by Deyo, Jason
“We can go to the farm,” she said as she tried to fight his strong arms.
“Stop. You are being ridiculous. As long as he’s up here you know you aren’t going to go anywhere.”
“No, I’ll go. You already packed my bag.”
Keith grabbed her by the arm and pulled her past him, causing her to stumble and fall, striking her head against the bathroom doorframe. Rising to her hands and knees, she rubbed the top of her head and felt warm blood on her fingers. The sight of the blood made her weak. Amelia felt as if she could close her eyes and lay down, but the sight of Keith pulling his black bladed hunting knife from his side revitalized her.
Keith opened Jimmy’s door and revealed the pitch-black room. From within that dark hole, the darker silhouette of their son moved toward him. “This is not our son anymore babe. Our son is dead. This is one of the things out there. Our little Jimmy is dead.” He held the knife, waiting for the small ghoul to walk toward him.
Amelia charged at him, but he easily pushed her back, causing her to fall back into the bathroom. Her left shoulder struck the corner of the sink and she let out a loud moan of pain. She watched as her large husband stood in the vast dark void of her son’s room. Jimmy’s small frame disappeared into the shadow of Keith’s body.
She pushed her way back up to standing, supporting her body by putting her left hand down and feeling the tight spring of her metal scale compress as she pushed on it. She slid her slender fingers under the scale and picked it up.
“No!” she screamed, as she raised it high above her head. As Keith turned toward his son, she struck him on the back of his head with everything she could muster. The scale twang from the springs and metal smashing together, but was silenced by the dull thud of hitting Keith’s head.
Keith stumbled sideways and tried to catch his balance by holding onto the (half wall) knee wall that separated the steps from the hallway, and landed on his knees. The knife fell from his hand while he fought the darkness enclosing his vision. With support of the knee wall, he put his left leg under him and forced himself to stand.
Amelia watched Jimmy move excitedly toward his father. She noticed Keith was recovering quickly, so she raised the scale above her head again and brought it down on Keith, just as he looked up at her. He attempted to block the blow, but was too late. His face contorted with surprise, confusion, and fear. Amelia had never seen him look like that. It was new and she felt sorry for him, but she had to do it. He was going to kill her son.
Keith went limp and fell face first onto the blue carpet. Amelia stood still for a second and then realized her son was behind her. She scampered over Keith’s unconscious body and ran to her room directly down the hall. Stopping at the door of the master bedroom, she turned to see her young boy kneeling over his father and jam his head into the back of Keith’s left leg, just below his pants pocket.
Jimmy pulled up with a mouthful of denim. He tried to bite into Keith’s flesh, but only stretched his jeans. Amelia thought he was going to pull his teeth out, but then she heard a few strands rip and a visible tear exposed Keith’s bare skin.
He dove back into the leg. The ripping blue fabric was wet with blood. From the dim moonlight coming through the dirty skylight, Amelia could see more strands of denim and flesh hanging from Jimmy’s chin with each new bite.
A wave of disgust washed over Amelia, but she could not look away. This was not her son. This was an animal. He didn’t move like an eight year old. He moved like an animal devouring the prey it had just caught, moving quickly as though another creature was going to come and take it away. This creature couldn’t be free from its cage. She had to get it back into its room.
Keith was right; we should have left, she thought to herself. I can’t do this. I have to go. Her path was blocked by Keith and Jimmy in the hallway. She needed somewhere to go, but didn’t know where. I could go to the farm with the barn star, but they would know I am Keith’s wife and they would start to ask questions. They would soon find out that he was dead and… Her mind raced. She couldn’t slow it down. They would start to ask me questions.
I can’t go. I need to get him back in his room. She ended her thought abruptly.
She would have to squeeze past Jimmy to get his room. She moved, forward gently tapping Keith’s body with her foot, causing it to shake. Jimmy let out an evil growl and squeezed the leg he was consuming. The growl was more threatening than lions fighting each other over a gazelle carcass. She jumped and accidentally kicked Keith’s knife toward the master bedroom.
