Cadaver Dogs

Road to Nowhere

For once the I-5 was quiet.  Deserted except for the occasional accident that hadn’t been cleared or the pile up that was moved slightly to allow a vehicle to pass by.  These things were unpredictable but usually able to be seen miles ahead.

Rafferty drove as fast as he could on those long stretches of road trying to make up time in the 1990 Chevrolet Corsica.  Beside him in the passenger seat was his girlfriend Darlene.  Her long, black, curly hair hung down in front of her as she studied the map resting on her thighs.

In the back seat, on the passenger side the back of his head against the window, hemmed in by a cardboard box full of vending machine food and three large blankets was Devon.  He was positioned at an angle so that his left leg could be extended along the edge of the backseat.  He rubbed at it trying to keep sensation in the damn thing.

They didn’t know if it was broken of twisted and there was no one to ask.  That was part of the reason they were traveling. Rafferty slowed to navigate a pile up.

“How much gas do we have?” Darlene asked.

“Not much, less than a quarter tank,” Rafferty answered. 

“We should get some.  Only you’re sucking this time,” Darlene said.

Rafferty only smiled back at first.

Many people had been ahead of them, as a part of the great migration north to the Oregon Mountains, most often families and groups of friends in long caravans like the settlers who had come to the west in covered wagons.

With a few swerves of the car they cleared the wreckage of a school bus and several cars.  It was impossible to know why the vehicles were there. 

“Next crash we come to I’ll just jump right out and fill ‘er up.”  He pressed down on the accelerator and soon they were back up to cruising speed.

Darlene raised her head and stuck her arm out the window.  By circumstance she was dressed for 90’s Grunge Night in a blue and black flannel, dark blue jeans, and combat boots.  She also wore a metal ball necklace and several rubber ‘cause’ bracelets”: AIDs Awareness, Gay Marriage Rights, Cancer Awareness, etc.

“We could go back.  There were a couple of cars and it doesn’t look like anything is ahead,” she said.
Rafferty didn’t like the idea of going back because he didn’t like the idea of siphoning gas.  Twice now he tasted it and once he swallowed some.

“There will be something,” he said.  “We haven’t really reached no man’s land yet.”

“Okay,” she replied.  “But I really don’t want to be searching around no man’s land for gas.”

She reached to the back seat area and felt around in the box before returning with a bag of Frito Corn Chips. 

They had stockpiled at every gas station, store, and vending machine they could find.  There was no such thing as stealing anymore.  “Mine was mine and yours was mine,” was the new First Commandment.

“Do you think people will ever live in the city again?” Devon asked.

“Of course,” Rafferty replied.  “Just not for a while, they have to clean up all the remnants of the plague, clean out all the zombies.”

Darlene leaned against the door.

“I can’t believe we made it.  Three fucking white kids from suburbia,” Darlene said.

Rafferty grimaced and raised his brown arm for her to see.

“Well sort of white kids,” she corrected.

She had a habit of doing that, of talking about Rafferty as if he were white when really he was half Japanese and half African-American, a true L.A. mutt as he liked to say.  He knew Darlene all his life.  From the age of five they were neighbors and this was why she often thought of him as being white because in her mind she couldn’t tell the difference with him and herself. 

At first it was nice to be so close to someone and not think about race or skin color but then as he got older the difference did matter sometimes.  When it was just him at the park or just him in the hallway then he was the half black, half Japanese young man he saw in the mirror. 

“Corn chip?” Darlene asked extending the bag.

Rafferty took a chip and munched away.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“It’s cause I called you white,” she said.

“No,” he replied.

“It could be worse.”

“How could it be worse?”

Darlene propped her knee up against the dashboard but didn’t speak.

****

“Over there, right there, slow down,” Darlene said.

Rafferty slowed the Corsica and came to a stop but whatever it was he had not seen it.  The highway was clear ahead and behind and it was the middle of the day.

“Go back.”

Rafferty shifted to reverse and looked in the rear view mirror as he backed up.  Then when she wasn’t telling him to stop he decided to be more committed and turn his body with his right arm over the passenger seat.

To the right, where Darlene was looking, was a large grassy knoll that sloped up from the highway to create a visual barrier for what Rafferty soon recognized was an off ramp.

“Where are we?” Rafferty asked.

“I don’t know.”

Still in reverse, Rafferty angled the car so that he could easily shift into drive and head down the off ramp.  He brought the car to a complete stop and before he could shift completely to park Darlene was out of the car with the lead pipe in her hand.

“Wait, come back,” Rafferty said. 

He looked forward to where she was walking and saw the back end of a car, a Ford Tempo to be exact.  He turned off the ignition, pulled the keys, and grabbed his own weapon of choice, a short-sword he had found in a medieval store.

“Hey, take the walkie,” Devon said holding out a walkie-talkie.

“We’ll just be right there,” Rafferty said.

Devon raised his eyebrows and wagged it up and down making Rafferty laugh a little before taking it.  “Look,” he said pointing towards the windshield.  Rafferty turned to see Darlene between to the two cars, her arms out from her sides ready to fight. 

“I’m going to check it out,” Rafferty replied.

When he reached her he looked ahead to what she was staring at and that’s when he saw them.  Dogs.  There were possibly a dozen of them of mixed breeds though most of them were large and black.  They were littered on the ground all around the two cars, the hillside.  Their chests bloated, a smell of decay in the air that changed with the wind.  Their legs were like sticks.  Flies and bees moved between the bodies, passed within inches of Rafferty and Darlene. 

“What are they doing here?” Darlene asked.

“I don’t know but I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

“Are they dead?  They look like they’re dead.”

“I think so.  But I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I but we have to get the gas and see if the car has any supplies.”

“We can find something else,” Rafferty suggested.

Darlene turned on him.

“No we can’t.  We had the opportunity for something else but you passed it up and now we have this.  I don’t see anything ahead of us on the highway.  And we can’t go into town because we both know our chances of getting out. This could be the only thing and we can’t run out of gas.  We can’t lose our car.” 

She was mad.  So mad she might start crying.

“We’ll be fast,” Rafferty said.

“Okay, and this time you suck,” Darlene responded pointing at him but with a grin on her face.

****

Rafferty knelt beside the side of the Tempo on one knee, his sword in reach.  His left hand held one end of the tube inside the gas container as he ran the other end down into car’s tank.  But no liquid moved.  He knew what he needed to do.  He took the end of the tube from the container and placed it between his teeth.  The smell tickled his nose.

Nothing could scare him.  He was one.  He was Zen.  This was the last time, the only time he would have to do this.  No sound.  He was alone in white space. 

A little suck and he saw the gas in the line then placed the end of the tube in the container spilling a little.  He had done it and he had not tasted gasoline.

“I feel bad for them!” Darlene yelled from inside the Tempo. 

Rafferty tilted his head to see a shadow of her kneeling on the driver’s seat.  He wouldn’t have made it this far without her.  She had saved his life both physically and emotionally.  She had been there to comfort him laying together in the backseat.  That was before Devon.

