TO HELL WITH YOUR DUMBASS, ZOMBIE FLAG!

(Image taken from: spencersonline.com) 

“Are you sure people are even in there?” Lou the zombie, formerly Louis Federici of Little Falls, New Jersey, asked.

“Yes,” Jeff the zombie, formerly Jeffrey Eloy of Allentown, Pennsylvania said.
He held his only eye out with his outstretched hand so he could see even farther from the bushes. He stared at a lone cabin that stood completely in the dark.

 Ever since the viral outbreak occurred and the undead began to outnumber the living, it’s been harder and harder to find a decent meal. It was literally a zombie apocalypse since zombies were the ones starving to death and dying off. Every human who wasn’t completely consumed by a zombie became a zombie themselves, and thus the curse continued. If there could be any comparison in human history to the zombie’s plight, it would be that of the potato famine of 1845. Except instead of potatoes, zombies missed out on spleens, flesh, and brains. There could never be enough brains for the zombie population. Whenever something was seen as inventive or new, zombies said that it was the best thing since sliced brains. A picture of a brain even adorned the zombie’s international flag. It was international because zombies had taken over the world, of course. How could they not? There were so many of them!

Lou licked his decayed, corroded lips just thinking about brains.

“I’m starvin’, Jeff! Can’t we just go in there and get them already?”

            “No!” Jeff ordered. His remaining seven teeth chattered in his skull. Winter wasn’t kind to the zombie. Summer wasn’t either, as zombie skin melted and festered underneath the odious sun, but winter was the worst. During wintertime, you found thousands of zombies face down in the dirt. And they weren’t napping or looking for worms, that’s for sure.

“You think I ain’t hungry?” Jeff barked. “The last time I ate was with you. But you have to be patient, man. Those humans in there ain’t suckers. They can’t be if they made it this long.”

Zombies took over the world over twenty years ago.

            “And you’re sure there are four of them in there?” Lou asked.

            “Yeah. And a dog. It’s the dog I’m actually worried the most about. When have you ever heard a dog be so quiet when zombies were around?”

            “Never,” Lou said.

            “They must have that damn thing trained to kill. Even with a muzzle on, we’d hear it growling, right?”

            Jeff stuck his eye back in his face, twisting it back and forth like a light bulb. The last thing he wanted was to lose the only eye he had left. A crow got his other eye. But at least he still had all of his limbs, unlike Lou, who missed a right arm and part of his left knee cap. He never told Jeff how he lost his arm or how part of his knee was missing, and Jeff never asked him what happened. A zombie’s missing limbs was their own personal business. That was one of the few things they actually still had and could call their own in today’s society—secrets.  

            “I’m going in,” Lou said and he got up. Jeff brought him right back down with him.

            “Now don’t be a damn fool, Lou. We’re going to wait here until they go to sleep.”

            “And how do you know they ain’t already sleeping?”

            “Because they haven’t started a fire yet. They wouldn’t go to sleep in this kind of weather without a fire. They’d freeze to death. But they’re trying to trick us and make us think that they’re not in there.”

            “I wish I had seen them go in there,” Lou said, shaking his head.

            “Why? You don’t believe I really saw them?”

            “No, I believe you.”

            “Because if you don’t believe me, then you can go look for your own damn family to munch on.”

            “No, I believe you. I believe you!” Lou exclaimed. “I ain’t saying anything against you. I’m just saying.”

            “You ain’t saying nothing,” Jeff said. “So just shut the hell up and stay down. “I tell you there’s a family of four in there, and I plan to fill my belly up with them tonight. When they start a fire, that’s when we make our move and not a second before.”

“But what about the dog?”

“Well, I hadn’t really figured that out yet.”

