Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner (30 page)

Sully’s eyes shot to Anna. He had told
her about the sand monster conversation he had had with Monica the
day before. But now Anna seemed oblivious to most of her
surroundings. She had been in her writing place before they had
come out and had neglected to eat since before noon. Now it was the
large bowl of salad on the TV tray that held her interest, not what
Sully’s dad had said or Sully’s reaction to the words.

His mom took Monica out, as his dad
switched the channel from the cartoon to ESPN.

With his mom and Monica cleared out,
Sully asked, “Dad, do you always say that to Monica?”

Turning away from the television to
Sully, his dad returned, “Do I always say what, Sully?”

“About the Sandman.”

His dad thought for a little while, a
concerned look on his face. Sully wondered if he had picked up
something in Sully’s tone. “Well, yeah, Sully. I guess I do say
that a lot. Why?”

Sully held back for a few seconds.
Seeing how troubled the old man looked already, he wasn’t about to
tell him that he was accidentally scaring his granddaughter, that
she thought the Sandman was a female monster that came through the
roof at night.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Monica
just—”

Sully stopped when he heard Anna gasp.
He turned to see her holding her stomach, a pained expression on
her face. She then let out a beastly burping sound, before she
leaned over and filled the salad bowl with brownish-orange vomit.
She went over the arm of the loveseat and then staggered out the
back door. Sully followed, and when Anna hunched over, he took the
back of her hair in his hands, before she forced up little burps of
fluid.

After she stopped and sat back on the
porch, Sully noticed his dad standing just inside the screen door.
He looked horrified, and Sully understood why. He had never heard a
sound like that come from a person, nor had he ever seen someone
retch so hard. He turned his attention back to Anna.

“You all right, babe?” he
asked.

Anna, her face deathly pale, even for
Anna, nodded, then she said, “There was meat mixed in the salad.”
She paused. Then her voice almost sounded ashamed. “I was hungry. I
didn’t check it first.”

Sully heard his dad leave.

Anna actually raised her weary face
toward the door. “Go take care of that,” she said. “I’ll be
okay.”

But she didn’t look or sound okay.
Sully didn’t want to leave her there, never having seen her the
slightest bit sick before, Anna usually so healthy with her soy
drinks and aerobic exercise. But he knew she was right. He had to
go. His dad was pissed. He was not going to have kind words for the
woman whose stubborn views sometimes led her to cross the line
between over-concern and sheer bitchhood. Sully had a few choice
words for the woman, himself, but knew that neither he nor his dad
should be allowed to explode in front of Monica.

Sully found them both in their
bedroom. They were just standing there, to his surprise. His dad
looked at him, and Sully thought he understood. The old man was
waiting for him. Sully went into the bathroom, where Monica was
sitting in a tub that was filling with bubbles and
water.

“How do we turn off the water?” he
asked.

“Hot water first,” Monica
replied.

“Good.”

Sully turned the vent on to drown out
the outside noise, but he left the door open. Argument in the other
room or not, he felt more comfortable with it open. He walked into
the room, where his parents still stood. By his mother’s angry red
face, something had been said.

“Mom, how could you do that?” Sully
asked, quietly, forcing down the urge to yell. The question assumed
that she had done it intentionally. But Sully thought that
assumption safe. He thought of the effort she must have went
through to hide the little chunks of meat within the
mixture.

His mom didn’t try to deny it. She
spoke in an angry, confident voice. “Because you love that woman,
Sully. And we do too.”

“And what the hell does that have to
do with what you’ve done?” his father rushed out. His voice was
stern, but not loud.

His mother glared at his dad with a
feverish spite. “I think it’s obvious.”

Both Sully and his dad stared at her
in confusion. His dad shrugged as he shook his head.

His mother said to them as if they
were idiots, “She’s going to have Sully’s baby someday. She can’t
possibly carry a child if she doesn’t have meat in her
body.”

Now it was disbelief they looked at
her with. Sully spoke to it first. “One, that’s not true. Anna’s
diet is probably going to make her outlive us all. Two, I assure
you that she wouldn’t be the first vegetarian to deliver a healthy
baby.”

“Not to mention, it’s not your place
to monitor her diet,” Sully’s dad added.

His mom’s eyes filled with tears. She
folded her arms in front of her and began to pout. Sully didn't
doubt her good intentions, and he believed her when she said she
loved Anna. It had been hard for her at first, Anna not like any
woman Sully had ever dated, or like any woman that had come to this
town. But she had seen the way Anna treated Sully, the way she
looked at him, doted over him, and that she loved Monica too. All
that had won her over. But Sully just couldn’t believe how naïve
and controlling his mother could be.

“Sully,” he heard Anna’s frail voice
call.

Sully left them and went to the living
room, where Anna lay on the couch. He knelt down beside
her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Anna nodded. “Can we go home?” she
asked.

“Of course,” Sully responded. “Just
let me get Mon.”

Sully got up, but before he could
leave, Anna whispered again.

“No.”

“What?”

Anna took a second, like conversing
was hard for her now, and then she said, “You told her she was
staying. You can’t use her that way.”

Sully thought about what Anna was
saying. He did want to take Monica with him to punish his mom. But
there was another motivation. He had to show the woman that she
would not be allowed to be close minded and still be a big part of
his daughter’s life.

As if she could read his mind, Anna
whispered, “You turned out okay. So will Monica.”