“Remember when I was vegetarian for while?” she asked.

“Yeah, I remember,” he replied.  He checked the line and the container both were doing well.

“I’m not finding much in here.  The backseat is just blankets and such, a great big stack of them.  There are a couple of bucks here and there but what good are they anymore?  Do you want some old Tic-Tacs?  The floor well is littered with lottery tickets and dollar bills, old cigarettes, ew gross.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Just stuck my hand in something that I’m not sure what it is.”

The last of the gasoline and the container was three-fourths full.  Rafferty put the cap on the container and stood his hands went to his hips automatically in the way his mother used to stand, thumbs forward and fingers in back.  Someone had told him once that was how women stood, women and faggots.

“Holy shit!”

Rafferty looked to the car hoping something more would be said and he was relieved when he heard,
“We hit the Jack-Pot!”  He moved to the passenger side door and tried to open it but it was locked.  He looked down through the window and saw Darlene with a gun in her hands as she rested on her knees.  She reached across and unlocked the door.  He pulled it open and reached for the gun.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she retracted with the gun still in her hands, protective of it. 

“You don’t even know how to use one,” he said.  “You could—”

“Shoot my eye out?  Please, I know how guns work.  More than you do anyway.”

“Yeah well I’ve actually shot them,” he said.

“Really?”  She looked up at him with a refreshed face as if she had found some new respect for him.  “Not just Duck Hunt or some other video game?”

“No, a real gun, now give it here.”

This time she handed over the gun easily and he sat on the passenger seat one leg curled under his body.

“The safety was off,” he said. 

He popped the clip and began to unload the bullets. 

“There are five shots here and possibly one in the chamber,” he said.  “You could have seriously—”

“Shot the car?  It doesn’t have any gas in it.”

“Not anymore.” 

“Besides I know enough to not pull the trigger.”

“Still,” he said.

“Men,” she replied and crossed her arms.

“This could be a good find.  We should check the trunk.  Are there keys?”

“I didn’t find any.  The driver’s side door was unlocked.”

“Huh, someone just left this here.”  Rafferty held up the pistol to admire it.

“Okay Rambo,” Darlene said.

“Rambo?  I was always partial to Jean Claude Van Dam.”

“Whatever,” she replied and looked out the front window to the surrounding ground, the part of the road she could see and the dogs.  “I kind of feel sorry for them.  I mean look at them, there are so many and they were probably just left there.  Maybe they were poisoned.”  She shifted in the seat and leaned against the wheel.  “Do they look alive to you?  Dead bodies just seem so odd.  I keep expecting them to vanish like in video games.  Like your purpose is up just go away.”

“I know what you mean,” Rafferty checked the chamber but it was empty.  He loaded the clip.

“Remember when I was goth for a while?  And I was all into death.  At least I thought I was.”

“And you had those Tarot cards and you read poetry,” he replied.

“Look at them,” she said.  “The hounds of Hell just sprawled out there.  Rafferty, I think one of them is moving.”

“Shut up,” Rafferty said dismissively.

“No, Rafferty look.  I think they are getting up.”

Rafferty looked and at first he didn’t spot what Darlene was pointing at then he saw the movement, a little at first in one of the dogs.

“It’s just the wind,” he said.

“No look, the others are moving too,” she replied.

“Let’s get out of here.” 

Rafferty turned and stood.  Darlene did the same.  Now on either side of the car they looked around themselves only see that a few dogs had gone unnoticed behind them and that they were waking up too. 

“What do we do?” Rafferty asked.  “I don’t think we can get to the car.”

“Shoot them,” Darlene answered.

Rafferty raised the gun and aimed at one of the dogs between them and their car.  He fired once and the gun bucked in his hand making him miss.

“I thought you said you shot one of those before,” Darlene said.

“I have.  It’s just been a long time,” he said.  But he had lied.  He had never actually shot a gun before.  He had only read a lot about it.  And he had played paintball once with friends in his first year of college.  He took aim again and fired.

This time the bullet hit.  At least he was sure it hit because the dog’s body reacted a little but it still stood and walked forward.

“I hit it,” he said

“I saw,” Darlene responded.

“It didn’t do anything.”
   

“I saw.”

“What now?”

“Can we make a run for it?”

“I don’t think so.  They’re spaced out but I don’t think we can get back to the car.  What do we do?”

“Now we hide in the car,” Darlene answered.

Both climbed into the car, closed their respective doors, made sure the windows were closed and the doors locked.

“Now what?” Rafferty asked.

“Now we pray,” she said.

*****

There was a loud honk of the horn from the Corsica behind them.  Darlene turned on her seat but Rafferty simply looked in the side mirror.  Devon had managed to get into the driver’s seat and now he was honking the horn in a futile Morris Code. 

“What’s he trying to do?”

“Distract them.  Get our attention.  I don’t know,” Rafferty said.

“If only we had telepathy or knew Morris Code.”

Rafferty remembered the walkie-talkie and pulled it from his pocket.

The dogs began to growl, a circle of noise and threat, a primitive brain with only primitive intentions. 

Darlene turned around and sat then leaned close as Rafferty turned the device on.

“You guys okay?” Devon’s distorted voice asked from the Technicolor device in Rafferty’s hand.

Rafferty depressed the talk button and said, “We’re fine.  How about you?”

“I’m fine too.  I managed to get all the windows closed.”

“How many do you see around the car we’re in?” Rafferty asked.

“Five or six.  What about me?”

“Three or four,” Rafferty answered.

“Tell him to run the suckers over,” Darlene said.

“He has a bad leg,” Rafferty said.  “And I have the keys.”

“Way to go.  Smooth move, Ex-Lax,” Darlene said.  “Damn.”

Rafferty pressed the talk button again and said, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Well I don’ think there is much I can do,” Devon said.

Rafferty and Darlene leaned against each other their heads in familiar positions.  Their hands gripped together.  They had begun to smell alike and it was comforting.

“Let’s think this through,” Rafferty said.  “We have a gun with three shots left but it’s ineffective against the dogs.  There are too many dogs to fight.  I just drained the gas tank so there probably isn’t anything in it.  The dogs can’t get in but we can’t get out.” 

“Impossible odds.”  Darlene rubbed one hand on her thigh then replaced it around Rafferty’s hand before saying, “But it’s all impossible.”

“Yet the world as we know it isn’t over, just changing and leaving us behind.  It was just a rock in space before us and it will still be a rock after we all die.  Humanity has lived through Ice Ages, dictatorships, and genocides with little rhyme or reason.  We have landed on the moon and examined the stars.  Personally we have graduated from college and nearly had successful careers before this shit.  In previous conditions are life expectancy was 70 years or so but now…”

“Times like this,” Rafferty said, “What do you wish for?”

“I don’t know,” Darlene said.  “You go first.”

Rafferty shifted a little and the gun sunk down between his thighs.

