Dark Vanishings: Post-Apocalyptic Horror Book 1 by Dan Padavona

Author:Dan Padavona [Padavona, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2015-05-18T19:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Burn It Down

Ricky had slept through the previous night, slumped over in a booth inside of Peter Pig’s barbecue pit, listening to flies buzz in and out of his ears. They crawled across his skin, and in the gray of semi-sleep, he felt revulsion as the flies burrowed in and out of his nostrils and open mouth. When he came awake for good during mid-morning, there were so many flies on his arm that his skin appeared to be caked with flecks of mud. He jerked his arms off the table, and the flies buzzed away like a black cloud, settling on the decayed food remains inside the open garbage container.

He no longer smelled the familiar barbecue scents. It was as though the fragrance had melted back into the walls, replaced by something redolent of carrion. Disgusted, he crawled out of the booth. Head drowning in a river of agony, Ricky was struck by a wave of dizziness. The floor rotated up past his eyes, and then he saw the booths and the kitchen counter whip by as though seen from a tilt-a-whirl. He vomited, smelling the digested remnants of yesterday’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He stood hunched over, hands on knees, until the nausea passed. Slinging rancid fluid off his lips, he leaped over the mess and ran for the exit.

The sun over Chardray was an angry furnace. Shielding his eyes, he felt along his face. He didn’t need to see his reflection in the window to know his face swelled with purple bruises. Someday, sooner or later, he’d cross paths with Viper again. Next time would be different. Oh, yes. Next time, he would hurt Viper badly. A fire burned through Ricky.

The town, what little there was of it, lay baking in the morning heat. Searching the vacant windows for signs of life, his eyes stopped on Hank Jenner’s house. Are you still in there, Mr. Jenner? Giggling to himself, Ricky cut across the fissured pavement, angling across overgrown lawns where the grass extended halfway to his knees. At Hank’s house, he ran to the front door.

When he placed his hand on the screen door handle, he stopped. What if Hank has a gun? Thinking that maybe busting into the house without checking things out wasn’t so smart, Ricky banged on the screen door.

“Hank. You in there?”

He banged again, and the screen door made a sound like a snare drum.

“Hank. It’s Ricky. Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry about yesterday.”

Ricky pulled the screen door open. Pressing his ear to the wooden door, he listened for approaching footsteps. Nothing. He jiggled the door handle and found it locked.

Not a problem.

He walked around the left side of the house and up the driveway. He found an empty car port with its top encased by a vining plant, like a den of pythons. Scanning the ground, he bent down and picked up a brick. After circling back to the front yard, he hurled the brick against the plate glass window to Hank Jenner’s living room.

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