DON'T FEED THE DARK, BOOK FOUR:  PHANTOMS

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The mid-April sun dominated the early afternoon sky above the ranch. A foreboding structure stood at the center of several large, dead fields turned swamp due to the spring thaw. Like everything else in this new, harsh world, winter was finally dying after her long and brutal reign that had first been declared with the heavy snowfall, which began late last November. During the day, the mud and slush remains of winter were like another rotting corpse which refused to stay dead as frigid temperatures and killer winds continued to bite through the long unmerciful evenings.

The dark and boarded up house appeared long-neglected and void of life. The front door came open, creaking painfully on rusted hinges. A tall man wearing an old trench coat sluggishly stepped out on the front porch, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. He wore a dirty blue t-shirt around his head with a pink scarf wrapped around his face, holding the shirt in place. His gloves were thick brown socks with the toes cut out for use of his fingers. His white, stick legs shown through the bottom of the coat since all he wore beneath were an old pair of red and white stripped boxers. On his feet he wore one six-inch brown work boot on his left foot and an old blood-stained sneaker on his right foot, which made him appear to limp when he walked. Considering his limited options, the man was proud of the fact that both shoes were his size. He wore no socks (except for the ones on his hands).

Once his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, the man moved quickly to the far end of the porch to gather logs from the unkempt pile of firewood in the corner. He picked up five pieces and shivered from a sudden gust of cold air. He stared out into the field at the front of the house and saw movement a hundred yards out. He counted seven of them this time.

“Fuckin’ deaders!” he mumbled through the scarf, and then stomped back toward the front door. He placed the firewood down and then reached just inside the doorway for his spear.

“What is it, Marvin?” It was a female’s voice coming from the living room. “Is he back?”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Marvin yelled back. “You know the rules… no speaking unless spoken to. And… it’s not your day!”

“But it’s just us, Marvin. No one will tell. He will never-”

“I said it’s not your fuckin’ day, bitch! It’s my day. MY DAY!”

The woman did not speak again.

Marvin turned away from the door and slammed it shut behind him. “That’ll show her,” he said smugly. “Just ‘cause she’s got the ‘voice’ doesn’t mean shit. Only Marvin gets to speak today. Only Marvin gets a name today… It’s Marvin’s fucking day!” He almost forgot why he came outside until he saw the spear in his hand.

He sighed heavily and then looked at the muddy stagnant pools with wild grasses penetrating the surface. He tried to pick out a path through the field that wouldn’t get his feet soaked.

Marvin pulled down his scarf. “Damn deaders!” he shouted into the field. “Why do you keep comin’ back? Why can’t you all just stay fuckin’ dead?” Reluctantly, Marvin marched across the field. He kept his spear out front–its sharp point stained with black blood.

By the time he reached the first two, his feet were completely soaked. Marvin looked down in a large pool of water and saw what was left of a man and a woman. They were both stuck waist deep in the muck on their backs, reaching out with their tree-limb looking arms waving in the air. Their clothes and skin were so dark and deteriorated from being trapped beneath the snow all winter that it was hard to tell what was skin from a torn blouse on the woman and perhaps a dress shirt on the man. Both their faces were bloated, ripped, and almost unrecognizable as they saw Marvin and started snapping dead jaws toward him. Their eyes were black and pushed into their rotted skulls.

Marvin caught a whiff of the reanimated and immediately covered his mouth and nose with the scarf as he stepped back. “Damn deaders! Stinky, stinky deaders! Why won’t you die?” He raised his spear and jabbed it into the head of the man. Its head collapsed like mush and it stopped moving.

Marvin approached the woman who had managed to turn on her side. Her long wet hair fell over her face like seaweed. Her torn blouse fell down revealing what was left of one rotting breast. It tried to crawl toward Marvin’s feet, separating its torso from the rest of its body as the woman’s innards stretched across the pool.

“Disgusting!” Marvin hissed. He raised the spear and stabbed the woman through the eye. It fell back into the pool and sank.

Marvin examined the field and found the others. Their flailing arms gave away their location. “Two down, five to go,” he said. “Marvin’s good at killin’ deaders. He knows how to make them really dead.” He sloshed across the field and destroyed the remaining five.

