Consumption (19 page)

“Erma! Jesus, are you okay? Are you shot?”

John's voice, a welcome spike of sanity, drove apart Erma's thoughts. She spun, and he was there.

“No.” She reached out to touch his arm, wanting to know if it was real, and as she did so, she saw the flecks of blood on her skin, glistening like ripe berries where they were caught in the hair of her arm. She felt her body trembling, felt herself beginning to collapse, but then John stepped forward.

He wrapped his arms around her, and as she fell into him, she found her voice again. “I'm okay.” She looked down at Sam's body, crumpled at her feet, his head a spray of meat and blood on the pavement. A yard away sat the truck, its motor now silent, the hunched figure of a man in the driver's seat.

“We've got to go,” said John.
“Now.”

Behind them, the church doors had begun to pulse, and now they burst open. A crowd of people streamed out like blood from a cut.

The people in front seemed to be trying to get away, and at first Erma could not wrap her brain around what was happening. What were they trying to escape
from
?

Screams filled the air.

“What's happening?” Her voice quavered.

“There's a man loose, a killer—I saw him in Bunny's garage.
Christ,
we have to get out of here.”

People continued to pour out of the church and onto the street as Erma struggled to process John's words.

He'd said something about a killer, and yes, that sounded right, because she'd just seen Sam shot, but what was happening now? Wasn't the killer in the truck? Why was everyone screaming?

On the sidewalk in front of her, an elderly woman stumbled from the church and then fell down. Erma almost moved to help her, except at that moment, the woman looked around, and Erma stopped. The woman grinned at her. Beneath her was a man, his eyes now staring vacantly at nothing, the back of his skull bleeding, crushed into the cement.

“What is going
on
?” Bunny asked, echoing Erma's sentiment.

Was that old woman on the ground the killer, then? But it didn't seem possible. And no, other people were struggling underneath various assailants. Only a few feet on the street in front of Erma, a teenaged girl in orange-sequined tights and a tutu held down a little boy. The boy screamed and flailed his arms and the girl…But here Erma could hardly believe her eyes. The girl had her hand in her mouth, and bit down, removing it and spitting what appeared to be her own thumb into her palm. Then the girl shoved the thumb into the screaming boy's mouth and clamped his jaws shut, rubbing his throat like you did to a dog to get it to swallow a pill.

“John?” Erma whimpered. Her husband's arms had gone momentarily slack around her. The crowd surged forward, and now they were being noticed, Erma and John and Bunny and Izzy and Riley and Sharon. Two men who were wearing what looked to be old-timey horse-riding outfits looked up
simultaneously,
as if catching a scent. They lifted their noses to the air and crouched low into a strained posture, their leg muscles rippling against their tight white pants. As one, they began to lope, and then to run, toward Erma and her group.

“Oh my God!” Sharon shrieked. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!” In her lap, she cradled Sam's half head.

“Get in! For God's sake, be quick about it!” The truck's door flew open, and the man who'd shot Sam motioned them in.

John lifted Erma and before she could protest, threw her into the cab, crawling in behind her.

A loud bark and the wet lick of a tongue greeted Erma, and she turned, surprised to see her dog beside her on the seat.

“Maxie!” The dog flapped her tail happily. In the rearview mirror, Erma could see Riley lowering the truck's tailgate and pushing his daughter onto it. Bunny, too, scrambled up, lifting her skirt and hoisting herself to the back of the cab. Riley did not get in, and Erma turned fully around in the cab of the truck, watching out the back window, yelling at him, pounding at the glass to tell him to get in!
Get in right now!

He didn't obey. Erma felt John's arms trying to pull her back around, to comfort her, but she batted him away and watched as Riley turned to help his ex-wife, who stood only a few feet away from him, amidst the chaos in the street, but just as he held his hand out to Sharon, the two men in riding costumes reached her.

They yanked Sharon down, falling as one upon her, and Erma saw the woman's dirty-blond head bob up and then disappear between them.

The truck jerked to life. Riley pulled himself up into the bed of the truck and grabbed Izzy as the vehicle picked up speed, roaring away from the massacre outside of the church and back toward the empty Festival tents.

