Skinners Page 7

  Steve ears rang from the magnificent noise of the crash, his head numb from where it had bounced off the windshield. Warm liquid ran down his forehead, pooling in his right eye. When he lifted his hand to clear the blood, his left eye clearly saw the pale hand latched on to his arm. He stared at the hand, unable to recall whom it had belonged to, or why it was no longer connected to its owner. Through the open passenger window, he could see three figures approaching, calmly strolling toward him. His first thought was, why are those dummies walking in the rain? When their mouths opened and the fireflies gushed out, he could only watch in confused amazement.

  Wow, he thought. Beautiful.

  Something grabbed his left arm. Steve looked down, expecting to see another disembodied hand, and instead saw Thom’s face, his mouth moving, but only muffled tones floating to his ears. “What?” Steve shouted. He turned back to the window to view the stunning display of lights. The walking people still vomited the fireflies. This time, some of the bugs made it to the shelter of the roof before the rain could kill them. This made Steve smile. He liked fireflies. His mom called them lightning bugs.

  Pulling harder, Thom dragged Steve across the driver’s seat and out into open air reeking of gasoline and smoke. The ceiling above the pumps glowed orange from the spreading flames and the few spores that survived the rain.

  Thom grabbed Steve by the shoulders and shouted in his face, “RUN!”

  The word was muted, as if underwater, but Steve could easily read the man’s lips and the expression of fear on his face. Thom let go and ran into the pouring rain, pushing Angie and her little brother along. Steve followed, still confused from the crash. He sloshed after his friends, through the growing pool of gasoline.

  When headlights washed over his clear eye, and the muffled pops of gunfire erupted, Steve went from confused to just plain scared. He ran faster, reaching out for Thom’s back.

  That’s when the orange glow intensified. Heat washed over Steve’s back, and his feet lifted off the ground as the gasoline ignited.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He awoke to the sound of his name. “Steve?” He blinked, his vision clearing to see Angie staring into his eyes.

  Angie sighed. “Thank God.”

  Steve sat up, moaning at the pain lancing deep into his skull. He reached up to touch his head and remembered the hand. Thankfully, it was gone. Whether it had fallen during the explosion or if someone had removed it he didn’t know and didn’t really feel like asking. He glanced around. Angie and Leland sat next to him in the backseat of a strange vehicle; Thom sat up front in the passenger seat. An unfamiliar woman drove the car.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Happy to hear him speak, Angie smiled. “We crashed into the gas pumps. I crawled out the back window with Leland. You banged your head pretty good and almost got caught by that spore stuff, but Thom pulled you out just in time.” She gestured toward the driver. “Then the sheriff showed up and shot my … shot those … copies.” She paused and wiped what could’ve been a tear, or a drop of rain, from her cheek. “Then the gas blew up, sent you flying and knocked you silly for a minute. The entire store went up in flames.”

  Leaning his aching head back, Steve moaned and said, “Good.” He glanced around the car again. Wait … The sheriff? He would’ve laughed at the irony of the situation if his head didn’t hurt so much. After all the shit I’ve been through tonight, I ended up in the back of a cop car anyway.

  Thom turned around in his seat. “How you doing back there?”

  Steve made a circle with thumb and index finger. “Dandy.”

  Cracking a smile, Thom pointed to the driver. “This here’s Sheriff MacReady. She saved all our butts back there. We’re headed to the gym now.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff,” Steve said. “Hey, I bet Thom will sell you his Jeep now.” That brought some nervous giggles from the front seat. “Is the school the best place? What about the hospital?”

  The sheriff shook her head. “No good. The hospital is overrun with those flesh-eating eels and most of the staff have been infected. I’ve deputized some folks at the school and they’re watching all points of entry. We have a couple off duty nurses there that can treat your head … and your arm, Thom.”

  Steve sighed. “Finally, some good news.”

  “Well don’t get too comfy,” Thom said. “There’s been reports of your Skinners all over the county. Sheriff says The National Guard’s been called in to restore order and hopefully get all the uninfected out of the hot zone, so we may be heading out of here by morning. Or we may be quarantined, who knows. Either way we’ll be safe.”