She grabbed one of Keith’s limp wrists and began to pull. His body started to move, then quickly stopped. She could only pull his body a few inches before the play in his loose clothing caught the carpet and would not move. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough she told herself.
Trying again, she grunted as she pulled. His body moved a few inches more, but Jimmy pulled against her and let out a demonic growl that sent chills down Amelia’s spine.
Amelia pulled again and felt Keith’s wrist stiffen. His hand made a fist and then was yanked out of her hands. He let out a blood-curdling scream and twisted his body, rolling onto his back. Jimmy rode his leg, rolling with him, continuing to hold on.
Keith pushed at Jimmy’s hands, trying to pry them from his leg, and then let out another scream as Jimmy bit him again. “Em, help!” he screamed. “Help me!” Jimmy began to climb around his leg and bit into the front of his hip, mostly biting denim.
Amelia didn’t know what to do. She was happy he was alive so he could take her to that farm. She began to move forward, not knowing how to help, but was prepared to do something. “Your knife,” she said, but not loud enough for him to hear. She grabbed the Ka-Bar. The knife felt good in her hand. It had weight to it and the handle felt as if it was designed to specifically fit her small hands.
She was about to give it to him when he punched the top of Jimmy’s head. Jimmy looked up at him, as he climbed his body and Keith punched him in the face. His head snapped back, but he continued to move forward, biting into his stomach. The thin cloth of his cotton T-shirt provided little protection and his teeth buried deep into his flesh.
Keith pulled Jimmy’s head up by his hair, revealing his childish face, marred with evil and blood, and punched him with his right hand. The chill in Amelia’s spine turned into hot coals. He was hitting her son. He was hitting her boy. Keith turned his head and saw Amelia holding his black knife.
“Give it to me, Em!” He reached out with his right hand and then screamed as Jimmy’s wet hair slipped through his fingers, and Jimmy bit into his stomach. He immediately grabbed his hair again and returned to punching him. The small creature did not try and block the blows, but forced his head down toward the badly bleeding stomach.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Stop hitting my son!” She couldn’t believe what she was screaming. She knew what was happening and she knew why, but that creature was her son. Keith looked back at her with surprise and began to stand up.
He made it to his feet and as Jimmy lunged for another bite, he grabbed his neck with his left hand and pushed his head back. Jimmy gnashed his teeth as he tried to move closer to his victim. Keith put Jimmy’s back against the knee wall. If he could break Jimmy’s grip, Keith planned to drop him over the side and down the steps.
Amelia immediately recognized what he was trying to do. He stretched his left arm out, pushing the boy’s head away, and pushed his body with his right arm. The creature was incredibly strong, but the boy’s arms slowly began to lose their grip from around his body. Keith bent Jimmy’s body over the knee wall.
Amelia continued to scream, “Stop!” She didn’t realize she was still screaming until she plunged the eight-inch blade into Keith’s ribs. It was quick and easy. The knife moved smoothly and deeply without resistance. She pushed the blade in until it stopped at the hilt. Once it struck the hilt, she pulled it out immediately.
Keith’s left arm recoiled, releasing Jimmy’s neck. The creatu
re did not hesitate to bite into Keith’s right collarbone. He still had strength in his body, but could feel it seeping away. He started breathing hard and he dropped to one knee, facing Amelia. Jimmy immediately began to wrestle him to the ground, forcing him to fall backward.
He propped himself up and looked at her. His face showed no emotion. His eyebrows did not furrow in anger nor did his eyes look sad. There was nothing there when he looked at her. Keith knew he was dying and who had done it. As his lung filled with blood, his breathing became labored. He coughed up a small fountain of blood, and then lost the will to sit up. Soon he lost the will to live.
Amelia watched in disbelief. For the second time she had killed her husband, but this time there was no coming back. She had nowhere to go and no one to help her now. The one thing she knew was that Jimmy could not be allowed to stay outside his room.