Then John was holding her, holding her while beside them the man who'd shot Sam drove on.

He was an old man, eighty or so, with white hair and a grim look on his face. But when he turned to her, Erma saw that he had beautiful eyes.

“You all ain't the fastest boarders I coulda hoped for,” he said.

Behind her, Erma felt her husband's arm as it snaked around her shoulders along the truck's seat and clasped the man's shoulder.

“Thank you,” John said, and he sounded close to weeping. “You saved our lives just now.”

“Who are you?” Erma asked.

“Keep your pants on, the both of you,” said the old man. “We can do the introductions later, and as far as your life”—he swung the truck's wheel sharply to the left and they careened around a large sinkhole in the road.—“before this day's out I'm pretty certain you'll have the chance to repay me.” He reached over and scratched Maxie's head, and the dog thumped her tail even harder, the white fluff of it hitting Erma's thigh.

“If we're not dead, that is,” the man said, as if an afterthought. “I think that's probably the more likely scenario.”

Erma closed her eyes and thought, for no reason at all, of the pregnancy stick that she'd hidden, once upon a time, in their bathroom trashcan. Eventually, she'd pulled it out, digging through the layers of Kleenex and empty toilet paper rolls to extract the test and lay it gently on the bathroom sink.

As if such an action could be undone.

As if such a simple gesture as resurrecting something could ever really allow anyone to begin again.

The man who said his name was Pill pulled the truck to a stop at the end of Main Street. Other than a single gray cat, mangy with fleas and looking like he'd been out on the road a long time, the group hadn't seen any other sign of life. The entire town beyond the church was quiet.

“Why are you stopping?” asked John. He was damn glad that the old man had come for them—damn glad—but he didn't entirely trust him. He didn't guess he trusted anybody anymore, after what he'd seen.

In the back of the truck, Riley, Bunny, and the little girl shifted uncomfortably, waiting for news of their next move. John realized the girl was the same one from the sidewalk earlier. The poor thing had, in graphic detail, just watched her mother be eaten.

“I stopped because there are a few things that I need to explain to you.”

“Such as?”

“Such as what the hell is going on here.”

John saw that Pill's hand, the same hand that had been so steady on the gun trigger earlier, steady enough to shoot that blond cop right through the head, was trembling. Maxie must have sensed his unease, too, because she scooted closer to the man and licked his cheek.

“Sorry,” said Erma. “She does that sometimes.”

“Don't be sorry,” said Pill. “This little mutt saved your life.”

“Maxie? How?”

“I'll explain later,” he said, rubbing behind Maxie's ears. “Right now I need to figure out where to take us so we can talk.”

There was a rap on the back window, and John spun around to see Riley. The cop raised both of his hands palms up in a “What are we doing?” gesture. He had the little girl pressed tightly to him.

I don't know,
John mouthed to him. Beside him, he could feel Erma's warmth, and the fact that through all the terror he'd seen today she was still beside him amazed him.

“I'll tell you what,” John said. “How about we skip the explanations. You go on and drive us to Bunny's house. You can have your meeting with the other two there. If they want to meet. Erma and I, we're getting out of here.” He put his hand on Erma's leg and squeezed.

“I couldn't agree more,” she said.

“It isn't going to work like that,” Pill said, starting up the truck's engine again. “I wish for you all's sake that it would, but it just isn't.”

“What do you mean?” asked Erma.

As if in answer, a thin wail arose from the evening sky. John turned to Riley's rapping on the glass between them again, this time more rapidly. He had his hand in a fist with only the pointer finger sticking out, and was rolling it over in a “Let's get going” motion.

“I'll direct you to Bunny's,” said John. “That's the least I can do.”

“That'll work for a start,” said Pill, starting the truck forward on the street again. “Only we can't stay there long. They'll figure out where we are.” John made a motion for Pill to turn left, and the man obliged, using his turn signal despite the lack of any other traffic.

“I'm not planning on staying long,” said John. “Like I said. I want to get my wife and me the hell out of here.”

“I understand, boy,” said Pill. “I hope you'll hear me out first, though.”

