“Yeah, I still can’t believe that all my childhood memories of her are a complete lie. I remember her telling me bedtime stories, teaching me how to count in Spanish, and showing me how to dog paddle at Lake Conroe. She was like the perfect mother, then one day she was just gone.”
“Perfect mothers don’t abandon their children,” Emma reminded him, “That’s what she did to you and your father. She helped do a despicable thing and then she fled the country, leaving you to deal with the consequences.”
Thomas gave Emma a long, firm hug. “Thank you Auntie for always being there for me. I know I screw up a lot and get on your nerves, and the whole family thinks I’m a waste of skin, but you have raised me like I was one of your own. As far as I’m concerned, you are the best auntie a kid could have.”
“Oh Tommy, you’re gonna make this old woman cry.”
A muted boom permeated the car, rousing them from their brief moment of intimacy.
“What was that?” Emma said. Out the left-hand window of the truck they saw Frank standing near the gate, dancing around excitedly and pointing at something lying on the other side of the gate.
“I think Frank just shot a dog,” Thomas said, pointing at the bleeding carcass. He looked to his right and saw his Uncle Elisha’s face lit with surprise and fear. His uncle’s mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Auntie, roll down the window on your side, I think Uncle Elisha is trying to tell us something.”
Emma depressed the power window button. “Nothing’s happening.”
Thomas craned his head around the driver’s seat. No keys were in the ignition. “Frank didn’t leave the keys. I’m going to go find out what’s going on.”
Thomas had placed his hand on the door handle when Emma let out a blood curdling scream. Thomas froze when he saw the thing jump off the wall. The monster landed next to Frank and smacked him so hard across the face that Thomas saw blood spray from the point of impact. He felt his bladder let go. “Holy shit!” he said, the syllables dribbling from his mouth in short spurts. He heard his Aunt Emma suck in a lungful of air. She’s going to scream again! he thought. He threw a hand over her mouth and pushed her down onto the seat, his body landing on top of hers. “No, no Auntie!” he whispered into her ear, “Don’t make any noise, it might hear us!” Thomas lay on top of Emma, nose-to-nose, his urine-soaked pants staining the hem of her dress. He could feel her heart playing a fast and arrhythmic beat against his chest, competing with his own.
“Tommy!” Emma whispered, “Oh my god Tommy, what was that thing?”
“Shhhh, Auntie! I don’t know, I don’t know, but be quiet!” A muffled gunshot echoed through the cabin immediately followed by his Uncle Elisha screaming Frank’s name. Thomas pressed himself further into the seat, frightened tears streaming down his face.
31
Elisha rose and propped his elbows on the car’s hood, took a deep breath, and tried to steady the shaking gun in his hands. The thing had its back to him. Its surface was tarry black, with deep crevices and channels running lengthwise along its back. To Elisha, it looked as if a badly burned tree had come to life. That thing can’t be human, he thought. But it has to be, it’s wearing clothes. A pink halter top or bra was wrapped around the thing’s torso. Pink panties covered by white spandex pants clung to its grossly elongated legs. It stood on the ball of its feet, with knees that were slightly bent. Long toes curved toward the ground and its thick claws left scratches in the concrete. A movie flashed into Elisha’s mind: An American Werewolf in London. This thing reminded him of the monster in that movie. If it had a long snout like a dog, I would be looking at a fucking werewolf. A wide, wet streak of blood stained the concrete floor where it stood. The trail ended where Frank was first knocked to the ground. Bits of Frank’s flesh, each in its own small puddle of blood, littered the ground around the gate. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what it is, Elisha thought, that fucking thing killed Frank!
He fired two shots in quick succession. Bright red appeared on the thing’s back where the bullets connected with their target. It reared its head back and a high pitched squeal erupted from its mouth. It dropped Frank’s body to the ground and staggered against the gate. Elisha stood up and began to walk quickly toward the monster, intending on making his last two shots count. He walked until he got close enough to smell the thing. It smelled like the sewer. Elisha was angry. More angry than scared. He stopped and assumed the stance he practiced so often at the gun range. The instructions raced through his mind. Arms extended. Shoulders square. Knees bent. Form an isosceles triangle with your arms and shoulders. “Ha! I got your ass, you fucker!” he screamed in the direction of the monster, “I didn’t even need no goddamned silver bullets!”
