Widowmakers: A Benefit Anthology of Dark Fiction

by James Newman Benefit Anthology

  -- and that crowd should've been full of human beings instead of monsters.

  He gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and middle finger.

  The thoughts didn't change anything. He was still responsible for his sister's death, as surely as Agamemnon was responsible for the death of his daughter.

  A sacrifice of sorts.

  Donald smiled bitterly to himself then, realizing that he'd linked the story of Agamemnon to Jennifer's death so he'd remember it for the test.

  What gods did your death appease, my little sister? What victory was secured?

  He heard his father drop and shatter the beer bottle, then call out and ask Jennifer if she'd mind cleaning it up so mom wouldn't have to, he was sorry he was so clumsy....

  Donald stood at the window and saw another insect, this one crawling on the inside of the glass. It looked a lot like the other one.

  He felt the house crowding in on him as the bug reached out with its feelers.

  He didn't try to speak as he reached out, shoe in hand, and squashed the thing.

  * * *

  At twenty minutes until six he sat down on the steps of his front porch to wait for Laura, Jim, and Theresa. He'd left his father a note saying that they were going to the movies and then for pizza.

  He didn't want the man to worry.

  He looked up and saw a few neighbors peek out at him through their windows. Maybe it was just a trick of the orange-red sunlight, but all their eyes seemed to be as bloodshot as his father's. Tiny, fiery orbs with a slight pinprick of black in the middle.

  He shook his head and looked down at his hands.

  They were not shaking.

  A soft scraping sound came to him then...no, wait, not scraping, more like a crackling noise, a small, dried twig, maybe, brushing against wood.

  Behind him.

  As he turned the image of little Julie, crawling, came to his mind --

  --and left when he saw the insects.

  Ten, maybe fifteen of them, all crawling around the remains of the one he'd crushed before coming in. They piled on top of one another like children building a human pyramid, all the time scattering the mashed remains Donald had left for them.

  One insect fell from the black group and began scuttling in his direction, feelers extended, mandibles clacking.

  Donald scooted down one step.

  Another insect followed.

  Then another.

  Another.

  Donald got up and walked away from the porch.

  Soon all of the bugs were crawling toward the steps where he'd been sitting. As he stared at them Donald wondered if they, too, had little bits stuck to the bottoms of their...

  Their what? Their feet? Bugs don’t have feet.

  He looked at the writhing mass on the steps.

  They don’t have feet.

  Do they?

  He took another step back just a car pulled up and Laura called his name.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t get away from the house quickly enough.

  * * *

  Laura held his hand all the way to the concert, her head resting on his shoulder, her voice telling him that they were going to have fun, not to worry, things would be all right, she really loved him....

  He replied to her, but couldn't really hear himself.

  When he spoke he did it very slowly, and was pleased that he didn't hear himself stutter.

  Once he looked at the reflection of Jim and Theresa's eyes in the rear-view mirror, noting that the sun made their eyes bloodred and pinprick black, also.

  He felt awkwardly aware of the insect remains on the bottom of his shoe, but didn't say anything about it to Laura. She might think the Craziness was trying to come back. And he didn't want that.

  He closed his eyes once, saw something small crawling into his path, and opened them at once.

  “You okay?” said Laura, her breath warm against his cheek.

  "I think...yeah. Great. We're gonna have...fun, right?"

  She leaned close and kissed him. "Right. Now stop being such a wet sponge." He laughed. Wet sponge. That was a good one.

  Jim pulled into the arena parking lot and drove around until they found a spot; from the looks of it they were a good football field away from the entrance doors, but even here Donald could see the edge of the crowd.

  It was too damned big.

  He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, hoping that Laura wouldn't ask him what was wrong.

  She didn't, and he loved her for that.

  "All-fuckin'-right!" shouted Jim. "We have arrived!" Donald didn't know either Jim or Theresa very well, and didn't particularly want to; they were a ride to the concert, that's all. He looked once more at their eyes -- which hadn't changed -- then toward the milling crowd...

