Boneyard Rumblers

by Gina Ranalli

  Both Nick and Melosia rose from the table and disappeared from Helena’s line of sight. She craned her neck, but still couldn’t see behind her. A commotion began back there and then Nick was shouting “Put it down!”

  The RV came to an abrupt stop, jerking Helena to the side so hard that she fell off the bed onto the floor, her limbs tangled in the blanket. She landed hard and screamed with the agony, her screams mingling with other screams she couldn’t identify. She was beginning to black out again, but to keep from doing so, she bit hard on her lower lip and immediately tasted blood. More pain.

  You should have thought that one through, Hel, she thought as the world began to swim away again.

  A violent fight was happening elsewhere. She knew those sounds, even if she was barely conscious. She could do nothing but hope the good guys were winning but it was impossible to tell. Both men and women were screaming and even the occasional loud crash couldn’t drown out the screams.

  At some point, she was slapped back to reality. The woman with the scraggly blonde hair was straddling Helena’s waist and it didn’t seem to matter to her that Helena had opened her eyes. The blonde slapped her again, hard. Helena whimpered, which made the woman cackle like a witch.

  “Hey, baby,” the woman smiled, showing yellow-brown teeth. “My name’s Willa. What’s yours?”

  Helena tried to buck the woman off, but it was useless and amused Willa further.

  “Let me guess,” Willa said, holding one finger to her lips, tapping them, and looking away, as if she were thinking very hard. “Oh, I know! You’re Helena. I’ve heard a lot about you. And I mean, a lot! They didn’t think I was listening. They thought I was just a mute idiot, scared of my own shadow, but who’s laughing now? It’s what I wanted them to think. Not at first, but you know how it is. I just decided to play along. Be Opal’s pet, as Bliss called me. But sooner or later, pets get bored and need pets of their own. You remember Opal, don’t you, Helena? She was nice to me but then you shot her. Not a smart move on your part, but it’s okay. I forgive you. And…I’m a quick study. I know just what to do to raise you. But, unfortunately, I have to kill you first. I’m really sorry. It’s going to hurt but I’ll try to make it quick. I can tell you it won’t hurt as much as having your head caved in. That’s what happened to me. I remember it very well. I probably deserved it though, at least on some level.” She smiled again, her fangs dropping. Helena screamed and thrashed until her vocal cords were severed and she could scream no more.

  CHAPTER 30

  Gunnar Bliss had to crawl through the woods for what felt like days. He listened to sirens for a long time, but they faded the further he got away from the road and then he was on the other side, in a residential neighborhood.

  He struggled to stand and then limped his way into a back yard, holding his stomach with both hands. He found an open shed and took shelter there, curled up in the dark like a stray dog trying to get out of the rain. It smelled of soil and rotting wood, scents he was familiar with because he’d frequented so many boneyards in his day, digging and cracking open caskets, which were, back in the day, usually rotting wood.

  The bitch who’d stabbed and slashed at him with that blade-fucking Helena Rose-would have quite the surprise headed her way soon enough. As soon as he healed a bit, he intended to feed on the first person he saw. That was the thing about that ridiculous blade. He knew all about it. You couldn’t have been what he was, for as long as he was, and not pick up a few things along the way.

  While it was true the blade could reverse the raising, making a monster human again, it only worked if the monster didn’t feed before he or she was completely healed. If one fed before the healing was complete, it rendered the blade’s effects useless.

  Bliss laughed in the darkness of the shed. It hurt him to do so, but he couldn’t help it. He wished it could be Helena. Turning her would give him more pleasure than anything else he could imagine. She, like so many before her, would probably try to kill herself for years, failing over and over, not quite building up the courage to set herself on fire until she was so desperate and insane that she didn’t care anymore.

  He stayed in the shed for roughly twenty four hours, biding his time and biting back his cries of pain. He judged the hours by the light that seeped in through the cracks between the slats of wood that made the shed. When the day ended and night came again, he left the shed. He needed to feed and soon. His brain was doing strange things. It was as though someone had slipped him some kind of drug that made him feel like he was under water. The world had gone liquid and dreamy and his gut burned with the fire of every sun in the galaxy.

  And it was getting worse.

  His body told him to lie down. To sleep. But he knew what was happening and resisted. As he walked toward the back of the house whose yard he was in, he realized that at some point he’d lost his hat. His beloved cowboy hat. It angered him and he thought he would add it to the hunter’s tab. He felt naked without it. Maybe he would search for it once this next part was over.

  At the back door of the residence, he peered through the glass, trying to garner what was within. He had to peek through a break in faded yellow curtains and saw a small kitchen. No one was in it as far as he could tell. He supposed he should check the rest of the house but he just didn’t have the patience for that.

  He gave the glass a hard tap with his elbow, breaking it, then quickly reached in and turned the latch. He stepped into a simultaneously cheery and depressing kitchen and quickly closed the door behind him.