The truth was, though, Jeff had figured it out, and long ago at that. Lou did have another arm, after all, and he really didn’t need it, especially with Jeff looking out for him. As soon as they caught the people by surprise, Jeff planned to push Lou on the dog and go after the family himself. He hadn’t really gotten a great look at them, but he saw that two of the members were little girls who couldn’t be more than ten years old. He saw the family running through the woods earlier in the day and followed them the best he could, dragging his dead leg quickly across the snow. When they went in the cabin, he saw that they carried light. The father was a slim, bald man with a rifle on his back, but Jeff didn’t see any more weapons with the family; though, they could have always been packing pistols. That’s why surprise was imperative in this situation. Hopefully, they hadn’t seen him following them as he kept close to the trees. And thank Heaven, if such a place even exists (Note: whenever a zombie mentions or even thinks of Heaven or an afterlife, they immediately follow it with—“If such a place even exists.”), Lou hadn’t been with him at the time when Jeff saw them. Lou, as good as he’d been as a companion, wasn’t the best when it came to stealthy matters, as he was loud and bumbling, just like most zombies. He had been down by the river at the time Jeff saw the family, washing his rags. Zombies didn’t like to stink if they didn’t have to, and for all of Lou’s faults, and least he was pretty clean. For a zombie, anyway.

            “Wait, what was that?” Lou asked suddenly, and Jeff heard it, too. It was a rustling noise, but a bit farther off.

            “That wasn’t you, right?” Jeff asked.

            “No, I didn’t move.”

            “Crap,” Jeff whispered.

            It must be other zombies. Jeff hadn’t seen any out here since he came so deep in the woods about a month ago and he didn’t think he would see any zombies, either. Most zombies stayed closer to the cities as the last bit of people hid out in the malls and warehouses, making their stand in wide open spaces with lots of supplies. The forests were especially dangerous because there wasn’t much wildlife left, and thus, not much food available. Only a true survivalist would hide out in the woods, since most of the animals that hadn’t already become extinct, either hibernated or flew to warmer climates in the wintertime. It was a big gamble to stake out a forest, especially in the winter, but Jeff had taken that bet, and it looked like he was finally going to be rewarded as no zombies hid out in a forest.

            So who the Hell—if such a place even exists—were these jerks?  

            Jeff stood up and saw seven zombies shambling toward him.

            “Just great,” he said.

            “I knew we should have gone in sooner,” Lou whined. “Now we’re going to have to share with them.”

            Zombies have no use for money. They deal in human flesh instead. That said, zombies aren’t Capitalists in the flesh department. On the contrary, zombies are more like Communists, as they get an equal share of human flesh when they find it. It’s probably the reason that zombies are almost extinct in the first place. It’s rare that a zombie would travel by oneself or in low numbers like Lou and Jeff did, as humans had no problem wasting zombies in low quantities. A zombie’s strength is in numbers. So it would only make sense that the undead would share with the horde for that sense of protection. But this is the biggest problem with zombie-kind and why they’re all dying off, as they don’t starve as one, they starve as a group. So if one starves, then they all starve, which was what was going on with zombie-kind from continent to continent.  

            It’s too bad that animals were now so hard to come by, as animals weren’t half bad. Especially deer. Venison was awesome.

            It also sucked that zombie skin was so nasty and rough, because they’d have an unlimited source of protein if they only ate each other.

            “Hello,” the lead zombie said. His ribcage was fully exposed as he wore no shirt, even in this cold weather. The undead behind him were just as malnourished. Some of them were even children. Jeff didn’t know that children even existed anymore. But then he remembered the two young girls inside the cabin. Yes, they too would become zombies if he didn’t eat them whole, which he intended to.

            “Hi,” Jeff muttered to the lead zombie, extending his hand.

            “We saw them first!” Lou exclaimed.

            “Lou!” Jeff shouted.

            “It’s alright,” the head zombie wheezed. He sounded a million years old if not older. “We’ve been watching you for quite some time and just wanted to know when you planned to make your move.

“Soon,” Jeff said.

The lead zombie looked at Lou since he scowled so openly.

“Why are you so angry, young man?”

            “Because I’m starving!” Lou said. “Why do you think?”

