“What … what do you mean?” the bartender stammered out.
“I shot off his weapon. The one made of flesh.”
“Th … Th …Thank you.”
Bowie turned from the bar and left the saloon.
I turned the TV off. “Enough of this shit,” I said as I stood. “This has got to stop. People are right. This isn’t healthy. It’s fucking sick.”
I took the bottle of whiskey into the kitchen and poured it down the drain. I stubbed the cigar out by stuffing it down the neck of the empty bottle. I was just about to pull the hoodie off when I heard Freddie scream.
At that moment the whole room, the whole house, started to shake. Plates fell from cupboards, the microwave rattled to the edge of the countertop and fell off, the window over the sink was clattering. I feared it would smash and shoot the glass right at me. There was a thunderous rumble sounding all around, it felt like the floor was wobbling.
I dropped the whiskey bottle into the sink, it started to skid and bop around the shiny surface as I turned and entered the living room on unsteady legs. The TV fell over; the door to the hall was opening and closing, the slamming loud and sharp. I could hear Freddie’s screams intensifying.
The noise was already deafening when I started up the stairs, having to hold the rail tight for balance, but it got worse when the whistling kicked in. The sound seemed to enter my brain like an electric shock. An instant headache discharged pain inside my skull. I couldn’t cover my ears. If I did, I was sure to fall. I had to lean at an angle just to get up the last of the stairs.
I got my hand onto the handle of Freddie’s door, he was crying, there was a banging sound, but I couldn’t tell if it was coming from a meltdown or the event that was juddering the house. It kinda felt like the Earth was having its own meltdown.
A chorus of barking and yapping started to yelp outside as I opened his door. Freddie was under his bed; I could see his feet sticking out. All of his toys were scattered around the room, and some of the shelves they used to be standing on too.
“Don’t worry, sweetie, Mommy is here.” I dropped to the floor and crawled under the bed next to him. He had his hands clamped over his ears, his face in the carpet, crying out an ear-piercing noise of his own.
The power went off and the room went black, the light that had being shining through his doorway was no more. Freddie screamed and I risked holding onto him, he didn’t brush me away. The bed started to jump up and down a few inches, on one of its falls it whacked the top of my head, a little trickle of blood started to run the length of my face, coming from the front of my hairline.
Then the shaking stopped, the whistling too, and the bed settled. The power flashed back for a few seconds. The lights in the hall outside of Freddie’s room came back on. I could hear alarms wailing outside, and then the power went out again, while at the same time, the bulb in the hall exploded. Freddie cried even louder. The alarms cut off. The dogs stopped barking.
“It’s okay. It’s stopped. It’s gone.” I stroked Freddie’s hair, he still didn’t move away.
“My ears feel funny. My head hurts.”
“Mine too.”
“Are you having a meltdown too, Mommy?”
“I think everyone is, sweetie.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think it’s because of the bomb in the backyard?”
I was confused. “There’s no bomb, Freddie. You must have been having a bad dream when the noise woke you up.”
Freddie raised his head from the floor and removed his hands from his ears. He seemed calmer than me at that moment, but just as upset, tears and snot had covered his face. “I wasn’t, Mommy. I was looking out of the window when the shaking started.”
“What were you doing out of bed?”
“The air was stinging me, so I opened my window like you taught me ... Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry, that was very smart. Good boy. I’m proud of you.”
“The thunder started as the lawn spit the bomb out.”
“Mommy is confused. Could you show me what you’re talking about?”
“Yes.” He scooted from under the bed, I did the same but it took me twice as long as him. He grabbed my hand and ran me to the window. I had to jump debris on the way. I also noticed a large crack in the wall over his bed.
My jaw fell when I saw he was telling the truth. In the middle of our backyard was a shiny metal-looking object sticking out of the ground. It looked like a space-age peapod. It appeared as if it had blasted through the dirt in an upward motion, forced its way from underground somehow.