  A dim light burned over the stove. He listened, waiting to see if he would hear a shout of alarm or a dog bark. The breaking glass had been fairly loud and he fully expected whoever was in the house to hear it but either the owners weren’t home or they were heavy sleepers.

  Nothing happened and he was suddenly concerned that he may have broken into an empty house, which would be very disappointing.

  He left the kitchen, moved into a dark living room. It was clear then that most likely an elderly couple lived here. There were framed photos on the wall, which, upon closer examination, showed a family through the years. School photos of a son and a daughter which, judging by their clothing and hair styles, had been taken sometime in the 70’s and then other children, dressed in more current fashions. Grandchildren, Bliss presumed.

  He turned away from the wall and stepped into a hallway, where stairs led to the second floor. Holding the banister, he ascended, not minding the creaks the steps made beneath the wall to wall carpeting. It was a cozy home, he thought. It would made a nice place to convalesce for a while.

  On the landing at the top of the stairs, an old man stood in a bedroom doorway, pointing a rifle at Bliss’s chest.

  Bliss froze for a moment, then grinned. “Howdy,” he said cheerfully. “Sorry for the intrusion, gramps, but I’m really-and I mean really-hungry. As you can probably see from my appearance, I’ve been in an accident. A bad one. Been wandering around for quite some time. Not really sure where I am, to tell you the truth. What do you say? Give a helping hand to a fellow human being in need?”

  At first, Bliss didn’t think the man was going to reply. He just stood there, blank-faced, the weapon trembling in his hands.

  Finally he spoke.

  “Mister, I’m only gonna tell you this one time: get the hell out of my house.”

  Bliss let his smile slip. “Really? I have to admit, I’m kind of surprised. You strike me as the good Christian sort. You’re really gonna turn away a hurt and hungry man?”

  “Last warning,” the old man said.

  Sizing him up, Bliss thought he would have to do. Skinny but beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that.

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m going. You enjoy the rest of your evening, okay? Sorry for the intrusion.”

  The old man blinked and Bliss pounced on him, lunging through the air like a panther, morphing upon impact. The old man dropped the rifle and crashed to the floor with
a cry of surprise. He was nowhere near finished that cry when Bliss took out his throat to silence him before moving down the man’s body, tearing aside the blue pajama top to expose the thin, frail belly and digging in like a hungry man sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner. He’d completely hollowed out the torso before he paused to look up.

  An old woman was in the bed, sitting up, the blankets pulled up to her chin and clutched in the wrinkled hands of a dried corpse.

  “You should have been dead a long time ago,” Bliss told her as he stood up. He was already feeling quite a bit better. “You’re gonna make a decent dessert, I suppose, times being what they are.”

  He smelled urine, he realized, and held up a finger, waving it back and forth. “Did you pee the bed on my account or is this a habit with you?”

  The woman didn’t move but he could see the tears streaking down her cheeks.

  “Come on now,” he said, stepping towards the bed. “Don’t be like that. You’re contributing to the greater good, I promise. Does that make you feel any better?” He flashed his winning smile as the woman’s husband’s blood dripped from his chin and stained his sharp, glinting teeth.

  Moonlight shone in through the window, casting them both in a beautiful silver glow that was almost supernatural.

  “What’s your name, darling’?” he asked as he began to crawl up the foot of the bed towards her.

  He was unsurprised when she didn’t answer.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those shy ones, ain’t ya? Probably until you either get to know someone or you get a few drinks in you, right? Then you get all wild, am I right? Just a wild woman, begging for all the fun you can find.”

  He laughed and the smell grew worse. Now she’d actually defecated and that was unfortunate. He wrinkled his nose and waved a hand in front of his face.

  “Darlin’, that’s just nasty. You should have learned some self-control by now. How old are you anyway? Seventy? Seventy-five?”

  He was on her now, positioning himself over the scrawny legs beneath the blanket, which he grabbed hold of and pulled, sliding her from a seated position and forcing her to lay on her back.

  Finally, the old woman began to scream and Bliss was mildly concerned the neighbors might hear and that might bring problems but for right now, in this moment, he was more delighted than anyone had any right to be, be they man or beast, and he was going to take a minute to enjoy it, come hell or high water.

  “In a way,” he told her, as he placed a hand over her mouth, cutting off her scream, his claws biting into the soft flesh of her cheek. “In a way, I love you. Does that make you feel special? Because, let me tell you, it sure as hell should. I don’t say those words often. No lie. My family could tell you. I guess you could say I’m one of those fellas who’s not too big on sharing my emotions. But there’s something about you. I feel like I can tell you the truth and the truth is that I honestly and sincerely love you. You’re the reason I’m alive. I live for these moments and you, darlin’, are something truly special to me. Everything a man like me could ever want.”

  He smiled in the moonlight, happy as he’d ever been and already looking forward to what the world might offer him tomorrow. He was sure it would be something beautiful and amazing.