Horror Stories: A Macabre Collection (6 page)

“What’s that?” Bark grumbled, cheese dangling
from his lip.

“Ah, nothing,” Jay grumbled back.

Bark stuffed the last bit of crust into his
mouth and slurped up the last of his drink, shaking the ice at the
bottom of the cup to signal the end of his meal. He brought his
plate and unused fork and knife up to the counter, he grabbed a
napkin and dabbed his lip, again thanking Jay. Jay filled up his
cup for him and Bark was on his way. The bell jangled as Bark
opened the door and left. He headed home for the night.

The bell jangled again, a woman staggered in
to Jay’s. She held a purse at her side, her leg was swollen and
bloodied, dried blood streaked down to her high leather boots. If
you followed the blood back up toward her hips you would find
several bites and strips of gouged flesh. Muscle and fat stuck out
of the open flesh. Above that were the torn remains of a skirt,
kept around her waist by a belt. Hanging slightly over that and
partly tucked in her torn skirt was a blood soaked white button up
shirt that too was ripped to shreds. Her left breast was hanging
freely, a nipple barely hanging by a tendril of skin. From in
between her breasts to the bottom of her mouth were ragged folds of
skin held together by coagulated blood, the sticky sweet deep red
hung from her chin. The insides of her throat were visible as were
parts of her sternum. Her jaw hung slack, almost being pulled down
by the weight of the gore just below it. Her teeth were crooked,
some missing, others cracked. Her face was that of nightmares, hair
and blood became a road map of disaster, tears of agony bled
mascara down her cheeks, her nose was missing; it looked like her
face was dragged down a city block covered in glass. What was left
of her eyes found her way to Jay and his shock stuttered stare.
Could she even see him?

“My God! Lady sit down, I’ll call 911!” Jay
rambled out.

She gargled some kind of groan, her jaw moved
as if biting the air. She stepped closer.

Please be patient. All lines are busy. Your
call will be answered in the order it was received.

“Fuck, it’s busy! Just sit down—I’ll get you
a towel!” He was frantic.

Still staggering closer to him, she moved her
tongue across her bottom teeth. It was swollen and discolored. Jay
had a towel in hand and moved quickly towards the woman. He raised
the towel to her throat and she raised her hands toward his.
Confused, he stepped back.

“Sit, hold this to your neck,” he told
her.

She didn’t listen, she simply groaned and
moved her jaw toward him as if taking bites out of the air. She
smelled like piss, shit and death. Jay caught on quick and backed
up. He was close enough at first to feel her breath, he now
realized she hadn’t breathed. She was not weeping and she seemed
unaffected by the pain of her all-too visible wounds. Jay dropped
the towel, and stepped back farther, putting the phone back to his
ear.

Please be patient. All lines are busy. Your
call will be answered in the order it was received.

He had no choice but to continue backwards.
He was now behind the counter blindly reaching for the big wooden
spatula that was standing against the big oven door. His fingers
found it and pulled it into his palm. He raised it in front of
him.

“Get back. I’m warning you,” he was calmer
now than before.

She said nothing.

“Well, fuck you too.”

Jay put the wide end of the giant spatula
into the woman’s cold abdomen. Her movement was halted. He pushed,
she was not stepping back, he pushed harder and she staggered
backward. Groaning in disapproval she attempted to steady herself.
Jay didn’t give her the option. He pushed again, harder still, and
she staggered roughly to the wall behind her. Jay kept doing this
till they were back at the front door. He played a similar game at
times when a rat would make its way into the store, though he used
a broom instead of the spatula, and the rats were never this big.
He managed to pin her against the wall holding her there as he
awkwardly opened the door. Finally, he was able to shove her out.
He quickly did so and locked the door. He stood, spatula in hand,
staring out the glass door. She shuffled back toward the door,
hitting the glass with her hand, scraping with her nails. Though
she probably couldn’t see, her dead mutilated eyes stared right
back into Jay’s eyes. Neither of them blinked. Behind the dead
woman, more shadows stirred. Illuminated by the yellow streetlights
the shadows turned into figures, those figures walked toward Jay’s
Pizza Palace and they were hungry.

Bark had made his way back to his underground
suburbia. A fire was crackling in the pit. The makeshift milk-crate
couches were deserted. It was surprisingly quiet for this time of
the evening, not that Bark knew what time it was. He knew it was
dark out, and most folk were sitting by the fire and shooting the
shit; telling tall tales of the day and comparing currency by now.
A rustling noise was coming from one of the shacks. Bark walked
over to it, knocking on the plywood door.

