D.O.A. Extreme Horror Anthology (29 page)

“Jules,” whispered Mike, creeping toward the door. “Yo, Jules.”

That familiar smell got stronger as he grew nearer. He pulled out his gun and used it to push open the door. The sound of loud buzzing erupted, thousands of flies covering the walls. He backed away as he saw the scene in front of him, pointing his gun toward the horror.

Julius hung from the ceiling, large metal hooks holding him there by his wrists and ankles. His stomach ripped open, entrails hung down like party decorations. Twin boys, naked and filthy, danced underneath him, circling playfully with their arms interlocked. They giggled as the blood rained down on them, the purple intestines slapping them in the face.

“Oh, Jesus!” Mike screamed. He couldn’t peel himself away from the room. The boys stopped their twirling to look at their new visitor.

“We got another one, Lucas.”

“It’s my turn this time, Edgar.”

The boy knelt down and picked up a bloody butcher knife.The boys held hands as they approached Mike.

“Y’all stay the fuck back! I swear to God, I’ll fucking shoot.”

“You hear that, Lucas? He said a swear.”

“Did you hear him use the lord’s name in vain, Edgar?”

“I think we got a devil in our room, Lucas.”

“Maybe we can cut the evil out of him, Edgar.” The boy swiped the air with his knife.

“This is your last chance, one more step and its over!”

They laughed at Mike’s threat, looking at each other with delight.

Mike pulled the trigger, sending Lucas flying backward. Blood sprayed the wall behind him. The boy fell motionless to the floor.

“What have you done to my brother?”

“I warned you!”

The boy jumped up and ran at Mike with scrawny legs. Mike fired again, hitting the wall on the opposite side of the room. The bullet cut through the curtain of entrails, dark fluid exploding and splashing to the floor.

The boy jumped and latched onto Mike, biting down on his arm. Mike thrashed and slammed the boy into a wall. Edgar fell to the ground, blood running from his lips. He stared up at Mike with an animal-like ferocity in his eyes.

Mike fired, obliterating Edgar’s head and decorating the room.

Blood pumped from Mike’s wounded arm at a dangerous speed. He ripped off a large piece of cloth from his shirt and tied it around the wound.

He glanced up at Julius, the taste of stomach acid at the back of his throat. He never cared for him much, but nobody deserved to go like that.

Mike walked back out to the hallway. He shut the door and turned around. A scream escaped his throat and he redrew his gun. Children surrounded him. Their soiled, skinny bodies closed in on him. Some of the children stared at him wide eyed, their lips trembling. Others growled and bared their teeth at him.

A girl, maybe thirteen years old, stood naked in front of him. Some of the smaller children hid behind her, looking up at Mike. Long needles protruded from the girl’s grasp.

“All of y’all better not move.” Mike kept his gun aimed at the girl. “I don’t wanna hurt you!”

“You will never leave here,” the girl said. “Nobody leaves this place.”

“Get the fuck back!”

“Our father will punish you for what you did.”

The other children gained courage from her words, and started to follow her toward Mike.

“Father will punish you,” they chanted, taking the lead from the needle wielding girl.

Mike fired his weapon as panic took over his thoughts. The teenage girl flew backward onto the floor, her needles bouncing on the hardwood. A pool of blood formed around her still body.

The children screamed and ran as fast as they could to their bedrooms, doors slamming in unison.

“Mike!”

Mike jumped at the sound of his name, firing another shot into the ceiling. The voice came from downstairs.

“Mike!”

“Chauncey?” yelled Mike into the dark stairwell, “that you man?”

“Course it is, let’s get out of here!”

Mike looked back at the dead girl in the hall. A feeling of pity for the children lay heavy on his heart. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but they killed Julius. He wanted to leave and never think about this place again.

He ran down the stairs two at a time, the contents in his backpack rattling behind him. Chauncey stood at the foot of the stairwell, staring up at Mike.

“Did you find anything worthwhile?”

“Let’s just get the fuck out of this place! They got Julius!”

“We can’t leave I’m afraid.”

 “You alright, man?” Mike asked, looking at Chauncey up and down.