  ...did you remember to give Jennifer her gloves? You know how she hates it when her hands get cold and it's supposed to be cold tonight...

  ...make sure you call us after it's over, Donny, you know how your mother worries about you kids...

  ...ohgoddadididntmeanforittohappen...

  ...pull out drawer seven, will you, Charlie?

  He felt his mouth starting to go dry.

  They climbed out of the car, locked it, and went to grab a place in the crowd. It didn't take long for the sun to finish setting, leaving them in darkness except for the glow of the arena lights, lights that cast a cryptic sheen over everything but didn't change the fact that everyone's eyes were red and black, red and black, it just must have been a trick of the light, that had to be it, just a trick of the lights over the thousands of bodies and faces, faces in front of them, behind them, next to them, edging them forward into the immovable mass of bodies before them, beside them, a few angry shouts but nothing serious, impatient, drunken, stoned shouts, the shuffling of too many feet, the brush of too many shoulders, the clattering of too many emptied beer bottles, the smell of too many joints being passed around...

  ...Donald looked around him as he squeezed Laura's hand tighter, trying not to give into panic, a panic he felt pushing its way up from his balls into his throat, but there was at least the feel of Laura's hand, a good feeling, a safe feeling, even here, even now...pushing against them, someone was pushing against them from behind...he turned to get a look, maybe say something to them, tell them not to be so impatient, everybody paid their money and they were going to get in...but only more faces, more bodies, more red-pin-prick-black eyes that glanced around, behind, ahead, all of them meeting his own at one pint, never staying for long, and he thought for a second...a fraction of a second, that he saw a small, fragile figure making its way through the crowd, trying to get somewhere in particular, trying to get to someone in particular, but in a blink and a noisy shifting of the crowd it was gone, lost in the swirling mass of voices, eyes, and flesh...

  ...he took some deep breaths and looked down at his feet, trying to stay calm, they hadn’t been here all that long, there was no reason for him to feel so panicky, so why did he...his shoe, there was something wrong with his shoe...he bent over just a little and glared down, watching as a shadow of some kind shifted under his feet...no, not a shadow, it was a...a...a leg...no, not a leg, just part of a bug that he'd scraped off, only...wait...only it seemed to be moving, seemed to be trying to pull itself out from under his weight, a small, twig-like hairy leg squirming from under his shoe...he froze as he stared, thinking for a moment that he could hear the clatter of its hard- shell body, could see its mandibles starting to jut out from under...

  ...Laura leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, whispering something about later on tonight, after the concert, Mom and Dad weren't home and she was all alone did he wanna come over, soft promises of flesh and tongues and bodies...bodies pressing, bodies sweating, groaning, pumping steadily...he looked at her and smiled, kissed her, but felt nothing, only the sour liquid in his stomach churning around, churning and bubbling as the crowd shifted once again, and Donald looked around, feeling the sourness spread into his
mouth, drying his saliva, gluing his tongue down, unable to speak now, almost unable to breath, but then Laura kissed him again with her wet and wonderful tongue and he was all right, moist again, able to swallow, then he noticed that Jim and Theresa were nowhere to be seen...

  ...the figure again, he saw the figure again, so tiny, so frightened, and he almost moved to reach for it, but then Laura grabbed his arm and said, "You're not going anywhere without me, not in this crowd," so he pulled her along beside him, positive he'd seen...seen someone wandering around the crowd, a frightened gleam in their gaze, maybe tears streaming down their cheeks, but no one saw because she was so small, no one heard because her voice was too weak and they were too busy trying to push other people out of the way, trying to get as close to the doors as possible, that's what counted, getting ahead so you could get inside, get a good seat, toke it up, party down, drink and chug Big Time...