            “Lou!” Jeff barked again. God—if such a deity should exist—Lou could be such a child sometimes.

            “Hey,” another one of the seven zombies said. “What do you think this is, huh? We’re all starvin’ here. You can’t just have them for yourselves, ya know.”

            “There’s no need to be upset,” the lead zombie said. “So let’s not raise our voices or cause a scuffle. Even if there is only one person in there, we still share, you know that. That’s the zombie creed after all: ‘One for you, one for me, one for every zombie!’” He laughed and began to cough. A young woman with no breasts and clear, white eyes rubbed his back.

            In truth, Jeff was just as peeved as Lou, but he held his corroded tongue. Even though zombies didn’t eat each other, it didn’t mean that they didn’t fight each other. They were once human, after all. And Jeff liked keeping his limbs.

            “So, what do you know about the occupants inside?” the lead zombie asked. “My name is Jeremy, by the way, and these are my friends. We’ve come from the city.”

            “Hi, Jeremy,” Jeff grumbled. “There are four humans inside.”

            He neglected to mention the dog.

            “I see, and what’s our plan of attack?” Jeremy asked. 

            “What do you mean, what’s our plan of attack?” the hot-headed zombie from before asked. “We rush them and eat them like we always do. There’s nine of us and four of them. The odds are in our favor.”

            “No,” Jeremy said. “This one, what’s your name?” he asked Jeff.

            “Todd,” Jeff lied.

            “Todd here is in charge of this mission. He found the people first, after all. What do you think we should do about these people, Todd?”

            “I think we should wait until they light a fire,” Jeff said, who was gaining more confidence the more he thought out this plan. It was true that more zombies meant less food for him and Lou, but it also meant that they didn’t have to contend with the dog and Lou could keep his remaining arm. They just had to find a way to ditch these dweebs when this was all over.

            “You want to wait until they light a fire?” Jeremy asked with fear in his jaundiced eyes. Along with a good sharp object to the skull, fire was a zombie’s worst enemy.

            “I’m thinking that’s when—”

            But then, it all happened in a flash. A low, dark shadow, rushed through the night from the cabin. A second later, a zombie fell backward as a dog bit into his arm. The dog didn’t even bark when it attacked. What kind of dog was this?

            “Move, move, move!” The skinny man Jeff saw earlier with the rifle, said, and he rushed out the door. He aimed his rifle and fired.

            POW! The gun popped.

            Just like that, the hot-headed zombie had black blood spurting from his head. He went down like lead.

            “Take your positions,” the man said, and the wife and their two little girls rushed out and stood side by side. The father fired again with the rifle and the other three shot pistols.

            They weren’t leaving the cabin. They were defending it!

            Of course, this had been their plan all along. Round up as many starving zombies as possible and then shoot them like ducks in a barrel.

            All Jeff heard was the zombie screaming on the ground as the dog tore away at his arm and whipped it back and forth. The zombie’s rasping call for help droned on and on as he died from fear and blood loss.

            “Somebody kill that damn dog!” Jeff screamed.

            But the other zombies already retreated, staggering backward as the family of four continued to shoot at them.

            “Die, you undead scum!” the father yelled over his rifle blast.

POW!

The daughter next to him, who was about at his hip, screamed it, too, as she shot from her revolver.

            “Die, you undead scum!”

            Two more of the zombies went down, including Jeremy, and the blood spilled from their skeletal chests like lava.

            “We got to get out of here!” Lou screamed, and Jeff seconded that notion.

            As soon as they retreated, the dog was off the other zombie and right on top of Lou.

            It tore into his backside and ripped his spine right out with its teeth. Lou cried as loud as he could, but died almost instantly.

            Jeff began to stagger away, but a bullet shot through the back of his shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground.

            How had everything gone awry so quickly?

            “I got him, daddy!” Jeff heard in the distance from the ground. “I got him!”

Great. Shot down by a ten year old girl.

            “Excellent shot, pumpkin,” the father said. “But next time, aim more for the head.”

