The A.R. Morlan MEGAPACK ®: 23 Tales of the Fantastic by A.R. Morlan

Author:A.R. Morlan [Morlan, A.R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: science fiction, horror, suspense, short stories, fantasy
ISBN: 9781479404858
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2015-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

The one at Basha’s new “home” was out behind the chicken coop; there was little else around it save for a lot of trampled dirt on its edges and the charred remains of something someone had burned there who knew how long ago—whatever it was had mold on it, so it had to have been quite a while ago. I could also see the rusted remains of broken farm equipment, some pottery, other less easily identifiable stuff. No stakes, though. Not that I really needed them; I’d brought some things from the garage that would work just as well—better, even, considering how extreme Basha’s infestation had been.

I’d found out by accident (a freak fire had ignited some janitorial supplies in a slaughterhouse I’d worked in) how nicely bleach made a fire burn. Ever since then I’d kept a bottle out in my garage…Near the gas can…just in case. So I was able to saturate the old rags I’d brought to cover the body with bleach and gasoline before flinging them down on top of her. I added the parts of the chicken she’d killed, and since I couldn’t be sure what might happen to the live ones once I left, I dispatched them quickly and dispassionately and added them to the pile.

While I had matches, I’d forgotten a bottle for making the Molotov cocktail I planned to ignite the pit with; the back door of the farmhouse was open, and with only a quiver of trepidation I stepped inside. The place was as I imagined it: rain-runneled wallpaper peeling away from the grayish plaster beneath, window sills flaking, mold and dirt encrusting the linoleum flooring, and no real food anywhere. Just an open, lightless refrigerator, a grease-spattered stove, and a five-legged, old-fashioned wood table. The cupboards under the antiquated ceramic sink were askew. And one held an empty soft drink bottle (for a soda currently advertised by punks on skateboards and snowboards) embellished with hillbillies and comically askew country-style lettering. I knew it had to be a collector’s item, but it was the only bottle in the kitchen. And I had no intention of looking through the rest of Basha’s place.

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