“I wish that I was seven years old and we were at my birthday party again.  We had so much fun.  We went swimming at the pool and we had sundaes and we played all day without a care in the world.  There was no future, no past, not even a present really.”

Darlene cleared her throat. 

“I wish that we could just go away into the darkness and never feel anything again.  I want to stay like that forever.”

“I’d say we kill ourselves but we have Devon to think about,” Darlene said.

“He did save our lives,” Rafferty answered. 

“And if he wasn’t messing around in that tree then he might be here instead of one of us.  And you know he would try to help one of us again.”

Rafferty lifted the gun a little but it was suddenly heavier than he remembered and it was cold and unreal because it was too simplistic.  It was a handheld device that can kill with the pull of a trigger.

“Rafferty?  What’s that sound?”

“What sound?”

Then he heard it behind them, a slow movement slightly muffled by blankets.

“I think something is in here with us,” Rafferty said.

Rafferty turned on the back seat, gun in right hand, his left reached for the pile of blankets.

“I have no choice,” he said.  And he lifted the blankets. 

There was a shift and an entire blanket rose separate from the others like a person pretending to be a ghost during Halloween and rushed Rafferty who held out his left hand to stop the attack.  The form was strong and fierce and Rafferty found himself pressed backwards against the dashboard until the figure’s face was inches from his own with the blanket still around it.  Rafferty was frightened for a moment that the form could still bite him as he felt its hot breath and recognized drool in the fabric.  As much as he tried he couldn’t push the figure away and Darlene was equally unable to pull the figure off.  Rafferty thought of the gun in his right hand and realized it would be easy to shoot the monster. 

The first shot sounded, the bullet passed through the monster’s chest and through the roof of the car but the monster didn’t stop.  Rafferty knew there was only one other way.  He pulled the gun from under the monster and positioned it against the sheeted head.  Once and the monster was injured.  Twice and the backside of the monster’s head was missing and it fell limp against him.  And Devon’s voice rang out from the walkie-talkie asking, “What’s going on!” 

With Darlene’s help he pushed the form into the backseat and they covered it with a blanket.  He looked at the empty gun in his hand.

Rafferty picked up the walkie-talkie and depressed the button, “Hold on a second,” he said and then let go of the button.

“Unless we figure something out this is it,” he said.

“I don’t want to figure anything out.  At least not right away,” Darlene said.

“Agreed,” Rafferty said.  He pressed the button and said, “Uh, everything is alright over here but we need some time to think.  Don’t do anything irrational.”

“Irrational?  I heard gunshots,” Devon said.

“There was a corpse in here but we took care of it,” Rafferty answered.  “Just give us a moment.”

The sun set, and Rafferty and Darlene were shoulder-to-shoulder holding hands again when the idea came to him.  They were on a slight embankment and if they put the car in neutral, or better yet if the car had a little bit of gas then they could roll down and to safety.  But he hadn’t seen what the area ahead of them was like or could reasonably think about how far they could get.  
In the long hours as they got hungry, knowing their car was only thirty feet behind them stocked with supplies Rafferty explained the plan to her repeatedly until it had to work.  And they fell asleep.

They had no dreams that night there was only darkness until they awoke in the slightly familiar car before the sun rose and it was slightly cold.  And there was a smell of decay and rot.  But there was quiet.  The dogs had stopped growling in the night and now they lay around the car as they had before like a Venus flytrap.

“We need to find they keys,” Rafferty said.

“If they are here,” Darlene responded.

“Check all the usual places,” Rafferty said.

And they were there, right there, behind the sun blocker. 

“Switch places with me,” Rafferty said.

Without a word about feminine power or ability Darlene switched seats.  And as they did he handed over the walkie-talkie to Darlene.

“Devon,” she said into the thing, “I want you to be patient with us.  We are going to try something.  If it works then we will get help and come back for you.  Okay?”

There was a long pause before Devon answered saying, “Okay.”
Rafferty readied himself.  He made sure the parking break was off, that he could shift to drive or neutral easily.  He placed the key in the ignition.

“Let’s hope I wasn’t efficient.” 

He started the car, shifted to drive, and pressed the pedal down slightly getting the feel of the car.  They started to move, accelerate, and the car felt it would die so he let up a little and the car shuttered once then he pressed down.  They reached 20 mph.

The dogs didn’t move.  And though he wouldn’t feel bad about hitting them he didn’t want to risk damaging the car so he turned to avoid them as best he could.  The front right went up, fell, then the rear right but not as high.  The left side did the same and he accelerated as he saw the downhill was steeper than he had previously thought. 

A black spot, a Doberman Pincher, rose in front of the car and he pressed down.  There was a thud and he nearly thought he heard the dog cry out before it fell under the front and slid underneath. 
The bottom of the hill was coming up quick and he readied himself for the turn.  Left seemed more reasonable than right because left seemed to go to town and where there was a town there was supplies.  He braced himself and began to turn the wheel then three-fourths through the turn he pressed down the gas and he felt the car choke before it sped up.  That was the end of the gas.

“We may have to run,” he said. “Are they chasing us?”

“I don’t see them,” Darlene said.

“Grab the gun and when I say run we run.  Get out on your side then cross over and take my hand.  We need to make it to a building.”

The car died.  And when the speedometer dropped below ten mph he decided they better run.  He stopped the car, shifted to park and said to run.

Darlene was quick out of her side and without closing the door she began to run.  Rafferty caught up with her and grabbed her hand.  They were on a main street through a town.  Neither of them recognized anything.  Then they saw the theater marquee and began to run for the front entrance.

“No,” Rafferty said, “the back way.”

They ducked down an alleyway running as fast as they could even though nothing seemed to be chasing them.  When they reached the exit doors Rafferty as quick to take a card from his wallet and fit it inside the crack between the door and the frame.  With a little jiggle the lock gave and he pulled the door only to find out that a chain that gave less than a foot to fit through held it.  Darlene was first. 

Rafferty ducked the chain and squeezed through though the door closed on him slightly and tore his shirt. 

There was only darkness and cool air.  They had both forgotten how dark a building with no windows could be. 

“We made it,” Rafferty said.

“Made it where?” Darlene asked.  “I mean don’t get me wrong it’s better than dogs but still.”

“I always come prepared,” Rafferty said pulling his cellular phone from his pocket the light blue illuminated his face and shoulder.  “Haven’t received a call in three months but it is still a very functional alarm clock, watch, flashlight, and distraction with all of its games.”

“Just make sure to close the door,” Darlene said.

*****

As strange as it was Rafferty’s first urge once they found relative safety was not food or water but the bathroom, which was easy enough to find in the lobby area.  Darlene followed him inside, as much for the light and company as she was used to doing everything together.

He handed her the cell phone then went to a stall where he closed the door to give himself some note of privacy before pulling his pants and underwear down to his ankles and sitting on the toilet.  Unlike many other people when he was stressed he did not vomit but rather had diarrhea.

He closed his eyes to further secure himself when he heard Darlene’s voice.

“Is this going to take long?”

