Tim Meyer - Less Than Human

Ben didn’t say anything.

“That’s what I thought.”

For ten seconds, no one spoke. Ben nodded. A lump of air nestled in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t say anything,” Ross said. “There’s nothing left to say.”

A low, raspy voice cackled. “Very touchin’. Ya’ll got me teary-eyed.”

The group turned their attention to the crippled hillbilly. He was giggling, amused by the whole situation. Ross stood up, finally able to take his eyes off Landry. He limped over to Otis. He looked down at the beached whale, the one partially responsible (if not fully) for his son’s demise. The images of the fast zombie ripping Landry’s shoulder apart replayed inside his head.

“You…” Ross spoke softly.

“Nagger…” Otis muttered. “How’s that boy of yours? Don’ look so good from ova’ hur.”

Ross screamed. He raised his right foot in the air, bringing it down on Otis’s face with all of his strength. Something cracked, sounding like glass being caught between a shoe and the pavement. Ben assumed it was the bones in the fat man’s face. Otis opened his large mouth and howled. Ross repeated his motion, his face stricken with rage. He watched with satisfaction as several of the hillbilly’s teeth disappeared down the back of his throat. Otis choked. Ross stomped on him again. Blood pooled around his nose, then dripped down both sides of his face. Again. More blood. Gashes opened above his eyes, on his forehead. Again. More blood. More gashes. Cracking sounds. Screams. Ross kept marching on his face, furiously, as if he were trying to put out a small, yet potentially-dangerous fire.

Once Ross finished, his foot tired and aching, the psychopath’s face was nothing but bloody chunks of bone and brain matter. He stopped when the splattering became too much. He glanced up from the fat man’s grisly display and saw some of the zombies were getting too close for comfort.

“Go,” Ross told the group.

“What are you going to do, man?” Ben asked.

“I’m going to bury my son,” he croaked tearfully.

Ben opened his mouth to argue.

“Go.”

Ben fixed his eyes on Ross, who avoided his gaze. Finally, Josh walked up behind Ben and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Come on. We can’t stay any longer,” Josh told him.

“We need to get my daughters,” Victoria told them.

Reluctantly, Ben began walking away from Ross. He watched the somber man bend down and scoop his boy into his arms.

Ben turned toward the Barker’s house, wishing he could have done more to change the man’s mind.

Victoria stopped in front of the barn. “How do we find Brit and Emily?” she asked. She turned to the others. Behind them, an army of zombies had gathered. The survivors had put distance between them, but there were more of them than they had anticipated. One hundred or so corpses had found their way into the corral.

“They probably put them back in the cages,” Josh suggested.

“We should split up,” Ben said. “Victoria come with me. Josh, go with Paul. You guys go around to the front of the house. We’ll take the back. We’ll clear the house and meet up in the basement.”

“What if that crazy bitch and her mother are still inside?” Paul asked.

“We’re going to clear the house,” Ben repeated.

Paul nodded, understanding perfectly.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” Ben said, heading toward the barn, which led to the back of the house.

Josh opened the front door. He glanced back and saw the pickup truck sitting on the front lawn. He was relieved to find the yard void of zombies. As long as they survived whatever waited inside, they’d have a clear shot at the highway with no obstacles.

He crept into the door, weaponless. Paul followed.

“Maybe you should go first,” Josh whispered.

“Good idea,” Paul agreed. “Which way?”

Josh pointed to the right of the staircase, down a long corridor leading to the kitchen. Paul followed his direction and crept forward, cringing each time he planted his foot and heard the creak of the old wooden floorboards. Josh’s nerves swam violently, fearing the noise would alert their enemies. He suspected their intrusion wouldn’t go unnoticed, in fact, he would find himself surprised if the two Barker women didn’t already know about their arrival. He was worried they would find Brit and Emily dead, murdered for what had happened to the Three Little Pigs. The women were probably watching the entire hunt on the surveillance cameras.

They tiptoed through the dining room and continued toward the kitchen. Josh thought about taking off his shoes to lessen the clatter, but he figured it wouldn’t do much. Besides, he might need to run. Fast. Outside.

The kitchen became visible and Josh noticed something on the floor. Red droplets. A trail of them. Leading to the kitchen. Josh followed the trail with his eyes, spotting a big red puddle in the middle of the floor. He placed his hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“I know,” Paul whispered. “I see it.”

They both peered into the doorway. They couldn’t see right or left, their vision blocked by walls on both sides.

“I can’t see anything,” Josh said.

Paul inched closer and peered into the kitchen, sticking his head into the doorway. He was careful not to give away his position to anyone who might be waiting for them inside. What he saw was limited, but useful. Another trail led away from the puddle. He followed it, but the door frame blocked wherever it led to. He glanced up, saw a row of cabinets on the far wall. An island lay in the middle of the kitchen. Papers, mail, and a telephone sat on the counter haphazardly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Paul saw something move.

It was a dark figure. Tall. It disappeared into the shadows of the unlit room.

Paul turned to Josh. He nodded, signaling it was time to go in.

Josh nodded back in agreement.

Quickly, they entered the kitchen. Paul had his rifle drawn, ready to fire on anything or anyone he considered a threat.

What the two of them saw made their mouths drop.

The trail of blood led to a headless corpse, which lay on the floor in front of them. Blood leaked onto the tile floor from where the woman’s head used to be. The body was clad in a purple sun dress, yellow sunflowers printed on it.

Josh averted his eyes. Momma Barker’s head had been placed on the island intentionally. Josh saw Bobbi-Jo had been strapped to the kitchen table. She was naked, her mouth covered with duct tape. Two long streaks of black mascara ran down her cheeks. She squirmed, but it was useless. Someone knew what they were doing when it came to tying knots. Bobbi-Jo saw Josh and Paul enter the room and screamed.

“Oh…” a familiar voice uttered from where they had entered the room. Josh and Paul spun around. Paul raised his rifle at the murderer’s face. “Good to see you again…”

“You…” Josh felt sick. The psycho’s body was drenched in gore from head to toe. Blood splatter hid most of his face like a Halloween mask. Naked, he wore the old woman’s blood like a scarlet suit. The sick bastard smiled, his teeth perfectly aligned and unstained. His cold, soulless eyes locked onto Josh’s. Making eye-contact with him turned his stomach.

“So glad you could join the party,” Jason said.

Ben kicked in the screen door, making his presence known. Not exactly the wisest of plans, but he figured he could draw the two remaining Barkers to the rear of the house, allowing Paul and Josh to reach the basement without being harassed. The plan made sense, at least in theory. Ben assumed there were would be complications, just as there had been every step of the way.