Jeremy Smithson woke to the sound of his alarm and shut it off. Reluctant to rise, he pulled his sheets over his eyes to block the persistent sunlight, the sun magnifying through his window abating his will. His mom busted through the door, her smile as warm as the ball of energy abetting global warming.
“Wake up Jeremy, or you'll miss your classes,” she said. He reached a hand from his sheets to wave her away.
“I'm already up. I'll be there in a second.”
“All right.” She shut the door as someone setting a priceless vase. Thirty minutes later, he forced himself from bed and performed the necessary tasks to prepare himself for the day: he took a shower, brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and rushed himself through breakfast. He said, “Good morning,” to his mom and younger sister by two years, a senior in high school. They chatted about the latest movies and his sister's newest boyfriend. He had nothing exciting to report.
Outside he felt relieved. Jeremy lived in a duplex by Section Eight housing, close enough to fear the gunshots yet not close enough to get touched by them. At the bus stop he met Carlos and Alice like he did every morning, and like every morning, Carlos waited for him with anxious eyes while Alice whispered in her cell.
“Hey Jeremy,” shouted Carlos. “What up?” He wanted to avert his eyes and deny Carlos's existence, but the other option was to look at Alice, who dressed like a slut yet gave him nasty looks when his eyes were driven to her large cleavage or the short skirts she wore even in the winter. So Jeremy, as always, looked at Carlos, and there was no escape until the bus came. “Did you hear about the new event where they're releasing Pokemon number 4,061, Thunderchu?” said Carlos, his eyes as wide as a religious fanatic's.
“No, I didn't,” said Jeremy. “I stopped playing at 250.”
“Oh, man! You should pick back up so we can trade, battle or something. Thunderchu is just awesome, man. It's got a new ability called sure-charge that makes it...” Carlos's words faded into background noise as Jeremy's thoughts and eyes shifted to Alice, who caught his gaze.
“Hold on, T.T.,” she whispered to her phone. “What?” The quick glare accompanying her question forced his eyes back to Carlos and her attention back to her cell.
“Hey man, you feeling all right?” said Carlos, posing the same question every time his audience ignored him. “Why do you always look like you're in mourning?” Jeremy wanted to answer with, “because you're a dork and I can't bend over Alice,” but the usual distraction came.
“Good morning,” said a black, middle-aged mailman, a heavy bag of mail by his side as he headed along his route. No one answered; they all looked around as if they heard nothing. “I said, good morning young people.” They all mumbled a hello. “Did any of you hear about the mauling of the Page family on 20th Street or the little girl born with a seventh toe by Birch Lane?”
“No,” said Jeremy, “but...”
“Well you would of if you had purchased my newsletter: The 20/20 Inquiry. It's only ten cents a day, and I collect at the end of the month.”
“Hold on T.T. We've already told you that nobody got the money for a newspaper when we can watch the news our phones.”
“If anybody got some money, it's you Miss Express,” said the mailman. “Get one of your boyfriends to give you a loan.”
“Whatever,” said Alice, “I said I don't got no money for your Charmin.”
“If it doesn't have the latest game reviews in it,” said Carlos, “I'll pass.”
“And maybe if you read something that happened in the real world once in a while, you'd have better grades or a girl's number or both,” said the mailman. “Listen, this just isn't about the news, but about helping a brotha out. I care about this community and want to see it have a say in the media. The Post won't publish my articles, like the family mauling or the girl with the seventh toe because they don't think they're important, but I know they are.”
“I hate to tell you this,” said Jeremy, “but nobody cares about local news. It only affects a small group of people, while national news affects everybody.”
The mailman frowned as his eyes got soggy. “And you, son, don't even seem like the type to read national news. Look, this is the last time I'm going to approach you kids. You're hurting my cause, and there's no use preaching to a dead audience. Are you going to help out your community or not?”
“We'll help our community by getting good jobs and putting back into it,” said Alice, her left hand on her hips, “not by buying something useless to us to help you out.” The mailman tried to look the two young men in their eyes, but their gazes focused on the sky and the earth.
“Well, I tried. Have a good morning.” The mailman continued along his route, the bag of mail weighing down his back. His eyes on the clouds high, Jeremy heard the heavy roaring of the bus engine two blocks away.