The beast ignored Elisha’s outburst and wrapped both of its huge, elongated hands around the end post of the gate. It ripped the gate open, tearing the chain from the end post with a loud metallic pop. The gate somersaulted over the gate motor housing and came to rest several feet away atop the roof of a parked car. The beast crossed the gate threshold then turned and faced Elisha. It spread its arms out to its sides then spread the fingers of each hand, exposing long, razor sharp talons. It thrust its chest forward and bellowed. Its cry, an unnatural squealing, hissing sound, reverberated off the stone walls of the garage. Blood ran down two gaping holes in its chest, tinting the pink halter top it wore to a dark maroon. “Go back to hell!” Elisha screamed and squeezed the trigger. The round punched through the beast’s sternum, propelling it backward. Elisha stepped forward and fired his last shot. It caught the beast in the throat, shredding its carotid artery and severing its spinal cord. The beast dropped to the ground in a heap and was still.
Elisha holstered his gun and ran over to kneel beside his cousin Frank. “Damn it Frank,” he croaked, fighting back tears, “how many times did I have to tell you to watch your back? You were always so frigging hard headed.” He brushed Frank’s comb-over back into place with his fingers and closed the one eye remaining on Frank’s ruined face. He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer, then gave the sign of the cross. “When you get to heaven say hi to momma for me,” then he stood and walked over to body of the monster. He looked down at it. The face was wide, its brow full of cracks and crevices, like it had split and reformed many times over. Its eyes were completely black and bulbous, like an insect. A black tongue hung from its piranha-like mouth like a half-eaten snake. Amidst the tangled veins and wrinkled skin on its chest, Elisha saw the remains of what looked like breasts. “Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured, “this frigging thing is—used to be—a girl.” He was about to bend down to take a closer look when he heard a growl and looked up. The dogs had returned. Two approached from his right and another two on his left. “Ok little doggies,” he said, “let’s all stay calm now.” Elisha began to slowly walk backward, angling toward his truck. “Emma! Tommy!” He called out without turning around, “I need y’all to open the door right now!” More dogs joined the pack. Elisha now counted eight dogs advancing on him in an ever tightening semi-circle. “Emma! Tommy! Can you hear me? Open the damn door now!”
32
“Stop sniveling and get off me!” Emma said, “Go and help Frank!”
“There’s no way in hell I’m getting out of this truck!” Tommy said, “Did you see that thing? It wasn’t human!”
Emma wrenched free of Thomas’ grip and tried to sit up. “Don’t be a coward Tommy! Hurry before—”
Again, they heard the sound of gunfire, two quick shots.
“Get down Auntie!” Thomas said, grabbing at Emma’s arm.
“Get away from me!” Emma said, swatting Thomas’ hand away. She heard Elisha yelling something but she couldn’t make it out. She lifted her head just high enough so she could see what was going on outside the truck’s front window. “Oh my god!” she said, a distinct tremor of fear in her voice.
“What? What’s happening?” Thomas asked from his prone position.
Emma grabbed
Thomas’ arm and squeezed it so hard that he flinched in pain. “Th-Th-Th-That thing!” she said, “It killed Frank!” she said. “Frank’s dead Tommy! Oh my god, Frank’s dead!” She watched as the beast yanked the gate off its foundation and sent it tumbling end over end. Sparks flew as it skidded over the concrete then smashed into the front quarter panel of a late model Porsche, spun once, then fell noisily onto the Porsche’s roof. The beast turned around and that’s when Emma saw its face. It was not human, she was sure of that. It was a demon. “Oh my dear Jesus!” she screamed and ducked back down between the seats and cowered next to Thomas.
A high pitched squealing, hissing noise filled the cabin. They heard Elisha voice shout “go back to hell!” and then the sound of two more gunshots, much closer this time, pierced the air. Emma jumped at the noise.
