The Dark Trinity (Book 1): Shuffle (8 page)

CHAPTER 6 
  GRANDPA

Ronnie watched as his friend gobbled the rest of his lunch
and headed back to work. He didn't blame Nathan for snubbing the special. Some
people just didn't have the intestinal fortitude that he did. One of these days
he'd get a sweet review in the Post-Gazette's Food section and the Dog Shack
would be famous. Although Nathan wasn't always supportive of his culinary
creations, he could always count on him. He was always there for him. No matter
what. If he were ever stuck "in the shit," there wasn't anyone else
he'd rather want watching his back.

He shooed away the remaining customers that lingered outside
the Shack and grabbed the police scanner off the counter. He walked out the
side door and pulled down the metal grate over the front of the hot dog stand.
Better tighten shit up, he thought as he closed the padlock in place.
Waaaaaay
too many crazies out today.

He placed one earphone in his left ear and pushed play on his
iPod, pumping the sweet vocal platitudes of Miley Cyrus into his head. In the
other ear, he jammed a different headphone which fed him a steady stream from
the police radio. Having ADHD did have its advantages. It allowed him to rock
out with his favorite tween sensation while keeping up to date on the shit
which was hitting the proverbial fan.

Ronnie strolled down Grant Street at a casual pace. He could
hear siren after siren over the scanner, which now told him that the Governor
had deployed the National Guard. People raced by him in the opposite direction.
Cars jammed every intersection in an attempt to flee the city. The dispatcher
on the radio began to lose her professional tone and now sounded panic-stricken
as she directed units to shut down all bridges and tunnels out of the city.

He reached Ft. Pitt Boulevard, which now served as a parking
lot as cars trying to leave the city stretched as far as the eye could see.
Crossing the street, he approached the far side of the road closest to the
Monongahela River. Ronnie wasn't shocked by much, but the sight before him made
his stomach drop.

“Daaaaaaaaaaamn,” he uttered as he felt for the iPod in his
pocket. A couple clicks later, Hannah Montana switched over to Metallica’s
“Nothing Else Matters.” Station Square, a tourist spot loaded with various
shops and restaurants, was ablaze. The fires stretched all down Carson Street
and razed about a two mile swath of bars, night clubs, eateries and shops,
which comprised the bustling South Side area. Screams, screeches, cries and
gunfire sang like a macabre chorus from Satan’s choir. Pandemonium ruled the
South Side and all Ronnie could do was stand there in awe of its destruction.

He abandoned his plan to walk the Smithfield Street Bridge to
Station Square and instead turned right. He headed towards Point State Park,
where the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers converged to form the Ohio. Horns
sounded from the cars packed in gridlock to his right, but he ignored them. His
attention was now focused on the elderly man standing before him.

“What’s up grandpa,” he said. The old man took a shaky step,
shuffling towards him. “Whoa, dude, you alright? You ain’t lookin’ so hot there
pops.”

The man took another step, his pale face pleading with him.
His mouth was moving, trying to say something.

“What’s that?” he said as he removed the headphones from his
ears.

“Whaaaaat’s haaaaaappening toooooo meeeeee?” asked grandpa in
a raspy, shallow voice.

“Honestly bro, it looks like you’re dying,” Ronnie replied.

“I’m soooooooooooooo huuuuuuuuungryyyyyyyy...” grandpa
retorted.

“Aw bro, you’re in luck! I just happen to have the freshest
delicacy back at my dog shop,” he replied. “You like wontons?”

The old dude who looked like he was dying took another shakey
step. “Ruuuuuuuuunnnnn,” he rasped. A thick red sauce that reminded Ronnie of
barbecue bubbled out of the man’s mouth.

“Oh shit bro! You’re REALLY not lookin’ so hot. You should go
see a doctor or something.”

“RUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!!!!!!!” the man shouted. He then opened his
mouth wide and stuck out his tongue.

“Um, no offense dude, but I like chicks.”

Ronnie saw the man’s tongue slither out from between his
yellowed and blood-stained teeth. The forked end opened to expose the gruesome
barb. At this point he thought that this would be a good time to take the man’s
suggestion and book it the hell out of there. He would have left, but having never
backed down from a fight, his upbringing and his pride kept him rooted to the
pavement.

Grandpa reached out and grabbed his wrist, clenching so tight
he could feel the blood immediately stop flowing to his hand.

“Look dude, you really don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna
hurt you, but I will seriously lay you the fuck ou...”

The man’s other arm swooped across him, back-handing Ronnie
across his jaw. Grandpa’s grip on his wrist seemed to have tightened and
started to hurt and now his jaw throbbed.
This dude is a lot stronger than
he looked,
he thought. He grabbed the arm that held the vice grip on his
wrist and spun underneath, doing a dosey-doe with grandpa. The old man released
his wrist and staggered to regain his balance.

