Tandem of Terror (6 page)

"
Skin disease?"

"
My yes, a tragedy because
she was always such a gorgeous creature. Three different doctors
made house calls. None could figure out what was wrong. The skin on
her face came right off, deteriorating overnight. It was so
ghastly.

Eventually she just refused to leave the
house altogether, poor thing. Her face was right down to the muscle
and tissue. We had to wrap her in gauze and bandages. She looked
like something out of one of those old horror movies, like a... mummy
I think you call it."

Lisa stood speechless. She reached for her
chin and slowly rubbed the bandage there. Then slid her hand over
the new scratches on her left cheek.

"
Oh dear," Millie began.
"Your scratches look just like...like you have the same condition.
Huh, what are the chances of that?"

Lisa's heart dropped into her stomach. "Yeah,
what are the chances," she muttered to herself and pushed her way
out of the bank.

"
I think you've been working
a little too hard," Chris said with a huge grin on his
face.

"
Don't patronize me,
Christopher."

"
Lisa, you seriously want me
to believe some
thing
comes out when you're asleep and tears
the skin off your face?"

"
I've seen it. In glimpses
but it was there. I didn't want to believe it before but after
meeting Millie at the bank--"

"
So a lady at the bank told
you a monster lives in our house?"

"
No, you don't under...you
know what forget it. I'll fight it myself." Lisa pulled herself
from the kitchen table and stormed up the spiral
staircase.

"
Lisa, I'm just teasing,"
Chris called after her. "Okay, do you know how silly it
sounds?"

She ignored her husband and slammed the
bedroom door behind her. Her gaze swept the room. Water stains in
the ceiling formed a trail of odd shapes and patterns. A bit of
wallpaper peeled in the corner, reminding Lisa of her face. Her
scratches burned as she ran her hand across them.

"
I know you're here," she
whispered. "I know now and I'm going to stop you."

In the Eye of the Beholder

Three weeks later it felt just like a
pinprick. Like someone stuck a needle into her thigh. Lisa woke in
the dead of night and caught it in the act. Her eyes fought to
focus. Her mind struggled to clear the fog. The creature retracted
one of its fingers from her thigh, having injected a paralyzing
agent.

Lisa tried to kick it away but it was too
late, she was already immobile. "No" she called hoarsely. She
peered over and saw Chris's side of the bed empty.
Where the
hell is he?

"
Get away from me!" She felt
the secretion traveling through her veins and her arms quickly grew
numb. "Bastard."

It peered up and she got a full look at it
for the first time. It crawled onto her like a spider, its legs
longer then the entire length of its torso. Its entire body was
skinless, revealing a patchwork of shifting muscle and sinewy
tissue. It secreted mucus over its body to keep it moist. Veins
throbbed as glands pulsated. The creature glistened in the
moonlight illuminating the room.

Lisa wanted to scream but could already feel
the rest of her body going numb. It moved up her inch by inch,
leaning its skinless face over hers. Milky yellow eyes glared at
her. When it opened its mouth to speak a glob of puss drooled out.
Lisa felt her stomach turn and fought back the urge to vomit,
fearing she may choke if it surged into her throat.

"
Why your kind cover its
faces?" It asked. "Such an ugly mask. This mask is not needed."
Long fingers reached up and plucked the flesh from her nose.
Scritch, scritch
.

"
I make you beautiful," it
continued. "My kind wear no masks, no covering. We beautiful. You
ugly. Hard to look at. This strange substance is foul. Disgusting.
That is why I make you beautiful like me."
Scritch,
scritch
.

"
The others of my kind
afraid of your masks."
Scritch, scritch.
"They hide from
you."
Scritch, scritch
. "I show them you beautiful
underneath. Like us."

Ribbons of flesh curled off Lisa's face, it
stripped from her nose, her forehead, and her ears. She lay
helpless as coarse fingers traced her lips and began to pull.

Tears filled the corners of her eyes as her
face seared with pain. She knew she was not meant to be awake.
Something had to have gone wrong. She woke before the injection
finished. Eleanor must have never known what was happening or
surely she would have left the house. Inside, Lisa screamed in
agony. Her eyes rolled back in her head.

The creature grinned, a jagged slash through
a fleshless jack-o-lantern, and reveled in its work. Little by
little, it let the skin fall to the floor or flutter onto the bed.
Its legs knobbed together like hollow bones.

"
I see your real face," it
said, then gasped. It froze suddenly, ceasing its work.

Lisa watched in astonishment as a wooden
chair leg plunged through the creature's chest. Its eyes widened in
shock. Its arms flailed as Chris rose behind it, twisting the stake
with all of his strength.

The creature squealed as Chris dragged it
from the bed and threw it to the floor. He pulled his makeshift
weapon from its body and drove it down again, stabbing at will, the
point of the wood driving home. Black fluid spattered the bedroom
walls.

"
Die!" Chris yelled. "You
son of a bitch, die!" He stabbed again and again until it no longer
moved. He tossed the chair leg to the floor and turned to Lisa. He
raced to her side and cradled her in his hands.

"
Baby, I'm so sorry." Tears
welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. God I'm so
sorry Lisa."

She couldn't talk or move but her heart
stopped racing and her breathing began to return to normal. "Lisa,
what's wrong?" Chris asked, panic filling his voice. "Why aren't
you talking or moving? I'm calling an ambulance."

"
It's...okay..." she managed to
whisper to him. "It will wear off soon. I'm okay. Thank you...my
love..." She felt her fingers twitch and wished she could run them
through Chris's beard right now. God, how she wanted it.

"
I went downstairs to watch
TV because I couldn't sleep. When I came back and saw it..I...I
should have believed you." He shook his head and held her tight
until the paralysis faded away.