He opened his eyes and looked down to under the stall door where her head peaked under with the glow of the cell.

“Not long,” he said.

“I’ll be outside then,” she said.

There were the brief sounds of paper towels and finally the door swinging shut.  He braced himself, felt the brief surge, and grimaced when he felt the splash back.

The lobby was peaceful.  Darlene moved to the glass counter, checked for snacks but there were none so she turned and began to shine her light around.  There was one vending machine for ‘alternative sodas’ but nothing else.  If there was anything then they would have to look for it.  She crossed her arms.  Scavenger hunts and treasure hunts were fun when she was a kid but they had to be practical.
She heard the stall door bang shut, the squeak of Rafferty’s sneakers, and then as he she thought he was crossing to the door she heard a thud, a yell, and the sound of Rafferty fall.  She let out an amused laugh and thought to help him before she heard the door open and shined the cell at him.  He emerged holding one hand to his head.

“I hate the darkness and I hate the fact that faucets don’t work anymore.  In door plumbing my ass.”

“That’s funny-“ Darlene laughed-“but maybe we can find you some hand-wipes.”
   
He crossed his arms over his chest placing his hands at his sides he rubbed them on his shirt.

“I’m hungry,” Rafferty said looking out the front window of the theater that was partially covered over with wood.

“And you smell too,” Darlene said.
   
“So do you,” Rafferty responded.
   
“So what are your thoughts?” Darlene asked.
   
“We need food and water.”
   
“But first we need weapons.  You can threaten a fool with your gun but animals don’t listen to threats.”
   
“Let’s find some,” Rafferty said.
   
Darlene was quick to look behind the counter as Rafferty looked around the area.
   
“I found keys to the counter and a lockbox.  Oh and I found the lock box!” Darlene called out.
   
“I found a janitor’s closet,” Rafferty said. 
   
He opened the door and shined the cell inside.
   
“Here we go.  Mops, brooms, and look at this, a flashlight,” Rafferty said.
   
“Sweet,” Darlene said.  “I’m going to hold onto the lock box for a while especially since it has a key.”
   
“Don’t worry about it.  We have nothing to secure and if we did they would just carry the box off and break it open later.”
   
“Oh,” Darlene said.  Then she pushed the box away.
   
“Now let’s get us some food,” Rafferty said.
   
Rafferty took the wooden broom handle and Darlene took the mop and the flashlight fit conveniently in his back pocket.
   
Rather than force their way out into the street Rafferty and Darlene went out the back door that they had come through.  They moved together up the alley to the street where they peered around the corner.  They were running on adrenaline and that couldn’t last long.
   
“Let’s take it easy,” Rafferty said.  “Back me up.”
   
Darlene took his left hand with her right as he moved around the corner and began to walk down the sidewalk in front of the theater.  At his back, she looked out into the street and behind them as often as she could.  They had done this many times before.  And they always looked like a primitive hunting party when they did.
   
“There’s a grocery store,” Rafferty said.
   
“Take us there.  I’m not seeing anything following us,” Darlene responded.
   
They moved to the grocery store easily but stopped ten feet from the doors when Rafferty saw the chains around the door handles and locks securing them in place.
   
“They’re locked,” Rafferty said.
   
“Let’s move onto something else,” Darlene said.
   
From there they moved to a gas station, a corner store, and a deli but all of which were secured in the same way with chains and locks.
   
“This looks too intentional,” Rafferty said.
   
“Very intentional,” Darlene said.  “Do you think its hold outs?”
   
“Has to be,” Rafferty said.
   
“Where do you think they are?” Darlene asked as she looked to the windows of buildings.
   
“They could be anywhere and there could be any number of them,” Rafferty said.
   
“So what do we do?”
   
“In a polite world we send them a signal and ask for help.  But we don’t live in a polite world.  So pick out which one you think would have food and we break into that one and apologize later.”
   
“The grocery store,” Darlene said. 
   
They made their way back and Rafferty raised his gun to break through the glass.
   
“Wait,” Darlene said, “Maybe there’s a back door.”
   
There was.  And there was no extra security or chains.  Rafferty worked the lock easily and they entered cautiously though clumsily.
   
Darlene was the first to stumble into a chair by the back door then Rafferty tripped over it and landed on his chest.
   
“I’m exhausted,” Darlene said.
   
“Let’s find some food,” Rafferty said.
   
The produce had been removed entirely.  There was no alcohol left.  And most of the shelves had been knocked over and much of the preserved food was gone.  But then they spotted a jar of pickles, a can of sardines, a can of cheese and eventually some crackers.  Each item was eaten in turn as they found it.
   
“I feel nauseous,” Darlene said.
   
“I feel nauseous too,” Rafferty said.
   
They moved to a secluded area to sit in the darkness.  They rested against each other.
   
“We should make one good search of the place.  Look for batteries and flashlights, and candles and matches,” Darlene said.

“I agree.  But first let’s sleep,” Rafferty replied.

To their surprise neither of them vomited.  Instead the food stayed down and even seemed to nourish them.  But they slept restlessly for six hours before they began to take turns searching through the spilled grocery items.  Within an hour they had a collection of food, batteries, candles, and utensils.
   
“What are we going to do with all of it?” Rafferty asked.
   
“Take it with us,” Darlene said
   
“Yeah, but how?”
   
“Shopping cart,” Darlene said.  “I saw one over there” –she pointed into the darkness- “now see if you find anything else, anything good.”
   
They looked for another hour before they piled everything into the cart and began to push it towards the back door. 
   
Darlene held the door open as Rafferty pushed the cart through and over the hump of metal jarring the contents and making them clank against each other.
   
“What time is it?” Rafferty asked.
   
“Ten in the morning,” Darlene said looking at the cell phone.  “So now that we have more food than God what do we do now?”
   
Rafferty squinted at her, his eyes not yet adjusted to the light.
   
“We try to get our car back,” he said.
   
“How do we do that?” she asked.
   
“I don’t really know,” he answered.

Thirty minutes later they pushed the cart up the on ramp of the highway.  A plan had formulated in Rafferty’s head and he wanted to share it.

“You remember how I used to be a track star?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darlene said.

“Well I have a plan.  I’m going to get their attention then lure them away while you get the gas can, load the car, and come rescue--”
   
“What are you some type of martyr?  That’s a stupid plan,” Darlene said.
   
“You have a better one?”
   
“You could… nope, not really,” Darlene said.
  
“Okay then,” he replied.

*****   

They pushed the cart onto the highway and suddenly realized a flaw in their impromptu plan, a median divider that ran for at least a mile in both directions and on the other side there was the car and the dogs.
   
“This sucks,” Darlene said.
   
“We’ll get the food afterwards.  We can run over the dogs or something.”
   
“Run over the dogs?”
   
“They’re zombie dogs Darlene,” he said.
   
“Yeah, it just sounds so inhumane.  Maybe next time you could say, ‘run over the zombie dogs.’”
   
Rafferty laughed a little then said, “I will.”
   