The sun fell far below the horizon, beckoning a descent of darkness, and Jeremy arrived home from the bus. He stepped off the public transport and headed home with heavy steps, a small, single strap bookbag swung over his shoulder. Street lights illuminated his path, yet Jeremy saw no one. It was a Friday afternoon, so everyone was probably out partying or seeing movies with their friends. If it meant the absence of the occasional neighborhood bully, he could live with walking home on an empty street; however, an uneasiness came from the absence of noise. No loud radios, giggling, arguments, or banter coming from the duplexes or houses around his own. Not even gun shots or shifting cars from the projects several blocks down. Why was it so damn quiet? Jeremy's stroll turned into a panicked stride, the cool wind whistling through the empty streets. A block from his house, the street lamp above him died, and his heart died with it. He froze and his eyes searched the light outside his dark circle. His ears heard a rustling in some hedges behind him and his eyes followed. Jeremy saw a three foot, hairless tail dragging into the bushes. A mountain lion in the city? He had to run, so he ran to his house, stepping backwards at first, then twisting his body around and sprinting. He snatched a shaking key from his pocket, held his hand steady, and shoved the key in the hole. He opened the door and locked it. “Mom? Sis?” He flicked on a light in the black house then marched forward to inform his family of the situation. “Mom, there's a mountain lion outside, call animal control! Mom!” He rushed through his home. No one in the kitchen, no one in his sister's room, no one in his mom's room, no one in the living room, no one in his room. Exhausting everywhere else, he opened the bathroom door. Light already illuminated the space. He saw his mom and younger sister laying across the bathroom floor, both of them face down in a pool of blood. He stood thoughtless, speechless. How did it get in? All the windows were closed and the doors were locked. He didn't know what to do. He fell to the floor and cried. A thought flickered through the ritualistic sadness, and it told him his life would never be the same again.
Considering the dramatic experience the young man undertook, the officers waited until the next day to question Jeremy about the death of his family. Too scared to spend the night in his house, alone, he decided to stay with his neighbors, a lesbian couple who were friends of his mom. They stayed present during his interrogation at noon the following day. Their names were Julia and Yasmine. The Officers were Ricardo and Archer. The two officers sat across from Jeremy at the kitchen table.
“So, Jeremy,” said Officer Ricardo, “tell me your side of the story. Everything that happened from the moment you arrived in your neighborhood.” Archer turned on a pocket-sized digital recorder. “Do you remember what time you got home?”
Jeremy resembled a bombing survivor, his eyes an empty daze, his mouth ajar. “I...I departed from the bus between five and six o'clock, like I always do.”
“And then what happened,” said Officer Ricardo.
“I was on my way home, as usual, but there was no one on the street. I didn't even hear anyone in the houses. I became scared and quickened my pace. Then, when I was under a street lamp, the power in it suddenly died, and behind it I heard a ruffling in the bushes and in that a long tail slid into the bushes.”
“Do you remember what animal it belonged to?” asked Officer Ricardo. “A dog, a cat, raccoon maybe?”
“It was long and hairless. I thought it might have been a mountain lion. You know, since there's been reports of them killing people on biking trails.”
“Don't screw with us, kid,” said Officer Archer. “You know cougars don't have hairless tails, only rats do. Tell me another one!”
“Officer Archer,” said Julia, leaning against the the refrigerator, “he saw his mom and sister murdered last night. You can't yell at him for getting a cougar's tail mixed-up for a rat's. Who in the hell sees a cougar's tail every day anyway?” Archer opened his mouth, but a raised hand from his fellow policeman made his shoulders loosen. Jeremy looked neither shocked or agitated; he displayed the same dead expression.
“What happened after that, Jeremy?” said Officer Ricardo.
“I was terrified and ran to my house. I unlocked the door and turned on the lights. I yelled for my mom and sister, I yelled for them to call animal control. I searched every room until I arrived at the bathroom. I opened the door and...”
“That's okay, we know the rest of the story after that,” said Officer Ricardo. “Are you sure there's nothing else you noticed about the thing in the bushes? Did it make any noises?”
“No, I didn't notice anything else. The hairless tail just slid quietly into the bushes.” Officer Archer shut off the recorder and headed for the door.
“I've heard enough,” he said. “He's the only survivor, and you mean to tell me this punk doesn't know any more than that?”
“Get out of our house, now!” said Yasmine, approaching the policemen from the living room doorway.
