoarse. “Alexandra…”
I screamed. Like a little girl. Like a blonde in a B-rated slasher movie. I screamed so loud my voice cracked. The fear paralysis vanished and I thumbed at my phone, searching for the little divot that would bring the screen back to life. I heard the wet slap of bare feet running across the floor and my groping finger finally found the button.
Light flooded the room and I had a split second to see the ghoul lunging at me across the back of the couch. One hooked hand slapped the phone out of my grip and it skittered away, landing face down and plunging the room back into blackness again. Fingers as cold as the grave dug into my neck and weight bore down on me, pinning me to the couch.
I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream. One of my arms was pinned beneath me and I couldn’t get
it free. With my other hand, I scrabbled at the ghoul and felt dampness across its chest, making it slippery and treacherous. Beneath my hand, hard muscle writhed beneath cold flesh and my skin crawled in disgusted horror.
“Alex? Are you okay?”
Through the building roar of static in my ears, I heard the click of a light switch and Sam’s surprised grunt. The room stayed dark. The ghoul caught my wrist and pinned it to the couch above my head. Its fingers dug into my throat harder and stars burst through my vision.
I kicked out, trying to find leverage to get the ghoul off my chest. Panic was building, though. I didn’t have long before the ghoul finished cutting off the blood to my head. All my kicking succeeded in doing was knocking a cushion off the couch.
Dim light bloomed. I saw the ghoul kneeling above me, the borrowed flesh of its face sagging and twisted. Sam shouted in surprise and the ghoul snapped its head around to look at him. In one fluid movement the ghoul pushed itself off me and lunged for Sam.
I rolled off the couch to my knees, gasping after air. The light was mostly gone again, just a glow from Sam’s phone flashlight bouncing off the far wall. Sam and the ghoul were silhouettes, struggling on the ground. I had moment of regret that my tonfa were once again tucked away into my scooter’s seat compartment. There might be some junk in the garage that would make a serviceable weapon, but I didn’t have time to find something.
More accurately, Sam didn’t have time. There was a meaty thump and Sam staggered back from the ghoul, reeling drunkenly.
“Hey!” I cried. “It’s me you want, isn’t it?”
The ghoul twisted around and hissed wordlessly before running at me in a low lope, almost bent over far enough for its knuckles to drag on the ground. I didn’t have time to think, but the hours I had spent on the mat had ingrained some basic fighting instinct into me. I didn’t freeze up this time. I took half a step back, just far enough to find solid footing, and readied myself.
The ghoul’s final lunge brought it slamming into me. Ragged nails scraped across my arm with an accompanying flash of pain, but I caught the ghoul’s weight and turned my hips, using the ghoul’s own weight and strength to throw it past me. It snarled in surprise, crashed into a side table and tumbled to the ground.
I turned to follow the ghoul. With my back to the light source, everything was a washed-out palette of greys. The ghoul scrambled to its feet and shrieked at me. The piercing cry was cut off by the deafening crack of Sam’s handgun. Blood spotted the ghoul’s chest and it staggered backward under the impacts before diving behind the cover of the couch.
“The head, Sam!” I shouted. “You have to shoot it in the head!”
Bubbling, throaty laughter came from behind the couch. I saw the ghoul scuttle out from the far side, running on its hands with its feet splayed out behind him. Sam pivoted and started firing. I clapped my hands over my ears as the gunshots hammered out one after another. The ghoul’s back was a raw, cratered landscape of seeping exit wounds, but it still moved with animal swiftness.
Fresh wounds appeared as the ghoul bobbed and weaved, lunging erratically first one way then another, but always closing the distance toward Sam. Sam backpedaled, firing in controlled rhythm. One of the ghoul’s arms folded as a bullet shattered the bone. Before Sam could line up a headshot, the ghoul recovered and juked to the side, taking the bullet aimed at its head in the shoulder instead.
Sam’s gun locked open on an empty magazine and the ghoul surged upright and sprang at him from fifteen feet away. I saw Sam’s head bounce on the concrete as they crashed to the ground and his gun skittered across the floor.
“Sam!” I cried.
The ghoul crouched over Sam for a moment, then straightened up when Sam didn’t move. I watched it in horror as it rolled its shoulder and lumps of flesh drooled from gaping wounds and pattered to the floor. Its mouth gaped at me and it made a gurgling moan. Air sputtered from sucking chest wounds as its lungs pumped in a futile effort to speak.
Shit. Now what? I thought about going for Sam’s gun, but then what? It was out of ammo. Sam probably had a spare magazine somewhere, but the ghoul was unlikely to simply watch while I searched for it.
“What do you want?” I screamed at it. “Just leave me alone!”
It wheezed laughter at me and started a confident, lurching walk in my direction. I backed away slowly and stumbled over a throw pillow. In an instant the ghoul was on me, all flashing teeth and clammy skin. I scraped together a judo throw but I didn’t have my balance right and we both went crashing to the ground.
