Duane
“I plead my need to the tree. My time and mind for the fee. A night of fright upon me. Nothing in this world is free. Except for a twenty-one speed Mountain Bike.” Since it was probably going to work tonight, I needed a replacement for my stolen bike more than I needed some new shoes. This time I was positive that saying the rhyme gave me a tingly feeling. Last night I wasn’t so sure, but tonight I was, I could feel the spell clinging to me. Sleep came on swiftly.
I was in an old house of peeling paint and wallpaper, looking out of one of the upstairs windows. Everything was a hazy yellow, the sun, the sky, the ground, the sidewalks. There really wasn’t much more out there, just a bunch of open space, dirt and sand, where the neighborhood used to be. Nothing from the dust on the street to the horizon except for more yellow dirt, dust and sand.
The house was under siege, but I don’t really know why or by who, I hadn’t seen the attackers yet. I knew they were coming but I wasn’t sure from where yet. Armed with a hand scythe and an AK-47, I scout for the threat I know is coming.
The hum is not deafening, but it is loud and coming from all directions. The noise is not distinctive, like white noise but it seems to resonate in my bones, my jaw and head. It makes me weak and seems to get louder without increasing in volume. The hum lets me know it’s about to happen but I can’t tell what it is.
I finally notice, scattered all over the lawn, roughly twenty feet from each other are pairs of rings the size of my fist and intuitively I know this is the source of attack. Jumping out of the upstairs window, I run to the nearest set of rings. The rings are attached to cables and as I pull on the rings the cables tear and un-zip a circlet of earth, the ground releases a pop of a vacuum being unsealed. The circle of earth slides up and to the side while a blob of white seethes and oozes out of the hole.
The blob is segmented like the Michelin man with thick arms and black chitinous eyes. I have no choice, I cut its throat with the scythe and it spasms and screams an accompaniment to the white noise. Yellow gas and dust escape from the gash in its throat until it deflates and quiets. I scurry to next set of rings and repeat the process, then again. I feel that I may win, I can beat this.
They start hatching on their own.
I no longer try to set them free but try to cut them down as they are escaping the earth. The noise is louder now and I can’t keep up with the rate these Maggot men are hatching. I run back to the house and enter though the front door.
Firing out of the windows I realize the Maggot men are easy to take down, one bullet deflates them. I run back and forth between the front and back of the house picking them off, while the humming increases its pressure. I keep them at bay, but it takes all I have.
While up front I hear the glass breaking for the first time; it was one of the back windows. I turn around and realized that there are four of them in the house. I try not to panic and hope that I can kill these and get back on track.
I see the Maggot men and they are no longer fat and slow like they were but they have thinned up and have become agile and quick. I fire at them but they are hard to hit now. When I do hit them they explode to dust, but there are too many for me. I retreat upstairs, to the landing and fire at them as they come up. I feel relief, I can hold them off here. They are lining up on the stairs and every so often I can take two out with one bullet. It would be a turkey shoot if they were actually turkeys.
My confidence grows. Turkeys or not. I hear more glass breaking upstairs, my left flank. I cannot fight them off from both sides. I retreat to the bathroom. I shut the door and prepare to barricade it when I see myself in the mirror. There is tall and grim old lady standing behind me. She reaches up under my left arm and grabs my hair with one impossibly strong arm, putting me in a half nelson. I recognize the drill bit, it one of those big brass ones with a miniature bit on the end. It’s at least twelve inches long and bigger than my thumb; when it starts up, she puts it to the back of my skull. The drill is impossibly loud and the hum is replaced with hollow rattle as I feel it digging into my skull. I can’t believe that I am dying, I just can’t believe it. My gaze is fixated on my mirror image as the miniature bit exits my forehead. I wake up knowing that I have died.
“Jesus Christ!” I grabbed my forehead and I was confused for a bit before I noticed it was only sweat making my head wet. I have had some pretty crazy nightmares in the past but that was not right at all.