Keith’s feet were now facing her. During the fight he had moved closer to the master bedroom. Amelia did not think she could drag both of them into Jimmy’s room, even though dragging him along the smooth wood laminate flooring of the master bedroom would be a whole lot easier than the carpet. Once she had dragged them into her bedroom, she would use the bottom closet to pull Keith into Jimmy’s room.
She had a better grip holding onto his large work boots and was able to stand between his legs and pick them up. She made little progress, not only because was she fighting the dead weight of her husband, but also because the savage animal believed its pray was trying to get away. After fighting inch by inch over the carpet, dragging them across the linoleum seemed like ice. She slid Keith’s body in front of the closet and unceremoniously dropped him.
Sliding the shoe closet open, she looked at clear bins containing her long sleeved shirts and winter outfits. She pulled them out and pushed them out of the way across the smooth floor. Next was her two pair of four hundred dollar Lucchese cowgirl boots. She shoved them out of the way to fit Keith’s large body.
She turned to the animal that was devouring her husband. It had apparently lost interest in its meal, because it made eye contact with her. The small creature easily pushed itself from his father and climbed over him toward his mother.
She had her back against the closet. If she tried to scurry away she knew it would grab her by the legs and then make her its new victim. She grabbed Keith’s leg and was going to use it to create distance between them, but the creature immediately turned its attention back to the man he had been consuming and bit into his right thigh.
Amelia slid up the closet and ran out of her room to the top of the stairs. She thought about how she was going to get the two of them back into her son’s room. After pushing the boots out of the way, she realized the bottom section of closet was too small for her to physically pull Keith’s massive frame through; she had a hard enough time pulling him down the hall.
She walked through her son’s room, kicking toys and clothing in the dark. She got to the closet and slowly slid it open. His side was just as full as hers, except he had board games of all types instead of boots. She quickly pulled the games from the closet, sending small chips, blocks, and plastic figurines sprawling across the floor. She moved the closets center patrician and three large windows, from the master bedroom, allowed the moon to shine through and made it possible to see. Her son was directly on the other side of the closet, still devouring her husband’s leg. She returned to the stairs and thought about what to do next.
She pictured her husband pulling the engine out of one of his junk cars with a ratchet-style chain hoist. The chain on the hoist was long and could easily pull her husband across the floor. If she attached it to the radiator she could pull him through the closet and into her son’s room.
Running down the steps, she grabbed the lantern Keith had placed on the table and descended into the basement. She rummaged through all of her husband’s tools and found the dirty orange lever chain fall resting in a tangled mess in the bottom drawer of his toolbox. She struggled to hold the lantern and prevent the chain of the chain fall from beating on the steps.
Using the lantern to illuminate the small room, she attached the chain fall’s hook to the radiator directly across from the closet, and began to feed out the chain. Once all the chain was released she took the hook and dragged it across the room and through the bottom closet.
She was going to have to get close to her son, but fortunately he was facing away from her, chewing on the same leg. Amelia could tell he was losing interest because he was slowing down. She slowly inched her way closer to Keith on her hands and knees and slid the hook under his neck. She was careful not to disturb the beast with her movements. She was not that far from him and he had lost interest once. She slipped the hook under and around Keith’s neck, hooking it onto itself.
While she was climbing from the closet her back bumped the top of it, catching the attention of her son. He immediately turned toward her and began to pursue her. She ran back to the radiator and began to ratchet the lever, creating tension in the chain around Keith’s neck. The chain was pulled tight as Jimmy climbed from the closet. She quickly ratcheted the lever, stretching her husband’s body and neck, but Jimmy did not seem to notice. She pulled it again, fast and hard, jolting her husband’s body over the board games. This time her son noticed the movement and returned to the body.
She continued to pull until it was in the middle of the room. She sat on top of the radiator in silence and watched her son—or what used to be her son.
Chapter 6
“You’re not alone.”
