Pray To Stay Dead (20 page)

Niebolt stepped back, admired his work. Max stood beside him, wiping his bloody hands on his shirt. Daniel’s nose was gone, just two bloody skeletal slits now bubbling blood. His lips were gone. So too was one of his ears, maybe both of them—Richard could not tell. So were his eyelids.

“
Wait,” Niebolt said, stepping once more toward Daniel. Richard stared at the ground while the old man scalped Colleen’s brother, wincing at the wet-towel sound of Daniel’s flesh being peeled away from his skull. He looked up when he knew it was over, unable to do otherwise.

Daniel shook, gasped and bubbled, his face raw and glistening, a surprised and grinning skull pouring blood down his naked body. His scalp was draped over his shoulder. The old man wiped the knife clean on one denim clad thigh, slid it into its sheath, and pumped another left hook into Daniel’s abdomen. The tongue-like flap of meat hanging from Daniel’s chest waggled. Richard leaned forward, his stomach twisting itself into an acid tangle.

“
Get back,” Niebolt said, waving his sons away. Plucking the scalp from Daniel’s shoulder, he strode over to Guy’s corpse, rolled it onto its stomach, and untied the ropes securing its arms and legs.

“
Here, here, you filth,” Niebolt said, waving Daniel’s dripping scalp above Guy’s mouth. The bound corpse clamped its teeth onto the offered treat. The dead thing tugged on the scalp like a dog trying to pry a saliva-soggy scrap of rawhide from its master’s hand, and the old man wrenched it away. A hairy scrap of flesh hung from between Guy’s lips.

The old man circled Guy’s corpse, cut the ropes binding its wrists. He placed Daniel’s scalp onto its head, an oozing and bloodied wig, Daniel’s bangs hanging into its eyes like a parody.

Daniel whimpered and gurgled and wheezed. Blood flowed from his head and from the long wound on his chest, and the flap of flesh glistened in the morning light and rocked gently back and forth, slapped against his stomach. No one said anything. All eyes were on Guy’s corpse, which struggled to its feet. It fell three times, right onto its face.

“
Holy shit,” one of them said. Another laughed.

At last, Guy’s body found its feet. It tottered, Daniel’s scalp dripping blood into its eyes, the bloody pants falling to the ground and revealing the wadded underwear dangling from its crotch, glued in place with caked-on blood.

“
Ur,” it seemed to say, stomach gases passing over its vocal cords. Its head wavered. Its fingers worked the air. It seemed confused.

“
Hey,” Samson said, loud, and Guy’s corpse looked in his direction. Its eyes widened, and it took a step toward him, its bare ass facing Richard.

Huffington Niebolt stepped behind the thing that was Guy and seized the back of its shirt in one fist. “This way.” He guided Guy’s corpse toward Daniel, who had slipped beyond the realm of screams. His shiny butcher-shop head hung low, and if not for Daniel’s heaving chest, Richard would have thought him dead.

“
This way, you piece of shit,” Niebolt said.

“
Don’t touch it,” Jacob said. “Who knows what kind of diseases it has.”

“
Shut up,” the old man said, pushing the dead thing closer to Daniel, closer, closer still. It swayed from left to right, and for a moment Richard thought it was going to pitch sideways and sprawl once more upon the ground. It steadied itself, its wavering head growing still, its groping hands descending toward the crimson swath dangling across Daniel’s stomach, seizing it in both hands and tugging.

The meat came away with little more than a moist whisper. Daniel did not respond. He quivered and gasped and wheezed, but there would be no more screams. Stumbling backward, Guy’s corpse pressed the dripping strip of meat to its mouth. It took a few drunken sideways steps, its jaw working. Smacking like a child, it sank to its knees.

Niebolt took one tentative step toward the dead thing and its meal. Daniel mewled once.

“
Stay back,” Samson said.

Richard struggled with his ropes, falling at last onto his side, where he grew still and hopeless.

“
Shut the hell up,” the old man said, easing himself toward the feasting corpse, standing at last within its reach.

“
It’s got food,” he said. “It doesn’t care about me.” He clenched his thick right hand into a fist and drove it into the side of the dead thing’s head. It toppled, the remains of its meal trailing from its mouth.

