Bleed On Me (3 page)

The woman cackled, spider-walked backwards at them as the black pupil glared at them from her throat, lined with a blood-red iris.

“Oh, Jesus!”
The noise that seeped from Spade was like air escaping a tight balloon nipple.

Chris shrieked, went straight for the front door again, but the rapid tapping sound coming at him from his left stopped him in his tracks. The other woman, nude but for the lizard-green thong, crawled on her back in a wavy pattern, her eyes throwing bleeding light over the door. The tapping came from the countless spindly legs that had sprouted from her spine, and she crawled at Chris like a hellish millipede, blocking his path. Black antennae sprung from the tips of her nipples and flailed as if tasting the death in the air.

“Fuck me!” Chris backed away from her, bumped into something and screamed. He turned to find Spade, who was just finishing up a scream of his own. Their arms pressed hard against each other as they backed up into the kitchen and glared at the living room.

Each of the dead bodies was waking now, each with their own nightmarish features. One man whose face looked shredded, the cheek meat scooped away, grabbed his mouth with both hands by the teeth and pulled in opposite directions until there was a sickening tearing sound and a pop. His head opened up like a set bear trap, most of his skull dangling upside down by the spine root. The tongue thrashed, then pulled tight, tearing itself away from the base and lifting high into the air. Something pushed at the flesh on either side of his neck, stretching and bulging the skin until it ripped open and two matching pincers emerged. The tip of the thrashing tongue split and what resembled a scorpion’s stinger curled itself out, dripping black venom.

Chris realized through all of this that he’d only been watching, unable to stop himself from gawking. What he was witnessing was not possible, and the only thing he could think of was that he’d died at some point of the day, had been sent down to hell with no recollection of his own demise.

The rest of the formerly dead people sprouted extra appendages, teeth, claws, eyes. Dead flesh opened up and new flesh was born. Each one of them had those red eyes, and they were all directed at Chris and Spade.

George was the last to rise, his intestines flailing back to life, lifting him into the air to tower over the others. His limp head hung, but his smile stretched wide. “The master sees you, Spade. And he’s coming. We’re all coming.”

The front door was blocked by the millipede girl, along with another man who had sprouted two extra arms, long and wiry, coated with black tarantula hair. Mouths covered his head, each snapping and hissing.

“Now what?” Chris said.

Spade aimed his gun, swept it across the room as he fired wildly. Most bullets hit flesh, but did nothing. Bullet holes bled ink, but the creatures didn’t even flinch, only closed in on the two men, cackling and snarling. Red eyelight flooded the room.

“Fuck! I…I don’t know, man.
I don’t know!
”

Chris grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pulled as he watched the demons come for him.
They don’t even want me. They’re after Spade! I only wanted him to shut off his fucking music!

A door stood partially open on the other side of the room, and Chris grabbed Spade by the arm and pulled him, winced from the biting pain in his hands.

“What the fuck you doin’, man?”

“Come on. Move!”

Chris hopped over the woman with the throat eye, the pupil of the eye following him all the while. Scorpion Head reached for him, but Chris ducked and screamed, nearly stumbled headfirst into the wall. He still clutched Spade’s wrist in his hand, and his momentum flung the man right into Scorpion Head’s clutches.

“Ahhhh!”

Chris grabbed Spade by the waist and yanked him back, but not before the stinger shot forward and caught Spade in the shoulder. Blood exploded from the wound and the black poison washed over it. The shriek that belted from Spade’s mouth bounced off the walls, and Chris pulled harder, got him away from the venomous demon. The bandages on his hands were now soaking with blood.

The others had their eyes on the two men, but never quickened their pace, just kept that same slow, confident stride as they began moving toward them. Above his rapid breathing and Spade’s pained moans, there was the constant giggling and hissing, accompanied by the splat of their feet pressing into the blood-soaked carpet. The essence of blood and brimstone hung in the air, filled Chris’s nostrils and coated the inside of his mouth.