-
Soaked in sweat, I hang my clothes up and head for the shower. Even though I got a full night’s sleep, I was exhausted, that fright took a lot out of me. Half way through my shower I realized that I took the Lords name in vain; I then realized there was a reason for my blasphemy. I hurry up and when I get back in my room I see the bike sitting in the corner. Somehow seeing the bike made it all better. The dream sucked like a son of a gun, but not having to walk everywhere would be great.
Food tasted so good. Mother asked me if I was going through another growth spurt. I said “Yes Ma’am, I think so. I’ve been pretty tired lately.” I ended up packing away nearly twice as much as I usually did at breakfast.
I spent the morning playing games and sneaking snacks. Around 11 o’clock I called over to Lucas’ house but his Mother said he had left for the park already. It was early, but I loaded up a six pack of Red pop, a package of frozen Raspberry Zingers, and a box of Red Hots in a thermally insulated backpack and headed to the park on my new bike. I hoped to talk with Lucas before the others got there.
Lucas is up on the Big Rock like usual. This time he’s got a remote controlled monster truck he is driving around a makeshift obstacle course. He waves at me as I pull up, “Nice bike Dude!”
“Thanks. Nice truck. Is it a present from Malcolm?”
“Yep. Do you think these things were worth it?”
“I think so, it was a pretty screwed up dream, but I haven’t had a bike in a while.”
He stops driving for a few and looks at me. “What is the big deal anyway? It’s not like your Parents can’t replace your bike.”
“They think it was my own fault that I lost my bike, so they are making me live with the consequences for a while before they are going to hook me up.”
“Your bike was stolen. Isn’t that a jerk move on their part?”
“Not really, they just don’t want me to take things for granted. Most of it is from my Father. Supposedly, Grandfather worked his butt off to put him through School, so he wants me to respect that even we don’t need to worry about money now, it wasn’t given to us.”
“So you aren’t pissed at your parents?”
“You know I’m not. I know they both care for me, they just don’t want me to become like Chad.”
Lucas has his monster truck circle me a couple times. “So you aren’t a fan of Chad?”
“Chad is cool as long as he’s being normal, but if you get him anywhere near his Mother, Father, Mark or pretty much anyone else he becomes a jerk.”
He tries to run his truck into my ankle but I lift my foot. He asks, “So what did you dream about?”
“I got attacked by Maggot Men things for a while then an old lady used a power drill on my head.”
“Fantastic. I started floating and I couldn’t stop until I was really high up, then I fell. I landed on iron fence. It cut me in half.”
“Are you going to keep asking for stuff?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, probably. I bet you won’t though.”
He was right. “Why do you say that?”
“You are too practical, you don’t care about having stuff. Sometimes I wonder if you are even a kid. But then I see your pimply face and it becomes obvious.”
His reason was only partly right. “I’m pretty sure that I won’t ask anymore unless it’s something I could really use. But it’s not just because I don’t care about having stuff. Up until we met Malcolm, I didn’t feel one way or another about this. But M
alcolm is not a nice guy and that part of the woods gave me the Willies.” I add, “Oh, by the way, if anyone asks, you gave me the bike.”
Lucas laughs. “Man, that’s a first. You never tell a fib.”
We hung out and relaxed while waiting for everyone else to show up. While we were hanging out, a couple young tow headed boys came by and were fascinated by Lucas’ truck. Lucas chased them around with the truck while they giggled until one of their Mothers came by to round them up, while giving Lucas a scolding look.
One by one, everyone started showing up, Chad was last and late again. He looked exhausted. The vibe about this whole situation was getting worse. I ask Chad if he is alright. But he just shrugs and says he is tired.
Timmy was decked out in some new threads. Boomer had a new phone and was playing a game. Chad showed up empty handed. Unlike Lucas and me, the others declined to share the nightmares. Mark’s response was to light up a smoke.
“What the hell Mark!” Everything and I mean everything I have seen or heard has put the greatest fear into me about smoking cigarettes.
He shrugs at me, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Those things are just so bad for you.”
He gives me an angry look then asks, “Really, Duane, really?”
Everyone looks to me. Sometimes I get nervous when everyone watches me. Mark asked me, so I answer, “Yes, Really! There is all kinds of