  Steve grinned at Thom’s use of the name he’d given the worms. “Fine with me.”

  “Me too,” Leland added.

  Steve reached over and ruffled the boy’s soaked hair.

  As they entered the edge of town, homes came into view, their porch lights burning with a welcoming glow. Steve’s spirits lifted at the sight, but as they passed the small houses the feeling quickly dissipated. Front doors gaped wide open on several homes. Others displayed shattered windows, signs of violence. On one house, the rear of a giant old yellow station wagon protruded from crumpled garage doors.

  Silence filled the interior of the vehicle as they all exchanged worried looks.

  When the Sheriff’s car pulled into the school parking lot they were met with bobbing flashlights from several people. She rolled down the driver’s window and spoke to one in the lead. “It’s all right, Bill, I’ve got Thom Grant here and a few of his friends. Everyone checks out.”

  The light splashed over Thom, who waved back. “Hey, Bill, how’s the wife?”

  “Hey, Thom, glad to see you’re all right, but your looking a little pale, buddy. Cynthia’s just fine. She’s inside. You look like y’all could use some coffee and donuts. We got plenty.”

  The gang of four exited the vehicle. Sheriff MacReady stayed behind the wheel. She leaned out the window to speak with Bill. “Thom’s arm needs some tending to, and so does the young man’s head. You keep a tight watch, go in shifts.”

  “Gotcha,” Bill said, nodding. “You find any sign of your missing officer?”

  The sheriff nodded, a strained look on her face, answering Bill’s next question before he could ask it. She’d happened upon the scene of the ambulance just before rolling up on Thom’s crashed Jeep, finding her deputy’s skinned corpse in the grass along the road.

  Bill’s shoulders slumped. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

  The sheriff nodded again. “Me too. I’m going to head back out; there’s still some calls I need to check on.”

  “All right, we’ll take care of these folks. You be careful out there.”

  Bill waved and watched the Sheriff’s car leave the parking lot. He turned and escorted the new arrivals inside. “Hey, Thom. Remember when we ruled this place?”

  Thom walked along side Bill, clutching the saturated bandanna wrapped around his wound. “When you ruled it, you mean. You were the damn quarterback. I was the beatnik dropout if I recall correctly.”

  Walking behind the old high school buddies, Steve and Angie looked at each other in surprise, both whispering to the other, “Beatnik?”

  “Yeah,” Bill said, followed by a hacking laugh. “But the girls liked us both just the same.”

  * * *

  After two cups of hot, black coffee, and three glazed donuts, Steve felt almost back to normal. The nurse had cleaned and dressed the wound on his forehead, claiming it unworthy of stitches and that he would be just fine. The caffeine worked its magic. So much so, Steve volunteered to be on watch duty.

  Bill was more than happy to accept his offer. Thom on the other hand had been ordered to lie down. He’d lost too much blood from his wound; he needed antibiotics and plenty of rest. And when things settled down, he would need surgery. When Steve found him, he was snoring peacefully on a sleeping bag spread out on the hard gymnasium floor. Angie lie next to him, also sound asleep, with a snoozing
Leland curled up next to her.

  Bending down, Steve whispered, “Thom? I want to thank you for all you did tonight. I thought because you were a jarhead like my dad that you’d be an asshole like him. But you’re not. You’re a good person.” He reached out to touch the sleeping man, and then pulled back. “There’s something I want to tell you … ”

  To Steve’s surprise, the old man opened his eyes. “I know, Steve.”

  “You know?”

  “I know you were gonna rob the store.”

  Shame washed over Steve. “Oh. I was just going to tell you … I’m gay.”

  A puzzled look scrunched Thom’s pale features. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  With a grin, Steve said, “Nothing, I guess.”

  Thom reached out and patted Steve’s shoulder. “You need money just ask. And promise you won’t ever do anything stupid like that again.”

  “Yeah,” Steve said, tears clouding his vision. “I promise.”

