by Jeff Beeman
“I am so sorry Mrs.” I start but once I look up at her face I can’t talk anymore. Her face is pale; that looks funny. Her hazel eyes now look like a doll’s, shiny yet somehow dull. The white part also has a few tiny dark lines. Her nose looked like it had dry snot stuck to it. Her hands tremble, clench the air a couple of times, then she begins to moan just like the person in the distance. I am frozen in place as our neighbor slowly walks at me with her arms stretched out to take hold of me in her clasping hands. I could do nothing until she stepped on Bouncy Bouncy, but then the scream I was unable to make before came out in full force. Daddy flew up the stairs and stopped but for a second when he saw what was happening. He then ran up to Mrs. Elkwood and shoved her away from me and to the ground. Then he grabbed me by my shoulder and got me to my feet all the time pointing the magnum at Mrs. Elkwood.
“Mrs. Elkwood snap out of it!” he commanded but she only looked at us with something else’s eyes all the while moaning as she worked on getting back up.
“Houston! Stop, you’re hurting me!” screamed Tracy in pain and fear.
Daddy growled and then took a step forward and high kicked Mrs. Elkwood right under her chin which made her head snap back and down she went again. Looking back at me, the Magnum said with Daddy’s voice, “Do not leave my side and do exactly what I say!” I nod yes but I am trembling almost to the point of vibrating. He calls me over to him and I hustle over there after picking up Bouncy Bouncy. Suddenly Mrs. Elkwood who should be really hurt from Daddy’s kick reaches out to grab my leg. I jump to the side just in time to be missed. Daddy appears next to Mrs. Elkwood’s outreached arm and with all his weight, stomps down so hard I hear what sounds like the breaking of wooden limbs. Mrs. Elkwood never stops moaning even when her bones poke out of her ruined arm and black ooze bubbles from the wound and darkens the skin around the wound.
Daddy picks me up and we head down the stairs towards Tracy and Houston’s apartment. As we make it to their floor, a door unlocks and out comes another neighbor followed by a whiff of really bad smelling stuff, Mr. Kendrick and his two daughters, Sarah and Charlie. They are also pale, with their eyes shiny yet somehow dull. Just as the father opened the door, all three joined the moaning. Daddy does not even hesitate, he moves forward, raises his foot and kicks out as he leans forward, planting his right foot between the man’s chest and stomach. The man stumbles backwards into his two daughters and they all fall down. Daddy immediately shuts the door and slams his free hand down onto the door knob, which breaks loose. I feel Daddy flinch in pain when he does this.
We move to Tracy and Houston’s apartment door. Daddy beats on it calling to Tracy to open it. Nothing happens. Daddy calls again but no response from them but we hear the wrecked door jingling as the grey neighbors try to open it. Moaning is starting to get louder and there are more and more doing it.
Daddy yells for Tracy to get away from the door, then he counts to three and kicks it with all his strength. There is a sound of wood cracking, but the door holds. After three more attempts, the door finally breaks open.
We are blinded by the horrible smell. It makes me think of rotting meat, snot, mixed with something even worse smelling. Daddy moves in with the magnum in front of us. We can see Tracy propped up on their couch. She is trying to say something but green stuff is coming out of her mouth. Her face looks like part of it is gone. At her feet, one of which is turned in a weird direction, lies a bloody butcher knife in a pool of blood. Blood and green fluid are coming out of the large cut in her tummy. Houston is eating something what looks like a kidney bean but bloody. He slowly turns to looks at us with small dark eyes with eyes shiny yet somehow dull and one eye has a tiny black line that goes from the left corner where tears come from all the way to the colored part, all the time chewing.
The Magnum using Daddy’s voice simply says, “Turn your eyes, cover your ears real hard”.
I do as I am told just before the Magnum uses its real voice. Painful ringing bells replace the moaning thankfully. With a click, a second word is spoken in the Magnum’s real voice. With that, Daddy turned and walked out of what was once Tracy, Mr. Ron and Houston’s home.
As we passed the apartment with the neighbor and two girls, the Magnum said to again look away and cover my ears tightly. Without looking, Daddy raised the Magnum as we walked by the door, there was a click sound mixed with the fading ringing sound until the Magnum spoke for a third time. We heading for the stairs. Mrs. Elkwood is coming down slowly as if she needs to be sure of her footing. She is still gripping the empty air with her hands. Daddy doesn’t even slow down. As we begin to go down the stairs, the Magnum speaks an angry word into Mrs. Elkwood’s chest. I hear her falling down to the stairs and land on the floor that Tracy and Houston once lived on. My last sight of Mrs. Elkwood before we make the next landing and turn to go on is her trying to start crawling to chase us, as the moaning grows louder from the apartments as they seem to be harmonizing with the first moaner off in the distance.
