Fortunes & Failures - 03 (43 page)

“But what the hell does he mean by luxuries?” Jon hissed.

“I have no clue,” I said with a shrug.  “But look!” I gestured to the group.  Everybody was smiling, some were laughing.  “Whatever it is, have you ever seen everybody so up?  Even the doc is getting swept into this.”

The two of us watched as Dr. Zahn clapped appreciatively while Thalia held her dress up to her tiny body.  Melinda was leaning into DeAngelo, her normal wince from the pain replaced by a huge smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jon shrugged.

Eventually the din died down.  Teresa took the moment to announce that the section of road had finally given.  It had collapsed in spectacular fashion…almost taking Brad with it apparently.  Talk continued and I stood back, watching.  Even Jon was laughing…finally.  This was my new family.  Not even the low clouds and chill could dampen this growing feeling of optimism that was settling in.



“It ain’t a tux,” Jake said as he helped me with my tie seeing as how my hands all of a sudden couldn’t seem to manage, “but it’ll look good.  Besides, nobody cares what
you
look like anyways.”

“Long as Melissa is standin’ beside you, you may well be invisible anyways,” DeAngelo added with a rumbling laugh.

“Hey,” Jamie stuck his head inside the door, “Teresa says it’ll be about ten more minutes.

“Tell ‘em we’ll be ready,” Ian stood up and walked to the window, “but if they put this off much longer, those clouds will be sitting right on top of us.” Jamie nodded and ducked back out, closing the door.

“That girl already has him jumpin’ though hoops,” DeAngelo said, shaking his head.

“You have no idea,” Billy grumbled from where he was sitting in a corner.

“All done.” Jake raised his hands like he’d just hog-tied a calf at the rodeo.

“Let’s get outside.” Ian opened the door, ushering everybody out.  He stopped me as I brought up the rear.  “Too bad you got that bum leg.”

“It’s getting better,” I said, wondering what he was talkin’ about.

“Yeah, well…I usually ask my friends right about now if they’re sure.  Tell ‘em it ain’t too late to run for the hills,” he laughed.  “Guess you’re stuck.”

“Cute.”

“But seriously…I want to wish you both the best.”

“Thanks, Ian.” He and I started to shake hands, but it morphed into a bro-hug.

We walked outside to the gazebo.  Ian and Billy had really outdone themselves, but some credit had to go to Jake.  One of his “luxuries” was a strand of twinkling lights and one of those large, square batteries from an emergency lamp to power them.  With the sun setting behind the hills, it added an ethereal quality to the white painted structure.

Jon was already standing inside, waiting.  Ian and I went up and stood in our place.  Then, another luxury, the strains of
Vivaldi’s Allegro from Spring
came from the portable CD player.  (They’d tried to find a disc with the
Wedding March
, but Melissa had finally settled on this.)

All eyes turned as Melissa stepped from the shadows of the house.  Thalia and Emily held little silk flower bouquets in their hands. Both girls had huge smiles.  Melissa’s own light-pink dress shimmered in the twinkling lights as she took her place beside me.  The music faded, and the two of us turned to face Jon.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered her together to join this couple, Steven Raymond Hobart and Melissa Rachel Blake in matrimony…”

* * * * *

18

Vignettes XVIII

Garrett looked at the empty bottle of Southern Comfort like it had betrayed him.  He tossed it aside and picked out another beer from the tub of cold water.  He took a long drink and felt the gurgle in his stomach.  Garrett felt the belch rise and contemplated how he couldn’t avoid the inevitable outcome.  He let go loudly.

There it was again.
 
That taste
.  It hadn’t been terrible when he ate.  In fact, he’d been able to convince himself he was eating something else entirely.  Then he’d had the images fly through his head. His mother.  Kimmy Vanderwall.  His first Toy.  Each one eaten by those
 
things
.  The more full he got, the less appealing his meal became.

He’d fallen asleep shortly after his dinner.  The nightmares came fast and vivid.  The Toy’s face appeared amongst the sea of dead faces alongside his mother and Kimmy Vanderwall.  And there were others he recognized like Ennis; the man who’d done all those things to him so long ago.  He awoke in a sweat and decided to drink the taste out of his mouth.

It hadn’t worked.

To make it worse, the wind was blowing in from the street.  It carried the sound
and
the smell.  He was fairly certain it was that combination that had triggered his nightmares.  The darkness seemed to gain weight, pressing on him from all sides. 

Unable to stand it anymore, Garrett grabbed the poker from the rack beside the fireplace and stormed out into the darkness.  He stalked up the driveway, ignoring the chill.  Reaching the gate, he lashed out, jabbing and poking with savage ferocity.  Every so often his attack would drive the iron tip into one of those emotionless faces.  The body would slowly drop to the ground in some cases.  In others, they were pressed so close that it stayed pressed between the bars and the gigantic horde behind them.

Exhausted, he finally tossed the poker to the ground. The sounds of the undead were loud enough to drown out his scream of anger and frustration. He returned to the house, stopping in the entry to consider exactly what he wanted to do.  He decided on the beer, but he would go upstairs soon enough…and The Toy would pay for his being trapped here.

He grabbed the bucket of cold water with the remaining eight cans of the case bobbling in it.  Garrett refused to look at the counter as he passed through the kitchen on his way out to the back yard.  He would not look at those long, slender bones.

Once outside, he began on the beer. He could still hear them.  His hands fished around inside the bucket.  Empty.  Looking around, he saw cans scattered about his feet.  He didn’t remember drinking them all, yet here they were.  He considered his choices.  He had one more case left, or the bottle of Vodka.  He decided on the bottle.

Returning inside, Garrett grabbed it and stood in the empty pantry.  He took long pulls every so often.  The images in his mind seemed to grow more and more clear as he drank.  Lifting the bottle to his lips, he almost wept when nothing happened.  The bottle was empty.