“Push the cart down there next to median,” Rafferty said beginning to walk away.  “Then hide and I will cross over and get their attention.”
   
“With what?”
   
“I don’t know,” he said.
   
Darlene spotted a box of jerky in the cart, grabbed it and held it up for him.
   
“Use these,” she said.
   
He crossed back to her and took the box and as he did their fingers touched a little.  He looked at her chest first then up to her eyes. 

“Wait, I can’t let you do this,” she said.
   
“Then what are we going to do?”

“What if… what if you ran somewhere… or if you climbed something,” she said.
   
Rafferty looked around.  There were plenty of things to climb but the trick would something from which he could escape, something close to the road where Darlene could pull the car under him and he could drop to it.
   
“That,” Rafferty said pointing to a power line.
   
“We need a better plan,” she said. 
   
“Like what?”
   
“A better distraction,” she said.  “Something they really can eat.”
   
They both looked down to the cart of food as the same idea occurred to them.
   
“But we have to save some of the food for ourselves,” Rafferty said.
   
“Why?”
   
“Because the other food may have spoiled,” Rafferty answered.  Then he realized the practical, rhetorical sense of what he was going to say next, “Because we have it now and we don’t know if we will find more down the road.”
   
Surprisingly she didn’t say anything.  Instead she began to unbutton her flannel shirt.
   
“Give me yours too,” she said.
   
Rafferty pulled his shirt from his back and handed it over to Darlene who laid them out beside each other on the asphalt.  He realized she was making two sacks of food and promptly moved to the cart to pick out food.  It wasn’t difficult to pick out the things to take from the things that would be tempting to the dogs. 
   
Once they had a collection Darlene tied the shirts into the sacks Rafferty had imagined, they were lumpy but effective.  Rafferty began to open the other food that had been left in the cart: cans of sausages, tuna, the jerky, he spilled it in the cart until he had opened nearly all of them.
   
“There,” he said.
   
He looked to the dogs then.  They still hadn’t moved. 
   
“Take these,” he said producing the keys then with a quick motion he tucked them in her front right pocket.

“We still need to get their attention,” Rafferty said and turned to Darlene who held a bag in each hand.  “Go north-” he pointed- “then circle around.  I will watch for you before I do anything.”
Rafferty pulled the walkie-talkie from his back pocket and turned it on then held it to his mouth.

“Come in Devon,” he said.  “Anyone there?”

There was a long moment then a response, “I’m here.”

“We are coming to rescue you,” Rafferty said.  “Unlock the front doors and wait for us.  Darlene will be coming to the car first.  Understood?”

“I understand,” Devon replied.  “Did you find help?”

“Not exactly,” Rafferty answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Just do what I ask,” Rafferty said.
   
Darlene nodded.  She turned away and started north along the highway until she reached a spot where she climbed over the meridian and crossed to the other side of the highway.  There was something logical to Rafferty’s plan and somehow he had seemed to feel that she was in the easier position because he would distract the dogs but she still frightened because as she moved along the burm watching for the dogs she worried that not all of them would fall for the bait.
   
Darlene looked back to Rafferty who pushed the cart south a little then positioned it at an angle to the divider.  He reached into the cart and began to sling handfuls of food onto the highway, progressively closer to the dogs yet careful not to disturb them. 

When he looked satisfied he moved off with a collection of items that he began to lob like grenades at the dogs.  The first time he hit a dog it didn’t move but then upon subsequent hits they began to rise from the ground and inspect the food and each other.  Rafferty began to sink behind the divider until he was only peaking out at intervals.  They circled each other and even began to follow the bait.  A half dozen of them started to moved to the divider when Rafferty launched the last food grenade and the dogs seemed to see it as they watched it sail towards where they had been and hit the ground.  Then for a long moment they stared at the area from where it had come before they turned their attention back to the food.

Darlene began to move closer along the side of the road until the car was only feet away of the passenger side.  She looked carefully for any of the dogs before she ran to the car and opened the door.  She threw in the makeshift bags and looked to where the gas can was.  She ducked behind the car and moved to its front where she peaked to see the status of the dogs.  Some of them were climbing over the divider but were having a difficult time as their muscles were rotted.  She realized then that the dogs were indeed falling apart and she could see flies circling their bodies in clouds of black spots.  Perhaps Rafferty could have outrun them?

She looked to the gas can.  No activity.  Still crouching she crossed to it and started back towards the car where she climbed inside, setting the gas canister in the foot well of the passenger seat she moved to the driver’s seat and started the car.  The dogs were easy to see now and they all turned towards the car.  Even the ones on the other side of the divider began to try and look over.
She shifted to Drive and made a quick turn and began to head south at nearly fifteen miles per hour.  She didn’t see Rafferty and she glanced in the side mirror to see the dogs begin to follow the car.  They were slow but determined.

In a panic she honked the horn several times as she eyed the divider and the side of the road.  It wasn’t until he pushed up from the asphalt highway that she realized he had been laying in the middle the entire time.  She braked hard and stopped five feet from him.  He was quick to run to the passenger side and open the door and climb in as she turned the car around and began to drive north. 
The dogs were there.  And for just a moment she thought to try to avoid them before she realized what they were, they were zombie dogs.  She sped up and aimed for the smallest.  There was a surprisingly solid thud before the dog went under the car and scraped against the underside and then was gone.

Rafferty pulled the canister from in front of the passenger seat and swung it back towards the backseat where Devon took it.

“Hi Devon,” Rafferty said.

“Hi Rafferty,” Devon replied cordially.

Rafferty turned his attention to Darlene whose knuckles were turning white around the steering wheel.

“You didn’t fill it up?” Rafferty asked.

“We can do that later,” Darlene said.

“When?”
   
Darlene looked to him for a long moment before she said, “Down the road.”

At The Grave (Teen Wolf: FanFiction)

“I wish you drank, then I could blame it on the booze.  I wish you were crazy, like some kind of mental disorder, then I could blame it on that.  But you weren’t.  You were just mean.  You were just a sadist.  And you scarred me for life,” Isaac said to his father’s tombstone.

Several feet away Stiles stood on the path between grave sites watching his friend speak to the dead.  It was after midnight and they were in a cemetery.  It made him uncomfortable, not just because they were breaking the law or it was at night but because he had seen mystical, supernatural things over the years that gave him reason to be afraid, cautious about where they were and what they were doing.  He would have felt safer if Derek was there with them but he was out on a case.

Isaac shifted on his feet.  They had both been drinking but Isaac was clearly more drunk.  Stiles wanted to move to his friend, pat him on the back, and pull him away.  He saw Isaac take a deep breath to hold up his shoulders.  He heard Isaac unzip his fly, for a moment he thought to yell at him but he stopped himself and instead turned away.  He looked to the flowers by a stranger’s headstone.  He heard the urine hit the ground, splatter among the leaves and blades of grass.  He sighed.  He was a witness to the desecration of holy ground, a man’s grave, and yet he knew that man, Isaac’s father did not deserve any respect.  He did not deserve to be buried here. 