When he was half way back to the house, Marvin stopped suddenly. It wasn’t what he heard, it was the silence that troubled him. He started scanning the woods, which bordered the large property. Marvin hated being outside. That was their world now. He just wanted to get back in the house and forget about all the scary monsters which hid in the forest and beyond.

“Marvin can’t see ‘em, but he knows they’re out there watchin’. Marvin knows they’re always watchin’.” He picked up his pace and finally reached the porch. He took one final look around the field for any more deaders and then stared up at the hellish sun. “Marvin don’t like you much either.” He made stabbing gestures toward the bright orb with his spear. “That’s what I thought. Marvin means business, Mr. Sun, so you better be gone!”

He turned and retreated inside. He closed the door, shutting out the bright light, being mindful to place the lock bar back across the door.

Marvin removed his outer garments until he was standing in only his boxers and a blood-stained, once white tank top that hung loosely over his bony shoulders and sunken chest. He ran a hand through his thin messy blond hair, most of which he’d already torn out at one time or another. Marvin scratched his unkempt, scraggly blond beard until the bugs repositioned. He skin was extremely pale and stretched over his bones from a winter’s worth of malnutrition. He had scars all over his thin frame. From a distance, anyone could have easily mistaken him for the dead… hell, even up close, with the lights low, there wasn’t much difference. His deep blue eyes, surrounded by patches of dark skin due to his insomnia, were the only features that clearly separated him from the monsters outside.

Marvin stepped into the small dining room and smiled, revealing several rotted teeth. “Home sweet home!” he called. “It’s Marvin’s day!”

He’d already cleared the dining room table by pushing rotted, fly-infested remains to the floor in order to set himself a place. In the low-lit room provided by a single dull bulb hanging down from the ceiling fixture, Marvin could barely see the dried blood stains splattered across the table. The plate, fork, napkin, and empty wine glass were neatly set. “And that’s how we ‘civilized’ people eat,” Marvin said with a smile. “And Marvin’s gonna eat good tooooday!” He crossed the dining room to get to the kitchen, carefully stepping around and over the trash and remains that had accumulated over the last few months. He turned briefly to catch his reflection in a cracked hallway mirror. The double image of himself created by the distortion made him look like some two-headed monster. Marvin quickly looked away and stepped into the kitchen.

The kitchen was lit up by sunlight breaching the small window above the sink–the only window in the house that wasn’t boarded up. The overhead light worked but Marvin had to use power sparingly whenever possible. He could hear the low hum of the generator coming from outside. The small kitchen was neat and tidy. Everything in its place. Even the linoleum floor was clear, yet far from clean. This was the only room in the house that hadn’t suffered months of neglect. Marvin hesitated when he spotted the refrigerator and frowned. He shook his head. “No, no, no. Marvin’s not even gonna let them ruin his special day. No-sir-re.” He gave the fridge a wide berth as he approached the stove. There was a large pot simmering. Next to the stove was a dusty bottle of cooking sherry. Marvin reached into a utensil drawer and pulled out a ladle. He took the lid off the pan and stirred the contents within until satisfied. He clapped his hands together excitedly and then rushed back into the dining room to fetch his plate. He was proud of his cooking abilities. The vegetables and spices gave the stew a savory aroma that made his mouth water. “Marvin, you out-did yourself this time… yes you did!”

He returned to the pan, turned off the burner, and then reached into the pot with the ladle and placed a healthy portion on his plate. Marvin grabbed the sherry, the steaming plate, and then returned to his seat. He sat down and poured cooking sherry into his wine glass. He reached for his fork and began stabbing at his food before realizing what he was doing wrong. Marvin shook his head and sat back. “No, Marvin, don’t act like a filthy animal. Slow down. Savor every bite… every damn bite, ‘cause it’s Marvin’s day.” He stopped himself from devouring the meal and started taking smaller bites. “Man, that’s fuckin’ good, Marvin!” he told himself with his mouth full. “Can I cook or can’t I?”

From the next room he heard something fall to the floor.

Marvin sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, placing his fork back down. He looked back toward the living room. “What? What?!” he called out. “Can’t you wait five damn minutes?”