            “I will, daddy,” she said proudly.

            “Help,” Jeff moaned, but the other zombies were either dead or had already deserted him. He dragged his way on the ground, and the dog growled at him. It crept closer and closer.

            “Down, Kujo!” the man called, and just like that, the black dog sat.

            The father walked over to Jeff and when he got to him, he pointed his rifle right down in his face.

            “We’re taking this world back from you undead scum,” the father said. “To hell with your dumbass, zombie flag.”

            The last thing Jeff saw was the blast of the rifle.

            Whatever he saw after that, only God— if such a deity should exist —knows for sure.

END

Love the Land, Or Leave It (Short Story)

(Image taken from: en.wikipedia.org)

Daniel Cornshire could tell the moment Jo-Jo walked through the door that he didn’t settle things with the sheriff.

He knew because his brother’s thick lips wouldn’t stop trembling, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.  He even had a soiled spot on his trousers, right by the pistol he had holstered on his hip. This was not the kind of task for one as feeble-minded as Jo-Jo, but what choice did Daniel have?

“Well, what happened?” Daniel asked.

 “He didn’t ta-ta-take the money, Danny. He knew.”

“What do you mean he knew?” Daniel asked, but he understood exactly what his brother meant. It was the reason why he didn’t deliver the money to Sheriff Heavensby himself. It was dirty money, stolen from one of the banks under Heavenby’s protection.

Sheriff Heavensby, who had taken control of Daniel’s late father’s ranch, would of course have caught wind that one of his tenants was a wanted man; especially when that same man was already an enemy of the Heavensby family.

 “You ain’t mad, are you Danny?” Jo-Jo asked.

“Naw, I ain’t mad.”

But Daniel Cornshire was mad. He had been hiding out in an abandoned shack just south of town since the robbery, and he felt closed in. Things would have been so much easier if the Heavensby’s were simply wiped off the face of the planet.

It would also be easier if the brothers didn’t have to worry about the land. Their recently deceased father, Samuel Cornshire, made the brothers promise that Sheriff Heavensby would never take the ranch. It was a family feud that spanned back to their great-great grandfather, Artemis Cornshire and his rival, Reginald Heavensby. The two men, the story goes, were once friends who settled the territory, bringing in hundreds of western bound souls. An expanse of land divided almost equally amongst the founding families began to change as more money started to pour in.  Acre by acre, Cornshire land was lost to the Heavensby’s. 

It started with simple quarrels over a moved fence post, but the feud drew more sinister with forged documents and backroom deals, forcing the Cornshires to yield more and more property. Over the years, the Heavensby’s swallowed up the land, becoming part of the local elite, while the Cornshire’s lost almost everything they owned. It got to the point that the town itself was now called Heavensby.

But the Cornshire’s, while not as educated and sliver-tongued as the Heavensby’s, were a proud and resilient bunch. Unable to even the odds in court, the Cornshires resorted to brawling, burning crops, and poisoning livestock. The bitter back and forth among the families escalated over the generations into mutual bloodshed.  Years of hostilities left both sides depleted, specifically with the sheriff being the last in the line of Heavensby men. Being the smart one, he made sure that if he was going to be the last to bare the Heavensby name (his attempts at having children with his wife had been fruitless), then he was going to make the last of the Cornshire’s as miserable as possible for killing off his kin.

The last thing the Cornshire’s owned after Sheriff Heavensby seized everything else from them was a modest ranch at the outskirts of town, and before he died, Samuel Cornshire would be damned if Sheriff Heavensby got that, too. In years past, the Heavensby’s wanted the property to connect towns. However, Samuel, who never indulged in any of the killing, refused to sell his ranch and what remained of his family’s land. 

The sheriff’s influence over the town and managing to secure the water rights to the land forced the Cornshire’s to pay him for use of the water or allow the land and livestock to die. Samuel fought feverishly to prevent the sheriff from taking the land until the mayor, who had ancestral ties to the Cornshire’s, said that the area was off limits as long as the Cornshire’s could afford it.

