He turned back to the plates, dipped the chicken cutlet into the egg, and then the bread crumbs, first one side, then the other.
He grabbed the breaded cutlet with his fingers and lowered it gingerly into the pan, where it began to sizzle. He looked up at the clock. Twelve after eleven. Plenty of time.
He grabbed the three plates and put them in the sink and washed his hands. He reached into the silverware drawer and pulled out a fork to turn the cutlet. He felt better already. It wasn’t going to be his best work, but it was better than salad with grilled chicken.
Then he heard a knock at the door.
A chill went down his spine. Shit. Did Marie come back already? Did she forget something?
Then another knock. Or was it more of a thud?
Mario turned the cutlet in the pan and laid the fork on the stove. He supposed he could throw it in the garbage, but then Marie would see the frying pan and the dishes in the sink before he had a chance to wash them.
He was resigned to the fact that he had to face the music. Marie would yell at him, and then she’d probably eat the cutlet herself. He’d yell at her for re-hiding the peanut butter and removing his secret stash of chips, and she’d yell how she could never trust him again.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Mario went to answer the door. He opened the front door and nearly had a coronary when he saw Mama Sophia standing there looking at him with dark eyes and dried, crusted blood down her chin and on her nightgown.
“Ma!”
He flung the storm door open so quickly, he knocked her down. “Oh, Ma! I’m so sorry!” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Geez, Ma, are you all right?”
Before she could respond, he pulled her inside the house. He let go of her and ran into the kitchen. “I gotta call Marie! She went out looking for you!”
Mama Sophia lurched forward toward the kitchen, shuffling toward her son. He grabbed the land line and started to dial when he turned and saw her walking into the kitchen.
He hung up the phone. “My God! What’s wrong with me!” He laid the phone down on the counter. “You must be hungry! And thirsty!”
He ran over to her, grabbed her, and lowered her into a chair at the kitchen table. She grunted as her butt hit the seat.
“Sit here. I’ll get you something to drink.”
She reached out for him, but he ran to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. He held it under the ice dispenser built into the refrigerator door, filling it to the top with ice, and then ran to the kitchen sink. “I’m cooking some chicken. It’s all yours. You must be starved.”
Mama Sophia snapped her jaws while in her seat, and then struggled to stand.
He saw her try to get up. “Sit, Ma. Rest.” He ran the faucet until the water was cool, and then he filled the glass to the top. The ice clinked as he shuttled the glass to his mother. She swiped at him and growled.
“Poor Ma, you can’t even talk. Here.” He held up the glass to her lips as she leaned forward, and he tilted the glass, spilling water down her chin and into her lap.
“Oh, sorry, Ma.” He dashed back to the counter and snatched a couple of paper towels off the roll. He saw her trying to stand, so he placed his hand on her shoulder to keep her seated. “Here, let me clean you up.” He dabbed her chin and neck with the paper towels, which began to absorb the blood and bile. “Ew. Gross. Look at you. You’re a mess.”
The chicken cutlet, forgotten, sizzled behind him, burning on one side when Mama Sophia leaned forward and bit his hand. Hard.
Mario yanked his hand away. “Jesus, Ma! What did you do that for?”
She snarled at him, eyes wild with hunger.
“Now, listen. I know you’re upset. I know you must be angry with me, but you need to realize that I’ve been worried sick.”
Mama Sophia lunged at her son, swiping with jagged fingernails, catching Mario on his forearm. He cradled the scratch, stepping backward away from her. “Ma! What’s wrong with you?”
Mama Sophia turned her head up and made regurgitating motions, gurgling in her throat.
“You’re sick. That’s right. What am I doing? I need to get you to a doctor.”
Mario turned and grabbed the cordless phone off the countertop and dialed 9-1-1. The phone rang twice and an operator picked up. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
Suddenly, Mama Sophia let out a loud banshee wail that startled Mario. He dropped the phone on the tiled kitchen floor. “Jesus, Ma. What’s wrong?”
