The Last Horror Novel in the History of the World (5 page)

Blue takes the beer bottle back from Rob, swigs it, then looks askance. “You hear that?” Blue asks.

Rob nods. “Gunshot.”

Tim says, “Too close to be hunters.”

Blue says, “Too many to be hunters.”

A few more shots are fired. They sound like hammers on rooftops. “That,” said Rob, “was a pistol,” he pauses and hears some more shots, “but there’s a shotgun in there somewhere too.”

“What you hunt with both?” asks Tim, who is a hunter but only casually.

Blue shakes his head, “People,” he says.

Scarlett is on top of Teddy again, fucking him again, wriggling in the sex way, but she pauses. “People’re shooting,” she says.

“Who fucking cares?” Teddy says.

Mindy and Tessa’s fear swells again when the shots start. Still coiled in each other’s embrace and hunched in the road, the blue-faced children stumbling absentmindedly by them, they whimper at each other, whisper their confusion: What’s happening? What is it? I don’t want to open my eyes. Who’s shooting? What are they? Are they gone yet? They’re not gone yet? Why’s this happening? When will they leave?

“One of us has to look,” Mindy says.

Tessa says, “Sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”

The two women have their faces hidden against the other’s shoulder.

“You’re such a pussy,” says Mindy.

“And you?” Tessa asks.

Mindy nods, “I’m a pussy too.”

It’s silent a spell. Then more shots.

“Let’s both look together,” Mindy says.

Tessa nods her head into Mindy’s shoulder. “Okay,” she says.

“On three,” says Mindy.

“On three,” Tessa says.

“One, two, three…”

Old Burt, Manny and Tyler are smiling, walking weirdly through the army of children, kicking them about, firing at random. They are aloof little creatures: Old Burt sets his palm against one’s forehead and the little fella just zombie-walks in place against the force of Old Burt’s stiff arm. Tyler walks up, forces the barrel of his 9mm into the kid’s gooey mouth, pops a round that leaps out the back of the thing’s neck and zips off the concrete and catches a little brown-haired girl in the gut with a thump. The girl keeps moving, and Old Burt takes his hand off the boy’s forehead, and his noggin flops to his shoulder, but on he walks.

“Manny,” says Tessa, when she sees him.

“Hey,” Manny says, “where’d you come from?”

Tessa points to the ground.

“Watch this,” Manny says, and he puts his twelve gauge barrel against a girl’s shoulder, pulls the trigger and then the girl’s arm drops to the ground, followed by a belch of black blood. The girl keeps walking. Manny smiles at Tessa.

Mindy moves her way through the myriad children, makes her way to Old Burt and Tyler, “What is this?” she asks.

Old Burt shoots a few more kids, then flips open the cylinder of his revolver, lets the empty shell casings drop to the ground, begins to reload. “Manny’s got some Mexican word for it,” says Old Burt, “but to me, just seems like target practice.” Burt slaps the cylinder closed, shoots a few more dead kids.

Mindy flinches with each shot, hollers, “Manny?”

“Yup,” Manny says. He is handing his shotgun to Tessa.

“What the hell is this?”

Tessa shoots a boy in the face, screams, “Fun as shit, is what,” then, “Burt, give her your gun.”

Burt shrugs, holds the butt of his .38 at her.

Mindy takes it. Shoots a kid in the throat, which blows open, bits of his larynx drape from the wound drenched in black blood that glistens in the moonlight. “I don’t know,” she says, “feels wrong,” says Mindy as she watches the bleeding boy pass her.

Mindy hands the gun back to Burt. “Where are they going?” Mindy asks. She watches the backs of them, their creepy progression in the shadowy night, the woman in white now nearly out of view.

“Don’t know,” says Tyler. “Should we follow ’em?”

Old Burt says, “Might as well,” then, “almost out of bullets anyhow.”

The shots cease as the five walk along with the meandering children, following the woman in white as she makes her way from Scrape and out toward the bay.

Through slim fields of johnson grass and sand, they move on in the moonlight, quiet except for their walking. Their shadows hover dark beneath them.

When they reach the bay, the woman in white leads the children into the water.

The water is up to her knees. The water is up to her waist. The water is up to her neck. The water is over her head.

It doesn’t take as long for the children to disappear.

