Hannah sat with her back against a large oak, her mind teetering at insanity’s jagged edge. The night air pressed against her naked flesh, but she wasn’t cold. How wonderful would it be, she wondered, to fall into that abyss, a place where it didn’t matter if the world made any sense?
At her feet was a long, shallow hole, newly dug. It confused her. She didn’t know where she was, and she knew very little of whom she was. She had a name. Hannah. Other names came to her. Jerry. Jacob. They were just names.
She found that her limbs were stiff when she tried to move. Slowly, she brought fingers to her chest and touched the still fresh Y-shaped wound that ran from her chest to her navel. A thought came to her. It couldn’t be an autopsy incision, because . . . .
She began to probe the wound, to pull apart the poor stitching and dip her fingers into the gaping cavity beneath. A dull throb rocked her body.
Inside she was empty, completely hollowed out.
No, she thought. The Dead don’t think. The Dead don’t walk.
She reached deeper until her fingers grazed her spine. With no lungs, she couldn’t even scream, so she let her mind do it for her.
A distant light through the forest caught her attention. She stood on stiff legs and began to walk toward it, unsure of what it was and hoping that the source of the light might provide answers. Branches snagged at her hair, briars ripped her dead flesh, as though the forest was trying to stop her. Hannah continued.
Images, like poor quality snapshots, began to flash in her head. Smiling parents, friends and lovers she couldn’t quite recall, all flickered in her mind. Her wedding, her husband Jacob, their son Jerry, all of them flashed before her. Sweet little Jerry, so tiny. Thoughts of the baby warmed her hollow insides.
She came closer to the light and the memory of the crash slammed into her. The winding backwoods roads that led to her in-law’s place in Silver Point, the large rock that shattered the windshield, her screams mingled with the baby’s cries as the car veered off the road; the memories kept coming. The man dressed in dark clothing that came to pull them free of the car before blackness engulfed her. Yes, she remembered him now.
The source of light was coming from a small shack. Hannah could hear movements and sounds coming from within. A child’s cry, her child’s cry.
Hannah shambled to the hovel and climbed the weathered steps to the porch. She made her way to the window, where she could see through the ragged curtains into the shack.
Hanging from chains on the ceiling were the skinned carcasses of many small animals. A rusty color stained the floor from where their life dripped during skinning. On a small wooden table, she could see a heart, lungs, and other organs, all of which were too large to be anything but her own.
A tall, slender man at the rear of the shack was stirring a large kettle that sat atop a wood-burning stove. Nine-month-old Jerry hung naked and upside down from the ceiling, shrieking and wiggling. His powder blue blanket lay neatly folded on the floor.
Rage filled the hollow where her organs once lived. She began to pound on the shack’s thin walls.
The lanky cook turned around, wooden spoon in his hand. His face was not the monster Hannah had expected. He was clean-shaven and his hair was neatly trimmed, but his eyes were predatory. He wiped a hand on the leather apron he wore and licked his lips.
He dropped the spoon into the kettle and picked up a hatchet from an array of bladed tools near the stove.
Hannah watched as he made his way across the blood-caked floor, wanting him to come to her.
“Who’s there?” his voice was small, almost feminine.
Hannah pounded harder on the walls, wanting to get to him, wanting to jab her fingers into his eyes and shut them forever.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit.” He started toward the door, hatchet raised.
Jerry cried harder, sending Hannah into a deeper rage. When the man opened the door, Hannah was there. She lunged at him, teeth bared. He opened his mouth to scream, but she latched onto his throat with one of her hands and squeezed. His mouth worked like a gasping fish, and he buried the hatchet into her clavicle.
Hannah hardly noticed.
She took him to the floor, crushing and twisting his windpipe. His eyes turned from those of a predator to frightened prey. With her dirt-encrusted nails, she tore out huge gobs of his flesh, leaving him to twitch and die on the dirty floor.
***
Jerry was still crying when she took him down from the chains. She cradled him in her cold arms and rocked him until he fell asleep.
Though she couldn’t feel it, she was sure the night was cold, even inside the shack. She couldn’t stay there any longer. The un-life that she’d been given – by either vengeful angels or laughing demons – was starting to fade.
She wrapped Jerry in his blanket, tucked him inside her torso to keep him from the wind and the cold, and headed down the dirt driveway from the shack to the road. A car would pass soon enough. She could rest and Jerry could go home.
—
©2009 Jason M. Tucker
Jason M. Tucker lives in San Diego, California and is the author of hundreds of published articles, short stories, poems, and other creative type stuff. Recent publications include a story in New Voices in Horror, as well as three short stories in Northern Haunts. Find out what Jason’s up to at www.jasonmtucker.com.
Tags: Jason M. Tucker
March 10th, 2009 at 1:22 am
Whew! Thoroughly creepy. Good story.
March 10th, 2009 at 8:37 am
WOW, this is great! Little gross, lots creepy, very visual. I loved it!
March 10th, 2009 at 9:43 am
The writing flows smoothly at the beginning, making the story easy to follow. The story seems to be heading in one direction and then the shack is introduced. The ending was definitely a surprise. Overall, an original and very good read.
March 10th, 2009 at 11:07 am
Great voice and flow. Very well done.
–dj
March 10th, 2009 at 12:53 pm
I love the imagery - mingled feelings of relief, sympathy and horror! Well done!
March 10th, 2009 at 1:46 pm
Very spooky and dark, Jason! The line “She wrapped Jerry in his blanket, tucked him inside her torso…” was wonderful, made me raise my eyebrows in twisted delight. Bravo!
March 10th, 2009 at 10:52 pm
Thanks for all the nice comments everyone. I really appreciate it!
March 11th, 2009 at 11:07 am
Wonderful story! Especially loved the line “With no lungs, she couldn’t even scream, so she let her mind do it for her.”