The Collected Horrors of Tim Wellman (6 page)

***

I woke up in a dumpster someplace different than
anyplace I had ever been before. A quick glance at the skyline
revealed a sign, then another. Spokane. It was hard to breath, and
I rubbed my nose, a big mistake. It was smashed up and caked full
of dry blood. I picked around at it gingerly until I tunneled a
small passageway. That too was a mistake because I could smell the
shit and refuse I was lying in. But there was something else,
something beside me. I managed to refocus my eyes and discovered I
was grabbing Karen by the breasts. Not a bad way to wake up under
different circumstances, I thought. But she was alive and warm,
though Spokane was colder than a motherfuck.

I managed to throw a leg over the lip of the
dumpster and then slid out and immediately puked my guts out. I've
woken up in worse condition, but that had usually been my own
damned fault. I pulled myself back up and reached into the dumpster
and grabbed Karen's shoulders and shook her. There was no response.
She had a bloody nose, but otherwise there were no visible
injuries. I slapped her, then harder, until she stirred. I started
to slap her again, but she grabbed me by the wrist.

"Enough!" she moaned. "I'm awake." She opened
her eyes and blinked several times. "You look horrible." She
stretched her back and took a deep breath before she sat up. "A
dumpster, huh?"

I nodded and reached my arms around her back and
legs, lifted her out, and sat her down on solid ground. "It doesn't
get better," I said. "We're in Spokane."

She shivered and rubbed her arms. "It's colder
than a motherfuck!"

I nodded. "I don't guess your purse is in there
anywhere?"

She looked inside the dumpster and used a
discarded plunger handle to rake around in the slop. "No."

"My wallet is gone, too," I said. I knew what
had happened. We got too close to something and it turned around
and bit us on the ass. It had happened to me before, but the bite
was never this bad. Why they didn't just kill us, I didn't know.
Maybe if they killed us we'd end up like Susan, whatever the hell
she was, and their
game
would get too crowded.

"You sure she was dead?" Karen said. "Susan, I
mean."

"Yep, splattered into pieces," I said. "And I'm
sure about seeing the
monster
, too."

"So, whoever that was, it ain't
my
Susan," she said. She pulled her pumps off and banged the heels on
the edge of the dumpster until they came loose and then slipped
them back on her feet. "Then, let's go."

I was really developing a thing for the girl.
"You think we can walk two thousand miles?" I reached into my
pocket, still had my smokes. I pulled out the pack and shook one
out for Karen, then slid one out for myself. I had to search a
couple of pockets, but finally found a matchbook in my pants.
"Hah," I said. I showed it to Karen. It was blank. There was a lot
more going on than either of us had wanted to be involved in, but
sometimes the fight comes to you. "We can walk to a place with a
phone," I said as I lit both our cigarettes. "I got a number I can
call, get us back east." I felt her loop her arm around mine and we
began to walk.

"Whatcha gonna do when we get back there?"

"Don't know," I said. "It'll be hard to find a
trail. I'll bet you a dollar to a donut that every trace of the Top
Heavy Club and Steve Saunders will be gone."

"You got a plan?"

"Nope."

"Nothin'?"

"Nope," I said. "Might be best for the both of
us to just forget what happened and get on with our lives."

"Could you live like that?" she said.

"Nope," I said. I couldn't live like that.

The Girls In Room
Three

Miss Evelyn Crone climbed the seven worn stone
steps up to the old school house double doors, turned the knob, and
began her new life. The news had come as a shock, but a welcome
victory after three years as a substitute. But now, finally, she
would have her own class, even though it meant moving to the tiny
town of Ceres, West Virginia, population, assuming all was well at
the retirement home on the particular day they were counted, 2316.
The building itself was an old wooden two story and had six
classrooms, one for each grade, two bathrooms, and an eighth room
used as a combination Principal's office, library, and supply
closet, all on the ground floor. The second floor was only used for
storage because the floors were considered unsafe for students to
gather on for fear of falling through. When the Principal had shown
her around the week before, he had briefly alluded to it, but
nothing more was said. A smaller, newer brick building served as
the cafeteria and completed the school campus, apart from an old
dormitory building in the adjacent lot, rarely used now since most
teachers felt more comfortable living in their own apartments or
houses.

