I didn’t see any recent bleeding, thank God. Using my finger, I felt the tear. I reached the left side, where a large flap of mortified skin—dried out and crispy at the edges—lay loose over the shiny dark red muscle. As I lifted it, something fell out, which sounded like a pebble when it hit the floor. I glanced down. It was a glass bead from my car’s windshield. Jim looked at it too and groaned, as if remembering the accident all over again.
Suddenly the flap moved by itself, and my stomach lurched.
At first I thought I imagined it. When I lifted up the skin, a fat kidney worm dripping with gore raised its bald, blind head and glared at me. Hearing its silent scream in my head, I shouted and fell backwards against the gas range. I didn’t know I was still holding the flap of skin, and I pulled Jim with me. His head slammed into the range hood, making a dull, squishy sound.
Enraged, he stood straight and bared his teeth, which were covered in half-eaten animal sweetbreads and fur. I tried scrambling away but got pinned in a corner of the kitchen. As he hovered over me, I tried to calm him down.
“Jim, I’m sorry! It was an accident!”
He grabbed for my legs, pincer-like, and I had to kick him away, which made him even angrier. I caught him in the nose with my boot and heard the crunch of bone and cartilage. It didn’t stop him.
“Jim, you need a doctor. Let me drive you to the hospital.”
He stopped and straightened up like he’d heard something outside. I expected his nose to be gushing blood, but there was nothing. Though it was bent to one side, it didn’t seem to bother him. He craned his neck around, and I heard the faint sound of stretching tendons and cracking bones. As he backed away from me, I got to my feet and scooted towards the door.
“I’m calling an ambulance,” I said.
I turned, and he was in front of a cupboard. He opened the door and reached inside. I fumbled for my cell phone to dial 911. I didn’t notice he had turned to face me. Before I could call, he brought his hands up and showed me what he was holding.
It was the photo of us at Shasta Lake, bloodstained and filthy.
Jim stared at me with those cold, crazy eyes, which seemed to look through me. Feeling my heart exploding, I ran out of there, got into my truck and drove off over dozens of dead animals. After a mile or so, I calmed myself and tried to think. I remembered the missing pets, the mutilated deer. And now the dead runner. I considered the fact that Jim no longer spoke.
I thought about all the townspeople with the jimmies. No one had any idea of how the condition spread so quickly. I was scared because I’d touched Jim—touched his blood. I needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.
I was about to call 911 when a text came through. I thought it was Holly. I’m outside your house. Where’s your truck? Should I knock?
It was Missy. I didn’t answer. I was dirty and scared. I needed a doctor. Didn’t I have enough on my plate? I told myself I was a good person, I didn’t deserve this. But I couldn’t ignore her—I had to do something. And what about Jim? He’d have to wait. I decided to go to Missy’s house to have a talk.
By the time I got there, she was waiting at the door, barefoot, legs shaved, dressed in tight cotton shorts and a soft V-neck T-shirt with no bra. She knew how to get me to come to her. I was like a trained dog. She played me with a bad hand, and I fell for it every time.
“I was at your house, you know,” she said as I came up the walk. “Want to come in?”
I stood at the front door, glaring at her. Something made me want to hit her, but I knew if I resorted to violence she might go to Holly right away. She smelled so good.
“You need to stop this.”
“It’s like I told you, Dave. I’m fighting for us.”
My anger seethed as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me, pressing her warm, luscious body close.
“Ew, what do you smell like?”
She turned her head and took a deep breath. Then she rubbed up against me again. I was still attracted to her and I felt myself getting aroused—I’m sure she felt it too because she rubbed harder. And that made me even angrier. I pulled her arms off me and stepped back.
“I know you still want me, Dave,” she said.
“I’m not leaving Holly.”
“Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“Yes.”
She pulled her T-shirt up, revealing her firm breasts. I tried not to look at them.
“Still not leaving her?” she said.
I reached over and pulled her shirt down. “Stop it, Missy.”
At first she looked hurt. Then her face turned angry, and she raked her nails across my face. I backed away, holding my cheek. It stung. I felt the wet, sticky blood.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She stood there, defiant, as I headed for my truck. “Say hi to Holly for me.”
I didn’t look back.
“Did you find him?” Holly said when I got home.
“No. I checked his house and everything. It looks like he hasn’t been there for a long time.”
“How did you get so dirty? And what happened to your face?”
“It was dark. I fell.”
She came up to give me a kiss, but I motioned for her to stay back.
“Sorry, I don’t smell too good. I need to shower. There were a lot of dead animals.”
“Animals?”
“I think he’s been eating them.”
“Oh no. That poor man.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Guess his luck ran out.”
I sat in the small plastic chair rather than on the examination table with the white butcher paper when the doctor walked in.
“Hey, Isaac.”
“Dave, what’s this all about? I don’t have time to visit. There are a lot of actual sick patients.”
“I know, I saw your waiting room.”
