Dead Meat Box Set, Vol. 2 | Days 4-6

by Clausen, Nick

  “Is that … a fucking voodoo doll?” He looks up at Mom, grinning. “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you spend all night making that thing? Who is it supposed to be—me?” He breaks into laughter. “Goddamnit, lady. You’re out of your fucking mind! Don’t tell me you really believe in that kind of shit?”

  Mom doesn’t answer him. Instead, she raises the doll, grabs its left arm and pulls it down with a snap.

  Dennis stares at Silas.

  For two or three long seconds, nothing happens.

  Silas just stands there, his eyes gleaming with amusement, the stupid grin growing wider on his face. “Hate to burst your bubble,” he says. “But I think—”

  Then, suddenly, his left arm—the one holding the cup of coffee—flings itself towards the floor. The cup flies from his hand and explodes into a million pieces as it hits the concrete. The movement is violent enough to thrust Silas sideways, and he bangs into the doorframe.

  He grabs it, clutching it like a drunk and barely manages to stay on his feet. He glares at his left hand like he’s never seen it before. “What the fuck?” he breathes. Then he looks up at Mom. And his face turns into a mask of shock, disbelief and rage. “You fucking bitch …”

  He steps forward, but Mom is ready. She stabs a finger hard into the solar plexus of the doll. Silas manages to take two more steps, reaches out his arms to grab Mom by the throat, and then—

  Then he’s shoved backwards with the force of a small car hitting him, sending him flying backwards out of the bathroom, a loud, strained “huuuaaaaaah!” escaping him as the air is punched from his lungs. He lands on the floor and tumbles several times over before coming to rest against one leg of the dinner table in the middle of the room. He immediately scrambles to get back up, but he only manages to fall over again, tipping over a chair with a bang. He dry-heaves and gasps for air, clutching his chest.

  Mom steps out from the bathroom with the calm of a priest approaching the altar. She looks to the side and picks up the rifle which Silas has placed leaning up against the wall as he unlocked the door. She hands it over to Dennis, saying in a stern voice: “Take this. Don’t use it.”

  Dennis takes the rifle with trembling hands, pointing the barrel to the floor and being careful not to touch the trigger.

  Silas tries again to stand, but only gets to his hands and knees. He looks up at them, his eyes bulging from their sockets, a vain throbbing across his forehead.

  “You’d better calm down,” Mom tells him. “Or you’ll faint. Breathe through your nose.”

  Silas closes his mouth and heaves in air through his nostrils. He slumps forward with relief, his breath slowly returning to normal.

  “You … you goddamn … bitch,” he croaks hoarsely. “What the … hell … did you …”

  “Save your breath,” Mom tells him calmly. “You’ll need it for climbing the stairs. Now, get to your feet.”

  Silas shakes his head, his greasy hair waving back and forth. “No way,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “I’m not doing anything you tell me, you goddamn psy—”

  Mom places two fingers gently on each side of the doll’s head, then pulls it upwards. This time, it’s not a sudden jerk, but a slow movement.

  Half a heartbeat later, Silas’s head begins lifting towards the ceiling. At first, it looks like he’s simply stretching his neck. But the expression on his face reveals right away that he’s not doing it on his own.

  “Wait! Stop that! You stop—aaaargh!”

  He clasps both hands to his head, like he’s trying to stop it from drifting away. It doesn’t work, however. To Dennis, it looks like an invisible rope has been tied around Silas’s neck and is now hoisting him upwards.

  Silas has no choice but to follow along, scrambling to his feet, lifting his chin as his head keeps rising until he’s standing on his tiptoes.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” he croaks. “Okay! All right! I’ll fucking do it!”

  Mom lets go of the doll’s head, and Silas immediately sinks back down onto his heels, groping his neck.

  “Fuck me … you almost tore my goddamn skull off,” he sneers, panting from the pain.

  “Next time, there will be no ‘almost,’” Mom tells him coolly, nodding towards the door to the tunnel. “Now: upstairs.”

  FIVE

  Dan is jerked awake by a scream cutting through the noise of the helicopter.

