by David Bourne
As his bewilderment gave way to horror, he ran towards the man. Ray used to be a decent kicker for his football team, and this madman would soon find out how a kick-off with his right foot felt like. He hit the guy with full force against the chin, so that his head snapped back and showed pieces of Mia’s throat hanging out of his mouth.
Either Ray’s memory had exaggerated his kicking abilities, or the man was a real tough customer. Instead of falling down, the tall man jumped forward and hit Ray in the chest with his shoulder. Ray found himself six feet away on the floor of the aisle, and he felt as if he had been kicked by a horse. Then he blacked out.
When his vision returned, he saw the monstrous thing standing over him. There was blood and skin tissue all over his face, which hardly looked human anymore. Ray wanted to get up, but he lacked the strength. What the fuck is happening here? The beast would attack him any moment now. He reached below the seat next to him and pulled out a life vest. Just as the oversized, carnivorous son of a bitch lunged at him, he pulled the cord and pressed the vest between himself and the beast who snapped at his face from only inches away. Due to the weight of the attacker leaning on him, the air was pressed out of Ray’s lungs. The guy must weigh at least 250 pounds. His teeth kept snapping at Ray’s face, and the life vest was already leaking air. As if in slow motion, the biting maniac got closer and closer to him. Suddenly, a red object appeared at the edge of his field of view. While Ray still wondered what this was, he already heard the fire extinguisher hit the head of the tall man with a dull thud. Then he saw Nick, who tossed the extinguisher aside and pulled him to his feet. Ray became gradually aware of the enormous noise in the cabin. The airplane was in total chaos, and the passengers were freaking out.
Some had locked themselves in the lavatories, but the majority was so panicky they could not make any rational decisions. Many screamed and hid behind their seats. Ray could not think clearly. He dragged himself into the cockpit and checked the autopilot. At least the Boeing was still on course. Maybe they could get things under control after all. He was just going to ask Nick to check on the tall man, when his co-pilot uttered a scream that made his blood run cold. When he turned around, he saw that Nick was lying on the ground and being attacked by the thing. The beast not only possessed superhuman strength, but also seemed to perceive hardly any pain, as the deformed left side of its skull—where the fire extinguisher had hit—was slowly oozing outwards. That didn’t prevent him, though, from mauling Ray’s long-term friend and colleague. Ray acted instinctively. He took out the half-pint bottle of Jack Daniels he kept in his uniform for emergencies and smashed off its bottom. Then he jabbed the bottle into the right eye of the beast. An indefinable cry of pain—the bastard seemed to feel something after all—could be heard before the giant fell over backwards. In order to err on the side of caution, Ray took the fire extinguisher and hit the skull until no part of its head was recognizable anymore. Then he looked after Nick.
“Damn it, Nick, what is happening here?”
Nick did not answer. He had a gaping wound on his leg and appeared to be unconscious. Somebody had to take care of that wound. Where was Cathy?
“CATHY!” Ray yelled through the cabin, but the commotion was still too loud for him to be heard. He had to calm down these people. He had to take care of Nick. Therefore, he had to initiate an emergency landing.
Ray (6)
Ray’s brain was working overtime. He tried to call air traffic control, but the connection seemed to be interrupted. When things go bad, they really go bad in a big way, Ray thought. He checked the navigation system and was looking for a suitable place to land. The Boeing was still not at cruising altitude and had only reached about 15,000 feet. He had to rely on what the radar system showed him since he couldn’t see the ground below: Nothing but trees. They were flying over the White Mountain National Forest. Damn it. The next airport was about twenty miles away. It was a small military airfield west of here. He had to try it.
Just as he was about to enter the new coordinates, there was more screaming from the main cabin. Ray turned around and saw Nick standing there—or rather, what used to be Nick. He didn’t know what kind of disease the tall man had carried, but it appeared to be highly contagious. Nick’s crazed expression was something Ray had never seen in his usually calm colleague. They stared at each other for a moment, and time seemed to stand still. Then all hell broke loose.