“Yeah, that’s right, I am all OVER them Bruce Lee moves!”
Before the man had a chance to right himself, Ronnie landed a right hook,
shattering the man’s nose. More barbecue sauce spurted out the man’s damaged
nostrils. A left jab liberated his partial dentures, leaving a giant gap in his
mouth.

He took a step back from the dying man who bled barbecue
sauce, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. His knuckles hurt, but
they weren't bleeding yet.
Still plenty of punches left in them,
he
thought.

“That’s right you pasty asshole, how’d that feel? You see
these guns, son? These are the Guns of Navarone mothafucka!”

And with that, Ronnie went in for the knockout punch. He
couldn't explain what happened next. The man jumped ten feet straight up,
raining that gross barbecue sauce as he hung in mid-air for a split second. A
moment later, grandpa landed behind him. Ronnie spun around, preparing to throw
a hammer fist, but the old man stopped his arm and his momentum with one hand.
A split second later and pops had his mouth on his forearm, the remaining teeth
penetrating his flesh.

“AAAAGGGHHH!” he cried as he pummeled the man with punch
after punch. Finally, the man released his jaws, a look of anguish on his face.

“I don’t want to eat youuuuuuuu...” said the creature.

“Don’t worry, you won’t, you crusty, old, geriatric piece of
shit!” Ronnie exclaimed as he grabbed the back of grandpa’s neck and slammed
his head face-first into the curb.

What remained of the man’s teeth shattered as his open mouth
wrapped around the edge of the curb. Ronnie shot up and planted his steel-toed
Timberland boot into the back of the Grandpa’s head. A loud snap resonated as
the jaw broke. He didn't stop with one kick. This fucker had bitten him and now
he had to pay. He stood over his attacker and continued to drive his boot into
the back of the skull.  A flood of expletives escaped Ronnie's mouth
in-between each swing of his leg. Every kick preceded a loud, nauseating
crunch. The lower jaw broke away from the face, the vertebrae in the neck
snapped, and the skull caved in, exposing barbecue covered brains.

Exhausted and out of breath, he walked over and leaned on the
railing overlooking the river. Assessing the damage to his left arm from the
old man’s teeth, he cringed as he looked at the blood that was gushing from his
torn jacket. He looked across the water. The low-lying clouds reflected the
orange light from the blaze which burned along the opposite banks.

Trippy, he thought. Really wish I had some ‘shrooms right
now.

He began to feel light headed. Not wanting to pass out and be
easy pickings for any more deranged old farts, he took off his belt and tied it
around his bicep. Hopefully, it would stop the bleeding.

“Time to go find Homie-G-Funk,” he said under his breath as
he shambled his way back into the city.

CHAPTER 7 
  WAKE UP
CALL

North Hills, Suburb of Pittsburgh
Forest Glenn Apartment Complex

A warm, wet tongue moved in broad strokes up and down her
face. Hot breath immediately followed; it smelled like a week old bean burrito.
She opened her eyes to the sight of Boomer's black and pink spotted tongue
flopped to the side of his large, earnest smile. The black, sixty-two pound
mutt stared down at her and pawed her to get up.

“Aw Boomer, what time is it?” she moaned as she turned to the
clock radio on her nightstand. Two forty-five PM glowed back at her.
SHIT!
She had over slept. Another late night of research, the third one in a row, had
taken its toll. Even best-selling authors needed their beauty sleep.

Boomer gave a soft grunt-bark and licked her again on the
cheek. “Okay buddy, I’m up, I’m up.”

Evelyn Gray arose and shuffled into the bathroom. After a
quick shower, she made her way into the kitchen. She flipped on the small
counter-top television, then moved on to the coffee maker. She was mad that she
had slept most of the day away, but was thankful for the extra rest. The past
few weeks had been hell while she finished up the last few chapters of her
manuscript. Her editor Edith, an abrasive middle-aged woman from Long Island,
had been pressing her hard for the remaining pages of her new crime novel.

The local news droned in the background as she finished
preparing the coffee grounds. She noticed that the usual dull news seemed
different today. The anchors looked distressed and didn't have the usual fake
smile that they wore when they reported the day's bad news.

She felt Boomer lean up against her leg, and reached for a
bacon flavored Busy Bone from the cupboard. Evelyn stared at the television as
the newscast continued their coverage of the growing pandemonium. The impact of
the stories hadn't sunk in until she heard a horrifying statistic.
“Approximately seventy-five people have died so far in the South Side
uprising...” the anchorwoman said.

