Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (53 page)

Drew
walked forward and stood above his friend. He kicked Brian in the groin and
then in the ribs. “This hurts me more than you can imagine, bro. I trusted you
with everything and you betrayed me. You’ve got to pay, and Gaki’s gotta eat.”

The
smile on Drew’s face brought Brian to tears. He thrashed in his shackles and
managed to moan “no” repeatedly through the haze of a broken jaw and
concussion.

Gaki
danced back and forth and hissed with anticipation. “Do it. Take your vengeance
from this worthless wretch.”

Drew
knelt down and looked one last time into the broken face of his best friend. He
caressed Brian’s cheek and wiped a final tear from his face.

Gaki
squealed through his thin mouth and danced amongst the dark walls of the cave. He
raised his arms in the air and looked at Drew.

Drew
placed both hands around Brian’s neck and saw the blood drain from his face as
he increased the pressure on his throat. He squeezed, feeling the spongy flesh
in his hands, dispelling the last vestiges of life. Brian gasped. He moved his
mouth in a vain attempt to capture a hint of oxygen. His eyes bulged from their
sockets and the skin on his face turned blue. Drew’s entire body shook. The
convulsions rippled through his arms and legs, and he was unsure if he could
finish the gruesome task. As the grip of his hands loosened, he saw Gaki’s
hands on top of his. He felt the power of the thin fingers bear down on Brian’s
neck, choking the last breath from his lungs. Brian’s movements ceased. His
mouth remained open.

“Have
at it,” Drew said to Gaki. The creature scuttled to Brian’s waste, where it
began consuming the final remains.

Drew
flopped backwards, the back of his head striking the wall of the cave with a
powerful thump. He lifted forward and then drove it backwards again. Several
more attempts made him drowsy, but he was unable to knock himself out. He
squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head between his knees in an attempt to
block out Gaki’s feast.

“Enough,”
he said. “We need to get to the park so I can fulfill my responsibility and
free my children.”

Gaki
snarled.

“Now!”
Drew shouted. He walked toward the creature until Gaki stood to face him. “I
let you have Brian. Finish what you must and get me to the park.”

“You
are in no position to make demands.”

“I’ll
do what I want,” replied Drew.

Gaki
kicked at Brian’s leg, rattling the shackles. Drew looked at the pile of flesh
that used to be his best friend and forced the bile from his throat.

“I
am finished,” said Gaki.

Drew
blinked and he was back in the driver’s seat of Brian’s Jeep. He heard sirens,
but they sounded distant, moving in the opposite direction. He did not
recognize the street they were on and saw no evidence of the reckless chase
interrupted by Gaki’s morbid feast.

“Where
are we?” he asked, looking in the rearview mirror into Gaki’s face. The
swirling mixture of blood and feces masked the creature’s gray complexion. It’s
thin, serpentine tongue shot out to lick its lips. Drew heaved but managed to
keep from vomiting.

“Other
side of park. Hide the vehicle. We have only minutes before we are discovered.”

Drew
slid the Jeep into gear and moved forward. The residential street wound through
turn-of-the-century houses. Ornate ironwork bordered front doors with
high-peaked eaves. The street was devoid of pedestrians and other traffic.

“Where
is everyone?” he asked. Gaki did not reply.

Drew
continued toward the end of the street, where he turned left at the stop sign. The
view greeted him with a row of magnificent oak trees wearing a hint of the
green buds that would soon sprout. A chain-link fence sat at the base of the
trunks. Bars of red and yellow broke through the leafless branches. Drew
realized he was at the back end of the park, facing it from the north side.

“How?”

“Get
out,” Gaki said.

Drew
pulled up to the curb, opened the door, and stood on the sidewalk littered with
the dirt, garbage, and the dead leaves of a long winter. He kicked a flattened
aluminum can into the chain-link fence and turned around to see Gaki standing
before him with his thin grin and tubular appendages. The Jeep was gone.

“Where
is it?” Drew asked.

“No
longer of use,” Gaki replied. The creature motioned toward the fence and the
park inside. “Go.”

“I
need a guarantee that our deal is good. If I kill her, my kids are free of the
curse.”

“Sealed,”
Gaki said.