But once pa died, Daniel wanted to leave. After both his mother and wife died from stray gunshot wounds down at the market, he wanted to head out east. There was nothing left for the Cornshire’s in the town of Heavensby.

Daniel’s brother, Jo-Jo, wouldn’t have it.

In fact, Jo-Jo lived his whole life by their father’s last words: “They can never have this land. The Heavensby’s can rot in hell.” Daniel couldn’t leave his brother behind. He worried if he was capable of taking care of himself, much less take care of the ranch, and besides, he was the last bit of family he had left.

            “Please don’t lu-lu-lu-look at me like that, Danny,” Jo-Jo said. “It’s not my fault. I tried to give him the money. Honest, I did.”

            “So why didn’t you just shoot him then?” Daniel asked, palming the weathered grips of his uncle’s old revolver. He hadn’t worn a piece before his recent bank robbery, but now that he had one, he refused to take it off. 

            “But Danny. I couldn’t do that. You know I c-c-c-c-c-c—”

            Daniel put up his hand. He knew that when Jo-Jo got this nervous and couldn’t stop stuttering, he wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence.

            “Well, what are we gonna do now then, Jo-Jo?”

            Jo-Jo nervously raised his eyes from the floor, fumbling with his holster until he retrieved his gun.   Trembling and sweating now, it was obvious that Jo-Jo never drew his weapon before, much less shot a man, but it was in his hands now pointed directly at Daniel.

            “Hey, what’s the big idea?” Daniel asked.

            “Mr. Heavensby said if I t-t-t-t-took you in, he’d let us keep the ranch. He said your bounty would be enough for the property’s deed.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            Behind Jo-Jo, the door slowly creaked open, and there stood the sheriff, brandishing a loaded shotgun in the doorway.

            “Now that’s a good imbecile,” Mr. Heavensby drawled beneath his thick, blond mustache. “You’re a wanted man, Danny. Your brother did the right thing.” He looked around. “Kind of far away from the ranch, aren’t we?”

            Daniel didn’t say a word.

            “I’m sa-sa-sa-sorry, Danny.”

            “You’d betray me, your own flesh and blood, to keep that dump?”

            “Now don’t yell at the boy,” Heavensby said with a smile. “He’s doing what’s best for both the ranch, and this county. We can’t have a criminal running around freely. Now if I were you, I’d put my hands up away from that pistol you got hidden underneath the table and come along peaceably.”

            Daniel didn’t move.

            “Boy, you do know that you’re a wanted man, don’t you? I can shoot you right here where I stand if you don’t come along with me. It would all be legal, not like a Cornshire would understand the concept. Is that what you want?” He took a step forward, “Because I can deliver ya to your pa if you’re itching for it. That ain’t a problem, and I have the protection of the law.”

            That step forward was his last. It was too late when he felt the cold steel of a .45 pressed against the base of his skull, courtesy of Joseph “Jo-Jo” Cornshire—the one everyone always called, “The slow boy.”

            With a short pull of a trigger, Sheriff Heavensby fell forward and landed on the table, face down.

            “Was that good, Danny?” Jo-Jo asked, the smoke still curling from his gun.

            “Yeah, Jo-Jo. Damn good! Pa would have been so proud of you. You really followed the plans to the letter.”

            “Are we ga-ga-ga-going to lose the ranch now, Danny?”

            “Probably. But not to any of the Heavensby men, which is what dad cared about the most, so stop feeling guilty. He was the last in the line and he didn’t have any kin. But we’re still going to have to take a train out of here when wind catches that the Sheriff ‘s missing.”

            Jo-Jo sighed.

            “Is Sheriff Heavensby at least going to hell, Danny? Was it ra-ra-ra-really worth losing the ranch?”

