“Mr. Jerkins?” Ethan asked as he sat to lace up the new boots.
“Yeah, he and his wife own this store…” Shannon trailed off as she realized that a memory had just broken through the wet velvet curtain and stumbled to a halt in front of her. She had worked here for many summers, the Jerkins had helped to send her off to college to get her degree in marketing, and that head on the front of the store was poor Mrs. Jerkins. “I worked here during the summer when I was in school…”
Ethan stopped lacing for a moment and looked at Shannon. Even with the bruise and the swollen lip, she was a lovely girl, much like Abby but just a measure more slender, more elegant than the tomboyish look Abby had worn. He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder.
She, in turn, looked at him through strands of fallen blonde hair and locked eyes. To Shannon, Ethan was an attractive, if not younger, guy. His eyes looked almost artificially green, theatrically intense, but deeply caring and intelligent. She smiled weakly at him, “I’m fine…I just knew these people, but didn’t know I knew them, you know?”
“Yeah, I understand; it’s okay. Your memory is coming back.”
“Soon, I hope. You almost done?”
“Yeah,” Ethan replied as he pulled the last boot on and began tying it.
“Hey kid, wanna see something really gross?” a gravelly voice asked. It was sinister, distant, and immediately recognizable to Ethan, even before he looked up.
He stilled his thundering heart as he brought his head up and looked past Shannon’s shoulder. There, just a few steps behind Shannon stood the obese, greasy bum, still in garbage-collected clothing, still with the stained brown fedora, still with the hideous skin affliction that made him seem as if hell spawned.
The grotesque homeless man began to chuckle deeply. “…and you thought you got rid of me with those stupid pills didn’t you?”
“Ethan?” Shannon asked, puzzlement etched around the swelling of her face.
Ethan swallowed hard, his mouth now much too dry. He knew fear, had known it since the bum first appeared, but that was over, done with, and gone. How could this thing be back, this creation of his own dark thoughts when the doctor had promised him banished? He was going mad, Ethan decided, but then again, he could still question his own sanity. Confusion swamped him for a moment, but he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, something darted between two isles at the far end of the store.
“Ethan?” Shannon asked again.
“There is something in here with us. I just saw it duck behind those shelves,” he whispered, his voice still shaking.
“We should go,” Shannon urged as she began to stand, her voice thick with fear.
“I think it was a child.” Ethan stood and began to walk toward the far side of the store.
“Ethan! Wait!” Shannon hissed.
Ethan raised his hand to her as a response and continued.
Shannon cursed softly and pulled free the pistol in her pocket as she followed him. “Ethan…” she hissed again.
“Well, hello there,” Ethan said pleasantly down one of the aisles. “No, wait, don’t run. I won’t hurt you! Shannon, it’s a little girl.”
“Where?” she asked as she began to jog toward him. “Is she hurt?”
“I can show you her insides…” the bum offered in a kind voice.
Ethan ran to the next aisle and disappeared behind the shelves. Shannon turned down the first aisle and rushed to the end. She could hear Ethan moving with her down the adjoining aisle. He was calling to the girl, coaxing her not to run away.
Shannon reached the end of the row at the same time as the little girl. She was no more than nine, wearing blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a bright pink jacket. Her face was a clay mask of fright, and she brandished a squirt bottle of some type of all-purpose cleaner like a gun. When she saw Shannon, her face twisted a bit tighter, and she released a sob of pure terror.
“Sweetie, we won’t hurt you. Ethan, slow down; you’re scaring her!” She stuffed the pistol back into her pocket, squatted down to the girl’s height, and offered her a hand. “It’s alright. Are you hurt?
“Leave me alone!” the girl screamed desperately.
“What’s your name, sweetie, huh? My name is Shannon. My friend over there is Ethan. We want to help you.”
The girl just stared at Shannon, her eyes impossibly large, her face quivering with fear.
“Please, sweetie, come here; I promise I won’t hurt you.”
The girl looked at Ethan once, then back to Shannon. She was so terribly scared, so innocence-shattered that Shannon felt a tear slip from her own eye. This poor little girl had survived a night that almost drove her insane. Shannon suddenly wondered if the brutal animals had raped the girl, raped as she was, and her heart twisted painfully. She no longer cared what was happening to her or to Ethan, what had happened to this town, or what evil had flooded into her life. All she cared about now was getting this little flower out of here and to some safe place, to wash away the horrors she must have survived last night, to ease them into those memories forgotten. She would do anything to keep this town from having her, and she began to weep softly her conviction.
The small child watched her a moment longer, unsure until the tears began to fall from the pretty woman’s eyes. The simple expression of emotion was well beyond the monstrosities she had seen and she ran to her. She fell into her arms, into her soft, warm chest, and cried in a way she had never cried before.
A second set of arms embraced her gently, but with more strength than the woman, and Kayla knew it was the man. He was there, enveloping both her and the woman in a protective way, as her father would have if he were still alive. Kayla sobbed for the relief, wept for the comfort of strangers, and cried for her lost parents.
'I can show you her liver, if ya want…'
Ethan realized that unlike before, the homeless man’s breath smelled horrible and he could feel it wash over his neck from behind.
Chapter 25
Stan climbed from the hammock and stood in the small room which he called the berthing compartment. The TV burst white static soundlessly, sparkling and jittering down the screen, a slow roll shattering the chaos of white noise. It had been less than a day, but he already felt so completely cut off, so starkly alone that he wanted to go to town and look for survivors.
He sat at the laptop, disrupted the screen saver, and called up the image from the telescope hidden on the roof. The thick bluish-gray fog still shielded his view of the town, keeping him from seeing the finer details. The orange glow was gone, so he reasoned the fires had burned themselves out or were put out by the volunteer fire department. The second was a much more comforting idea than the first.
Stan reasoned, though, that if the fire department had fought the fires, then they should be on the radio, or maybe even the cops. He lifted the small scanner and stared at its blank screen. Hope battled with loathing; Stan knew what he would hear if he turned the radio on, but he could not be sure. After many long moments, he turned the volume knob until it clicked. The numbers began to run through the preprogrammed channels without stopping. He watched this for many long moments before turning the volume up slowly. To his relief, the numbers did not stop indicating a channel.
He placed the radio on the counter next to the laptop and retrieved a pack of crackers from the cupboard. He opened them and began munching absent-mindedly, worrying over whether he should escape his self-imposed imprisonment and find out what really happened last night, see if this truly was the end of the world. The taste of mold grabbed the inside of his mouth and it squeezed his empty stomach violently. He spit the half-chewed crackers to the stainless steel counter and let the rest simply fall out of his opened mouth.
The packet of crackers was molded over, green, furry, and dark. He dropped the pack and worked the remains out of his mouth with a finger. As he did so, he opened the cabinet again and found most of the food had gone bad, either moldy or milky black. He had just stocked this food no more than a few months ago, and it should