Niebolt stepped back, watched as it struggled onto its knees and pawed at its bloody mouth. The remains of the strip of flesh sliced from Daniel’s chest lay on the ground. The dead thing grabbed it, brought it to its mouth once more. Nibbled once, and then tossed it away. Its eyes settled on Niebolt, who stepped to the side, revealing Daniel, bloody and naked and warm.

“
God
,” Richard said. “Enough. Kill him, at least, you bastard.”

“
Shut up,” one of the shotgunners said, waving his weapon toward Richard.

Guy’s corpse stood, stumbled up to Daniel, and threw itself upon him like a lover, its eager mouth exploring his throat. Daniel’s breath came and went in blood-choked whistles through the ragged hole in his windpipe.

Guy’s corpse slowly spun in place, face and hands slick with blood and little wads of flesh. Richard did not close his eyes. He did not look away, could not shut out the horror simply because he did not want to open his eyes and find it moving toward him, inches away, its lips peeled back from blood-streaked teeth. Because of this simple fear, he watched Daniel die.

There were no final screams. Daniel went slack, utterly and completely slack, a rattle working its way from within his chest. A watery surge of vomit issued forth from his mouth and onto the ground, and he was done.

Guy’s corpse didn’t bother returning to its meal. It took a few steps away from Daniel, probed its mouth once more, and looked down at the length of its body. It grabbed the blood-stiff briefs clinging to its crotch and peeled them away, revealed the circle of open flesh where its penis had been. It dropped the underwear and looked around once more, its heavy-lidded gaze finding Richard.

“
Uur,” it said, the left side of its mouth twitching into something that would have looked like a half-smile on someone alive.

“
No,” Richard said, turning a pleading face to the old man. “Don’t let this happen, man, I’m begging you.”

Huffington Niebolt stared at Richard with unblinking eyes. He folded his arms across his chest, tight, like he was trying to contain himself. His muscled forearms rested atop the shelf of his gut, pinning his braided beard to his shirt.

Guy’s corpse tripped on its own feet and stumbled once again to the ground. It struggled for a few seconds, gained its bearings, limited as they were, and once more settled its eyes onto Richard. Like it knew he was helpless, and that to make a play for the others would be pointless. They had guns and fists. They could fight back.

Not bothering to stand, the dead thing dug its fingers into the dirt and the grass and crawled like a baby toward him.

“
I’m serious,” Richard said, panic unraveling his heart. Soon he would be braying like a madman. “I’ll do anything, okay? Just don’t let this happen. Don’t let this happen.”

The old man raised his eyebrows. Guy’s fingers found the soles of Richard’s shoes. Samson and his brothers watched with grim anticipation. Max smiled. Richard writhed and kicked and fell onto his side. Guy’s corpse stopped fumbling with Richard’s feet and, reorienting itself, crawled toward his face. Heart hammering, he lashed out with his bound feet, sunk his heels into the ground, and pushed himself away. He opened his mouth to beg Niebolt for mercy. Instead, he screamed. To his own ears, he sounded like an animal.

“
Enough of this,” Niebolt said, pointing at Max. “Pull it away.”

Scowling, Max stomped over, seized Guy’s corpse by the ankles, and dragged it facedown away from Richard.

“
That’s far enough,” Niebolt said.

Max let go of the thing’s sock-clad ankles. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, cursing under his breath, stepping forward and pressing his right foot onto the back of the dead thing’s head. It flailed, pawing Max’s shoe.

“
Tie it up,” Niebolt said, walking over to where Richard lay. He stopped, his large hands on his hips, looking down at Richard. “You got a name, boy?”

Richard opened his mouth, and Niebolt pressed the worn sole of his right boot to Richard’s lips, mashing them against his teeth.

“
Just so you know: if you tell me ‘fuck you,’ I’m gonna kick your face in right here. And that’s not just some figure of speech bullshit, or anything. I’ll goddamn kick it in, you hear?”

Richard blinked up at the old man.

“
You hear?” Niebolt said, his leathery forehead creasing over his raised eyebrows. He gave Richard’s face a painful nudge.

