Uneasy Reading: 4 Horror Shorts (3 page)

The boy didn't seem to notice the bodies. Or
at least he didn't pay any attention to them. His dead eyes stared
at Martin instead.

"This is Micah," Cassie said.

Martin nodded at the boy. He knew what was
coming next. "What's your deal, kid?"

Micah didn't say anything. He just looked up
at Cassie, who smiled down at him.

"Micah's parents had a friend named Xavier,"
Cassie said.

"Let me guess," Martin said. The smell
wasn't bothering him as much now, and he was already trying to
figure out the best way to get blood off of knives and saws. He'd
need them. "Xavier was not a nice man?"

"He lives in San Antonio. Micah says Xavier
stashes cash at his house from drug sales. It'll be enough money to
last you for a long time so we can keep this up. We could drive
there in a few days; the three of us," Cassie said. "Then take care
of Xavier."

"Like an undead family road trip," Martin
said. He walked over and started to gather his tools. He thought it
odd that he was already thinking of them as
his
tools.
Working as a serial killer for hire in the service of vengeful
ghosts was going to be a dangerous business.

Rorschach's
Vampires

Inky blobs hovered in the periphery of
Gordon's vision, becoming clearer and more stable as each second
passed. Stringy tentacles dripped viscous ink onto the break room's
shining linoleum floor. Gordon swallowed hard and watched the
hypnotic dance of the floating
things
: they moved and
shimmered as the light hit them. He could almost hear them
whispering to him.

Shelly couldn’t see them, of course. At
least Gordon didn’t think that she could, because no one else had.
If she had been able to see the globules, he was sure she would've
mentioned them. After all, it wasn't everyday that shape-shifting
inkblots filled the office lunchroom.

"Shame we had to come in on a Saturday,"
Shelly said. She stirred her coffee and looked at him with dull
eyes. It was just the two of them in the office today.

"It happens," Gordon said. "It could be
worse."

"How are those little ones of yours?" Shelly
asked. She took a big, noisy slurp of coffee that Gordon was sure
had more sugar than liquid in it. He'd seen her dump at least a
dozen spoonfuls of sugar and about a quarter cup of creamer into
it.

She took another gulp while she waited for
his answer. This time some of the coffee dribbled down her chin,
where it slithered into the thick folds of her neck. She didn't
bother to wipe it away. An inkblot that resembled a pig hovered
near her left ear, dripping gobs of black ooze onto her pink
blouse.

"Gordon, I asked you how the little ones
are," she said again. Her words were louder and slower this time,
as though he were too dense to understand her. "The babes… how are
they?"

He realized she meant his children. He'd
almost forgotten all about them. They were gone, that's how they
were. The hungry ink demanded it. They'd been marked just like the
sow Shelly was marked now.

God, he hated small talk, and that's all
office life was. No one really cared how other people were doing.
They just asked the same inane questions day after day and made the
same observations.
Of course
no one liked sitting in a cube.
Of course
everyone wanted more money.
Of course
everyone wanted better healthcare.
Of course
everyone wanted
to be someone and wanted recognition for something beyond how well
they could file paperwork. Bitching about it every damned day in
the office wasn't going to make anything change. Gordon knew that.
He knew that he had to make his own changes. The ink showed him
that much. The ink showed him lots of things.

A dripping ebon skill flickered to lift in
front of his eyes and then drifted over to Shelly's shoulder, where
it absorbed the inky pig. Gordon knew that that meant. It was time
to get to work.

He fingered the knife in his pocket. It was
still sticky from the
babes,
as Shelly had called them.
Gordon smiled at Shelly: she smiled dumbly and blissfully back at
him. The ink began to quiver with what Gordon imagined was
excitement. They knew what was coming next, and Gordon suddenly
realized that he was shaking as well.

The smile remained on Shelly's face until
Gordon sliced into her. He spent a good twenty minutes cutting
through her fatty tissue and slicing open arteries and veins so she
could bleed out onto the floor. The blood pooled around her and the
ink went to work lapping up her blood. The more they drank the
larger they grew, and now Gordon could hear them whispering more
clearly.