“Then again,” said Officer Archer, looking over his shoulder at the zombie. “If I opened the door to let some monster I trained murder my mom and sister, I guess I wouldn't have much to say either.”
“I said get out! What types of cops haggle the victims? Trained a monster to kill his mom? You should be arrested yourself and submitted to a madhouse.” Officer Archer slammed the door on his way out. As he stood from the table, the remaining officer put the digital recorder in his pocket.
“You'll have to excuse him, Jeremy, Julia, Yasmine,” said Officer Ricardo. “He was involved in two cases similar to this one already. He even knew the family on twentieth street.” A sparkle of light illuminated the abyss in Jeremy's eyes, then it faded. “They had a daughter about your age. She was Archer's son's girlfriend. It kills my soul to remember the scene. None of them were found in one piece like your mom and sister were.” Julia grimaced. “If you remember anything for the lost souls in this case, anything to help put them all to rest...” He placed his card on the table. “Give me a call. Thank you for your time Sir, Madams.” He walked out the door. Yasmine slammed it behind him.
Jeremy woke to the sound of his alarm clock the next morning and shut it off. A soft knock echoed from his door.
“Jeremy,” said Julia from behind it. “There's breakfast downstairs. Or do you want us to bring it to you?”
“I'll be down in a second,” said a muffled voice through the comforter.
“Okay. Just come down when you're ready.” Thirty minutes later he rose and did his necessary chores for the day: he took a shower, brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and rushed himself through breakfast. He said “good morning” to Julia and Yasmine. They said a low “good morning” back to him, watching him gulf down his eggs, waffles and breakfast sausages.
“You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?” said Yasmine. “You should stay home and rest for a few days.”
“I'm fine. Besides, midterms are coming up soon. I have to study.”
“If there's anything you have to do,” said Yasmine, “It's resting.”
Jeremy rose from the table, holding two sausages in his hand. He screamed, “It is the only thing I can do,” and stomped out the door. Yasmine and Julia sat speechless, staring at each other.
Outside he sighed. After walking a few blocks in empty contemplation, he met Carlos and Alice at the bus stop. Alice stayed stuck to her cell phone while Carlos approached.
“Hey, maaaan, you're not going to believe what new Pokemon event's happening in the next few months...” His eyes saw Carlos's lips move yet saw no words. How in the hell could he think about those damn pocket fucks when his mom and sis were dead? Did he not know? Was the incident neglected in the news? Was the entire neighborhood unaware of a monster that had butchered three families so far, including his own? His eyes wondered to Alice; he had to force them from her inviting cleavage to her face.
“Alice,” Jeremy found himself saying.
“Hold on T.T.,” she whispered to her phone. “What?!”
“Did you see anything on the news about the Page family, anything?”
“Naw I haven't heard nothing on them Pages,” she said, bobbing her head in small circles. “That older brother of theirs still owes me twenty bucks.”
“But they're... dead.”
Carlos put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. “Don't tell me you believe what that old mailman was selling yesterday? I saw a segment MSNBC yesterday and saw nothing about a monster mauling the Pages or a girl with a seventh toe.” Jeremy stood dumbfounded. How did they not know? Alice turned her back to them and continued whispering in her cell. “Now, as I was saying about the newest Pokemon event where they're releasing...” Jeremy pretended to listen and his eyes kept creeping to Alice's ass until the bus came. He didn't know what to think, so he didn't.
Soon after the morning star fell, Jeremy stepped off the bus and into his neighborhood. On his way home, he bought a small dagger from an antique store, in case something with a rat's tail the size of a cougar showed itself outside of some bushes. Similar to the night before, he heard no one outside. Not even children complaining, arguments or gunshots in the distance. He strolled with his hands in his pockets, gripping the dagger in his left tighter as a steady breeze ruffled the vegetation. He passed under the same streetlamp which blacked-out yesterday, and forced himself from under the shining light that abandoned him before. Something fluttered high above his head behind him, prompting Jeremy to stop breathing. He turned around and drew his dagger. A brown pigeon stood on the streetlamp and cooed. This comforted Jeremy, if only a little. At least the pigeons weren't dead on the street. No long, hairless tails sighted, Jeremy arrived at his new home. He knew he was home alone from the absence of Julia and Yasmine's car. Jeremy secured the door behind himself and headed for his new room. As he lay on his bed, he wondered how his life would change now that he was alone. He wondered if it would change. Something, some giant rat or cougar killed the two people closest to his heart. He would no longer hear about his sister's latest boyfriends, stories delivered with her shining smile and enthusiastic countenance, regardless of whether she was the dumper or the dumpee. His mom would never worry about him again or kiss him goodnight. Her loving smile and wishes of him were gone as well. He looked towards the ceiling with the same zombie-like expression he gave the police officers, then his eyes began to water.