At least I had both my arms free this time, and the ghoul only had one. I got my forearm up under its jaw and stopped its snapping teeth bare inches from my face. Fetid breath rolled over me as the ghoul locked its legs around my waist and started inching its way up my chest. Its still functional hand went for my throat. I grabbed at its wrist, but the cold skin was slick with blood and I couldn’t find the leverage to keep its hand away.
Clammy fingers closed about my throat for the second time that night. I strained against the ghoul’s weight but I didn’t have the strength to throw it free. The energy I had received from Sam the night before had gone toward healing my broken back and other injuries. Not much had been left over, and what little excess I had was gone. Now all I had to hold off the ghoul was my own muscle and sinew.
It wasn’t enough. The ghoul’s teeth snapped together close enough that I could feel the cold dampness of its lips brushing against my cheek. I pounded at it with my other hand, searching for some way to break the hold it had on my neck, but my vision was starting to spark and fade.
There was a meaty thunk and the ghoul went limp on top of me. I sobbed in a harsh breath as its hand sagged open from around my neck. Ryan grunted as he yanked the fire axe from the back of the ghoul’s skull and held it up, ready to bring it slamming down again.
I shoved the ghoul aside and rolled to my hands and knees. The body was dead. Or, rather, it was re-dead. The ghoul was gone, leaving behind the corpse of an old man, now ravaged almost beyond recognition. I gagged and gasped after breath, with tears running down my face.
“What the fuck,” Ryan exclaimed.
It was almost 4 in the morning before the cops finally left. Ryan, perhaps worried about getting tied up in a legal case, was perfectly happy to let Sam and I do the talking. Rather, I played the victim while Sam spun some nonsense about a home invasion and referred the responding officers to Lara.
The body turned out to be a resident of a local nursing home, one of those places where old people go to live out their last days before shuffling off their mortal coil. I let the uniformed officers come to the conclusion that the old man had had dementia. Apparently, it wouldn’t have been the first time. They took the body away in a bag and left us to clean up and try to find what little sleep we could.
I slumped down on the couch after making sure there wasn’t any blood splashed on it. Turns out, shooting a body that’s already dead doesn’t make too much of a mess.
“The breaker box was broken into,” Ryan said quietly. “I found the lock cut in half and bolt cutters lying next to it. With the power cut, the garage doors are designed to be opened by hand in case of an emergency.”
I nodded wearily. Another repair. I’d have to invest in a lock that couldn’t be so easily broken. Maybe even move the breaker box inside. Either option would cost money that my dwindling bank account couldn’t really support. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“You did some good work with that axe,” Sam nodded at Ryan. He was holding a bag of frozen peas against the back of his head, where he had a knot the size of a walnut.
“So… either one of you going to tell me what actually happened?” Ryan demanded.
I shared a look with Sam, then shrugged. “Sure, what do you want to know?”
Ryan coughed a disbelieving laugh. “Uh, how about how an old man was shot seven times and still managed to overpower both of you?”
Sam rolled a sh
oulder and winced. “Drugs are a hell of a thing.”
“Drugs?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s what the cops said, right? Patient off his anti-aggression meds or something.” I turned to Sam. “What’d he say? Memantine?”
“Yeah,” Sam nodded, stepping into his role as straight man without a hitch. “Dementia drug, I think? Has hyper-aggression as a side effect in a small percentage of cases. They’ll do some blood work and figure out what happened.”
Ryan nodded and rubbed his face. “Man. I’ve never seen anything like that before. And I’ve seen some wild shit.”
I sighed and forced myself to sit up. I was exhausted and my nerves were raw with the aftermath of the fight. The worst of the gore had been cleaned up, but there were still divots in the floor where Sam’s bullets had passed through the ghoul. Even more repairs that I would have to do.
It was a little surprising that Ryan was taking everything so well. Even if the story we were feeding him had been accurate, he had had to kill an old man with an axe. Maybe he was used to that sort of thing from his time in the military.
“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat.” I stood up and stretched. “I’m going to go to bed.”
Sam exchanged a look with Ryan. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stay up and keep watch.”
“Suit yourself,” I called over my shoulder as I walked out of the room. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
If we were going to have a chance at catching this ghoul, we would have to out-smart it, and there was no way that was going to happen without a few more hours of sleep. With Sam and Ryan watching over me, I felt safe enough to try and get some shut-eye.
I had a feeling it was the last chance to rest that I would get.
Chapter Eleven
My ringing phone pulled me from sleep and I rolled over in my bed to check the screen. Tovarrah’s number glared at me. It was barely 8 o’clock, far too early to deal with her. I muted the phone and fell back against the pillow. Tovarrah could wait until a more reasonable hour.