Yes, Gordon thought as he listened. The ink
was right. A few more like Shelly and the babes, and he would
certainly get recognition for more than just his filing skills.

Worst Thing I Ever
Did

I've done rotten things. I've cheated at
cards, and I cheated on my first and my third wife. I even stole a
car once. Hell, the car thing was right after the undead started
all their shit, so you really can't blame me for that. I imagine
just about everyone who is still alive stole plenty. Everyone was
looting. It was just the new nature of the world, man. That's all.
So I never really did feel too bad about any of that. I mean, it
isn't as if I felt like I needed to confess to those things or
anything like that. They were just part of who I am, good and bad,
warts and all.

I never really did think I was evil though:
at least, not until a few hours ago. Don't worry; I'll get to the
meat of it quick enough.

This morning, I headed out of the bunker to
scavenge for grub with Spanks. It was our turn. You know Spanks,
don't you? He's the greasy little guy with the doughy face and the
droopy eyes. We went out toward the East Side, where we thought
that maybe some of the stores would have a little something left.
We never got that far.

About half a dozen rots came tearing out of
the deli over on Altamont and that coward Spanks turned and ran.
I'll be honest. I thought about putting a bullet in his back for
leaving me like that. It turns out I didn't have to do anything.
The fool ran right into the clawing arms and gnashing teeth of
another zombie that he didn't even notice. The rots that were after
me must've thought Spanks looked more appetizing, because they let
me go and tore into him instead.

I left the idiot to die. The damn zombies
already bit him, so what could I do to help? Everyone knows that
after a bite the virus hits the bloodstream fast. He would've
turned into one of those things in a matter of hours.

Yeah, I know it was probably a shit move on
my part. But that wasn't the worst thing I ever did.

You see, when I was tousling with the rots
up there, one of them bit me too. I didn't even notice it at first.
It's just a little bite, a love nip really. I covered the wound
before I came back to the shelter and you let me in without
checking me. Thank you for that, by the way.

But I can already feel the virus working
inside of me. You can lie and tell me that it's just my
imagination, but we both know better than that, don't we? I mean, I
already tied you up before I told you my story. I have an urge to
bite you, but I'm doing my best to fight it. Honestly I am.

So, now you know the worst thing I ever
did.

Hey, now that I think about it, I guess
letting me back inside is the worst thing
you
ever did,
isn't it? I never thought I'd have something in common with my
food.

God's Food: A
Twisted Fairy Tale

(Based on the Brothers Grimm story of the
same name)

1.

Once upon a time there were two sisters. The
youngest of the sisters was a widow, and she spent her days caring
for her five children in a ramshackle cottage deep in the Great
Wood. Her name was Bonnie. Her elder sister Griselda was childless.
She had married a wealthy man and moved out of the thick and
tangled woods long ago.

Widow Bonnie loved her children deeply, but
finding food was difficult. The forest had not been offering its
usual bounty and Bonnie could not forage enough to satisfy her
little ones' hunger, nor the gnawing pain that tore at her own
belly. It was a dark time for her, but she was sure that her sister
would show her kindness. One should always be able to rely upon
their own flesh and blood for help.

Bonnie set out from her little house in the
late afternoon with her five children following along behind like
emaciated ducklings. They arrived at Griselda's manor house and
sprawling grounds shortly before the sun started to set and great
black clouds filled the sky. They heralded the approach of a
storm.

A servant in a coat with gold frocking
answered the door, but he did not let Bonnie and her children
inside. Instead, he told them to wait on the step and he would
fetch the lady of the house. Griselda came to the door bedecked in
jewels, wearing a sneer on her skeletal face.

"My children and I have nothing," Bonnie
said. "We are suffering from the greatest hunger we've ever known
and we will certainly die without your help."

"I've nothing to give," Griselda said.