On this cloudy Sunday afternoon, Martha White walked her daily round on the shores of Grey Lake. The spry retiree lived in one of the scattered vacation homes nearby. She was lost in thought, as she could not decide whether to bake an apple pie or a blueberry pie. Later her friends Rita and Laura would drop by for a visit, and the choice of pies was a controversial topic between the three of them, as each of them considered herself the one who baked the best pies. Rita, in particular, could make snide comments that would always get on her nerves. Martha was considering if she should sneak some laxative into Rita’s slice of pie, when she noticed a droning sound that got louder and louder. She looked around, but she couldn’t find the origin of the sound. Then she looked up at the sky, as the noise appeared to be coming from there. Nothing could be seen among the grey mist of the clouds, but the droning became so painful that Martha held her ears. The elderly lady could not believe her aged eyes when she saw what was happening above her: A white plane shot out of the clouds with breakneck speed and dived towards the lake. All thoughts about pies were gone now, and Martha didn’t even think to escape to safety. The Boeing that was aiming straight at her had the same effect the laxative would have had on Rita—she lost control of her sphincter and uttered a shrill scream.
Total chaos ruled inside the plane. On the floor of the deserted cockpit lay the now truly lifeless body of Nick—at least the part up to the neck. His head lay on the other side of the cockpit door, where Ray was just getting up. After Nick had tried to attack him, Ray grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the cockpit. This caused several instruments to break. Ray knew that in the confines of the cockpit he stood no chance against the madly snapping Nick, so he jumped into the cabin. With amazing speed, Nick whirled around with a hankering to maul his former captain. Ray thought quickly and smashed the cockpit door shut, just as Nick stuck his head out. Ray slammed the door back and forth, again and again. Nick’s head made sounds like a watermelon being run over by a car. With a last push, Ray struck the door so hard that he severed Nick’s head. Unfortunately, this also jammed the door and he found himself locked out.
“FUCK!” Adrenaline surged through Ray. He looked around the plane and noticed that it had gone into a dive. The screams of the passengers were muted by the oxygen masks that had fallen from the ceiling of the cabin due to a loss of pressure. This was an air emergency, which according to the altitude threatened both the crew and passengers with acute hypothermia and suffocation. When Ray saw the tall monster in the aisle and the head of Nick—or what was left of it—he realized the pilot manual had no advice about rabid passengers or crew members. Is this really happening?
Ray had to get into the cockpit, otherwise hypothermia and suffocation would be the least of their problems. He was already getting woozy due to the loss in altitude, and he tried in vain to open the door. During his desperate attempts, an eyeball seemed to look derisively at him out of what remained of Nick’s face. “Fuck you!” Ray screamed. “Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU!”
With a primal scream he pushed through and opened the door. Ray acted like he himself was on autopilot. This was good, as the autopilot of the plane was not working. They were at about 12,000 feet and flying towards the ground at 300 miles per hour. Ray only had about 30 seconds left. He knew a normal landing was impossible, and even a successful emergency landing was unlikely. Then he did something he had not done in years. Ray Thompson prayed.
Scott (7)
Scott awoke and felt like he had been run over by a truck. The damned alarm clock showed it was only 9:00 a.m. The early
bird can screw himself. Scott sat up and ran his hands through his hair. These days, his otherwise black hair showed some fine traces of grey. His dad had also gone grey early, but his mom never seemed to mind, and Jane didn’t complain about it to him either. After a hot shower, Scott went downstairs and brewed some fresh coffee. There was still no sign of Jane and Sam, yet. After he had a cup of coffee, he wondered what to do with the rest of the morning. He made himself a large sandwich and planned his first free day.
