by Matt James
I stop in my tracks and face him. “You did what?”
Dad’s face falls. “Oh… I thought Mom told you. She slipped a few of her pills into Jill’s tea.”
I want to be angry, but if I had the prescriptive strength of Mom’s muscle relaxers, I’d have done the same for my wife. She, more than anyone, needs a good long rest.
“Fine, but one of you needs to come clean when she wakes up.”
We spend the next couple of minutes checking the neighbors’ homes for break-ins, new and old. The first of them is full of death. The next one is locked tight and peaceful. No one is around that I would call “friendly,” though.
Three houses away, we’re forced to take cover in the bushes at the front of the home. A series of grunts and growls alerts us to the incoming creatures, and we barely make it before they show their ugly mugs.
Four goblins scurry by, not fifteen feet away from our position. I’m shocked that they didn’t notice us immediately, but we aren’t the only ones around. Another person is making his way down the road. Dad and I plan to on simply taking the shirtless man down from behind but are forced into hiding when we hear a small group approach.
The guy is fifty feet further down Sanctuary Way before he notices that he isn’t alone. Then, we get a light show like like none I've ever seen before. The Unseen, the burner, begins to glow from the inside out. It starts in his chest cavity, specifically his heart. Next, the combustible energy makes its way through his torso and limbs, pulsating with every beat of his heart.
I can literally see his glowing heart beating from here.
The goblins react and charge the lone Unseen. For his part, the burner doesn’t change course and keeps staggering down the snow-covered road. It’s really coming down now and it's unbearable. For me. Dad doesn’t seem to be bothered, but then, most things don’t bother that man.
The goblins hack and slash at the helpless burner, one after the other. He barely puts up a fight and goes down beneath the barrage.
But he gets the last laugh.
Just when I think he’s down for good, his chest turns bright white, and then, he ceases to exist. The burner quickly goes supernova and detonates like a block of C4. The goblins are torn to pieces by the blast and thrown in every direction.
Well, their parts are, anyway.
I almost take a sneaker to the face, but Dad pushes us to the ground. We cover our heads and watch as the dust, and snow settles on…nothing. Even from here, I can make out the charred road and missing white powder.
“Mother of God…”
I look at my father. “Is that blasphemous talk?”
His only reply is to knit his eyebrows and send me a look that says, “Drop it.” So, I do, and we stand and step out of hiding. Weapons up, we clear the immediate area and survey the battlefield. There’s nothing there. There isn’t even any blood present. Whatever remains there were, they were either scorched away or blasted into the air.
A second group of goblins, six in all, show up, along with a couple of reapers. This is the first time I’ve seen any of them in a while. Instead of engaging in open conflict, we duck behind the next closest house and make our way inside through an already busted window. If we have to wait them out for a short time, I’d much rather do it indoors than out in the freezing cold.
Not that the house is warm, by any means.
Like the rest of the neighbors so far, the cabin is without power and is dark. It’s icy cold inside as well, but at least we aren’t getting snowed on anymore. This cabin, like the D’Angelo residence, is one big room on the first floor. But unlike the family cottage, this one is ransacked and slathered in blood. Moonlight peeks in through the broken windows, making the visibility decent, but not great. The only room that isn’t caked in the crimson is the central living room. It, instead, has a single char mark, dead center. The burner that caused its destruction went off inside the home.
Just like the one yesterday, back on the road south of Gatlinburg. It had taken out the entire front half of the small, rural home when it went nuclear.
Dad checks the front yard while I look out back. Whereas our place has the cliff and creek combo, this one is butted up against another home’s fenced-in backyard. And the neighbor’s place is missing most of its roof. From here, I can see right into the back of the living room.
Geez, those things are powerful.
Some look to be more destructive than others, and without being able to study them more, I’m sure it’ll be impossible to tell which are the more powerful of burners. It brings up the question: Could one be so unbelievably strong that it levels an entire neighborhood and not just a single home?
I’ll have to leave that possibility open, and not seeing anything, I join my father at the front of the cabin and listen to what he has to say.
“They’re just standing there.”
I take a look for myself and see that he’s right. It’s the same behavior that I’ve seen many times. Sometimes, instead of moving, the Unseen just stand still, listening for something to prompt them.
Dad speaks up again.
“We could wait them out. Maybe they’ll freeze as the temperature continues to drop?”
I shake my head. “Cynthia.”
His face sours. “Frank… The chances she’s made it this far, or even went this way at all, are slim.”
I stand tall. “I thought the same about you and Mom, and yet, here you are.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “But I agree—it’s a long shot. Still, we can’t give up.”
He nods and glances at the window, looking discouraged.
“What about them?”
I smile. “We move them.”
I quickly relay my idiotic plan. Surprisingly, Dad doesn’t argue against it. The fact that he's going along with it, and doesn't fight the idea at all, tells me that he’s stumped and has no idea what else to do. Plus, I just so happen to be the Unseen expert, not him.
“Okay,” he says, “but I blame you if I die.”
