| Horror and Thriller Fiction posted May 20, 2023 |
  |
Some violence here - not vivid enough for a warning
Marcie and Maxx
by DeboraDyess
Final Girl (or Guy) Contest Winner
"You're gonna be the death of me, Maxx!" Marcie opened the door to let the pup out into the backyard. He dashed past her and into the sunset just as it began to touch the yard with its pink and purple fingers of light.
As it turned out, he saved her.
Had she not been in the backyard, surrounded by the five-foot-high chain link fence they'd installed to keep him in, she knew she would have died that day. But Maxx, the pup that Bryan insisted they own 'for the kids' needed out, and no one else was home.
"Let's go, you little pain in the neck," she said as she opened the back door. Unlike other days, she'd stepped outside and pulled it shut behind her. Amy Dwight, the mom responsible for car pool that week, pulled up beside the house, right on schedule, and Caleb and Wendy jumped out of the car, waving as their friends disappeared down the road. Marcie called that she'd be inside in a few minutes to start dinner.
Wendy waved as she ran to the front of the house. "Cheer practice was awesome, Mom. I'm getting a snack, Mom! See you in a few!"
The spunky 11-year-old disappeared inside before Marcie could ask her about her day. Opportunity lost.
Caleb slowed and walked to the fence, leaning his tall frame into his forearms, which he draped across the top crossbar. "Want me to come and take over? I know you're not as crazy about Maxx as I am."
She smiled. She would've said yes and traded places with her son but his face, still red and sweat-covered from baseball practice, seemed to beg for a different answer. "Tell you what, love... Get something to eat and get cooled off. You can take him for his evening walk. Sound okay?"
Caleb gave her a hug over the fence rail. "Thanks."
Marcie pushed a strand of dark hair from his face. "How was practice?"
"Coach Wood hates me." Caleb shrugged. "He says I have the least talent of any athlete he's seen in three decades. I guess I'll just have to show him he's wrong."
"That's my guy. Way to hang in there."
"I learned everything about hanging in there from you." He walked toward the front door to let himself into the cool of the AC and the abundance of snack food in the kitchen.
It was the last conversation she'd have with either of her children. Had she known, had she understood, it would have been different. Instead, she regretted it for the rest of her life.
The sun had begun to paint the sky with wide strokes of a pastel palette that West Texas skies were famous for having. A few more minutes and she'd go in, but this was her favorite part of the day and she hadn't enjoyed it in far too long. The neighbors would be out walking soon. Old Mr. McGwen, leaning heavily on his cane and his grown daughter, Natalie; the Buffington boys headed for the basketball hoops down at the park; Elizabeth, who loved to come to the fence and share tips about gardening; Susanna, always pushing her tiny newborn in a stroller, a sweet young mom who waved and said 'howdy' to her in the cutest Georgian accent. She stroked Maxx as she stood watching evening steal the light of day.
As predicted, the McGwens stepped outside first. Marcie smiled and raised a hand.
And froze.
Something was wrong -- terribly, horribly wrong. At first, Marcie wasn't sure what it was but, as she stepped closer to the tall chainlink fence to get a closer look, Mr. McGwen dropped his cane and started toward her. His eyes, always a bright, lively blue, had turned black. Dark circles of red and gray surrounded them. His skin looked mottled and yellow. He snarled, pulling his lips back from his teeth like a rabid dog. There was something about his mouth... Was that blood?
Natalie tried to push past him, almost jogging toward Marcie, teeth bared. But her father grabbed her by the shoulders, violently threw her to the ground and...
He bit her! The words stuck in Marcie's mind as she stared in horror at the sight before her. The old man sat astride his child, beating her, grabbing hands and fingers, and biting with more strength than she imagined he had in his whole being. The middle-aged woman fought back, striking, trying to roll out from under him, kicking. When Natalie stopped moving, he raised his face to the setting sun and howled. The sound made Marcie's skin cold. Goosebumps of terror jumped from her smooth skin and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Maxx, who barked at every passing car, bird and neighbor, tucked his tail and stepped quietly away from the fence. He cowered beside Marcie, retreating with her as she began to backstep into the middle of the yard.
Old Mr. McGwen advanced toward her, grinning and growling like a mad beast. It wasn't blood on his mouth, Marcie saw, but a thick, black ooze. Even from across the street, she imagined she could smell the stink of it.
