The Drumhead

by Richard Correll

  It was the comforter she had seen earlier. It was in stark contrast with its cartoon characters to the bed spread. Two tiny feet lay uncovered where the comforter ended. The shoes were those safety runners that every child wore after dark with flickering lights. Now, the feet were motionless. Cradling part of the comforter in her arms was the woman Brenda had pulled from the SUV at the bridge. Dark circles were now peaking out of her make-up and her eyes betrayed near panic while her voice was just an octave above a whisper.

  “He’s just been sleeping that’s’ all.” She looked up at Brenda while she was stroking a barely visible forehead that was buried in the blanket. “Nothing’s wrong, really.”

  Maggie had an eerie feeling start between her shoulders and move in all directions while she watched the woman. It was like someone had poured a cup full of spiders on her back. It was in her lungs before she knew it. Maggie could feel her breath grow short as she, Myers and Voorhees felt hypnotized by the scene before them.

  Maggie’s eyes widened to the point of pain. The running shoes flashed briefly. It moved.

  “Brenda,” Maggie spoke hoarsely and then repeated herself in a louder voice. “Brenda, take her away from here.”

  Brenda turned toward Maggie with eyes searching for an answer. They locked with Maggie for a second before she gave a stiff, frigid nod of her head. Brenda was at the side of the bed in slow motion, her hands reached out to the woman’s shoulder.

  “Miss, “ Brenda whispered in a shaking tone. “I need you to come with me.”

  “What?” The woman’s face was incomprehension. “Why? NO!”

  “….Please, come with me.”

  The shoes illuminated briefly again like blood red warning lights.

  “Esterhaus!“ At the mention of his name he had elbowed past Maggie and took a firmer grip of the mother than Brenda had wanted to. The woman’s hands flew up in front of her as if to ward of incoming blows. “What are you going to do!?” She demanded.

  Another flicker of light, longer this time.

  “Hey,” the husband’s voice was a confused tone as he stepped forward from the window. For a moment his hands seemed to want to reach out and grab Esterhaus as he struggled with his wife. But his instincts held back for a moment. “What are you doing?”

  Moshood encircled his arms around the man’s chest from behind. With a grunt he lifted him off his feet. The husband was about 170 pounds but Moshood had surprise and leverage on his side. Maggie pressed herself against the cheap wallpaper as Moshood carried the man into the hallway.

  The husband and Maggie caught each other’s eyes for a moment. He knows, Maggie realized. He understands. Still, he had to say:

  “What are you doing?” Hope against hope. Please don’t make this be real, tell me this is not happening. His eyes pleaded as he barely struggled under Moshood’s grip.

  “Stop it! He needs me!” The mother was now away from the bed and struggling with Brenda and Esterhaus. Brenda finally slipped the left arm of the woman behind her back and bent it. She howled in pain and began to obey the movement toward the door. As she brushed by, Myers began to step into the room toward the child, Maggie held out her hand to block the way.

  “No.” She spoke in a frigid whisper. Myers turned toward his commander with a wide, ashen look. Maggie paused before taking a step forward.

  Then, the blanket hissed.

  Maggie’s eyes went wide as she could feel the very fine hairs on her arms untangle themselves and stand straight up. She could feel pressure building on her eye sockets from how wide they had become. A strange, quivering began in her knees and worked its’ way up to her lower lip. Oh god, she kept repeating. Oh god………………

  The sneakers were now beating a blood red rhythm. A small hand snaked out of the comforter and seemed to tap out an epileptic Morse code on the orange bed sheet for a hyper second before a louder hiss escaped from the covers. The little comforter heaved like a slug was moving underneath it. A pain in Maggie’s chest reminded her to breath. She gave out a sudden gasp as her mouth dropped open.

  Then, it sat up.

  The comforter fell away from the face revealing brown, tousled hair. He had a round face that could have been every mother’s dream had it not been for the eyes. The whites had been replaced by a thick yellow puss color that gave the pupils an unearthly intensity. The mouth twisted into an expression that seemed more at home on a rabid animal. The torso twisted like a devil doll puppet and the feet touched the floor.

  For a long second the child seemed to look at the spot on the carpet where his feet had planted themselves. Then, the neck contorted and twisted as he turned to look at Maggie just a few feet away. The nostrils flared as it inhaled to gather in its’ surroundings. Then, the yellow in its eyes seemed to take on a deeper color as they narrowed. They became wider and more lucid as it locked its’ stare on Maggie. The lips seemed to slice open like a huge wound. The mouth became so large it seemed to push into the eyes.

  Hunger. Maggie would have taken a step back if she could. Her feet were suddenly part of the floor as it stood up and began to move in her direction. The steps seemed grotesquely out of sync. The legs seemed to be stiff and wooden. It almost appeared like it was walking on stilts. Six feet away, a hiss escaped its’ lips and the hands clawed at the air just in front of Maggie. She cringed, hypnotized by the yellow mustard colored eyes. A sound escaped its mouth that was part growl and an echo that was once human. Maggie was suddenly aware of something in her right hand.

