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by Scott Normandin
The sound
of the rain hitting against the window pane
was beginning to make Bryan sleepy again.
The rhythmic pattern was not the only thing
that broke the silence of the chilly night
air. He could hear his own breath heaving
as he tried to keep from hyperventilating
out of terror from this night of Hell. His
heart pounded in his chest as though it
was fueled by some kind of adrenaline surge
that he had never felt. His pulse rang out
in his ears like a tribal drum in the darkest
jungle.
From his
perch near the window he could see the dark
figure still standing at the front door.
It had been hours since he first arrived
to play out his savage plot against Bryan,
and now it had turned into a waiting game,
and Bryan knew what the caller's intentions
were.
He knew
the man, yes he did. Matter of fact, it
was Bryan's fault the man was there. He
had brought his own destruction, and it
was only a matter of time before the man
outside the front door would get his vengeance
on Bryan.
BANG! BANG!
The man
outside pounded the door, echoing his sentiment
through the house. He did this every few
minutes as maybe an announcement of intention
to enter the home. As it rang out, Bryan
tightened his grip on the tire iron he had
found and was holding for solace. He knew
the weapon would have no effect on the man.
Bryan wiped
the sweat from his brow again as he had
been doing almost every minute since the
lunatic arrived. His muscles tense and he
could feel himself shivering, almost violently
but he had no control over his nerves anymore.
He knew that if he were to faint he would
surely die.
The front
door was now the only way in or out of the
house. The phone line was cut, and his cell
phone had recently been disconnected. He
cursed under his breath over the loss of
the cell phone. He could have had it now
if he had not tried to teach his teenage
daughter a lesson, who had borrowed the
phone and rang up six hundred dollars worth
of calls to talk to her friends. He had
it disconnected until she paid for the charges
she made on it. That didn't matter anymore.
She was dead now, and there was no phone.
The six hundred dollars seemed trivial now.
The windows
had bars on them all that could not be removed.
Bars he had put there for security now had
helped trap him inside with no escape. The
back door was barricaded with his own car.
The maniac outside had driven around the
house into his yard and smashed into the
back door to block him in. It was that crashing
sound that brought his attention to what
was going on outside. By that time it was
too late to save his wife, and his daughter.
They were already dead.
Bryan thought
back to the day he had met the man. It had
been almost a year ago, and Bryan was out
with another woman. He had lied to his wife
about having to work late so he could go
the bar with his new lady friend. She loved
to drink, and Bryan had too much to drink
that night before he left that seedy motel
where they had been together. There was
about a twenty minute drive through the
desert in New Mexico he had to drive through,
off the freeway where the road was almost
always deserted. He chose to drive that
road when he had too much to drink, because
not even the police seemed to patrol the
abandoned stretch of highway anymore.
Bryan never
saw the man walking along side the road
that night until he had already hit him,
and stopped the car to see what happened.
By then the man was dead. His corpse lit
by only the moonlight and the red tail lights
of Bryan's car. He had panicked. He had
spent a year regretting dragging the man
into the desert and burying him in the sand.
BANG! BANG!
The pounding
came again and Bryan braced up again. He
looked worriedly at the door, making sure
it had not started to give under the persistent
beating it was getting. He slowly crept
over to the heavy steel covered exterior
security door and placed his ear against
it. He closed his eyes tightly and strained
to listen. He could hear the low guttural
rattling breath of the man outside, like
fluid was coming up through his throat,
obstructing his airway. It was loud against
the backdrop of the falling rain and brought
more fear into Bryan's already shattered
nerves.
Bryan remembered
dragging the body into the woods, he could
see through the darkness how the man's skull
had broken open against the concrete, leaving
flesh hanging from the side of his face.
His hip was shattered as well, as Bryan
had to drag the man by one leg, or the other
leg would rip off of his body. It took him
two hours to bury him using only his hands.
Just to make things difficult for anyone
who may find the body, Bryan had removed
the man's wallet, wedding ring, watch, anything
he could find that would identify the unfortunate
pedestrian. He wanted to give the police
no extra help in solving this one. Of course,
over the past year, no one had found the
body, and he discontinued his relationship
with his mistress.
