Mail Order Massacres. Hunter Shea

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      While Patrick locked the door, David shut the windows and flipped the latches. It was going to get very hot, very fast.

      They lifted the blinds and watched the creature feast on their friend. Jimmy’s body shook as it wrested a hunk of meat from his exposed back.

      “What is that thing?” Patrick said.

      As it ate, it seemed to grow even bigger, the body filling out more, its lashing tail getting thicker, longer.

      “You should get your camera,” David said.

      “Why?”

      “So we have proof.”

      “They’re everywhere! Their bodies are the proof.”

      “I just want to be able to get a closer look,” David said. Something gnawed at the back of his brain.

      Patrick reluctantly got his Polaroid. It was one of the good ones, with a tele-zoom lens. David quietly opened the window, then the screen. He leaned out as far as he could without falling. Every inch he could get closer was valuable.

      His finger found the button for the tele-zoom lens. Suddenly, he could see the monster as clear as day. He snapped off a shot. Waited for the print to stream out, then took another, and another, handing them back to Patrick until the film pack was empty.

      When he was done, he shut the window tight.

      Patrick had the pictures laid out on the living room table. There were eight grisly shots in all.

      As much as it repulsed him to look, David studied every photo, the last couple still developing.

      He ran his hand over the stubble on his head and said, “Oh man, I think I know what they are!”

      Chapter Ten

      “Is it gone?” David asked.

      Patrick stood vigil by the window. He kept the blinds closed, cracking two slats just enough to spy between them.

      “Yeah. It took off when there was nothing left of Jimmy or his father.”

      “Let me see.”

      Patrick stepped back so David could take a look. He saw that all there was left was a red stain on the ground. Even their clothes had been eaten.

      David looked like he was going to be sick. “We have to get to my house.”

      “I kind of want to be here when my mother comes home.”

      “Bozak, you know word has gotten out about what happened on Virginia Avenue. The state police probably have all the roads to this area blocked off. If she went shopping at the mall, there’s no way they’re letting her back here.”

      Patrick hoped he was right. That was a far better thing to consider than the alternative. He just knew his father wasn’t all right. He couldn’t have gone down there in the thick of things without getting hurt or worse.

      He’d been trying hard not to cry this whole time, but a tear still leaked out from his right eye.

      “What’s so important that we have to go to your house?” Patrick asked.

      “I have to check something. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

      “After what we just saw, nothing’s crazy.”

      “Plus, my house has fewer windows and doors. It’s way more secure.”

      Ever since they had seen Dawn of the Dead, they pictured ways to fortify every home, store and building from zombies. These things weren’t zombies, but it was even more important to be in as safe a place as possible.

      “I’m not going out there without a weapon,” Patrick said.

      “Your dad have a gun?”

      “Not that I know of.”

      “Then we’ll just have to improvise.”

      David dashed into the basement, advising Patrick to gather all of his baseball bats. They met back in the kitchen.

      “Grab everything sharp,” David ordered, going for the knife rack. The big carving knife sang when he removed it. Once the floor was filled with knives and cooking forks and baseball bats, David took a roll of duct tape from his waistband. “Let’s turn these bats into monster bashers!”

      For the next ten minutes, the heavy ripping of duct tape filled the air. The boys taped the utensils, pointed ends facing outward, all along the bats. When they were done, they had four makeshift maces.

      “Those things have pretty big heads,” Patrick said. “It’ll be hard to miss with these.”

      David swung one of the bats, spearing a loaf of bread on the table. The bag exploded with a loud pop.

      “I don’t think they’ll be so hungry when they get brained. You ready?”

      If Patrick could have his way, he’d never leave the house. Armed guards would have to assure him that everything was restored to normal before he stepped foot outside.

      But David had always been the leader of their small pack, and Patrick didn’t want to look like a wuss. He was also curious to see what was making him risk their lives.

      “I’m not locking my door,” Patrick said. “Just in case we have to run back in here.”

      “Smart idea. Okay, on three. One, two, three!”

      Patrick opened the door while Dave stepped outside, both bats held before him. If anything had been lying in wait, it would have impaled itself on the knives taped to the end of the bats.

      The coast was clear.

      The block was eerily silent. There wasn’t even a lick of wind.

      “Go, go, go,” David barked. They ran across the street as if their asses were on fire and the only bucket of water was fifty feet away. They hopped the gate, afraid to undo the metal latch and alert one of those creatures to their presence.

      Patrick saw a line of gray muck, like the world’s biggest snail trail, snaking past David’s house. He prayed that whatever made it was long gone, unlike the cloying stench coming off the trail like waves of heat.

      David led the way. They crept along the side of the house, entering the back door that was kept unlocked during the day. Once inside, they dropped the bats, panting.

      “See,” David said. “That was easy.”

      Patrick just shook his head, wondering if he was too young to have a stroke. “All right, we’re here. Now what?”

      “Downstairs.”

      They clomped down to the still-empty downstairs apartment. David went straight to the garbage can, upending it so the few contents spilled all over the floor.

      “It’s СКАЧАТЬ