  It was like a blink in time. An instant of blackness that sent everything into oblivion for a second and then returned it all in a chaotic state. Suddenly, Maggie opened her eyes. The room felt like all the air had been sucked out of it. Perhaps it had. She distantly thought. Maybe every molecule of oxygen had been taken up as those around her inhaled and prepared to scream.

  Her left hand held the tiny form by his neck. Her thumb had pressed into the lower jaw to tilt the face slightly upward. The right hand gripped her knife that had been plunged into the child’s left eye. The blade had burrowed a good four inches into the socket. Amber colored liquid mixed with blood traced a path down his cheek and dripped into an ever widening stain on the carpet. The menacing teeth had disappeared into a facial expression that was passive. It was almost like he had fallen asleep.

  “YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU KILLED HIM!!”

  Two hands pummeled the back of Maggie’s head weakly as the mother broke away from Brenda. In her surprise, Maggie released the tiny form and it tumbled on top of the stain on the carpet. The form had almost landed in a fetal position as Maggie stumbled forward into the room.

  “BURN IN HELL, BITCH!” The voice hit a hysterical octave and she crashed to her knees. Esterhaus and Voorhees were on top of her now. The woman seemed suddenly unaware of Maggie as her eyes turned to the small form on the carpet just five feet away. She stretched a free hand out to try and touch one of his feet. The sneakers were now unlit, dead to the world.

  “Noooooo!!” A wail escaped her lips that hung in the air. It terminated into a long sob.

  Maggie could only stare at her in shock. The room felt cold. Her senses were incoherent. Like her feelings had been partially lost along the way. She tried to reconstruct the moment by moving from face to face in the room. The father had gone pale. His mouth opened and closed every few seconds. Beside him, Moshood’s eyes were speckled in shock as he stared at the small child on the carpet. Like Maggie he had gone cold. Voorhees had a wild, desperate look in her eyes as she held the mother down with the help of Esterhaus. He was facing the bedroom door, but Maggie guessed Esterhaus had the same look. She already knew what he was feeling. God, he loved his children. Maggie suddenly felt a burning sensation in her right hand. Did I really do this? Her thoughts had a hard time slowing down. Oh god, did I really do this?

  Now you know how bad it can get, an insane voice inside her said.

  “We need to keep her quiet.” Did I really just say that? Maggie felt like
a third party to her actions. “If we don’t keep her quiet they will hear her.”

  They……

  Voorhees looked at Maggie for a minute before nodding her head. She began to cup her hand over the woman’s mouth. She responded by snapping at Voorhees. “Somebody get me a towel.” Voorhees turned toward the hallway where a few people had gathered. Myers ducked into the bathroom and returned with an orange face cloth. Of course, it had to be orange. Maggie’s thoughts continued on their incoherent way.

  The facecloth was pressed into the mother’s mouth as Voorhees whispered something in her ear. She struggled and shook her head between sobs while Brenda continued a slow monologue that Maggie could not make out. The room suddenly took on a surreal silence. It had a palatable atmosphere now. What was that? What the fuck was that?

  *

  The couch betrayed its’ age by sheer weight. Symons and Bradley strained to bring the piece of furniture up to sit vertically in the foyer. Thank god they liked high ceilings back then, Symons mused. The shadows in the lobby seemed to play with them. They appeared to move at the corner of your eye. But when you turned to confront them they became inanimate. Brett was certain that it was just paranoia that made him feel the shadows were a foot closer since the last time he checked on them. Still, a city in the throes of silence was a veritable playground for the warped side of his imagination. He tried to concentrate on the real world.

  “YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU KILLED HIM!!”

  “Fuck!” Symons whispered uncontrollably. Bradley froze and his mouth dropped open as his head turned abruptly to face the Sergeant. They both became ice, cold and motionless, joining the shadows in their immutable silence.

  An outline passed close to the entrance. Symons and Bradley slid down behind the large couch and collectively stopped breathing. They listened as it hissed slowly. Something was in the air. It could smell a tell-tale aroma. A speck of perspiration perhaps or the warm taste of blood. It didn’t matter. It was a trail to be followed, dictated by hunger and instinct. The eyes of the thing did a slow scan to the bus and then the street. Finally, it turned to the full length window of the hotel entrance. There, it sniffed the air and could just taste its prey. A long, thin stream of saliva escaped its lower lip and stained the pavement below. There, the senses re-affirmed, something had been here as the cold hands played over the window. The fingertips were dead. The sensation of touch was gone. But it could still make out the

  difference between the texture of the wooden part of the door and the glass in the center. Slowly, the cold appendages began to search for a crack to exploit.

  Symons stared at the silhouette as he forced himself to exhale slowly and quietly. If more of them came, the door would not hold. Brett had no idea how good its’ hearing was so he decided to err on the side of caution. Symons could feel Bradley’s fear. The private looked at him with wild eyes. Jesus, it knows we’re here!