Amelia sat on the loveseat in her living room, waiting for the sun to rise. She sat back from the front window and watched as the occasional dark figure came down the road. It was easy to believe they were people simply walking down the street when there was no light to reveal their true features. Many of them walked like regular people, but then there was always one that walked with a limp or dragged its leg.
She was surprised to see a few who crawled more quickly than some of the ones who were standing and walking. The crawlers would sometimes stop and try to stand, but then immediately fall. It was as if they forgot why they were crawling. One did nothing but attempt to stand over and over again. It would prop its hands under itself, stand, take a step, and fall onto its face. It repeated this countless times in front of Amelia’s window, eventually making its way out of view.
As the sun began to rise, she realized she never fell back asleep. She knew Jimmy had finished eating because she heard dull thud after dull thud, one after another, in a constant rhythmic beat. The bass of the thuds on the ceiling played repeatedly in Amelia’s head; one and two and three and moan.
Amelia pictured her son walking back and forth, breathing in heavily and exhaling a deep long moan. When Jimmy would reach a wall he would stop and scratch the wall. Then another step, step, step, moan followed by the faint and hollow sound of her son’s hands clawing on the closet separating the two rooms.
This routine continued for hours. The pattern never changed. And then something happened.
Amelia looked up, eyes fixed on the ceiling waiting for the change to repeat itself. Step, step, step, moan, step, step, step, moan. She strained her ears wanting to hear what she thought she heard. Did she hear her son call for her? She could have sworn he called, “Mom.” The house was utterly silent with the exception of the rhythmic stepping.
“Jimmy,” Amelia said softly. The volume of her voice was barely loud enough for her to hear let alone her son upstairs. She cleared her throat, covering her mouth with her hand as if she had just screamed. “Jimmy,” she said, marginally louder.
Walking to the stairs, she crawled up the first four, straining to listen for his reaction. All she heard was the same step, step, step, moan. She climbed up the steps, leaning forward and using her hands to help her move as if she were stalking prey. With each step she listened. Standing in front of her son’s door she put her hand on the crack that ran down the middle. He continued to walk back and forth.
“Jimmy darling,” Amelia said, pressing her face close to the crack as if her voice would carry through it.
Step, step, and then nothing.
“Jimmy, I’m here for you baby,” she said through the crack.
The steps were faster now and the low moan of boredom turned into a groan of excited frustration. All of the stepping, clawing, and scratching sounds suddenly moved from the closet to the bedroom door, startling Amelia.
She jumped back. “No, Jimmy. It’s me. It’s your Mommy.” She put both of her hands on the door in anguish. She hung her head, feeling her Jimmy’s small hands beat on the door. Falling to her knees, she listened to the pounding and slid her back against the wall. She sat and examined her left foot resting in Keith’s drying blood.
She put her face in her hands and closed her eyes. Amelia felt the vibration of Jimmy’s relentless barrage through the wall. Opening her eyes she inspected Keith’s smeared blood. She followed the crimson trail through the hallway and spread across the wood laminate flooring of the master bedroom. She slid back up the wall and walked past Jimmy’s bedroom into the bathroom.
Opening the double doors to the pantry she rifled through a stack of multicolored towels. Looking for the oldest and darkest one, she pulled a light purple one from the bottom of the stack. She submerged the towel in the bathtub, allowing it to absorb the water. Holding it above the water, she lightly wrung the excess back into the tub. Rolling the towel so she did not drip on the bathroom floor she moved to the drying blood.
Amelia wrung the towel out firmly, letting the water fall and creating a pool of blood and water. She got onto her hands and knees and began to gently rub the blood. Slowly making small circles working the water into the crusting blood, the circles began to get larger. The rubbing became harder and faster, and the circles turned into forceful up and down strokes. She grabbed the towel with both hands and pushed it as hard as she could into the carpet. Then pulled back just as hard, forcing the water out of the towel and pushing the pool of bloody water to her knees. The water and blood mixture stained the knees of her grey leggings.
