Apocalypstick (3 page)

As I drifted to sleep, I thought about the pretty lady of the
house on Maple Drive. She seemed to love her husband, and despite the fact that
she acted like a filthy whore, he seemed to love her, too. She was probably
seducing him at that moment.

I never got past the foyer at the open house, but I could picture
their bedroom easily enough. Their king sized bed was dressed with a pretty
comforter and pillows, and the huge bathroom had a garden tub. The air was still
steamy from the shower, and David sat on the bed, barely covered by an untied
silk robe.

The pretty lady stalked out of the walk-in closet wearing pajamas
from Hookers-R-Us that didn’t cover anything.

“What do you think?” she asks him, standing in the doorway with her
arms up over her head.

“Mrs. Keaton! I think I’m going to need some extra help after
class,” David says.

A whining noise comes from the other side of the closed bedroom
door. Shirley must know what her masters are up to, and is trying to save them
from their depravity.

“Shirley! Stop it!” David yells. “Shelia, don’t let her in.”

So that’s her name. Shelia.

Sheila opens the door, and David falls back on the bed, annoyed.
Shirley spins around in a circle by the door, and runs back downstairs with a
peculiar whine.

“She needs to go out, honey,” Shelia says. “Hurry. I promise
I’ll make it worth your while when you come back up.”

I could practically sense Shirley’s anger at her master. Every
dog wants a good master, not a depraved pervert. I pictured what might happen
if Shirley realized her master was a bad man who wanted to hurt her.

David opens the sliding back door. “Come on, girl. Out you go.”
But Shirley doesn’t go out. She growls at David, and lunges at him. Her teeth rip
the skin on his hand, and then she runs out the back door, across the yard, and
through a hole under the fence.

“Dammit!” David yells, “Shirley! Get back here!”

Shelia runs down the stairs to see what’s going on.

“David! You’re bleeding! What happened?” Shelia cries, grabbing
a towel and wrapping it tight around his hand. She pulls the loose silk tie
from around his waist and ties the cloth in place. She is still mostly naked,
and now David’s blood is on her new pajamas.

I woke up from my dream and sat up in bed. Even though I was
still dressed, my wicked part had a mind of its own. I pounded my fist into my
groin as hard as I could. I saw stars from the pain, and curled into a fetal
ball. I cried myself to sleep, and thankfully didn’t have any more dreams.

#

I woke up early the next morning, at least I hoped it was the
next morning, ate some scrambled eggs and a dry muffin at the buffet, and climbed
into the van. At around seven o’clock, I found myself back at the quarry. I
stood on the edge again, looking down, but with the sun still low on the
horizon, the pit looked like a dark, bottomless hole.

I sat down and dangled my legs over the side. My leg burned, my
body ached, and I just wanted to go home. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine
what David and Shelia were doing, but I couldn’t concentrate.

Forcing the pain out of my mind, I remembered the feeling of
David’s soft cashmere jacket. It took me back to the moment when I opened that
closet and saw the treasures of their normal life. It was like I was back in
the foyer.

“No,” David’s voice says from the kitchen. “She’s not out there.
Poor girl. What could have gotten into her? She just went crazy. I hope it’s
not distemper, or something.”

Shelia comes down the stairs wearing grey running shorts and a
tight pink shirt. “She’s had her shots. I’m going to jog around the
neighborhood and look for her. Can you make a couple of passes on your way to
work?”

David hugs her. “Yeah, I have a meeting with the concrete guys
at ten, but I should still have enough time to prepare. Don’t worry. She’s a
smart dog. She’ll probably find us before we find her.”

Shelia nods, but doesn’t look convinced. “Good luck today,” she
says.

“You, too,” he says back. He kisses her goodbye and goes out
through the garage.

He backs the truck down to the street and starts driving slowly
around the block. I wondered why he wasn’t going to the quarry. It was a
perfect place for a run-away dog to go. There might even be someone there who could
help find her. David thinks so too. He turns the truck around and leaves the
neighborhood.

A few minutes later, I heard his wheels grinding down the gravel
road. He stopped next to the van and walked over to me.

“Morning,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder at him, still sitting on the edge.
“Hi,” I said with a little wave.

“Are you alright, Pal?”

Did he really care if I was alright?

“My leg hurts,” I said.

“Here, let me help you up. Can you stand?”

I nodded, and he pulled me to my feet. It was nice of him. He
was very handsome in person. He smelled good, too. Not perfumy, but nice in a
manly way.

“I’m looking for my dog. She’s about fifteen pounds, brown curly
hair. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

I smiled and nodded. David seemed like a really nice person. He
was just the sort of person I wished I could be.

“Shirley’s down there,” I said, pointing to the bottom of the
quarry. “I’ve been watching her.”

“Oh, that’s such a relief,” he sighed. “It’s weird, you know? I just
knew I’d find her here.” He stepped up next to me and scanned the dark pit for
Shirley, but after a couple of seconds, he took a sideways step away, and turned
to face me.

“I didn’t say her name, friend,” he said, suddenly very serious.
He looked back at the van, and I knew he recognized it. “You were outside my
house yesterday. What are you doing here with my dog, and how do you know her
name?”

I bowed my head. He was so nice a minute ago, now he was really
mad. Why did nice people always get so mad at me? Why couldn’t we ever be
friends? I closed my eyes, and pictured Shirley running around at the bottom of
the quarry, barking.

David looked down, but didn’t see her yet. My foggy head made it
hard to picture her. My whole body was starting to ache. I must have been
getting a fever.

“Now what are you going to do?”

It was my other voice again.

“Go away,” I said.

David must have thought I was talking to him. “I am going to get
my dog,” he said. “You better be gone when I get back up here, and pray that I
never see you again.”