“Never better.” Chauncey smiled at Mike as his hands grabbed hold of his upper and lower lips. He pulled them in opposite directions, ripping the dark flesh apart.

Mike stared at Old Man McCook, blood dripping from his face. He smiled at Mike, bits of Chauncey still clinging to him.

“I’m so glad you came, my boy. I have a nice room ready for you.”

Mike aimed his pistol. McCook just smiled at him, playing along with the charade.

“You stay where you are motherfucker.”

A body sat in the leather chair, a gold tooth shining from the skinless face.

“Please don’t shoot.” The old man chuckled.

Mike ran to the front door and jiggled the knob. He pointed his gun and shot at it, but it still wouldn’t budge.

“You let me the fuck outta here!” Mike’s voice cracked as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“You killed my children. I’m going to need a replacement. You should do just fine, I think.”

“Don’t come any closer, God damn it! I’ll kill you too!”

“You took my Ruthie away from me. My sweet, darling Ruthie.”

A loud bang echoed through the home as Mike pulled the trigger. The old man stumbled backward, but never took his eyes off Mike. A buzzing emitted from the hole in his chest and a swarm of flies escaped his body. He smiled.

“I am growing tired of this game, son.”

Mike fired again, and again. He ran by the fly-infested man, shoving him as he passed.

“That’s a boy. Go to your room!”

Mike hesitated at the top of the stairwell.

Where the hell could he go?

A pale, white face with pink cheeks poked out of a door. She beckoned to Mike, her grimy hand waving him in. The Doll Girl. He ran into the room, slamming the door behind them.

She hugged him, jumping up and down with excitement. She grabbed Mike’s hand, leading him toward her bed.

“Is there a way outta here?” Mike asked. The windows in the bedroom had the same metal bars.

The girl jumped up and down on her bed, paying no attention to the question. Mike pulled out his bag, and dumped the contents onto the sheets.

“Here, see, I told you I would give them back.” He picked up the brush and handed it to the living doll.

She grabbed it with excitement, ran to her vanity mirror, and started brushing her hair. The sound of buzzing grew nearer.

“Please help me!” He jumped up from the bed and shook her by her bony shoulders.

She pushed him away, running to her bed and crawling beneath it. Mike could hear her sobbing, and walked over to the bed to sit. Flies zoomed around the room, coming in through the crack at the bottom of the bedroom door.

“I’m sorry I got upset. I just need to go home. Please show me how to get outta here.”

Something wrapped around his ankles, a metallic clinging sound coming from under the bed. Panic filled his thoughts as he realized what had happened. Metal clamps locked around his ankles, a thick chain ran under the bed. He pulled on the chain, sweat running down his face. The chain wouldn’t budge. Red blotches stained his socks as he struggled to get free.

The door swung open and crashed against the wall. The sound of countless flies erupted into the room, along with a low laughter.

“Good girl,” McCook said, “who’s my little sweet pea?”

The little doll girl ran to him, and hugged him.

“We have a new friend, don’t we sweetie?”

She nodded, and ran back to her bed to jump up and down. Old Man McCook walked toward Mike, his arms outstretched as if in welcome.

“Please lemme go, I won’t tell nobody about none of this,” Mike said. His lip trembled as he spoke.

“Now now, just relax.” He knelt down to Mike’s level. “I think you’re going to learn to love it here, my son.”

As the man knelt down, flies swarmed all around him, walking up and down his face.

Mike pressed his gun to the man’s head, and fired. Blood and flies splattered onto the ground. The old man stumbled backward, shaking his head.

“Have we not learned our lesson yet?”

Mike wrapped his lips around the barrel, squinting his eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He pulled the trigger again, and again. Nothing.

He looked up at the old man, the little girl still jumping on her bed next to him. Old Man McCook held out his hand to Mike, a twisted smile on his face.

“Let’s get you to your room.”

NREM SLEEP

A. R. Braun

“Is the real nightmare sleeping or waking?”

-- Bong Otto, a burned-out philosopher.