He heard the front door open and knew Yasmine and Julia had arrived. He turned his silent tears away from the door frame. Five minutes of sitting in silence, his tears stopped and his heart knocked his chest. If they were home, wouldn't he hear some sort of conversation, or at least the car park in the driveway? He grabbed his dagger and crept to the doorway. He heard a low dragging across the floor. Upon reaching the boundary between the bedrooms and the kitchen area, he heard noises where the refrigerator must have been. He heard glass jars crashing against the floor, rummaging through plastic and styrofoam, loud smacking, and a bear's growl. Jeremy used his empty hand to shield his panicked breaths from escaping his mouth. He dared not see the creature. He had no desire to see what it was, just to get the hell away from it. He moved for the door while it ravaged the kitchen. Jeremy bypassed the kitchen and could see the front door wide open past twin recliner sofas and two foot rests. He quickened his pace. In his empty-minded state, his foot stubbed the corner of one of the recliners. He withheld his cry of pain, but the sofa still moved, and an inquisitive growl followed.
By instinct, Jeremy sprinted back to his safe haven, his room. Heavy footsteps stumbled across the ceramic and probably wet kitchen tile and quickened pace behind Jeremy. He slammed the door and locked it, dry tears staining below his eyes as he gazed at the door with horror. Claws scarred the door, Rover's paws, only five times bigger. The creature scratched against the door until the wood began to give, and soon a single red paw with red scales and talons broke through, accompanied by thrashing for flesh and growls which crossed between a bear and a pissed-off bat. Jeremy took the dagger and stabbed the hand the moment it rested. It roared and tore a wider hole as it pulled back its paw. Red blood. His mouth and body shivering, the young man ran on his bed and leaned his body against the cold window, the dagger raised and ready, his eyes never leaving the hole in the door. A yellow, cat's eye peered through the hole and glared at Jeremy with predatory intent. The entire door shook on its hinges as Jeremy cried and begged for God. The door refused to give, and soon the shaking stopped. The young man sat petrified. His heart froze. His breathing froze. His blood chilled. He fell slack against his wall and window, a smile spreading over his face. He was happy to be alive, yet reason rose and said he needed to call the police. Jeremy then heard glass cracking. Two scaly paws and arms broke through the glass. The claws punctured his shoulders and dragged Jeremy through the window pane.
The following morning, Officer Ricardo woke beside his wife to the phone ringing. He answered to Officer Archer.
“Hey Ric, sleeping in late again, are you?”
“What the hell are you talking about,” said Officer Ricardo. “It's freaking 6:00am in the morning. I'm not due to come in for another hour. What's the deal?”
“That kid we interviewed two days ago...”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“A call came in a sec ago. They found him, dead. Five blocks away from his house.”
“Killed the same way?”
“The same way,” said Officer Archer, his voice solemn. A moment of silence followed.
“Listen Archer. Don't blame yourself for blaming the kid, or for him dying. We did the best we could, and he was our only suspect that lived.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“We'll catch this son-of-a-bitch. Don't worry, he'll slip-up. They always do.”
“I know.”
“I'll meet you there. See you in a few.” The phone hang up. Officer Ricardo skipped breakfast and put on his coat outside the door. On the way, he passed the mailman, a sack of mail slung across his shoulders making his back stoop, his right hand bandaged severely to conceal a seeping stain of blood. “Hey, Mortey. You still trying to sell that private newspaper of yours? You might get fired if the post office found out.”
“That's only if a certain officer opens his damn mouth,” said the mailman, growling.
“I have more important things to do than tattletale on a man trying to make an honest living. Have a good day, Mortey.” Ricardo got in his car, turned on his siren and drove away. The mailman smiled and stalked towards a group of six college bound students waiting for the bus.
“Hey man, you guys hear about the mauling of the Smithson family on 19th Street or the girl born with the seventh toe by Birch Lane? Well you would have if had bought my newsletter: The 20/20 Inquiry...”