"Ah! Miss Crone," the balding, middle-aged man
said, stepping out of his office as she walked by. "I wanted to
check up on you. How do you find the teacher's dorm?"

"Oh, Principal Stevens," she said, as she fought
to control the armload of papers and books the sudden stop had
loosened from her tight grip. "It's fine. I wouldn't expect more
than a quiet room and a comfortable bed."

"Well, it might be 2013 everywhere else in the
world, but we Ceresians believe in taking things a bit slower," he
said. "Hell, most of us are still watching VHS tapes and listening
to cassettes."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it, sir," she said.
"Even come to love it. It's not so much smaller than my
hometown."

"Fine, fine," he said. "Do you remember where
your classroom is?"

"Yes sir, room three," she said.

"Fine, fine," he said. "Do carry on, then, and
have a great day!"

She smiled, and then continued down the hallway
until she reached her classroom. She looked through the window
first; the room was full of new third graders, talking, reading,
standing around desks. But one thing was odd, all of her students
were girls. She turned back toward the Principal's office.
"Sir!"

"Oh, yes?" he yelled.

She quickly walked back to where he was
standing. "Sir, there are only girls in my class."

"Ah, yes, about that." He fidgeted with his tie
and cleared his throat. "You see, Miss Crone, is it okay to call
you Evelyn, all of last year's second grade boys were... well,
there was an accident."

"An... an accident?"

"Yes, well, I suppose we should have told you,
but other things came up, and it's so rare for the county to allow
us a new teacher, we didn't want ta spook ya. You see, all the boys
that would have been in your class went on a fieldtrip a week
before school was over this past summer. A fieldtrip to one of the
old coke ovens out on Route Fifty-Two, just out of Kenoa. And,
well, you need to get to your class, so I'll make it short. All the
boys decided to go inside one of the ovens, and when they did, it
collapsed on them. Damnedest thing, they seemed solid as houses.
Their guide said they'd be safe. But it killed them all, thirteen
little lads gone in a matter of seconds. So, the only third graders
we have left in this town are girls."

"Oh my," she said. "I... that's horrible."

Yes, well, we live on as best we can," he said.
"But most all of us at least knew
one
of the boys
personally."

"Yes," she said. "Well, thank you for telling
me."

"Fine, fine," he said. "Well, let us be about
our work. My office is always open if you need anything."

She nodded her head and walked back to her
classroom, and this time, turned the door knob and went inside,
walked immediately to the chalkboard, and turned to face the kids.
"Girls, my name is Miss Crone, and I'm your new teacher." She bent
over and let everything she was carrying spill onto her desk in a
neat pile, and then shuffled through it until she found her grade
book. "Now, one by one, come forward and tell me your name so I can
mark it down along with your desk position." She looked around.
"Well, let's start on this side, you, first." She pointed at the
little girl on the front of the row nearest the windows.

She got up, adjusted her clothing, and walked to
the teacher's desk. "My name is Susan Napier," she said. "And I sit
there!" She pointed to her desk.

"Susan," Evelyn said as she wrote in her book.
"And it isn't necessary to tell me where you sit, since I can see
that very clearly." She looked up and smiled at the girl.
"Napier... do your parents own the grocery store?"

"Yes ma'am, my mom," Susan said. "Though I can't
get you any free food."

"I wasn't asking!" she said, her face blood red
with embarrassment. "Anyway, you can go back to your seat. And now,
you," she pointed to the girl behind Susan's empty desk, "you're
next."