Wednesday

Adriana lay in bed, afraid of falling asleep, of having that dream again where she’s in the nursery at church, about to…

She sat in the nursery, a couple of little girls sitting on her big-boned lap. It was the evening service and the full moon shone through the small, rectangular window. The smell of baby powder and piss invaded her nostrils. The children screamed. Waverly, the chunky, red-haired girl on her lap, cried while gulping down tears; Willow, a wisp of a girl with black hair bobbed up and down as she struggled to waddle away; and a blonde, slim boy named Huey threw toys to-and-fro.

The feeling of overwhelming responsibility consumed her. Adriana hefted Waverly up and walked over to check on Joey, the sleeping baby in the crib.

He lay on his chest, face in the covers.

Oh God, turn him over
!
Don’t let him die of crib death
!

She tried to set Waverly down so she could turn Joey over, but the former shrieked and thrashed like never before. 

Fury mixed with fear came upon her as she turned Baby Joey around—blue-faced, chest not heaving, dead . . . of SIDS.

“No!” Adriana shrieked. “Oh God, it’s my fault, please, no!”

Waverly bit down on her leg hard enough to break the skin. A stinging pain encompassed her calf.

As if possessed by a beast, Adriana bent down and snatched Waverly by the hair, yanking her up and grabbing her neck.

No, I can’t hurt that little girl
!
Somebody stop me and help her
!

No one stopped her.

She shoved Waverly toward the wall . . .

Adriana woke thrashing and screaming.

A strange man gaped at her and then grabbed her shoulders. “Honey, it was just a dream!”

“No!” She kicked at him, hitting him a few times in the chest.

He fell off the bed with a grunt. Wide-eyed, the man lay on the floor, his short, brown hair mussed, his glasses hanging on his face sideways.

He rose and straightened his spectacles. “You’re awake. Everything’s all right.”

Confused, Adriana rubbed her eyes and looked at the strange man in the room. Her eyelids felt heavy—if she could just get some more sleep. She lay on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Darkness covered her like a shroud.

Thursday

The sun shone brightly through the garden window, and the white glow blinded Adriana as she shielded her eyes with her hand. She rose and drew the curtains.

Spring has its drawbacks
, she thought.

Sitting back down, Adriana drained her fourth cup of coffee while white strings of smoke rose and curled from the cigarette in her shaky hand. Her husband sat behind his plate of sausage, eggs and pancakes. His short brown hair, as mussed as it was last night, made him look younger than he really was. The glasses didn’t help. He grinned, reading the newspaper. She envied his devil-may-care attitude; he’d never suffered from night terrors in his whole life.

As if in answer to her thought, he met her eyes. His brow furrowed slightly while he took a sip of coffee. “Hon, are you all right?”

She broke down and cried. The memory of the dream was too much.

Should I be working in the nursery
?

Kerry rose, slipped his arms around her from behind and shushed her. A twinge of arousal asserted itself when his hard muscles intertwined with her flesh.

“Baby,” he said, “What’s the matter? Another dream?”

She nodded.

“What was it about?”

Her tears ran into the brown stains at the bottom of the white coffee cup. “I hurt . . . oh God, I hurt those . . .”

“Oh, sweetie.” He kissed her cheek. “Hurt who?”

I can’t tell him
.
He’ll put me away
.

“Honey, I think I need to see a doctor. These night terrors are driving me insane.”

Kerry nodded and kissed her. “I’ll make the appointment. We need to get you better.”

He headed to the phone. The sleep clinic had a cancellation and was willing to take her tomorrow.

***

Adriana sat on the black leather couch with Kerry, one of her hands in a bowl of popcorn, the other wrapped around a chilled bottle of diet soda. Caffeine was her best friend now.

Kerry stretched his arms out and yawned. “Well, I’ve got a hard day ahead of me tomorrow. I’m fixing a school’s A/C unit.” He faced her. “Coming to bed?”

She shook her head and focused on the television. She’d insisted they watch shows as innocent as possible, programs that wouldn’t give her nightmares. They’d started with a movie about babysitters and had ended up on a children’s channel, watching pretty boys and girls fret over a musical audition.

He rubbed her back. “Come on, babe. Even though you can’t see the doc until tomorrow, you need your rest.”

She laughed. “Oh, screw that. I’m staying up as late as I can.”

He sighed, let go of her and rose. “All right, goodnight.” He bent, kissed her, and then made his way to the bedroom.