He didn’t have to think about it for a long time. Scott decided to visit his neighbor, Mrs. Wilkes. The old lady was eighty-two, and unfortunately her husband had suddenly passed away last summer. Physically, she was starting decline at such a considerable age, though you wouldn’t guess it if your heard her commanding him when he replanted shrubs in her garden. It is my own fault. After all, I offered to help her. Maybe he could do something for her today. Normally, he got a large piece of pie or another treat for his work. Scott licked his lips, put on his blue overalls, a red flannel shirt, and his work boots. Then he stepped outside the door. He greeted some of his neighbors who were sitting in their yards and gave him funny looks in return.
The old lady lived only one house over. It was a wooden house just like his, but the red paint of her house was starting to peel. I will take care of that in the spring.
He rang the doorbell. She opened the front door, beamed at him and squeezed his cheek as much as she could still manage to do. Scott was almost six foot six tall, while Betty Wilkes topped out at five foot two.
“Little Scotty Gerber,” she said and winked at him. The old lady, at first, seemed to be quite cheerful.
“I thought the leaves needed to be cleaned off your roof,” Scott teased.
She looked at him incredulously. “My dear Mister Gerber,” she suddenly said angrily. “I will rest on the Lord’s holy Sunday, as the commandment says.”
Oh, damn it, holy Sunday. No wonder the neighbors stared at me like I was from Mars. Now he stood here in his work clothes and received a dressing-down from his neighbor. Betty Wilkes seemed to notice that Scott now looked sheepish. “Just come in and have some coffee cake,” she said with a smile and a conciliatory gesture. His looks brightened a bit. I still won on points, though narrowly, he thought.
The two of them walked through the short hallway to the kitchen. The hallway held a coat rack that Bob Wilkes himself had built. The hooks were made of deer antlers. Betty Wilkes’ late husband used to hunt often. Scott had never liked the coat rack, but he dared not mention it.
He was given a large piece of coffee cake he noisily devoured.
“As the door is closed now, I need to mention a small problem that I need your help with,” said Betty.
When he looked at her closely, she squinted and seemed to be in pain. “What happened, Ma’am?” Scott was a little worried by now.
She started to explain. “Well, it was really odd. Like every Sunday morning, I took a bike ride all the way to the edge of the forest today. When I was on the way back home, I saw a boy, maybe ten years old, sitting on the curb. He seemed to be in pain. Of course I stopped and took a look at him. I wanted to help the child, but when I touched his head, he jumped up and bit my right arm. I was so shocked that I got back on my bike and rode home. Fifteen minutes later you arrived and rang my doorbell.” The old lady looked as if she was still trying to work through the entire story in her head.
Betty pulled up the right sleeve of her blouse to show him the injury. The wound looked really bad. The bite had almost reached the bone, even though it was obviously made by small teeth. Scott got angry. Who would bite an old lady?
“The boy should be ashamed of himself, Mrs. Wilkes. Did you know him?”
Betty Wilkes thought for a moment and then dismissed the idea. “No. The boy had lowered his head the whole time, and when he bit me, I was so shocked that I didn’t take a closer look.”
Scott thought this was all very odd. He put his plate in the sink.
“Could you go to my bathroom and get me a cloth bandage? I tried a band-aid, but it wasn’t enough to stop the bleeding,” Betty said. “I have to sit down, as I’m feeling somewhat dizzy.”
Scott gave her a sympathetic look, then he smiled at her. “I will get you well again in record time,” he promised.
Mrs. Wilkes’ eyes shone. Such a nice boy.
Scott went to the bathroom. It was not exactly modern, but it looked nice. When he peeked out the window, he saw a US flag waving in the yard. He remembered how he had helped Mr. Wilkes put up the flag pole and raise the flag. Then they had a beer together.
Scott was startled when he heard a window break on the other side of the street. He looked out the window again but couldn’t see anything. It sounded as if one of the neighbors’ boys had hit a window with a baseball.
The bandages were in the mirrored cabinet. He picked up enough of them, and returned to the kitchen.
As Scott entered the kitchen, he saw the elderly lady sitting where he had left her. She seemed to sway a bit on her chair. Must be her dizziness, he figured.