  He sits up, registering a sharp pain from his neck caused by the awkward position he’s been sleeping in, but pays no heed to it. He looks around and immediately sees where the scream came from.

  Eli is leaning over Nasira, trying to get at Ali, and Nasira is doing her best to keep him back, but there’s only so much she can do as she’s still wearing her safety belt, holding her tight to the wall. Eli, on the other hand, is completely free, and the way he’s thrashing, it’s a matter of seconds before he’ll wriggle past Nasira and reach Ali. Ali is screaming and trying to get his belt open, but it doesn’t work.

  Dan instinctively reaches for his own belt.

  “Oh, shit!” William exclaims from the other side of Dan. “What the hell’s he doing?”

  “He’s dead!” Dan hears himself shout, tearing at the buckle, which proves difficult to open. “We’ve got to help her!”

  “What’s going on back there?” someone in front shouts—it sounds like Sebastian.

  Josefine—who’s seated opposite Dan—is also awake now, shouting pointlessly at Eli to stop.

  There’s no time, Dan thinks desperately, staring at Ali who’s given up trying to get free and is instead pushing blindly against the belt, reaching out his arms for anyone to help him.

  Nasira is shouting in Arabic, pushing back Eli, but his shirt is tearing open across his chest, revealing his pale skin with blue bloodlines, enabling him to lunge at Ali.

  Dan prepares himself to watch the boy getting eaten alive.

  Then, there’s a sharp metallic click from where William is seated, followed by a command: “Get him!”

  Something brown and black flies by Dan’s head as Ozzy throws himself at Eli, catching his arm in midair and pulling him back violently.

  Eli is thrown onto his back, his legs sprawling as the German shepherd lands atop him, still clamped down on his upper arm, growling furiously. Eli is surprisingly oblivious to the dog tearing his arm to shreds; he simply tries to get back up, using his free arm.

  Ozzy thrashes and pulls at his arm. Instead of dragging Eli back, though, the result is that a large chunk of muscle is torn loose. Eli hardly notices; instead, he uses the opportunity to once again lunge himself at Ali before Ozzy has time to let go of the bloody chunk and bite down on him again.

  Dan looks down and realizes his belt is open—his hands must have continued working the buckle while he was staring at Ozzy fighting with Eli.

  He jumps to his feet and is about to go for Eli, when someone grabs him by the back of his shirt.

  “No, Dan!” William shouts. “What are you doing? You’ll get yourself bitten!”

  Dan tries to tear loose, but William holds on firmly. Dan sees Ozzy bite down on Eli’s leg and tug him back. But Eli once again escapes as Ozzy simply manages to tear off most of Eli’s calf muscle. Eli throws himself at Ali, the only thing stopping him now is Nasira’s arms, desperately shielding her brother. But Eli isn’t intent on being cheated out of his meal this time, and he begins to fight past Nasira with eager movements.

  “Let go of me!” Dan hears himself shout, swatting at William’s hand. “I’ve got to help him!”

  “Get back!” his father’s voice hisses in his ear as he rushes past Dan, shoving him aside.

  Dan stumbles and leans against the wall to avoid falling over. He wants to scream out, but he can only watch in stunned horror as his dad joins the fight at the back of the helicopter.

  What plays out is both terrifying and fascinating. Dan has never seen his father like this, his movements swift and confident, his expression stern. He’s brought a jacket which he throw
s over Eli’s head, blinding him. He then moves around him, using the few seconds before Eli can get the jacket off to reach around him and pin his arms to his body in a tight embrace. He then lifts the boy off the ground, causing his legs to kick comically in the air, reminding Dan of Fred Flintstone’s feet as he drives his non-motoric car.

  Ozzy—who’s been attacking Eli several times by now, leaving nasty bite wounds all over his legs and arms—immediately jumps up and clams down on Eli’s knee.

  “William!” Dan’s father roars. “Get him off! Call him back!”

  “Ozzy, release!” William shouts. “Release!”

  Ozzy only very reluctantly opens his jaw and lets go of Eli’s leg. Eli writhes and thrashes under the jacket, throwing his head back and clipping Dan’s father on the chin, sending him stumbling up against the wall.

