FleshEaters

FLESHEATERS

By

Mark Trimeloni

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Mark Trimeloni on Smashwords

FleshEaters

Copyright © 1997 by Mark Trimeloni

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, then encourage your friends to download their own copy.

Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

*****

Thank you to my mom and dad. There would be no me without you.

I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

*****

FLESHEATERS

*****

Chapter 1

Tommy's Return

In the beginning God created the Heaven and Earth, Jacob whispered to himself, trying to remember all the words to a passage of the Bible he had learned a year ago. And the earth was a fiery ball of lava brought down from the sky and molded by his hands.

The verse was not exact and became less recognizable as his mind slipped off into other thoughts that had less to do with religion.

His thumbprints became huge craters filled with the tears of all those he damned to Hell.

The word still had the power to send shivers up his spine.

And then land appeared along the edges.

He looked out his bedroom window at a group of dark clouds.

Then God created man to occupy the earth.

He could smell a musty odor coming from black rot along his window. His body shivered as he noticed shards of lightning breaking in the distance. But God created no animals for man to eat.

A bright glare erupted closer to his house, lighting his room and casting shadows across the wall behind him. He should turn on the light, but not until the final crash. He felt goose bumps running up his back. His breathing became shallow.

Man ate plants until one day... His voice trailed off and another flash of lightning shot across the sky, enveloping him in a white aura. Man ate man.

He closed his eyes and waited.

One...Two...Three... Boom! Thunder crashed all around him and he nearly pissed himself. He jumped from the chair and ran around the room in almost complete darkness, screaming, We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!

Adrenaline pumped through his body, making him feel completely alive. More alive than he’d ever felt in his life.

What the Hell is going on in here? His dad screamed from the doorway. Jesus...Mother of God! Are you insane, Jacob?

The question needed no answer. At this moment he was.

Stop that screaming! Didn’t he realize he was screaming as well? Jacob thought. And get your 12-year-old ass into that bed, young man.

His dad was pissed. Jacob smiled warmly and got under the covers. Tiny spaceships flew across the sheets on intergalactic missions he could only dream of.

They’re out there you know, Jacob said, rolling over onto his side.

Who is? His dad asked, turning to go back down the hall.

The Flesh Eaters, Jacob said.

His dad murmured something under his breath and left.

Jacob closed his eyes and dreamed of ferocious beasts with long claws, their fur matted with blood, their bodies twisted beyond any human resemblance. The only thing that appeared human was their faces. On one of them his dad appeared, grinning with blood-soaked teeth.

We’re coming, Jacob, he snarled, exposing red gums. Coming for you.

Jacob shivered.

The storm stopped around 3:00 A.M. Jacob recalled vivid images of shadows coming to life around his closet. It might have been absurd, but it might have been something else as well. Something with reddish white fangs and sharp claws. He could feel his balls crawling up inside him at the thought of strange creatures so close to his bed. They would not see him as human, should he be unfortunate enough to enter their domain. With bloodshot eyes the color of his mom’s Hot Nights lipstick, the beasts would stare at him as if he were a holiday ham. Then he would be devoured until only his bleached skull remained on the lawn, where the most ferocious of them would toss it after they had picked the meat from the bone.

He shivered then crawled out of the covers. When his feet hit the floor, he assumed a cat-like four-legged crouch. He moved stealthily across the green carpeting. Halfway to the closet, he curled his lips in a feline snarl.

Comin’ to get ya, he said, quietly approaching the door.

That’s when he heard a noise behind him. He felt something kick him in the ass. Shocked, he lurched forward, doing a perfect somersault and landing on his back. He wiggled his limbs like a giant turtle rocking on its shell.

Christ, sometimes I think you’re retarded, his dad said, gazing down at him. Even though he tried to keep a stern expression on his face, it was impossible. The sight of his son on the floor like that was too much. He started to laugh.

Jacob rolled over and jumped him. Mike was surprised by the quickness of the boy. He felt the impact and lost his footing. They flipped onto the carpeting, barely missing the side of Jacob’s desk.

I’ve got you now, Jacob snarled, sinking his teeth into his dad’s thigh. The bite was not hard, but on bare flesh he could feel it sting.

Yikes! His dad said, feigning serious pain. I’ve been bitten by a monster!

Jacob pulled himself up and waited for his dad to do the same. He looked at him with an expression of concern.

I’m no monster, he said, examining his body for tangled, black hair. Once the inspection was done, which included checking his fingernails for claws, he looked back at his father. I’m a boy. He said it with a finality that dared the man to say differently.

Yes, you are, his dad said, running a hand through his son’s hair and messing it up even more than the recent tumble to the floor. A very nice boy. Now, brush your teeth and come downstairs. Mom’s getting breakfast ready.

OK, he said, going to the closet for some shoes. He wanted to get an early start on the day. After breakfast, he planned to meet a few friends and go exploring in the woods behind Penny Pack Grocery. They might even find a zillion dollars and do some grocery shopping, as his mom put it. But he figured most of the groceries they bought would be the sugary kind his mom rationed like a demented jailer to his inmates.

