The Arm…Part 5

Dillon awoke with a jolt. Panic set in once again as the image of Mr. Miller being eaten alive flooded back into his head like a deadly, poisonous tidal wave of terror. Hopping up he ran to the window. The old woman was still there. She was just rambling around in the yard. She didn't seem to know where she was going. She was just walking aimlessly. And now she had a companion.

Dillon's eyes grew wide as he saw that Mr. Miller was up on his feet once again. He was just standing there though, his back turned toward Dillon so that Dillon couldn't get a good look at the bite on his neck. He wasn't trying to get away. For a second, Dillon thought about opening the door and yelling at him to get back inside. But something stopped him. Something wasn't right. Mr. Miller took a couple of steps. He was walking with the same shuffle that the old woman was walking with at the moment. And then he turned toward the house.

Dillon hissed in a breath of air and quickly ducked down so as not to be seen. Mr. Miller's body was in the yard. But it wasn't Mr. Miller. In that brief second, Dillon had seen that most of Mr. Miller's throat was gone. In the large hole that remained, Dillon had seen cords and tendons hanging, raw meat that had already begun to attract flies. Mr. Miller was dead. The problem was....he was still walking around.

"Oh my god!" Dillon whispered to himself, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!"

He kept as quiet as he could, hoping again hope that he hadn't been seen. What in the world was going on? Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Mr. Miller was just stunned. Dillon slowly slid his head back up to the window. Just one more peek wouldn't hurt. Maybe Mr. Miller was hurt really bad and was just in shock.

As he slid up, he suddenly found himself face to face with Mr. Miller who was staring at him with a blank look. Was he trying to say something? His mouth was working. A large blob of blood oozed out and fell to the ground. And then, he smashed one of his hands into the glass, shattering it.

"OH MY GOD!" Dillon cried out, pushing himself backwards, "Stay away from me!"

Mr. Miller showed no emotion. He only kept smashing away at the window. And then, he started reaching in through the window, reaching toward Dillon who was lying on the floor, staring in horror at the apparition before him. Behind him, he could see that the old woman had gained interest and was slowly making her way toward them. But the worst thing was....now Dillon could hear them.

Both of them were making low moaning sounds. The old woman let out a little cry like she was in pain when she caught sight of Dillon and started reaching in through the window as well. Mr. Miller was trying to make a moaning sound but his was garbled with the gurgling sound of blood.

Whipping up to his feet, Dillon ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. In here, there was no broken glass....no walking dead....and no horrible moaning sounds. It was almost like a normal day. Except that Dillon couldn't just imagine it away anymore. Something was going on and he was right in the middle of it.

He grabbed up the phone. But it was still dead. He couldn't call anyone for help. What was he going to do?

Just then, a loud crash came from the kitchen as the glass in the door exploded under the fists of the two zombies outside. Screeching with fright, Dillon raced upstairs and ran to his room. Locking the door, he ran into his closet and slammed the door shut. Hot tears of fear were streaming down his face and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.

Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself down. A few seconds later, he heard the remains of the kitchen door slam open downstairs. They were in the house.

"Oh dear god," he whispered, "Please don't let them come up here. Please just let them go away."

He kept hearing loud knocks and bangs downstairs. Once he heard something shatter onto the floor. Was it a dish? Was it one of his mom's cat figurines that she kept on her knick-knack shelf? He just kept as still as he could.

For about ten minutes, he couldn't hear anything. It seemed that the house was empty once again. Maybe they had left. Maybe they had gone on to find other prey.

And then he heard it....the footsteps on the stairs. There was no mistaking it. He could hear the squeak of the third step that always sounded out when someone was coming upstairs. Sure enough...the steps got louder and louder. Someone....something....was coming up.

"No...no...no...no," Dillon said, his mind racing around like a rat in a maze, "No...no...no...."

And then his breath caught in his throat. The knob on his bedroom door rattled.....turned....and then opened. The door creaked slowly open. Dillon could hear it. Trying to keep as quiet as possible, he pushed himself as far back into the corner of his closet as he could.

A low garbled moan came from outside his closet door. It sounded like it was thick and full of liquid.....Mr. Miller! And then, the knob on his closet door turned!

As the door slowly opened, Dillon knew that he had to act now or that he was going to die.

"NOOOOOOOO!" he shrieked, pushing the door open with as much force as he could. He ran out, almost tripping over the body of Mr. Miller which was now lying on the floor. As he ran over him, he felt cold, dead fingers brush against his ankle, trying to grab at his foot. Luckily, Dillon had enough adrenaline pumping through his system that he was able to break free. Not looking back, Dillon ran out of the room.....and came face to face with the old woman.

With a low moan, she reached out toward him.

Until next week....class dismissed!

The Arm–Part 4

Dillon held his breath. He was sure that he had heard something raking its way across his roof just a few minutes before. For a second, his mind had gone to the dark side....thinking that it was the dead arm that had followed him home. But that couldn’t be...could it? He had kicked that twitching madness back into the river. He couldn’t hear anything now. Maybe it had been a branch...or a bird....or....

“Please God,” he whispered, “Anything but that....anything but that....anything but that....”

Just then he jumped as a loud knocking sound came from the front door. His heart went into his mouth as he suddenly had a weird visual image of the arm propped up at his door, knocking and waiting for him to answer. But he knew that it just couldn’t be. Still, he slowly and carefully made his way into the living room and peeked out the side window.