There was no answer.

He knew he should go, especially since the generator was still running.

Marvin stood up like a sulking child and exited the dining room. He headed down the hallway to his left, which emptied into the large dark living room. There were blood smears all along the walls, floor and even old crimson patches on the furniture. Trash scattered beneath his feet as he approached the hooded woman who sat patiently in the filthy love seat near the fireplace. He ignored her and went directly to the hearth to warm his hands over the low flames. It needed another log or two before it went out. “Damn… damn… damn! Can’t a man just eat in peace?” he said to no one. “Can’t Marvin just eat one home-cooked meal? Why does Marvin have to do so much? Why today?” He turned to the woman in the chair.

The woman sat up in her dirty blood-stained sundress with her hands folded patiently over her lap.

Marvin thought she looked ridiculous acting all prim and proper with that silly sack still on her head. “And you!” he accused. “I know what you’re doing. I know you’ve been in here throwing things around. You best stop it right fuckin’ now because you know it’s-”

“Because it’s Marvin’s day! Yippee!” the woman interrupted, throwing her hands in the air to mock him.

He wanted to grab the fire poker and stab her in the face… repeatedly. But he knew that she knew that he couldn’t. She was the ‘voice’. Unfortunately, that made her valuable.

“Don’t think I won’t beat you, woman! You’re not that special.” He reached for the dirty sack and pulled it violently off her head.

Beneath the hood was a dirty-faced woman, with short-cropped messy brown hair. Her skin was pale and sickly. She had one sharp green eye. The woman was smiling fiercely, staring at Marvin as if to say, Go ahead, hit me. I dare you. It was an irregular smile since half the woman’s upper lip had been cut off. Along with her left eye, the woman was also missing her right ear. In the beginning, she had paid severely for her spirited behavior. The bad man hated the way she had smirked at him, hated her face. So he’d altered it each time she misbehaved.

Marvin turned away from the hideous woman. “I should put the bag back on. You’re one ugly mother-fucker.”

The woman stared down into her hands, suddenly conscious of her appearance.

Marvin felt bad. “Sorry,” he said in a softer tone. “Marvin didn’t mean that. You know Marvin didn’t, right?”

The woman looked up and nodded.

“Just don’t interrupt Marvin again and he won’t say mean things. You bring it on yourself, you know. That’s why he was so hard on you… before.”

The woman shook at the mentioning of the bad man. She quickly regained herself, took a deep breath and said, “Please don’t tell. I’ll behave. Should… should we get started?”

“Yeah… yeah… yeah…” Marvin moved toward the CB radio equipment placed on the other side of the fireplace. “The sooner Marvin gets this done, the sooner Marvin can get back to eating. It’s Marvin’s day, after all.”

“Yes,” the woman said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but failing. “It’s Marvin’s day… after all. It’s always… Marvin’s day.”

He knelt down by the patched up CB equipment and began turning on switches and adjusting dials until various lights came on and channels began to squelch. He removed the receiver from the cradle, tested it once for reception, and then nodded. He looked to the woman. “You ready? If you do this right the first time, Marvin might let you eat with him at the table. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded eagerly. “Ye…yes… very much.” She tried to smile again.

Marvin squinted his eyes and handed her the receiver. “Please… just stop smiling like that. I mean… you’re beautiful and all… when you don’t smile.”

The woman did not respond. She grabbed the receiver in one grimy hand and hit the transmit button:

“Hello. Hello. Hello. My name is Sonja Williams, calling in behalf of the Ashtabula County group of survivors, just off Route 11, ten miles north of I-90. We are held up in a small medical building. We are forty strong with a full medical staff and militia to keep the building secure. We’re able to accommodate survivors at this time. We can provide food, water, medical care, and warm beds to sleep in. We will send someone each day, at noon, to pick up survivors at the local Waffle House located at 8177 Terrance Road, just east of Ashtabula, Ohio. Again that’s 8177 Terrance Road just east of Ashtabula, Ohio. Good luck. We hope to see you soon. God bless.”

After she finished, the woman handed the receiver back to Marvin.