He walked over to the closet and opened the door a crack. Something was in there. He felt it even before he let go of the knob and watched in horror as the door swung open on its own. Inside stood his best friend, Tommy Schrick. Only that wasn’t possible. Tommy had died over a year ago.

Jacob’s mouth drew itself into a perfect O.

What the...hell? He said, looking into the dead boy’s eyes.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The figure in the closet couldn’t be Tommy, who had died over a year ago in a hunting accident. Reluctantly, Jacob broke eye contact and examined the rest of the other boy. He noticed dark circles around his friend’s neck. The bruises were purple and nasty looking. In the middle of his chest appeared to be a black dot. Traces of dried blood still marked the area. With a trembling finger, he reached out to poke the spot.

Tommy raised a hand and caught the approaching digit. The contact startled Jacob. Cold ran through him from where the boy gripped his finger. Jacob raised his head to look into his friend’s face. There was a broad smile waiting for him and rows of large, white teeth.

Damn! You’re pissing yourself, Tommy said, reaching down with his other hand to clamp the end of Jacob’s penis. Instead of stopping the urine, the pinching made it spray outward onto his legs. He released the hold and jumped back in disgust. Jacob didn’t move.

I can’t believe you sometimes. Tommy moved deeper into the closet. I came here to tell you something and you piss all over me. He took two more steps backward. Well, now it’s time to wake up.

With cat-like quickness, he came out of the dark in three graceful strides. It seemed death hadn’t taken too much out of him. Both hands lifted in a gesture of surrender before hitting Jacob in the chest. Jacob fell back, rolling onto the floor. Tommy straddled him, moving his hands up to pin Jacob’s shoulders.

You were never any good at fighting, he said, wiggling to get a more secure position.

Jacob came to life as he felt the cold flesh on his stomach. He jerked upward before Tommy could properly position his weight to keep him down. The maneuver threw Tommy forward into a night table. A dull, wet thud accompanied the impact. But there seemed to be no stopping the dead boy. He got back to his feet just as Jacob lifted himself on wobbly legs.

It’s good to see you can still feel something, Tommy said, moving toward him. The black dot danced on his chest and thick blood drained slowly from the wound. See, you got me bleeding again. He traced a finger along the edge of the hole, bringing a small drop to his lips. There is a coldness in death you could never imagine.

He passed by Jacob, drawing a line across the boy’s chest from nipple to nipple. A blood line that connected them both for eternity.

All things have meaning, he said, heading for the closet. And I have something important to tell you. His eyes recaptured the life taken from him over a year ago. I wasn’t killed by accident.

Once inside the closet, he turned around and placed the finger in his mouth. He sucked greedily at the blood still clinging under the nail. Meet me by the old shed. He reached out for the shiny knob and smiled.

Jacob watched as the door slid shut. He felt things crawling inside him. Nasty things, with long, black mandibles and wicked claws. Thoughts of the movie Alien entered his mind. He wasn’t supposed to stay up and watch it, but Lillian, his demented baby sitter and not his girlfriend like his pals ribbed him on daily, had been on the phone to one of her male associates, as she liked to call them. Jacob knew they were nothing but sleazy, lowlifes with cocks down to their knees as Rebecca, his best friend, would say. In the end, he watched the movie while she yapped about non-sense only women could understand. He wondered if one of them might come over and do her, a term he picked up from Tommy a lifetime ago.

The thought brought him back. He needed to get his shoes and with his dead friend in the closet, that might not be so easy. There would be no way to explain to his mother why he didn’t put them on. And she would definitely notice. Then he would definitely not be going outside without them. And the shit would definitely hit the fan.

Shit, he said, savoring the way the word flowed off his lips. Shit and Mother Fuck. He liked that last word even more. Mother...mother...mother...fuck. He wasn’t sure who Mother Fuck was. He had never met her. But the word sounded cool. Daddy Fuck. He whispered when he heard movement outside his door.

I’m not going to tell you again to get your ass downstairs, his father said, peering in with a towel in his hand from shaving. He looked down at Jacob’s crotch with mild annoyance and some amusement. You pissed yourself, didn’t you?

The words hit Jacob hard. He had forgotten the wet feeling down there.

Only a little, he said, noticing the puddle on the floor beneath him.

Well, clean it up, his dad said, tossing him the towel. And don’t say fuck again. It’s fucking rude. His dad turned and left.

Jacob wiped himself quickly, then tossed the towel on the floor. He used his foot to wipe the piss away and finished by kicking the nasty thing under his bed. He refocused on the closet door. His dead friend was in there, hiding in the shadows. Something crawled along his shoulder and he nearly screamed. He swiped at the offending sensation without thinking. Boards creaked by the door to the closet. He took a step back, still looking at the bright handle leading to living death.