Everything happened at once then. As McGwen grabbed her fence and began to shake it, trying to pull it down to get to her, a group of boys, the Buffington brothers included, shuffled toward the park. It was hard to tell in the growing darkness, but Marcie thought they had the same weird skin and eyes as the old man, the same dark, vile-smelling rancor coming from their mouths and noses. Upon seeing and hearing McGwen, the group ran with missteps and stumbled toward him. He turned, roaring in anger, and dove into the pack. Susanna, no baby in sight, joined the malay, screeching hatred and hunger as she ran into one of the boys. He turned and ripped at her face. The injuries, which should have been painful enough to stop her friends in their tracks, had no affect.
Bryan pulled up to the front of the house then. Marcie screamed his name, trying to warn him, trying to find rescue, but he ambled like a black-eyed, bloody drunken man to the front door.
"No!" Marcie screamed. She raced toward their home, imagining her children, waiting for their dad to enter the house with smiles and hugs, as they had from their earliest days. "Caleb! Lock the door! Don't let your dad inside! Caleb! Wendy!" She ran to the back door and threw it open. Bryan was already inside. He had Wendy and Caleb both in his iron grasp. Marcie watched, stunned and frozen, as he tore at their flesh. Both were already covered in blood and goo. Anguish tore their names from her throat but that only drew Bryan's attention to her. Wendy, limp and white in her father's hand, didn't move but Caleb looked at her with the same black hatred and unknowing eyes as her husband and the group outside.
Maxx cut between her and her family, pushing her backward. She pulled the door shut as she allowed him to direct her to the middle of the yard. She saw Bryan in the window overlooking their playscape, their safe place, the place they'd had birthday parties and bar-b-ques. He looked yellow, black-eyed, and slack-jawed. A piece of his cheek was gone but instead of blood flowing freely from a wound that size, the black stuff oozed. He reached for the doorknob and Marcie tried to decide whether to run into the alley, where no one who'd been infected with this... Was it a disease? Where no one waited to grab her. But the doorknob jiggled and she watched as Bryan hit it, much like Caleb had as a toddler when he wanted to slide or play in the baby pool. Her husband screeched and hit the glass of the window. Marcie cringed, waiting for the crashing of glass but nothing happened. He didn't strike it again. Was he too weak? All the strength seemed to be gone from him.
Or maybe, Marcie thought as she watched Caleb join him at the window, black goo slowly running down his chin, it was the ability to reason, to problem-solve even the most simple task. Caleb snapped at his father and Bryan bared his teeth, showing bits of Wendy's pink tee shirt and flesh in his mouth.
Marcie put her hands over her mouth and turned away. Tears fell on the green lawn and onto her puppy. Maxx stood beside her, leaning into the comfort of her warm body. He stiffened suddenly, unexpectedly, and Marcie turned to the fence.
More of the neighbors-turned-monsters had migrated there, shuffling, fighting, staring at her with eyes filled with anger and a strange, frightening hunger. They moaned in constant, disharmonic chorus, never stopping.
The house stood on a corner, one street running in front of their home and one beside it.
As darkness thickened the air around them, the neighborhood turned into a scene from a horror movie, from a Stephen King novel, from a nightmare. Screams broke into the Texas heat, raising more of a sweat on Marcie's back and underarms and chest than any heatwave.
The street had filled with monsters now. One of the Buffington boys, unable to pull the fence down, had begun a clumsy attempt at climbing. She didn't think he could make it but realized others might accidentally shove him over. Like Bryan, they didn't seem to be able to move with intent, coordination, or planning. Reason seemed to have disappeared from them. But a mistake could cost her everything she had left - her life. and her dog
She ran to the shed, threw the door open, and flicked the light switch, glad that Bryan hadn't listened to her complaints about the expense of running electricity to the small building. The LED bulb vomited light into the yard, almost to the fright-fest in the street. Marcie grabbed the axe and dashed to the fence.
Her haste sent the creatures into a frenzy. She imagined herself trapped in that crowd, imagined McGwen and the others ripping her to shreds. She swung the axe into the Buffington boy's chest. Black bubbles exploded along the injury. He fell backward into the waiting arms of his companions.
Waiting, she thought, but not to help, not to comfort. The boy disappeared into the middle of a circle of them and she backed away to the sound of tearing and crunching.
She fought the urge to throw up, to lose every bit of food in her system. Running back to the shed, she called Maxx and cut the light off, hoping to hide in the dark. They cowered there, she and the dog, for hours, watching Bryan and Caleb in the light of the living room. They stood like statues. Were they even breathing? Marcie couldn't tell.
Marcie crept forward and entered the house when Caleb wandered away from the window, leaving only Bryan silhouetted in the living room light. She swung the axe with all her might into the man she'd loved her whole adult life and he fell, unmoving. She felt her composure collapsing, her heart crumbling into more sorrow than she thought possible. But then Caleb came around the corner of the couch, his hands outstretched, his mouth open.
