This Side of Death now available

My novel, This Side of Death, is now available for purchase, either as a book or a download. You can find it here: http://www.lulu.com/product/paperback/this-side-of-death/6105341?productTrackingContext=center_search_results

This Side of Death - chapter twelve

Twelve

Ashley and Vickie jumped off the bus that deposited them at the mall. They walked along the sidewalk that led to the main entrance of the complex, laughing and making plans for their day.

They entered the mall and stopped occasionally at the small stores that sold edgy, trendy clothes. They pulled a few things off of hangers and shelves, tried on one or two items, but left each store without any purchases. They ignored the existence of the big anchor stores that dominated the ends of each massive retail corridor. It was the stores at the margins that interested them.

Ashley pulled Vickie into Silverheat, a store that specialized in funky costume jewelry. Ashley absorbed herself in a display of dangly earrings while Vickie wandered through the store. As she picked through a plastic box of items listed at half-price, she glanced up through the store window.

A man passed by, locking his eyes onto hers. To Vickie he seemed to be old—no, he was young. He wore a heavy coat with the collar turned up, even though the mall temperature was an even 72 degrees. He had dark hair—or was it silver-gray? His face was hard and fierce—or was it determined, and icily handsome? As these thoughts raced through Vickie’s mind, she realized she had stepped back and collided with a shelf full of belts and purses. She had a difficult time catching her breath.

Ashley noticed Vickie’s movements. “Hey, Vick—what’s wrong?”

Vickie reached back and steadied herself against the shelf. “I . . . nothing. Some guy just looked at me and made me jump.”

“Was he cute?” said Ashley.

“No . . . I mean, yes . . . I don’t know, Ash. He was just some guy. He surprised me, that’s all. He’s gone.”

“Let’s go find him,” said Ashley, grabbing Vickie’s arm and pulling her toward the door. Vickie followed.

Outside the store, the girls looked up and down the corridor. “Do you see him, Vick?” said Ashley.

Vickie looked around. “No, he’s not around anymore. Come on, Ash. It wasn’t anything. It was just some stupid guy. Let’s get going.”

The girls moved against the oncoming traffic of shoppers, trying to avoid collisions. Vickie bumped into a man carrying a bag from the mall’s large bookstore. She glanced at his clerical collar.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Pardon me.” The priest smiled and moved on.

They resumed their trek through the mall. When they reached the Halloween store, Vickie stopped abruptly at the front display window, grabbing Ashley’s arm in a fierce grip.

“Ow! What’s the matter, Vick? Let go!” said Ashley.

Vickie loosened her grip but still held on to her friend’s arm. “I . . . I’m sorry, Ash. That mannequin scared the hell out of me!”

“Come on, Vick. Don’t be such a baby,” said Ashley. “Let’s go in. This is the coolest store!”

The girls walked through the entrance. The figure in the window continued to stare woodenly into space, the sharp, bloody, plastic teeth contrasting with the white spray-painted skin. The black cape engulfing the figure carried a price tag of $39.99, on sale.

Ashley led Vickie past the displays of masks, ballerina skirts and fake appendages. In the farthest corner she found her treasures: rusty-looking crosses, polyethylene stakes, paper mache garlic and plastic swords. Ashley lifted a sword and held it up over her head.

“Cheesy. Totally fake-looking.”

“What do you expect, Ash?” said Vickie. “We’re not going to find the real stuff here. Hey, check this out!” Vickie picked up a clear plastic bag containing The Vampire Hunter’s Kit. Inside were two plastic stakes, a medieval-era hammer, a bottle supposedly containing holy water, and a small cross on a string. “This is sort of cool. Only $19.99.”

“Let me see that,” said Ashley. “Oooo. Let’s get this. This would be great for the part of the role-play when we kill Sean. I so want to do that.”

“Maybe we should get you a real hammer and stake, Ash,” said Vickie. “I’m sure Sean would appreciate the realism.”

“Yeah,” said Ashley. “On the other hand, maybe some chocolate laxative brownies would be better.”

Vickie laughed. “You wouldn’t really . . .” Vickie looked past Ashley toward the front of the store. Standing behind a rack of superhero costumes was the same man she saw earlier. He looked young now, even handsome. He was staring at Vickie, but not in a way that seemed malevolent. She felt her knees weaken.

