How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9)

by Linda Addison

  I’m emailing you from someone else’s computer because you won’t accept my emails anymore. They are quite smart at this computer network stuff. They figured out a way to get through your security firewall.

  You have left me with no choice. A virus is encoded in this message. They said something about hijacking a proxy and passing things called packets into your network. I understand that just accessing this email will trigger a destructive routine that will randomly scramble parts of your memory, including this email.

  I don’t understand all this computer talk but welcome to the real world of flesh and blood.

  From: ploye Befits partm

  To:

  Subject: Re:ew Bene tem

  I have a headach…

  Comic Cannibals

  Can’t sleep, won’t sleep

  clowns wait there

  lingering in dreamy corners

  with their painted faces

  ravenous outlined mouths.

  Red, blue, yellow swatches

  sharp teeth turned into smiles

  with tumbling tricks that dazzle

  powerful bodies hidden

  beneath polka dot bibs.

  What will you say

  what will you think

  when you find my bones

  after they swarm out of dreams

  onto my sheet

  and picnic on my soft meat?

  Working Up the Corporate Ladder

  “Did you hear that Taylor’s out?” Sam asked as he started his warm-up on a stationary bicycle next to Roxanne.

  “What happened?” Roxanne knew what he was going to say but didn’t want to spend too much time talking since she was at the end of a four minute interval of RPE (Rate of Perceived Exertion) level nine on her bicycle. She had been using the Bruce Protocol during overtime to build up her endurance.

  Sam looked up and down at the endless row of bikes; most empty since there was a treadmill class being conducted that had become popular with the early morning crowd. “Taylor had to cut out his exercise program because he came back from vacation with a back injury.”

  He glanced quickly at her thighs bulging under the dark blue tights; she had the best glutes in the department. He’d heard her bonus last year was significant.

  It was clear in the beginning of her career in accounting that she had to build on the natural strengths of her legs if she was going to get anywhere in the accounting corporation.

  “That’s a tough break for Taylor,” Roxanne said. After Roxanne found out about Taylor through her own contacts Roxanne re-designed her exercise program to put her in a good shape to replace him. Her manager had already hinted that the corporation was going to review Roxanne’s records to see if she was up for handling some of Taylor’s bigger clients. This was her chance to show she was fit for the added responsibilities.

  “Yeah, especially a back injury,” Sam said. “My sister had a herniated disk and she never recovered enough to handle the same level of workout after it healed.”

  “She has a career in the stock market, right?” Roxanne asked.

  “One of the top companies on Wall Street. I’m telling you, we’ve got it easy in accounting. You should see what their entry level exercises are like, don’t even try it unless you’ve got a health age of 25 or less.”

  Roxanne lowered her cycling level to cool down. “Did your sister have insurance?”

  “Absolutely, she has the best disability coverage money can buy, which is a good thing because she’s probably going to be on a desk job for a while. They think after surgery she may be able to do step aerobics and a slow walk on the treadmill, definitely lower level positions but her insurance will give her supplemental income.

  “Grapevine says Taylor had minimal insurance coverage.” He shook his head, “I guess he was taking a chance on being under thirty. I bet he’s going to end up punching the clock from a desk eight hours a day with no chance of advancement.”

  Roxanne climbed off the bike. “Bad planning on his part. Well, see you at the three o’clock status meeting in the weight room.”

  Sam watched her walk away. Her back definition took his breath away; she had amazing deltoids and latissimus dorsi. He wasn’t going to beat her statistics but she’d make a strong partner. Maybe he should ask her out. He shook his head, why would she be interested in him when she had the pick of the best bodies in the executive level.

  She uploaded a summary of her Personal Health Evaluation to her private account. Her aerobic level was at an all time high, combined with her total cholesterol ratio and solid differential percentages left no doubt in her mind that her career could only go up from here.

  Animated Objects

  We are neither wooden chairs

  nor neon-lit apples

  nor raven tipped dream snakes.

  We are

  rainbowed

  running creatures,

  long-limbed

  sometimes

  short winded

  often soft

  often hard,

  love at its best

  at its worst.

  Extraordinary mistakes

  mistaken genius

  bottled

  beaten

  buffed.

  We are here

  to fly with the wind

  howl at the moon

  rise out of light, grey charred ashes

  and dance barefoot

  on our own graves.

  Live and Let Live

  Everybody knew those twin girls raised themselves, because their mother was touched in the head and they did have a different way of being. So in the end folks from the neighborhood weren’t surprised when the aliens landed on their roof.

  They weren’t like any kind of twins anybody had known. I’ve never seen them together up close, only from a block or two away. Soon as I got closer there was only one, like the other had stepped behind and become a shadow.

  Fact is, folks wondered if they were twins, except for seeing one of them walk away, then the other one walk by dressed differently. Whenever they were near I couldn’t help notice the lavender scent filling the air. It lingered after they left. I felt so relaxed I wanted to go to sleep. It had the same effect on most people.

