Horror Express

by David O'Hanlon

  He managed to close his eyes before his son leapt onto the bed and grabbed him by the cheeks, pressing their noses together. Ahanu opened his eyes to see his boy’s staring intensely into his.

  “I saw a moose, Papa.”

  “Did you shoot it?”

  The boy leaned back and pursed his lips. “No. Momma wouldn’t let me have the rifle.”

  “That’s good. You shouldn’t ever hunt naked.”

  The child pondered on that for a moment and then looked down at himself as if it was news. He grinned widely. “I forgot. Momma made akutaq and I didn’t want to mess up my clothes. She said we were going into town tomorrow.”

  “Akutaq, huh? Did you save me any?”

  He thought about it and then shook his head. “Nope.”

  “Nope?” He tickled the boy, who squealed joyously.

  His wife leaned on the doorjamb and clapped her hands to get their attention. She smiled brightly at them both and then pointed behind her. “Go get dressed and stop bothering your father. He’s had a busy morning. Bring in the fish and set them in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, Momma.” The boy sprang to his feet and ran off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor mid-stride and darting past his mother.

  Ahanu patted the bed and waggled his eyebrows at his wife. “Hey, look at this empty space over here. It looks like it’s just the right size for you, Nuttha.”

  She giggled softly.

  “It was a very busy morning and so cold. I can hardly feel myself.”

  “Is that you way of saying I should come feel you?” She sauntered over to the bed and sat on the edge seductively. She placed a hand on his thigh and rubbed her round belly with the other. “Remember what happened last time? You can just wait.”

  “It’s two more months,” Ahanu whined and threw his head back into the pillow.

  “The mighty bear goes many more than that without sex.”

  “I am not a mighty bear. I am a weak man and I need you.” He gave her a pouty face.

  She pinched his lips together. “Then I need the laundry washed. It’s much too cold for the baby. Bring in some milk while you’re out there, dear.” She walked out of the room, swaying her hips teasingly. “And make sure you wring them out completely before you bring them in.”

  Ahanu huffed and stared at the ceiling. He should have known not to marry an Inuit girl. They were much too stubborn and got pregnant from a stiff breeze. He leaned off the bed to watch her wiggle into the kitchen—there were also good things about Inuit girls. He smiled and slid out of the bed to go do the chores. He walked into the living room and tossed a log onto the fire before going to retrieve his coat and boots.

  Nuttha laid one of the sturgeons on the oak cutting board and waved Ahanu over with the knife. He watched as she expertly sliced the scutes off and then the fins. She scraped them into the trash bin with her blade and flipped the fish, repeating the process on the other side before he put his arms around her and rubbed her belly.

  “Yes, dear?” He rested his chin on her shoulder as she cut away the back scutes. He watched as she worked the knife around the gill plate.

  She pressed her rear against him. “I changed my mind. Hurry up with the chores.”

  A smile stretched across his chubby cheeks and he kissed her neck with an exaggerated smack. “Right away, dear.”

  The fish twitched and flopped over. They both straightened at stared at it for a moment, but it didn’t move again.

  “Muscle spasm,” Ahanu suggested with a shrug.

  Nuttha set the sturgeon back up and started her cut on one of the fillets when it twitched again. “Maybe it swallowed something. Another fish that’s still moving.”

  Ahanu nodded as he backed away. “Could be. Yes, that’s probably it. I caught another. Let’s just prepare that one instead.”

  “You are definitely not a mighty bear, my love.” She blew him a kiss, flipped the fish over and slide her knife calmly along the belly. Nuttha reached in and slid the guts out onto the table.

  The stomach twitched and squirmed on its own. The organ tore open and the hideous creature sprang out, lashing at Nuttha with spindly tentacles. Ahanu screamed and stumbled, tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor. The tentacles twisted around his wife’s hand. She stabbed the snake-like monster with her filet blade and pried it away from her arm. It hissed and snapped at her with bizarre fangs. She flung the knife with the thing still impaled on its blade straight into the fireplace.