“Wake up Jeremy, or you'll miss your classes,” she said. He reached a hand from his sheets to wave her away.
“I'm already up. I'll be there in a second.”
“All right.” She shut the door as someone setting a priceless vase. Thirty minutes later, he forced himself from bed and performed the necessary tasks to prepare himself for the day: he took a shower, brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and rushed himself through breakfast. He said, “Good morning,” to his mom and younger sister by two years, a senior in high school. They chatted about the latest movies and his sister's newest boyfriend. He had nothing exciting to report.
Outside he felt relieved. Jeremy lived in a duplex by Section Eight housing, close enough to fear the gunshots yet not close enough to get touched by them. At the bus stop he met Carlos and Alice like he did every morning, and like every morning, Carlos waited for him with anxious eyes while Alice whispered in her cell.
“Hey Jeremy,” shouted Carlos. “What up?” He wanted to avert his eyes and deny Carlos's existence, but the other option was to look at Alice, who dressed like a slut yet gave him nasty looks when his eyes were driven to her large cleavage or the short skirts she wore even in the winter. So Jeremy, as always, looked at Carlos, and there was no escape until the bus came. “Did you hear about the new event where they're releasing Pokemon number 4,061, Thunderchu?” said Carlos, his eyes as wide as a religious fanatic's.
“No, I didn't,” said Jeremy. “I stopped playing at 250.”
“Oh, man! You should pick back up so we can trade, battle or something. Thunderchu is just awesome, man. It's got a new ability called sure-charge that makes it...” Carlos's words faded into background noise as Jeremy's thoughts and eyes shifted to Alice, who caught his gaze.
“Hold on, T.T.,” she whispered to her phone. “What?” The quick glare accompanying her question forced his eyes back to Carlos and her attention back to her cell.
“Hey man, you feeling all right?” said Carlos, posing the same question every time his audience ignored him. “Why do you always look like you're in mourning?” Jeremy wanted to answer with, “because you're a dork and I can't bend over Alice,” but the usual distraction came.
“Good morning,” said a black, middle-aged mailman, a heavy bag of mail by his side as he headed along his route. No one answered; they all looked around as if they heard nothing. “I said, good morning young people.” They all mumbled a hello. “Did any of you hear about the mauling of the Page family on 20th Street or the little girl born with a seventh toe by Birch Lane?”
“No,” said Jeremy, “but...”
“Well you would of if you had purchased my newsletter: The 20/20 Inquiry. It's only ten cents a day, and I collect at the end of the month.”
“Hold on T.T. We've already told you that nobody got the money for a newspaper when we can watch the news our phones.”
“If anybody got some money, it's you Miss Express,” said the mailman. “Get one of your boyfriends to give you a loan.”
“Whatever,” said Alice, “I said I don't got no money for your Charmin.”
“If it doesn't have the latest game reviews in it,” said Carlos, “I'll pass.”
“And maybe if you read something that happened in the real world once in a while, you'd have better grades or a girl's number or both,” said the mailman. “Listen, this just isn't about the news, but about helping a brotha out. I care about this community and want to see it have a say in the media. The Post won't publish my articles, like the family mauling or the girl with the seventh toe because they don't think they're important, but I know they are.”
“I hate to tell you this,” said Jeremy, “but nobody cares about local news. It only affects a small group of people, while national news affects everybody.”
The mailman frowned as his eyes got soggy. “And you, son, don't even seem like the type to read national news. Look, this is the last time I'm going to approach you kids. You're hurting my cause, and there's no use preaching to a dead audience. Are you going to help out your community or not?”
“We'll help our community by getting good jobs and putting back into it,” said Alice, her left hand on her hips, “not by buying something useless to us to help you out.” The mailman tried to look the two young men in their eyes, but their gazes focused on the sky and the earth.
“Well, I tried. Have a good morning.” The mailman continued along his route, the bag of mail weighing down his back. His eyes on the clouds high, Jeremy heard the heavy roaring of the bus engine two blocks away.
