Earworm by Aaron Thomas Milstead & Blood Bound Books

Author:Aaron Thomas Milstead & Blood Bound Books [Milstead, Aaron Thomas & Books, Blood Bound]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blood Bound Books
Published: 2019-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Another head hangs lowly.

Child is slowly taken.

And the violence, caused such silence.

Who are we mistaken?

But you see, it’s not me.

It’s not my family.

In your head, in your head, they are fighting.

In your head, in your head they are crying.

In your head, in your head.

Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie.

What’s in your head, in your head?

Zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie, oh.

—The Cranberries

11.

Power Play

I’d like to offer a dramatic interlude so that you can process the emotion I must have been experiencing with the confirmed loss of my marriage and the realization that I was on the hit list of some sort of ancient evil deity. I realize my narrative has been fairly introspective so far, but your patience is about to be rewarded as all Hell breaks loose. Balls to the wall intense. Less Kramer vs. Kramer and more Point Break.

I was walking toward the pool house with Bogart alternately giving me affirmation that losing Dare wasn’t the end of my life and bemoaning that my life was going to be over anyway because Carrion-Six-Toes was going to come for me soon. I could hear his incessant ramblings like elevator muzak, but I wasn’t really listening to him. Instead, my inner voice was repeating a familiar mantra that presented itself during particularly stressful moments.

Drink. Drink. You worthless, no good motherfucker. Drink. Worthless. Drink. Unloved. Drink. Nobody loves you. Drink. Drink. Worthless. Nobody loves you. Drink.

There was a filthy bottle of Kentucky Hunter rotgut whiskey hidden deep in the cabinet behind several cans of lima beans, creamed corn, and sweet potatoes. I probably should have just thrown it away. By “it” I mean the whiskey, not the sweet potatoes, but I thought keeping it represented self-control.

I wanted to gulp down that bottle more than anything in the world. I needed to. Anything to quiet my inner pain body. When I realized I’d left the front door open it gave me just another reason to curse myself. I also realized that I couldn’t get the stench of my mother-in-law out of my nostrils.

I stepped into the living room.

A video was playing on my computer. The last thing I’d been watching was a live Twitch stream of competitive teams playing Overwatch, but what was playing then was a filthy porno featuring two overly endowed men assaulting a wide-eyed girl with mascara dripping from her eyes.

Get out of here, kid. Run.

The toilet flushed and a figure stepped out of the bathroom. It moved like a bad stop-motion figure made of clay. A slightly less coordinated zombie from Romero’s original Night of the Living Dead.

It was Chaz.

Clearly, he was still very, very dead, but somehow he’d had the decency to put on pants. I was disappointed as I realized that he was wearing my favorite pair of blue jeans. The rest of his body was fully exposed. He had been a revolting man in life, but that was nothing compared to the hideous mess he had become. His head was perpetually flopped back as if staring up at an unforgiving God.

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