Dr. Isaac Fallow was a medical examiner but still had an internal-medicine practice in town. He was a genial man, somewhere in his sixties. He’d been our family physician, and I’d known him since I was little. It was Holly’s day off, and to avoid suspicion I had made a lunchtime appointment.
Isaac motioned for me to take a seat on the examination table, stuck a thermometer in my mouth, checked my blood pressure and took my pulse.
“I’m worried about this thing spreading through the town,” I said.
“So am I.” He checked my eyes, ears and throat. “Be still.” He listened to my heart, then checked my breathing. “You seem fine. Want a sucker?”
“The other day one of those sick people came into the store. I think I might have been exposed to something.”
“Well, we don’t know how this thing spreads, but what I’ve noticed is that in each case the person was either bitten or infected with the blood of another sick person. Did the customer bite you?”
“No. I think I might have touched something that had their saliva on it, though.”
“I see.” He put his things away. “Well, did you wash your hands right away?”
“I used hand sanitizer.”
“Soap and hot water is still the best. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Great. Do you know what this thing is?”
“No, but it seems to act like a virus. Might be related to the flu. We just don’t know yet.”
“I’ve noticed it changes people’s mood.”
“Yes, I’ve seen that too. There’s a rage factor in some cases.” He was halfway out the door.
“Any advice?”
“Don’t piss anyone off. See you, Dave.”
HERE WAS THE MISSY PROBLEM. Did I tell Holly everything and hope she could forgive me? Or did I try to stop Missy before Holly found out?
Like I said, I’m a wuss and I avoid confrontation. I didn’t want to tell Holly the truth. Sure, I was scared she’d get mad—but I was more afraid of her leaving me. That might sound stupid coming from a guy who spent six years of his young life getting drunk. I’d already proven
I didn’t give a rat’s fart about things like marriage and family and living a good life. Shit, who knows—maybe I’d changed.
All I wanted was to protect what I had. But I knew confronting Missy again would piss her off and make her blow the whole thing up. So I had no choice but to confess. Next to quitting drinking, it was the hardest thing I ever did. It meant telling the actual truth. I went all in.
It was getting dark outside. A hot wind blew, rattling the windows. In the distance, sirens wailed. Holly sat across from me at the kitchen table. It was hard to read her expression, but it looked like shock.
“Say something,” I said.
“Why?”
I saw a hurt that would never heal—not in a lifetime of good deeds. If I became a missionary and spent the rest of my miserable, groveling existence ministering to lepers, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would take away the pain I saw in her eyes.
“I don’t know what made me get mixed up with her. No idea.”
“Where …” She poured herself more tea. Stood by the stove and looked at her quivering hands. “Where did you meet her?” Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.
“The gym. It started out as talking. Just talking. There was never any discussion of … They were conversations to pass the time.”
“Yeah, I can see how that could lead to sex.”
“She asked me to follow her home because she was scared of a break-in.”
“So you were being noble. Did she ask you inside? Did you look under her bed? Did you role-play?”
“I left. But after that one time I don’t know what happened. It’s all mixed up in my head. I let myself get sucked in.”
“Those nights you were gone.” She was crying and holding herself. “You said you were with Jim. And I thought you’d started drinking again. What a relief.”
“I broke it off. That night I went to find Jim I went to her house afterwards and told her. I never wanted you to know. She thinks we were meant to be together. She said she wouldn’t stop till we were.”
“And what did you say, Dave?”
“I told her to forget it. Look, I never wanted you to know. She’s crazy. I just want to protect us.”
“Oh. I guess you’re forgiven then.”
We sat for a long time. A faraway, bone-chilling shriek tore the silence. I told myself it was a mountain lion. I had no idea what was going through Holly’s mind.
“What’re you going to do?” she said.
“Tell her that you already know. That I don’t care what she does. I’m hoping she’ll come to her senses and leave us alone.”
“But you said she’s crazy.”
“Crazy, confused …”
“Will she try to hurt us?”
“No. Maybe—I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Do what you need to. I can’t be around you right now.” She put her cup in the sink and walked out.
Despite the pain in my gut, I felt the worst was over. Things would be rocky for a while, but I could see Holly forgiving me. I’d gone to her with the truth. I wanted her—not Missy.
Sometimes we lie to ourselves to get through the next five minutes.
The next day was Saturday. I had slept on the couch in the TV room. Holly went out early—I don’t know where. After I showered and dressed, I called Missy and told her I wanted to meet. I heard her excitement and wished I could avoid seeing her.
When I arrived, she was waiting on the porch, ready for action. I’d already been through hell with Holly. Now it was Missy’s turn. There’s nothing worse than delivering bad news to women. I hoped I wouldn’t get good at it.
“Want to come inside?” she said.
“Let’s take a walk.”
Her house stood at the edge of the forest. Though it was after nine, the air was already hot and sticky. We walked behind her house and found a trail that led into the woods.
“I told Holly everything.” I looked straight ahead as we walked. A deer cut across the path in front of us. Squirrels scampered around in the pine needles.
“Oh.”
“So now you know I was serious when I said this is over.”
She took my hand and we stopped. “But it’s not over.”