WHAT??!!

The Busy Bone fell from her hand as she stood there in
disbelief. Boomer snatched up the bone and trotted off to his favorite spot on
the small landing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window by the front door.

“My God,” she whispered as she continued to listen to the
news, this time, more attentive to the details. She poured a large cup of
coffee, straight up. As more details of the events unfolded, the more terrified
Evelyn got.
I've got to call Nate,
she thought as she reached for the
kitchen phone.

The phone rang and rang. Finally, he picked up.

“Nate? Nate, you weren't at your desk, where are you?” she
asked, her voice in an obvious panic.

“Nate, what’s that sound? Are those sirens? Are you okay?”
her pulse increased. The commotion on the other end made it impossible for her
to hear her fiancé on the other end.

“Honey, I want you to come home, there’s terrible things
going on across the river from you, it’s not safe... Screw the client
meeting... NO! You can’t stay late! It’s really bad out there. People have
died... Your usual time?” she was getting angry. Nathan could be such a
stubborn ass sometimes. His biggest problem was his optimism. That and the fact
that much of the time he felt that she overreacted in most situations.

“Promise me you’ll be careful... Promise that you’ll come
straight home, no stops along the way... I love you too. I’m scared baby, I
need you here... Alright, I’ll see you when you get home.”

She placed the cordless phone back on its charging cradle.
The TV continued to display various images of people in the streets fighting
with police officers and each other. Rioters broke storefront windows and
poured in and out to loot whatever they could get their hands on. Evelyn
continued to stand in stunned silence in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. She
finally had enough, hit the power button, and made her way into the living
room.

The anger that she continued to feel towards Nathan had
changed to worry. She hoped and prayed that he would keep his word and be home
at his normal time. She didn't think he had a clue how serious things were
getting. Had he known, he would have made a beeline to his car and then out of
the city.

Her cell phone rang, startling the thirty-one year old, which
caused her to drop her coffee. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she ran to grab some
paper towels; answering the phone on the way.

“Hello?”

“Eve? Hey it’s Jules, are you watching the news?” said the
voice on the other end of the line.

“Not anymore. I couldn't stomach it for long. What the hell
is going on Jules?” she asked her best friend of fifteen years. Julie and
Evelyn had met during their early teens and had been besties ever since. Julie
moved into the same apartment plan as her and Nathan last year, which was nice
when they wanted to get together.

“Damned if I know. I hear that it’s not just on the South Side.
Looks like shit’s been going down all over the place. Where’s Nate, is he there
with you?”

“No, he’s at work,” Evelyn replied in a flat, annoyed tone.

The irritation was clear in Julie's voice. “Are you fucking
kidding me? Did you talk to him? He knows it’s not safe down there, right?”

“He knows. He’s going to be heading home shortly,” she lied.

“I don’t know girl, that man of yours has some screwed up
priorities. You need to sit down with him and ta...” A crash cut Julie’s
lecture, followed by a scream, then another crash, and then the call went dead.

“Jules? Julie?” Evelyn tried calling back, but Julie’s
voicemail was the one who answered. Three more attempts yielded the same
result.

She threw on some clothes, slid on her high leather boots and
grabbed her coat. She paused before closing the closet door. After a moment of
contemplation, she grabbed the aluminum softball bat that leaned against the
vacuum cleaner. “Be good Boo, Mommy will be right back.” she said as she closed
the front door behind her.

Forest Glenn was a decent sized apartment community situated
in a valley surrounded by trees and hills, thus the name. The plan consisted of
sixteen buildings arranged on two streets, forming a giant “L” shape. Evelyn
sprinted down the street, turned left at the corner and continued down the
cross street to Julie’s place. She could hear screaming as she moved down the
road. At first she thought it was Julie, but it was much too close; Julie’s
apartment was on the far side of the plan. Movement caught her eye to her left,
and as she slowed her pace, a door to unit 127 opened.

A woman close to her age burst through the doorway, but then
stopped short as a man grabbed her hair from behind. The woman screamed as the
man dragged her back inside. Evelyn stopped and tried to get a look at the
girl’s assailant, but all she could see were shadows. The door slammed shut and
the sounds that followed caused her blood to run cold. She had never heard
screams like that before. Then, without warning, they stopped.

For a moment, she debated on helping the girl, but her friend
needed her. Besides, she wasn't sure what she would be walking in on. A car
screeched around the corner and sped down the street she had just came from.
Moments later, she heard it crash into another car; a horn droned on and on.