  ... “Christ, slow down, will you," said Laura, demanding that he give her a break, just wait a minute...Donald slowed and stood still, his eyes darting around...Laura moved closer to him, putting her arms around his waist...he took another deep breath and put a protective arm around her shoulder and said, "Are you all right?" and she said, "I'm fine, how about you, lover?" and he laughed, laughed and held her close because she'd never called him "lover" before and he liked it, liked it very much as he stretched his arms out to relax them and went to step closer to Laura...

  ...someone pushed from behind and he lost his balance, fell forward, rammed his foot out to try and break his fall but in the second before his foot connected with the pavement a child crawled out in front of him, a small child, a baby crawling, and he tried to cry out but someone else pushed and he felt his foot connect with the fragile skull, felt the baby's head pop like a melon below his foot, and his stomach heaved then but nothing came up as he looked down and saw the feelers worming around, saw the baby's arms flailing out as it kicked and wriggled in its death spasms, so he pulled back and lifted his foot, not wanting to see what he'd done but having to look...

  ...mandibles...the baby had mandibles and feelers and its legs were no longer the chubby flesh-folds of a baby’s but thin, hairy twigs that skittered out and brushed against the legs of his pants, but before he could say anything a woman broke through, picked up her mandibled child, and vanished into the crowd...

  ...Laura grabbed his arm again and said, "Whoa! Almost lost you for a second there," and he wanted to tell her, wanted to ask her if she'd seen the insect baby, but he didn't dare, didn't dare because if he did he knew she'd think the Craziness was back, and he didn't want for her to think he was crazy just because everyone else did, but then he thought that, yes, it was easy for everyone else to think he was crazy because they weren't the ones out here that night, they weren't the ones who’d pushed, hit, and kicked their way through to find that little body, little crushed body lying in the long, wide, stone hallway, one tiny gloved hand reaching out as if clutching for someone they prayed would swoop down and save them, head mashed into the cement, skin, bones, brains ground to a sickening pulp, bending low, cradling her in his arms, screaming out, crying out, a howl that was lost under the massive roar of the rock 'n' roll monsters inside, rocking back and forth, feeling her innards shift around like the pennies in her piggy bank back home under her bed...I'm so sorry, Jennifer, please...please come back...please don't be...don't be like this, dead like this...

  ...He looked around, blinking away the thoughts, swallowing back the fear, blacking out the memory of the insect baby because he knew he hadn’t seen anything like that, it was just his fear taking over and he wasn't going to let that happen, forcing away the indelible image of his sister's mangled form...just to the right, the figure was just to the right, and he moved quickly, with Laura in tow, asking him if he thought the crowd was acting all right because it seemed to her, didn't he think, that they'd been out here an awfully long time...

  ...everyone was looking his way now, looking at him through the bloodshot eyes of his father...then the figure again, moving just ahead of them, and this time he heard it cry out, not very loudly, but there was just a moment of silence from the crowd...a fraction of a moment, where all seemed to freeze in the night and allow that sound to come over and find him, so he tightened his grip on Laura and began moving again...

  ...He noticed the noise of the crowd was almost deafening now, slicing into his ears like a sub-zero wind, so he shook his head and kept moving, acutely aware that his father stared out from behind every face that turned as he passed...Laura asking about the goodies they sold inside...shall we get a program, some sweatshirts with the tour emblem on them, something to drink from the stands, what?.. .he wasn't paying much attention to her, could only think of that tiny figure lost among all these violent bodies and now...now there was the scrabbling, clacking sounds of insects somewhere behind but he refused to turn and look because then Laura would know the Craziness was back...he felt someone push from behind, yelling, "Outta my way, fuck-face!" and he lost his balance again, nearly fell forward, nearly dropped to the ground to be trampled by thousands of feet, thousands of ignorant, uncaring monsters, but he didn't fall, he kept his balance, kept hold of Laura, but the bodies were pressed tight now, pressed too tight.. .he found his breath becoming hard, labored, painful, his head was getting light, dizzy...just a little dizzy, but that he could handle, that was no problem, but that tiny figure he thought he saw.. knew he saw and heard...it needed help, needed to find someone in particular...cries, loud cries up ahead, one of the security guards was yelling into a riot horn, telling the crowd to settle down before someone got hurt...someone threw a bottle at the horn and yelled, "Open the goddamn fuckin' doors!" as the bottle shattered against the guard's helmet and scattered slivers of glass into the faces of people standing nearby...Donald remembered snatches of his father's babbling from his room across the hall sorry for bein’ so clumsy, Jenny as he pulled Laura along, trying to get to the edge of the crowd because now it looked like things were going to get ugly because another guard was shoving a gas grenade into a launcher, threatening to set it off if things didn't settle down...he looked around for some sign of the little figure but couldn’t see it, couldn't hear it, could only hear the angry shouts of the crowd and some asshole blasting AC/DC from a boombox...