We never went back to the apartment because the Bad had arrived in the neighborhood.
Chapter Twelve
Dealing with the Living
B.B.’s scratching wakes me up to darkness again. I feel as if I am in one of my sleeping nests, but I don’t remember making one or for that matter where I am. Suddenly I am drowning in B.B’s spit as he gives me a lot of doggie kisses. I try to push him back but my right arm barely moves. I realize then that it is tied to my body. “When did this happen?” I ask myself out loud. I scratch B.B.’s head and neck with my left hand, till I hit that certain spot that makes him stop everything so he can start scratching behind his ear near that area. With his help, I am able to stand. Slowly feeling around I come to realize I, Bouncy Bouncy, and B.B. are in a closet. After finding the closet door, I pick up Bouncy Bouncy, prepare for anything, and then let us out into someone’s bedroom. B.B. of course starts sniffing around and a moment later leaves his “mark” on a wall.
The room is brightened like it is morning outside. I go to the nearest window shade while avoiding B.B.’s spreading business on the carpet. Looking out what seems to be a second story window, I see it is a cloudless early morning. Since the shade is pulled back, more light is allowed in which reveals the room in more detail. There are three baseball posters on the wall to my right, while in front of me is a bed that is missing its sheets and covers. I seemed to have used them to build my nest at some point. Above the bed’s headboard is a shelf with a couple of pictures and what looks like team trophies. Also in a corner next to the bed is a metal baseball bat. To the left of me is the closet door we came through. It has a poster of a woman in tight gym clothes holding dumbbells. She has a mean look in her eyes as she looks directly at anyone facing the poster. The poster has the caption, “No pain, No gain!” This is definitely a boy’s room because I say out loud without thinking, “Ugh...Boys”, as I shake my head in sympathy for their limited smarts.
Still looking around, I see there is a desk in the right hand corner next to me. It has some books scattered on it and a few magazines on the floor around it. I move Bouncy Bouncy to my right hand so I can reach down and pick one of the magazines up. It is a magazine from Bards and Sages Quarterly. It’s their October issue. The cover has a pumpkin scarecrow leaning towards the viewer. I lay it on the desk so I can look at it with one hand. Reading the table of contents I see the different story names and their brief descriptions. I come across one story that is about how a stuffed bunny and a dancing plastic flower protect the world. It is titled Totems. I will have to remember to read it later once I have more time and it’s still light outside.
B.B. is still sniffing around but I think it is just to be nosey. For a moment I close my eyes and think back to when we lived in our home that had my yard fort and swing set in the backyard. I used to be able to remember stuff about it like how the walls felt or how high I used to be able to swing but now it is hard to remember much from back then. The best I can do right now is see sort of
a faded picture of my backyard fort. I think I should be sad but right now I just feel tired even though I just woke up.
Opening my eyes again, I see this house’s backyard. It is mostly an expanded parking area in front of a large detached garage that has two garage doors. The vehicle that has the running water and electric lights is sort of parked in that area but looks like it is closer to the house. Also in view is a moveable basketball hoop laying on its side with no net from what I can see. Next to the far back fence and next to the garage is the large container on two wheels. It’s set up to be moved away from the fence. The last part of the back area is a grassy space in the far right corner of the yard under a really tall and big tree that is just limbs now due to the season. The grassy area is surrounded by what looks like a raised wall that acts as a flower bed. Now there is only dead weeds and maybe some windblown trash. In the middle of what would be a green patch during spring is a covered swinging bench. The swing bench looks to fit the space and still allow room for someone to walk around it to look at all the flowers if one wanted too. I bet the people who used to live here really liked their flowers and swinging bench. Now the bench cover has almost blown off and even from here the chain on the left side doesn’t look right.
B.B.’s scratching at another door brings me back to the room, though his goal is more likely to expand his claim on the house. I know he is a big dog, but his bladder seems bigger than I am tall, the way he can do his private business everywhere in his effort to show his claim on different things and places. It would be a good time to find fast ways off not only this floor but out of the house. But before I do that, I take a moment to look at my right arm situation. First of all, my right upper arm has a large strip of cloth that goes around my chest, left under arm, and back. It is wrapped like this three times and tied together right in front of my chest. My right wrist and elbow are tied to a second strip of cloth that goes around my tummy. If I wanted to move my arm I could but from what little I have moved it already this morning, I really don’t want to do that.