She got up and staggered over to where he stood and reached out her arms. Mario, confused, opened his arms to receive her embrace, only when she grabbed him, she sunk her teeth into his neck.
“Ahhhh!” He pushed her away, and she fell backward onto the kitchen table. He reached up and put his right hand on the wound on his neck. When he pulled it away, it was covered in blood.
“Fucking bitch!”
She was on her feet again, laughing, a horrible guttural sound, flashing teeth coated in a dark red syrup.
“Holy shit,” Mario gasped, and he picked up the phone off the ground. “Sir, are you there? What’s your emergency?”
“It’s my mother…she’s a fucking vampire!”
Mama Sophia hurtled toward him again, and he fended her off as best he could while still holding onto the phone.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“She’s trying to bite me! She’s attacking me!” He slapped her grimy hands away as she clawed at him. “I need an ambulance for my Ma!”
“Sir, can you get to a safe place?”
“Safe place? Where? I’m in my kitchen.”
Mama Sophia tripped over her own feet and fell to the floor, but she grabbed Mario’s leg on the way down, tugging on his shorts, pulling them down.
“Now she’s trying to pull my pants off!”
“What’s your address, sir?”
“Sixty-nine Neptune Ave! Sixty-nine Neptune!”
Mama Sophia got a grip on his naked calf and sank her teeth in.
“Ahhhhh!” Mario threw the phone down and stepped backward into the stove, shaking his leg, but Mama Sophia held on.
He turned and grabbed the frying pan off the stove and brought it down on her head, spilling hot olive oil everywhere, burning his legs.
“Ahhhh! Goddammit!”
Mama Sophia clung to his meaty calf like a rabid pit bull.
He took another swipe, missing her head and throwing himself off balance. Mario tripped over his Ma and fell face down on the floor, the frying pan cracking a kitchen tile from the impact.
Mama Sophia crawled on top of his back and sunk her teeth into his shoulder as he cried out in pain. Mario tried to reach back and swat her off, but he couldn’t reach.
Crying in pain and terror, he dragged himself along the kitchen floor, hoping she’d fall off, but she didn’t. She pulled a mouthful of flesh off his shoulder and started chomping on it loudly.
Mario rolled over on his back, crushing Mama Sophia under his weight, and he reached for the frying pan. She sunk her teeth into a fleshy part of his back, and he rolled off of her, but she clung to him like a hungry tick.
Mario and Mama Sophia both looked up as they heard the storm door open.
“Marie, help me!”
Marie dropped her purse on the floor when she saw Mama Sophia on top of her bleeding husband. Mama Sophia smiled impishly at her as she chewed on her son’s flesh and fat.
“You evil fucking bitch!”
Mama Sophia let out another shriek and made those regurgitating sounds as Mario lay helpless underneath her, bleeding out on the kitchen floor.
Marie reached into the entryway closet and pulled out a baseball bat kept there for intruders. She rushed Mama, bat raised high in the air. She brought it down, but Mama Sophia rolled off her son just in time. Marie ended up bringing the bat down on Mario, who wailed in pain.
“I’m sorry, honey!”
Mama Sophia lunged at Marie, her grubby hands grabbing at her legs. Marie recoiled, falling back into
the stove. The back of her tee-shirt caught fire, and she started spinning around, swatting at the flame on her back.
Marie’s twirling caused Mama Sophia to fall to the floor, which bought Marie enough time to drop the bat and pull her shirt off. She threw it down on the tile and picked up her bat.
Mama Sophia was back on her feet and charging, but this time Marie swung and connected with the old woman’s skull.
Mama Sophia’s head hit the side of the stove, shattering the glass on the oven door. Mama Sophia tried to pull her head out, but her neck was hung up on jagged glass.
Marie brought the baseball bat down on her back again and again. “Die, fucking bitch! Die!”
The last blow tore Mama Sophia’s neck free as black, syrupy blood sprayed all over the oven and kitchen floor, but it didn’t slow her down.
Mama Sophia reached out for Marie, who hit her on the top of the head. Marie heard a crunch, but the old witch kept coming, snarling at her like an animal.
