Shut The Fuck Up And Die! (25 page)

Matt carried her down the stairs, opened the
front door, and set her gently onto the porch. Turning back toward
the house, he removed a disposable lighter from the pocket of his
parka while his wife handed him the container they’d prepared
earlier. It was an old Coca Cola bottle from a time when they’d
still been made from glass, and the couple had carefully siphoned
the amber liquid from the gas can into it. Then it’d been stuffed
with strips of rags and left to wait on the porch for them like a
faithful puppy.

Flicking the wheel of the lighter, Matt held
the yellow flame to the gas-soaked rags which immediately caught
ablaze. As clouds of black smoke billowed from the improvised wick,
he leaned back inside the front door and stared intently at the top
of the stairs. Then, with an expression of grim determination he
lobbed the molotov into the house.

It arced upward and smashed into the upstairs
wall. Almost immediately there was a loud whoosh and a fireball
shot down the staircase like breath from a dragon. A blast of heat
washed over them, but by then Mona was already leaning against
Matt.

“
Mind if you use me as a crutch?” he
asked. “My arms are pretty damn tired.”

“
What? Are you saying I’m fat? Is that
what you’re saying? That I have a fat ass?”
Her tone was light and cheerful as she leaned against her husband
and draped one arm over his shoulder. Curling his arm around her
waist, Matt helped Mona limp across the porch and down the front
steps.

“
You got to understand, I hauled that
giant bastard all the way . . .”

“
Oh, so now it’s a giant bastard, is
it? I may have put on a little weight, but I wouldn’t go as far as
to call it giant.”

“
You dork.”

“
I’m
your
dork.”

She pecked him on the cheek again and by the
time they’d made it to the police cruiser, the air was thick was
the scent of burning wood. They could hear the fire roar behind
them as it hungrily devoured the old wood amid sharp pops and
crackles.

“
We’ll need to ditch this thing first
chance.” Mona commented. “I’d say the cop who owned it is probably
dead.”

From behind them came a shattering of glass
that was accompanied by a yell that sounded like a tortured soul
roasting in the flames of Hell. The couple spun around just in time
to see a shower of window shards cascading to the ground. But, in
the center of them was a huge fireball that hit the earth with a
dull thud. The fireball rolled into the snow and Matt raised his
eyebrows.

“
I’ve heard of stop, drop, and roll
before . . . but that drop was a bit extreme.”

Earl’s body hissed as the snow
extinguished the flames and revealed the charred and twisted form
that had hidden beneath them. Smoke curled from skin that looked
like a burnt hot dog and pieces of broken shin bone jutted through
the leg. But this hairless, burn covered
thing
still tried to claw its way forward. The
nails that were still embedded into its hands plunged into the
ground like a mountain climber’s pick and, inch by inch, it drug
its smoldering hulk toward the young couple.

Matt let out a low whistle as he turned to
look at his wife.

“
I’ll be damned . . . he would’ve had
to have pulled those nails right out of the table. sucker just
won’t stay down.”

The couple watched for a moment as Earl crept
across the snow like a crispy inchworm. His lips looked as if the
fatty tissue had started to bubble and boil away and they could see
patches on his body where it looked almost as if the clothes and
flesh had melted into one another.

Removing her arm from Matt’s shoulder, Mona
hopped through the drifts of snow until she was standing just out
of the thing’s reach. This close, the stench of singed hair and
charred flesh was so strong that a gag got stuck in the back of her
throat.

Earl opened his mouth and gurgled something
that could have been words had his tongue not looked so swollen
that it almost filled his entire mouth. The tip of it was missing
and Mona assumed he’d inadvertently bitten it off when his body hit
the ground. This, however, didn’t keep him from trying to form
words that, judging from the tone of the wet rasps, would have been
none too kind.

Stepping around him, she rolled her eyes and
squatted over his back like a sumo wrestler preparing for battle.
When she spoke, there was no anger in her voice, only
exasperation.

”
Just shut the fuck up and
die
already . . . .”

Her hand seized Earl’s wrist and the flesh
seemed to shift and slough beneath her grip. This didn’t deter her,
though, from lifting his arm from the ground and driving the nail
that pierced his palm directly into his throat. An arc of crimson
sprayed from the wound and pattered against the snow, reminding her
briefly of the cattle she’d seen on T.V. who had their necks
pierced by tribal spears.

“
Hey baby . . . I don’t know how to
tell you this. But I think I killed him.”

The fire had spread through the entire upper
floors of the house and plumes of black smoke billowed into the
morning air. Through the raging wall of fire, the supports and
framework stood out like a skeleton of cinders and the couple could
hear entire sections crumbling through the rush of the flames.

“
Come on, babe . . . won’t be long
until someone sees the smoke and phones it in. And I’d prefer to be
somewhere else when that happens.”

She glanced up at Matt as a wry smile crossed
her face.

“
You sure know how to show a girl a
good time. Hell of a honeymoon, Mattie.”

Matt smiled back at his wife while Earl’s
blood slowed to nothing more than a trickle.

“
You think this was something? Just
wait until you see what I’ve got planned for our
anniversary.”

####

For more information on the author,
including how to order a print version of
Cry Havoc
, please visit him online at
http://www.williamtoddrose.com