“Ash, there’s that guy!” Vickie turned back to Ashley and pulled her around.

“Who? Where? Who do you mean?” Ashley shot glances all around the store.

Vickie looked back at the rack of costumes. Two young boys were picking through them. No tall figure was in sight.

“He was there, Ash. I’m telling you,” said Vickie. “He was looking right at me . . . at us. I don’t know where he went.”

“You’re giving me the creeps, Vick,” said Ashley. “Let’s get this stuff and go. I stole my Mom’s credit card. She won’t even know that she bought this.”

Ashley headed for the cashier and Vickie followed behind. She stopped at the superhero costumes. She sensed a lingering odor that smelled vaguely like a musky cologne. She moved away from the rack and joined Ashley.

The girls left the store and continued to wander through the mall.

This Side of Death - chapter eleven

Eleven

“Hey, Ellington. Do you have any cigarettes?” Al dug through his duffle bag in vain.

“Yeah, I have an extra pack,” said Danny Ellington. “You can have it. I’m trying to quit.”

“Thanks. I’m not. I’ll take whatever you don’t want.” Al removed a cigarette from the pack and lit it, blowing a cloud of smoke into the small underground space. “Of course, in here you’ll be a smoker whether you like it or not.” He sat back on the narrow metal bunk bolted to the concrete wall and picked up the book he had been reading.

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Danny. “What are you reading?”

Al turned the book over to look at its cover. “It’s a bunch of stories about vampires.”

“You mean, like Bela Lugosi and Dracula?” asked Danny.

“Yeah, sort of,” said Al. “Except these are more like the old folk stories about vampires. They’re a little more interesting than the movie stuff.”

“Does your wife like that sort of thing?” said Danny.

“No, not much,” said Al. “And she’s busy chasing the kid around. Now that he’s two he just about takes over the place.”

“Wow. Two years old,” said Danny. “You really started young.”

Al formed three near-perfect smoke rings. “Yeah. But that’s why we got married. We got busy too soon.”

“Lila and I will have kids sometime. Maybe after this mess is over,” said Danny.

Danny looked through the portal over the 50-caliber gun mounted on the swivel at his feet. He could see a large expanse of the Pacific, illuminated by the light of a full moon. “I feel like we have enough monsters to watch for without dreaming up any more.”

“We’re not going to see any subs,” said Al. “This part of the coast is too rocky.”

“Yeah, but that oil refinery in Goleta got shelled a few months ago,” said Danny. “1943 is only a few months away. It could be time for another attack.”

“When I enlisted, I never thought I’d be keeping America safe in a machine gun bunker within a hundred miles of Los Angeles,” said Al. “My old man went to France during the Great War. He thinks I’ve got it easy here.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Danny, scanning the horizon once more. “So why do you like those stories?”

Al set his book down and took a pull on the cigarette. “I don’t know. I guess life seems either really boring or really scary—like war. It would seem great to just float around, never being afraid of dying and never having to do all the stupid crap that people have to do. I’m getting sick of this life. I think I’d like that kind of existence.”

“Al, you’re only twenty-one and you’re still a private,” said Danny. “Don’t you want to see if you can be a fifty-year old general?”

“Ha!” Al took another hit from the cigarette. “That would be the day. This is not the life for me. When this is over, I’m gone. Hell, you’re only a year older than me and you’re a corporal. Do want to end up dying in uniform?”

“No, I don’t. But I also don’t want . . . what the hell?” Danny and Al both looked up in response to a loud scraping sound against the steel hatch above their heads. Danny looked again out the portal but saw nothing but the moonlit waves. The sound above them increased, sounding more like metal-against-metal than the sound of an animal dragging its claws as it passed.

Danny grabbed a rifle, leaving the bayonet on the floor of the bunker. He climbed up the steps of the steel ladder and tapped loudly against the hatch with the end of the rifle. The scraping sound stopped.

“What was that?” asked Al, gripping the other rifle with both hands.

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “Maybe some kids. I think they’re gone now. Let’s radio back just in case . . .”