Marvin smiled and said, “You know… even if you’re not so pretty anymore, you’ve still got one sexy radio voice. That’s gotta count for something.”

“I’m still prettier than you,” she teased, causing Marvin to lose control and keel over in a fit of laughter.

“That was damn funny, girl! Marvin hasn’t laughed like that in a good long while.” He handed her back the receiver for round two.

The woman took the microphone and sighed her disinterest before hitting the transmit button and repeating the message verbatim from memory.

“This is going well. Marvin’s very pleased, woman. You’re really good at this. Marvin can see why he puts up with you. You make the ‘voice’ thing look so easy.”

She had no response as she waited, staring at the floor. She would repeat the message one more time and then she could eat.

“Alright,” Marvin was jittery with impatience. “Let’s finish this. Marvin’s hungry.”

The woman absently returned the microphone to her mouth and hit the transmit button. She suddenly dropped the receiver when they both heard the loud knock on the front door.

Marvin cowered down and turned toward the sound. “What’s this? What… is… this?!” he whispered. He started biting his yellow nails as he turned toward the woman and then back toward the door. “That… that’s not supposed to happen. That never fuckin’ happens!”

The woman looked to Marvin nervously. “What do we do? Is it… him?”

“No… no way. He would never knock like that, no-sir-re. This is something else.”

They heard the knocking again. This time it was much louder.

Marvin moved toward the front window and tried to peer out through a crack in the large boards. He couldn’t see the porch. He started to panic as he paced around the room. “This is not cool… not cool! Marvin just wants to eat… just wants everything back the way it’s supposed to be. No one knocks. No one ever knocks!”

Again, the knocking. Louder. Longer this time.

Marvin put his hands over his ears. “Stop it! Stop it! Just fuckin’ STOP IT!!!” He looked toward the woman again. She appeared as terrified as he was. And then he knew what to do.

He walked over to the woman, grabbed her arms, and forced her to her feet. Once standing, the woman looked as thin and frail as Marvin. “You! You go find out who it is and then tell them to go away!”

“Why me?” The woman said. “I… I’m too scared to go out there! What if someone grabs me and takes me… into the light?”

Marvin started dragging her out of the living room and stopped. He could hear them… all of them… whispering… taunting him from the kitchen.

Who’s at the door, Marvin?

Answer the door, Marvin.

Don’t keep them waiting, Marvin.

They’ve come to set us all free, Marvin.

He let the woman go and placed his hands over his ears. “No… no… NO! Not again! Not ever again!”

The woman fell limp to the floor and simply stared up at the crazy man. “What… what is it?”

He looked down at her in disbelief. “Can’t you hear them?”

The woman said nothing.

“No, of course you don’t. They don’t talk to you. They don’t talk to the others. Only Marvin. Poor, poor Marvin.” He rushed into the dining room and crept toward the front door.

Silence.

He grabbed his spear and then peeked through a small gap in the dining room window. Someone was standing at the door. Just one. Just one somebody.

Marvin wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. “Okay. Okay. Marvin can handle this. Marvin knows what to do.” He started back toward the dining room.

From the kitchen, they spoke again.

Marvin stopped and stared in horror at the refrigerator door.

Help us, Marvin.

We’re dying in here, Marvin.

It’s so lonely in here, Marvin.

So… so… lonely, Marvin.

The whispering voices spoke over top of each other, threatening to break his fragile hold on sanity.

He shook his head and tried to ignore them. He found the woman trying to crawl her way back to the loveseat. “Come with me. There’s only one of them,” he said.

The woman reluctantly followed. “What do you want me to do?”

He stopped before the kitchen and pointed toward the utensil drawer. “You… you go in there and grab a big old knife from the drawer. Biggest knife in there. Then you yell through the door, ‘Go away or we’ll shoot you!’ Then the knocking will stop. The voices will stop. Then everything will be okay again… like before. Then, we eat. Okay?”

The woman reluctantly nodded. She was terrified but one look toward the steaming pot in the kitchen persuaded her to move. Hunger always trumped fear. “Okay,” she said. “What if they don’t leave?”

Marvin looked impatient. “Then you open the fuckin’ door and stab ‘em.” He started motioning up and down with his hand, an imaginary knife inches from her face. “You stab… stab… stab… STAB… until the knocking stops. That’s what you do.”

