J. Gonzalez - Back From The Dead

But he knew that in the grand scheme of things, what was happening to him and his family was very serious. For his sake, for the sake of his future, for the sake of his parents, they had to leave.

A sudden knock on the front door snapped Tim out of his thoughts. He turned down the TV’s volume with the remote, then got up and headed to the front door.

Gordon Smith stood on the front porch. He tilted his head in a greeting. “Hey, Tim. What’s up?”

Tim’s stomach clenched. A burst of anger flared within him. “What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Really? Maybe you should talk to me through my attorney. I’ll get you his number.” He was just about to close the door in Gordon’s face, the anger and rage racing through him now so much it took all his will-power to control it.

“Wait! I need your help!”

Tim paused and something in Gordon’s voice and demeanor diluted his anger. “You need my help? Are you out of your mind? I tried to help you before but you framed me!”

“I know and I’m sorry!” For the first time Tim saw a look on Gordon’s face he’d never seen before. Fear. “But you’re the only person I can come to with this. It’s about — “

“You think I can trust you now after you lied to the police?”

“No, I don’t.” Gordon hesitated a moment, and now Tim’s anger subsided even more. The look of fear in Gordon’s eyes was genuine.

Tim dropped his guard slightly. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about that book you loaned me and why the police found it at Reamstown Cemetery,” Gordon began. “And its about…some really fucked up shit that’s been going on because of it.”

“The only fucked up shit is you vandalizing a cemetery and trying to blame me for it,” Tim muttered.

“I admit, I vandalized that grave,” Gordon said. “But it wasn’t done with the intention of framing you, I swear. It was to…gather material…to cast a spell…”

Now it was Tim’s turn to be surprised. “ What ?”

Gordon glanced around the neighborhood. “Can I come in? I’ll tell you everything.”

Tim almost told him no at that point. Almost told him to fuck off, but something about Gordon’s demeanor spoke to him. He’s scared out of his mind .

That decided it. He opened the screen door. “Come in.”

Gordon stepped inside and Tim shut the door.

As Gordon began telling Tim the events of the past few weeks, Tim felt a strange sense of disbelief along with a mixture of dread.

Tim was sitting in the easy chair by the living room window, Gordon on the sofa. He’d retrieved cokes for them, and Gordon sipped his as he told Tim what was going on. He started by telling Tim about the wilding sprees, which surprised and shocked him. As much as a pack of assholes Scott Bradfield and his friends were, he never imagined they would be insensitive psychopaths. As quickly as that thought came, though, it went away as the memory of that horrible day from six years ago rose in his mind, unbidden.

He’d been walking home from school that late spring day, minding his own business as usual. The day had been largely uneventful. A math test, an assembly for preparation for the sixth grade class graduating ceremonies. Lunch and recess. Same old shit. Scott Bradfield and his stupid friends had been pestering him again, but they were dorks. Tim avoided them whenever possible anyway, and usually spent his time hanging out with his friend Richard Pilson, who would later move out of the area with his family. During study hall he spent his time reading a really cool book by Stephen King, ‘Salem’s Lot , which was about vampires. Tim was engrossed in the story, and had not been able to put the book down since picking up the worn paperback from the crammed bookshelf that was in the third bedroom of their condo. Good thing he’d completed his homework early.

He was thinking about nothing in particular, only wanting to get home and get back into the book, and was just in the middle of a lonely stretch of road where a large field lay on his right, when he heard them approach from behind.

Scott Bradfield and his friends Dave Bruce and Steve Downing. They were running toward him fast, closing the gap. A yell sounded and Tim caught a momentary glimpse of the look in their eyes before he turned tail and ran.

They had too great a lead on him and caught up with him after fifty yards. Scott grabbed him, holding him back. Immediately Tim had gone on the defensive, trying to talk his way out of a physical confrontation. Scott had beaten him up last year on the way home from school, not enough to raise concern with his parents (who hadn’t noticed he’d been in a fight, nor had he told them; he’d been too embarrassed), but the experience was enough to make him avoid Scott whenever possible. In the year that passed, Scott had occasionally set his sights on Tim, who’d done everything he could to get out of Scott’s radar. It usually worked.

Not this time, though.

“All right!” Scott said, clutching Tim’s jacket. He began herding Tim into the field. “Got something I want to show you, Gaines.”

“Listen, I really got to — ”

Dave and Steve were laughing as they stood on either side of him, helping Scott herd him into the field. “You’re gonna love this, Count Gaines!”

Count Gaines? That had been the first time the nickname was used and at the time Tim didn’t know what they meant by it. “What?” he asked.

“You’ll see!” Scott’s grip was solid. As they walked into the field, Tim caught a glimpse of Scott’s features. There was something in his eyes that sent shards of fear through Tim’s body. They were cold, calculating. They spoke volumes, and Tim had the sense that something very bad was about to happen to him.

Tim tried pulling away, tried protesting, but it was no use. They overpowered him and Dave socked him in the upper thigh, giving him a Charlie horse. He tried yelling at the top of his lungs but another blow to the face cut it off. Scott loomed over him, telling him he didn’t have to make a big deal out of this…they just wanted to show him something, just wanted to help him. Tim was out of breath, scared, confused, and he let the three boys lead him deeper into the field where they suddenly stopped.

At first the smell did not register with Tim. He was so worked up with fear that he hadn’t noticed it until they were standing directly over it. Tim was practically touching it with the tips of his shoes. A cloud of flies swarmed up at their arrival, buzzing frenziedly, then landing on what appeared to be a lump of fur.

“I shot it this morning with my.22,” Scott said. “Blood should still be fresh. Go ahead, have a sip, Count.”

Tim had stared down at what he now took to be a dead possum. There was an animal smell of sweat and shit. “What are you talking about?”

Scott’s fingers had pressed down on his neck, forcing him to his knees in front of the dead possum. Scott hissed in his ear. “Vampires drink blood, don’t they, Count?”

Steve and Dave laughed, crowding in closer.

“I saw that book you’re reading,” Scott said, holding him down. “About vampires. You want to be a vampire, Count?”

Tim almost shouted, almost pleaded, no, I don’t want to be a vampire, I just want to go home ! Instead he made one more valiant attempt at escape. He forced himself up only to be brought back down by Scott and his friends. He fell to his knees in front of the possum. The flies buzzed up again, circling.

“Fucking weirdo is what you are,” Scott growled in his ear. His fingers dug into his collarbone. “Always reading books about ghosts and witches and vampires. And that fucking Harry Potter shit! What are you, a fucking devil worshipper?”