Maybe the body is here but there was a good chance his soul was in Hell, Stiles told himself.  When the sound stopped and he heard Isaac zip back up he looked to his friend who spat on the ground as further insult before making his way to back to where Stiles waited.  Isaac reached out, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for bringing me here, and thank you for getting me out of that place.  It was beginning to feel like one big freezer.”

Stiles held his breath after that last word because he knew it had meaning, dark, abusive meaning.  Isaac closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Stiles who was unprepared for the embrace.  He knew to expect strength but he was unprepared as to just how much would be used.  He grunted to let Isaac know it was too much when he felt Isaac rest his face in his shoulder and begin to cry.  Stiles reached around and began to rub at his back.

“I’m so sorry,” Isaac said.  “Why do I do this?”

“Everything is fine,” Stiles said.  “You know you always have a place with us.  We’ll take care of you.”

Isaac pulled back from his shoulder and looked him in the eye, a faint gleam of yellow there that still made Stiles uncomfortable, especially in a cemetery and so close to the source of pain.  They smiled at each other.

“You must have something you should be doing,” Isaac said.

“No, I’m here for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the guys are out tracking someone down and we don’t have any other cases at the moment.  We’ve been doing some bounty hunting to keep up the income.  It’s expensive having your own private detective agency with five mouths to feed.”

“Six,” Isaac said.

“Six,” Stiles replied.

“Let’s get out of here.  This place gives me the creeps.”

Stiles turned and wrapped his right arm around Isaac’s back.  Isaac laid his arm over Stiles’ shoulder.

Suck'er

"Hello folks, hello, my name is Peter Vanderbilt, no relation.  As you can see I have no money.  But seriously folks before I tell some jokes there is something I have to say.  Yes, I am a vampire.” 

Several people in the crowd booed. 

“It’s okay I’m used to it but the only ‘stakes’ I want to see tonight are your meals.  That’s right get it ‘steaks’ instead of ‘stakes’.  No?  You guys are too much.

“So what’s the deal with blood?  Is it just a vampire thing?  God, why does it have to be so delicious?  Hey, hey I know what you’re thinking but there are people out there right now who are eating their steak medium rare, or worse rare.  It’s usually a guy thing, women don’t usually go for it, not in my experience.  Of course I don’t really understand women.  That’s my second confession for you tonight, I’m gay.

“There I said it, I’m a gay vampire.  Not as popular as you might think.  Really, it’s not the new thing.  It does make hickies more interesting though.  I’m just kidding.  But no seriously.  It’s weird being a gay vampire because people are usually like I thought vampires seemed kind of gay, or at least bisexual.  There’s Anne Rice’s books which were kind of homoerotic and the Dracula films.  Anyone see the early Dracula films?”

“You suck!” someone shouted from the back of the room.

“Do I ever.  Your cock and your neck.  What do you say bog boy?  Want to try me?”  There was silence.  “But anyway, back to my story.  Dracula, people think he’s kind of gay because of the way he dressed.  People think he was dainty, a poof, a dandy, but hey that’s just the way guys dressed back then.  I mean really it was more about being rich.  Of course you had to question why if he was so old did he have modern period clothes, but still, it was a thing.  How gay could he have been?  I mean the guy kept three vampire bitches in his castle.  Did you see them in those white outfits they had on?  Maybe that was a different movie, but still, he was all about the ladies. 

“Not me man, I’m all about the dudes.  Of course it makes it difficult to go check out guys at the beach because of all the sunlight.  I’d need some serious sun block.  It really gets to you sometimes, well it gets to me.  Up all night, sleep all day, it makes it difficult to get normal business done.
“Not like I have a lot of normal business to do.  I mean I feed off human blood.  All of you right now look like giant sacks of blood to me.”

Most of the crowd booed, but there were a few laughs, a few coughs.  Peter looked around at his audience to gauge whether he should walk off stage or begin to run, whether someone was going to charge him right there, but aside from the looks there didn’t appear to be a possible violent reaction except from the bar manager who stood off to the side with a bouncer.  Peter was unsure if the man was going to come get him or the bouncer was there to escort him out.

“In closing, I just want to say I’m mostly like you.  Mostly, because a lot of people question if a vampire has a soul, but I have to say I’m not too worried about a soul.  I’m more worried about life, whatever this is, I’m living.  I walk.  I talk.  Okay, I don’t breathe but still if you prick me do I not bleed.  Okay, granted someone else’s blood but still...

“People shouldn’t worry about a soul.  Yes, some vampires in the past have done really horrible things but we’re mostly not like that anymore.  I mean humans have done some very bad things.  Humans still do bad things.  They’re called CEO’s.  Of course if I was rich, if I had that kind of power and influence you wouldn’t call me a vampire.  You’d call me boss.”

The crowd continued to boo, the manger shifted on his feet, and the bouncer moved a little only to be stopped by the manager’s hand.  Peter looked to the other side of the stage where another bouncer was in place.  It could be worse he thought, it could be the crowd ready to lynch him.  He put the microphone back on the stand and waved to the audience before making his way to where the manager stood.  The man was rotund and unmoving.  Peter stepped to his belly and looked down into the man’s eyes.  He thought to give a flash of his teeth, maybe a flash of his red eyes, but the man only grunted and motioned for him to leave.

Peter stepped around him, between him and the bouncer who moved to let him pass, and continued to the side exit where he pushed open the door.  The door led to a narrow, dark alley that was littered with broken bottles, used condoms, and other trash.  He looked back to the bar, waited for a moment to see if someone would follow him out until he was confident no one was coming, then he walked away.

The Creek Water Movie Theater (dream - horror)

The Creek Water movie theater on Main Street between the state liquor store and the sheriff’s department, Matt and Trey stood behind the counter reading their text messages.  Matt had one from his girlfriend saying that she was watching American Idol and that he was missing out.  Trey’s message was from his friend Brian saying that he had acquired ‘the movie for the night’.  Trey proudly showed the message to Matt who nodded with a grin.

Everything was working as they had planned.  They made themselves busy as they always did, cleaning and organizing.  Mr. Waters, the ticket seller and owner closed down the booth below the marquee and walked to the concession stand where Matt already had the register open.   He stuck the second tray atop the first and carried both to the back room and closed the door.  

Inside he relit a cigar that he had left in the ashtray on his desk and poured himself a shot which he downed in one gulp.  He counted out the cash then counted it a second time before writing in his ledger.  He counted out the same number of small bills he always kept in the cash registers and stuck those inside a locked drawer of his desk then stuck the rest in an envelope that he put in the breast pocket of his sports coat.  

He stroked at his white beard as he puffed on his cigar and stared at the few pictures of classic women thumb tacked to his bulletin board before standing with a grunt and making his way back out of the room.  He locked the office door, thanked the boys for their hard work, and ambled out of the front entrance of the theater.  He stopped on the sidewalk for a few puffs, Trey felt as if he was almost looking back at them, as if he knew something, but then he continued on his way.