John didn't answer this. They were leaving. Him and Erma. Together. He'd let his wife down too many times, and this wasn't going to be another one of them.

“It's the second house on the right up here,” John said, pointing to a driveway. “And you're going to want to bring that gun of yours. One of those crazies, he was out there in the garage. Maxie had him cornered in there when I came to get her. I thought he was the only one, but I guess this whole place is pretty much crazy now.”

Pill scratched Maxie's head again, the dog thumping her tail with pleasure. “Good girl,” he told her. “They don't like the dogs. It's lucky you have Maxie with you.”

“Sure,” said John. Jesus, but maybe the old man was crazy, too. What was happening in this town? Had he really just seen what he'd thought he'd seen? Had he seen people…
eating
one another? Had he seen those bodies back in the garage? It seemed so unreal.

The howling that had begun earlier grew louder. It didn't sound like any animal, it sounded like humans. Lots of humans. That seemed about right, John thought, judging by the people he'd seen coming out of the church. Those had looked like they could howl.

Pill arrived at Bunny's driveway, gave it a look, and then sped past it.

“Hey!” John leaned over Erma toward Pill. “You passed it. You're going the wrong way!”

“I got to show you something first. You think you can just waltz out of this town. You can't.”

“The hell we can't,” said John. “I want you to turn this truck around right now.
Right now!
” He also wanted to hit the man, but Erma's hand on his arm stopped him. Best to humor him now, maybe, but as soon as the truck stopped, he was getting them out of here.

Pill drove on, the houses of Cavus speeding by, growing sparse as they neared the edge of town. To their left, a shadow loped beside their car and then disappeared into the bushes.

John thought it had been a dog. No, correction, he
hoped
it had been a dog.

“Maybe you should just let us out here,” said Erma, making her voice low like she sometimes used to do with the women at the shelter. “We'll walk…. ”

Pill slammed his foot on the brake, sending the back end of the truck into a skid.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Pill's truck was stopped at the last street of Cavus, the one leading out toward the highway. The only street out of town. It was poor planning on the town's part, but then, the town had never exactly had a rush in or out of it.

On the road stood two men. Both completely naked. They looked at the truck and began, slowly, to walk toward it. One of the men had what looked to be an erect second penis sprouting from his stomach. Both had scratches up and down their bodies, flesh torn open at various points, and some of these dripped blood. There was other blood on them, too. Blood not from the scratches.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said John.

The men dropped as one to all fours and began to sprint. Riley knocked furiously on the back window. With John's window open now, it was easy to hear him.

“Pill! Hey! What the hell you doing? Get us out of here!” Beside him, Bunny screamed.

The men on the road loped closer and Pill didn't move the car. From the back of the truck, a shot sounded, and one of the naked men fell to the ground, twitching. The second one arrived at the truck and began to climb over it. Another shot, and John, turned fully around in his seat, saw Riley put a bullet through this second man's head just as he reached over the back of the truck, slobbering. Beside John, Erma screamed, twisted around to watch out the back window.

“Ain't no trace of human left in 'em,” said Pill. “Those two, they must have been turned for a while now.”

From the sides of the dust-covered road that led out of town, two more figures emerged, these two dressed in perfectly normal clothes, the one on the right in a blue dress and the one on the left with her graying red hair in a braid. The braided woman lifted her hand to wave. She, so it seemed, had just taken a bite of something. Something red. Her whole mouth was covered in it.

“What the fuck?” breathed Erma. “Do they need help? I mean, what are they doing?”

“They're Feeders,” Pill said. “Like the other two. I just wanted to show you. In case you thought about leaving town this a way. They aren't gonna let you go. Not easy-like.”

“We could run them over,” Erma said, and John squeezed her leg again, trying to ease the desperation he heard in her voice.

“Take a look down that back road,” Pill said.

They did, John and Erma both leaning out the truck's window, Erma pressing her entire body against him. At first, John saw nothing, but then Erma reached over him to point to two large shadows farther down the road.

“There,” she whispered.

