The Dead Parade

by James Roy Daley

  After crawling thirty feet, Elmer allowed himself to breath a little. He looked over his shoulder. A half-mile away or so—it was hard to tell for sure—a campfire was lighting up the beach. It looked like a group of teenagers were getting drunk together, maybe four or five of them. One was playing the guitar and singing a song that sounded like Bob Dylan. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Did teenagers like Bob Dylan? Somehow he doubted it. He wondered if any of the teens had heard Helga screaming. If they did, they didn’t seem to care. More importantly, they didn’t look as if they were planning on acting on it.

  Elmer pushed on, somewhat confident now, making more noise then before. He spotted a man and a woman walking along the shoreline holding hands. The couple had a dog, which ran in circles alongside them. Elmer stood up and began walking towards the people, thinking: kill them. But why? And how? He didn’t have a knife or a gun. He also didn’t have a reason. These people weren’t looking for trouble. They weren’t suspicious of him in any way. They were just another twosome walking along the beach. Just walking, he thought––a husband and wife perhaps. They were probably in love. Married. Kids. Families. But he wanted to kill them. And they were closer now, twenty feet away.

  Nineteen.

  Eighteen.

  Seventeen.

  And he still wanted to kill them.

  The dog ran away from the couple, towards him. It barked once, then twice. Then, as the dog bounced and leapt and wagged its tail, Elmer considered the way that he must look after killing the old couple. Like a lunatic, he thought. His face and shirt, covered in blood, his knuckles sandy and raw; his hair matted to one side. It was the aftermath of combat.

  He mumbled, “Where the fuck is Switch? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

  Fifteen.

  The dog was at his heels, still barking.

  Whroof. Whroof. Whroof.

  “Hello!” The lady on the beach said, nodding her head and smiling.

  Then the man waved.

  Twelve.

  Elmer raised a hand as his shoe clipped a sandy wave in the beach. He ran his tongue across the grime of his teeth and could still taste the salty aftertaste of Franco in his mouth.

  Ten.

  “Hello,” Elmer said with a grin. “Nice night for a stroll, isn’t it?”

  Nine.

  Eight.

  The couple didn’t say another word. Their faces were blank and expressionless.

  89

  The man in the car was old and tired and hung-over and wanted no part of Mia’s bullshit. He hit the gas, flipped Mia the bird and drove around her, heading for the bar. Fortunately for Mia, another car was right behind the first. It stopped without hesitating and Mia jumped into the back seat.

  “What are you––?”

  “DRIVE!” Mia shouted. “SOMETHING’S CHASING ME!”

  The driver’s mouth popped open and he hit the gas instinctively. The car shot ahead with tires squealing. Mia spun around and looked through the back window as the area shrunk away. She was breathing heavy and panting.

  It’s over now, she thought. It’s over.

  Then she thought, isn’t that what James said? Something’s chasing me?

  She felt her skin crawl.

  “Who’s chasing you?” The man behind the wheel asked. He was confused, but not upset. His name was Alex; he was a nice guy. He was thirty-something, good looking. He worked with a Web Development company and was quite gifted. He was also single, talked like a teenager, and couldn’t help noticing the curves of Mia’s body. She looked voluptuous; he liked that. Most thirty-something teenagers did. Then again, Alex liked most women that gave him the time of day and he took what he could get more often than he’d like to admit.

  “I don’t know,” Mia said. “Just go! Go!”

  “But where am I taking you? I don’t know what you want!”

  “Get away from here! Turn right and keep going!”

  “Do you like, mind telling me what’s going on? I can drive you somewhere, as long as it’s like, close and you’re not an asshole, but I wanna know why I’m doing it, ya know? That’s just the way I am.”

  Mia gazed out the window. It was amazing how normal everything seemed. The houses were all sitting in a neat little row, cars were either parked or driving, traffic was smooth and people were going about their business. She pulled her eyes from the scenery and leaned on the front half of the seat. Her heart was racing in her chest.

  She said, “Do you know what happened today?”

  “I sure do,” Alex said. “Everything’s been happening today. It’s been nuts and crackers around here. Or are ya, like, talking about what happened inside that building you came running out of? Because if you are, then, yeah. I know about that too. I live there. I’ve lived there for six years, or is it seven? I don’t know. Six or seven. I live on the fifth floor. It’s a pretty nice place if you ask me. It’s fancy. I can see half the town from my balcony, and that’s alright by me.”

  “You live there, huh? So do I.”

  Alex snatched a better look at Mia. Even in her frazzled state she was gorgeous, which went a long way with Alex. He loved beautiful women. If only he could find one to love him back.

  He said, “Really? You live there? Do you live on the fifth?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh wow. Jesus dude, what are the odds of that? Do you know Debra? I live next to her!”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh, you should meet her. She’s great. She’s a cute girl, dark hair, smoker, likes to dress like a slut.” Alex’s eyes widened as he stuck his knuckle in his mouth, looking embarrassed. He fumbled his words, trying to undo the statement. “Well, come on, like, you know what I mean. She wears loose tops and stuff. Half the time you can see her… well, you know. You can see her breasts.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. She didn’t care about Alex’s careless tongue or the girl he was talking about. She didn’t care about anything. She said, “Up until a couple weeks of ago my time was divided between my job and my boyfriend. Now they’re both gone and I have a dog.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.”

