A Day in Town
I sat in my car this morning on Tenth Street and watched it happen. That is all I can say. I watched as our town’s war veteran, Harold, bought his ticket under the hot July sun.
As a kid I remember teasing the old guy because he always wore his shirt unbuttoned, showing his naked chest no matter what temperature it was outside: cold, warm, hot, freezing, etc. I’d always ask my mom why Harold never wore a coat. She’d tell me that he had an awful accident while he was in the military. She never really elaborated about it, though.
When I grew up, I found out that twenty-some-odd years ago he had been involved in some kind of chemical blast while he was in a war that wiped out most of his platoon. Only he and a few others survived.
Someone–I can’t remember who–told me that poor Harold was asleep when it hit, and it slaughtered many of the soldiers who were close by. Their flesh had fallen away from their bones like cooked chicken.
One of the soldiers had been a good friend of his. Poor Harold had worn his buddy’s blood and bits of his flesh and parts of his brain for over a day, until he found swamp water to wash it all off.
I really think that it messed him after that–in more ways than one. Because he would always walk around in a daze, not speaking to anyone. He’d sometimes walk onto the abandoned lot down on the corner of Frederick Street and stand there, staring at the sky for no reason, with a weird look painted across his face.
If I ever passed him on the sidewalk he’d look like a zombie, or even a ghost, as pale as he was.
See, I watched Harold buy his ticket right after the red and white crossbars came down. We all sat in our cars and heard the train coming and watched as Harold came out of nowhere and walked right out onto the tracks.
For the first time in my life, I saw him smile from ear to ear. He waved at us.
Then he turned, faced the oncoming train moving at a high speed, succumbed his body to temptation, and allowed it to embed his flesh and blood all over the tracks.
The train slammed on its brakes, sparks flew.
People in their vehicles screamed and got out. I did the same. Some were pointing, holding their hands over their mouths as the train shrieked to a stop.
And then things changed.
Suddenly, I heard a woman shouting something. I looked over at her as she pointed at something.
When I saw it, goose bumps infested the surface of my skin.
The bits and pieces that were left of Harold started forming together, becoming a black mass. Quickly it moved across the ground like the shadow of a dark cloud blocking out the sun. It moved fast, split apart, and formed into small spider-like creatures.
They swarmed the whole town, killing many, crawling down their throats, and eating them from the inside out.
I had never heard so much blood-curdling screams in all my life. And I do not want to ever hear that again.
Now, as I sit holed up in a walk-in freezer with the light on the wall still blazing, I can hear them scurrying around out there on the floor and on the door, pecking their little feet, wanting to be let in so they can finally eat the last person alive in town.
I should be okay, though, at least for a while, because there is food everywhere in here and the air isn’t cold anymore because I found a way to clog up the vent above my head.
I should be safe, now. I hope.
Jesus! The light just went off and I just heard something above my hea–