John squinted, and then saw them. The dark shapes were about a quarter of a mile behind the two women on the road and looked to be two large trucks, both overturned. They had blocked the road. John pulled his head back in the window and held Erma against him. To her credit, she didn't cry. She didn't, in fact, make a sound, even as Pill restarted the engine.

Pill turned the truck around and began to drive back into Cavus, through the empty streets.

“What are they doing?” John asked, turning to watch the figures behind them, who had stopped in the middle of the road, arms crossed.

“They're waiting,” said Pill. “They aim to kill everyone in Cavus. Kill them or turn them. They haven't ever been able to do it before now…the Keepers stopped them.”

“Who are the Keepers?” asked Erma.

Pill turned onto a new street, taking a deep breath. “Why, I guess they're us now, sweetheart. Us or nobody.”

Star opened her eyes. Thirty minutes had passed.

She'd crouched there, listening to the loud banging on the bathroom door, remained still even as the banging was followed by a shriek and then, worse, silence.

Now the screams outside continued, but they seemed to have moved farther away.

She felt calmer, though no less afraid.

Carefully, Star let herself out of the stall, inching toward the bathroom door. She slid the trashcan she'd shoved in front of it away. Star reached up and placed her hand on the large metal lock. And hesitated. They could still be out there. They could be hiding. Waiting on the other side of the door.

It didn't matter. To stay in here was death. Eventually they'd find her, whatever they were. They would find her here and kill her. Or worse. She thought of Mabel. They'd gotten to her somehow. Ruined her.

Star flipped the lock and cracked the door open. In the distance, a popping sounded. Someone firing a pistol. There was another shot and then a scream.

Star opened the door a little farther. The hallway in front of her was empty, the beige and white tiles gleaming, freshly scrubbed for the party. Thirty feet ahead of her, in front of the Event Hall door, she saw a figure running past, crouched on all fours. But it continued, not turning her way.

Star stepped through the doorway and looked around. Behind her was the hallway leading to the worship part of the church. In front of her was the Event Hall, where the Feast was supposed to occur. If she could make it there, she'd go out the back doors, which opened onto the rear parking lot.

As Star stepped forward, her foot encountered something soft. On the floor was a small, limp body, its head twisted at a broken angle.

The doll looked familiar, and it took a second for Star to understand why. She'd seen it only an hour earlier, clasped in the hands of a little girl. The girl had been running, running from a pack of boys, all of them wearing squirrel masks. Star turned her head away and stepped over it, pointing herself toward the back hall. Behind her, from the direction of the Event Hall, came the sound of laughter.

Star planted her other foot over the doll and measured the distance to the Event Hall's door. Only fifty or so feet. Fifty feet.
Please, dear God, don't let it be locked.

More laughter drifted at her from the dark, this time deep and guttural.

Star ran toward the door and did not look back.

The hag finally emerged from her hiding.

As soon as Rosie stepped outside, Javier brought the blunt ax down on her head. Once. Twice. A third time. It didn't come cleanly off, but hung by the threads of torn flesh. Javier bent back down and buried the ax again, sawing with it. He planted his foot on the woman's torso, watching as her mouth fish-hooked open and closed. Around her mouth was a dried brown stain. Brown, like the color of his sister's hair. Brown, like his mother's eyes.

He sawed harder, applying all the pressure he had in his thin body until, finally, the head popped loose. It rolled a few feet away and stopped with a thud against the post of the clothesline, where two dresses fluttered merrily in the breeze.

Dropping the ax, Javier went to retrieve his prize, bending to grab it by the hair. He held it high against the orange sun by its gray curls and then spat into its face. From the severed edges of the skin, a black, treacly substance dripped. After another moment of staring at the head, Javier flung it as hard as he could into the field beside the house. He wiped his hands on his jeans and went back to retrieve the ax from where he'd dropped it. If there were more of these people—no, these demons. These mind-fuckers. These
pinche cabrones
—he'd find them. He had a score to settle. It was all he had left, this score. After that, there'd be nothing for him, and that would be that. But for now…

He thought he'd start with the redhead. And he had a pretty good idea where to find her. Where to find all of them. Whistling, Javier swung the ax over his shoulder, and walked toward the church.