Jacob moved closer to the knob. He reached out and grabbed the tarnished brass handgrip. It felt cold. Very cold. He pictured Tommy on the other side of the door waiting for him. That hole in his chest dancing along the bluish flesh, spurting blood across the floor. It looked like a whale hole. Ragged edges blackened by gunpowder. He knew Tommy had died in a hunting accident. But he claimed it wasn’t an accident, Jacob’s mind offered in an effort to clarify. Then what was it? Jacob didn’t know and he figured he would find out soon enough when he went to the old shed. For now, he needed to stop being such a weenie and get his shoes.

With an effort he pulled the door open. Inside he found nothing. Not a damn thing. Tommy had gone or maybe, just maybe, he had never been there at all.

Jacob grabbed his shoes and ran downstairs. He took the steps three at a time and then stopped. He looked at his chest and saw the blood connecting his nipples like a deranged connect the dots. His father hadn’t seen it. But that was no surprise. His dad hardly looked at him anymore. Still, if he couldn’t see it and Jacob could, that might mean Jacob was losing his mind. Which was better than blowing his cookies, but bad nonetheless. He could always toss the salad or beat the monkey, but when the mind was gone that was it. No refunds and a high adios amigo to sanity.

He thought about trying the blood trick out on his mother. But she would notice. He was one hundred percent certain of that. The woman noticed everything. Especially when he became hard in front of her for no reason. She wouldn’t say anything, except the first time it happened. He was eating cereal and she came over with the milk. That was when she noticed it even before he did. Then she said, That’s OK, when she noticed him trying to cover it up with a hand. It’s natural.

He still didn’t feel right about it. He didn’t want his mom thinking he had a thing for her or anything. But at the time, he said nothing. It was too embarrassing. And to date he hadn’t mentioned it to his friends either. No need to get them on his case about wanting to pork his own mom. The bottom line was that he couldn’t control it. No more than he could control the weather.

But there were more important things to think about this morning. He needed to brush his teeth anyway, so a quick cleanup of the blood would be easy. He headed up the stairs and to the large, white bathroom at the end of the hall. Halfway there he noticed something on the floor. They looked like dirty footprints. Spots of dark red paint, almost black, dotted the area around them. He felt his testicles jump into his throat. When he looked down the corridor to the bathroom, he drew in a deep breath. The door was closed and the unmistakable sound of running water crept along the hallway toward him. Jacob cringed.

Jacob moved along the thick carpeting to the bathroom. The water sound continued, followed by someone spitting. Or something, his mind added, just to clarify the matter. He reached for the knob and opened the door. A couple of thoughts ran through his mind. One was that Tommy no longer looked like himself. He had grown over two feet since they had been wrestling in the bedroom. The other was that the boy had become hairy as hell. Something wasn’t right about the bathroom Tommy. He noticed a larger penis and balls as well. Then his mind clicked in. This wasn’t Tommy. The person happily standing at the sink on Jacob’s footstool and brushing his teeth with Jacob’s toothbrush was his father.

Hi, Jacob, he said, smiling through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Hi, Jacob replied, moving into the bathroom to pee. He could feel his bladder become heavier. As he passed behind his dad, he noticed a tiny black mole between the man’s shoulders—one he had never seen before. And he could catalog every part of his dad’s body by rote. But that black spot was new. He wondered how he had gotten it in the space of a few days. Guaranteed, Jacob didn’t examine his dad every day for new moles. So this one might have been there for a while. But it was unnerving anyway. It appeared so round and from this angle looked like a sinkhole of some kind. No, that couldn’t be right. Moles grew outward, sometimes with black hairs protruding from them. Or they remained flat like the couple he had found around his knee and arms. But they never sunk in like that.

Dad, he began.

Yes, son.

I noticed that mole on your back, he continued without much hesitation. When did you get it?

Jacob waited for an answer when no noise came from behind him. His back was now squarely to his father and he placed a trembling finger on the side of his penis to steady it before letting out a yellow stream of urine into the bowl. He watched the bubbles erupt from the placid surface of the water. A smile crossed his lips as he moved the stream around the bowl creating more of them.

Boom! He cried, as his torpedo launched into an enemy battleship. Then he fired one more before the stream started dying down, signaling the end of this expedition. But the underwater rocket still had enough juice left to make it to the target. Boom! and another enemy crew would not be going home to see their mommas.

He closed his eyes and waited for moisture to build up inside the lids. There was a scratchy feeling forming on the surface of them. Soon he opened his eyes and gave a few quick taps to drive any excess urine into the bowl. Then he turned to his father. The man was staring right at him and the look on his dad’s face spelled trouble.

Why would you care? His father said, no longer sporting that toothpaste smile.

You said to ask if I ever had any questions, Jacob retorted, puckering his lower lip to garner some sympathy.

Sometimes I think you are such a wuss, his father said, turning back to the mirror to floss.

Definitely something wrong here. His dad never used that word. But someone else did. Someone who should be resting for eternity in the ground at Hankshaw’s Cemetery. Someone he remembered all too clearly being buried last year.