Empty Bodies (Book 2): Adaptation (11 page)

“No problem.”

Lawrence nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll fill you guys in on what happened.”

***

David

David reached his room free and clear of anyone seeing him. He wouldn’t have stopped to talk to anyone if they’d tried, thus avoiding the inevitable awkwardness that would have arisen. David only wanted to get to his room and be alone.

Once inside, he shut the door behind him. He looked around the room for something heavy enough to put against the door so that no one from the outside could open it, but nothing would suffice. The closest thing was the bed, but even if he put the wheels in the lock position, it was still probably too lightweight to prevent anyone from getting inside.

He walked to the bathroom to take a piss, and then washed his hands and arms. The darkened, dried blood filled the sink. He watched the white porcelain turn deep crimson as he scrubbed vigorously. David looked into the mirror and splashed water onto his face. The man looking back at him was a stranger. Just days ago, he’d been a successful business owner; a millionaire and an eligible bachelor. Now, he was nothing more than another person trying to survive in this new world. His money didn’t mean shit anymore as far as he could tell.

David looked a little further down in the mirror and tended to a cut on his left pectoral. During his struggle with the last Empty, the creature had scratched him really good. He grabbed a towel and applied pressure to the scratch to try and cease the light bleeding.

His eyes moved to other scars on his body.

In various places on his chest and his stomach, David had permanent cuts and scratches. He avoided looking at them as much as possible, desperately wanting to forget the memories trapped inside the wounds.

But, deep down, he knew that to forget the origins of his wounds would only weaken him.

***

October, 1984

Texas

He remembered every detail about the last time it happened.

The boy was sitting in the closet under the stairs, where he and his brother would often go to hide. The closet was only used to store coats and a couple of boxes full of junk, so there was plenty of room for the two boys to fit inside.

This particular night, James Robert Ellis had finally gone too far.

David sat in the small closet alone, while in the other room, his mother begged for James to stop. It wasn’t as if young David hadn’t heard it before. During his thirteen years of life, the boy couldn’t remember a time when his father hadn’t beaten his mother. Recently, though, the beatings had gotten worse. And they weren’t just limited to David’s mother. His father had beaten him and his little brother, Michael, as well. Michael was two years younger than David and was upstairs in his bedroom. David could only hope at the time that his younger brother was asleep like he was supposed to be, and like David, should have been.

“Robert, please!” David’s mother cried.

David heard the glass bottle slam onto the table, and could distinctly hear the heavy breathing of his father as he grunted, then connected with another blow, the slap obvious through the stale air.

While his mother sobbed uncontrollably, David didn’t cry. He had long passed the point of becoming immune to the beatings. David knew he would be next. It hurt him to know that his mother was in pain, but he wanted to keep a straight face for when his father came after him. He didn’t want to give the son of a bitch the luxury of seeing him cry while the man, enraged in a drunken state, beat his oldest son with the same black, leather belt that he’d used many times over.

“What?” David’s father yelled.

David could hear his mother crying more loudly now. He heard his father growl, and his mother let out a deafening scream. David came off the wall he was leaning against and sat up straight. There was a bang, followed by glass shattering, and then a loud thud.

He jumped to his feet and ran out of the closet toward the kitchen.

When David reached the dining room, his father was already waiting for him. He looked down and saw his mother lying facedown on the linoleum floor. Blood was coming out of her forehead. He wanted to run to her, but feared that his dad might harm him even more than he was already going to if he tried to help her.

“You son of a bitch,” David mumbled.

His father took a swig out of the whiskey bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and glared down at his oldest son.

“Boy, I’ll teach you to talk to me like that!”

And for the next twenty minutes, that’s exactly what his father did.

***

Just over a week later, David was heading out the door to go hunting with his younger brother and a slightly more sober version of his father. He watched as his mother planted a kiss onto his stoic father’s cheek before leaning down to give him one.

“Love you, son.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

She kissed Michael, told him the same, and the two boys joined their father in his pickup truck.

***

The only sound in the truck was that of outlaw country music coming from the stereo. None of them spoke on the way to the land where they were going to hunt. It belonged to a friend of David’s father, a man who James had worked with at the factory for almost nine years. The man had supposedly inherited the land when his own father had died, and allowed some of his friends, including James Ellis, to come hunt on the land during deer season.

David sat in the middle of the bench seat between his father and his little brother. He glanced over at Michael, whose eye had swollen overnight from the beating their father had given him. David looked up at his father, who didn’t acknowledge him. He focused on the road, smacking the snuff between his gums, and mouthing the words to Waylon on the radio.

The truck turned down the bumpy dirt road that led to the hunting area; David and his brother bounced up and down on the old seats.

“You boys better keep God damned quiet when we’re out there, you hear me? I don’t want you scarin’ no deer away,” their father said.

“Yes, father,” Michael replied.