I grin and throw open the front door. “Fair enough.” Then, I purse my chapped lips together and whistle, making sure the group of creatures hear me and know where to find me before we run upstairs. A random floorboard protests against my weight, and creaks noisily, throwing off my mental rhythm. My father leads the way, and I’m about to follow him, but I freeze in place. Thankfully, I did that too, because I witness a siren step into view.
Shit.
The goblins and reapers would’ve been easy enough to mow down with our dual firepower, but the siren will take a little more effort than just going all Rambo on her. Unlike the one I saw freezing to death while on the way here, this siren looks healthy and comfy in her thick, winter garbs. I can’t see whether she’s as emaciated as the other woman, but she’s moving like she isn’t.
Which is to say, fast.
“Move!” I hiss, taking the stairs two at a time.
Halfway up, they cut left and follow the layout of the cabin. Dad ducks into the first room on the left and I do the same thing at the first doorway on the right. There, we wait, shotgun barrels aimed back down the hall. We’re only ten feet from the tight stairwell—the perfect bottleneck. We should be able to take them down before they can even make it to the second floor.
I quickly take in my surroundings and realize that I’m on the outside of the cabin, facing the neighbor to the north. Our emergency escape route, if we need it, will be out the window and onto the peaked, snow-covered roof.
Great friggin’ plan, Frank.
Now, instead of one of us dying by the claws of an Unseen, we can slip and fall to our deaths.
Somewhere below us, a floorboard creaks—the same one that sounded off when I stepped on it, I bet. One of the creatures has just entered the home.
We take aim and wait. Seconds go by, and I’m half-tempted to investigate the lack of movement below. Did they give up and leave, or are they just being more patient than me?
The tingle in my bladder says that it’
s the second option.
The window at the back of the hall is perfectly illuminating the upstairs hallway, which is excellent considering how dark it was downstairs. If the lighting holds, we should be able to get a great look at exactly what we’re dealing with. There’s a chance that only one of the Unseen reacted to the whistle.
We need all of them here to make our plan work.
My butthole puckers when a chorus of floor creaks resonate below. If my math is correct, every single one of the things has entered the cabin. That is unless it's just the single goblin running in place atop the floorboard.
If so, jerk move, dude, jerk move…
Peeking over my shoulder, I take a second look at the upstairs window. We may need it after all.
I turn my attention back to the stairs when I hear a snarl.
19
The first goblin to appear takes a pair of shells to the chest. The one behind it is temporarily stunned by the splatter of blood before it, too, is dropped. Dad and I grin at one another but are forced to duck into our respective rooms when the other four goblins bull rush our position atop the stairs.
As for my share of the brawl, I back into the guestroom and empty my shotgun’s cartridge into the wall to the left of the door, the wall that shares itself with the hallway on the other side. Pain-filled screams answer the concussive booms of my weapon as the rounds penetrate the drywall.
Across the hall, Dad lets loose with his own salvo, earning another chorus of shrieks as a result.
Reloading, I take four more steps back and am met by the flopping body of an older man. The senior-goblin is laying on his side in a growing pool of red, and he smells like shit. Not a surprising given that he's been a monster for a month, I suppose. I mean, it’s not like I smell like roses either.
I snap my shotgun up when the sound of chopping wood thunders through the hallway. Wait a second, chopping wood? That doesn’t make sense at all unless there’s an army of Unseen-lumberjacks downstairs…
Oh, right, I think, reapers.
I can only imagine what a duo of the blade-wielding creatures looks like while attempting to ascend a staircase in a hurry. Plus, with the battle waging up here, they must’ve put it into high gear and shredded the wood and drywall between the front door and me.
There goes our way down.
I glance over my shoulder, to the dormer window, just as the siren dives through the glass. Before I can swing my shotgun around, she bowls into me, knocking it away. We furiously punch and claw at one another…and I’m pretty sure she’s hurting me more than I am her.
She’s on top of me, but I get a foot in between us and shove. I’m not quick enough, however, and she rakes her talons across my chest. I grit my teeth and growl, staggering to my feet. The siren backs me into the busted second-floor window, and instead of drawing my gun and hoping I have time to raise it, aim, and pull the trigger, I turn and leap through her entry point.
Covering my face, I’m thrilled to feel nothing besides the rough, sandpaper-like roof beneath my body when I land. I missed major injury this time, unlike the window incident back in Manhattan.
I roll twice before ending up on my hands and knees. My palms are quickly shredded, and so are my knees beneath my jeans. Oh, and my already injured chest is injured even more. So, other than that, I’m fine.
Except, I don’t stop.
With only inches to spare, my toes thankfully catch the gutter, and I halt my backward belly slide. Any further and I would’ve careened off the second story roof.
Ouch.
I scrambled to my feet just as the siren pokes her head outside the window. This time, I draw my gun. I pull the trigger but slip as I stand, missing her skull high. The off-balance shot isn’t a complete waste of ammo, however. She reflexively ducks back into the house, giving me a few more seconds to continue my escape to even higher ground.
Holstering my pistol, for the time being, I scramble up the peaked roof and pass by the bedroom window. I’m happy to see that the siren didn’t get a look at what direction I went. Above the opening now, I stop, regain my balance, and once more draw my gun.
