Chapter 1 “Billy"

Billy Simerson grows up fast in the wake of a thriving pandemic.

Billy Simerson was pissed. Not only was he banned from playing his Xbox One but his mother Sharon had taken his laptop away as well. To add insult to injury she had forced him to play outside. 

 "Sumbitch." he muttered to no one in particular as he peeled a branch off one of the cedar hedges and threw the limb into the woods. 

 His family lived in the bedroom community of Prior Lake, Minnesota which was on the outskirts of Minneapolis. His father sold insurance at the prospering May Company located in the heart of the Glass City. Billy didn't rightly know what the hell insurance was but he was certain his father's laptop privileges weren't revoked. For all he knew his Dad was sitting at his desk, playing Minecraft and having a great f*****g time of it.

 He didn't rightly know what "f*****g" meant either but Jerry Jorgenson had just taught him that word and it sounded cool. Really cool. F*****g cool.

 Billy did know that his Dad was in an office downtown and wasn't being subjected to a wintry afternoon outside. The ground had been covered in a fluffy snow in the morning but the rising temps had turned it to the consistency of frigid Cream of Wheat. He kicked at the slush as he trudged towards Jerry Jorgenson's house which was at the edge of the new suburb in which his family resided.

 "Hey Billy!" someone called out to him.

 He recognized the voice of Jerry's father immediately. Mr. Jorgenson was the opposite of his father. He never seemed to work and was always launching small business ventures that never seemed to go anywhere. As far as Billy could tell Mr. J spent most of his time on the couch eating Cheerios and watching sitcom reruns. 

 Billy knew that Jerry's Mom worked at the hospital making x-rays. 

 "She can see your f*****g c**k right through your pants." Jerry had bragged. 

 Once again Billy didn't know anything about x-rays or how they were made, or what a f*****g c**k was for that matter but Jerry was in fifth grade and he knew about that kind of stuff. 

 Jerry's Dad was in the back garden shed clanking away on their brand new snowblower. 

 "That sumbitch cost a thousand dollars." his friend had boasted. 

 Billy's Dad only had a couple of rusty snow shovels. Now that Billy was in 3rd grade he had been put in charge of shoveling. Though it was only November and not really even winter yet he was sick of shoveling. He was sick of that rusty c**k yellow shovel. 

 "F*****g sumbitch." he murmured under his breath.

 "What was that, Billy?" Mr. Jorgenson asked.

 "Is Jerry home?" he said, correcting himself.

 "Nah, he's playing Laser Tag at the mall with the Gunderson Boys." the elder Jorgenson replied.

 Billy could hear Mr. Jorgenson mentioning something else but he ignored him and walked down The Cut. 

 Jerry had shown Billy The Cut in June when The Simerson's had first moved in. It was a beaten deer trail heading down the side of a ravine towards Theis Creek. The deer seemed to have forgotten the trail but a few of the kids in the neighborhood used it religiously. 

 Billy was down there less than the others. Mostly because he wasn't really interested in the buried bucket of nudie magazines that Jerry had stolen from his father. 

 Occasionally he did see something cool. Like a foundered fish or a dead animal. During those times he would poke and prod while the other boys guffawed at the waterlogged pages of t***y books. The boys loved to comment on the pictures.

 "Look at her slit! She ain't got no hair down there!"

 Lewd gestures usually followed. Some wrestled and ribbed each other. Billy really didn't care. The books didn't appeal to him. 

 At this moment he was hoping to find the corpse of some critter. There might even be a fish to bash with a rock. He had just elbowed his way through an alder thicket and was nearly at the creek when he heard the splashing. It was a fish. A big ol' carp trying to work it's way downstream towards deeper water.  Maybe even a trout! 

 Billy slowed down and cautiously skirted the diabolically growing alder. He slipped on some slush and while cursing under his breath sneaked forward.