The inside lock of the hatch exploded into pieces as the top was ripped open. The hatch was being twisted away from the inner shaft, bending the hinges and causing a screaming sound as the hatch was forced open. Danny fell from the ladder and landed on his back on the floor of the bunker, dropping his weapon. Al stepped over him and pointed his rifle toward the opening.

Something crawled rapidly down the shaft. It was human in its shape, yet moved like a lizard down a wall. Al fired. When the bullet hit, the shape recoiled, but then lurched downward. An arm shot out and grabbed the rifle, tearing it from Al’s grip. The shape righted itself and jumped feet first onto the bunker floor, knocking Al against a wall, where he slid down to the floor into a sitting position. Danny rolled away and was partially covered by the lower bunk in the wall.

The thing that glared at the two soldiers seemed initially to be human until they focused on its face. While it had all the features of a man, it was devoid of all that made it a living human. It not only appeared drained of color but also gave off no indication of emotion—no anger, no fear. If anything, it presented itself as superior, having no need to relate to these men in any primal way.

Although both men were on the ground, they recognized the intimidating height of the thing. It appeared to be well over six and-a-half feet tall, with shoulders that extended beyond what would appear normal for someone of that height. Although it was tall, it was extremely thin and gaunt. Yet there was a power and strength that emanated from it, seeming to pin the two men to the ground.

“Who the hell are you?” The sound came from Al in a more high-pitched tone than he intended. “Get out . . .”

The creature stepped toward Al and leered at him. Its mouth spread wide in an obscene grin. Sharp incisors, dark with rot, extended below its lower lip. It spoke in a harsh, airless whisper. “You want this.”

Al stared with bulging eyes at the thing looming over him and pressed harder against the wall. The thing leaned down toward Al’s face. Al grimaced in revulsion as the thing’s fetid breath reached him. It spoke again.

“You want this.”

Al began to sputter in protest, then stopped, locking his eyes on the face of the creature. His expression moved from terror to fascination. His jaw dropped as the muscles in his face relaxed.

From under the bunk, Danny dove for his rifle. The thing spun instantly and swung a skeletal arm in an arc, hitting Danny in the ribs, cracking two of them. Danny screamed out in pain. The thing turned back to Al.

“Now.”

Al opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The creature leaped forward, grabbing Al by the side of the head with one hand and at the waist with the other. In a rapid motion, it opened its mouth impossibly wide, then clamped it tightly on Al’s neck. Al gasped loudly as the creature’s cheeks caved in, drawing over and over on the vein it had punctured. Al’s face went slack and the color drained from it. His eyes rolled back and he ceased to struggle.

Danny watched in horror as the creature fed on Al. After several minutes it released its bite and let go of Al’s head. Al fell sideways like a rag doll, still held by his side in the creature’s grip. The thing pulled its own wrist across its bloody teeth, ripping the white, stony skin open. Blood oozed out of the wound. Laying Al on the ground, it pulled his head forward and forced Al’s mouth over the bleeding wrist. Blood dripped into Al’s mouth. As though the blood was reviving him, Al began to move his lips as a water-starved man would after a rescue from the desert. He sucked at the wrist hungrily, pulling the monster’s blood into his own body.

Danny’s pain had been momentarily displaced by the terror of the scene before him. Drawing in a painful breath, he pulled himself to his knees. He reached over and took hold of the detached bayonet, gasping as he gripped the handle. Raising the weapon over his head, he screamed in agony as he brought it down into the back of the monster. It arched its back and howled, releasing Al and filling the space with a putrid odor. As it twisted its body to attack, Danny pulled the bayonet out.

The thing spun quickly, knocking Danny over the mounted machine gun and back against the wall. With a scream of unbridled rage, it leaped upon him. Danny forced himself upward, the bloody blade of his weapon extended toward the monster. As their bodies collided, the blade pushed through the creature’s chest. Tremors shot through it, arms and legs flailing electrically. Danny wretched as foul, rotting breath hissed into his face, spattering him with globules of thick, dark blood.

As the body stopped moving, Danny pushed it away, leaving the knife embedded. The thing began changing before it hit the ground. The skin and underlying tissue tightened and then split as it contracted. The smell of decay filled the bunker, forcing Danny to resume his gagging. The sound of the body’s deterioration was like insect bodies popping as they were smashed against a pavement. Within minutes, only a frail, gray skeleton remained.

