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Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
The bright sun continued on its westward course over the Sierra basin warming away the early morning mist. A short distance from the main body of the campground, away from the reveling and often loud local campers, stood a lone tent next to an old country squire station wagon. Marcia Dahlgren’s mind danced in that small space between consciousness and slumber.
Since becoming a mother she had discovered an ability to multitask in her sleep. Her first acquaintance with this ability was when she had fallen asleep while her husband David had been watching football. Her dream had incorporated the sounds of the game coming from the television. That evening, during her nap, she had led the Steelers to victory over the Eagles twenty one to seven. Marcia found the experience quite pleasing. It was an exciting diversion from which she awoke rested. This strange skill had assisted her while her son grew up. She was able to nap while still keeping an ear on her child’s activities. She could sing with purple dinosaurs or adventure with Hobbits while her mother’s mind would let her know if her son was getting into trouble. As a mother, Marcia had learned to tell the difference between the sound of her son getting a cup of water and the sound of the top cabinet in the kitchen being carefully opened while sleeping. The top cabinet that held the chocolate chips she used in baking cookies. Her boy was clever and tried a number of times to gain access to the chocolaty treasure when he thought she was asleep. While taking a restful nap she could sleep through unimportant phone calls on the answering machine but bolt up with full awareness if the voice on the machine was family. Marcia was a mother and mothers could do that sort of thing.
She lay peaceful with her back to her husband in the warm tent. The familiar reassurance of her home brought pillow cuddled below her cheek. Her mind transitioned into the waking world ever so slowly, to the sounds of birds and a gentle lake shore. Her bladder was full. She tried to ignore her need to relieve herself yet the sound of the lake with its soft waves would not let her. She had remembered that David had been up and down during the night, clumsily exiting the tent in the dark to pee. That will teach him to drink so much beer, she thought smiling. This morning Marcia found herself a little envious that men could just pee wherever they wished. She would have to walk over to the main office to find a suitable restroom, David and her son could just use a tree. It just isn’t fair.
Her husband was restless. She became aware that he was rocking back and forth. His body leaning towards hers, touching her back with a broken rhythm. Still half asleep, she opened her drowsy eyes and tried to discover through her senses what David was doing. She heard a wet sound followed by a slight groan. Her eyes widened at the thought; is he masturbating? She suppressed a slight giggle while her expression scrunched up as if she had just bitten into a lemon. Oh that is funny, she thought. He was feeling frisky last night but Marcia did not want to make love with her young son sleeping in the car so close by. She had agreed to let the boy sleep on his own but was sure he would get scared and return to their tent. Marcia did not want to be caught in the throws of passion. She had pretended to be too tired for her husband. I guess I could join in, she thought. Her mother’s ear would warn her if her son got out of the car. She loved her husband and in the soft warm confines of their tent she would be happy to lend the old pervert a hand, as it were.
Marcia rose up silently, intent on surprising her husband by saying something romantically clever. As she turned she was startled by the form of a young man sitting halfway in their tent through the open flap. She became frozen with an otherworldly fear. Her heart began to race. The young man appeared to be covered with dried mud. He was holding a pear sized peace of torn red meat. Greenish black drool fell in ropy strands from his bottom lip. His features were distorted and slack. The thing took no notice of Marcia who had become as stiff as a wax figure. Her expression was one most appropriate for a house of horrors. Her breathing quickened, filling her lungs with the foul fetid smell of decay. The young man-thing took a large bite from its handful of gore. Teeth gnashed against the meat while bloody hands tore the remains from his lips. It looked at the ground outside of the tent and appeared disappointed. A disgusting belch escaped the thing’s mouth. It sniffed at the meat it was holding and casually tossed aside the slimy mass of tissue.
To Marcia’s unbelievable horror, the creature turned its glassy eyes back in the tent. Its gaze passed her frozen form without recognition and fell to David’s leg. A split second passed and she wondered with the speed of thought why David had not waked to deal with this filthy stranger. Her fearful eyes welling with tears, hesitated to move. The thing at the foot of her tent picked up her husband’s leg. It lifted limply into her view. The leg was missing a generous portion of the calf muscle.
This isn’t happening. She was having a most vivid and horrible nightmare. For once her lucid dreaming had turned against her. Instead of adventuring through a fantasy dreamscape her subconscious had delivered her a vision of hell. The man she loved devoured by a mud encrusted demon dressed as a college student. No, this can’t be real. She must have had a bad meal last night. Something she ate was spoiled in the icebox and now it was giving her a nightmare. It would soon be over and she would awake to make breakfast with her son like she had promised. Breakfast, with freshly bought ingredients to be sure.
The ugly devil wore a torn expression of exasperation as it dropped the tattered leg. Disinterested, it turned slowly towards the outside and sniffed at the air. The living dead creature that was once Gary Jones stood with some effort, its body wracked by rigor mortis. Marcia shuttered as the creature exhaled a loud dry sounding gasp. It shuffled with stiff legs, towards the campground; foot steps diminishing with the growing distance.
She trembled. Her forehead beaded with ice cold sweat. Shivering she lay propped up on one arm looking at the open flap of tent where the creature had been. Silently her mind screamed; this must be a nightmare. She had witnessed the absolute impossible and it simply could not be real. The stillness of her terror was shattered by a sudden inhalation of air from her husband. The sickening sound of gas being drawn in by phlegm choked tubes echoed in the tent. She craned her neck to see David’s face. His normally tanned skin had lost its color. His features that she had loved so well for over a decade were drawn and sunken. She moved closer, putting her arm on his chest, her sleeping bag falling open with her movement. Her husband’s eyes opened. They were dry and empty of emotion. He blinked apparently without focus. He exhaled a stinking vapor that made her retch but she did not withdraw. This was her husband; this was a dream. She could make him all better as soon as she got hold of her food poisoned imagination. His eyes moved. Some sort of dark awareness flooded his features like a monster suddenly realizing that it had been born; born again, to a living dead existence with only the most primitive of needs. He looked at Marcia with eyes devoid of pity. Her smell was fresh, somehow appealing. Without verbalization or cognitive thought, the creature that was once David Dahlgren wanted to consume the living thing before him. No longer recognized as his wife or a human being, she was food. That is all.
Mind numbing fear prevented Marcia from understanding what happened next. Her mind simply turned off. Her mind that was able to entertain her through naps and keep an eye on her child did her one last great favor. It robbed her of her consciousness to protect her from the horror of her husband’s attack. Doctors would call her condition disassociative shock. She would feel nothing. She would have no idea that her husband of ten years had just bitten into her face, tearing the flesh from her cheek. She would not feel the slightest pressure of his teeth grinding with primitive aggression into her jawbone, removing the soft membrane of her skin. Her body silently submitted to the thrashings while her mind transported her back to the memory of her soft pillow, nestled beneath her cheek.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9
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