            “Hell yeah, he is, Jo-Jo, and damn right it was worth losing the ranch. At least we’re still alive and the Heavensby’s are all wiped out. Now c’mon, we have to hide the bastard. You’re sure you brought him here alone? He didn’t bring his posse?”

            “No,” Jo-Jo said, staring at the body. “He sa-sa-said he’d let me keep the ranch if we came alone. He wanted to surprise you and take you in hisself.”

            Daniel Cornshire shook his head.

            “You mean take my dead body in.”

            A distant howl of a steam whistle echoed through the dust-coated window panes behind Daniel’s head.  His eyes briefly glanced behind his left shoulder, acknowledging the familiar sound.

            “Well, come on. We gotta get things moving.”

            The ranch was important to Jo-Jo, but so were pa’s—and every other Conrshire’s—last, dying words.

            The Heavensby’s can rot in hell.

               

The Visitor

(Image taken from: cutcaster.com)

“Nghh, ughh. Mm.”

“Honey?”

Joe cracked the bathroom door as he sat on the toilet. He saw his girlfriend squirming beneath the covers.

“Charlie horse again, babe?”

She shifted and then clapped her hand to her forehead.

“Mm…”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Honey?”

“It’s just… Harold again.”

She drifted back to sleep, making pained, guttural noises from the other room.

Joe closed the door and stared blankly at the wall.

Jesus. Not again.

He hit the roll of toilet paper angrily. He wrapped it around his hand and wiped his ass.

Joe and Gladys had been going out for 9 years now. In a few days, he planned on proposing to her (And not chicken out this time). But now, this had to happen? Oh, God. Their relationship had been mostly good with a few break-ups along the way.  But they always found one another back in each other’s arms, hoping they didn’t sleep around too much in the interim while they were apart.

But the one thing that was consistent in all the years Joe knew Gladys was that she was haunted in her dreams by a man named Harold.

By her description of him, he was a tall, black man plagued with pockmarks around his nose. She couldn’t remember ever meeting him in real life. He had sunken in cheeks and greasy black hair, parted to the side. And his eyes were yellow with jaundice. But the part that scared Joe the most about him was his tongue. Whenever Harold talked—and Gladys said his voice was high and garbled like a chicken’s—a red centipede would wiggle between his lips.

Joe was tired of this crap. He thought it was over. But now, here it was again showing its ugly, pockmarked face.

The doctor said the frequent pain in her legs was merely a Charlie horse since she was always on her feet all day at the hospital. But Gladys believed otherwise, as it was the same pain she remembered having as a child. It was a stiff, cold feeling, “Like icy fingers pushing out from the inside.”

Joe shook his head. He cracked open the door again and saw Gladys still squirming beneath the covers. She was like a snake in the grass. He wanted to wake her but he wouldn’t dare try that again.  Not after the last time he did that. He still had the scar on his wrist as a reminder.

Two years ago, after some pleading, he finally convinced her to go to a psychiatrist. His name was Dr. Naviello. But that didn’t last long. After she went to a few sessions, she had to stop. Her dreams with Harold were getting ridiculous. She was having them almost every night.

But ever since she stopped seeing Dr. Naviello, Harold had vanished.

It was a miracle. The longest she had ever gone without him. It—

“Guuuuuuh. AHHHH!”

“Gladys?”

Joe pulled up his pants and threw open the door in time to see Gladys rip the covers from her legs.

“What’s wrong?”

He ran to her but stopped and backed away.

“Gladys?”

Even in the slim light, he saw that her eyes were piss yellow. She screamed.

Joe watched her shaking foot and saw her middle toe flip down freakishly as if it were broken. He nearly vomited. A crevice went from her cracked toe to her knee. And then, in one sick motion, her leg split apart like a giant mouth. Joe ran back into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.

 Gladys screamed. Joe covered his ears.

“Oh, my God!” She shouted, “Oh, my God! Joeeeey!”

The bed posts banged against the wall in the other room and Joe stared at the door. He pawed the sink and stumbled across the small space. He slumped into the bathtub.