The sun fell far below the horizon, beckoning a descent of darkness, and Jeremy arrived home from the bus. He stepped off the public transport and headed home with heavy steps, a small, single strap bookbag swung over his shoulder. Street lights illuminated his path, yet Jeremy saw no one. It was a Friday afternoon, so everyone was probably out partying or seeing movies with their friends. If it meant the absence of the occasional neighborhood bully, he could live with walking home on an empty street; however, an uneasiness came from the absence of noise. No loud radios, giggling, arguments, or banter coming from the duplexes or houses around his own. Not even gun shots or shifting cars from the projects several blocks down. Why was it so damn quiet? Jeremy's stroll turned into a panicked stride, the cool wind whistling through the empty streets. A block from his house, the street lamp above him died, and his heart died with it. He froze and his eyes searched the light outside his dark circle. His ears heard a rustling in some hedges behind him and his eyes followed. Jeremy saw a three foot, hairless tail dragging into the bushes. A mountain lion in the city? He had to run, so he ran to his house, stepping backwards at first, then twisting his body around and sprinting. He snatched a shaking key from his pocket, held his hand steady, and shoved the key in the hole. He opened the door and locked it. “Mom? Sis?” He flicked on a light in the black house then marched forward to inform his family of the situation. “Mom, there's a mountain lion outside, call animal control! Mom!” He rushed through his home. No one in the kitchen, no one in his sister's room, no one in his mom's room, no one in the living room, no one in his room. Exhausting everywhere else, he opened the bathroom door. Light already illuminated the space. He saw his mom and younger sister laying across the bathroom floor, both of them face down in a pool of blood. He stood thoughtless, speechless. How did it get in? All the windows were closed and the doors were locked. He didn't know what to do. He fell to the floor and cried. A thought flickered through the ritualistic sadness, and it told him his life would never be the same again.
Considering the dramatic experience the young man undertook, the officers waited until the next day to question Jeremy about the death of his family. Too scared to spend the night in his house, alone, he decided to stay with his neighbors, a lesbian couple who were friends of his mom. They stayed present during his interrogation at noon the following day. Their names were Julia and Yasmine. The Officers were Ricardo and Archer. The two officers sat across from Jeremy at the kitchen table.
“So, Jeremy,” said Officer Ricardo, “tell me your side of the story. Everything that happened from the moment you arrived in your neighborhood.” Archer turned on a pocket-sized digital recorder. “Do you remember what time you got home?”
Jeremy resembled a bombing survivor, his eyes an empty daze, his mouth ajar. “I...I departed from the bus between five and six o'clock, like I always do.”
“And then what happened,” said Officer Ricardo.
“I was on my way home, as usual, but there was no one on the street. I didn't even hear anyone in the houses. I became scared and quickened my pace. Then, when I was under a street lamp, the power in it suddenly died, and behind it I heard a ruffling in the bushes and in that a long tail slid into the bushes.”
“Do you remember what animal it belonged to?” asked Officer Ricardo. “A dog, a cat, raccoon maybe?”
“It was long and hairless. I thought it might have been a mountain lion. You know, since there's been reports of them killing people on biking trails.”
“Don't screw with us, kid,” said Officer Archer. “You know cougars don't have hairless tails, only rats do. Tell me another one!”
“Officer Archer,” said Julia, leaning against the the refrigerator, “he saw his mom and sister murdered last night. You can't yell at him for getting a cougar's tail mixed-up for a rat's. Who in the hell sees a cougar's tail every day anyway?” Archer opened his mouth, but a raised hand from his fellow policeman made his shoulders loosen. Jeremy looked neither shocked or agitated; he displayed the same dead expression.
“What happened after that, Jeremy?” said Officer Ricardo.
“I was terrified and ran to my house. I unlocked the door and turned on the lights. I yelled for my mom and sister, I yelled for them to call animal control. I searched every room until I arrived at the bathroom. I opened the door and...”
“That's okay, we know the rest of the story after that,” said Officer Ricardo. “Are you sure there's nothing else you noticed about the thing in the bushes? Did it make any noises?”
“No, I didn't notice anything else. The hairless tail just slid quietly into the bushes.” Officer Archer shut off the recorder and headed for the door.
“I've heard enough,” he said. “He's the only survivor, and you mean to tell me this punk doesn't know any more than that?”
“Get out of our house, now!” said Yasmine, approaching the policemen from the living room doorway.
“Then again,” said Officer Archer, looking over his shoulder at the zombie. “If I opened the door to let some monster I trained murder my mom and sister, I guess I wouldn't have much to say either.”