“Hey, Spotz, you in there?” Bark asked.

The rustling became frantic. Bark slowly
opened the door, peeking inside. It sounded like someone was
looting shit or playing the one-handed shuffle. He hoped to find
neither. The door nearly opened, revealed Spotz shoving his
belongings into his backpack. Spotz swung his head around. He
looked terrified.

“Aggh!” Spotz yelled.

“Hey, man, it’s jus’ me. Where you
headed?”

“Outta here. Peeps on the street gone crazy!
Fuck, man, they was eatin’ each other—rippin guts out an’
shit!”

“What the fuck you talkin’ bout? You whacked
out? Thought you quit that shit,” Bark replied.

“Man, I ain’t on nothin’! You were out there.
You didn’t see anything? I ain’t making it up, people attacking
people, eating them—just ripping them apart!” Spotz sobbed.

“Aight, aight, relax…”

“Fuck you! Relax?
You
must be on some
shit, we need to get the fuck outta here man, outta the city, and
now!”

“Well, do what you gotta do. I’m staying
right here.”

“You do that, and yer as good as dead,
man.”

“Yeah, sure. Have a good trip,” Bark said as
he turned and left the man to his packing.

Spotz didn’t comment. He finished shoving his
things into his bag, grabbed his cap and slung the bag over his
shoulder. He stepped out of his little shack looking warily in all
directions. His eyes found Bark sitting by the fire, stoking it
back to a proper size. Spotz quickly walked over to Bark with the
intent of getting him to flee the city. Then he heard the noise of
moving rocks under shuffling feet. Spotz turned to the usual
entrance and sure enough; the neighbors were coming home.

“Bark, get yer shit and let’s go, now!” He
snapped, pointing in the direction of the entrance.

“Man, chill the fuck out. You’re freakin’ me
out.”

“Just get up and look, they ain’t normal,”
Spotz insisted.

“Alright. Alright… just can it,” Bark stood
up.

“See?”

“Yeah, I see everybody coming back.”

“Fuck this, I’m outta here you blind
bastard.”

Spotz took off down the tunnel. He started a
quick jog, following the tracks, rats scurrying as he did. He knew
the tunnels well and planned on making it toward the south end of
the waterfront where the main tunnel came to an end. Bark watched
him take off, shaking his head in disbelief. Crack heads always did
crazy shit, he remembered a time when another friend of his got
hooked and tore apart the insides of his home with an axe. His
friend was convinced that creatures and midgets were living in the
walls, pimps and animals were in the trees, but they were okay so
long as they stayed outside. Bark turned his attention back to the
slowly approaching group. They were grumbling something. It sounded
like moans.

“Hey, Joey-G! You score some bug juice?” His
question turned into laughter.

His question went unanswered. He could now
see Joey-G and the rest of them; Big Ricky, who was the smallest
guy you’d ever meet without being a dwarf; Gumbo, who didn’t have
any teeth and would put anything in her mouth for a hit of the
rock. Then there was Randy, who everybody thought was crazy, and
when crack heads called you crazy you were certified bonkers. It
looked like Buddy or Wes was in the back, but he couldn’t be
sure.

They continued to move closer to Bark, closer
to the light of the fire and closer to being revealed as
bloodthirsty ghouls. They moaned and hissed, louder now; Bark got a
sense that maybe Spotz wasn’t too far off. He felt something was
wrong. He cocked his head, as if it would help him see the faces of
his friends better. The moaning and noises made Bark shiver, his
blood turned to ice. He turned and ran, hoping Spotz was going slow
enough that he’d be able to catch up.

Bark had only sprinted for about a minute but
his legs burned and his lungs were screaming for air. Though he
walked a lot, Bark did not have the stamina for running, he was
malnourished, aging poorly and had taped his sneakers together. He
called out for Spotz numerous times only to hear his cries bounce
back at him. His run turned into a labored speed walk, he continued
into the depths of the tunnel system. He could barely hear the
moans now; he heard only his breath, and the dripping and hissing
of pipes and steam. Rocks shifted under his feet as he hurried
through the tunnel. The tunnel emptied out into a larger room with
a half dozen other tunnels to choose from. Bark quickly decided to
head to the waterfront, he chose the second tunnel from the right.
The squeaks of rodents pierced his ears as he entered the
tunnel.