A second before she swung her weapon again, she considered the possibility of backing out, of letting her son live. But this was not her son. As the axe made contact, she knew that Caleb was already gone.
The house provided more safety and, after pulling the bodies of her husband, son, and daughter to the part of the yard farthest from the house, she gave in to grief. Collapsing on to her bed, holding Maxx close to her, she sobbed into his fur, shaking until her muscles hurt and she had no more tears to shed. The madness outside the house had only grown. She recognized more and more of the people on the street. All had been infected..
As the sun rose to bring to light the horror of the night before, it occurred to her that others might still be alive, that not everyone would have fallen victim to this . She grabbed her cell phone and began to dial.
Listening to the hollow rings on the 911 line, Marcie wondered that she hadn't heard sirens. No police, EMS, or fire trucks had interrupted the craziness of the night and none showed up with the dawn. She tried her mother, her grandfather, Bryan's parents and three sisters, the church, all of her friends, the grocery store, the WalMart, the mall... No one answered. Phone books seemed to be a thing of the past but she dialed random numbers in her area code. No one answered.
She was truly alone.
She began to take inventory of her situation. She had a couple of days of food. The dog food was almost gone. In the world she'd inhabited yesterday, today would be shopping day. But that world had disappeared at sunset and she couldn't imagine it coming back. A trip to the yard showed her that the garden wouldn't produce anything for another couple of weeks and then only a few vegetables that she and Wendy planted. She tried the phone again - still no answer, no matter how many numbers she tried.
Looking at the houses around her, Marcie tried to imagine fighting her way past the hundreds of creatures that now seemed to surround her house. There would be food in those houses, she knew. But could she fight her way from house to house with just an axe, saving her and Maxx against the horde of monsters? She thought of Caleb's last words to her: I learned everything about hanging in there from you. Her head began to move slowly back and forth. Not like this, Caleb. Not like this...
Was she the last person? How long could she last without some kind of help? "How will anyone even know where to find us, Maxx?" she asked the pup aloud.
He watched her, his dark, intelligent eyes trying to understand.
"I can't feed us, boy... I'm not sure what to do."
The thought of dying slowly, of starving to death or being assaulted by monsters that managed to get past the fence or through a door or window nagged at her. She couldn't stand it anymore.
She ran her finger along the sharp edge of the axe.
"You're gonna be the death of me, Maxx!" Marcie opened the door to let the pup out into the backyard. He dashed past her and into the sunset just as it began to touch the yard with its pink and purple fingers of light.
As it turned out, he saved her.
Had she not been in the backyard, surrounded by the five-foot-high chain link fence they'd installed to keep him in, she knew she would have died that day. But Maxx, the pup that Bryan insisted they own 'for the kids' needed out, and no one else was home.
"Let's go, you little pain in the neck," she said as she opened the back door. Unlike other days, she'd stepped outside and pulled it shut behind her. Amy Dwight, the mom responsible for car pool that week, pulled up beside the house, right on schedule, and Caleb and Wendy jumped out of the car, waving as their friends disappeared down the road. Marcie called that she'd be inside in a few minutes to start dinner.
Wendy waved as she ran to the front of the house. "Cheer practice was awesome, Mom. I'm getting a snack, Mom! See you in a few!"
The spunky 11-year-old disappeared inside before Marcie could ask her about her day. Opportunity lost.
Caleb slowed and walked to the fence, leaning his tall frame into his forearms, which he draped across the top crossbar. "Want me to come and take over? I know you're not as crazy about Maxx as I am."
She smiled. She would've said yes and traded places with her son but his face, still red and sweat-covered from baseball practice, seemed to beg for a different answer. "Tell you what, love... Get something to eat and get cooled off. You can take him for his evening walk. Sound okay?"
Caleb gave her a hug over the fence rail. "Thanks."
Marcie pushed a strand of dark hair from his face. "How was practice?"
"Coach Wood hates me." Caleb shrugged. "He says I have the least talent of any athlete he's seen in three decades. I guess I'll just have to show him he's wrong."
"That's my guy. Way to hang in there."
"I learned everything about hanging in there from you." He walked toward the front door to let himself into the cool of the AC and the abundance of snack food in the kitchen.
It was the last conversation she'd have with either of her children. Had she known, had she understood, it would have been different. Instead, she regretted it for the rest of her life.