Slowly I open the door that leads out into a shadowy hallway. There is a closed door to my left and another in front of me, while the hallway continues on the right to an open area with a window. There seems to be a semi-shadowy doorway halfway between here and there. B.B. is sniffing pretty intently at the door in front of me. Though he is not growling low in his throat, his body posture makes me think he is concerned by what he smells. I think it is best not to go into that or the other door right now. I gently convince him to come with me and Bouncy Bouncy. For a moment he hesitates, then with a big snort of what reminds me of disgust and a shake of his head, he trots off with me. The shadowy doorway turns out to be a bathroom with a shower tub. From what little light comes from the small window in the room, it looks fairly generic and very picked clean.
Continuing towards the open area I can hear voices, though I can’t quite make out what they are saying. It sounds like two men. The open area at the end of this hallway looks to have been an open game area with stairs leading down. Instead of a full wall, there is only a half wall that allows someone to look down into what may be the living area. Positioned next to this half wall is a very comfortable couch that has a glass night stand with a funny looking lamp on it. Dusty multi-level shelves go along two walls on the opposite side of the room. Thanks to the large half circular window I can make out different board games on them. In one corner is a T.V. stand with a large flat screen T.V. that would make the viewer think all the shows were in a dust storm, with all the dust on the screen. There is also a DVD player, and two different game machines with games in the stand’s open shelves. I look at some of the game titles and see that they are more for a boy but girls in The Bad can’t be choosers. Oh for electricity, I sadly think to myself. B.B. has just been quietly following me though he keeps himself placed between me and the hallway that we had just come down. All of a sudden men burst out laughing which causes me to stiffen so fast and hard, I hop forward and gasp out loud a small, “Eek”, which in turns makes B.B. trot around me playfully. Pain makes me see bright lights for a moment as my arm and shoulder remind me they are hurt. It has been so long since I have heard someone else laugh, I guess it just surprised me. Time to continue my exploration downstairs and to also see what the living are up to.
We start down the stairs to find I was right, it is a living room. At the base of the stairs are three doors, one in front of me, one to my left, and one sort of behind and to my left. Next to the door in front of me is a grandfather clock. The hands are pointing at what I think is six thirteen with the moon rising. I have always thought grandfather clocks look cool. Daddy use to tell me how his grandmother had a real coo coo clock that had a stag’s head and hunting scenes of it, he had to explain to me that means a male deer, which was positioned at the top over where the little coo coo bird came out. He had a toy rifle back then that shot out cork balls. He always planned to shoot the coo coo clock bird but would get bored and wander off to play outside with his grandmother’s dog or sit in the kitchen and color in his coloring book. Then to his surprise the coo coo would sing out, but before he could get to it, it had finished singing. His great coo coo bird hunting days ended when his grandmother caught him trying to set the clock to noon. Momma’ family had a grandfather clock. She said it would not keep time right till they added a little toy mouse to one of the weights. On Sunday nights when her father would put the key in to wind the grandfather clock, she would feed the little mouse invisible cheese, vegetables and milk.
The rest of the living room has a couch, some chairs, a fire place, a big entertainment center and a few framed paintings on the walls. Disappointingly there are no family photos on the walls or on the fireplace mantle. Instead of lights on the ceilings, there are standing lamps everywhere. There is a really big bay window with the shades pulled slightly open. Various dead plants with dust sit on the bay window’s shelf. I stand watching dust specks slowly dance in the air. Normally being on the first floor with an open window would be something to be cautious about, especially moving in front of the open window on a cloudy day, but somehow such worries on such a bright and pretty day like today make such worry about attracting the attention of a moaner feel more like remembering a distant bad dream. I go over and as best as I can pull the window curtains open to make this dust-caked room more lively. I can hear voices coming from beyond the doorway now behind me and to my left, where there is also steady light.