  Under no circumstances are you to open fire at any time…Symons could swear he almost heard Maggie whisper in his ear. Brett raised his hand to Bradley; stay cool, stay quiet. Just hold your position. They could hear the hands scratching at the spot where the glass and wood intersected.

  BAM!

  The fist of the thing connected with the door and it shook. Symons felt his eyes widen when he heard the pane of glass rattle. He was suddenly aware of his knife, a quiet way to kill. He concentrated hard. Cut the throat? The idea caught him off guard and made him stop breathing a second time. After all, training for hand to hand combat was one thing………

  BAM!

  The idea of cutting through living tissue and bone made him swallow hard. His hand touched the knife on his belt. It suddenly felt so small. He looked over at Bradley and raised his palm in the air a second time. Stay cool. Stay quiet. This time he noticed the outline of his hand wavering in the shadows. The thing at the door seemed to pause for a moment. Symons and Bradley could not see it step back and regard its’ surroundings for an infinitesimal minute. The head cocked to the right and left. Perhaps it was its fist hitting the door or its’ own movement. But, the scent seemed to have taken flight. It searched the sidewalk before raising the puss yellow eyes and slowly scanning its environment.

  It had to be here somewhere……….

  It turned slowly toward State Street. The movements were deliberate and careful. It took time to sniff the air every few steps to try and reacquaint itself with the lost trail of its prey. The left hand slowly reached out and caressed the side of the bus as it lurched forward. After a few steps it paused and tested the air again. The left hand that had touched the bus was sniffed for any tell tale signs of its quarry. A blackened tongue slipped out of its mouth and carefully ran itself over the cold fingertips. It tasted car exhaust and pollution without knowing what it was. Its’ only reaction to it being: no……………

  But there, deep down in the aromatic foliage was ………something. The wormlike tongue tasted the finger tips again. Yes……….

  It concluded by instinct they had not gone far. The scent was small but very recent. It moved forward and watched for ……..it had no words for it. It was just the thing that it had to consume. It was the thing that made its hunger rage. This way, the feet shuffled toward State Street and then turned right.

  They lay in the dark for several minutes after it had left. Once, Pinder peeked his head through the coffee shop door and was waved away. The first thing to come back to normal was their breathing. Brett spied around the massive, overstuffed barricade. There was no sound, the sidewalk and bus appeared normal except for smudges that seemed to be the finger paintings of a careless child. He nodded to Bradley and Symons slowly inched the big piece of furniture across the room to soundlessly press against the door frame. He nodded to the private and put his finger to his lips for silence. This would end as quietly as it began.

  *

  When Maggie slowly made her way back down the corridor to the cafeteria it was like sleepwalking. Did I just do that? She couldn’t stop thinking. Did I really just fucking do that? Her feet seemed to settle on nothingness as she kept her waxen face lowered to the floor. A voice from the past found a weakness and slithered into her thoughts. No one’s gonna believe you, bitch. The child’s face was suddenly occupying her thoughts. As the red and yellow mucous river flowed down his cheek from the knife wound in his eye, a smile etched on his innocent face.

  Maggie looked up for a second as she passed by Chalmers guarding the fire escape. His face was loaded for bear with anxiety. Someone had probably said something to him. The emotion in his eyes was a question mark within concern. Are you okay? She almost heard him say. I need you to be okay. Maggie took a deep breath and slipped into her best poker face and looked at him. Her eyes became sharper, her pace quickened into every step re-affirming her resolve. I’m okay, Maggie nodded as she passed by. We got this.

  Yes, ma’am. He nodded back.

  ‘You guys aren’t gonna like this.” It was Bestoni, his voice sounded tired. It was like a worn out tone of a band that was coming to the end of a long march. Pinder was the first over to where he was sitting. Maggie took her time as she crossed her arms and slowly made her way across the room. Sorry, almost at my limit of shitty news for the day. Her face slit into a smirk at the thought.

  “You guys ready for this?” Bestoni looked around for an authoritative face to tell him what to do next.

  “Go ahead, Mr. Bestoni.” It was Pinder. The timbre was a man expecting the worst. Join the fucking club. Maggie felt a million miles away. At Pinder’s half hearted urging Bestoni nodded to his daughter and she tapped her phone. After a second or two her forefinger went into overdrive to increase the volume.

  “….and Miami along with Detroit, St. Louis, Boston, New York and…….” A man with a shock of white hair and much whiter face paused to turn over some papers. After a second, he just looked up and continued to address the room. “The full list of cities is available at your local news source.”

  Maggie fin
ally stood behind a little boy of thirteen who was holding up his twisted legs on metal crutches. She peaked over his shoulder and felt a dagger slip into her heart and a black bile of rage pour through her veins. She wanted to scream profanities at the screen. A thousand came to mind but none could portray what she was feeling inside as she looked at the banner line below the speaker:

  EVACUATION OF CHICAGO COMPLETED TWO HOURS AGO.

  “We’re…….” A voice spoke up and then cracked. After a second it began again “We’re all alone aren’t we?”

  “The fucking bastard,” It was Symons, Maggie turned to him and saw the ferocity in his eyes. “He left us here.”