“Spotz!” He yelled. He could hear the
desperation in his own voice thanks to the echoes.

His voice was hoarse. He felt like shit and
was covered in sweat; his sneakers were taking on water. He trudged
on, and then quickly came to a pause. He heard the sounds of moving
rocks, the kind of sounds that were made by someone or some thing
walking on them. He listened. The sounds were slow and steady,
calculated. The tunnel was dark, damn near pitch black, shimmers of
reflected light acted as road signs in the tunnels. Bark wasn’t
looking for a destination, he was looking for the shimmers of light
to be broken, and sure enough, they were. Straight ahead, inside
the tunnel, no more than ten feet from the tip of his jagged toe
something crept toward him.

“Hello?” He called, no answer.

“I know you’re there,” Bark continued.

“I just want to pass, I don’t have anything,”
he pleaded with the shadows.

“Please.”

“I swear if you try to take one bite outta my
fuggin’ ass you will die in this tunnel. You hear me?” Spotz spoke
up.

“Oh, fuck, thank God it’s you, you scared the
shit out of me!” Bark wheezed out.

“You were right, some thing is wrong with
everybody, they

wer--”

“Can it and let’s move. This way,” Spotz cut
him off.

They walked fast and purposefully, nearing
the end of the tunnel. They stepped out. A grate in the ceiling
allowed a bit of light to shine down on them. Stumbling at them
from behind was a grotesque mangled body with outstretched arms. It
didn’t moan, and probably couldn’t. It’s throat looked like it was
chewed out, his jaw was slung to the left. The tips of his fingers
were bloodied and dark, fingernails bent back and chipped. He
managed to get his hands around Bark’s neck. Bark gasped and
reached for the cold dead hands around his neck. Instead of
thinking he reacted, and reacted poorly. It was his instincts that
led his life underground, and if he kept it up, those instincts
would lead to his death. Spotz grabbed a large rock. Holding it
with both hands he raised it over his head and brought if
full-force into the face of Bark’s attacker. Spotz held onto the
large rock, almost losing his balance doing so. He lifted it again,
pulling the rock out of the smashed-in-face, revealing bits of
gore, chipped teeth, and bubbling blood as thick as paste. The
creatures grip loosened and Spotz brought the rock down again. This
time he put all his weight into it, knocking both himself and the
creature to the ground. The rock became a headstone on top of the
twitching mangled corpse. Blood oozed from beneath the rock. Bark
held his neck and gasped for air as he ran over to Spotz. Spotz was
lifting himself up as Bark stood over him. Bark thanked him, but
the expression on his face was more than enough.

They carried on their way through the dark
maze of tunnels and train tracks. They passed familiar landmarks
and other homeless shacks; all of which were unattended,
thankfully. The tunnel emptied out into another room. To the left
there was a staircase leading to a storage room. To the right of
that was another door which led to a service level between them and
eventually the street. Neither of these would do. The storage room
was a dead end and the service level would have Transit workers and
possibly other obstacles especially since Spotz insisted the
streets above were running red with madness and murder. Instead,
they picked the next tunnel and hurried down it.

They were approaching the end of the tunnel.
The tunnel emptied out into a gravel pit with walls on both sides.
The tracks continued over the water via a bridge and were reduced
to two lines, coming and going. There were plenty of lights along
the top of the walls. They climbed out of the pit clinging to the
right side of the wall. Spotz peered over the edge and glimpsed a
look at hell. He and Bark now stood behind a fence atop the wall
they had just climbed up. They both stood flabbergasted. The scene
before them was total and utter mayhem. Gunshots filled the air, as
did screams and cries. A woman crashed into a parked car, she was
driving an SUV with two kids in the back. She tried to reverse the
vehicle and ended up hitting another. People surrounded her, a slow
swarm but surely a lethal one. As she tried to free the vehicle
they were able to break the windows, pulling the children and the
woman to the street. Their screams and shrieks were things no human
ears should ever have to hear–calling for God, crying for help, a
mother reaching for her children as they screamed for her to help
them. She couldn’t. She watched the creatures pull flesh from her
children’s faces and throats, before she blacked out from her own
exploration in pain she watched one of the creatures pull the
intestines from one of her small children’s bellies. The creatures
feasted, eating the flesh in pulled clumps, hair, lips it didn’t
matter. One of them ripped the tongue from the mother’s mouth and
ate that too. They couldn’t help but watch.