  There was talk among the older folks of magic or demons. I never believed those girls were evil; far as I know there’s not one thing anyone can say they’ve done to hurt anyone, other than that unnatural calming effect when they were near.

  Anyway no one can control people talking and folks in the neighborhood loved to talk about them. The twins didn’t talk much. They always smiled at me though, had the prettiest smiles, white perfect teeth. Honestly now that I think about it, I can’t remember anything important that I talked to them about. Must have been how’s the weather, how’s your Mom, stuff like that, you know.

  Nobody ever saw them go to school. I’m guessing they were home-schooled because they seemed polite and intelligent. Groceries were delivered every Monday. We’d only see their mom peeking out the curtains of the house every now and then. That wasn’t any different than before their mom’s parents died. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone go in the house after that so it’s a mystery how that girl got pregnant in the first place.

  I know you reporters can’t imagine a whole neighborhood not causing a ruckus about them, but we’re mostly live and let live here. Of course, now that the space ship is on their roof everyone is asking questions. The government has the whole block cordoned off and surrounded by all kinds of weapons. Scientists are trying to see what’s happening in the house, but they can’t because there is some kind of force field around it and the space ship. That’s about the biggest ruckus I’ve ever seen up close and personal.

  The only reason I’m here talking to you is that they tested my DNA to prove I was human. I figure any alien smart enough to figure out how to get to Earth in the first place could fake out any test, but it’s just like the government to think they�
��re smarter.

  I can’t tell you if those girls are human or not. All I can say is they never did anything to hurt anybody. Maybe they are from another planet or maybe their daddy was and maybe they wanted to see how we do things here on Earth. Can’t see how that’s anything to be afraid of.

  But you reporters like to put out news that gets everyone excited and scared. The government’s not much better. Maybe if everyone just left them alone they would come out the house and talk to you.

  Well, that’s all I’ve got to say. I’m leaving town to go visit some relatives. You all look kind of sleepy. Maybe all the excitement has tired you out. Why don’t you just close your eyes and take a little nap? You’ll feel much better when you wake up.

  Bending

  Bending like light,

  fear circles my heart,

  there are no words

  for the lost path.

  They will eat my dreams,

  sleep in my shadow,

  lick dharma from my breath,

  there are no words for the losing battle

  between birth and death.

  Those who would dance

  in the ashes of my smile,

  hide in the corners of my mind,

  leave me crossing my heart,

  hoping not to die this day.

  If bending like light is being alive

  then I will live another day.

  Am I Repeating Myself?

  ANOMALY REPORT #27RC393

  BEGIN DOCTOR’S OBSERVATION:

  The doctor shifted in his leather chair. He bit at a corner of his thumb nail, spread his palms on the dark mahogany desk and looked at both sides of his hands before lowering them to his lap. He looked up at the monitor, straightened when the green light came on.

  “Computer, open Case 101B.”

  “File opened, Doctor,” the computer’s soft voice answered.

  “Prepare for evaluation. Replay the last interview with the patient.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  The screen showed a thin, dark-skinned woman in a hospital gown, seated opposite the doctor. She pulled a strand from her cloud of tangled hair with one hand, placed it in her palm, pulled another hair out. After a few seconds she began to talk.

  Did you ever wake up one morning and feel everything was wrong? That’s how today started. I opened my eyes to Ralphie sitting on my dresser, licking his paws. I woke to that grey striped cat every day for seven years. Nothing strange about that. But today every move he made seemed like a rerun of a movie. Every move I made was an echo. I felt out of place. My oak bed, the beige walls, even my worn blue slippers felt strange and familiar at the same time.

  I shrugged it off as déjà vu. I took my shower, gulped a cup of coffee and rushed out to the subway. Things started falling apart as I left the subway station. Deep in the herd of workers crowding onto the escalator to the street, I started noticing the people around me.

  There was a familiarity that didn’t make sense. I tried to ignore the feeling. But the voices, the bumping into bodies, felt like, well, you know how it is to bump into someone you know well. There’s warmth, an acceptance. When you bump into a stranger you want to move away.

  I tried to shake the feeling. It wouldn’t go away. The crowd got thicker. Their eyes bore into me. I knew them, all of them. My heart pounded. I couldn’t get enough air. I had to get away, to think. Try to understand what was happening.

  I pushed through them. People yelled, pushed back. An old man fell in front of me. I started to climb over him. Others shoved me to the ground. Held me down. They yelled at me, asked me questions. I started screaming. I didn’t want to hear the sameness in their voices. I screamed and screamed.

  The police came and put me in an ambulance. They tied me down. Someone gave me a shot that made me sleep. I woke up here.

  We’ve never met, right?

  But, I know you. Your voice, your eyes. Like mirrors. Like theirs. Like mine. Everyone is me. I understand, now that I’ve had time to rest and think about it. We’re all made from the same kind of cell. Someone has taken one cell and made copies of people. See this hair in my hand? Each hair could be used to make hundreds of me, of you. It’s like something out of a science-fiction story. I don’t know why someone would do this or why I suddenly realized it.