“You can’t do anything right. I’m going to have to clean this
up, too, aren’t I?” My other voice said.

“No. I’ll do it. Just leave me alone. Go away!”

“Hurry! Push him in!” my other voice said. “Bah! I’ll do it!”

“I don’t need your help! Go away!” I was yelling again.

David grabbed my shoulders and pulled me away from the edge, but
my other voice took over.

When I woke up, I was on the edge of the cliff again, and David’s
broken body was sprawled on its back at the bottom of the quarry.

“Look what you’ve done, now,” my other voice said, “I hope
you’re happy.”

“Ow! OW! Whass happened?” I asked, but my other voice was
silent. My leg hurt worse than ever, my top lip was split open, and my nose was
bleeding. My tongue probed through a gap in my teeth to touch my torn lip.
Dammit! I was missing a tooth. No, two teeth! Right in front, in the middle of
my smile. I staggered back from the precipice once more, and shambled over to
my van, but…

David’s truck was still running, and it was much nicer than my new
van, so I climbed in. It was probably time for new car, anyway. I adjusted the
mirror, catching a glimpse of my small black eyes in my chubby face, beneath my
straight, oily bangs. I was so surprised not to see David’s smooth face and
thick hair, that I punched the mirror, knocking it out of view. Now my hand
hurt, too.

“Don’t like what you see, do you?” my other voice chided.

“Shut up. You can’t stop me now. I’m going home.”

“You don’t have a home, and this isn’t your truck. What have you
done to deserve this man’s life? He’s the one who worked to build it. People like
you don’t get to have a life like his. You are a bad person! You are the monster
in the closet. You are the intruder in the steam outside the woman’s shower
curtain, hoping for a peak.”

“That wasn’t me! It was you!” I screamed. “You are the pervert,
not me! I just want to be normal!” I punched the mirror again, and again,
bloodying my knuckles and knocking it off the windscreen.

My aching, battered body forced me to calm down and catch my
breath. There was a laptop bag next to several cardboard tubes in the back
seat. The glove box held some hand sanitizer and Burger King Napkins, and in
the center console, I found a bag of peanuts, a big black handgun, and a box of
bullets, but no medicine or cigarettes, so I closed it and drove back home.

Home. I was already starting to think of it like that. Poor
Shelia would need a new husband now. I was sure I could come to like her if I
could help her overcome her natural, whorish tendencies. I could teach her to
be a good, decent woman, and in return, she could have a new husband to love
and care for. She could bring me that glass of wine, and ask how my day was.

I parked in the garage and went inside to tell Shelia the good
news, but she wasn’t there. She must have still been jogging around the
neighborhood, looking for Shirley.

I almost forgot about Shirley. It would be nice if she found her
way home before Shelia got here. It would be wonderful for Shirley to have a
new master; one who wasn’t a moral degenerate. She would be happier with her
new master. All would be perfect once she got home.

I took the cashmere jacket from the coat closet and ran my hand
over the shoulder, admiring it once again. It must have looked nice on David,
but it was mine now. I tossed my bloody leather jacket on the floor, and tried
it on. The buttons wouldn’t close, and it was tight in the shoulders, but I wore
it anyway. I had earned it, and besides, it would comfort Shelia to see me
wearing something of David’s.

A few minutes later, the little brown curly dog was at the back door.
I let her in, and found a treat for her in the pantry. I picked the flotsam and
jetsam from her hair, and petted her on the big, comfy sofa until she fell
asleep on my lap. She perked up, though, when Shelia came panting through the
door.

“David?” she called. “What are you doing back? Did you find
Shirley? Ugh, where’d this jacket come from? It’s filthy.”

Shirley barked and jumped down, and ran to greet Shelia with a
happily wagging tail.

“This won’t work. She’ll hate you. You aren’t her husband.” It
was my other voice trying to sabotage my new life, but I wasn’t going to let
him. Not this time.

Shelia screamed when she saw me on our couch, but I knew she
would come to see me just as she saw David. With patience, I would teach her to
be a good wife, and maybe even a good woman. I was home at last, just like I
imagined.

The End

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continue to the next story

By
Gregory Carrico

The other exterminator sat next to me on the guardrail, trying
to catch her breath. She looked carefully at my knife while massaging the sides
of her bald, tattooed head. Was she smiling?

“You’re pretty good with that thing,” she said.

I suppressed a growl, and glanced down the quickly darkening
street for signs of more offspring. There were always more of them in a city,
and thanks to her, they’d have no trouble finding us. She’d be lucky if I
didn’t leave her here to die. Not that she would fare any better if I stayed;
she just wouldn’t die alone.

I risked a quick scan for other thoughts to see how close the
offspring were, and was surprised when a ripple of emotion tickled the back of
my mind.
Fear
.
Panic
. It wasn’t from her, either. I stood and
spun around, trying to get a fix on it, but it was gone. One thing was certain,
though: it had to be human.

“I like somethin’ with a bit of reach, myself,” the girl
continued. Her spear had a four foot haft, but it’s slightly curved, serrated
blade added another two feet to its length. From the way she used it, it might
have been her favorite childhood toy.

Ignoring her, I scanned the streets and buildings around us for
more thoughts. She must have been there to find the humans, too. If we could
find them quickly, we stood a chance at reaching a safer spot out in the
country. The only thoughts I found were hers, though, and oddly, they were
rather buoyant. Happy, even.

“Lots of big ones out today,” she continued casually. “Sure are
different than they were at first. What was your first like?” Her accent was
strong, but pleasant. Probably Texas. Her S’s were soft, and her ‘first’
sounded like ‘firsht’.