The sun had begun to paint the sky with wide strokes of a pastel palette that West Texas skies were famous for having. A few more minutes and she'd go in, but this was her favorite part of the day and she hadn't enjoyed it in far too long. The neighbors would be out walking soon. Old Mr. McGwen, leaning heavily on his cane and his grown daughter, Natalie; the Buffington boys headed for the basketball hoops down at the park; Elizabeth, who loved to come to the fence and share tips about gardening; Susanna, always pushing her tiny newborn in a stroller, a sweet young mom who waved and said 'howdy' to her in the cutest Georgian accent. She stroked Maxx as she stood watching evening steal the light of day.
As predicted, the McGwens stepped outside first. Marcie smiled and raised a hand.
And froze.
Something was wrong -- terribly, horribly wrong. At first, Marcie wasn't sure what it was but, as she stepped closer to the tall chainlink fence to get a closer look, Mr. McGwen dropped his cane and started toward her. His eyes, always a bright, lively blue, had turned black. Dark circles of red and gray surrounded them. His skin looked mottled and yellow. He snarled, pulling his lips back from his teeth like a rabid dog. There was something about his mouth... Was that blood?
Natalie tried to push past him, almost jogging toward Marcie, teeth bared. But her father grabbed her by the shoulders, violently threw her to the ground and...
He bit her! The words stuck in Marcie's mind as she stared in horror at the sight before her. The old man sat astride his child, beating her, grabbing hands and fingers, and biting with more strength than she imagined he had in his whole being. The middle-aged woman fought back, striking, trying to roll out from under him, kicking. When Natalie stopped moving, he raised his face to the setting sun and howled. The sound made Marcie's skin cold. Goosebumps of terror jumped from her smooth skin and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.
Maxx, who barked at every passing car, bird and neighbor, tucked his tail and stepped quietly away from the fence. He cowered beside Marcie, retreating with her as she began to backstep into the middle of the yard.
Old Mr. McGwen advanced toward her, grinning and growling like a mad beast. It wasn't blood on his mouth, Marcie saw, but a thick, black ooze. Even from across the street, she imagined she could smell the stink of it.
Everything happened at once then. As McGwen grabbed her fence and began to shake it, trying to pull it down to get to her, a group of boys, the Buffington brothers included, shuffled toward the park. It was hard to tell in the growing darkness, but Marcie thought they had the same weird skin and eyes as the old man, the same dark, vile-smelling rancor coming from their mouths and noses. Upon seeing and hearing McGwen, the group ran with missteps and stumbled toward him. He turned, roaring in anger, and dove into the pack. Susanna, no baby in sight, joined the malay, screeching hatred and hunger as she ran into one of the boys. He turned and ripped at her face. The injuries, which should have been painful enough to stop her friends in their tracks, had no affect.
Bryan pulled up to the front of the house then. Marcie screamed his name, trying to warn him, trying to find rescue, but he ambled like a black-eyed, bloody drunken man to the front door.
"No!" Marcie screamed. She raced toward their home, imagining her children, waiting for their dad to enter the house with smiles and hugs, as they had from their earliest days. "Caleb! Lock the door! Don't let your dad inside! Caleb! Wendy!" She ran to the back door and threw it open. Bryan was already inside. He had Wendy and Caleb both in his iron grasp. Marcie watched, stunned and frozen, as he tore at their flesh. Both were already covered in blood and goo. Anguish tore their names from her throat but that only drew Bryan's attention to her. Wendy, limp and white in her father's hand, didn't move but Caleb looked at her with the same black hatred and unknowing eyes as her husband and the group outside.
Maxx cut between her and her family, pushing her backward. She pulled the door shut as she allowed him to direct her to the middle of the yard. She saw Bryan in the window overlooking their playscape, their safe place, the place they'd had birthday parties and bar-b-ques. He looked yellow, black-eyed, and slack-jawed. A piece of his cheek was gone but instead of blood flowing freely from a wound that size, the black stuff oozed. He reached for the doorknob and Marcie tried to decide whether to run into the alley, where no one who'd been infected with this... Was it a disease? Where no one waited to grab her. But the doorknob jiggled and she watched as Bryan hit it, much like Caleb had as a toddler when he wanted to slide or play in the baby pool. Her husband screeched and hit the glass of the window. Marcie cringed, waiting for the crashing of glass but nothing happened. He didn't strike it again. Was he too weak? All the strength seemed to be gone from him.
Or maybe, Marcie thought as she watched Caleb join him at the window, black goo slowly running down his chin, it was the ability to reason, to problem-solve even the most simple task. Caleb snapped at his father and Bryan bared his teeth, showing bits of Wendy's pink tee shirt and flesh in his mouth.
Marcie put her hands over her mouth and turned away. Tears fell on the green lawn and onto her puppy. Maxx stood beside her, leaning into the comfort of her warm body. He stiffened suddenly, unexpectedly, and Marcie turned to the fence.