  Nuttha and Ahanu walked across the room tentatively while the thing writhed in the flames and finally withered into a blackening ball. Ahanu gulped hard and looked to his wife with concern, holding her close to him.

  “I just remembered.” She sat down on the floor, pulling him down with her. “I don’t really feel like fish after all.”

  The End

  Bonus Materials

  Since getting into writing, I’ve promised myself along the way that I would always put “entertainment first” when writing anything and I hope that I’ve done that throughout the previous 200+ pages of storytelling. I always want to do more as an author, however. It’s a bit of a learning experience, so please bear with me.

  I have long been a fan of Charles Band’s Full Moon Features. One of the things that got me hooked on their films as a kid was the Video Zone featurettes at the end of the movies. If you don’t remember these, they were like DVD special features before DVD was even a pipe dream. I’ve wondered for years how I could do something like that for a book. In the next few pages, you’ll find my version of “deleted scenes.” Unfortunately, as a writer, deleting scenes means deleting them for good in most cases.

  Overall, I didn’t cut much from the story itself. Chuck’s death was much longer and gorier in the first draft and there’s was some exposition about the relationship between Miss Jones and Wells with some sprinkling of back story. I decided both were too wordy and cut them out. There was also a little bit extra at the end with Mountie Hicks where he finds the iceman’s body and decides to sell it. I had an additional alternate ending that never made it past notes because I felt it demanded a sequel, as well.

  In that ending—more of a short epilogue—the wyrm was going to spring from the sturgeon and convert Ahanu’s family. Then we’d have seen Saxton and Irina watching a fire and holding each other, thinking about how far they’d come from that fateful night on the train. Then we’d see the fire was a family being burned by red-eyed people in a ravaged, war-torn London. The mob would spot them and give chase, eventually cornering them in an alley. As the infected aimed their flamethrowers, a group of juvenile delinquents were going to bum rush the killers and hack them to pieces before taking Saxton and Irina back to their hideout. Wells would be waiting for them, looking much the worse-for-wear, and welcome them to the resistance.

  That was about it. However, the original trajectory for the book was much different.

  There was a wraparound tale about a group of teens going to a secret drive-in to watch the movie and was told in three pieces—the start of the film, the intermission, and the finale. Early readers found it jarring jumping from the different time periods and I ultimately cut those sections. I’ve put them back together here as sort of a bonus short story and, afterwards, you’ll find the alternate ending I did write with a few notes on it.

  The Drive-In

  Part One

  The sun burned away somewhere beyond the peaks of the Ozarks. Little rays of its light slipped between the shedding branches of early fall and glinted off the pickup’s chrome accents as the truck powered around another sharp curve. Deep in the mountain country, buried in a barren holler between the township of Fiddler’s Gap and Lake Pocahontas, was the greatest treasure in the entire state of Arkansas.

  Wiley Thomas checked the dashboard clock to make sure he was on schedule. Amber, his girlfriend since fifth grade, slid closer to him and squeezed his knee.

  “It’s okay if we’re a few minutes late.”

  �
��Nope.” Wiley shook his head. “Been waiting seven years for this.”

  “It’s an old movie anyway. We can probably watch it online.”

  “That’s not the point,” Hugh Mandy said from the backseat. He leaned forward and folded his pudgy arms across the gray fabric. “The Deadlight is only open three nights a year. My uncle promised to take us, but he died before he got the chance. No one else knows where it is, at least not if you ask them. They even go so far as to say they’ve never heard of it.”

  “That’s impossible, right?” Kara, Amber’s cousin, piped up. She was visiting from Bentonville and got stuck with Hugh as her date for the evening. “There’s no such thing as a secret in a small town.”

  “So then, how did you find it tonight?” Amber asked.

  A break in the trees allowed one last look at the small town below before they rounded the bend and continued their descent into the valley on the other side of the mountain. Eyes shined in the shadows of the forest as the truck’s lights passed. Nothing jumped out, but Wiley tensed in anticipation of an anxious deer or brave coyote that might dart in front of the steel bumper.