“Do you think he knows?” Trey asked.

“Dude, how would he know unless you told him?” Matt said.

“I just feel bad for the guy--”

“--he’s like always three sheets to the wind.  He doesn’t care about anything.  He smokes cigars and he drinks whiskey like a fish.  What do you think he spends the night’s take on?  Dude, if I live to be that old I would be just like him and I wouldn’t care what a bunch of kids wanted to do in my theater after the main show.”

“Then don’t you think we should’ve told him?”

“No way, deniability man, it’s all about deniability.  Sure like thirty years ago things would be a lot different but the way they have things these days it’s all about getting away with it.”

“I don’t know,” Trey said.  

“Dude we did it,” Matt replied.  “I’m going to take some popcorn up to Dan then as soon as these yokels clear out we can get on with the show.  Deep Throat like it was meant to be seen, oh yeah baby.”  Matt began to pump his hips and swing his hand as if he were spanking an ass.

Trey pulled a stool up to the counter and pulled his phone from his pocket again to check for messages but there weren’t any so he sat in indifference as Matt did exactly what he said he would do.  

They weren’t doing anything wrong, he thought, at least not really wrong.  They weren’t stealing.  And it was all about deniability these days and yeah things were different before.  Mr. Waters himself told stories about the hell he raised as a kid and how he felt lucky to retire as the owner of the only theater in town.  

Maybe he would be proud of them in some way but maybe he was the least to worry about.  Their parents, his parents, would be the worst of it with long speeches about ruining their lives and permanent records but if he learned anything from TMZ it was that people get second chances and they have a thing called recovery.  

His head sunk down in his hand so that he was almost holding it up by his hair when the main door opened and Brian stepped into the lobby, a cardboard box under his arm.  He walked the twelve steps with a cocky stride then set the box down on the counter.   

“How’s it going?  Uh, give me a box of those Snow Caps,” Brian said.

“Can’t, we’re closed for the night.  You just missed the boss.  And you’re early.  You shouldn’t have brought that in here.”  He sat up and tucked the phone in his pocket.

“Dude relax, I know, Matt texted me about it.”

“Oh,” Trey said.

“No one will notice.”

“Can’t,” Trey replied.  “But you can have all the extra popcorn and fountain drinks that you want.”

“Okay, it’s cool, no need to get all self-righteous on me.  Hey, I’m going to run this up to the booth.”

Brian sprinted away and Trey laid himself out on the counter atop his own arms.  This was the worst part of it, knowing all the possibilities, having all the uncertainties, being the only responsible person.  He closed his eyes for a second when the door the theater opened and out stepped a young woman who held the door for her mother who used a walker.  She moved in front of the display and began to eye the confections.

“I’m sorry but we’re sort of closed,” Trey said.

“Fine,” the younger woman said before she walked away.

The older woman looked up to him.  She had a wrinkled but pleasant face, white hair in a bun and a purse on her arm.  

“Come on kid, I could die tomorrow.”

“Well.”  He looked around the lobby then back to her.  “As long as you have exact change I can give it to the owner tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll have the Snow Caps,” she said.  

He pulled them from under the glass and set them atop the counter as she finagled her purse open and got to her change purse.

“That’ll be four bucks,” he said.

“Even with the senior discount?”

“Oh, well,” he tried to remember what it was.  “Three fifty then?”

“How about three bucks?”

“Huh, look I’m not running a--”

“No, it says right there three dollars,” she pointed to the display.

“Oh yeah,” he said.

She began to count out one dollar bills when Brian emerged from the booth door with a hop and ran behind the counter.  “Dude you’re letting her buy something but you won’t let me?”  He poured popcorn into a bag then jogged around to the door of the theater.  Trey scowled at him then asked him where he was headed.

“Dude it’s Humphrey Bogart in the Maltese Falcon, the only other time I saw it was a pirated version a couple of years ago.”  He opened and closed the door before Trey could respond and it didn’t matter because the woman slid her money to him then stuck the candy in her purse.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

He waited until she was gone before he stuck the cash in his wallet where he would remember to give it to Mr. Waters, behind a coupon for a free second burger with the purchase of a meal, because the cash register was stuck open and there was no place else to hide the money.

************

After their showing of Deep Throat, and after cleaning up their paper bags of popcorn and cups, they stood around the concession stand for a time talking about pornography; the largest breasts, the best action, the highest quality and the most disgusting.  Finally after having talked about nearly everything pornographic they decided to head out.  Trey went to the front doors one last time to make sure the lock was secure and chain as tight as possible before following Dan, Matt, and Brian out the back where he locked the door behind them.  

“That was a lot of fun guys,” Brian said with the film tucked under his arm as he was headed down the opposite way.

“See you later,” the three echoed before picking up a conversation about 70’s rock music.  They headed out to Main Street where within a few blocks Dan signaled that he was headed a different direction so they stopped under a street light.  Trey suddenly remembered the curfew and he looked up and down the street for a cop car before looking at his watch.  

Matt was always after him for worrying so he didn’t want to say anything but he also didn’t want to add to the conversation so he crossed his arms and stepped back.  Matt talked and talked even when Dan signaled he wanted to leave to spite Trey.  Then after the third time Dan said he had to go Matt gave him a fist bump before saying that he would see him later then turned to walk with Trey.

“You’re an ass,” Trey said.

“I try,” Matt said.

“I know you do.”

They crossed Main Street and headed down Hickory occasionally turning on exterior house lights as they passed, the familiar sidewalks of cement broken by tree roots.  

“I think we should do this every night we can.  I mean we couldn’t get a print for everything but maybe we could figure out a way to project other stuff.  We could watch Star Wars and Ghostbusters, and Silence of the Lambs, all the classic movies.  Hell we could charge kids from school to come.  It would be a great way to make money.”

“Especially since we would be doing it illegally,” Trey said.

“Hey, it’s called free market capitalism.”

“No, I think it’s still called stealing.”

“Whatever, I’m not serious but we would make more money than old Mr. Waters.  He’s a has been, probably lost it all on some woman in a divorce so now he spends his money on cheap liquor while he pays us minimum wage or under the table.”

“Who’s he paying under the table?”

“Not saying.”

“He’s paying you?”

“It could be.” 

“Who else would it be?  No one would tell you that.”

“It’s less than you guys make an hour but it pays out in the end because I don’t have to do taxes.  My brother helped me figure it out.”

“That sucks, I’m stuck paying taxes on that bullshit job.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all bullshit anyway.  Don’t worry you still make more than I do.”

“Really?  I guess, that doesn’t suck too much then.” 

They had made it to Matt’s place so they stopped.  

“Come over tomorrow and we’ll see if we can kill lots of zombies on the ol’ Xbox.”

“Yeah sure,” Trey said.

Matt opened the gate to his yard then made his way to the front door where he greeted his pet dog Spike and pushed his way inside before closing the door.  Trey turned on the site and pulled his hoodie up over the back of his head before zipping it closed and continuing on his way.  