  Sprawled upon a cluster of rocks in the middle of the creek was a woman. Billy initially thought she was a fish. "A f*****g lunker of a fish." as Jerry Jorgenson would have said. 

 The hair is what made him decide she was human. 

 Though her head was underwater that bronze colored hair trailed in the water like a macabre paint flow. It twisted and undulated . And yet the head moved without an effort to part the surface for a new breath.

 Her skin was the color of a fish belly. Grey also. Sickly grey. Like the color of his Uncle Floyd's skin as he had lain in that hospital bed with the tubes and wires  and died of "The 'Bestos."

 Billy had no idea what "The Bestos'" was either but this fat b***h (another Jorgenson slur) looked like the same color as his brittle Uncle Floyd.

 He wiped his face and walked closer. Completely enamored by her movement. Or the lack thereof. She had her enormous a*s pointed upwards, her head underwater, and bloated limbs languidly trying to gain some form of forward movement. 

 Finally her head broke the surface. She gasped. Sucked air and tea colored water equally; then her head slunk below the surface.

 "Sumbitch." Billy muttered. Then he was tearing back through that awful alder and clawing his way up The Cut. 

 Billy's retreat from The Cut had not ended well. After Billy had scaled the incline Mr. Jorgenson had immediately found him and expressed his concern. "What is it son?' he had asked.

 Billy had vacantly pointed towards towards the ravine. His arm shaking like a piranha fish with Parkinson's.

 Mr. J looked towards the woods. His eyes narrowed and he grasped Billy's shoulders.

 "Is someone down there?"

 Billy began to shiver uncontrollably. Mr. J looked towards the woods again and released the boy. He walked towards the shed and Billy clung to his leg. Mr J looked down at him.

 "Are there some men down there, Billy?"

 It was common knowledge in the neighborhood that transients often camped on the banks of the river. Though Mr. J had never had any problems with the people he had seen shapes scuttling around down in the ravine while doing yard work.

 "Did someone touch you, Billy?"

 The young boy’s lips quivered and he remained silent. Mr. J pried the clinging boy off of his leg and entered the shed. Grabbing an axe off of a hanging hook he faced the terrified child.

 "Will you show me where you were?"

 Billy nodded. The older man grasped his hand and they walked towards The Cut. 

 As the pair walked down the small trail Billy listened intently. He could hear the creek bubbling in the distance. Mr. J looked brave and unconcerned.

 Nearing the alder thicket the older man bent over and pushed branches aside as he wove his way through the mass of limbs living and dead.

 Still some yards away from the creek Mr. J heard the splashing. It wasn't natural and he knew it. Crouching for a minute he listened intently. After looking around briefly he moved forward.

 Breaching the last tangle of limbs he pushed into the opening of the creek bed. Immediately he spotted the woman flailing in the water.

 "Christ, Billy!" Mr. J shouted "That woman is drowning! Why the Hell didn't you say that!"

 The man tossed the axe aside and plunged off the clay bank into the small pool. Rushing through the frigid water he grasped the woman around the torso and pulled her head above the water.

 Grey talons wrapped around his wrists with amazing strength. He balked for a second then tried releasing the woman. Her mouth clamped down on his wrist and he shrieked like a girl seeing a mouse.

 The woman shook her head from side to side and finally flesh and tendon parted from limb. Her claws released Mr. J and pushed the flesh and grizzle into her gaping maw. A darkened tongue licked blood off of finger tips. 

 Mr. J screamed again and fell backwards into the pool. Sobering from the cold water he rolled over like a turtle and scrambled for the bank. Grabbing roots and mud he started clawing his way up the eroded clay bank.

 The creature had other ideas. The scuffle dislodged the woman from whatever had been holding her in place. Taking lunging steps through the waist high water it neared the scrambling man.

 Grabbing a kicking ankle it sank fingers into flesh. Mr. J released hold of the root he had been grasping and fell back into the pool cursing and howling. Still holding the man's ankle the creature stuck it's head into the water and greedily bit into the tender flesh.