Marie grabbed the handle of one of the kitchen drawers and pulled it off the track and out, smacking Mama Sophia on the side of her face and spilling silverware and utensils all over the floor. Marie picked up a pair of salad tongs and beat Mama Sophia about her face with them, but it didn’t do much damage. She threw them to the floor and picked up a large metal ladle and swung at the old fiend, but also to no avail.
Marie opened one of the lower cabinet doors just as Mama Sophia lunged at her, blocking the attack. She reached inside, groping frantically at whatever was there.
She pulled out a cheese grater as Mama Sophia pushed the cabinet door shut again. This time Marie pounced on her, pressing down on her putrid face and grating back and forth, sheering off her mother-in-law’s lips as the old crone bit the metal.
Jagged nails and pointy fingertips probed at her rolls of belly fat as Marie pressed down, but she needed something better. She stood and reached for the largest knife in her set sitting in its butcher block holder on the counter.
Mama Sophia was back on her hands and knees. Marie backed away as Mama Sophia crawled after her, snapping her jaws like a piranha.
Marie gripped the black handle of her eight inch chef’s knife, dropped her knees to the hard tile, and plunged the large knife into the top of Mama Sophia’s head.
Mama Sophia went still and dropped, smashing her teeth on the hard tile. Marie hunched over, exhausted, and sighed deeply.
It was over.
The body began to twitch in a death rattle. Marie grabbed the black handle and twisted the knife. There was a wet sound, and Mama Sophia moved no more.
Marie sat with her back to the kitchen counter and looked at the prone body of her nemesis of so many years, and she started to chuckle. The feeling spread through her body quickly. The chuckle turned into a laugh, and the laugh became hysteria as she howled at the long-awaited demise of Mama Sophia.
Then she looked at her husband lying still on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood, and the laughter died down to half-hearted chuckles as it dawned on her that Mario was dead.
Suddenly, his head whipped around, eyes wild, and he began to crawl over to her, shrieking like a bird of prey. Fortunately, his body was big and clumsy, which made his attack slow. Marie reached out, pulled the knife out of Mama Sophia’s head, and sat back against the cabinet, waiting for her husband.
He crawled over Mama Sophia’s body, pulling it underneath him. He crawled over Marie’s legs, pushing himself up with his hands so he was face-to-face with her.
His breath was putrid, and he bared his teeth at her like an animal.
Marie put her left hand on the side of his head, caressing his hair. Then she grabbed a handful.
Her other hand came up with the knife, plunging it sideways into his temple, pushing his head into the knife with her left hand. She twisted the blade, and his lights went out.
The storm door opened and Marie heard someone yell, “Jesus Christ!”
Officers Pike and Lawson entered the blood-spattered kitchen with guns drawn, shouting for Marie to drop the knife. Marie let go of the handle as Officer Lawson pulled Mario’s body off of her.
“What happened?” asked Officer Pike, shocked by the scene in the kitchen. “What did you do?”
Marie didn’t answer. She just looked up at the two officers, exhausted and resigned to how the scene must’ve looked to them.
Lawson grabbed her by the wrist, turned her on her stomach, and began to cuff her behind her back.
“Marie Russo, you’re under arrest for the murders of Sophia and Mario Russo.”
* * *
Lenny Krueger dashed into the front office of the Ocean’s Gate to say goodbye to his mother. The Circus Faire parade was going to start in a half hour, and he didn’t want to be late.
Alice grabbed a tin box from under the counter and snatched a twenty dollar bill from it. She handed it to Lenny, who folded it neatly and inserted it into his pocket.
“Now don’t lose that,” instructed Alice. “That’s for food, not games. There’ll be plenty of free entertainment at the parade.”
“Yes, Mom. I know.”
“You go have a good time. Make sure you’re back for dinner. I’m making your favorite, mac-and-cheese.”
Lenny smiled. “Thanks, Mom.” He dashed out of the office and down the block on his way to the boardwalk, cape billowing in the breeze behind him. It was a cooler breeze than the Bay had felt of late, and it was a bit stronger as the atmosphere became progressively more unsettled, not that Lenny took much notice.