He
grabbed Drew’s wrist and turned it to reveal the soft, white underside of his
forearm. Gaki slid his hand over Drew’s skin, the thin nail on the creature’s
finger slicing a fine wound in Drew’s arm. Bubbles of blood rose from the
surface. Gaki lifted the arm and held it over his own. He turned Drew’s upside
down. The blood gathered at the lowest point, releasing one drop onto Gaki’s
skin, where it sizzled. It opened a black hole and the smell of burning,
rotting flesh filled the air. Drew stepped back from the stench as Gaki writhed
in pain. The creature fell to the sidewalk and thrashed until the curling smoke
from his arm evaporated. Gaki stood and held his arm to Drew, a gaping, ragged
hole where his blood had seared through the creature’s flesh.

“Your
bloodline burns Gaki. Finish the woman and your children will be free.”

Drew
stood and shook his head. He wiped the blood from his arm, climbed over the
chain-link fence, and wove through the trunks of the ancient oaks until he
passed from Gaki’s view.

Drew
felt the branches crack beneath his feet. He had taken Billy and Sara to this
park many times, but he had never entered from the north side. It felt like
walking through a room in his house where the furniture had been rearranged. He
heard sirens in the distance, and wondered where Gaki had placed Brian’s Jeep
and how long it would take the police to find him. Drew pushed Brian’s memory
from his head and shook the worry of arrest from his mind. He focused on getting
to the place in the park where he would meet his wife. He doubled over and
collapsed under a tree, turning his head to the side and trying to vomit into a
pile of leaves and discarded beer cans. After several seconds of vertigo and a
burning sensation in his throat, he stood and grabbed hold of a sapling to keep
from falling again.

The
park appeared deserted. Drew did not see a jogger, a dog walker, or even a
squirrel. The few robins that had returned in late winter fluttered in the bare
branches but remained silent.
More like a cemetery than a park,
he
thought.

Drew
found the asphalt walking path that meandered through the park, usually full of
Rollerbladers and skateboarders. Again, the vast emptiness of life in the park
made him shudder. Drew picked up the path going east that would eventually lead
to the meeting place. He visualized the cabin in his mind. He thought back to
the first time he had been in the park. Drew took a moment to read the placard,
the one declaring the cabin a national historic monument. Several pioneers used
the structure for three years as they moved across the Midwest toward the
ultimate Garden of Eden, California.

As
the inscription indicated, four families had used the one-room structure, and
they had buried five children during their stay. He felt a tug at his heart and
quickly banished it. If he was to save his own he could not become emotional
about them. The hearth in the cabin held relics and replicas of the simple
tools of survival the pioneers had used. Drew had stood inside it while a man
from the local historical society explained the tale. His trip with Billy’s
class—his first experience inside the cabin—and all the others melded together
into a blurred memory of time and space. Drew shook his head and realized he
had not taken a step during the daydream. He shoved his hands into his pockets
and continued on the asphalt path leading closer to the cabin.

Chapter 14

Molly
looked in the mirror while sitting at the red light. The near side of forty
crept around the corners of her eyes. She looked down at the ring finger on her
right hand and the glowing, white ring of skin near the knuckle. She held it up
to her face as if the ring would reappear. It did not. She fixed her hair and
redistributed the lip gloss with a quick pucker. As Molly drove for the park,
she replayed the conversation with Brian in her head for the fourth time.

“Shit!
It’s not on my finger.”

“I’ve
got it in my hand,” Brian said.

“Did
I leave it at your place?”

“I
know! Crazy, right? I had no idea the ring was yours when I found it in the
bowling alley.”

“What’s
going on, Brian?”

“I
was about to call the desk manager, but then I recognized the engraving on the
inside. It had to be yours.”

“He’s
there, isn’t he? Drew is with you.”

“Of
course,” Brian said. “I always take East 112
^th
Street home from the
alley.”

“Are
you in trouble? Has he lost his mind?”

“Right!
People lose things all the time. How about I meet you at Centennial Park?”

“Is
he going to be with you? Does he know about us?”

“I’m
pretty sure it will,” replied Brian. “So you might want to bring an umbrella.”

“Don’t
do anything stupid,” she said.

“Great.
See you there in about thirty minutes.”