“Missy, Holly knows everything. There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“I never wanted to do anything to you, Dave. I want us to be together.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you think this is a game? That you can just … be with me for a little while, then go back to your life?” Her hand was clutching mine hard—it hurt.
“I don’t love you.”
The words stopped her cold. She released my hand and backed away like I’d slapped her. Behind her, Jim staggered towards us from the shadows.
He looked crazy, with what was left of his clothes draped over his bony, putrefying frame. Most of his hair had fallen out and his eyes were scaled over. All of the flesh around his neck had slid away, exposing dry, dark red muscle and a grey esophagus. He moved towards Missy, his head twitching.
“Missy!”
“What? You want to apologize?”
“Missy, run!”
She turned too late. Shrieking, Jim grabbed her, his vise-like jaws snapping at her face. She screamed and writhed, trying to get away from his teeth. I ran to her and took her arm. Elbowing my friend in the face, I pulled her away. We ran.
Why is it when you’re scared you lose all sense of direction? Instead of running towards Missy’s house, we headed deeper into the forest. In my mind I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t stop.
Then I was alone. I looked back—Missy had fallen. Jim came towards her fast, his movements like those of an enraged animal.
“Missy, get up!”
She looked back as Jim grabbed her foot. Kicking at him with the other foot, she scrambled away.
I didn’t wait for her.
Up ahead, I found a small ranger station built out of flagstone and heavy wood beams. Standing under a cool canopy of pine trees, it had a slanted roof and a single door I prayed was open.
“Help! Somebody help!”
No one came out. I ran to the door. Glancing sideways, I saw a large cord of wood and an axe. I pounded on the door.
“Please! Someone! Help us!”
Missy was still far away, with Jim right behind her. She screamed the whole way. “Dave!”
I tried the door handle. Unlocked. I fell inside, and without hesitation I locked the door.
Even now I can’t describe the fear that contaminated my blood like black ink. My heart raced, and I tasted copper. I couldn’t think, couldn’t reason. All I could do was focus on survival.
“Dave!”
Missy was getting closer, but I knew Jim was out there too, no longer my friend but a demon. If I opened the door to let her in, I might die. I knew what Jim had done to those animals. And I guessed he was the one who’d torn Sarah Champion to pieces in the forest.
“Dave! Please!”
Missy beat her fists on the door. My lungs were on fire from running and my eyes were blinded by tears of shame. My hands shook, and no matter how much I wanted to save Missy, I couldn’t open the door.
Outside, Missy sobbed, scraping the door with her fingernails and calling my name. I pressed my head against the rough wood and closed my eyes. “Sorry.”
Then I heard the most horrific sounds of fighting and tearing and screaming. After what seemed like forever, I heard a dull crack, then a groan.
Then silence.
I didn’t move for a long time. Eventually, I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and opened the door.
Jim’s body lay sprawled at an angle on the ground, his head split in two. His arms and legs twitched for a second, then he was still. A dark stream of infectious black brain blood leaked into the earth. The greasy axe lay next to him. Bloody footprints led away into the forest.
Missy was gone.
I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me. This
was perfect. Somehow Missy had gotten the better of the situation and killed my friend, who I knew was already dead. She’d stop at nothing to get me—and Holly too.
I ran back to Missy’s house. Her front door was unlocked, and I went inside. “Missy?”
I checked the entire house. She’d disappeared.
My heart still pumping hard, I walked towards my truck, and before getting in I vomited on the ground.
Once I was on the road, I checked my cell phone. There was one voice mail. It was Holly wondering where I was. I called her back, trying to make my voice sound calm.
“Where’ve you been?”
“I went to see Missy.”
A long silence. “Will you be home soon?”
“On my way.”
After I hung up, a text message appeared. I almost crashed as I read it. You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.
This was it—I was screwed. Missy would call the police and report me. Is there a law against not helping someone in danger? I could see the cops thinking I’d planned the whole thing to get rid of her. Holly and I had no money for an attorney, so I’d end up with some lame-ass public defender with bad breath and dandruff. I’d be convicted for sure, with Holly left on her own while I rotted in prison.
“They found Jim,” Holly said as I walked in the front door.
“What? Who?”
“It’s pretty bad. Come into the kitchen. You smell like Death.”
I took a chair at the table and rubbed my eyes, trying to suppress a giggle. I felt like I was in a long, dark drainage pipe and Holly was at the other end, leaning in and trying to get my attention. When I looked up, I saw she’d turned off the kettle and poured out two cups of tea. I had trouble holding my cup without spilling anything.
“Detective Van Gundy called,” she said. “They found Jim’s body at a ranger station. A neighbor reported hearing screams and called 911.”
I sipped at my tea and burned my tongue.
“Someone killed him. And you know Van Gundy—he won’t say any more. Since Jim had no family, they want you to go down and identify the body.”
“What? Now?”
She looked away, pretending she heard something. “So what happened over there?”
The Dead Series (Book 1): Tell Me When I'm Dead Page 4