“It’s gonna be ok Auntie,” Thomas said, “we’re safe as long as we stay inside the truck.” He stroked what remained of his aunt’s beehive hairdo, smoothing the tuffs of hair that had gone askew.
Emma’s eyes grew wide and she jerked away from Thomas’ touch. “Stop hiding and go help your uncle!” she said.
“What? No!” Thomas said, “Uncle Elisha’s the one with the gun, let him handle it!”
Emma clamped her hand around Thomas’ throat and dug her fingers into his neck until she could feel his windpipe in the palm of her hand. She pushed her face close to his until her lips touched his cheek. She spoke in a quick whisper. “You listen to me, you little pisspot! Jenkins men do not shy away from trouble, they face it! Don’t be the queer that the rest of the family believes you are, be the man I tried to raise!”
“Emma! Tommy!” they heard Elisha call out.
Elisha! Emma thought. Emma pushed Tommy away from her and sat up to look out the window. Elisha was walking backward toward the truck. Four dogs were stalking him and several more were pouring in through the gate entrance.
“I need y’all to open the door right now!” he said. Emma had never heard so much fear in her brother’s voice. She reached for the door handle.
“Auntie, don’t open that door!” Thomas said. He wrapped both arms around Emma from behind, putting her into a bear hug.
“Emma! Tommy!” Elisha called again, “Can you hear me? Open the damn door now!”
“Let me go Tommy!” Emma said, “Open the door!”
“No! Open that door and the dogs will get us too!”
Emma struggled against Thomas’ embrace. “What are you doing? Elisha’s in trouble! Let me go! Open the door Tommy!”
God, she’s strong for an old woman! Thomas thought. Thomas had to lock his arms together by grabbing his wrists to keep her from wiggling free. She was kicking the door relentlessly with the thick heel of those old woman shoes she was so fond of, so much so that her beige opaque stockings were bunching up around her ankles. Thomas was trying to pull her closer to him and felt a momentary pang of disgust as his auntie’s flaccid breasts pooled around his forearms. “Auntie, stop kicking! You’re going to hurt yourself!” Emma didn’t respond, she just kept kicking at the door. Why is she kicking at the door? What good is that going to do? he thought, his mind distracted by the sick thought that he was in the back seat of a pickup truck feeling up his elderly aunt in order to prevent her from saving his uncle from being maimed, or possibly killed, by a pack of rabid dogs. All because you’re a scared little shit. Yeah Thomas, you’re a real sweetheart of a nephew. Thomas’ train of thought was derailed by the sound of the door lock disengaging. His Aunt Emma had managed to get her toe under the door handle and pull it free.
“Elisha!” she shouted and kicked open the door.
33
Elisha was afraid to move any further. He peeked over his left shoulder. He was only about twenty feet from the truck. The truck was rocking wildly on its suspension and he could hear muffled arguing coming from its interior. What the hell is going on! he thought. The dog pack had steadily grown in number until he was confronted with about fifteen animals. Those directly in front of him hadn’t moved any closer but he noticed a couple of them had broken off from the pack and disappeared from his peripheral vision. The closest dog, a German Shepard, was only about ten feet away. Drool fell from its mouth in long strands, its snout looked like it had been broken in three places. It stared at Elisha without blinking. What are they waiting for? he thought. He slowly reached for the gun in his holster. I’m empty but maybe I can scare’em off with it. As soon as his hand touched the butt of the gun, the German shepherd and two others, a hairless, diseased looking pit bull and an emaciated Rottweiler, bared their teeth and began to growl at him in unison. He immediately stopped going for the gun and raised both hands in the air. “Ok ok hombres, just relax now. Nobody wants to hurt anybody, right little doggies? We’re all friends here.” He was contemplating whether he should make a run for it when he heard a welcome sound. He looked back and saw the truck door swing open. “Elisha! Elisha, come on!” he heard his sister say.
All the dogs pounced at once.