Molly
turned right. She flipped the windshield wipers up to medium speed as the early
spring rain pelted the window with teardrops. She turned on her headlights,
which cast a glimmer off the wet road like a sheet of fresh ice. At the next
stoplight, Molly opened her purse. She had her wallet, a container of tissues,
her makeup, and her phone. She hit the button on the trunk release and flung
the door open. Her foot slid on the slick pavement and she held a hand over her
head to prevent the rain from completely destroying her hair. As she reached
the rear of the vehicle, she shuffled through the papers and empty bottles of
windshield-washer fluid until she spotted the tire iron nestled in the corner,
sitting on the flap that hid the spare tire. Molly grabbed the cold, metallic
wrench and looked at it.

“If
it comes to that,” she mumbled as her left hand slammed the trunk closed.

The
light turned green as she stepped into the car and the line of vehicles nudged
her with blaring car horns. Molly’s purse came alive with the sound of “It’s a
Small World.” Drew hated that ringtone. She fished a hand inside, flipping the
phone open and putting it to her ear in one motion.

“Yeah?”

“Hey,
Moll.”

“Hi,
Mom. You got the kids?”

“Yes,
hon. What’s this all about? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,
Mom. I’m fine. What are Billy and Sara doing?”

“Well,”
said Molly’s mother, her voice trailing as her mouth moved away from the phone
for a second. “Billy is doing his homework and Sara is watching television.”

“Thirty
minutes. That’s all. Any more and she starts living in her own fantasy world.”

“Stop
worrying, Moll. They’re fine.”

“And
no cookies. It’ll spoil their dinner.” Molly waited, hearing her mother
breathing but not responding.

“Mom!”

“I
just gave them a small plate. What are grandmothers good for if they can’t
spoil the grandkids?”

Molly
hissed and shook her head. “Mom, if I’m not there in an hour, call the police. Tell
them I was at Centennial Park.”

“You’re
worrying me. I’m calling your father—”

“Listen!
I can handle this. Don’t get Dad involved. You know somebody would end up with
a bullet hole in the chest. Please, do this for me.”

Molly’s
mother paused. Molly could hear the cartoons coming from the television in the
background.

“She
gets one more episode of SpongeBob. That’s it.”

“Are
you sure you’re not in trouble, Moll?”

“I’m
fine. I’ll be there in an hour or less. Tell the kids I love them and I’ll see
you soon.”

“Is
it Drew? If you’re going to meet him I’m calling the police. The news is saying
he’s killed three people and that he’s dangerous.”

Molly
swallowed. “I’m not meeting Drew. I need to get something from a friend. If
Drew shows up at the house, call the police. Don’t let the kids out of your
sight.”

“You
don’t have to tell me. I’ll dial nine and a one and wait for him to show up.”

“That
was not funny,” Molly said while smiling, “when Chris Rock said it fifteen
years ago. And Drew’s not black.”

“Get
here quickly, sweetie. The whole situation has everyone jittery.”

“Thanks,
Mom. I love you.”

“I
love you too, Molls.”

The
line went dead. Molly flipped the phone shut with one hand and tossed it back
into her purse. She had made three turns during the conversation and could see
the wrought-iron fence of Centennial Park at the end of the block.

The
rain turned from a pelting storm to a consistent, miserable downpour. She
looked at the cars parked at the curb. Two sat with white papers flittering
underneath windshield wipers, probably heading to the impound lot soon. Another
pulled away from the curb and reentered traffic. No sign of Brian’s Jeep. Molly
saw the gate open on one side, the other side still locked in place. She zipped
up her purse and pulled her hoodie over the top of her head.
So much for the
hair
, she thought, angry that she still cared how she looked for Brian.

She
turned the ignition off and sat in the solitude of the car, listening to the
ping of the engine and the thunderous tapping of the rain on the metal roof. Molly
heard her mother’s voice in her head and felt the unmistakable knot in her
stomach that served as an internal alarm, the sense of danger all humans come
to recognize innately. She opened the car door and stood. The rain pounded her
body, drenching her to the core in seconds. She slammed the car door shut and
used her remote to lock it. The parking lights flashed, answering her command
while the double chirp was lost in the cacophony of water falling from the
heavens. Molly pulled up her shirt up and shoved the end of the tire iron into
the waistband of her jeans. The cold, greasy feel of the tool made her shiver.
She pulled her shirt back down to hide the slight bulge.