 Mr. J flailed in the water and screamed indecipherable epithets. The woman released his ankle and he clawed for the roots again. Heaving himself up at the bank he screamed at Billy.

 "For Christ's sake get some help! Run Billy!"

 Billy ran through the thicket and once again heard the man splash into the pool of muddy water. Screams followed. They were gurgled and guttural. As he ran it sounded as if the woman chortled in pleasure.

 Billy Simerson broke through the edge of the woods and ran towards his parent's rear patio door. Frantically sliding the door open he slid in then slammed it. He fumbled with the catch and finally locked the door.

 Sharon Simerson emerged from the kitchen smiling. The smile instantly faltered.

 "Billy?"

 It sounded like "Beal-ee".

 "Mr. J is in trouble. Something hurt him down by the creek."

 Sharon grinned awkwardly and approached the boy. She was appraising the scratches and muddy clothes with a motherly eye. Wiping a bloody scratch on his forehead she inspected the wound.

 "What did we tell you about fibs?" Sharon replied "And look at these trousers! Gosh you sure make a mess!"

 "I'm not f*****g fibbing!" the boy shrieked.

 Sharon looked confused; as if she had never heard that word before.

 "There's something down in the creek and it has Mr. J!"

 Billy turned around and stared out the back patio door. It was a large 6’x8' providing a commanding view of the woods. He focused on the entrance to The Cut and waited.

 "Billy, I don't know where you learned that word but your father is going to be very disappointed!"

 Billy ignored her and continued watching the wood line. 

 "Did you hear me, Billy!"

 That time Sharon nearly screamed in his ear. Billy turned around and with a callous look stared at his mother.

 "Something is down there." he said nodding his head towards the woods "It hurt Mr. J and it could be following me."

 "Billy! You and your imagination!" the woman exclaimed as she placed her hands on his shoulders and peered out the window with him "I just saw Mr. Jorgensen working on his snowblower."

 At that the wood line branches folded outwards and a naked woman pushed through them.

 "Oh my…" Sharon meekly whispered.

 The woman's large grey breasts jiggled as she trudged towards the Jorgensen house.

 "See! I told you!" Billy argued.

 Sharon paled and watched the naked woman cross the neat lawn and fumble up the patio steps. She pounded on the glass feebly then paused. Looking around she picked up a clay planter filled with browning begonias and awkwardly pitched it against the glass. The window imploded and the woman staggered into the house. 

 "Paige is at work." Sharon mentioned in a trance.

 Billy knew that Mrs. J's first name was Paige. He also knew Mr. J wasn't on the couch with a bowl of Cherrios like usual.

 "Believe me now?" he asked his mother.

 Sharon suddenly yelped. A bloody figure had emerged from the woods. Mr. J was running across the lawn leaving a bloody trail on the patchy snow. His left side was jerking to an awkward rhythm and when he exhaled a spray of bloody mist exited his body as if shot from a blunderbuss. Sharon clapped a hand to her mouth and gasped.

 Mr. J stumbled up the steps and pulled himself through the shattered door glass. After a moment Sharon fled the window and retrieved her phone off the kitchen island. Dialing 911 she held the mobile to her ear. Shaking her head in disgust she held the device in front of her face.

 "How can 911 be busy!" the woman wailed.

 "I'll get my squirrel gun." the boy suggested.

 Taking the steps two at a time Billy plunged towards his room. Under his bed was a Marlin .22 bolt action rifle. Hastily pulling the weapon out he unzipped the oilskin case and picked up the weapon. It had a rich walnut stock and a familiar feel. He had gotten it as a Christmas present last year and his father used to shoot it with him in the backyard until the Briar's down the street threatened to call the police. 

 Cradling the rifle he ran towards his father's office. On top of a bookshelf there was a few boxes of ammunition. Billy laid the rifle on the plush teal carpet and wheeled a burgundy leather computer chair towards the shelf. 