  You think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. I understand now. I know that everyone is me. In this city, maybe in the whole world.

  I can’t go on, now that I know. Maybe you can help me forget. So things will be like they were. I just want to forget. Please. Help me.

  The patient buried her face in her hands and broke into tears.

  “Computer, end playback.” The doctor wiped his sweating hands on his pants before crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.

  The monitor changed to a soothing, slowly changing fractal pattern. “Doctor, what is your opinion of this case?” the computer asked.

  “I-I think the patient has become involved in a sudden delusional fantasy as a means of escape.”

  “What is she trying to escape?”

  The doctor picked up a glass of water. His shaking hand caused ripples. He put the glass down. “I don’t know. I-I mean I don’t have enough information about her life at this point.”

  “Doctor, you seem upset. Has something happened you would like to talk about?”

  “No. I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Perhaps you should go home and rest, Doctor.”

  “Yes, maybe you’re right.” The doctor stood and left the room.

  CONCLUDE DOCTOR’S OBSERVATION

  LOG ENTRY ANOMALY REPORT #27RC393:

  Confirmed spontaneous recognition of Project Repeat by one subject in Sector 5760.

  Recommend removal.

  Consequent corruption of second subject.

  Recommend removal.

  Detach both subjects from template to analyze their design for errors.

  Order replacements.

  How Her Garden Grows

  (inspired by my story Whispers During Still Moments

  from the Dark Thirst anthology)

  Adina hums as she digs in the earth

  moonlight spilling over her hands,

  like her name in African:

  She-Has-Saved,

  someone waits under the dirt.

  She was a First, ancient and beautiful,

  he was Remade by her desire

  to play for a while

  before returning to dust.

  The endless Earth

  is her oldest companion,

  all humans, sweet food.

  But on occasion

  before their final breath,

  she trickled her blood

  into one, planted them deep.

  She smiles as the

  earth gives way to her

  latest crop.

  Ashes to ashes

  dust to dust,

  she does her part

  to recycle.

  Unrequited

  He slammed his head against the brick wall in the dark alley. Thick black fluid leaked from his shredded left ear. He moaned, not from pain, because his kind couldn’t feel physical pain anymore. Slumping to the ground, his hungry body ached, his heart, which hasn’t beat in weeks, ached.

  Love – it wasn’t supposed to happen to the undead, but love he did, in his brain. Memories of the man’s face wouldn’t leave. He had stuffed his pockets with plastic flowers from a nearby store. Why? His body wanted to consume the man’s flesh. His brain wanted to love him.

  How could this happen without a heart?

  Others shuffled in the street at the end of the alley under flickering streetlights reflecting their graying flesh, inarticulate sounds falling randomly from their mouths. Distant screaming echoed in the cavern of the city buildings, the cry of living humans being consumed. Every now and then an undead would look in his direction, realize he was one of them and move on. Not fresh meat.

  He wasn’t
supposed to stop, like his brethren, he should be looking for food, not sitting alone in the alley, hungry. Desire burned in his body, in his mind. For flesh, for the man.

  He knew where the man lived, hidden behind a wall of brick, with other humans. Alone, he would never get over the wall but with others they could evidently get over the wall. With enough of them, they’ve always broken through walls. But he didn’t want to share the man.

  He pounded his fist against his forehead.

  Brain. His brain wasn’t working right. He wanted the heart of the man. His body wanted to eat it, his brain wanted to love it. The thought of his warm flesh made him moan again.

  His hands and feet twitched. His left ear fell off. Burning hunger almost made him eat his own ear. His brain might be dying. Maybe that would end the love. Then he could be normal, like the others and just want to eat the man. The beautiful man.

  He shuffled out of the alley into the daylight. This was a bad thing to do. The sunlight and heat quickened decomposition.

  He knew where there was fresh meat, beautiful fresh man meat. He lurched down the street in the direction of the fortified building.

  There was shuffling behind him as another followed him. He stopped when he was in sight of the building.

  He.

  Wanted.

  The.

  Man.

  To.

  Himself.

  Holding a lamppost he slid to the ground, legs sprawled out in front, back against the pole. The one following him stopped, her head flopped back and forth on her partially severed neck then she wandered off to the left, down another street.

  He slowly looked up and down the street to make sure no others were nearby. Pulling himself up, he staggered to the back of the building. The brick wall was topped with razor wire; the only entrance was a metal door.

  He went to the spot in the wall where he had first seen the man, and pulled out the loose brick. The man was digging in the garden. His long curly brown hair covered half of his face and he thrust the shovel into the ground. Sweat shined on his bare chest, streaks of dirt painted his brown muscular back. The smell of life in the man made his body throb with hunger. Tall stalks of corn moved lazily in the light wind.

  The man looked up and saw the small opening in the wall.