Evelyn forced herself to move and continued on to Julie’s
place. She didn't know what was going on, but standing still in the middle of
the street definitely seemed like a bad idea. She continued on towards the dead
end. The car horn still blared in the distance behind her, but she didn't
noticed. The only sound she could hear was the beating of her own heart. A
minute and a half later, she was standing in front of her best friend’s
apartment.

The door was open. A six inch crack of darkness was visible.
A smear of blood ran across the front. She gripped the aluminum bat tight and
took a step towards the door. Noises came from inside, as if someone was moving
around on broken glass. Her pulse quickened, pounding hard as she took a deep
breath and approached. Extending the bat out in front of her, she nudged the
door open. It creaked every inch of the way.

Why do things always have to creak during these
situations?
she asked herself as she held her breath, bracing herself for
the worst. Unfortunately, the worst would have been preferable. The shuffling
sound had stopped, leaving an unnatural silence in the dark apartment. She took
a few steps through the door, trying to force her gaze deeper. The carpet
squished beneath her feet with each step. Looking down, she could see dark
stains covering the entire area down the hallway and into the living room. She
gripped the bat even tighter and continued on out of the hall. As she emerged,
the gruesome scene came into view.

The glass coffee table lay on the floor shattered into
pieces; shards of glass were everywhere. Blood painted the L-shaped sectional
couch. There was so much blood. Jutting out from behind the end of the sofa was
a foot. Eve took a wide, circular approach towards the back of the couch. There
lying on the floor was her bestie of fifteen years; naked and obliterated.

The sight immediately caused her stomach to clench, throwing
her into a fit of vomiting. She steeled herself and looked at Julie. Empty hip
sockets returned her gaze. The legs sat a foot below her torso. They appeared
as though someone plucked them from her body like a couple of apple stems. Her
torso gaped open from pelvis to throat; wide like a high school dissection
project. The majority of her internal organs were gone, leaving the body cavity
hollowed out like a canoe. The head twisted backwards; her face buried into the
blood-soaked carpet. Both of her arms were missing.

“Oh Jules…”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she struggled to pull herself
together. Calamity ensued outside; doors slamming, horns honking, people
yelling. The commotion had been increasing in intensity while she’d been
inside.

A bang from the front bedroom told Eve that it was time to
get the hell out of there. She sprinted down the hallway. Just before she got
to the door, a middle-aged woman lunged from the bedroom to her right, smashing
her into the wall. Luckily, she had been able to bring the bat up in front of
her with both hands, using it as a barrier between herself and the deranged
woman.

Since her attacker was a mere nine inches from her face, she
was able to get a good look at the woman. Pale skin, which seemed white, was
the most obvious feature about the crazed lady. Blood-red eyes glared at her
from the other side of the bat. They were so red, the pupils almost got lost in
the crimson. Thin, veiny, dark red tendrils branched out from the outer corners
of each eye like little barren tree branches. The fingers that held the bat had
lost all their nails, but the tips seemed to have elongated and tapered into
two-inch talons. The woman turned up her mouth into a snarl, exposing teeth
that were now stained red with Julie's blood.

Her mouth opened like an anaconda and released the engorged,
snake-like tongue. The tip split down the middle and a bony stinger protruded.
It dripped some sort of gooey greenish liquid from its tip.

The tongue flailed towards her head, but Evelyn ducked to the
right, while pushing forward onto the bat. The stinger punctured the plaster
and had embedded into the wall stud. Her chance had come. She sidestepped the
creature and slid the bat from the hideous woman's grip, then jabbed the fat
end of the bat into the side of its skull. The impact wasn't powerful, but it
looked like it was enough to stun the thing. The downside though, was that it
also dislodged the stinger from the wall.

Adrenaline had taken over all thought processes, keeping her
alive. She darted out the front door, with the mutant psychopath right on her
heels. As her feet hit the parking lot in front of her, she changed directions
and stopped, causing her pursuer to overshoot her. Evelyn readied the bat and
swung as hard as she could, striking gold as it connected with the ghoul’s
head. The force of the impact stung her hands. The loud “ding” and immediate “crunch”
that followed confirmed that she had caved in the back of the skull. Mission
accomplished.

The woman pitched forward from her momentum, landing
face-first into a snow bank. Thick reddish-black blood spurted from the fresh
head wound and she laid there twitching. Evelyn didn’t stop to contemplate what
had just happened, nor did she contemplate what had happened to this woman.
Around her, mass hysteria was wreaking havoc on her senses. As she surveyed her
surroundings, she stood in in disbelief.

Some of Julie's neighbors emerged from their apartments. Some
still appeared human, while others had changed into whatever the hell had
attacked her. The “changed” ones were chasing after the “normal” ones; beating,
clawing, and biting at them. The resulting screams were horrific.