Suddenly there was a strange quietness about the night.  There were no crickets, no cars, no dogs, no birds, not even the hoot of an owl.  Just darkness.

But it was a familiar walk, he told himself.  And next year when he had the money he would have his own car to drive, something used.  He would take it to college with him.  

As well as he knew the walk though he kept tripping on the sidewalk so he decided to walk out in the street.  He could hear, any car miles away... there, a sound behind him, the snap of a twig.  He looked back but he could barely make out anything, just the flat sides and corners of houses, the shapes of trees, and the night sky with a thousand pinholes of light.  A tree top shook violently.  Scratching to the right on the rooftop. 

There was something out there.  No that didn’t make sense.  There were no monsters, probably just birds, but it didn’t matter.  No one had to know.  He wasn’t going to run out of fear just that it would be quicker.  He turned and began to dash for his house along the tree lined street.  His feet slapped at the road, he pumped his legs as hard as he could, his hood fell down to his back.  It wasn’t far.

It wasn’t far.  That was when he felt it on his back a punch between his shoulder blades then the street rushing at his face.  Oh no, he thought, I hate tripping and falling down.  He put out his hands and it all rushed up through his body before his chest hit with more force than he ever thought possible and all the air was gone.  Darkness.

******************************

There was a slow rhythmic beeping.  He felt cool and smooth.  His head to the side, drool on his shoulder.  He made out the corner of the room then the wall and finally he realized he was in a hospital room.  He thought to wipe the drool away but his hand was stuck, both of them were tied to the metal bars on the side of the bed.  

Wires ran from him to machines by his bedside.  He looked up to see the tiled ceiling.  No one came running.  Nothing seemed to alert anyone.

“Help me,” he said.  But it was to himself.  “Help me!  Help me!”

A nurse ran into his room and stopped at the foot of his bed.

“You’re awake,” the nurse said.

“Yes I’m awake.  Now untie me.”

The nurse set to working on the strap of his left hand but it wasn’t fast enough.  

“Don’t go pulling on any of the wires or anything.  You’ve got a catheter so just let it go.”

“A what?”

And as he writhed with his legs he finally felt it, a plastic tube running from the tip of his penis down between his legs.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a catheter just let yourself go and don’t try to pull it out.”

“Shit,” Trey said putting his head back and trusting the nurse.  He wrinkled his brow in the act and he felt a something was covering his forehead, something that was taped there just under his bangs.

“There, feel better?”

“Yeah, sort of.  How long have I been out?”

“Four days,” the nurse said.  “They found you in the street.”

“How did I get here?”

“Some neighbors brought you in.  You got really lucky no one ran you over.”

With the straps gone Trey looked down to his forearms and for the first time he saw where the strap had been a bandage on his forearm about three inches long and two inches wide.

“What happened to me?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No,” he said.

“Oh boy,” the nurse replied.  “Well let me unstrap your feet then we can do something about the catheter.”

“Do you know what happened to me?”

“Not really, just when you came in they thought you were attacked by an animal or something.  Your clothes were ripped and you had these strange scars.”

“Scars?”

“Yeah, one on your arm there and one on your head.”

“Would you get me a mirror?  I want to see it.”

“Not right now.  It’s covered to keep it clean.  It was much worse than your arm there.”

Trey looked down at the patch on his arm.  How could it be worse?  The nurse lifted up his gown and he felt the tube pull tight against his body.  She collapsed the bulb that helped hold it inside his body.

“On the count of three,” the nurse said.

“One, two, ah!”

“Three,” the nurse said with a firm jerk.

“What the hell?” Trey said reaching down to cover his crotch.

“It’s over,” the nurse said.

“Oh god, I am going to be sick.”

The nurse reached for a pan but he pushed it away and tried to make his way around the metal railing when he felt the sickness swell up in him so that he began to vomit right there.  

A thick grey liquid projected from his mouth and out onto the floor, down over his gown and onto the edge of the bed.  He felt woozy but he kept pushing so that he was out of bed and even though he avoided the largest part of the liquid he still stepped in some of it.

“Careful,” the nurse said.

He turned away and began to walk to the bathroom.  “I’m fine he said.”  His legs felt rubbery.  He grabbed hold of the sink and bent over it but nothing came out.  Nothing came out.

Two hours later he sat in his hospital bed staring into a hand mirror studying the patch over his forehead while his parents sat in the nearby chairs as they watched Jeopardy.  The room smelled freshly antiseptic.  They talked about little things.  No one said what they were thinking.

Another half hour and they were gone.  He stared at the bandage again, began to pick at the tape until it unfolded from his forehead.  He pulled it away to reveal an open wound oval in shape but rough around the edges.  He could see bone, at least what he thought was bone, but it was marked somehow.  Small rectangular shapes, almost carved into his skull, no definitely carved into his skull, but they looked like something.  

They looked like teeth.  They were teeth.  It was a mouth.  And then there was a sound, a sound like grunting and he looked out into the hallway, to the bathroom but no one was there.  He heard it again but that time he felt something, the sound was louder and his forearm hurt.  His forearm.  He looked to it.  The patch.  He pulled it off to reveal stitches that held together skin and he saw it twitch, the skin twitched and there was the sound again.

No wait, he thought, this isn’t real.

“Hey,” a voice sounded from him, from his forehead.

“Wait, no wait,” he said.  He held the mirror up to see the teeth.  It was like a loose grin in the reflection.  His forearm sounded again and it hurt more.  “No wait, really it hurts.”  He looked to the scar to see blood had begun to run from the stitches.

“Just wait,” he said.  “The stitches have to be taken out.”

“Wait for what?” his forehead said.  “You have to help my friend he needs to speak.”

More noise from his arm and it hurt more.  I have to do something, he thought, so he pushed himself from his bed and limped out to the hallway.  He spotted the nurse’s station and began to make his way to it.  He was surprised to find it empty.  

Then he saw the scissors behind the counter and he grabbed them, clutching them in his hand he began to walk back to his room, ready to hide the scissors at a moments notice.

He made it back to his room and closed the door.  He opened the scissors and began to cut at the stitches.  The wound opened like a pair of lips, toothless lips.  

“I can breath,” they said.

“Breath?  You can’t breath,” his forehead said.

“What the hell?  I don’t understand.”

“Stay out of this,” his forehead replied.  

“Yeah, stay out of this,” the toothless lips added.

It was as if together they made a complete mouth, a complete second mouth, but they didn’t really.  And they began to talk, talk to each other as if Trey didn’t exist.  Trey made his way to his bed where he flopped onto his back into the inclined position.  He felt weak and he didn’t know what they talked about anymore because they weren’t talking to him.  

It was as if they spoke a foreign tongue, white noise.  Did the teeth in his head move like the lips in his arm?  Were these scars or something else?  He stared ahead at the archway to the bathroom not wanting to find out by looking in the mirror but too afraid if he closed his eyes that he would fall back asleep.  

They kept talking.