He started to cut the bandage to the right size. Suddenly he heard a strange, smacking moan. The old woman stood up and was now several feet away from him. She was upright, but her right shoulder sagged. Her bloodshot eyes stared directly at him. She kept clacking her teeth and trudged very slowly towards him. Betty Wilkes raised her arms, as if she had never done this before. All of her movements seemed awkward and strangely distorted. Her head bobbed sideways and then towards him. Next, there was this dismal sound coming out of her mouth in the form of a long, tortured moan.
“Is everything alright?” Scott received no answer. He saw a trickle of blood and saliva drip from her mouth. She moved faster towards him and suddenly snapped at him like a rabid dog. The floor was already covered with spattered blood. Scott moved back instinctively.
“What the heck is going on here?” Maybe the boy who bit her had rabies, he suddenly thought. Scott wanted to call emergency services, but Betty Wilkes was now too close for comfort and she reached for him.
“Stop that. I don’t want to hurt you!” He put his arms around the elderly woman and held her so tight that a bear couldn’t have done it better. She writhed like a large snake in his grip. How can she be so strong? Her face was now very close to his. The pupils of her eyes seemed cloudy, and only their red blood vessels stood out. She appeared to have gone completely insane.
Suddenly, she jerked her head forward and tried to bite his face. Scott was shocked. He pushed her away with all his strength. He was a tall man, with upper arms as thick as thighs. Betty Wilkes flew six feet without touching the ground and smashed into the wall of the hallway. The back of her head hit the wall with a bursting sound. She collapsed and left a red trail on the white wall as she slid to the floor.
Scott breathed faster and was worried he had killed his neighbor. He started to panic. I am losing my mind. He couldn’t focus on anything else. He tried to concentrate and reached for his cell phone. I’ve got to call the cops and EMS. How could he give a credible explanation for this?
Before he could think any further, Betty Wilkes showed t she was not lifeless at all. She leaned against the wall and stood up again as she made smacking and rattling sounds.
Scott wanted to get away. How could she run after him? I will make that phone call when I am at a safe distance. Scott turned around and ran towards the front door. I have to get out of his madhouse.
Scott (8)
Scott reached the front door and almost tore it from its hinges. He was acting on fight or flight panic instincts. When he stepped outside the door, he couldn’t believe his eyes. All hell had broken loose in the street. People ran for their lives, pursued by friends and family members. The neighbor across the street lay lifeless in his front yard.
Behind the lifeless man, Scott saw an enormous hole in the living room window. Something that used to be the neighbor’s wife sat on his back and tore chunks of flesh from his body
. She is eating his flesh, for heaven’s sake! A few yards away, an old Pontiac crashed into some garbage containers. The female driver got out and vomited on the pavement. Then she screamed as if she had seen the devil himself and collapsed in visible pain on the sidewalk. If someone had wanted to paint this scene, he probably would not have enough red paint because so much blood was flowing everywhere. Scott stared spellbound at these gruesome events. Now he was sure he was losing his mind.
The helplessness of his neighbor brought him back to reality. During the five seconds Scott had stared at the street, Betty Wilkes had also approached him from behind. He heard her at the very last moment and whirled around to face her. Anger rose up in him. When someone is in a life or death situation, there are three possible reactions: Flee, play dead or fight. Scott chose option one.
I must find my wife and my son, Scott thought He placed a hand on Betty Wilkes’ neck and picked her up like a toy. When he looked at her, his face expressed disgust. What he held in front of him no longer had anything to do with the charming elderly lady he had known for years. While rationalizing this fact to himself, he ran and slammed her back against one of the deer antler horns of the coat rack. The horn emerged from her chest, and he stepped back a bit. Now the woman hung neatly next to her rain coat. Scott could not believe his eyes. Even his last action didn’t keep this beast from trying to attack him, but right now he didn’t care much about it.