  “We got lucky, babe. That whole thing with the alligator in the lake last year really killed the tourism.”

  “They ever say how a gator got into a lake way up here?” Hugh scratched at the four curls he called a beard.

  “Think it might have been a tornado.”

  “Gator-nado.” Hugh nodded sagely. “The most obvious answer is usually the right one.”

  Kara sighed and leaned her head against the window. “Can we switch dates?”

  “The theater?” Amber reminded them.

  “Old Man Garrity and that new deputy were down at the diner the other night and I overheard them talking about drumming up some interest in the Deadlight. Anyway, Old Man Garrity figured since he was a cop he probably needed to know where it was, so he spilled. Warned him about not going up there because of all the horrible things and curses and whatnot.”

  “Curses and whatnot?” Kara sat up sharply.

  “Yeah, you know like homeless people and the occasional bear.” Hugh made claws with his fingers and snarled. “That kind of whatnot.”

  “I was more concerned about the curses.” Kara crossed her arms. “I always get the dumb ones.”

  Hugh aimed finger guns at her ironic Nirvana crop top. “Those ain’t exactly brains you got there either, doll face.”

  The engine rumbled louder as Wiley eased the accelerator further down. As the needle rose closer to sixty and the throaty V8 echoed through the shadowy forests, he spotted the flickering light ahead. He sped along the road, no longer concerned about the wildlife.

  The foxfire was the first marker to the Deadlight.

  It didn’t matter how fast he went, though. The light stayed at the same distance and even took a turn or two with him. He tried to convince himself they were reflectors or those little sticky lights they sold at Belcher’s Gas and Grub.

  His nerves disagreed with him.

  A cold sweat broke out along his spine and he shivered slightly, causing the skin to prickle along his arms. He tapped the brakes, considering calling off the evening plans. He didn’t understand the twisting in his gut but, for whatever reason, he trusted it. The orange-yellow ball blinked in and out of existence just ahead. Wiley watched it for a long moment, taking his foot off the gas and letting the truck coast. He turned the wheel towards the trees and let the headlights shine on the light. It disappeared altogether.

  “Shit.” He slowed the truck to a crawl and rolled down Amber’s window to see better. “Babe, grab the spotlight under your seat.”

  A favorite Ozark pastime was spotlighting deer before dawn, and before hunting season. The powerful lamp threw a pillar of blazing white along the roadside. Amber pointed excitedly at the hidden road, little more than a wide gap in the trees with beaten down grass.

  “There it is, Wiley!”

  Wiley hesitated until Hugh punched the back of his shoulder.

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Yeah.” Wiley turned the wheel sharply and gave it some gas. “Hell yeah. Let’s go to the Deadlight Drive-in!” The motor growled as he committed to the turn and rolled onto the beaten path.

  The truck rocked lightly as it rolled in and out of the ruts left by cars over the last two days. The Deadlight Drive-in was only open three days a year, near the end of September when the cold started creeping into the darkness and the woods were dense with prey. They’d already missed the first two days. Tonight, was their last chance to go to the drive-in.

  That primal shiver hit Wiley again as he watched the forest on either side of the makeshift road. There were no more animals among the trees.

  The old mountain folk, the ones that still remembered the traditions of their forefathers knew why the animals had gone—why they never came to this area. They knew it by name. If Wiley and the others had cracked open as many books as beers, then they would know not to go into the holler on Haustblót.

  ***

  The truck puttered up to the temporary gate—a couple of logs with one end of each on a pulley. Two men in hooded, brown robes stood on either side to lift the logs. They awaited their orders, standing perfectly still except for the rise and fall of their shoulders with synchronous, heaving breaths. Another man, robed but not hooded and with a hunched back, practically galloped to the driver’s door. His left eye, seemingly too large for the socket, continued spinning around for a moment until it finally settled on Wiley’s face.

  “Welcome, darlings, to the Deadlight Drive-in.”