The top of the pod was open, four separate sections spread wide. There was flashing lights inside and a larger light on top, shining in the direction of our house. The inside of the pod looked like a mess of computer parts, blinking and flashing, it reminded me of that movie, Tron.
“See Mommy, I told you.” Freddie tugged on my arm.
“Yes, you did.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Is it a bomb?”
“I don’t think so, baby.”
“A spaceship?”
“Don’t be silly.” I laughed, uncomfortably. It could have been one of those things for all I knew.
Something crashed, cracked and crunched downstairs. Both Freddie and me jumped. I quickly placed my hand over his mouth and said, “Hush.” I led him to his closet as quickly a possible and we both got inside. I closed the door, and looked through the slits in the wood.
Thuds. Someone was on our stairs. Creak. Someone was at Freddie’s door. I held my breath, could feel my son’s on the palm of my hand. I knelt down next to him; his eyes were wide, tears flowing. Crunch. Someone had stepped into his room.
It was pitch black in the room but I could see what had entered well enough for a little piss to sneak free. The shadowed creature slowly walked toward Freddie’s bed. I could hear sniffles, like it was trying to get a scent. That made me swallow and Freddie start to shake. I held him to me, tight, praying he would stay as silent as possible.
The blackness in front of us had to be over six feet. It was deathly thin though, with legs longer than its body. Its head was enormous, its neck just as big. Its arms were long enough to reach to the floor and its hands had three, long fingers.
A beam of light lit the creature. It turned toward it and roared a feverous shriek. Freddie grabbed hold of me, but my hand fell from his mouth. He screamed and the beast turned to the closet, the beam showing me its full features in high-definition.
It had four mouths, all connected in the center of its head. They were full to the brim with rows of teeth, dripping slobber. They were sharp, long, thin, and needle-like. The eyes above its mouth were bugged out, huge, black as midnight. Its skin was the color of gloomy crystal, practically elasticated, glossy, oily, wet.
A bang boomed, sounded like a gunshot. It was. The blast hit the monster as it reached toward the closet. Its torso erupted in spurts of gooey, gloopy grease as it backpedaled with its long arms pinwheeling and its talons scratching at the roof of Freddie’s room. Dust was flying.
Another shot struck it. This one hit an eye. The eye exploded. More slime popped and it cried out loud enough to smash the window in the room. Another bang followed quickly and the monster’s right arm flew from its body, hitting the wall behind the bed, leaving a trail of slug-like glop.
The last shot dropped the monster onto Freddie’s bed, the dark blood of the thing soaking into his covers, running over the floor at a quick enough speed to reach us in seconds.
The closet door sprung outward. The bright light hit us. Freddie screamed. I pulled him into me. I squinted. I couldn’t see shit, though. The light was too intense at first. When it was angled at the floor a man came into view. He was carrying a pump action shotgun.
“What the fuck was that thing?” I screamed with a shaky and croaking voice. “And who the hell are you?”
“The name’s Kent. That thing was an alien. Come with me if you want to live.”
JUNE
Alec and me ran back into his apartment and slammed the door closed. Alec was quick to lock it. I turned off the flashlight then hugged into him and whispered into his ear in a stutter of breathlessness, “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered back, his voice just as affected as mine. “You can bet your ass it wasn’t a terrorist, though.”
“I’m starting to freak out.” I was. It felt like my hair was going to turn gray and my bones were going to shake from my body. My teeth were even chattering and I wasn’t even cold. In fact I was burning up, sweat running over my face, some into my eyes, stinging them.
“I don’t think we’ll be safe in the apartment. Wherever my mom is, she won’t be safe either. We have to make a break for it.” Having his hands holding onto my body felt good. I should have probably been thinking about something more important at that moment.
“How do you mean?” I asked. We both took a few steps back from the door as the screams reached a crescendo of unpleasantness. Gurgling. Choking. Coughing. Cries of complete anguish, coming from a voice that was losing its ability to vocalize the unbearable pain.