  Dan steps forward instinctively—noticing that William has let go of him—but his father sees him and, regaining his balance, roars at him to stay back.

  Dan stops, torn between obeying his dad and stepping in to help him.

  “Josefine!” his dad shouts, nodding towards the sliding door. “Get it open!”

  Josefine has already unbuckled and is getting to her feet.

  “What are you doing?” Sebastian shouts over the roar of the engine, twisting in his seat to look back. “No, don’t do that! Don’t open! It’s too dangerous!”

  “Open it!” Dan’s father demands, looking at Josefine. “But be careful. Stay out of the way!”

  Josefine nods once, grabs the handle and pulls aside the door. As soon as it opens, Dan feels a hard tug pulling him against the door. The cool night air comes rushing into the helicopter, pressing against Dan’s eardrums, filling everything with the salty smell of the sea. Dan sees the black water below them, stretching out like a wavy blanket in all directions.

  “Step back!” his dad shouts at Josefine—unnecessarily so, as she’s already moved out of the way.

  He pushes himself off the wall and staggers a couple of steps towards the opening, his hair flapping in the wind. Eli is thrashing like an alligator in Dan’s father’s arms, looking like he might slip out of the jacket at any moment.

  Dan’s dad loses his balance for half a second, leaning dangerously close to the open door before pulling himself back and regaining balance. He seems to consider the situation for a moment, standing there, holding onto Eli tightly as the dead boy slips down another couple of inches, his arms getting a little more free and immediately begins to claw at his dad’s waistline.

  He can’t get close enough to drop him, Dan realizes with a sinking feeling. Not without falling out himself.

  Then, his father makes a decision. Instead of stepping closer to the opening, he pulls Eli back and simply throws him at the open door.

  It would have probably worked, if Eli hadn’t at the exact same moment slipped free of the jacket. Instead of plunging to the sea below, he lands on the floor right in front of the open door, grabbing hold of the frame, only one of his chewed-up legs actually makes it outside, and he’s able to fight the wind and pull it back in, beginning to haul himself back up to his feet.

  “Shit!” Dan hears his father exclaim, hesitating in front of Eli, not wanting to step any closer, and now he has nothing to fight Eli with, as the jacket has zipped out of the open door. He looks around but finds nothing within reach he can use.

  Then, just as Eli manages to get back up and is about to lunge at Dan’s father, William steps in from the side, holding onto the frame of the door and swinging his leg soccer-style, landing his foot squarely under Eli’s chin.

  Eli is thrown backwards out of the door and disappears.

  William leans forward and bellows out into the night: “Told you I’d kick you off the fucking helicopter, asshole!”

  SIX

  Dennis follows Mom who’s following Silas who’s walking slowly through the tunnel, rubbing his neck.

  As he reaches the ladder, he stops and glances back. “What now?”

  “Now you wait here. Step aside. Farther.”

  Silas backs up against the wall.

  “Dennis,” Mom says, not taking her eyes off Silas. “You climb upstairs. Make sure Jonas isn’t in the bedroom.”

  “O… okay,” Dennis says.

  “And if you try anything,” Mom goes on, addressing Silas as she holds out the doll and gently places two fingers on its head. “I’ll twist this all the way around.”

  Silas doesn’t say anything, he just stares at Mom and breathes through his nose, obviously suppressing his anger.

  “Go now, Dennis.”

  Dennis slips past her, placing the rifle over his arm like he’s seen Silas carry it. Then he scales the ladder and pushes open the hatch. Daylight comes streaming down at him as he pokes his head up into the bedroom and looks around. Jonas is nowhere to be seen.

  “He’s not here, Mom.”

  “Good. Climb up all the way. Stand in the corner and aim the rifle at the hatch. Silas will come up in a second. If he tries to make a run for it, you shoot him.”

  Dennis feels his already tense body tighten up even more. He tries to swallow, but his throat is clenched up. He climbs up into the bedroom and scuddles to the farthest corner. Then he loads the rifle—just like Silas taught him—places it at his shoulder and aims it at the opening in the floor. Listening intently, he can hear voices coming from somewhere in the house. At least three. He’s afraid that someone will step into the room at any moment.