When Danny composed himself, he reached over with his boot and kicked the skeletal leg. The bones of the foot and lower leg separated from one another and melted into dust. Danny painfully rose to his feet and stumbled toward Al.

Al remained on his back, his head pulled back from his bloody, elongated neck. To Danny he looked dead, except that Al’s chest was moving up and down rapidly as he took in shallow breaths. Danny slowly knelt next to Al’s body. Taking a handkerchief from his back pocket, he carefully wiped at the blood covering Al’s neck. The two puncture wounds in the neck were inflamed and raw, but there were no other apparent injuries. As Danny checked, Al began to take in deeper breaths and move his limbs.

“Slow down, buddy. It’s okay. I’ll get you some help,” said Danny. “You’re going to be okay.”

Al moved his head back and forth, licking his lips with a dry tongue. “I’m so thirsty. My eyes hurt . . .”

“Hold on,” said Danny. “I’ll get you some water.” He crawled over to a shelf unit next to the bunks and grabbed a canteen. Returning to Al, he unscrewed the top and gently poured a trickle of water into Al’s mouth. Al licked eagerly at the water, but then began to choke. He turned his head as he vomited on the floor.

“Help me sit up.” Al’s voice was raw and dry. Danny helped him sit up against the wall, his own injuries making the process slow and painful. Al held his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what just happened, Al,” said Danny. “This is the craziest thing in the world. What the hell was that? What did he do to you?”

Al shook his head beneath his hands, but said nothing.

“I’m going to radio for help, Al,” said Danny. “You okay for a minute?”

Al nodded, head still in hands, his eyes closed tightly.

Danny rose stiffly, holding onto his side. He was starting to feel feverish and sick. He moved to the smaller room and steadied himself against the doorway. “No one’s going to believe what happened, Al. I don’t think I believe it,” said Danny.

He stumbled to the desk, resting one hand on the side. He stared at the radio, waiting for his eyes to focus. His head was pounding now, making it difficult to see clearly or to hear that Al had pushed himself away from the wall and was moving in the next room.

Danny was reaching toward the radio when the blade of the bayonet entered his back. The pressure forced him over the desk, knocking the radio over. He gasped loudly as Al pushed harder, driving the blade slowly through his body. The knife moved through his right lung as Al put his full weight on the handle. The blade stopped with a metallic thud as it struck the top of the steel desk. Al stepped back as Danny rolled off the desk to the floor, landing on his left side. He looked up at Al.

“Al . . . why . . .?” Danny coughed hard. Blood sprayed into the air.

Al stared down at Danny. His face was slack and white. His eyes were bloodshot and heavy-lidded. His arms hung limp at his side and a large, wet bloodstain covered the front of his uniform. When he spoke, his voice sounded to Danny like that of a lizard, if lizards could speak.

“You should have wanted it. It would have been better.” Al lurched forward a step and slowly leaned toward Danny’s face. Danny forced his eyes open, but he began drifting toward unconsciousness.

Danny’s eyes rested on the dog tag that hung from the chain around Al’s neck as it dangled in the air above his face. As darkness came over him, he saw only the name impressed on the metal tag.

Alec Sisera.

Danny’s breathing stopped. Al continued to stare at him. When he stood, he looked around the room slowly as if the space was new to him. He turned and walked to the steel ladder and climbed upward. He moved through the broken hatch and out into the night. He stood silently looking out over the ocean.

Al turned his head and focused on the jeep parked on the road below the hilltop entrance to the bunker. He walked down the hill to the rear of the vehicle. He reached for the metal strap holding the gasoline can, disconnecting it. Holding the can by the handle, he walked back up the hill.

His movements now more fluid, Al slipped back down through the hatch into the bunker. He doused everything with gasoline—the supplies, the ammunition, the bunks, and Danny’s body. He stopped to gaze at the deteriorating remains of the skeleton in the main room. He poured gasoline on the skeleton and watched as it crumbled into dust and mixed with the fluid, making a gray mud. He climbed back out of the bunker and pulled his cigarette lighter from his pocket. Striking it until the flame caught, he dropped the lighter into the bunker. A bright yellow glow illuminated his face.

Alec Sisera turned and walked away into the darkness.