  “I thought you looked familiar,” Alex said. He was lying, of course. He was just trying to impress her, land a date. Score a wife.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, after a while you get to know the people in the building. Some people I see all the time. I don’t see you all the time, but I recognize you.”

  “I’m the girl that escaped from the killer today. My face has been all over the news. Maybe that’s why.”

  “You are?” Alex was shocked. “Why aren’t you at the police station?”

  “I was there for three hours.”

  “That’s wild. I heard that bad stuff was happening today. So, like, who’s chasing you? Is it the killer? Is he like, in the building again?”

  Mia shrugged and rubbed a hand across her face. For the first time since she jumped into the car she thought about her parents. She had forgotten somehow. During her getaway all she could think was: RUN. And that’s what happened. She ran. But now a back-catalog of sorrow and horror was re-surfacing and it hurt like hell.

  Alex said, “Someone told me that the killer was Debra’s boyfriend, but I don’t know about that. I know him pretty well. James is his name. It doesn’t seem to fit if you ask me.”

  His words seemed to be a question that Mia didn’t answer. A breath of silence came between them, and although Alex had plenty left to say on the topic he held his tongue as long as he could. The silence lasted three seconds.

  “Yeah, I know James,” Alex continued. “He’s quiet sometimes, he’s loud sometimes. Jeepers-peepers, sometimes he tells funny stories. We went to a Halloween party together one year… Debra likes him quite a bit and I bug her about it all the friggin’ time. She takes it well. You’d like Debra. I’ll like, introduce you, if you want. I’ll introduce you to James too.”

  “No thanks.”
>
  Alex made a dumb face. “Come on. Don’t be like that. They’re good people.”

  “I need to go to the police station,” Mia said. Then she put her hands over her face and cried her eyes out.

  90

  The Bakisi left Mia’s apartment and killed two boys. They were standing in a hallway, talking video games. The incantation took them both on a once, exterminating them quickly by crushing their hearts. Later, the medical teams involved would list the deaths as suspicious, but autopsies would show something different and force the unlikely assumption of natural causes. Not that the Bakisi would know this, or care. The Bakisi had no interest in the thoughts or politics of man, for the beast was untouchable and eternally alone. And man could do nothing to stop the instinctive nature of the creature, or condition it to the will of the human race. Nor could man understand the Bakisi’s unchanging and ageless temperament, which never faltered and never modified.

  After the Bakisi killed the boys it searched the building––floating but not floating, touching walls and floors but not touching walls and floors. The molecules inside the being separated; they stretched over several meters. It was in this way––with condensing and expanding molecule densities––that the Bakisi was capable of traveling through its surroundings, suspended inside the atmosphere, drifting through the physical objects it encountered. Its science was indistinguishable to the human eye.

  The Bakisi floated high above the building. It could see the trees, streets, people and cars. It could see the buses, buildings and sidewalks. It circled Martinsville like an eagle, in a wide tracking ring. It searched the beaches of the south and the forests of the north. It searched the hills, valleys and roadways of both east and west. Then it swooped down, gliding through the streets of Martinsville, checking the houses, schools, swimming pools and parks.

  Hunting the woman scent, which for the time, seemed lost.

  91

  Alex pulled the car to the side of the road, bumping the curb, forty-five feet away from the mammoth doors of the police station. As the curb and rubber met, Mia wiped a hand across her chin and looked down. She eyed her legs for no distinguishable reason, thinking about the things she had seen. She noticed a smear of blood on her left knee and drops of blood on her right. She couldn’t finger the moment it happened, but it did happen. All of it: the bloodstains on her clothing was proof––solid, undeniable proof.

  A deep, ugly sickness threatened to consume every last morsel of her being. But she didn’t want to be sick. She didn’t want to cry more. She had cried enough and wanted to get going, see the police and try to understand what the hell went wrong.

  Keeping her eyes on the bloodstain, Mia said, “Thank you Alex. You’ve been great.” Then she lifted her chin, placed a hand on the door handle and applied some force. The door opened. Mia slid one foot outside.

  Alex twisted towards her.

  “No worries,” he said with a soft, disadvantaged tone. “I’m glad to help you out.”

  But the truth, Alex knew, was slightly different than he wanted to admit. The truth was––he was glad to have met her, regardless of the circumstance. He needed a woman in his life; he needed one bad.

  Somewhere overhead, the Bakisi detected Mia scent. It changed course, and began moving in a straight line, faster and faster. Plummeting.

  Alex said, “Hey Mia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I know this is a bad time and everything, and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. Honest I’m not. But if you want to hang out later and you like, need someone to talk with, I’m right down the hall. I’m less than sixty feet away. And I’m a good guy, a good listener. At least, that’s what my friends tell me.”

  “Thanks Alex. I appreciate that. You’ve been great.”

  “You know which door is mine, right?”

  “Five-fifteen.”