Anger came in a flood, and Garrett threw the bottle across the dark kitchen. He heard it explode in a shower of glass shards; some of the pieces flickering in the minute amount of moonlight coming through the windows.

Like a human landslide, he started through the house. Slow at first, but gathering momentum.  He left a path of overturned furniture in his path; smashing or tossing aside anything that was unfortunate enough to get in his way.  The stairs proved to be his most difficult obstacle.  He made his way up, each slip or stumble adding to his anger.

He reached the doorway.  The candles had long since burned out, but he could see the small, naked form outlined on the bed. He fumbled with his belt and kicked off his shoes.  Allowing his pants to fall to the floor, he toppled trying to pull out his legs.  With growing anger, he tugged and yanked until they finally came off.  Casting them aside, he rose and approached. In shock, Garrett took note of the most recent betrayal.  His body wasn’t responding.  Normally anger had him fully aroused.  Not this time.  He tugged at the flaccid piece that dangled ineffectively between his legs. Nothing happened.  He threw himself on The Toy and tried to stuff his impotent organ inside.

Nothing
!

Furious, he rose up on his knees and tugged the line tied to the right arm and the headboard so hard that it snapped.  He repeated his actions on the line secured to the right leg and the bedpost.  It also parted, causing him to fall back. He heard The Toy cry out,
 
Yes
, he thought,
 
cry
.  But still his body refused to respond.

He flipped The Toy onto its belly and grabbed its hips.  Moving up behind it, he again tried to arouse himself manually.  He tried to push himself into The Toy once more.

Nothing
!

Garrett screamed his rage.  He hit The Toy with one big fist in the small of the back.  It yelped, but his body would not give him even the slightest twitch of arousal.  His fists rained down with meaty thuds and even the occasional pop of a bone; sometimes from his hands, sometimes from The Toy.

Exhausted, he stopped.  At some point, his bladder had let go.  The room began to tilt and spin.  In a daze, Garrett climbed off the bed.  He stumbled down the dark hallway to his room and collapsed.  Fortunately, he was on his stomach.  His body convulsed twice as watery vomit sprayed from his mouth and nose.  Then, the deep snore mixed with a bubbling sound echoed in the room.



Kirsten sobbed.  Her body hurt everywhere.  It felt if she’d been placed in a giant vice and crushed.  Each breath sent a new pain coursing through her.  She tasted blood in her mouth and was having a terrible time getting enough breath.  Each inhale and exhale felt smaller, like her lungs were shrinking.

She tried to roll over, and it took a second before she realized it.  Her right hand was free!  The Big Bam had left without securing her.  So was her right leg! That meant…

Kirsten pulled what remained of her left arm free of the bindings.  Only her left leg was still tied.  She sat up and was hit with a bolt of pain so severe that she blacked out.

When Kirsten came to, it took her a moment to comprehend what had happened.  Fear crept in. 
This
was her one chance.  If she blew it because of the pain, she would…

What?
Kirsten thought,
Live to regret it?
Not for long she wouldn’t.  The Big Man was going to cut her up and eat her.  No, she had to do this and she had to do it now.  She looked out her window.  The slightest glow of dawn was beginning to show in the sky.

Very slowly, she sat up.  Her breathing sounded strange.  It reminded her of the pump in her dad’s fish tank in his office. Eventually, she was sitting up.  Her vision narrowed, and once more the pain threatened to overwhelm. Kirsten gritted her teeth and fought through it.  Wincing against the agony she untied the knot on her left ankle.  Once that was done, she took care of the ones on her right wrist with her teeth and the one on her right ankle.

She was free!

Kirsten struggled to her feet and made her way to her dresser.  It seemed to take an eternity, but at last, she was dressed.  Now she would slip out.  She had an entire world to hide in.  The Big Man would never find her again.

Stepping into the hall, Kirsten heard them: The monster-people. 
Why were they so loud?
she wondered.  Had they slipped inside the gate somehow? She could also hear the snores of the Big Man.  Fairly confident that he would remain fast asleep—she could smell the stink of alcohol on him from the hallway—Kirsten slipped into his room.  Were the monster-people out in the back yard?

She looked out the window and her entire body seemed to go numb.  She went into the bathroom, and peeked out the window.  Her mind struggled with what she saw.  There were so many.

Realization crashed down on Kirsten and she cried.  Now she knew.  She knew why there had been no more meals.  She knew why The Big Man had started in on her.  There would be no escape.

Kirsten thought long and hard until she came to a decision. Calmly, she went to her dad’s office. She knew exactly where he kept the key for times when power was out and an emergency arose. A few times, a voice in her mind tried to talk her out of her plan.

No
, the voice would plead.

Yes
, Kirsten thought,
it is the only way
. 

Steeling herself, Kirsten struggled her way down the stairs.  Reaching the front door, she cast one look up the stairs.  She could still hear him snore.  Stepping outside, the cold air threatened to steal what little breath she could take in.  Kirsten walked the familiar path to the driveway.

She reached the gate and stared at the wall of horror that stared back.  She didn’t recognize any of the faces.  All her friends…their families…gone. The electronic mechanism that opened this gate was useless.  However, at the bottom was a lever.  In case of an emergency, during a power failure, of course there had to be a way to open the gate.

Fighting through the pain, Kirsten knelt.  The monster-people were smashed in so tight that none of them could follow her; none of them could reach down and grab her. She fumbled with the box.  Kirsten was thankful that The Big Man had shown no interest in her dad’s office.  The key had been right there in the top drawer where he always kept it. It slid into the lock and turned.  The box opened and she tugged at the lever.  It barely budged.  So many of those things pressed against the gate.