BANG! BANG!
The pounding
threw Bryan back from the door. In frustration
he lashed out and started pounding back
with his tire iron screaming out to the
man, "Leave me alone you prick!"
Only silence
came from the other side of the door. No
words, no physical response, just silence.
It was getting too much for him.
Bryan craned
his head forward again and looked through
the peephole to try to look at his assailant.
In the darkness he could see the silhouette
of the man lit up by distant streetlights.
His head was strangely distorted and hanging
from the side was some of the man's flesh.
He knew that wound. He knew somehow the
man had come back for him.
Bryan stormed
up the stairs and made his way into the
bedroom, then into his closet where he pulled
up the rug from the floor. Kneeling down,
he used the tire iron to pry against the
floorboards till one broke loose. Reaching
inside he pulled out a neatly folded bloody
shirt. The blood had dried to a sick crusty
brown color. He quickly unfolded the shirt
and inside were the personal items he took
from the man. He ran over to the window
and threw open the window.
He removed
the items from the folds of the shirt and
threw them out the window, at the ghoul
standing at his front door below. He bellowed,
"Is that what you came for? Is that
what you want?"
The answer
was a deafening silence.
Bryan was
starting to cry. Out on the front walk he
could see his wife's body. She was lying
face down, spread eagle, with a pool of
blood forming beneath her. One of her shoes
were off and lying nearby. She had walked
up to the corner market and was on her way
up the walk with her groceries when she
was attacked from behind. The bag's contents
spilled out in front of her. A big landscaping
rock near her head covered with blood gave
credence to his knowing there was no chance
she could still be alive. The man had crushed
her skull with it.
Bryan backed
away from the window. He could no more look
at his wife's body then he could look at
his daughter's body. When he tried to leave
through the back door, he opened it to see
his teenage daughter's lifeless corpse in
the front seat of his smashed car, with
her throat cut almost all the way through
to the back of her neck.
BANG! CRASH!
The door
downstairs had finally given way and was
open. Bryan rushed down the stairs to see
the door open, hanging by only one hinge,
a large rock just over the threshold. He
stepped outside and looked around. He saw
no one.
Bryan took
one more cautious step, and breathed a sigh
of relief. He could run away now and get
help. The walking cadaver was probably somewhere
in the house searching for him. He felt
as though he should run, but his tired legs
wouldn't let him. He started to chuckle,
and that's when he felt a sharp blow to
the back of his legs.
He yelled
in pain and dropped the tire iron, grasping
his legs in pain. He slowly slumped to the
ground, as he heard the unmistakable sound
of the tire iron being picked up from the
pavement on the front porch, that dragging
sound of steel against concrete and the
slight distinctive ring that followed as
it was lifted clear of the porch.
Bryan turned
around and looked into the face of a man
he buried almost a year before, with clothes
now rags hanging from his putrid rotting
flesh. The falling rain had made him glisten.
Bryan could smell the decay as the figure
moved in close to him, raising the tire
iron with one arm, and grabbing Bryan's
hair with the other. Bryan clenched his
eyes shut, he felt the soft cool rain against
his skin, and then he tensed up for the
blow, but it didn't come.
Bryan could
feel the hot breath on his face as he opened
his eyes. The corpse stood there, tire iron
raised, Bryan's hair in his tight grip,
and face to face with his victim. The man's
mouth opened and he began to speak with
a harsh, grumbling voice, "I just wanted
to tell you why I did this."
Bryan whimpered
and nodded. He was too terrified to speak.
The man
came in closer and Bryan could smell the
breath of dead human flesh filling his nostrils,
making him start to heave as the rancid
stench stifled his own breath.
"The
woman you were sleeping with that night
was my wife. She was so distraught over
loosing me and then you dumping her, she
killed my son, then herself, so I figured
I owed you. Eye for an eye, tooth for a
tooth."
Bryan watched
as the tire iron came down toward his head,
then the world went black.
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