This Side of Death - chapters nine and ten

Nine

Janie Porter wasn’t completely drunk yet. It wasn’t even noon—she had awhile before she drifted into another beery coma. There was plenty of beer and half a carton of cigarettes to keep her company.

As Ashley and Vickie disappeared down the hallway, Janie let herself remember—just for a moment—when she was only sixteen. She had thought there was a future for her: A husband, a family, something that would take her from the home that made her want to run away and blend in with the horizon.

Janie thought that Ray—“Killer Ray,” as his friends called him (that should have been her clue)—would rescue her from her life. If her dad hit her again she thought he might kill her; her mother never seemed to notice what was going on. She thought Ray was the answer. They married when Janie was eighteen.

But Ray just picked up where her father left off. A year after they were married, Ashley was born, and Janie hoped Ray would settle down. He backed off some, but when the little girl started walking Ray found too many reasons to knock her around. When Ashley was twelve Ray finally left, driving off in his big rig with that blond whore sitting right next to him. Ashley saw him laughing as he left—Janie didn’t miss that. She was glad he was gone, but she knew she would now be nothing without him.

Booze and smokes were her only friends now. Her night job waitressing at the bar paid the rent, but there wasn’t much left after that. The job also kept her moving and burned off the beer—at least she still had a fairly decent body. The few guys she slept with didn’t want a future with her and she didn’t mind. The hour or so they spent together helped her forget her life for awhile.

As she heard Ashley’s bedroom door shut, Janie told herself that she’d do almost anything to escape the hopelessness of life. Yes, she’d do anything.

Ten

Jay hauled the patio furniture out to the sidewalk in front of the store. As he set the last chair in place against the table he paused to take in the morning. It would be a warm day, but autumn was coming. Sure, it was southern California, but the seasons came just as they did in Indiana or Maine. Jay always figured you had to pay close attention in order to catch the changing of the seasons anywhere south of San Francisco.

He noticed how the fall air—even here in town—carried hints of acacia and anise. Even the smell of the ocean had changed. Jay could also tell a difference in the shadows. They angled differently than they did in July or August. The shadows seemed longer and darker. Fall was, for Jay, auditory, visual and olfactory. It’s just that you had to appreciate subtlety.

As Jay looked across the street, his eyes were drawn to the shadows in the storefronts. The entrance to the old Granada Theater—closed three years ago after the multiplex across town opened up—was deep in shadows. His eyes moved past the abandoned ticket booth to the dirty glass doors where he used to enter to see Star Wars and Back to the Future; the older folks had passed through to see Bogart, Wayne, Newman and Redford. Jay’s eyes stopped at the exit door.

A shape materialized against the glass, a shape darker than the shadows surrounding it. It seemed human for a moment, then shifted to something out of focus. Jay felt as though he was being watched by the figure, but he couldn’t isolate it in his scope of vision long enough to be sure. Jay thought he could see two dull, red glows at the top of the figure. For just a moment, they looked like eyes.

Although the morning had not yet turned uncomfortably warm, Jay began to perspire. At the same time, he shivered. He wanted to run inside the store but couldn’t move. He was jarred from his frozen position by the sound of the door behind him opening.

“Hey, Jay,” said Ed Dunn. “Hurry up with that display. Phil is up to his ass in that barbecue. You need to help him before he screws the whole thing up.”

Jay stared blankly at Ed. “Uh, yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ed disappeared inside the store. Jay turned toward the theater again. The glass doors appeared dirty and empty. Jay breathed deeply and gathered up the packing materials from the furniture. He pushed through the front doors and headed toward the back room to rescue Phil.

From across the street, the two red eyes reignited. After a few seconds, they disappeared.

This Side of Death - chapter eight

Eight

“Hi, Mrs. Porter.” Vickie glanced in the living room as she and Ashley made their way toward the back bedroom.

“Hi, Vickie,” said Janie Porter. “Ashley, did you take some of my cigarettes? This carton seems almost empty.” Janie kicked a beer can off the couch where she was reclined. As she shook the cigarette carton as evidence, the full can of beer in her other hand also shook, sloshing beer on her shirt. She didn’t seem to notice.

“No, Mom. I didn’t touch your cigarettes.” Ashley kept moving toward her bedroom. She didn’t look toward her mother nor did she wait for a response.