 Climbing onto the chair he stood on tiptoes and felt on top of the bookcase. His fingers grazed a box. Grasping it he tossed it off the shelf and continued fumbling. After mere seconds he located a second box. Ignoring the remaining box of cartridges he jumped down and began to load the tubular magazine. 

 Though the magazine wasn't full Billy still rammed down the charging tube and scurried towards the office window. Looking out he could see Mr. J outside of his house now; standing near the property line and cocking his head as if listening to a gentle song.

 Billy eased the window open and slid the barrel out. The slight noise caused Mr. J to pivot towards him and scream a hair raising howl.

 Billy heard his mother wail in reply downstairs. Mr. J crouched low like a linebacker in wait. Head swiveling and blood dripping in ropey cords.

 Billy drew a bead on center mass and squeezed the trigger. Mr. J jerked as if issuing a tremendous fart. His face shot upwards and he made eye contact with Billy. The whites of his eyes had turned red. Lengths of slobbery blood cascaded from a mouth that seemed to be perpetually set ajar. He started to run towards the patio door. 

 Billy worked the rifle bolt in a panic then aimed downwards. Nothing. He heard breaking glass and his mother's terrified wail. Leaving the office he bounded down the stairs, slipped, then finished the descent on his a*s.

 Running towards the dining room Billy slid around a linoleum covered kitchen floor and came to a skidding stop. Mr. J was astride his mother and the man raked her flesh in frantic swipes with his bloody arms.

 Jerry Jorgensen had a vintage board game that the boys often played. Hungry Hungry Hippo. After turning loose a handful of white marbles into the middle of the game you merely slammed your hand down like a b*****d onto the hippo's back and watched as it hungrily ratcheted up the marbles. It was mechanical and crude. So was Mr. J.

 Sharon leaned her head back and stared at Billy. Her eyes rolled back and became white marbles. Billy lifted the rifle and fired.

 The small caliber slug tore out a furrow of flesh on Mr. J's neck. He stared at the boy and continued clawing. Eventually he bent down and sank his teeth into the fleshy part of Sharon's neck just before the shoulder. Blood erupted and Billy fled; the whole time under the watchful gaze of Mr. J.

 Billy clawed his way back up the bedroom steps and sprinted into his room. He looked out the window and saw the naked woman stolidly jogging towards the Briar house. Billy knew that Mrs. Briar was a stay at home mom and was probably  watching the twins and ironing Mr. Briar's fancy suits. Mr. Briar was a pediatrist and once again Billy had no f*****g clue what that was.  And for once he didn't really care.

 He eyed the bedroom nervously looking for a place to hide. Forgetting to either shut nor lock his door he slid under his bed and panted like a scared animal. With trembling hands he pointed the rifle towards the door.

 The downstairs was silent but Billy was sure that Mr. J was still eating his mother like some mutated Hungry Hungry Hippo. He wiped some tears away and waited. The silence somehow more fearsome than the scene that he had witnessed downstairs.

 As expected a giant crash sounded from the lower level. Billy winced but still remained composed and maintained the barrel of the rifle towards his bedroom door. 

 Dishes could be heard clattering in the kitchen. His mom had been making tuna fish salad before he had gone outside. Billy hated it but ate the s**t anyways. For some reason Billy's mom had thought he loved it; probably because he wore a s**t eating grin while chewing. All the while pretending the fishy crap was a Snickers bar the size of a canoe paddle.

 He sniffled a bit at the memory then stopped when he heard something crashing up the stairs. With tears in his eyes he stared down the dovetail iron sights and held his breath.

 Mr. J had taken a turn for the worst. He was now hunched over in a crooked fashion and was covered in blood and what looked like slices of ham. Billy knew it wasn't ham and just assumed it had come from inside of his mom. One of the pink ribbons slid off of Mr. J and landed in a pathetic pile on a hallway runner. Mr. J heard the noise and his head snapped downwards. Staring at the filth briefly he moved down the hall.