More of the neighbors-turned-monsters had migrated there, shuffling, fighting, staring at her with eyes filled with anger and a strange, frightening hunger. They moaned in constant, disharmonic chorus, never stopping.
The house stood on a corner, one street running in front of their home and one beside it.
As darkness thickened the air around them, the neighborhood turned into a scene from a horror movie, from a Stephen King novel, from a nightmare. Screams broke into the Texas heat, raising more of a sweat on Marcie's back and underarms and chest than any heatwave.
The street had filled with monsters now. One of the Buffington boys, unable to pull the fence down, had begun a clumsy attempt at climbing. She didn't think he could make it but realized others might accidentally shove him over. Like Bryan, they didn't seem to be able to move with intent, coordination, or planning. Reason seemed to have disappeared from them. But a mistake could cost her everything she had left - her life. and her dogShe ran to the shed, threw the door open, and flicked the light switch, glad that Bryan hadn't listened to her complaints about the expense of running electricity to the small building. The LED bulb vomited light into the yard, almost to the fright-fest in the street. Marcie grabbed the axe and dashed to the fence.
Her haste sent the creatures into a frenzy. She imagined herself trapped in that crowd, imagined McGwen and the others ripping her to shreds. She swung the axe into the Buffington boy's chest. Black bubbles exploded along the injury. He fell backward into the waiting arms of his companions.
Waiting, she thought, but not to help, not to comfort. The boy disappeared into the middle of a circle of them and she backed away to the sound of tearing and crunching.
She fought the urge to throw up, to lose every bit of food in her system. Running back to the shed, she called Maxx and cut the light off, hoping to hide in the dark. They cowered there, she and the dog, for hours, watching Bryan and Caleb in the light of the living room. They stood like statues. Were they even breathing? Marcie couldn't tell.
Marcie crept forward and entered the house when Caleb wandered away from the window, leaving only Bryan silhouetted in the living room light. She swung the axe with all her might into the man she'd loved her whole adult life and he fell, unmoving. She felt her composure collapsing, her heart crumbling into more sorrow than she thought possible. But then Caleb came around the corner of the couch, his hands outstretched, his mouth open.
A second before she swung her weapon again, she considered the possibility of backing out, of letting her son live. But this was not her son. As the axe made contact, she knew that Caleb was already gone.
The house provided more safety and, after pulling the bodies of her husband, son, and daughter to the part of the yard farthest from the house, she gave in to grief. Collapsing on to her bed, holding Maxx close to her, she sobbed into his fur, shaking until her muscles hurt and she had no more tears to shed. The madness outside the house had only grown. She recognized more and more of the people on the street. All had been infected..
As the sun rose to bring to light the horror of the night before, it occurred to her that others might still be alive, that not everyone would have fallen victim to this . She grabbed her cell phone and began to dial.
Listening to the hollow rings on the 911 line, Marcie wondered that she hadn't heard sirens. No police, EMS, or fire trucks had interrupted the craziness of the night and none showed up with the dawn. She tried her mother, her grandfather, Bryan's parents and three sisters, the church, all of her friends, the grocery store, the WalMart, the mall... No one answered. Phone books seemed to be a thing of the past but she dialed random numbers in her area code. No one answered.
She was truly alone.
She began to take inventory of her situation. She had a couple of days of food. The dog food was almost gone. In the world she'd inhabited yesterday, today would be shopping day. But that world had disappeared at sunset and she couldn't imagine it coming back. A trip to the yard showed her that the garden wouldn't produce anything for another couple of weeks and then only a few vegetables that she and Wendy planted. She tried the phone again - still no answer, no matter how many numbers she tried.
Looking at the houses around her, Marcie tried to imagine fighting her way past the hundreds of creatures that now seemed to surround her house. There would be food in those houses, she knew. But could she fight her way from house to house with just an axe, saving her and Maxx against the horde of monsters? She thought of Caleb's last words to her: I learned everything about hanging in there from you. Her head began to move slowly back and forth. Not like this, Caleb. Not like this...
Was she the last person? How long could she last without some kind of help? "How will anyone even know where to find us, Maxx?" she asked the pup aloud.
He watched her, his dark, intelligent eyes trying to understand.
"I can't feed us, boy... I'm not sure what to do."
The thought of dying slowly, of starving to death or being assaulted by monsters that managed to get past the fence or through a door or window nagged at her. She couldn't stand it anymore.
She ran her finger along the sharp edge of the axe.
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Word count - 2432
Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm an overachiever...
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Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm an overachiever...
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