The girls entered the bedroom and Ashley shut the door. “Everything’s set for tonight, Vick,” said Ashley. “Sean says there’s some new guy coming. I asked him if the guy was hot and Sean just told me to piss off. That means the guy is hot. Sean is such a worm.”

“Yeah,” said Vickie. “Sean gives me the creeps. He’s always trying to look through our clothes. I’d rather be a real vampire than touch Sean.”

Ashley locked her eyes on Vickie’s. “Really? Would you really want that?”

“What? To touch Sean? Yuck!”

“No, I mean really be a vampire?”

“Come on, Ash. You know what I mean. Don’t get weird.” Vickie turned toward Ashley’s bed. “What’s all this stuff?” She reached out to a black duffle bag on the bed.

“It’s stuff for tonight. We’re going to do a role-play—it’s kind of a test for this new guy.” Ashley took the bag from Vickie and dumped its contents on her bed. From it fell a cheap propane lighter, a plastic crucifix on a bead necklace, a two-foot redwood stake, and two packs of cigarettes.

“What’s this?” said Vickie. “I thought you told your mom you didn’t take any of her cigarettes?”

Ashley shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. She’s drunk most of the time and usually doesn’t know the difference anyway. What—I’m hurting her by taking some of her cigarettes? It’s not like they’re vitamins or something.”

Vickie picked up the redwood stake. “This is cheesy, Ash. This is for holding up tomato plants. If you’re going to kill a vampire, shouldn’t you use something carved out of a human bone or a 300-year old oak tree or something?”

“It’ll do for tonight,” said Ashley. “It’s just a role-play. These are just props.” She looked steadily at Vickie. “Vick, are you really into this? You sound like you think it’s dumb.”

“I don’t know,” said Vickie. “I like some of it. I like fitting in with something that feels sort of on the edge of . . . of something, I don’t know what. But sometimes these role-plays feel like little kids playing make-believe. We’re almost seventeen, Ash. Being with dorks like Sean is like playing house with your little brothers.”

“Yeah, sometimes it gets stupid,” said Ashley. “But I keep hoping it will get more real.”

“What do mean?” said Vickie.

“Well, it’s like what we’re doing is sort of like a play about something that’s really going on. I keep hoping that we’ll experience the real thing sometime,” said Ashley.

“Real vampires, you mean?”

“Maybe. There could be real ones.”

“Don’t say that, Ash. It freaks me out.” Vickie hugged her arms to herself.

Ashley jumped onto her bed, sat down and crossed her legs. “Doesn’t it seem awesome, though? Never dying, changing shape, free from all the crap that people have to live with. No drunk moms . . . you know what I mean, Vick?”

Vickie sat on the bed. “I guess. But it’s all folklore, Ashley. There’s a lot I would like to escape, but not that way. It just isn’t real. I just do this because I hate school and I want to crawl out of my skin sometimes.”

“Just because we haven’t seen any real vampires doesn’t mean they aren’t real,” said Ashley. “I would be one if I could.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever,” said Vickie.

Ashley’s face softened. “Vick, do you still miss your dad?”

Vickie looked down and traced the outline of a stitch on the bedspread. “Yeah. My dad was great. I even dream about him.”

“What do you dream?” said Ashley.

“I don’t know. Sometimes just crazy stuff.” She looked up at Ashley. “Don’t you miss your dad?”

“No. Well, I wish I had a dad, but I don’t miss him,” said Ashley. “He was mean to my mom and me and then he just took off and left us. It’s hard to miss someone who doesn’t want you.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Vickie. “I’m sorry, Ash.”

“It’s okay. I hope he burns in Hell,” said Ashley. “So did your mom say you could spend the night?”

“Yes, but I don’t know. Jay invited me to go to a concert with him tonight.”

“Your brother is such a hunk,” said Ashley. “I wish he was a vampire. I’d be glad to let him bite my neck, and even . . .”

“Enough!” said Vickie. “This is my brother, Ash. I’m gonna puke!” Both girls screamed and laughed, falling across the bed.

“Really, Vick. You have to stay over! My mom will fall asleep on the couch by 8:00, and we can go to the role-play and stay really late. You have to stay!”