“Look at this fucking mess,” Blue says. He reaches down into the pile of bottles and lifts out a green one. “I ain’t never had one of these,” he says. He tries to twist the top off, but it won’t turn. It hurts his hand. He drops it. “Some other time,” he says, and he reaches for a can of Miller Lite, cracks it open, and suds foam from the mouth of it. He blows the froth to the floor, slurps his beer.

Tim is behind the counter finding cigarettes. Rob is eating chips he pilfered from a rack.

“Where’s Tessa, you think?” Blue asks.

They go into the back, but it’s vacant.

They return to the front of the store, eat, drink look at nudie mags, smoke, linger.

Teddy and Scarlett both cum again.

“Sh,” says Scarlett. “The shots have stopped.”

Teddy starts snoring.

Scarlett drops off in the music of it.

It takes half an hour for all the children to follow the woman in white out into the water. The moon shines lively on the bay, the tossing water chirping fits of light off its many crests and ebbs.

The air is salty, fresh, alive. Mindy has her shoes off, is burying her feet in the sand. Tessa is ankle-deep in the water, petting the heads of the dead children who pass her. Burt, Tyler and Manny are waiting until they can only see the backs of the children’s heads to fire.

Manny keeps missing.

“That’s why y’all lost the Alamo,” says Old Burt.

“We didn’t lose the Alamo,” says Manny.

“Then why you speaking English?” asks Old Burt.

Tyler stands up. “I’m hungry,” he says.

“Me too,” says Mindy.

Tessa looks up. “Let’s go back to the store,” she says.

“Well, God damn,” Tessa says when she sees Blue Parson slunk down in a pile of empty cans, dozing.

The noise wakes Blue, he shakes his head, blinks his eyes. “Hey, hey,” he says, lifts the can of High Gravity in his hand to his lips, sips at it.

“You drunk?” Tessa asks.

“Not all the way,” says Blue. “But more than I ain’t I guess.”

Old Burt looks for a Mexican coke that’s not cracked against the tiles.

Tyler has a Boone’s Farm.

Manny drinks Tecate.

Mindy has a Miller.

Tim has half V8 half Budweiser.

Tessa has a Boone’s Farm.

Rob Cooder eats a powdered donut. “What do you think caused it?” Rob asks, chewing as he talks, white sugar on his lips.

“Shit,” says Old Burt, “you didn’t see?”

“See what?” asks Blue.

“The woman,” says Tessa, “the kids.”

“What woman?” asks Tim, “what kids?”

“These hicks is oblivious,” says Mindy, “Couldn’t find their cocks unless they caught crabs and had to scratch.”

“Says you?” asks Blue, and the room goes awkward, because everyone knows.

Then Manny, “La Llorona.”

“La what?” asks Rob.

“The woman,” says Burt, and he eyes an undamaged Coke, plucks it from the ground and pries the top off with his lighter. The bottle bleeds suds, but he sucks them from the mouth of it, then says, “dressed in white,” he takes another sip, “the thing that was screaming,” he nods, “an unnatural noise.” 

“Yeah,” says Blue, “we heard it.”

“So loud, stole my ears,” says Tim.

“That was it,” says Tyler.

“And that wasn’t all,” says Old Burt, “she had all these zombie kids with her?”

“Brain eaters?” asks Blue.

“Nah,” says Burt, “that was the odd thing,” he laughs, “well the odd thing besides all of it,” he sips his Coke again, “they didn’t eat brains or nothing. Just walked out into the bay.” Burt motions with his Coke bottle toward the water.

Rob Cooder finishes his donut and takes a flask from his pocket. He screws the flip lid on it, sucks a sip, offers the thing toward Burt, “Wanna spike?” he asks.

“Shit,” says Burt, “I’ve had all the spikes I’ll ever need.” He pulls a chain on his neck and a medallion draws up from behind his shirt, and he lets it dangle for Cooder to see. It’s a circle with a triangle in the middle.

“What’s that?” asks Rob.

“AA,” says Mindy. “Burt don’t drink.”

“Nothing harder than cola,” Old Burt agrees. “Not for a dozen years.”

“Shit,” says Blue, “what’s the point of that,” and he chugs at his HG.

Old Burt nods at Blue, “I used the think the same,” he says.

Then Tyler says, “Hey. Y’all seen anybody else?”

Every eye in the room looks at him.

“Huh?” asks Tessa.

“Well,” says Tyler. “There’s us, right, but the whole time we were shooting, didn’t no one else come out their house. Seems odd.”