 The thing moved into a guest room and Billy heard furniture being flung about and paintings being ripped off of the wall. A large vase shaped like a Cocker Spaniel and filled with peacock feathers came flying out of the room and crashed into the hallway wall. It had been his grandmother's. 

 After seeming to become locked in a bathroom and undoubtedly destroying everything besides dandruff with his father's bottle of Head and Shoulders the creature managed to extricate himself from the room. 

 It paused in the hallway panted briefly, sneezed as if irritated, then scuttled directly towards Billy. He closed his eyes and tightened a finger on the trigger. 

 The thing came to a skidding stop in the doorway and sniffed loudly. Billy opened his eyes with tremendous effort and watched as the ghoul salivated while seeming to taste the air.

 The young boy drew a bead on Mr. J's head and squeezed the trigger. A little pop like a pigeon fart sounded as the small slug pierced skull. Mr. J threw his hands up to his face and dropped to his knees. He tossed his head side to side a few times flinging a small amount of blood. Then he fell forward onto his face without any fanfare.

 Billy exhaled and wiped some tears from his eyes. Crawling out from under the bed he approached the corpse. He nudged it with the rifle barrel but the body was limp and unmoving. 

 Turning away from the corpse Billy lunged towards his bedroom window. Pulling the curtains aside he looked around the yard for any sign of the naked woman that had been in the creek. 

 As expected she was in his yard. Presently tangled up in some wire tomato baskets and making a real f*****g mess of it Billy noted. 

 Billy slid his window open a fraction and eased the barrel out. By the time Billy had a bead on her head she had extricated herself from the garden and was dragging a pile of the baskets behind; looking infuriated by the noise the baskets produced. She bent slightly, lifted a foot, and began tearing the basket from her ankle. Billy fired. 

 The bullet missed and the woman looked around wildly. If Billy knew words better he would have described her movements as rabid. The young boy ducked down and worked the bolt on the rifle. Before he had time to take aim a pounding on his door distracted him.

 "Mrs. Simerson!" a female voice cried out indignantly "This is Pam Briar!"

 Another flurry of fist pounds sounded on the front door. 

 "Mrs. Simerson! We warned you about that shooting! I'm just going to sit back and let Goldy get shot by a stray bullet!"

 Goldy was the Briar's Labradoodle. As far as Billy could tell the dog was about as motivated as Mr. J. It spent most of it's time laying on an old rug on the back patio. Even Mr. J's corpse was outperforming the dog; as he noticed the corpse has started to twitch slightly. 

 Billy risked a look out the window and saw the grey fleshed woman trudging towards the front yard. It was an awful walk. It reminded him of a fat person walking towards a Golden Coral buffet with an empty plate in hand and deep fried satisfaction on the mind.

 Ignoring Mrs. Briar's pounding he descended the steps and picked up his book bag. He dumped the school supplied out and ran towards the pantry. It contained the typical suburban fare  which the boy filled the bag with. Granola bars, bottles of Snapple, and Little Debbie snack cakes. Looking towards the living room he saw his Mother's corpse in a pool of blood. It was starting to convulse. The eyes had glazed over with a milky tone. Retreating Billy put his spare ammunition in the front pouch of the knapsack then ran into the foyer. Shrugging on his parka he glanced out the side window one final time. The creature was just rounding the corner. After pulling a Minnesota Vikings cap over his head he unlocked the door and sprinted past the startled Mrs. Briar.

 "Does your Mom know you're firing off that rifle? Billy?"

 Billy ran and didn't look back. Suddenly Mrs. Briar screamed. Goldy barked once from down the street as the young boy tore through yards and cursed himself for forgetting his gloves. It was going to be a long walk to The May Company to find his father. 

  

Author's Note

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