Slowly, I backpedal up the slick slope, keeping my gun trained on the top of the dormer window. She could attack from the left or right as well, so I’m going to have to react accordingly.
And do it quickly.
Hearing my father shout is the only thing that happens, though. I’m about to charge back down the roof, concerned for Dad’s wellbeing. My concerns are somewhat alleviated a few seconds later when I hear his shotgun boom twice.
Then, nothing. The only sound I hear is the crisp breeze swirling around me.
Taking tiny steps, I shuffle backward again until I stop at the cabin’s highest point. Does my father’s silence mean he killed the siren, or could it mean that he’s injured, or worse, dead? His retaliation doesn’t tell me whether he won the battle or not, only that he participated in it.
An image of my dad bleeding out on the floor flashes across my mind. I visualize him reaching a shaky hand to the ceiling, hacking up blood as he calls out my name. “Frank…” Then, the siren, like a lioness in the Serengeti, bites down on his throat.
Panicked, I take a single step forward just as the siren goes airborne, leaping directly over the top of the dormer window. And, with perfect timing, my feet slip when I try to snap my gun up. With my balance gone, I miss the siren twice before I’m bowled into hard. My gun goes flying out of my hand but stops down by the dormer on the other side of the house.
I’m about to dive after it but unsheathe my hunting knife instead. I immediately swipe at the approaching creature. She reels back but doesn’t fall. Her bare feet seem to be gripping the slick roof better than my boots are. Then I see that she’s digging in the tips of her clawed toes for traction.
Clever girl…
I notice that she’s bleeding badly from a wound to her side. It seems that Dad had gotten a piece of her just as she exited the home.
But is he alive?
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to worry about anyone else right now. My life is at stake. So, I carefully make my way back up to the peak of the roof, keeping the point between my legs, and turn my back to the road.
My plan works, but not only do I have better footing, so does the siren. The siren stalks toward me and backs me into a corner—only—the corner isn’t really a corner at all, it’s the front-edge of the cabin. I’m trapped at its highest point, easily twenty-five-feet off the ground. A fall from this height would more than likely kill me.
So will the siren if I don’t figure something out!
The disgusting creature lunges at me, but I parry her attack with one of my own, catching her across the wrist with my knife blade. She cries out in pain, deepening her sneer. I didn’t know it was possible, but the blind, snarling woman looks as if she’s regretting her decision to follow me. Bleeding from multiple wounds, she takes a cautious step back.
That’s when I make my move.
Letting loose a battle cry that William Wallace would be proud of, I leap toward her and jab at her stomach. My blade tip pierces her abdomen but seems to do little else. Now in too close, I quickly yank the blade free, needing to get out of her range. My feet don’t move, though. Instead, I freeze and stare in horror when her wound begins to glow.
Not only are there burners in the world, but the other Unseen can become infected with the same destructive virus as the rest of us.
Terrified, I stumble back. Shaking, my free hand goes to my chest. This same siren just slashed my skin with her filthy, elongated fingernails. There’s no way of knowing if the burner contagion is transmitted that way, or if it has to be a zombie-style bite. For my sake, let's hope it’s by bite only.
As the fresh plasma flows, the creature wails in agony. I can see her skin sizzling from here. Her blood is quite literally starting to boil with each passing second. Prepared to defend myself again, I raise my knife and gawk at the blade. Like the siren, it is smoking
in the cold, winter air. Not wanting to chance infection, I chuck the weapon over the side, not once looking to see where it lands.
Shrieking, the woman rushes me. I backpedal all the way to the front edge of the cabin and wait. When she’s within reaching distance, I dive left, toward my gun, sliding on my wounded chest as if I’m a bloodied penguin in the Antarctic. Landing uncomfortably atop the other dormer window’s likewise peaked roof, I snag my weapon, turn, and aim.
But the siren is gone.
It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out what happened to her either. I groan and stand. Clunking back up the slope, I keep my pistol drawn and head for the peak at the front of the cabin. The harsh winds pick up around me, making my search for the missing siren difficult.
Through watering eyes, I spot her further down the driveway twitching on the asphalt. One of her legs is bent in the wrong direction, and so is one of her arms. She calls out, wailing into the sky above, but either succumbs to unconsciousness or death and falls still.
I’m so focused on the dying siren that I don’t notice the other creature directly below me. This one is only feet from the front porch…and he’s glowing from within. I respond to the burner’s presence faster than I can process what I’m doing and put a single bullet in the top of his head.
The chemical reaction is instantaneous, and I’m blown backward off my feet. A fireball shoots past my peaked perch, quickly blowing apart the front of the cabin and igniting the world around me.
Holy fuck!
Dazed, I stand, unsuccessfully holstering my gun twice before finally returning it to its spot beneath my left armpit. How I didn’t let go of the weapon this time, I have no idea.
With my footing compromised, I try to back myself away from the hellish mayhem, but can’t. The roof directly behind me cracks and caves in cutting off any chance at escape. More fire erupts, this time originating from within the newly installed skylight. Hopefully, the owner is an astronomer. Either I jump to the ground or get roasted.
Decisions, decisions…
“Frank!” I turn when I hear Dad’s voice shouting from somewhere inside the cabin.
