The Dead Parade

by James Roy Daley

  Both barrels of the weapon scraped along the elevator wall, digging a groove into the steel. Iron hit flesh. Tina’s head slammed back. A river of pain rushed through her nervous system, causing both of her eyes to pop open and both of her hands to jerk away from her body. A thousand tiny droplets sprayed into the air like red mist. Her jaw split wide enough to allow fragments of shattered teeth to roll through it. Blood splashed against the wall in an upward line.

  Mia and Elmer gasped.

  James grunted––thinking again that the shotgun was a mistake.

  Tina fell to the ground like a sack of wet laundry, making a two hundred and sixty-five pound PLUNK on the floor. The elevator bounced beneath her. A second slipped by, and then she screamed a chain of screams. Her voice was no longer hoisted in spoiled brat rebellion, but lifted in pure incontestable agony. And with each horrific scream a gush of bloody gore ran down her face, and through her jaw, and over her fingers, and across her hands, and along her arms. Her rebellious nature had been cuffed. She looked like she was drowning.

  Elmer decided to run. He took a couple quick steps towards the door that led into the 5th floor hallway. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled. The door opened an inch and slipped from his fingers. A microsecond later the door clicked shut. As Elmer fumbled for the knob, a sad, faint groan escaped his lips.

  The elevator doors began closing.

  James spun around, pushed the doors apart and stepped out of the elevator. He re-adjusted the shotgun and pointed it at Elmer. Then he pointed it at Mia––she had not budged an inch.

  Both Elmer and Mia froze.

  James screamed, “Don’t move!” Spit fell from his lips.

  Mia said, “I didn’t.”

  And that’s when the door Elmer had been toying with flew open. A man emerged. He wore black pants, black boots, and a black and grey dress shirt. He had a little potbelly and long sideburns. His eyes were kind and his dark hair was slicked back in a crooner’s fashion. He looked like Johnny Cash.

  Unfortunately his abrupt entrance was unanticipated.

  It made James flinch.

  And sure as shit, he pulled the trigger.

  48

  From inside an ocean of telephones, Mathew looked up. The massive walls that were higher than the sky began crumbling. Huge chunks of brick––chunks, the size of football fields––started to fall.

  The phones stopped ringing.

  And Mathew ran.

  He ran through the sea of telephones. He ran through desolate towns, empty cities, and rolling hills. He swam oceans with no waves. He traveled forests without life. He ran through summers with no heat and winters with no frost. He ran through roads with no traffic and farmlands with no crops. He ran over baron wastelands and across plains of nothing. He ran through moonless nights and sunless days. He ran over blank landscapes and empty spaces. He ran a thousand years. He ran for hours. He didn’t run at all.

  Time was askew. Time meant nothing.

  All was lost.

  49

  The shell ripped a good-sized hole in Cash’s front and a massive opening in his back. Parts of his stomach and spine slammed against the freshly painted brick, which seemed to explode. He stumbled against the wall with a squeal and a gust of red mist spewed free.

  Mia screamed and Bully barked non-stop.

  Elmer reached for the door, which had just begun to close.

  And James turned towards Tina. His thoughts were blackened and glistening with ancient evil. He pumped the chamber and pulled the trigger again.

  Somewhere inside his mind he could hear the word ‘wait’ being said over and over again, like, WAITWAITWAITWAITWAITWAIT… But it was too late. Another explosion happened inside his hands, accompanied with a second deafening blast.

  The shell caught Tina just below the chin. Blood exploded. The top half of her neck was destroyed and her head fell back; it hung by a loose thread of skin, dripping with gore.

  James spun around, wide-eyed and frantic. He was shouting, “Stop!”

  But Mia and Elmer were not listening to the orders of this madman, not now. Their thoughts were united with the idea of escaping. They burst through the doorway, Elmer first, Mia next. The dog followed.

  James didn’t.

  He watched in horror as headless Tina fell onto her side like an overturned keg. Blood and bone fragments poured from the stump of her neck, and along her shoulder––creating a pond on the elevator floor. Her legs twitched. Her fingers curled into themselves as if the loss of body fluids had dehydrated them.

  Then Johnny Cash’s legs buckled and he slid along the wall to the floor. He was done breathing, done thinking, done holding his position.

  James stood between the bodies like an executioner.

  Somewhere in his mind the word ‘wait’ had vanished. It was replaced with four new words: What-have-I-done? What-have-I-done? What-have-I-done?

  But the answer was simple: the answer was double murder.

  50

  James didn’t mean to pull the trigger and kill the man that looked like Johnny Cash. And although nobody would ever believe him, he didn’t mean to kill Tina either. In fact, it wasn’t even him, it was his character; it was Clint Eastwood.

  It was…

  No. These were lies.

  He killed two people within two seconds (and liked it). He took hostages (and liked it). He made threats (and liked it). He talked tough and acted tougher (and liked it).