One-by-one she met and recorded each of her
fifteen students, trying her best to chat with each girl a few
moments to break the tension of the first new school day. They were
a mixed group of introverts and extraverts, intelligent and
average, playful and serious. No one stood out as a loner or a
leader, there were no obvious troublemakers or bullies. It was a
normal class full of students. That pleased Evelyn. After some
tumultuous teen years, she liked normal, even though there would
always be something abnormal about her class of only girls.

One girl raised her hand and spoke. "Miss Crone,
do you believe in god?"

Evelyn was somewhat surprised by the question,
or more importantly, the motivation behind the question. "What? Oh,
of course I do, uh," she looked down the list of names in her book,
"Chelsea."

"Do you think everyone goes to heaven?"

"Well, all
children
go to heaven if they
die," she said. She thought for a moment and wondered if her answer
was appropriate. In her limited teaching experience, and indeed,
life experience, she had always been around older students.
"Students, I know what happened at the end of last year's classes,
and I expect that many of you lost friends or even members of your
family. And I know it must be tough for all you to be here now, the
empty desks bringing back the memories of the boys you were
together with for two years. And we should all do our best to
remember those boys, but continue to live our lives looking toward
the future." She forced a smile and looked around the room. "Since
this is the first day, we'll spend a while getting our books and I
have some handouts for you, too." She looked toward the back of the
room. "I believe our textbooks are in the lockers back there, so if
a couple of you on the back row could get them and hand them out to
the rest of the class, it would be a big help."

Susan raised her hand. "I
might
be able
to get you a small
discount
at the store, but that's
all!"

"I
told
you I wasn't
asking
for
anything!" Evelyn said.

****

"Ah, Miss Crone!" the Principal called out as he
saw her approach. "So, how is your first school day going?"

"It's fine," she said. "The girls are
well-behaved." She stopped at his office door where he and another
man were talking.

"Fine, fine," he said. "They're good girls,
unlike our new class of first graders."

"Demons all," the other man said.

"Oh, you haven't met the other teachers yet," he
said. "This is Steve Cross. He taught your girls in first and
second grade. But, after we found we were getting you late last
school year, he got to move back to his original position as first
grade teacher for this year."

She held out her hand and he shook it.
"Pleasure. Call me Steve. Or, the first grade class's human
sacrifice."

"Call me Evelyn," she said.

"That's better," he said. "I can't imagine
anyone calling you a
crone
."

"So, you were advancing with your students?" she
said with a chuckle.

"Yes, but apparently I failed second grade," he
said.

"Well, I'll leave you to your childish
flirtations," the Principal said. "Got to wolf down some
nourishment."

"What?" Evelyn said. "No!"

Steve chuckled. "Don't mind him," he said. "Hey,
they've got corndogs in the cafeteria today, let's have lunch."

She shrugged. "OK." He opened the door and waved
her through and they walked together toward the small cafeteria.
Kids were busy shuffling in, but there was also a faculty entrance.
"Oh, uh, Steve, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything at all," he said as he opened
the cafeteria door and waved her inside.

"My girls all brought their lunch and stayed in
the classroom," she said. "But, it seems all the other kids are
eating here."

"You want two corndogs?" he asked. She hunched
her shoulders and nodded. "Four dogs, please," he said to the cook
and she slid two trays across the counter.

"Ya want mustard er ketchup?"

"Mustard," Evelyn said.

"Same for me, gorgeous," he said with a smile
that made the old cook giggle.

"Ya charmer, you," she said. She dropped several
mustard packets onto each tray.

"These tables are for the teachers," he said as
he pointed Evelyn to a chair around a small, round table in the
corner of the room.

"So, you didn't answer my question," she
said.

"I'm sorry, I forgot what we were talking
about," he said. "Ask me again."

"My girls?" she said as she squirted the
condiment onto a corndog. "They're eating lunch in the
classroom."

"Oh that. Well, I guess some of the other kids
aren't completely comfortable around them and so they think it's
best to give the other kids some space."

"What is there to be uncomfortable about?" she
said. She took a bite. "These are tough as shoe leather!" she said
with her mouth full of barely edible food.