  * * *

  After Thom fell to sleep, Steve walked off, leaving his new friends behind, proud to be helping out and doing something productive for a change. He wished he could’ve saved the water gun from the Jeep, but the baseball bat Bill had provided him with would have to do. Apparently, the school didn’t allow energy drinks. At least none of the machines he’d checked were stocked with any, so the gun would’ve been useless anyway.

  With the bat swinging at his side, Steve strolled the abandoned halls of the high school, checking every door leading to outside, making sure they were secure. Seeing the copies push through the front door of the convenience store was enough to convince him of their ability to open doors, so he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The empty, bright corridors stretched before him. The dark windows of the closed classroom doors stared back on either side. The doors, lockers, and that olfactory property that can only be detected in scholastic halls such as these, flooded Steve’s head with memories. Some good ones, but for the most part, the memories were bad.

  “The best years of your life,” he muttered to the empty hall. His voice echoed back, sounding like his father. Steve stopped walking and laughed. He realized he hadn’t felt an ounce of concern for his father since all this started just a few hours earlier. A junkie, and three people he’d never met before, those were the only folks he’d felt any kinship with tonight. Thinking of Lisa saddened him for a moment, but recalling the image of Thom, Angie, and Leland resting peacefully on the gym floor washed some of that sorrow away. He started forward again, a thin smile creasing his face. It felt good to have someone to care about; people you wanted to protect.

  To his surprise, the next door he checked opened with ease. “Shit,” he said, jumping back. Embarrassed, he glanced around the empty hall. He shook his head. “Still acting like a scared high-schooler, worrying about what people will think of you.”

  Scooting forward, Steve used the bat to push the door open. Somebody had secured the lever in the down position to prevent the door from locking. He opened it further.

  “Anybody out here?”

  The outside floodlight revealed a small portion of an empty field behind the school, reflecting off wet grass. The rain had finally stopped; the songs of night insects filled the air. Steve surveyed the area for signs of life, finding only smashed cigarette butts at his feet. He sighed in relief. Somebody on guard duty just taking a smoke break. He stepped back inside, secured the door, and continued his rounds.

  As he walked, his mind returned to his father and the horrible things he’d said after Steve had revealed his secret. Queer. Faggot. Those words hadn’t bothered Steve so much; he’d heard those enough in school. The word that did it; the one that sent him running away, full of hatred for his father – and the world for that matter – was one he’d never forget – Abomination. To cap it off, as Steve jumped into Lisa’s waiting car, before he could slam the door he heard his father yell, “It’s all your fault. Your mother died because of your sin.”

  Anger flushing his cheeks, Steve squeezed the bat’s grip. “She died because a drunk driver turned her car into scrap metal. If she was still here you never would’ve said any of those things to me you piece of––”

  He stopped when he rounded a corner and saw the open door.

  Dropping to a crouch, Steve approached the opening as quietly as possible. One half of the room’s double doors stood ajar, revealing nothing but darkness. As he moved closer, he could see the wedge of wood that had been used to prop the door open, but beyond that, nothing but shadows.

  A clatter from the other side of the entrance reached his ears. Steve inched closer, raising the bat as if waiting for a pitch. He willed his feet to move forward as more noises floated through the dark opening.

  Just kick the doorstop and let it close, he thought. Then go get some help.

  Steve nodded at the thought and stepped forward. That’s when the hum reached his ears.

  He froze mid step, left foot hanging in midair as if posing for his baseball card. The humming grew louder, reverberating into the cavernous hall. A bright light splashed the surface of the propped door.

  Spores! his mind screamed. A copy must’ve gotten inside. The wedge still waited just ten feet away, but it seemed more like fifty.

  Steve rushed forward, the air between him and the doorstop suddenly becoming thick, time ticking away at half-speed. Just as he reached the threshold of the doorway, it came at him with a blaze of light and an echoing hum. Steve jumped back and raised the bat above his head.

  The scooter stopped in the doorway with a squeal of brakes, silencing the hum. The large woman in the driver’s seat looked at him with surprise; a camping lantern strapped to the handlebars illuminated the surrounding hall.