Lisa stood in Chris's arms and stared at the
finished dining room with pride. It took months of hard work but it
was well worth it. It looked just as
she
imagined it would
have back when she was a child. She couldn't be happier.

"
You sure you don't want to
sell this place?" Chris asked her one last time.

"
Never," answered Lisa.
"This house has peace now. I'm going to bring it back for Eleanor.
Just as she would have wanted it." She turned, walked into the
living room, and began stripping the wallpaper off the nearest
wall. The paper rolled off in curls just like...like...
Scritch,
scritch
. She immediately pushed the thought out of her
mind.

A Sign of the
Times

John Grover

Monroe Massachusetts Daily Gazette

Excerpt from page 5B:

Public Awareness Editorial

Today marks the one-year anniversary since
the horrible accident at the Brickner Laboratories that unleashed
the plague. This airborne virus spread wildly across the United
States bringing the recently dead back to life. The undead stalked
and killed many citizens creating even more victims like
themselves.

With official orders from the President, the
national guard along with armed swat teams contained this unholy
threat, ridding the country of most of the walking dead. Some
managed to escape the martial efforts but were seen as little
threat as public awareness of the epidemic grew and Americans took
the necessary precautions to protect themselves.

Today very few of these walking threats have
been spotted but undoubtedly there are a few that remain among us.
Although the virus is no longer spreading, the dead still rise.
Anyone who dies presently rises and attacks the living. For this
reason it has become common practice to see brick fireplaces or
cremation fires in the backyards of most American homes.

A new law has been formed that states any
human being in the United States, be they friend, relative or
family member, who passes on must be burned and cremated within the
hour. This is of the utmost importance, citing the hazardous
implications that may occur. Government and church officials have
bestowed the right of family to give their loved ones the last
rites in the case of death and properly dispose of the body.

Funerals as we know them have become
non-existent. It is now common place to witness a family quietly
praying in their backyard as they place a white sheet wrapped form
into a fiery resting place.

Today, as of nine am, restoration of the
Brickner Laboratories has begun. The first layer of foundation has
been poured as the work crews ready to frame the new building.

Virginia sighed before crumbling the
newspaper and tossing it into the kitchen trash bucket. Standing in
front of the sink, the faucet dripping sporadically, she stared out
into the backyard. Her eyes traced the brick structure that loomed
at the far end of the yard, poised just before the wheat fields
that seemed to stretch on forever.

Richard had it built six months after the
plague-virus struck the country. Just in case, he said. You never
knew when it would be necessary. Better to be prepared than be
stupid.

Was that movement in the field? Had there
been a glimpse of something, a shape, a shadow, sluggishly pushing
through the wheat? Perhaps one of them, searching mindlessly,
lumbering with primal response, propelled by basic motor functions
with a single desire; destroy anything alive.

Virginia wasn't sure and honestly, she didn't
care. To her right a strainer full of stainless steel pots sat
drying. She caught her reflection in them as she turned to leave
the sink. Her auburn hair was streaked with gray and the bun she
tied it back with was becoming unraveled. Strands sprung from every
side of her head and most times she would be aghast with this but
now, it wasn't worth the effort.

Bags wore heavy beneath her blue eyes and
there was a sadness in them, that of a life gone by, of a world
gone to hell. She was tired, tired of it all.

Her thin hands took hold of the yellow apron
she wore and rubbed it swiftly. Removing the apron, she threw it
over the pots and pans, hiding the image of herself she could no
longer bare to see.

"
Ginny!" Richard called from
the parlor.

His voice grated right through her and she
shuddered slightly when she heard it.

"
Where's my iced tea, babe?"
he bellowed. "You know I need one with my shows."

Shaking her head, she walked to the fridge
and retrieved the pitcher of iced tea; the ice cubes jingling
around in it with annoyance.

Handing him a tall cold glass, she sat in the
rocking chair across from him. Taking a sip he grinned widely at
her. "Thanks babe."

She hated that grin. Even more, she hated
when he called her babe.

Twenty two years of cooking meals, scrubbing
floors, cleaning toilets, sewing torn trousers and loose buttons,
bringing glasses of ice tea and hearing the words "thanks babe" in
return. What did she have to show for it?

Nothing. Not a shred of fulfillment, her
entire life had simply passed her by and she was tired, oh so
tired.
My soul is empty
, she thought.
I am so drained. I
might as well be one of them out there
.

It wasn't as if Richard was a bad man. He had
never laid a hand on her or even raised his voice. There again,
that was part of the problem. He was so nonchalant about
everything, never growing angry, never getting riled up, never
getting depressed. It was as if there was no emotion at all. Show
something Goddamn it, anything! Show that you were moved by
something.

If only he had wanted children. She craved to
be a part of something bigger, to give a part of herself to
something that would grow and bloom rather than remain in servitude
to someone so occupied with themselves.

Children were out of the question. For God's
sake they might have taken some of the attention away from him. A
wife's duty was to her husband he believed firmly. The subject was
closed.

For another hour she sat mute in her chair,
rocking steadily as Richard remained fixated on his shows. Even
they were all the same, pointless and dull.

How did I marry such a boring man?

Virginia could barely stand to look at him
now as her eyes tried to find something, anything else in the room
to stare at.

"
Babe, could I get another
iced tea?"

The rocking chair stopped in mid rock, the
voice drilled through her and she crinkled her nose with disdain.
She had had about enough.

Getting up, she walked over to his
outstretched hand and took the glass without saying a word.

Virginia stood in front of the kitchen window
again and stared at the bricked furnace in the backyard. The bricks
seemed to wiggle about as she watched them. She wasn't sure how
long she stood there but the call finally jarred her out of her
trance.