Sam Williams - Tales from the Swollen Corpse

“Hey Angel, you showed.” She backed away as Victor hopped the fence again.

“Of course I showed.” She said, giving him a big hug. “Where you headed?”

“Mom said I might find Ricky down at Hector’s.”

Holding him at arm’s length “I’ll drive.”

“I don’t know Angie. The vibe I am getting, that may not be a good idea.”

“Listen, I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, if that’s your ride, it sucks.” she said, pointing at the sedan.

“Ok Angel.” They jumped into her car and headed off as the low hanging sun turned the smoggy sky a dark purple.

Hector had lived in a dilapidated detached garage behind his parent’s house since high school. He had been Ricky’s best friend since elementary. Victor’s Mom thought of him as a sweet, but dumb kid and when the two got into trouble she laid the blame on Hector, but never stayed mad long. Angie pulled into the alley and parked the car.

“I want you to stay in the car and lock the doors.” Angie began to protest and Victor cut her off with just a look. He reached into his bag and pulled out a fifty caliber desert Eagle and holster which he put on under his jacket.

“How the hell did you get that on the plane?” Angie asked in astonishment.

“Angie, you know you can ask me anything but…”

“I know, I know, I can’t ask about whatever it is you do. Vic, be careful.”

With that Victor shut the door. He heard a click of the locks behind him. Heading around the garage Victor noticed the weeds had gotten out of control. Even in front of the side door that Hector used for an entrance. There were no lights on in either the main house or the garage. The only sound was a neighbor’s dog barking in the distance. Victor didn’t think anyone was home and from the looks of things no one had been there in awhile. A smell seemed to loom in the air, one he knew well. Sometimes his team got bad Intel and they were too late for the party. That’s where he knew the smell from, it was the smell of death and rot.

He knocked on the garage’s side door with one hand and kept the other on the gun. Everything was quiet at first, then he thought he heard something. It almost wasn’t a sound at all, but a faint hiss and it wasn’t coming from in the garage but from all around Victor. It was saying, “Come in”. Victor pulled the gun out and tried the door but it was blocked. It took a couple pulls on the rusted handle before the weeds gave way.

The garage was completely dark and the smell was strong inside. He could hear the buzz of flies in the air. The layout seemed the same from when he had been there in years past. A little TV on a table in front of a couch, behind it the table they used to play poker at and in the far corner a bed. Victor quickly got out of the light that was now coming in from the doorway. He crept along the wall with the desert eagle guiding the way. The sides of the garage were lined with things that belong there; tools, a lawn mower, etc. As he moved, his eyes adjusted. He could make out someone sitting in a chair by the table behind the couch. If it was Hector, he wasn’t moving and the smell suggested he wouldn’t be.

Slowly and cautiously, Victor walked until he was behind the sitting figure. Reaching out, he pulled the chain to the bulb which hung above the table. The light flickered on with a hum and bounced on the cord. The dancing light illuminated the room and the thing sitting in the chair. It was a corpse and from the back it did seem to be Hector. Victor lowered the gun but raised it back fast; as he walked around to face it, the sunken-in clouded white eyes were following him.

Hector never looked healthy in life and in death he was just plain hard to look at. His skin had once been a light brown but now it was a pale blue. He always kept his head shaved, but now it was growing back in patches and every part of him glistened with the slime of decomposition. Someone hadn’t wanted him to go anywhere because they had chained him to the chair with heavy gauge chain and bolted the ends of the chain to the concrete floor. Other than his eyes he didn’t move. Victor heard the hiss again, this time it was saying, “blood”.

In Victor’s line of work it was mandatory to be fast at figuring out what needed to be done in any situation. He needed info and it didn’t look like Hector was going to able to talk without some help. With gun holstered, he walked over and picked up an old greasy coffee can off the floor. Dumping out the contents of nuts and bolts on the floor, he put the empty can on the table. Lying by it on the table was a pair of pliers next to two very long canine teeth lying in a pool of dried blood. Also on the table was a cigarette lighter, which he picked up. Looking around, he found a hacksaw hanging on the wall. Taking the saw, he lit the lighter and held the flame under the jagged blade. When it was cool enough to handle, he pinched the blade between his thumb and forefinger and used it to tear a small gash on the back of his forearm. Victor let the blood drip into the can until there was enough to pour. He picked up the can and putting his hand on Hectors sticky cold forehead, he pulled back, opening up his mouth. He could see the gaps where teeth had been as the blood poured into Hector’s mouth.

When the last drop trickled, Victor dropped the can and let go of Hector’s head. Taking a step back, he put pressure on his arm while he watched Hector for any change. Suddenly Hector’s head rose by itself, his eyes were a little less milky and focused on Victor.

“Vic–tooor mooooore Victooor.” It was the hiss again but this time it had hints of Hectors voice and it was no longer disembodied.

“No Hector, I need to find Ricky. Do you know where he is?”

There was a long silence. Hector’s gaze never dropped and with each second he seemed to be getting stronger.

“He’s with Michael.” Hector’s voice was almost normal now but was strained from the incredible hunger.

“Who’s Michael, Hector?”

“Please Victor, give me more, I am so hungry.”

“I need to find Ricky, who is Michael, Hector?” Victor said with frustration as he pulled the gun out and pointed it at his reanimated friend.

“Victor, bullets don’t hurt me anymore but your smell does. I smelled you when you came and it makes me so hungry.”

Victor put his gun away. Lifting up his arm so Hector could see the wound he pinched it, causing blood to drip on the ground.

“If you want this, you better tell me what I want to know or I am leaving you here with this puddle to smell.”

“You can find Michael’s place up on the hill, the last driveway before the Point. If Ricky’s not dust, he’ll be there. If you go there they will kill you Victor.”

“Who did this to you Hector?” Victor asked, hoping his friend would stay lucid.

“Two of Michael’s soldiers, they said I brought too much attention so they left me to starve as punishment. I was a recruiter, but always too hungry. I fucked things up. Now please, the hunger hurts so bad.”

“What do you mean recruiter?”

Hector didn’t answer but began to look around the room and ramble. “So hungry, so long. You know I killed them. I killed my little girl, my Mom, my Dad; I killed them and drained them. “

Victor walked over and picked up a can of gas by the lawn mower. He walked back to Hector. Hector cocked his head to look up at Victor with a smirk and white eyes. In war, Victor had seen some horrible things but the face looking at him now made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Are you going to help me Vic?”

“Yes, Hector.”

Angie noticed smoke coming from the garage and the light from inside turn to a bright flicker just as Victor tapped at the car window. She unlocked the door and he opened it and jumped in.