Clickers by Gonzalez J. F. & Mark Williams

Author:Gonzalez, J. F. & Mark Williams [Gonzalez, J. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deadite Press
Published: 2011-04-13T04:00:00+00:00

She stood in the center of the living room, trying hard not to cry. If she hadn’t been so goddamned afraid to face up to her problems, face up to what Kirk had been trying to tell her, this wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have thrown such a fit and tried to storm away the way mother had. She wouldn’t have fought with him, sent him reeling to the sand to be attacked by those things—

At the mere thought of the things that had come crawling out of the ocean her hands began shaking with fear. God, she needed a drink.

She spun back toward the kitchen and rummaged for the Jim Beam that she had partaken in last night. She found it in the liquor cabinet. Still a third left. Good.

The amber liquid cast a warm glow down her throat, warming her chest. Another shot brought the warmth further, settling in her bones in a nice, peaceful ambiance. The third shot calmed her nerves down to the point that she felt better. Back in tune.

She stood at the kitchen counter, the bottle of Jim Beam in front of her. The rain pelted the house, the drumming of it filling her eardrums. Far over the Atlantic Ocean, thunder boomed. The wind brushed the trees against the windows, creating a spooky atmosphere. This would be a great night to cuddle up with Kirk with a great horror flick in the VCR; Night of the Living Dead, Halloween, Psycho. He would be there to comfort her through the scary moments of the film, his arms draped around her shoulders, one hand in her lap, caressing her thigh. And after the film was over they would make-out, and then he would peel her clothes off and go down on her and she would open herself up to him, open herself to his manhood, open herself to—

But not anymore. Kirk was gone now. For good.

Instead of bursting into tears the way she thought she would have, she stalked back into the living room, her green eyes on fire.

It was her mother!

Mother did this to get even with her, for making her rush out of the house in anger and get in the car and drive off that cliff. Mother had followed Stacy to the beach, had witnessed the argument, had seen the monstrosities coming up the beach before she and Kirk even felt their presence. And she’d acted upon it accordingly. It had been Mother who possessed Stacy, made her fight with Kirk, made her struggle in his grasp, pushed him away from her, sent him falling to the sand, smack-dab into the clicking horror of the monsters that picked him apart and devoured him while she ran like a coward to her car.

Stacy stood in the living room, her senses tuned to everything around her: the creak of the house as it shifted on its foundation; the moan of the wind as it blew around the eaves; the patter of rain that drummed on

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