A Feast of Flesh: Tales of Zombies, Monsters, and Demons by Aaron Polson

Author:Aaron Polson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781465883889
Publisher: Aaron Polson

Familiar Faces

A short, stout man in a wrinkled grey suit stood next to the window of his hotel room. He poked one thick finger through the Venetian blinds, prying them open slightly so he could peer into the darkness outside. A single light flickered high on a lamppost above a silver sedan—a long, luxury model that showed its age with a little rust around the wheel wells. The only other light came from a little cluster of orange fire blinking in the distance. Behind him, sitting on the edge of a double bed with a rust-colored comforter, a thin woman, mid-thirties, wearing garish, slightly smeared lip gloss poked her hair into an awkward pile on her head.

“Are they out there, Manny?” She asked, her voice hushed.

The man turned, showing her his square face smudged by a few days’ worth of beard. The blinds snapped shut as he pulled his finger out. “I can’t see anything.” He stroked the few greasy strands on top of his head. “Hell, I should move the car. Y’know, park it closer to the doors.” He waved the black pistol in his other hand, gesturing toward the blinds.

“What? Go out there now?” She stood up and wrapped herself in her own arms. “Not with them out there, Manny. We don’t know. They might be waiting for you.”

“Yeah. Alright. Sit down, will ya?” Manny shuffled to the nearest nightstand and laid the handgun on top. “You’re right.” He dropped onto the bed, and the old springs gave a weak whine under his weight. “So Liz, what now?”

“You need some sleep, Manny. Look at your eyes. We can’t keep this up.”

He glanced into the mirror on the opposite wall, noted the cheap knock-off abstract painting above the bed, and squinted to see the purple circles around his eyes. Liz paced in front of the mirror, slapping her pale upper arms. “It’s so cold in here,” she said.

“Furnace is probably out. Hell, we were lucky to be able to kick start the generator.” Manny flopped back on the pillow. “Turn the lights on, babe.”

“Manny, you got the light over there.” She waved one pale hand at the lamp next to his side of the bed.

“No, I want the big lights. All of them. I ain’t sleepin’ in the dark if I don’t have to.” His hands slipped behind his head, and he kicked off his worn leather loafers. “We’ll leave real early tomorrow. Try to stay ahead of them.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then sat up abruptly, like he was listening to something. “Do you hear that?”

“What, Manny? I don’t hear…”

His fat finger pressed against his lips. “Shhhh. Listen.” A small sound, somewhat like a woman brushing her hair, seemed to radiate from the walls. His hand slid over the gun, and his fingers tightened around the grip.

“Manny,” Liz said, “it’s just the fan. You know, the ducts.” She walked over to the wall and brushed a hand in front of the vent. “I tried to turn up the heat when we came in, but it’s only the fan blowing.

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