The circus was in town, and he was looking forward to seeing all of the clowns and the animals—dogs jumping through hoops and baby dancing bears.
Chapter 17
On the boardwalk, Vinnie took a break from the pizza shop and waited for Dharma. She was going to march in the parade as a clown, but there were tons of clowns all over the boardwalk, so recognizing her wouldn’t be easy.
A female clown with a red wig smiled at him and sauntered over, honking her horn. Vinnie smiled and met her half-way, throwing his arms around her. He kissed her softly.
“You look great,” he said, drinking her in from her rubber nose to her floppy shoes. “Where’d you get this outfit?”
She didn’t answer him. She only honked her horn.
“Ah, so now I’m getting the silent treatment,” Vinnie teased. He leaned in close. “I have ways of making you talk.” His hands slipped around her waist and one slid down to cup her ass.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” asked a voice from behind him.
Vinnie turned around to see another female clown. Uh-oh. “Dharma?”
“Uh, yeah. What’s the big idea, Vincenzo?”
Vinnie released the other clown from his embrace. “Who the hell are you?”
“GOTCHA!” yelled Dharma. “That’s just my friend, Lucy.”
“Just? What’s that supposed to mean?” quipped Lucy. “Your boyfriend didn’t seem too disappointed.”
“Uh…um…” Vinnie had no words.
“I told you I’d get you back,” said Dharma as she leaned in for a kiss.
“Now I’m confused,” said Vinnie. “How do I know which one is the real you? I mean how do I really know?”
“You mean you can’t tell by my kiss?” asked Dharma.
“I don’t know. Let me kiss each of you again.” He pretended to lean in for a kiss from Lucy when Dharma punched him in the gut.
“Ouch,” said Vinnie. “Love hurts.”
“So are you going to watch me march in the parade?” Dharma asked.
“You know I wouldn’t miss it. Mike’s marching, too.”
At Blackbeard’s Pier, Mike was putting the finishing touches on Salvatore’s and Alessandra’s clown makeup. “And…that…should just about do it. We march in the parade soon. Have you two ever marched in a parade before?”
They both shook their heads.
“Well, it’s real easy. You just put one foot in front of the other. Just like tha
t.”
Randy smiled when he saw Mike and the two children in make-up. “You guys look great.”
“Thanks,” they said.
“Hey, did Nancy see you giving these two free rides all morning?”
“No,” said Mike, “and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“What don’t I know?” said an irritable voice from behind Randy.
“Nothing, Nancy,” said Mike. “I’m going to take the kids to line up for the parade.”
Nancy didn’t even acknowledge the children. “Well, come right back when the parade’s over. I’m not paying you to march in parades.”
“What a sense of community you have there, Nancy. Admit it, you miss me already.”
Nancy scowled at Mike, then Randy, and she left in a huff.
“I’m growing on her,” said Mike. “I can tell.”
“She’s not very nice, is she?” asked Salvatore.
“Oh, she’s not so bad,” said Mike. “You just have to get to know her.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Randy. “How long does that take?”
* * *
Alice Krueger arranged the paperwork in the binder for the next day’s reservations, while her sister Patricia checked someone in. While the man filled out the information for the parking tag, his wife looked at the brochures on the little table, and their two children watched the television set. A game show played, but it was television, which meant the children were deeply entranced.
There was a thud on the glass door, and Alice looked up. Her sister gasped when she saw it too. The two children screamed and ran to their mother, hiding behind her legs.
There was a clown covered in fake blood pressed up against the glass door. He pressed his face up against the glass, smearing red stuff all over it. He smiled, showing yellow teeth.
“It’s okay,” said the guest, Joseph Torres, looking up from filling out the paperwork. “It’s all part of Circus Faire.”
“Well, I think it’s in poor taste,” said his wife, holding the children close to her.
“Damned clowns!” Alice made as if to round the check-in counter when Patricia grabbed her by the arm.
The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel Page 28