The woman nodded. She entered the kitchen, opened the utensil drawer, and grabbed a large kitchen knife. She stopped and stared at the pot. She was soooo hungry. The woman would do anything to just…. Feed.

“Let’s go!” Marvin said. “Scare them off… then we eat.”

He pushed her toward the front door. Then he backed away around the corner to watch with his spear raised.

They’ve come for us, Marvin.

They’ve come for the bad man, Marvin.

They’ve come to set us all free, Marvin.

They’ve come to punish you for what you’ve done, Marvin!

“Shut up!” Marvin hissed. “Just shut up!”

The woman looked back confused.

There was more knocking on the front door, which caused them both to jump.

He waved impatiently. “Do it! Just do it now!”

The woman leaned in near the front door, collected herself, and then yelled, “What do you want?”

There was a long pause followed by a muffled voice on the other side. “Hello? Is someone in there? Oh, thank God. Hey… I’m lost and alone. Please help me.”

It was a female’s voice.

“Go away! Go away now… or we’ll shoot you where you stand! You’ll get no help here,” the woman said. She looked back at Marvin.

“Good… good,” he whispered.

“Please… let me in,” the female on the other side said. “I’m all alone. I heard your radio broadcast. I went to the Waffle House… but I hid when you came. You see, I was afraid… but when you started to leave, I didn’t want to lose you… so I followed you here. Please let me in. All my people are gone now. I’ve got… I’ve got nowhere left to go.”

“She’s lying!” Marvin said. “He wouldn’t let anyone follow him here. He’s smarter than that!”

The woman looked puzzled. “Then how does she know? How does she know about this place?”

Marvin had no answer. “Just… just… take care of it,” he barked. “She can’t be here when he returns. He’ll be mad at us for not taking care of this.”

The woman nodded, not wanting to be on the receiving end of another ‘misunderstanding’. She yelled, “Last chance, bitch! Leave or we dig your grave!”

Silence.

“I think she’s gone,” the woman said, turning to Marvin for guidance.

Marvin was gone.

“Fuck.”

The woman spotted the plate of food on the table and felt herself go numb.

I’m going to kill this bitch!

She removed the lock bar from the door. It took more effort than her frail frame could muster but the hunger became her inspiration and empowered her. She placed the knife behind her back and yelled, “If you’re still there, you better be gone by the time I count to three.”

She reached for the door latch. “One!”

She grabbed the door knob. “Two!”

The woman quickly opened the door and raised the knife.

“Wait!” A female dressed in a dark gray parka with a back pack, raised her hands and backed up to the edge of the porch. “Please… don’t hurt me. I’m no threat to you.” She lowered her head submissively and waited.

The woman cautiously lowered her knife. “Are you fucking deaf? I told you to leave!”

The intruder with short red hair beneath a knit cap and a scar that ran down her right cheek, slowly raised her head, looked into the mangled face of the woman, and felt her blood boil. “My name’s Gina. I meant what I said. I’m no threat to you.”

The woman started to close the door.

Gina slowly moved closer, her arms still raised. “Wait! Did… did he do that to you?”

“No more talking!” The woman threatened. “You don’t belong here. This is my home!”

“Did he tell you to say that?” Gina pushed. “You can tell me. Is he forcing you to do this?”

The woman looked confused. “No one’s forcing me to do anything, bitch! Now back off!”

Gina stopped. “Okay. Just relax. Tell me where he is and you’ll never have to suffer again. I promise. Is he… standing right next to you?” She whispered the last part.

The woman saw something in the stranger’s vibrant green eyes that reminded her of the bad man. There was violence in her eyes. “You… you’re trying to kill him!”

Gina smiled maliciously. “There’s no ‘trying’. He’s going to die today. Now… just come out here toward me and I’ll take care of this. I’ll protect you and-”

The woman raised the knife and screamed as she charged the intruder.

Gina’s hands dropped quickly. She jumped back off the porch, reached behind her back, and drew her handgun with a silencer attached. She fired three shots, point-blank range, into the pitiful woman’s chest.