  “You ready, Dennis?” Mom calls from below.

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “You climb up now,” Mom tells Silas.

  “Look,” Silas says, his voice changed now. It’s lower, less hostile, solemn even. “I get that you’re upset about us being here and … treating you like we did. But this isn’t going to work. You’re a smart woman, you know I’m right.”

  “I do?” Mom asks calmly.

  “Sure. Even if you use that thing to kill me, who’s going to protect you from my brother? Dennis? That boy couldn’t even kill a zombie. Jonas will kill both of you in an instant if it comes to that. Then what have you gained?”

  “Climb the ladder.”

  “I’m serious, lady. You need to think this through.”

  “And you need to climb upstairs. Now.”

  A moment of silence. Then Dennis hears Silas scaling the ladder. He appears, looks around and sees Dennis, sending him a sneer as Dennis points the shaky barrel at his chest.

  “You wouldn’t kill me, Dennis—would you?”

  “Stay back,” Dennis croaks.

  “Get away from the opening,” Mom says from downstairs.

  Silas hesitates for a couple of seconds, looking at Dennis like he’s trying to calculate his chances. Dennis’s finger is curled around the trigger, both his arms are trembling, sweat running down his back.

  Then Silas decides to obey Mom, and he steps back.

  Mom comes up through the hatch. She nods towards the door. “You go in there and call to your brother. Ask him to come.”

  Silas walks to the door and opens it casually. “Hey, Jonas!”

  A moment later, apparently coming from the kitchen: “Yeah?”

  “Could you come in here, pleeease?”

  Silas draws out the last word in a mock manner, making it sound like he’s being sarcastic. He looks over at Mom as he does it, smirking.

  Mom looks back at him betraying no emotion. She doesn’t say anything, either. She simply holds up the doll in front of her and wraps her finger gently around the neck of the doll.

  “What is it?” Jonas calls from the kitchen. “I’m about to help get Dad upstairs.”

  Silas looks from Mom’s face to the doll, his smirk withering away. Then he barks: “Just come in here, damnit!”

  Dennis can hear Jonas sigh, then tell someone: “Wait here a minute.” Footsteps approach through the living room. Jonas appears in the doorway and throws out his arms. “What is it? Seriously, dude, we need to …” As he noti
ces his brother’s face, Jonas stops talking. “What? What is it? Why are you just standing there?”

  Before Silas can answer, Jonas turns his head and looks at Dennis.

  “What the fuck?” He glares back at Silas. “How did he get the rifle, you moron?”

  Mom has been standing off to side, hidden behind the door, but now she steps to the side, revealing herself by closing the door behind Jonas.

  Jonas looks from Mom to Silas to the doll in Mom’s hands. He shakes his head. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Mom doesn’t take her eyes off Jonas as she addresses Silas: “Tell your brother what I have here.”

  “It’s a voodoo doll,” Silas says in a sour tone. “I know it sounds fucking insane, but it works, believe me.”

  “A … voodoo doll?” Jonas repeats, looking like he can’t decide whether to laugh or get angry. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No, I’m not. Don’t make her use it. She could kill me with it.”

  Jonas glares at his brother. “Did she threaten you to say that?”

  Silas shakes his head. “I wish.”

  “You don’t honestly expect me to believe this shit?” Jonas exclaims, and this time he really does laugh shrilly. “Did she outsmart you using a fucking doll?”

  “Step back a little, Jonas,” Mom says before Silas can answer.

  Jonas looks at her, then back at Silas.

  “Do it,” Silas tells him gravely.

  Jonas takes two steps away from his brother.

  Mom places her hand under the doll, its feet resting on her palm. Then, grasping the doll carefully around the waist with her other hand, she lifts the doll up a couple of inches.

  A second later, Silas starts swaying and puts out his arms as though fighting to keep his balance. Then, to Dennis’s amazement, an invisible force lifts Silas up from off the floor and hovers him a foot above ground.

  “Holy fuck!” he groans, flailing his arms. “Okay, all right, put me down!”

  Mom holds the doll a moment longer, staring at Jonas. “Do we understand each other?”