"But you are rich," Bonnie replied. "You
must have a mouthful of bread for my children at least. They are
your nieces and nephews."

"You are a wretch, and they are nothing but
brats who will become dregs much like their dead father. I've
nothing for any of you. Go back to your hovel where you belong and
never return here."

With tears in her eyes and pain in her
stomach, Bonnie led her starving children away from the manor and
back along the trail in the woods. The clouds above grew darker and
ate away the last remaining bits of sunshine.

2.

Perth Innes, Griselda's fat and wealthy
husband, returned home a few hours later and brought with him a
ravenous appetite. Thunder rumbled in the distance: rain would soon
begin to fall. He arrived at his doorstep just in time to avoid the
heavenly downpour.

Griselda told him about her sister's visit
to the house earlier and together they laughed at her
misfortune.

"She never should've married a woodcutter,"
Perth said, and Griselda agreed. It was Bonnie's own fault that she
and her brood were without a father and husband to provide for
them. The wolves were to thank for that.

Perth laughed again when he thought of the
raging storm outside and of his homely sister-in-law stuck in that
little shack, which he imagined was full of leaks. He chuckled
merrily as he cut into the loaf of bread that he and Griselda were
going to have with their dinner. As the blade bit into the crust,
the bread began to bleed. The blood oozed out freely, covering
Perth's hands and the table.

"Have you cut yourself?" Griselda asked.
Open-mouthed and pale, she stared at Perth's red hands.

Perth shook his head. He tried to wipe the
blood onto his trousers but it wouldn’t come off. "Not me," he
said. "It is the bread."

"Rubbish," Griselda said. "It can't be the
bread. I baked it myself."

She grabbed another loaf and took a
different knife. She sliced into the bread and it began to bleed as
well. Soon the redness covered her bony hands too.

"Strange," Perth said.

"The servants must've done this somehow.
We'll have them flayed!"

Perth looked to his wife. "This is God's
doing. He did this because you turned your sister and her children
away when they were hungry."

"Impossible," she said.

"Yet our hands are covered in blood."

Griselda didn't say anything. She just
stared at her hands.

"I'll get them. I'll bring them here and
we'll feed them and make this right," Perth said.

Griselda nodded.

3.

Perth hurried through the rain and gloom.
The occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the path that led
into the Great Forest. He eventually reached the little patchwork
cottage at the heart of the woods. A single lamp's light burned
inside.

When he entered the house, he saw Bonnie
sitting on the dirt floor weeping and praying. The three oldest of
her children lay dead on the floor around her. Their skin was
already graying. She held the two smaller children in her arms and
hugged them tight to her. Her eyes were sunken and her skin
sallow.

"We did this to you," Perth said. "Come to
our home and we will feed you."

"No earthly food will sustain us," Bonnie
said through her tears. "We do not desire it any longer. God as
provided for us as I knew He would."

"I can help you," Perth said.

"You will," she replied. "So will my sweet
sister."

Perth could now see that the children on the
floor – the dead ones – had bite marks on their arms. The bites
looked human, though they were very small, as if a child had made
them. When Perth looked back to Bonnie, he could see that the
children she held in her arms had their mouths to their mother's
breasts. They were biting, not suckling. Bonnie looked up at him
with dead eyes and a smile.

The dead children on the floor began to
move. They sat up and fixed their eyes on Perth. The one nearest to
him lunged with his teeth bared, sinking them into Perth's
hand.

Perth squealed and yanked his hand away. A
large chunk of flesh was missing, and he could see clear to the
bone. The children lurched to their feet and came toward him with
arms outstretched and hungry mouths wide open.

4.

Griselda watched out the front window for
hours. Perth would be bringing them back soon and then God would
forgive them. She feared God's wrath even more than she loathed the
thought of her wretched sister and her dull-witted children inside
her home.

She finally saw them when a flash of
lightning from the heavens lit up the field. Seven figures walked
lazily across the grounds toward the house. Griselda hurried to the
door and removed the lock so everyone could come inside and have
something to eat.