It is too steady to be from candles, and I don’t hear the familiar hiss from a gas lantern. Drawn like a hypnotized moth, I slowly walk towards the room the light is coming from. I pass through a short hallway with a door on one side and a hallway the other. As I am about to enter into what looks like a kitchen, I see Mr. Oliver sitting at a round table with Mr. Kevins and Mr. Anderson. Mrs. Kevins-Stahls is at the kitchen island with her hair in a short ponytail while Baby Michael is sitting in a car seat and looking fussy. Mr. Oliver has a taped eye patch over his right eye and is saying, “If ahh hadn’t got things under control she wuldda have pulled her knife and become a twister full of mad cats even without that big dog’s help. Just yew fellars looks at what she did to mah eye!” All three men began laughing again.
Mr. Anderson teased Mr. Oliver by saying, “And to think you and Bates almost got your tail feathers plucked by a little girl and a big dog”.
“You’re lucky she only used a dirt clod and not an actual rock or worse” advised Mr. Kevins. “She could have done a lot more damage than we could hope to fix out in the field.”
“Don’t ahh know eet” responded Mr. Oliver.
No one noticed me or B.B. until I said, “I am sorry about hurting your eye, Mr. Oliver”.
Everyone stopped and looked over at us except for baby Michael who just kept up his fussy dance in the car seat. “Speak of the pint sized terror of men” Mr. Anderson said to no one in particular.
“Eet wurn’t nothin to worry your head about” gently responded Mr. Oliver.
I looked at him for a moment, then asked, “Why do you sound like a cartoon cowboy?”
This got a smile from Mr. Kevins and his daughter, while Mr. Anderson just broke down laughing so hard he started coughing. Mr. Oliver simply blushed.
Once he could breathe properly again, Mr. Anderson said, “You can send the East Texas kid to university but you just can’t get the accent out of the highly educated kid!” After saying that he started laughing again. Mr. Kevins added, “Eric’s accent comes out more when he is tired, excited, or otherwise shall we say distracted.”
“Ohh” I simple said.
“How is your arm sweet heart?” asked Mrs. Kevins-Stahls.
“Good enough to hold Bouncy Bouncy but that is about it” I respond before I again become distracted by the lights.
They have set up three electric lamps in this room. Electric lights! I stare at them as if they represent my birthday, first day of summer vacation and Christmas all brightly rolled into one. I stare so long that when I realize Mrs. Kevins-Stahls has asked me another question, I can’t see her face because there is a big green spot in front of me. I of course respond as any distracted child would by saying, “Huh?”
“I asked if you would like some breakfast?” gently responded Mrs. Kevins-Stahls. Remembering what Momma taught me about manners, I quickly say, “Yes, please and thank you!”
I can see Mr. Kevins out of the corner of my eye and around the shrinking green spot. He seems pleased by my proper response. He stands up and pulls a stool over to me so I can eat at the kitchen island. He also helps me get up on it but is very gentle in doing so. To my surprise I see they have something like a tiny oven top with two burners. There is water boiling in a small pan which she takes from the burner, pours into a bowl. Then she reaches into a traveling bag and pulls out a packet which she pours the contents into the bowl. She then takes another item out of the bag. It looks like a mixing bottle. She pours water into it, puts some different powder in and shakes it. Finally she puts the contents of the mixing bottle into a drinking cup, stirs the contents in the bowl with a spoon and places the bowl and cup in front of me. The bowl has what looks like oatmeal. Momma and I loved eating this on cold days together. Inside the cup looks like milk but I know it is powdered milk like what I had to drink just before The Bad had fully taken over. I take a spoon and scoop out some oatmeal. It smells plain, hot and wonderful. I carefully blow on the first hot meal I have had since my last day with Daddy. I take a bite. Even without sugar and real milk in it, this oatmeal is so good that it is beyond words. I take a sip of the powdered milk and it has gotten a lot better than I remember. B.B. puts his big paws on the island, raises himself up like Gojira rising out of Tokyo bay and sniffs my breakfast but I don’t plan to share this time. Mr. Oliver says, “I thought ole B.B. might get hungry when he saw you eat, so I saved my meat portion of last night’s meal for him.” He goes over to one of the cabinets above the house’s stove and brings out a bowl, which he puts on the floor. B.B. doesn’t even wait to have it offered. I must embarrassingly admit that it might have seemed like a race to see which of us would finish first. When I looked around after finishing my breakfast by scraping every bit of oatmeal in the bowl, all eyes are on me. Mr. Anderson broke the silence by saying, “I like it when a female shows she knows how to eat and enjoy her meal.” It was then my turn to blush. Mr. Kevins says with a smiling fatherly face and in his deep N.P.R. voice to his daughter, “Why don’t you fix this growing girl another bowl” to which she does.