David didn’t say anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father glance down at him a couple of times.

“You hear me, boy?”

David narrowed his eyes and continued to face forward.

“Ouch!” David cried out as his father drove his right elbow into his arm.

“You better not ignore me, boy, or I’ll make both your eyes look like your brother’s.”

David rubbed his arm and took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

At the end of the dirt road, the truck came to a stop, and David’s father stepped out of the driver’s seat.

“Come’on boys.”

The two children climbed out of the truck and followed their father.

***

David stood behind a bush, eyeing a deer that was grazing twenty yards away. He licked his lips in anticipation of firing a shot. When they hunted, they sometimes stayed together, while other times they’d separate. Today, their father had decided to split them all up. The boys had spent enough time hunting in the woods to be on their own. David assumed that his father wasn’t exactly in the mood for quality time with his two boys, and that was fine with him. If their mother hadn’t begged him to take them, James more than likely would have just gone alone.

As David sat there watching the animal and waiting for the right time to take a shot, he looked around at the vast open woods around him.
What if I just found Michael and we ran away? Just fled through these woods and never saw that asshole again?
The thought was intriguing. David hated his father, and the thought of independence from the bastard crawled up inside him.

There was a rustle in the leaves behind David, and the deer raised its head. The boy came out of his daydream of leaving his abusive father behind and hurried to aim, but it was too late.

The deer looked his way before running away into the trees.

David sighed and shook his head.

“Good job, faggot.” The voice was that of his father.

David turned around to see the man walking toward him. He was about fifteen yards away, taking a swig straight out of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He’d left his gun resting on a large rock just behind him. James stumbled over the sticks and leaves on the ground, and David thought the man could fall to the ground at any time.

“You just don’t have it in ya to get the job done, do ya, boy?”

The anger crept up inside of David again. He glared right into his father’s eyes. A sensation built up from the pit of his stomach. When he looked into his father’s gaze, which was so much like his own, he saw nothing but emptiness. Hatred. David’s palms were sweaty, and his arms were trembling.

“You’re a fuckin’ puss-ass loser, son. A no-good piece of shit!”

Right as the last word came out of his father’s mouth, David raised the rifle up and aimed it directly at his hatred.

James raised his hands into the air. “What? You gonna shoot me, son?” The man laughed.

His father stood within ten yards of David, and the boy had the gun pointed right at his chest, looking down the barrel with one open eye.

His father smiled from ear to ear. “You don’t have the balls to pull that trigger, you little queer. Just wait until you put it down. I’m gonna beat the shit out of your brother in front of you, then I’m gonna beat the shit out of you. And your mother? I’ll beat her ass just for making me drag you little faggots out here with me.”

The feeling in David’s stomach grew stronger. His heart was beating a hundred miles per hour, like it would erupt right out of his chest at any moment. His hands still trembled, and the gun made a faint clicking sound as he shook it.

David’s father laughed again. “You’re worthless.”

He brought down the hand that held the bottle and took another long swig of the whiskey. Once the bottle had begun to tip back, James’ eyes went wide and he reared the bottle back, preparing to throw it at his son.

Before he could, David pulled the trigger.

The glass bottle shattered on a rock next to James’ feet. David watched his father look down at the blood seeping out of his chest, in complete shock at what had happened. The blast hit him in the left part of his chest. Blood poured out of the wound, turning the man’s hands crimson as he clutched it.

James fell to his knees, gave one last look at his young son, and then fell onto his face.

David stood alone in the middle of the woods, staring at the motionless body of his father. He felt no regret. No remorse. The man who’d brought him, his brother, and his beautiful mother so much pain was dead.

And David Ellis was changed forever.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Will

Since they’d been together, the fire truck was quite possibly the best thing that had happened to them. The large fire engine easily plowed over the Empties causing little to no damage to the vehicle. Marcus even collided with a few cars and they barely felt the impact. Will let Marcus drive since he claimed he had experience operating heavier machinery in the past. Will was thankful that Marcus felt well enough to drive now.

Dylan was asleep, sitting upright in one of the seats behind them. The two men laughed when the boy began to snore. Holly and Gabriel were lying on the floor of the truck in the back, still passed out from the crash. They were breathing and in stable condition, but Will and Marcus only hoped that they could find help soon.

Will was elated when he saw the large green sign reading: Knoxville 26. They were finally getting close.

“About damned time!” Marcus said.

Will leaned over and put his head into his hands. He looked up and Marcus was looking over at him.

“What’s wrong, bro?” Marcus asked.

“I just hope we aren’t too late, and I hope we can find them.”

“We will, man. We will.”

“It’s taken too long, Marcus. What if they’re hurt… or worse?”

“You can’t think like that. You have to
believe
that we are going to find your mom and dad, and we will.”

Will looked out the window and watched a group of Empties on the eastbound side of the interstate.