“
Yes,” Richard said against the bottom of the man’s boot, his words muffled. Dirt crunched between his teeth.

“
Mm?” Niebolt pulled his foot away from Richard’s face.

“
Okay.”

“
So?”

“
What?” Richard asked, his mind not letting go of the image of the old man’s boot kicking his face until it was a ragged and bloody hole.

Niebolt laughed, looked around at his sons. Settled his gaze once more on Richard. “Your name.”

“
Richard.”

“
Richard?” Niebolt asked, nodding. “Richard. Just like the good man in the White House. You vote for him, Richard?”

“
Nuh,” Richard said, spitting. “No.”

“
No, I wouldn’t think so,” Niebolt said, scratching his chin. “A young man like you. Of course you didn’t.”

Behind Niebolt, Daniel’s corpse lifted his head and looked around. Niebolt followed Richard’s gaze, looked back at him.

“
Happens fast, doesn’t it, Dick?” Niebolt said, shaking his head. “Amazing.”

Max sat on Guy’s back, straddling him. He placed his left hand in the dead thing’s head and forced its face down into the dirt.

“
You probably get called Dick all the time, huh, Richard?”

“
Sometimes,” Richard said. “When I was younger.”

“
Probably didn’t like it.”

“
No.”

“
I don’t blame you, Rich. Can I call you Rich?”

“
Sure.”

“
Good,” Niebolt said, reaching down and pulling Richard to his feet and slamming him against the tree to his back. Richard’s knees buckled.

“
Stay on your feet, now, Rich. Be a man.”

“
Why are you doing this?”

“
Not that again. You should know better.”

Niebolt punched him in the stomach. Gasping, Richard sank to the ground, a white-hot knot of pain spreading through his guts.

“
I got better things to do, Rich,” Niebolt said. “Big things happening out there, as you know. Jacob?”

“
Yeah?” Jacob asked, stepping up beside his father.

“
You take care of Rich here, okay?”

Jacob regarded Richard, his face a heavy-lidded blank. “Okay,” he said.

“
But—” Sam said, appearing at Niebolt’s other shoulder.

“
But nothing,” the old man said. “Don’t make me knock your teeth out, Samson.” The old man looked down at Richard, one last time. He smiled. “Have fun.”

A few minutes later, Richard was alone with Jacob. Guy’s corpse tried to roll onto its back. Daniel’s scalp slid from its head and lay rumbled upon the ground. Tied to the tree, Daniel’s corpse looked left and right, left and right, as if it were still trying to shake the hair from its eyes.

“
My dad’s old,” Jacob said, dropping to his knees beside Richard. “He does things his way. We don’t always agree, but he’s old, and I think he may be a little crazy, because I really don’t believe most of the things he tells us. Most of it is just nuts, man.” Jacob shrugged. “Sometimes, though, he lets us do things our way.”

Jacob slid a large serrated knife from the sheath at his hip. He held it up, between them, looking past the blade and into Richard’s eyes.

“
Like now,” Jacob said, pushing Richard down and onto his chest. His fingers moved up Richard’s back and into his hair, and he pressed Richard’s face to the ground. Richard screamed.

Jacob moved down. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, his scream dissolving into an incoherent prayer. He tasted dirt. He begged God and cursed God, and he waited for pain that did not come. There was a tugging at his ankles, his wrists. Steel touched his flesh but did not open it. The ropes fell away. Jacob stood, rolling Richard onto his back with his right foot.

Richard held his hands before his face, wiggled his fingers, stared at the rope marks on his wrists, felt blood tingling back into his limbs.

Jacob smiled, took a few steps back.

“
I’m not the kind of guy who likes things handed to me, all nice and wrapped up,” he said, looking Richard up and down. “I like to earn what’s mine. I’m gonna give you five minutes.”

“
What?” Richard asked, sitting up and massaging his calf muscles.

“
Five minutes,” Jacob said, producing a cigarette from a box in his shirt pocket and lighting up. “Then I’m coming after your ass. Or you can sit there and rub your leg for five minutes, and I’ll just kill you right here, but I’d really like you to run.”