He thought about those shows he’d seen on TV, the hidden camera ones, where they put somebody in an impossible scenario, surround them with horror, and right when their minds are about to shatter, the monsters or killers or aliens smile, point to the cameras, and then everyone has a big laugh.
Is that it? Was this all a setup?
He shook his head as he stared at the creatures walking and slithering and scuttling toward him.
If this is a TV show, their effects guy needs a raise.
And Chris wasn’t going to stand around and find out.

He pulled Spade along, swung the door open, entered the bedroom, and slammed the door shut.

***

Todd heard the music exploding from an apartment somewhere in the rundown complex, and he sat inside of the BMW peering from the window. “Fucking heathens out there, Pete. Make me sick, they really do.”

They sat in the parking lot, Paul’s eyes staring at Todd through the rearview again. “Want me to come with you, sir?”

Todd snorted another pinkie nail full of coke, evened it up on the other side. He leaned his head back, shut his eyes, and let the drug take hold. As he exhaled, he locked eyes with Paul. “Well, if you don’t
mind
, Pete. I have no doubt you’d love for me to go out there alone, get mugged, beaten, or killed as you sit comfortably in my fucking luxury car and watch. That it, Pete?”

“My name’s Paul.” It was little more than a mumble, but Todd made it out.

“What was that,
Pete?
”

“I said I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, sir. I’d be glad to escort you.” Paul cleared his throat, shifted in his seat.

“Really? Because the first thing you said didn’t seem nearly that long.” Todd snorted, let the bitter taste of the cocaine drip coat his mouth. Adrenaline coursing through his body, he laughed, waved his hand in the air. “I’m just fucking with you. Come on, let’s get this shit over with.”

Todd stayed in his seat, waiting for Paul to come around the car and open the door for him. The driver was clearly upset, his eyebrows slanted, his mouth straight. Todd rolled his eyes, patted the guy on the back. “Here, why don’t you loosen up a little.” He pulled out his vial and tapped a hit into his nail, held it up to the driver. “Go ahead.”

Paul hesitated, licked his teeth. Then leaned in and snorted it up, continued to sniff as he wiped at his nose.

“Good shit, huh, Pete?”

“Fuck yeah…I mean, yes, sir.”

“Good. Now let’s get a move on so we can get the fuck out of here.”

They walked up the staircase toward Chris’s apartment, and Todd realized it was the apartment below that that was blasting the rap music. The thundering bass shook the stairs, and Todd snickered and shook his head. He stared at the door as he ascended, then stopped midstride.

What the fuck was that?

He could have sworn he saw something whipping out from under the door, like some giant spider’s legs reaching out into the hallway. But as he stared harder, he didn’t see anything, and he ran his hand over his face, swallowed another mouthful of drip, and chuckled.

Paul stood outside of Chris’s apartment, and the noise coming from inside was just as loud as the music below. There was talking, some studio-audience laughter, and it was obvious to Todd that Chris was watching TV, the volume cranked up to drown out the thumping bass.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Chris, open the fucking door. My head’s about to split open from all the fucking noise around here.”

A short pause with no answer. Todd imagined his stepson peering at him from the other side through the peephole, flipping the bird and sticking out his tongue. No matter how old the fucker got, Todd would always see him as an overgrown child.

Pound, pound, pound.

“You got about another second to open this fucking door before I leave and you don’t get any of your precious allowance. You hear me!” Nothing. Todd massaged his temples, thought about Tanya’s decrepit body, devoid of all hair, lying like a husk of dried-up flesh in her bed, medical equipment strapped to her, beeping, dripping, buzzing. A sickening shiver raped its way up his spine, and her last wishes whispered into his ear.

Goddamnit.

Though Chris would never believe him, Todd missed Tanya every second of every day. Sure, the money was nice, but if he could have saved her somehow, he would have. It’s something he thought about constantly, living in her home, drinking and smoking and snorting to numb it all. He sighed, took a long breath. “Paul, will you try the door?”

The driver started, turned toward him. “You said my… Yes, yes, sir.”

The man reached out, and the knob turned in his hand. He shoved the door in, and the sound of Jerry Seinfeld’s squeaky voice exploded out like a trapped beast being set free.