“The parking lot, under the building. We go there, grab my car.” I heard him swallow, could feel his heart beating against me.
“What about your mom?” Had he forgot?
“I haven’t forgot. I just don’t think staying here is wise. If she has left the building, it’s more important we cut her off before she even attempts to get in the place. If she is stuck in an elevator, that’s a safer spot to be in than the one we’re in. At least that monster doesn’t have a chance of finding her if she’s trapped there, even if she’s freaking out about the enclosed space, I don’t think she’d mind if she knew what the alternative was.”
“I guess you’re right, but …” Fear was able to choke me, to close my throat enough to stop the rest of the words flowing.
“But what?”
I forced them out in rasps. “To get to the underground garage, we’ll have to travel down quite a few floors, to do that we’ll have to get to the stairwell, to do that we’ll have to pass Mister Harington’s place, that thing is in Mister Harington’s place.”
“I know, but if we don’t try, that thing could soon be in here with us. Do you think it will stay in Mister Harington’s once its finished eating, or killing, or fucking, or whatever the hell it’s doing to that poor guy? I sure as hell don’t think it will, it’s not like it’s going to make itself a sandwich and sit and watch the game on TV.”
“Okay, let’s go.” I didn’t want to. I wanted to stay put, but then it hit me. Hiding in a dangerous place was never a good plan. It was stupid. I‘d done that at my home for years. I could have saved myself a lot of hurt if I’d just abandoned my dad, hidden somewhere less dangerous, but fear had trapped me there for too long. I couldn’t let that happen on that night.
“Good. I’m glad you agree. Light the way to my mom’s room again, keep the beam aimed at the floor, maybe cover it slightly with your hand, so we don’t draw any unwanted attention to us.”
I did as Alec asked, having no idea what he was planning. When we were in his mom’s room he opened up her closet and pushed some of the clothes on the rail to the side. “I started by dressing in her clothes when she wasn’t home, you know?”
“This seems like an odd time to give me a history lesson concerning cross dressing, Alec.” I kept flitting my head over my shoulders to the door we’d entered the room from, half expecting that evil being to burst through at any moment. The suspense was killing me, but at least a monster wasn’t.
“I guess you’re right.” He knelt on the floor, moved some shoes to the side, and opened up a compartment in the base of the closet. He pulled a black case out and we moved to the bed, where he put the case, and started to enter a combination into the locking mechanism.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“This, my dear, is a Taurus Model 85 .38 Special+P Revolver with a white frame and pink grip. It holds five rounds. Cute, isn’t it?” he asked, as he removed the gun from the case and held it under the light of the flash for me to see.
“That’s not the word I’d have used to describe it … What do you plan to do with that thing? I hate guns.”
“Well, we can’t use your toy Sonic screwdriver … and what do you think I plan to do with it? If that monster tries to take a bite, the .38 special takes a bite. I’ll feel safer having it and not needing it, than not having it and needing it.”
“I’m not sure I will. Can you even shoot that thing? I’ve seen you throw a football.”
“Of course I can. You point it in the direction of the bad guy and you pull the trigger. Any damn fool can shoot a gun.” He grabbed my hand and started to lead me from his mom’s room. “I’ve been to the range with my mom a few times. I painted my nails to match the color of the gun. Some guy made a comment about them … it wasn’t a compliment. I thought my mom was going to shoot him, so we haven’t been back since.”
We both stood behind the door, ready to leave the apartment. Alec had let go of my hand, he had one hand on the door handle now, and the other was still holding his pink gun. I had the flashlight, now powered down.
“I’ll go out first,” he whispered. “When you’re out, grab hold of my skirt at the back, so we don’t lose each other in the dark. Don’t pull on it though; I don’t want to end up on my ass. We go slow and silent. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe. We only have five apartments to pass before we have to turn to be in the stairwell. When we get there, turn the flash on, or we’ll end up falling down the damn stairs. Clear?”