Tim Curran - Resurrection

Jacky made Chrissy sit on the floor and hopped Lisa up on one of the tables. Barely concealing his lust, he ran his fingers up and down Lisa’s body. She was completely unaware of it.

“Which one you want?” Jacky said. “I’m taking the brunette first. I’ll show you how to make her squeal. You wanna start with this blonde?”

Harry just shook his head. “I don’t want either.”

“Fuck you mean? You going gay on me?”

“I ain’t banging no kids and these girls are kids,” Harry said.

Chrissy saw a ghost of a chance now. Harry might help them or he might just stand aside and watch it happen. There was no way to know. He was hard-looking, looked like he might be capable of being very violent, but he did not have that look about him that Jacky Kripp had: that predator look.

Jacky lit a cigarette. “Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Harry said, “They put me in Slayhoke because I stole cars. They didn’t put me there for rape and when they put me back, ain’t gonna be no rape on my record. You hear?”

“You’re starting to piss me off, Harry.”

“Tough shit.”

“I’ll fucking deal with you later.” He looked down at Chrissy. “I’m gonna take you, you hot little bitch, you know that, don’t you? But I want you to give it to me. I don’t want to have to beat it out of you.”

Chrissy’s lips trembled. “You’ll have to.”

“You see that, Harry? She’s feisty. Brunettes are always feisty. And when they’re feisty that means they like to fuck. You like to fuck, sweetheart?”

Chrissy wouldn’t look at him.

“Sure she does, Harry. Just look at her. Born to want cock. Nothing wrong with that.” Jacky kissed Lisa, drew his tongue over her lips. “Nothing wrong with this blonde here, Harry. Nice big tits. You like big tits, don’t you?”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Jacky looked back at Chrissy. “I’m thinking you either give it up for free, honey, or I’m going to rape your friend here right in front of you. What do you say to that? You wanna watch me hurt her? You wanna watch her scream? Is that what you want me to do with your friend?”

“Fuck off,” Chrissy said.

She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but she wasn’t exactly afraid. After what she saw out in that rain, she knew there were far worse things than cheap hoods like Jacky Kripp.

He laughed, spit out his cigarette, and tore Lisa’s blouse open. With his knife, he cut away her bra. He studied her round, perky breasts, liking what he saw. But Lisa was oblivious. Jacky didn’t like that. He gripped her breasts roughly, squeezing and fingering them, pinching her nipples. Lisa trembled, but that was about it. Jacky put his mouth to her breasts and began to lick and suck them.

Harry said, “All right, goddammit, that’s enough.”

“Who the hell you think you’re talking to?”

Here it comes, Chrissy knew.

Either Harry found some decency and stood up to Kripp or he cowered away and they both got raped and murdered. What was it going to be? Already, Chrissy was eyeing up that chemical glassware. You shattered one of those beakers or flasks and you could get a nice piece of glass to fight with…or to slit your wrists with.

Jacky went right over to Harry, but Harry stood his ground.

“You wanna fucking repeat that?” Jacky said.

“I didn’t bust out to rape kids,” Harry said. “I ain’t doing it and neither are you.”

“And you’re gonna stop me?”

“Yeah…I guess I am.”

Jacky brought up the knife, looked like he was ready to swing into action, but sounds out in the hallway stopped him. There were people out there and quite a few by the sounds of it. Both Jacky and Harry froze, looking at each other and those dragging sounds coming down the corridor. A revolting stink of bad meat came wafting through the partially-opened door. You could see by the looks on their faces that they were not liking this.

Chrissy stood up and pulled Lisa down from the table, she brought her around the front of the classroom, forced her to hide behind a long, low counter with her. Then she peeked around the corner, waiting for it, whatever this was going to be. She had seen those things out in the rain, out in the water, but never close up.

And now that was about to change.

Jacky and Harry ran over to the counter and ducked behind it, too, dousing one of the lanterns. The other still burned brightly over near the specimen cases. The door slammed open and the dead came in. The first two were bad enough. One was a dark-haired girl that could have been Chrissy after a couple days in the ground. She was thin and wraithlike, dressed in a dirty Aeropostle sweatshirt, her eyes black and shining, standing out in great contrast to the pale gray skin of her face. There was an older guy with her, middle-aged when he died, his face the color of fresh cream and blotched with open sores. The third one was barely human. He was naked and bloated, his face so distended with gas that you could barely see his eyes.

And the stink of them…nauseating.

They paid no mind to the light. They went up to those glass cases as if they’d sniffed out what was in there and yanked the doors right off their hinges, shattering them on the floor. You could hear the glass crunching under their feet. Quietly, they began examining what was in all those jars, tossing most aside violently, crashing them against the walls. The stink of pickled flesh and formaldehyde was horrible. It filled the room as more jars were broken open.

But then they found the human specimens.

Lids were unscrewed carefully and white, puckered things removed. The zombies began eating them, chewing on rubbery organs and appendages like they were pickled eggs. The naked man shattered the vessel with the two-headed baby in it, that white and grotesque thing. He picked it up and gnawed on it. The girl had a bleached human heart she was working on and the other guy had what might have been a liver. The room was filled with tearing and slurping and chewing sounds.

“Holy Christ in hell,” Harry said under his breath.

Chrissy was biting down on her lip so she wouldn’t cry out or vomit, maybe both. Even hardassed old Jacky Kripp was as white as what was in those jars. He had the knife in his hand and he was shaking. And then, at the worst possible moment, Lisa shook and blinked her eyes. She was coming out of her fugue and a look of utter disgust spread over her features. Harry clamped a hand over her mouth and she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

But maybe there was something in his look, because she settled down right away.

There was nothing the four of them could do.

Nothing but sit there and listen to that grisly feeding as the things went through the cases, chomping and sucking embalmed meat from old bone.

Chrissy was terrified and sickened, of course, but right then something else came over her, displacing all else. She felt something cold building around them, something primal and diseased and absolutely malefic.

Then a little red rubber ball bounced around the end of the counter, right past Jacky’s shoes.

You could almost hear him think: What in the fuck?

But he didn’t have to wonder for long as a blurry shape darted around the edge of the counter and of all things it was a clown. A clown. A clown in an orange-and-yellow checked suit that was stained with filth and dried blood, moss-green pom-poms down the front, an electric blue jester hat on its head replete with tinkling bells. Its face was white and bloated, eyes the color of mucus glistening from black diamonds.

“Hey, kids!” it said. “Grimshanks here! Want to see a trick? A real funny trick?”

Jacky made a sort of screaming sound and then the clown launched itself at him, its yellow teeth sinking into his face and scraping against the skull below, peeling his face right off with a meaty rending sound. Jacky Kripp was a hardass around the prison block, a real terror, but he didn’t stand a chance against that thing that took him. It peeled his face off and then took hold of his bloody head and smashed it against the counter until what was in his skull slopped over the floor.