The skeletal woman in the sundress fell to the porch, landing on her side, and struggling for air. She turned toward the doorway where she could see past the dining room and into the kitchen. She spotted the pot on the stove.

Gina bent down beside the woman. “Why?” she whispered. “I was trying to help you.”

The woman turned on her back and looked into her killer’s eyes and… smiled. What was left of her mutilated face became still.

Gina looked up across the field as a chill seized her. She paused for a moment, wanting to understand what had just happened. She frowned and finally said, “Doesn’t matter.” She reached into her parka front pocket and removed the small hand-held radio.

From the front right corner of the ranch house, just out of sight, three more intruders dressed in dark winter gear were already approaching the porch. They closed in around Gina and squatted down beside her. They were all armed with silenced weapons. She gave them all a sober look and then pushed the transmit button on the radio. “Marcus?”

The radio squelched and then a response. “Yes. We’re in position near the stables. No one’s tried to exit out the back of the house.”

“Copy. Standby.” Gina transmitted. “Nine, are we still alone out here?”

After a pause, a male voice responded, “Fields are still clear… well… except for those frosty ones stuck in the muck. It’s spooky quiet out here. No sign of the creepy dude with the pink scarf. Must still be inside.”

“Copy,” Gina said. She turned to a big man on her right. “Is that him, Tony? The Bad Man?”

Tony looked grave as he stared at the mutilated woman. “Don’t know. He was too far away. It could be. But this woman is definitely not his wife.”

“The mad woman?” Gina said.

“Yes. I don’t know who this is… was.” He looked at her with deep sadness in his eyes.

She avoided his gaze and raised the radio. Doesn’t matter, she reminded herself again. “Going radio silent for the next few minutes. Only transmit if we have company.”

Without another word, Gina motioned to the others with a twirling finger and they lined up behind her. As one, they entered the house. Gina came in low, gun drawn, headed toward the kitchen. Tony entered high and followed behind her. The last two members of Gina’s hit squad hooked to the left and the right to cover all fields of fire from the dull-lit dining room.

Gina quickly assessed that the kitchen was empty.

“Dining room’s clear right,” a bald man with a well-trimmed short red beard said.

“Dining room’s clear left,” a woman on the opposite side added. She noticed the plate and wine glass on the table and suddenly wanted to crawl out of her skin. The stew appeared to be a mixture of carrots, potatoes and human fingers. “We should move… now,” she suggested.

The hairs on Gina’s arms were standing. She couldn’t agree more. “Take a breath, Diane,” she said. To the other, “Dwight? You good?”

“Yep,” the red-bearded man said.

“Basement’s down the hall to the left. Stairs are to the right,” Tony whispered from directly behind Gina.

She nodded.

“What happened to the woman?”

“Later,” she said with annoyance. “We need to find your maniac and his yellow-eyed wife. Apparently, they’re not alone anymore.”

Tony sighed. “We should take the stairs. That’s where he kept her chained up.”

“Agreed,” Gina said. She quickly looked into his face. Tony was clearly reliving the nightmare of once being a prisoner in this very house. “You don’t have to do this.”

Tony’s face became stone. “Yes… I absolutely have to do this. I’ve been waiting all winter to get back here, ever since we first picked up that fucker’s transmission in the compound. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that there might be… others… and not do something about it. I’ve already lost enough sleep over this. Let’s just get this done.”

She nodded and addressed the rest. “Diane, Dwight, go left and take the basement. That’s where the prisoners will be. Tony and I will head up. Keep cool, keep silent, and stay together. Watch the corners.”

“Just do it the way we drilled,” Tony added. “Then everyone goes home today.”

Just then, the generator kicked off. The house became a whole lot darker. Fortunately there was still some light pouring in through the small kitchen window and the open front door.

They all started nervously swinging their handguns about.

“Shit! It’s a fucking trap!” Dwight said

“Easy,” Tony reminded them. “Get your flashlights out.”

After retrieving their flashlights, they gave each other one last reassuring look, and then focused on Gina.

“We can still do this,” she said. “Just keep your shit together. Let’s go.”

They split up at the hallway, guns raised, as they crept farther into the horror house.

~~~

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