“Maybe I will,” said Vickie. “Yeah, I will. But I don’t want to stay out all night again. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” said Ashley. We’ll stay at least until midnight. That’s the best time for the role-play. And maybe that new guy will be hot. We might want to stay awhile, Vick.”

“Maybe. We’ll see,” said Vickie. “So what are we going to do all day?”

“Let’s go to the mall!” said Ashley. “There’s a new Halloween shop there. We can see if there are more things we can get for tonight.”

“Cool,” said Vickie. “Let’s go now.”

The girls jumped up from the bed. Ashley gathered up the props for the evening and put them back in the bag. She shoved the bag under her bed.

“Hey, Ash,” said Vickie.

“What?”

“If things get, I don’t know, weird tonight, would you be okay if we left early?”

“Weird? Like what?” said Ashley.

“I don’t know. With this new guy and all. We don’t know who Sean would bring in. What if he’s some violent freak or a serial killer or something?” said Vickie.

“Come on, Vick,” said Ashley. “Nothing like that’s going to happen. Why would a self-respecting serial killer hang around with someone like Sean?”

“Right. Good point,” said Vickie. “But seriously. Will you promise?”

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine,” said Ashley. “But if something goes crazy, we’ll leave. Promise. But like you said, Vick. It’s just for fun.”

This Side of Death - chapter seven

Seven

When Jay arrived at work the Saturday manager, Ed Dunn, was unlocking the front doors of the hardware store. Ed was sixty-ish and moved slowly against his hefty bulk. His gray crew cut gave him the look of a drill sergeant.

“Hey, Ed.” Jay ducked in the door.

“You’re late, asshole.”

“Sue me. Had a family crisis.”

“You are a crisis. Get that patio display out front before the hordes descend. My hemorrhoids are already killing me and it’s only 10:00. I don’t need anymore grief, hot shot.”

“Hemmies, eh?” said Jay. “Is that why you have assholes on the mind?”

“No,” said Ed. “Just thinking of you.”

Jay barked a laugh as he headed for the back room of the store. As he entered, he saw Phil, his weekend co-worker. Phil was a hardware career man—not because he loved the business, but because he lacked ambition to do anything else with his life. Jay liked him, but considered him a prime example of why he wanted to finish college.

“Hi, Phil. How’s it going?”

Phil was on his hands and knees, his pants sloping downward enough from his bulging middle to reveal his plumber’s crack. He turned from the gas barbecue he was assembling. “Hey, man. Where have you been?”

“I’m only fifteen minutes late. Had some family stuff,” said Jay.

“Oh. Yeah.” Phil scrunched his eyes into a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

Jay removed his t-shirt and pulled out his personalized Taylor Hardware shirt from a locker mounted on the wall. Over the pocket was a hand-sown patch inscribed with the legend: Jay—Here to Serve You. “Yeah, it’s okay. My sister is just acting up and driving my mom crazy.”

“Wow. My cousin Wendy started acting crazy when she was in high school.” Phil became pensive. “She got knocked up and ran off with some biker to Oregon.”

“Gee, Phil. Thanks for the story,” said Jay. “You ever thought about becoming a therapist?”

Phil looked at Jay and made arches out of his eyebrows. “No. I’m too old to change jobs—I’m almost forty, damn it! Plus, I could never make people do all those stretching exercises.”

“Right. I don’t know what I was thinking about.” Jay finished the last button on his shirt and moved toward the patio furniture designated by Ed.

“Jay—can I asked you something?”

Jay kept stacking patio chairs together. “Sure. What is it?”

“Your Dad—I don’t want to be nosy—but what happened to him?” Phil rubbed a grease-smeared hand over his balding head, leaving a dark smudge in between the remaining fluffs of curly dark hair. “I know he died and all, but I heard it was a real mess.”

Jay continued to work, but with greater intensity. “Yeah, it was a mess. There wasn’t much left of him.”

Phil grimaced. “Ugh. Did they ever catch the guy who did it?”

“No, they never caught anybody. It’s a big mystery,” said Jay. “I have to get this stuff out front. Ed’s gonna kill me if it isn’t out there soon.”

Phil watched Jay push through the backroom doors, carrying the stack of chairs. “Yeah, a big mess,” he said to himself. “Helluva thing.”