As Elisha turned to run, a realization came to him, They were waiting for someone to open the door! He made it far enough to grasp the edge of the door with one hand before the first dog reached him. A sharp pain exploded right below his left calf. “Aaaaaah!” he screamed. His leg jerked involuntarily and he felt something rip. The pain was excruciating. He fell to his knees just as another dog, some sort of poodle, tore into him just below his right armpit. He lost his grip on the door and fell to the ground, landing on his back. He instinctively crossed his arms over his face to protect himself as the dogs descended on him, snarling and nipping at him and each other in a frenzy. “Aaaaaah! Stop! Stop! Get off me!” he screamed as the dogs tore chunks of cloth and flesh from his arms and legs. The dogs ripped muscle and tendon from bone, paralyzing him. The pain overwhelmed him and his bowels let loose. The sound of his voice screaming in agony filled his ears. He was being torn apart, his body forced into a haphazard spin, as the dogs fought for dominance over the rights to consume his flesh. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling spun crazily around him as delirium set in. He heard his sister’s screams coming from inside the truck. The lights above him started to dim, the darkness closed in from the edges of his vision, like he was walking down a long, dark tunnel. The stench of his own waste started to fade and the pain he felt began to dull. He felt the tug of the dog bites but no longer felt their pain. He glanced in silent horror at the sight of his left arm. It was a bloody pulp of meat, devoid of recognizable form. Two dogs circled around the pile of flesh, growling and whipping their heads back forth, fighting over bits of crushed bone and marrow. A dog’s snout suddenly filled his view, the artificial light forming a multi-colored halo around its short cropped ears. He could feel the warmth of its breath on his lips and the dampness of its nose on his skin. “What cha gonna do doggie, kiss me goodbye?” he said, and coughed up a short laugh filled with blood before the pain in his chest put an end to it. Then Elisha felt something on his throat. It was warm, wet, and sharp. “Uh uh uh,” were the last sounds Elisha Jenkins uttered as the pit bull slowly crushed his windpipe in its powerful jaws.
34
“Elisha! Elisha, come on!” Emma screamed as the door swung open.
“What the hell are you doing?” Thomas said as he threw her aside and tried to scramble past her to close the door.
But he was too late.
Emma had fallen to the floor and was pinned between the front and rear seats. A large bulldog appeared at the open door. It jumped up and snapped at Emma’s feet, which were hanging past the door frame, about three feet above the garage floor. It missed her ankle but bit into the heel of Emma’s shoe and ripped it from her foot as it tried to pull her from the cab.
“Tommy, help me!” Emma said. She was kicking frantically as more dogs crowded into the open door.
Thomas leaned down to pull Emma up onto the seat when a gold and white blur plowed into him, knocking him backward into the door on the opposite side of the cab. Thoma
s kicked and punched frantically at the ball of hair and muscle sitting in his lap. The dog bared its teeth and lunged at his face. Hot air and the smell of rotting meat filled Thomas’ nostrils as he pushed the dog away, its jaws snapping shut just inches from his cheek. The dog momentarily lost its balance and its front legs slipped off the seat and onto the floor of the truck. Thomas panicked. Auntie! he thought, The dog is right on top of… Thomas looked down. His Aunt Emma was gone. Where…? Thomas thought, but he didn’t have time to dwell on his aunt’s whereabouts before the dog turned and gathered itself for another attack. The dog had a big head and floppy ears. Thomas guessed it was some sort of Labrador. He quickly put his legs together, brought his knees to his chest, and kicked the dog in the ribs as hard as he could. The dog was launched sideways out the door. It dropped over the lip of the door runner and disappeared. Thomas quickly scrambled to his knees and was about to lean out the truck to grab the door handle when the front windshield exploded. Thomas pressed himself against the seats and curled into a fetal position as a series of rapid gunshots—the sound of machine gun fire—rang out. He screamed incoherently as a hail of bullets ricocheted through the cabin. After several seconds, the gunfire ceased. Thomas slowly lifted his head. The interior of the truck was littered with pebbles of glass.
The Scourge Page 30