There was a tearing noise, like ripping paper and then, footsteps.

They were loud and heavy and they came to the foot of the bathroom door. Joe held his breath. He stared through the crazy shapes made by the shower’s glass door and waited until he couldn’t take it anymore. But when he stood up, the footsteps began to walk away down the stairs. He closed his eyes and heard the front door slam. He let out a sigh of relief but also cried.

He let her die.

And Harold was real.

He stood back up and crept out of the bath tub. He cracked open the door and on the other side was a single, jaundiced eye, staring back at him.

Joe tried to close the door, but it swung open. Joe screamed, and the tall, black man with the pockmarks screamed with him. With Harold’s mouth wide open, his tongue, a long, red centipede, leapt out of his face and flew into Joe’s mouth. He felt it scrambling around his tongue. It clawed at his teeth and stung his gums. He couldn’t breathe as he fell backward into the glass shower door and banged his head. The last thing he heard was the sound of Harold coughing.

***

I’m tired. So, so tired.

I hope that poor girl’s alright. The last time I saw her alive she was only a babe. Her father was so nice to me. I worked for him for over 14 years, driving him around the city. He was a good man. Everybody cried at his funeral. And he loved that girl of his. He used to show me pictures of her sometimes. She had such beautiful hair. It was blond.

Damn.

The afterlife is cold and endless. The stars are close here and they sparkle like diamonds. I wonder if they’re angels. They gotta be something. They can’t just be stars. I won’t allow myself to believe they’re just stars. Not after being stuck in that poor girl’s body for all those years. That damn centipede.  It jumped in my mouth and followed me into the afterlife. It brought me to the girl. I don’t know why or how, but it did, and it wouldn’t let me leave. Not until it was ready. And it wasn’t ready for years.

But you want to know the strangest thing about all of this? I actually miss him. I’m happy that I’m free of him, as you didn’t feel like yourself with him in you, but at least he provided me with company.

Now, I’m all alone.

And I can’t get that boy’s eyes out of my head. He looked like he saw a ghost. And I guess that’s what I was to him.

A ghost.

I sure as hell wasn’t a man anymore. Hadn’t been a man in years. Decades, even. Who knows how long?

God, it’s cold out here. I thought it would be warmer. It was a hell of lot warmer in that poor girl’s legs. But it was tighter, too. I couldn’t breathe. Not ever. It was hell.

All the same, I sure hope she’s okay.

I didn’t mean to hurt her.

It was that damned centipede. I wonder where he is now.

I kind of miss him.

***

Gladys lay in a hospital bed. Her lower body was beneath covers.

She shifted and groaned. A heart monitor beeped by her bed. She didn’t know where she was.

As her eyes fluttered open, the area spread apart  in front of her like fog drifting. Behind her right eye, she saw what looked like a man looking at her. He felt like Harold but he looked like Joe. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching her.

“Good morning,” a woman said. Gladys wiped her face.

“What happened?”

The nurse offered a small, feigned smile and walked by her bedside.

“You had an accident….with your legs. How are you feeling?”

Gladys shifted and squirmed. Her back itched and her legs were numb. But…she felt different for some reason. Like she just threw up and was completely empty. It was a refreshing feeling, invigorating.

“I feel dizzy,” Gladys said.

“That’s normal. Are you in pain?”

“Yes. My legs.”

The nurse chewed her lower lip.

“Well, there’s a morphine button by your bedside.”

Gladys padded around until she found it and tapped it a few times.

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Give it time. You will. I’ll be back within the hour to turn you over. I’m going to need assistance.”

Gladys nodded and blinked. The warm embrace of sleep returned to her. She lay her head against the pillow and saw Joe again. He had his head down and looked sad. He opened his mouth and the centipede wiggled between his lips, just as it had with Harold.

Just as it had with Harold.

And that was the last she ever saw of the centipede. It was the last she ever saw of Joe, too.

For the remainder of that day, she slept. 

And she didn’t have any more dreams.