This Side of Death - chapter six

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Six

Jay wove through the neighborhood, heading for Cedar Avenue, which would take them toward Ashley’s house. The five-year-old Honda wasn’t the hottest car in town, but it was reliable and in good shape. And, it had been his dad’s car.

He looked over at his younger sister. Two years apart, they fought like all siblings, but their love for each other had been evident. Jay broke the silence as he turned onto Cedar. “So when are you going to get your driver’s license, Vick?”

Vickie looked over at her brother and snarled. “I don’t know. And why do you care, anyway? I wouldn’t even have a car.”

“Hey, slow down. I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

“Look, if you don’t want to drive me, just say so. I can take a bus.”

Jay pulled off the street into a grocery store parking lot. He stopped the car and shut off the engine. He turned to face his sister. “Listen. This is me. I’m not your enemy. I’m your brother, remember?” Vickie remained silent, looking down. “Come on, Vickie. Talk to me. What are you so angry about?”

Vickie shrugged. “I’m not angry. I just don’t like people bugging me all the time.”

“I’m not trying to bug you. I just want to talk with you.” Jay looked steadily at his sister. “Vick, I miss Dad too.”

Vickie fussed with her fingernails, picking off chips of black polish. “It isn’t fair, Jay.”

Jay reached over and placed his hand on Vickie’s shoulder. “I know it isn’t. There’s nothing fair about it. But we have to keep ourselves together.”

She looked up and met her brother’s eyes. “Jay, do you believe in God?”

Jay hesitated before answering. “Yes, I think so. I don’t understand why any of this happened, but I think I believe in God.”

“Do you believe in Hell?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Jay. He looked out the window, watching a box boy collect grocery carts from the parking lot. “Not really. It doesn’t make sense to me that a good God would create eternal torment for people . . .”

“I don’t believe in Hell either,” said Vickie, brushing tears from her darkly painted eyes. “Because if there was a Hell, then God should go there for what he let happen to Dad. And if there is a God, then he’s a bastard and doesn’t care about us.”

Jay was startled by his sister’s outburst. His own agnosticism about certain religious views was nothing compared to Vickie’s angry assessment of the deity. “Jeez, Vick. Maybe you’d better hope that there isn’t a God. He might be pissed at you right now.”

Vickie laughed. Jay smiled as he saw a hint of his sister’s old self emerge, even if just for a moment. She returned to her fingernails. “I don’t know, Jay. I just feel really ripped off.”

Jay remained quiet for a minute or two. “Vick, why the vampire thing?” She shrugged a silent I-don’t-know. “I mean, isn’t the whole vampire story related to some idea of Hell?”

“Just in old books and folktales,” said Vickie. “The whole vampire culture is just about recognizing how dark life is. It’s just like a political expression or a protest against culture. It’s a harmless thing. It doesn’t have anything to do with sucking blood, except when freaks get involved.”

Looking at his watch, Jay said, “Oh man. I have to get to work.” He started the car and left the parking lot, returning to his original route. “Hey—there’s a free concert on campus tonight. You want to go with me?”

Vickie smiled and looked up, dark mascara framing her blue eyes. Her smile faded as a grayness came over her face. “No, thanks. I’m doing something with Ashley tonight.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Jay. “You’ve just started hanging around her, haven’t you? I, mean, she’s new, right?”

“Yeah,” said Vickie. “Sort of.”

“So what happened to your other friends—Allison, Kristie—you know,” said Jay. “Don’t you see them anymore?”

“Sometimes,” shrugged Vickie. “I don’t know. We just sort of drifted. Ashley’s cool.”

“So, is everything else okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m just tired,” said Vickie. “I had this really weird dream last night and I couldn’t go back to sleep for a long time.”

“A dream? Was it . . . about Dad?”

“Yeah. But I really don’t want to talk about it,” said Vickie.

“Okay,” said Jay. “Maybe later?”

“Sure,” said Vickie. “Maybe later.”

They continued their trip in silence. When Jay deposited Vickie at her friend’s house, Ashley ran out to meet them at the car. As the two girls ran into the house, Jay observed how similar they were to each other. Not only did they wear the same kind of black clothing, but they were also about the same size—a couple of beauties beneath all the ugly makeup. He marveled at the corporate nature of high school individualism.