  James was no longer an innocent victim trapped in an uncompromising position. He was a criminal. He was armed and dangerous. He had a smoking gun in his hand and dead bodies at his feet. His victim’s blood speckled his face.

  Jesus, how apparent can a situation be?

  And how the hell did this happen, James wondered. And why?

  Answers, the new killer feared, were just around the corner of his mind. He figured he knew why he did the things he did, and how he arrived in this predicament. But he didn’t know he was infected. He didn’t know that the demon’s thirst was coursing through his veins.

  After being pushed, I pushed back, he thought. Simple as that. And now there’s a decision to be made. Was it time to break down, or time to be strong?

  A moment passed.

  It was decided; he would be strong and continue on.

  The price tag would be half his sanity.

  * * *

  The elevator doors closed and gears started rumbling. Tina’s corpse was changing floors.

  James opened the door that led to the hallway and was surprised to find Elmer running towards him. When Elmer lifted his head he saw James, who––for whatever reason––was grinning like a maniac. Without pause he stopped running and turned away.

  “STOP!” James shouted.

  Elmer stopped.

  James walked, moving like a gangster with long easy strides. He dug into character and said, “Hey asshole, where’s the girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? She was with you.”

  “Yes, but we got separated.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, apartment doors were opening and closing. She ran inside one of the apartments, I guess. I would have too but no one would take me. People thought I was dangerous and they slammed the door in my face.”

  “Which door did Mia enter?”

  Elmer heard the question but he didn’t bother answering. He said, “Where’s Tina? Did you shoot her? Did you kill her? Oh God, you did, didn’t you? You killed my Tina.”

  “Which door?”

  “I don’t know,” Elmer moaned. “I was over there at the time!”

  Elmer pointed down the hallway with a steady hand. When James looked, several inquisitive people closed their apartment doors in fear.

  “Fuck,” James said. He rubbed a blood-speckled arm against his face. “Give me the keys.”

  “Where’s my wife? Is she dead? She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “Give me the fucking
keys!”

  “What?”

  “The keys. Give me my fucking keys. You still have them.”

  “Oh.” Elmer reached into a pocket and pulled the keys out; he held them up.

  “Thank you.” James said, taking the keys and stuffing them away. After a brief silence, James said, “You can go.”

  “What?”

  “Fuck man, do I have to repeat everything? Go on. Get out of here. Run away, you stupid fucker. Run. You’re free to go.”

  Elmer turned, shook his head and walked down the hallway.

  James lifted the shotgun and aimed it at Elmer’s back. But he didn’t pull the trigger. He wasn’t that far gone yet.

  But he soon would be.

  51

  As James stood near Debra’s doorway, the hallway seemed different. The walls looked darker, and felt closer. The ceiling appeared to be falling and he could hear the bugs scurrying behind the walls, he could smell the town’s decay; he could taste the blood of his victims.

  And of course, he liked it.

  But that was wrong.

  James turned the knob. The door was locked. He pulled the keys from his pocket, riffled through them, and opened the door.

  Debra stood near the balcony. She had a cell phone in her hand and she was getting ready to dial. She wore a low-cut blouse, tight jeans, and big black boots.

  “Hi babe,” James said, grasping at the ordinary, grasping at his sanity. “I’m here.”

  There was a moment of silent confusion.

  “What’s happening?” Debra asked.

  She looked at the gun, the blood, and the look of bewildered terror that had set camp on James’ ashen face. She noticed that his tie had small holes in it and hung loose around his neck. She noticed that his un-tucked, mottled shirt was open at the throat, with buttons missing at the top. Dirt and ash stained his fingers, hands and clothing. His shoes looked like they had been on fire. His hair was matted with blood and filth. Debra saw it all, and it sent a chill down her spine. She said, “My God, James. What happened?”

  James considered walking onto the balcony and throwing himself over the rail. The notion of falling five stories and making a big SPLAT on the sidewalk below was very appealing. He said, “Oh man. What happened, indeed…”

  Debra stepped back. “James… what did you do?”

  James moved towards her, slowly, cautiously. He wondered if Debra was a good person. He wondered if she was nice. It occurred to him that she probably wasn’t either. He thought about killing her. He thought about sticking his thumbs into her eyes and ramming them into her brain. He placed the shotgun on the table and sat on the couch with his head down and his shoulders slumped. He said, “I shot somebody.”

  “But why, James? Why on earth would you do that?”

  James took a deep, uncomfortable breath. He glanced at the balcony and grinned. Falling would be fun. Making a splat would be… interesting. “Debra, I’m in trouble.”

  Debra placed the phone on a table. “You shot somebody? What the hell are you talking about? Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  Feeling hurt, James looked her in the eye. “You told me to come here, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But I didn’t tell you to come here like this, with a shotgun in your hand. Look at you. You look like hell. What happened?”