Sully looked down on her, shocked by
this woman’s intuition. How did she always know what he needed? How
did she always have the right answer, whether or not a question was
asked? Sully kissed her right on the mouth that she had just
vomited from. He walked back and saw that his mother was with
Monica. She was helping her wash her hair, though Monica could do
it herself. He was amazed at how calm his mother looked, a pleasant
smile on her face, as if nothing had happened, as if she had not
just done something she should feel deeply ashamed of.

His dad was in the master bedroom
still. He was sitting on the bed, his head down. He lifted his head
when Sully walked in. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone exasperated.
“Tell Anna.”

Sully shook his head. “Not your
fault.”

His dad nodded, the guilt still
apparent.

A little while later, he and Anna were
in the Taurus, Sully driving, Anna’s head on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t
stand the thought of dead flesh in my mouth.”

“No,” Sully said, amazed that, of the
two people who had apologized to him, neither was the one who had
caused all the trouble. Sully was about to counter her apology
further, just as he had done with his father, but then Anna moved
her head over to his crotch. She bit down lightly,
teasingly.

She then said, “Live flesh, on the
other hand.”

By the time they got home, Anna was
doing much better.

#

That night, he awoke, thinking he had
heard something. He knew the coma men had been there, in his
dreams, much earlier in the night.

Sully lay there for a little while,
then heard something again. It was just a thumping sound, something
moving around. Very groggy, he couldn’t localize where it was
coming from. He remembered that Monica was at his parents’ house,
and that made him less worried.

The sand
monster
, he thought, then went back to
sleep.

Chapter Four

Where had he been? The gray interstate
stretched out in front of him, a reminder that this was reality.
But where had he just been?

It was March now. The cold days were
dwindling away, fewer and further between, soon to disappear into a
rainy but warm Oklahoma spring. Barbecues everywhere. Permission
slips for kids missing school to go to track meets. Seniors finding
it hard to focus, anticipating the end of their high school careers
as the days rolled by.

Monica was in the backseat, plugging
away at the Game Boy Grandma and Grandpa had gotten her for
Christmas, indifferent to him and the rest of the world around
her.

Something was not right. Something
disjointed, like being stoned. Everything was there. The road.
Monica. His car. And so was he. But why did he feel so out of
place? Where had he been just been?

It had been the trance, the usual
place brought on by the road. The usual strange logic had been
there. But there was something more, something he could intuitively
sense and was supposed to remember. His mind felt like it could
grasp it. It felt like it was coming on. But the road would stop
him before he got there.

No, what’s there is
outside of the limits, not to be grasped. You don’t get it until
it’s time.

No, he
couldn’t go there. But he couldn’t be here either. He couldn’t be
completely connected to either place. What was he supposed to do?
Was he supposed to do anything? Was this just some stupid trick of
his mind, a meaningless feeling brought on by some minor chemical
incident in his brain?
Remember!
something screamed out in his head. He had to
remember where he had been. Not just the trance, but bigger
somehow.

The semi’s deafening horn blew from
behind him, and suddenly he was where he was. He was on the road,
completely. Monica was in the backseat, unaware of the imminent
danger. In his rearview mirror was the giant, beastly piece of
machinery. Close. Too close. Closing in on them. About to overtake
them. There was no time to react. He saw the semi come so close
that it looked like they were to be swallowed by it. He actually
heard the clank of metal and then the crunching sound of the larger
vehicle overtaking the smaller one, like a predator wolf coming
down on a hapless rabbit, only with the terrible sounds of metal
being distorted. He actually saw the back of his car cave, saw
Monica being pushed forward at him, and then they were sliding, at
the control of the semi’s momentum.

The semi took them to the side, into
the grassy median. Across the median was oncoming traffic, several
vehicles, all seemingly oblivious to what was approaching. There
was the feeling of release, and the semi in his mirror was moving
away. But the Taurus had not stopped, and it was not in his
control. They were airborne now, approaching the wrong side of the
road.

Sully was barely able to catch a
glimpse of the pickup that struck the front of his car, spinning it
around, still in the air, and then there was the discoloration of
the circle, all things blending together. Contact. The car landed.
Green. Then more contact, sending him forward. White coming at his
face, then smothering him. The hissing sound.

Sully reflexively moved to the side to
escape from the airbag. He undid his seatbelt, opened his door and
rolled out of his car, landing in the grass. Quickly, he scoped his
surroundings. They had stopped in a field, clear on the other side
of the road, where the truck had sent them. Back on the median was
the truck, its driver, a panic-stricken, large man, was just
getting out. Up ahead, pulling off to the side of the road, was the
pickup that had struck them. Other vehicles were
stopping.

Monica. His heart raced. He didn’t
want to know. Not if the worst had happened. But he had to find
out. Because he was her father. She was his life.

The Taurus didn’t look so bad. The
back was smashed in, but not to the point that it would have
squashed what was in the backseat.

But Sully wasn’t looking in the
backseat. And that was what he had to do.

He couldn’t hear her. He had to look
in the backseat. He had to force himself.

Sully tried the backdoor, but to no
avail. It was smashed to the point where the opening mechanisms
were irrelevant.

He allowed his eyes to drift a little
to the place where the window used to be. He didn’t want to believe
what his mind was telling him. He didn’t want to think of what that
shattered glass and the glass from the rear window could have done
to his daughter.

Remember!
screamed out in his mind.
He didn’t have to do all this. He didn’t have to find Monica. He
didn’t have to think of how he would help her or how he would deal
with the other alternative, the only other alternative there was,
that if she wasn’t injured, she was. . .