With a sigh of relief, he saw that it was his neighbor, Tom Miller. Mr. Miller lived just down the road from them in an old farm house that he had once shared with his wife before she had run off with another man last year. Dillon had heard his mom and dad whispering about it when they thought he wasn’t listening. Apparently, it was the talk of the town. Dillon had felt bad for Mr. Miller. He was a pretty nice guy...for an adult. He often went fishing with Dillon and his dad.

Unlocking the door, Dillon opened it up.

“Hey there!” Mr. Miller said, stepping into the house, “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to open the door to just anyone.”

Dillon laughed, “Yeah, but I saw you through the window.”

Mr. Miller just chuckled and nodded his head. The truth was that Dillon was just so glad to have someone else around. He had been having such a weird day that it was nice to have an adult around. It made the world seem to make a little more sense....or at least not be as scary.

“Well, I just came over to check on you. Your mom called me. She and your dad are going to be a little bit later coming home from the hospital,” Tom said, “She wanted me to check on you and make sure that you are okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dillon lied, trying not to jump at every little sound that the house made, “Thanks for coming over.”

“Well, I’m not going to stay....” Mr. Miller began.

“Can you though?” Dillon said, “Just until Mom and Dad get back? Mom said that I can microwave something for dinner. Want some spaghetti?”

Dillon hoped that he wasn’t sounding too needy. He just didn’t want to be alone in the house. What if it got dark and his mom and dad hadn’t made it back from the hospital yet? He didn’t want to be in the house alone after dark.

“Hey buddy,” Mr. Miller said, “It’s okay. I’ll stay here until your mom and dad get home. In fact, I’ll just use your phone and let them know. I’m sure they will feel better too! And that spaghetti sounds great....Boyardee?”

Dillon nodded and felt his blood pressure drop. Suddenly things didn’t seem like they were going to be so bad. He would just try to put the days events out of his head. The dead arm....the dead cat.....those things seemed like a dream now. He just wanted to forget them.

But they were there, his mind insisted. Still....there was something to be said about being home...and being safe.

He quickly made his way into the kitchen and popped open two cans of spaghetti. His mom wouldn’t let him actually use the stove while she was gone. But she didn’t mind him using the microwave. He carefully placed a sheet of paper towel over each bowl and set one of them into the microwave. They would be eating in a few minutes! And hopefully his mom and dad would be home sooner than they thought. He could hear Mr. Miller dialing the phone in the living room.

A few seconds later, he heard Mr. Miller jiggling the phone buttons.

“That’s strange,” Mr. Miller called out, “Your phone is dead. You are on the same line as me and mine was working just about 45 minutes ago. It’s not storming or anything. But it is dead as a doornail.”

The mention of the word dead left Dillon feeling cold and clammy. He tried to calm himself down.....it was probably nothing. Or maybe a druggie after a few feet of copper line. It had been done before. Still....he didn’t like not having a phone.

The buzzer sounded on the microwave and so he took out the first bowl that was now steaming hot and full of bubbling spaghetti. Placing the second one inside, he set the timer for 3 minutes and pressed start. The whirring of the microwave was comforting. It spoke of comfort....good food....and being safe.

Mr. Miller came into the kitchen, “I’m sure that the phone company is working on it. I just don’t know why it is dead.”

Dillon just shrugged.

“You know,” Tom continued, “Your mom might try to call here and won’t be able to get through. How about after we eat that we go back to my place and I can try to call your parents there. Or I can go by myself if you don’t want to come with me.”

“No, no!” Dillon said, “I don’t mind. I’ll go.”

Again he noticed the little bit of panic in his voice. But he didn’t want to be alone.

Dillon was setting the two bowls of spaghetti on the table while Mr. Miller washed his hands at the sink.

“That’s strange,” Tom said, “There’s someone walking around in your back yard. It’s some old woman!”

Dillon ran over to the window and peeked out. There was indeed some old woman in their back yard. She was shuffling around in what looked like an old house coat. Dillon saw that she didn’t have shoes on her feet. She had her back turned to then so he couldn’t see her face....but he started to feel uneasy. Something just wasn’t right.

“Stay here,” Mr. Miller said, “I’m going out there to see if she’s okay.”

Before Dillon could stop him....could say anything....Mr. Miller was out the door. Dillon watched as he marched across the back yard. He could hear him talking to the woman...asking her who she was and what she was doing here. The old woman didn’t act like she heard him. Finally, Mr. Miller reached the old woman’s side. He touched her arm.

Dillon wanted to scream out...NO! But nothing would come out of his mouth. Slowly the woman turned to face Mr. Miller.

She just stood there, staring at him like he was some creature from outer space with two heads. She didn’t say a thing. She just swayed from side to side.

Mr. Miller said something else, but Dillon couldn’t make it out. Finally, he turned back to the window from which Dillon was watching.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she needs help,” Mr. Miller said, “Go and check the phones. See if they are working again. We need to call....”

But he never got another word out. Suddenly the old woman lunged at Mr. Miller and sank her teeth into his throat. He fell down on the grass as the weight of the woman knocked into him.

Dillon watched in horror as Mr. Miller tried to knock her off. But she must have been stronger than she looked because she grabbed his hands and held him down. Blood spurted up into the air as she bit a large chunk from his throat. Dillon could hear Mr. Miller’s gurgled screams. And then the old woman was on him again....biting and chewing. Dillon watched as one of Mr. Miller’s legs twitched. He heard a high pitched whine and then suddenly realized it was him.....he was trying to scream, but the sound wasn’t coming out.

Running on pure instinct, he made his way over to the door and locked it. Dark flowers began to bloom in front of his eyes. Just as his fingers turned the lock, the dark flowers spread across his vision....and then he knew nothing. The bliss of unconsciousness took him.

Until next week....class dismissed!