  Recognizing the woman from the convenience store, Steve released the breath he’d been holding, and huffed a nervous laugh. The lady stared back, her kids huddling behind her with vacant expressions, each cradling bags of chips and cans of soda. Without a word the woman rolled off down the hall, her offspring following like ducklings. One of the kids glanced back at Steve, jogged to catch up with his mother, and motioned for her to stop. He whispered into her ear. She looked back at Steve, then to her son, and nodded. The kid ran back to Steve and held out a bag of potato chips and a soda.

  “Thanks,” Steve said, accepting the gift. The boy ran back to his family, and together, they moved off down the hall.

  His eyes swimming, Steve watched them go, and then casually kicked the wedge, letting the door to the cafeteria slam shut. He continued his perimeter check, working his way back to the gymnasium. Bill greeted him with a smile and a bottle of water, both of which Steve gladly accepted.

  “You look bushed, son,” Bill said. “I just woke up, so I’ll relieve you. You should try and get some shuteye before the National Guard arrives. Once they get here this place will be a madhouse.”

  Detecting the reek of cigarettes on Bill’s breath, Steve knew he’d solved the mystery of who’d been sneaking smoke breaks outside. He nodded, chugged some water, and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll lie down for a bit, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep … not after the crap I’ve seen tonight.”

  Bill grunted once. “I hear ya there, son. Well, at least rest your feet.”

  Steve relinquished the baseball bat as if it were a precious sword being offered to a valiant victor. “Happy hunting, good sir.”

  Bill patted the revolver on his hip. “You keep it. I’m all set.”

  * * *

  Just like he’d expected, sleep eluded Steve. The sleeping bag offered little protection from the hard wooden floor; he tried every position, flopping about like a fish in a boat. Finally, Steve admitted defeat, sat up, and glanced around. Two sleeping bags over, Angie slept soundly, Leland curled up next to her in a tight ball, his mouth open, bottom lip shiny with drool. Steve’s soda and bag of chips rested next to Leland, a gift for the poor kid when he woke up.

  Thom slept on the other side of t
he siblings; his arm, now properly treated and bandaged, rested on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths. Steve actually felt joy seeing these people safe and sleeping. His tension melted away, and eventually he leaned back, his eyes fluttering a few times before closing.

  He awoke to the chatter of voices nearby. Glancing around through sleep-crusted eyes, Steve saw that some folks around the gym were stirring, rising to their feet and stretching their knotted muscles, prepping for the arrival of the National Guard. Others remained in their sleeping bags, their lethargic movements giving them the appearance of cocoons on the verge of rebirth.

  Steve instantly recognized Bill’s basso voice among the conversations, the voice of a longtime heavy smoker. “Hey, Thom old boy, you’re looking better. Good to see you moving around … who’s your friend?”

  Bill’s rumbling laugh followed – half guffaw, half cough. “What’s up with the shirt, Thom?” Bill asked between hacks. “I didn’t peg you as a Twihard. Or do you call yourself a Twilighter like my granddaughter?”

  Something about the man’s questions put Steve on alert. He sat up and rubbed his gummy eyelids. Why is Bill talking about Twilight?

  Then, like a truck it hit him – the t-shirt at the store where he’d found Lisa. The Twilight t-shirt he’d refused to wear, preferring to go shirtless instead.

  Steve looked over the still forms of Angie and Leland, and then at Thom still dead asleep on his sleeping bag. The fresh white bandage on the man’s arm drew his attention.

  “Oh shit,” Steve whispered. “It ate his flesh.” The memory played out like a B-movie in his head: the Skinner snatching a patch of Thom’s tattooed arm, slurping the morsel down its gullet, then slithering away.

  “IT ATE HIS FLESH!” Steve shouted as he stood. Turning, he could see Bill among the throng. The surprised look on the man’s face would’ve been funny under different circumstances, but at the moment, Steve wasn’t in a laughing mood. Because before Bill, stood a man Steve had just witnessed peacefully sleeping only a few yards away.