  ...something about blood on the rocks...

  ...He yanked Laura hard, trying to get them out of the mob, but he couldn't budge much, he was to dizzy, there were too many eyes glaring expectantly at him, too many arms slamming fists into his back...

  ...and now Bon Scott was wailing about blood on the streets...

  ...He looked across the sea of heads, the black, wiggling sea of bodies, and saw two people who might have been Jim and Theresa shoving their way through, trying to get to them, trying to get the hell out of madness before it got really bad, this Craziness, but Donald bit down on his lip and felt something moist and hot spread over his chin because he knew that the guard was going to fire the grenade and once that happened none of them had a chance in hell...

  ...next it was blood on the sheets...

  ...Everyone in the crowd was turning toward him, staring at him like he was expected to do something, him and him alone, to stop what was about to happen, thousands of eyes, thousands of questions thrown silently through the air to slam against his head...he couldn't see any way out of the bodies...no way out...

  ...Every last drop...

  ...He could still hear the clattering chattering of the insects as Jim and Theresa reached them, but he didn't look at them...there was a loud blam! as the guard fired off the first tear gas grenade that soared through the air and landed in the middle of the crowd, vomiting out thick, burning smoke...

  ...a voice screamed that if you want blood...

  ...every eye was on him for as much as he could see...

  ...you got it!...

  ...For a moment, in the thickness of the smoke, everything seemed to freeze and the crowd parted before him, clear
ing a path between him and the tiny figure, so small, so fragile, so frightened, but as he moved toward it with Jim, Theresa, and Laura in tow, the crowd shifted in... sounds of more grenades being launched and popping off... the eyes drilling into him...he looked at the small, terrified figure on the ground, a figure that even now was swarming with insects vile and clacking, then he turned to the three people behind him.. heard his own screams of two years before echoing back to him, rocking his sister's body back and forth...

  ...Laura tried to speak, but her clacking mandibles produced no sound that he could recognize...Jim and Theresa were worming their feelers toward him...he tried to pull back but the sight of Laura’s face froze him...skittering, clacking, scrabbling forward...the stares from the crowd were making him sick, unable to breath.. .his heart triphammering in his chest...he reached back for Laura's feelers as he heard the doors swing open...

  ...and ripped her grip from his body.

  “You can have them," he whispered to the gazes, knowing it would satisfy them.

  The crowd parted before him and he ran to grab the tiny figure--

  --the screams from behind were lost under the sound of blood pulsing through his ears and temples --

  --the violence exploded all around him as he fell over the delicate body before him, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around it. For a few minutes it seemed that everything dissolved away; he was aware, as if in a dream, of shouting, pushing, crunching sounds, movement, but finally he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, stood up, and pulled the body up with him.

  Jennifer Ann leapt into his arms and threw a hug around his neck, covering his cheek in kisses and tears of her tiny fear, which must have seemed so monstrous to her.

  "I love you,”' he whispered to her, feeling his heartbeat slow to a normal rate, feeling the throbbing in his head ebb away. He promised himself that he'd never let her out of his sight again.

  He looked around until he spotted a way through the lifting gas.

  He took a few steps, then bumped into something on the ground.