  “Man, you guys really take the theatrics seriously,” Hugh said from the backseat. He leaned out of the window and poked at the hunchback’s right shoulder. “It feels real, Wiley. Give it a poke.”

  “No, stop that. Get back in the truck.” Wiley swatted his friend’s hand and chuckled at the man. “I’m sorry, just ignore him. His parents were siblings. Four tickets for tonight’s show.”

  “Yes, of course. You’ll pull through the gate and take any of the vacant spots. We are quite busy tonight, given the evening’s importance.” He paused and ran his tongue over his front teeth. “It is our last showing for the year, you know? However, you should find some space towards the rear.”

  “Thank you. We’ve never actually been here before.”

  “Obviously, my friend.” The hunchback gestured flamboyantly for the two faceless ghouls to raise the logs.

  “What’s that mean? Why is it obvious?” Kara asked.

  “Who cares?” Hugh reached out to poke the hunchback again, but Kara slapped the back of his head. “Ow! What’s the big deal? They’re just costumes to sell tickets.”

  “I don’t think they are.” She squeezed his arm. “Just leave him alone. Please.”

  “How much is it, sir?” Wiley asked the hunchback.

  “Oh, no worries my friend. The Projectionist prefers to collect personally.”

  “Wiley.” Amber tugged the tail of his shirt. “I can see their breath. Look it.” She pointed through the windshield at the gatekeepers.

  Walls of fog rolled from under their hoods with each massive, shuddering breath.

  “So what, babe?”

  “So, it’s sixty-eight degrees. That’s not possible.”

  The hunchback eyed her suspiciously and abruptly turned his attention to the backseat, causing his eye to spin wildly again. “Please, enjoy the show and feel free to pile out of the stuffy vehicle. It’s a beautiful night to spend under the stars.”

  “Right,” Kara almost whispered it. “Thank you.”

  “What is the show anyhow?” Hugh asked.

  “Oh, one you’re sure to enjoy. It’s a real masterpiece, my friend. Please, pull through and enjoy. Those logs do get heavy and we wouldn’t want any accidents tonight.”

  “Sure thing. Thanks for the help, buddy.” Wiley took his foot off the brake and drove under the logs. “Amber, are you alright?”

  She didn’t say an
ything for a moment. “It’s weirding me out.”

  “God, babe. That’s the point. Like Hugh said, they’re just part of the show. They probably have fog machines in those robes or something. Just relax and have fun.”

  Wiley’s motor puttered like a boat as he drove along the back of the theater parking and turned into a wide row. Another dozen vehicles were already parked, including a Dodge conversion van that three young women were dancing on top of. Yellawolf rapped about trailer park life through their blown speakers. The other vehicles were spread out through the lot, pulled up beside the speaker boxes.

  “I thought the hunchback said the place was full.”

  “I don’t think hunchback is the PC term.” Kara leaned on the seat back.

  “You’re right, Kara.” Hugh joined her, leaning his head on her shoulder which she immediately shrugged off. “We should be more considerate. Wiley, the normalcy-challenge man at the gate said they were packed.”

  Wiley gave a grunt of agreement and turned the truck around. “I don’t know. It’s not like they advertise, guys. Maybe this is packed for them. If you want, we can go back down to Fiddler’s Gap and steal some beer from my uncle. He’s probably got a case or two and we can use his Netflix.”

  “Or we could skip the Netflix and get to the chill,” Hugh said as his hand snaked across the gray upholstery to squeeze Kara’s thigh.

  “You need to chill in a cold shower, fuck boy.” Kara grabbed his pinky and folded it back.

  Hugh bit his lip and groaned. “Jesus, woman!” He pulled his hand back and rubbed the digit. “You know there’s nicer ways to give me a boner.”

  Wiley cast a sideways glance at Amber. He had warned her that Hugh and her cousin weren’t going to hit it off. Hell, except for Wiley, no one liked Hugh. His own mother went so far as to say he was switched in the hospital nursery. Amber sighed softly and laid her head against the cool glass. Wiley slipped the shifter into ‘park’ and turned in his seat.