“Jesus Christ, how can you watch that-” Todd walked straight for the couch, the only place he ever found Chris, but it was empty, a large ass-shaped dip in the center of it. His head pulsated and he massaged his forehead, pointed toward the remote control resting between two cushions. “Pete…will you…”

“Already on it, sir.” The driver cut the power off, tossed the remote away.

The music rattled the floor, the bass tickling the bottoms of Todd’s feet. “This dumb fuck has enough money to get out of this shithole, get a decent place to live, and this is what he chooses.”

His eyes roamed the apartment, then his nose told him something was rotting somewhere close by. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the taste of tobacco only slightly covering up the putrid layer coating the inside of his mouth and nose.

The bedroom door was shut, and Todd stomped his way across the living room, pounded the palm of his hand against the cold wood. “If you’re jerking your dick, better put it up. Cuz I’m coming in!”

He entered the room like Kramer sliding into Jerry’s apartment, blew a stream of smoke into it like a dragon’s warning, but found himself greeted with mounds of dirty clothing, untied bags of trash, and a set of blankets lying on the floor.

Jesus, he at least made an attempt to clean up in the living room.

Todd turned back and inspected the room he’d just left; it was obvious Chris had cleaned up in a hurry, probably not a minute after their phone conversation. Dried-up and stale bits of food were embedded in the carpet along with dark stains and bits of paper and Styrofoam. Chris’s tool belt lay on the counter, each tool with drips of dried white paint here and there.

“I don’t think he’s here,” Paul said.

“You fucking think so? You’re amazing, Pete. Really you are.”

The man smiled and Todd rolled his eyes, took another hit without offering the driver any. He glanced up at Paul and noted the antsy look in his eye, the licking of lips.

“Sir…can I…uh…”

“Can you what?” Todd enjoyed the drip as he tossed the cigarette into the kitchen sink and turned the water on for a quick second to extinguish it.

What sounded like a scream exploded from the apartment beneath them. Even with the music booming endlessly, the scream sliced through it like a scalpel. And beneath that…

Was that a roar?

The lyrics of the song came through the floor, and Todd shook his head, wiped at his nose.

“I’ll fuck you in the ass while I’m slitting your throat! Take yo’ mama to the river, see how far she can float!”

Todd shuddered, and when he glanced at Paul, he caught just a hint of head-nodding. “Please don’t tell me you listen to this shit.”

“No, I mean…no.”

“Let’s go. If I have to stay here and listen to that any longer, I might slit my
own
throat.”

***

After shoving two bookcases in front of the door, Chris and Spade pushed the bed until it was tight against the blockade they’d created.

The door shook in its frame, and giggles, moans, and roars sounded off from the other side of it.

“Spaaay-aaade. Come out and plaaay-aaay.”

“The Master is coming for you, Spade. And before he’s through, the whole world will swim in blackness.”

The voices of the demons continued as they whispered and sung their mocking comments through the door, some reaching fingers and claws into the space beneath it.

Chris backed away from the bed, the comforter white with a black spade pattern. Spade stayed at his spot, stared at the door as his head shook slowly. He whimpered, buried his face into the bed.

“Hey, man,” Chris said, grabbing Spade by the shoulder.

Spade jumped, screamed, turned to face Chris with wide eyes and fistfuls of blanket. “Don’t fuckin’ sneak up on me…
shit.
”

“I’m…I’m the only other motherfucker in the room! Why are these fucking satanic…demon…things after you? What did you do, man?” Chris looked around the room and didn’t see a way out: not even a window. The door slammed against the frame, over and over, the scraping of talons and nails and fangs sending tremors across his flesh. Fresh blood continued to leak from his palms and into the bandages.

Spade collapsed to the floor. “I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

“You think so?”

“I didn’t know that nigga was…I mean, how the fuck was I s’posed to know he was some kind of…”

“Well that just fucking explains everything!”

“Fuck you, man. You don’t know shit. You don’t know what it’s like in the game. Gotta keep an image, can’t let nobody fuck with you. Niggas was tellin’ me about a dude slangin’ in my territory, I had to check his ass.”