  “I was in a car accident.”

  “So you shot somebody? Why’d you shoot somebody?”

  “I don’t know… it wasn’t like that.”

  “Is that thing still loaded?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You’re so stupid! I’ve called the police, you know. Just now. They’re on there way here.”

  “Oh God,” James said. He put both hands over his eyes and began to cry. “I told you not to call the police…”

  “Well, I’m not the first person to call them so don’t get like that. The lady on the phone told me that the police had already been dispatched. Everyone in the entire apartment has called the cops by now. Was that you shooting a gun out there? It was, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”

  “I told you there’d be trouble.” James said. He began shaking all over. His eyes were wild and distant. “Oh man, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Debra walked across the room, looking at the floor as if a solution had been typed across the hardwood. “Fuck James!” She screamed, feeling tears of fire surface beneath her lids. “I fucking hate you right now!”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Bullshit!”

  “No, not ‘bullshit’! I’m sorry, I really am!”

  “Did you say you were in a car accident? Did people get hurt?”

  “People died. I told you that.”

  “So you decided to kill someone, because of a car accident? Why are you here? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  James got off the couch and walked towards the refrigerator. He opened the door and drank juice from the spout (Debra hated it when he did that). He dropped the empty carton on the counter (Debra hated it when he did that too) next to an ashtray and a couple of empties. He wiped his mouth and entered the bathroom. After splashing water on his face he stepped out of the room and pulled his phone from his pocket. He turned it off and slipped it away. The last thing he needed was a call from his mother.

  Right now he hated his mother, that bitch needed to die.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” James said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “If you love me, you’ll come with.”

  “Are you out of your mind? No fucking way. I’m not coming with you. I want no part of this. I can’t become a fugitive, you idiot. I just can’t.”

  James nodded in frustration. Again, he thought about killing her. Maybe he could throw her off the balcony. That would be fun. “Okay. But I’ve got to go.”

  “That’s not fair to say, you know. ‘If I love you, I’ll go with you.’ It’s not fair at all.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’m not fair. Whatever. I don’t have time to fight about it.”

  “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Debra, not now. Please.”

  James took the shotgun from the table, noticing the evidence of girls-night. He swooped in and gave Debra a quick, awkward kiss on the cheek, while he ran a hand along her back. He needed affection so badly it hurt.

  Debra pulled away, disgusted by his touch, his filth, and the things he’d been saying. The last thing that she wanted to do was cuddle.

  James cleared his throat. “How was last night?”

  Debra forced a half-smile, thinking about the guy she’d been kissing. “It was fun. You know, nothing special.”

  James nodded and made his way to the exit shaking his head in despair. As he stepped into the hallway, Debra realized he was hurting in a way she never had, and she felt herself softening. “James?”

  “What?”

  “I love you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Of course I do.”

  James felt his eyes flutter. It was exactly what he needed to hear. “I love you too.”

  “Be careful, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “You should turn yourself in. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “No, not ‘maybe’. Definitely. You should turn yourself in and bring an end to this.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  “Will you?”

  “I can’t. At least, not yet.”

  Debra nodded. “Listen… if you want to get out of here before the cops get you, take the stairs to the basement and cut through the parking garage. It’s the only way you’ll get out of here now.”

  “The stairs, huh?”

  “The stairs to the basement, Nasa Street will be much better than Baldwin Street. Promise me?”

  “Alright.” I promise.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will,” James said. Then he closed the doo
r, disregarded her words, and headed for the elevator.

  52

  James walked quickly with his gun held low. Many residents watched him through peepholes, one man watched through an open door, and one man stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall like his body had turned to stone. If James looked at the man directly he would see color drain from the man’s face. But James didn’t look. He passed without a glimpse and opened the door that led to the elevators.

  Two middle-aged men and a young woman stood around Cash’s corpse. The woman was crying; her body trembled. The men talked with stern, despondent emotion. When they saw James the conversation ended.

  James said, “Get out of here or die.” And they were gone. He pressed his finger on the elevator button and waited patiently, not looking at the man he murdered until his morbid curiosity got the best of him.

  The pool of gore that circled Cash’s body was enormous. Had the man been alive, he would have been swimming in blood.

  “Sorry mister,” James whispered. “My finger slipped.”

  The empty elevator arrived. James stepped inside and pressed the LOBBY button. The doors closed. When they opened again twenty-one people were standing before him, trying to understand why there was a woman inside the other elevator with her head ripped from her body. Some of the people looked excited, some looked disgusted. Others seemed downright horrified.

  James raised the gun and moved it from left to right, putting everyone in the room in danger. He said, “Excuse me people. Coming through.”

  An old woman that was standing close to James shrieked. Then she fumbled into the arms of a young man. The young man pushed her away and made for the door. Somebody yelled. People started cursing and scrambling and soon enough an exodus was underway. Ten seconds later James was alone, or so he thought.