  “Five-fifteen. That’s the one. Don’t hesitate to give me a ring anytime, day or night. I’d love to see you again, under different circumstances of course. Maybe we could like, get together for a drink or something.”

  Mia nodded, stepped outside and closed the door tight.

  Alex rolled the window down and leaned out. “And don’t worry,” he said. “Things are bad now, but like, things will get better. I promise. Things always get better.”

  “Thanks again Alex. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Do you want me to come inside with you?”

  “No, no. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  Mia walked a staggered line towards the giant police station doors, feeling a significant amount of sadness. Her parents were dead, murdered. But why––and what the hell happened?

  Two police officers rushed past with shoulders wide and stern. They moved like they were in a hurry. Mia snatched a quick, careless glance, and realized that both cops had thick mustaches and wore dark, thick-rimmed sunglasses. With the uniforms, the men looked almost identical. And gay. It was a stupid observation, but for some reason it prompted Mia to stop walking and turn around.

  Alex was still there, watching.

  She looked at Alex and her thoughts changed route. She felt her fingers tighten into fists and her muscles tense. She hated it when guys offered too much attention. It made her feel like a piece of meat and today that was the last thing she needed. Guys were always hitting on her, it seemed. After a while it felt less flattering and more insulting.

  But Alex seemed different than the others, somehow.

  Sure, he wanted to get laid, of course—but he was sweeter than most guys she encountered. He was cute and he carried himself with a youthful quality she hadn’t seen in a while. And he did help her out in her time of need. He did. That had to worth something––a knock on the door, a cup of coffee, an open mind.

  Looking Mia up and down, Alex waved.

  Mia returned the gesture, just as the image of her father came to her. He was propped up against the counter. His face was swollen and red; blood ran down his neck.

  Satan is with us, he had said. Satan.

  Jesus.

  Mia wanted to think that her father had gone crazy, but she didn’t. Something happened; something she didn’t understand.

  Alex, who had no idea that Mia was so upset, opened his mouth, preparing to unleash one last mouthful of words, one final awkward attempt to bring Mia into his life. The words never came.

  The Bakisi came instead.

  Mia was thrown to the concrete ground. Her neck snapped twice; it tore open and a jet stream of blood cascaded into the air like a fountain.

  Alex found himself jumping out of the car and running towards her.

  What’s happening here? he wondered.

  Then ice-cold fingers circled his neck and a pressure he had never known crushed his throat. He heard a woman scream. His eyes bulged and his face was forced into his chest. With knees buckling, Alex fell to the ground and rolled. And in his final moments, before the police would come running (those same two men that Mia assumed were gay), he watched blood gush through a growing hole in his dress shirt, knowing—but not quite understanding—that his ribcage was being pulled apart.

  92

  Three bedrooms, one bathroom, one common room and two exits: that was Debra’s cottage. The common room was a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and the gateway to the outdoor patio (which overlooked the beach) all in one. On the other side of the cottage, a hallway with a door at the end of it divided the four remaining rooms: two bedrooms on one side, bed and bath on the other.

  It was in this hallway that James found himself hiding.

  After James had fallen, he searched until he found the shotgun. Then he ran inside the cottage, threw the box of shells on the dining room table, pulled the box apart and pumped shells into the chamber. This took time, lots of time. Too much time. And when he was ready to step outside again––to save the screaming woman, or shoot the screaming woman, or pull down his pants and give it a good yank, or do whatever it was that his crazy mind was thinking o
f doing––he felt it was too late. The screaming had ended. The time had come and gone.

  James stepped outside slowly, biting on his lower lip. Not enough to make it bleed, just enough to make it hurt. His heart rate stabilized. He no longer felt a sense of urgency. He felt something else, something comparable to stupidity. Creeping outside, into danger, into a dark open space––it wasn’t exactly the play of the day.

  He returned indoors like a coward and swiftly locked both doors. Then he turned the lights on, closed the bathroom door and the bedroom doors. It was all about the common room and the hallway now, nothing more. The common room was almost empty. The hallway was as clean as a whistle. The other rooms were shut off and were no longer an issue.

  He looked over his shoulder, scratching his head. Where was it? Where was the killing machine? What was it waiting for? Where was it hiding?

  Come on––

  After sneaking from window to window James cowered in the hallway. His fingers gripped the weapon like he was trying to kill it. His eyes were wide and glossy; his hair was a damp and tattered mess. He could smell the oak and pine of the cottage, and occasionally he would mumble, and give himself warning: stay quiet… stay quiet… stay quiet…

  Because it was here, the killing machine was here. He needed to keep his wits.

  93

  Thoughts and conversations swirled through Debra’s mind in sporadic isolated chunks. A surge of anger and frustration raced throughout her frayed and battered emotions.

  She hated James. Hated him!

  She slammed a hand against the steering wheel before pushing on the gas pedal. The engine awoke from its half-slumber, pitching up two notches. The trees blurred in the darkness; the road raced beneath the wheels. Small drops of rain bounced lightly against the windshield, and then the raindrops grew––size and weight doubling, tripling, quadrupling. Just as Debra flicked the wipers on a crack of lightning thrashed against the skyline.