“I said get out! What types of cops haggle the victims? Trained a monster to kill his mom? You should be arrested yourself and submitted to a madhouse.” Officer Archer slammed the door on his way out. As he stood from the table, the remaining officer put the digital recorder in his pocket.
“You'll have to excuse him, Jeremy, Julia, Yasmine,” said Officer Ricardo. “He was involved in two cases similar to this one already. He even knew the family on twentieth street.” A sparkle of light illuminated the abyss in Jeremy's eyes, then it faded. “They had a daughter about your age. She was Archer's son's girlfriend. It kills my soul to remember the scene. None of them were found in one piece like your mom and sister were.” Julia grimaced. “If you remember anything for the lost souls in this case, anything to help put them all to rest...” He placed his card on the table. “Give me a call. Thank you for your time Sir, Madams.” He walked out the door. Yasmine slammed it behind him.
Jeremy woke to the sound of his alarm clock the next morning and shut it off. A soft knock echoed from his door.
“Jeremy,” said Julia from behind it. “There's breakfast downstairs. Or do you want us to bring it to you?”
“I'll be down in a second,” said a muffled voice through the comforter.
“Okay. Just come down when you're ready.” Thirty minutes later he rose and did his necessary chores for the day: he took a shower, brushed his teeth, used the toilet, and rushed himself through breakfast. He said “good morning” to Julia and Yasmine. They said a low “good morning” back to him, watching him gulf down his eggs, waffles and breakfast sausages.
“You're not planning on going anywhere, are you?” said Yasmine. “You should stay home and rest for a few days.”
“I'm fine. Besides, midterms are coming up soon. I have to study.”
“If there's anything you have to do,” said Yasmine, “It's resting.”
Jeremy rose from the table, holding two sausages in his hand. He screamed, “It is the only thing I can do,” and stomped out the door. Yasmine and Julia sat speechless, staring at each other.
Outside he sighed. After walking a few blocks in empty contemplation, he met Carlos and Alice at the bus stop. Alice stayed stuck to her cell phone while Carlos approached.
“Hey, maaaan, you're not going to believe what new Pokemon event's happening in the next few months...” His eyes saw Carlos's lips move yet saw no words. How in the hell could he think about those damn pocket fucks when his mom and sis were dead? Did he not know? Was the incident neglected in the news? Was the entire neighborhood unaware of a monster that had butchered three families so far, including his own? His eyes wondered to Alice; he had to force them from her inviting cleavage to her face.
“Alice,” Jeremy found himself saying.
“Hold on T.T.,” she whispered to her phone. “What?!”
“Did you see anything on the news about the Page family, anything?”
“Naw I haven't heard nothing on them Pages,” she said, bobbing her head in small circles. “That older brother of theirs still owes me twenty bucks.”
“But they're... dead.”
Carlos put his hand on Jeremy's shoulder. “Don't tell me you believe what that old mailman was selling yesterday? I saw a segment MSNBC yesterday and saw nothing about a monster mauling the Pages or a girl with a seventh toe.” Jeremy stood dumbfounded. How did they not know? Alice turned her back to them and continued whispering in her cell. “Now, as I was saying about the newest Pokemon event where they're releasing...” Jeremy pretended to listen and his eyes kept creeping to Alice's ass until the bus came. He didn't know what to think, so he didn't.
Soon after the morning star fell, Jeremy stepped off the bus and into his neighborhood. On his way home, he bought a small dagger from an antique store, in case something with a rat's tail the size of a cougar showed itself outside of some bushes. Similar to the night before, he heard no one outside. Not even children complaining, arguments or gunshots in the distance. He strolled with his hands in his pockets, gripping the dagger in his left tighter as a steady breeze ruffled the vegetation. He passed under the same streetlamp which blacked-out yesterday, and forced himself from under the shining light that abandoned him before. Something fluttered high above his head behind him, prompting Jeremy to stop breathing. He turned around and drew his dagger. A brown pigeon stood on the streetlamp and cooed. This comforted Jeremy, if only a little. At least the pigeons weren't dead on the street. No long, hairless tails sighted, Jeremy arrived at his new home. He knew he was home alone from the absence of Julia and Yasmine's car. Jeremy secured the door behind himself and headed for his new room. As he lay on his bed, he wondered how his life would change now that he was alone. He wondered if it would change. Something, some giant rat or cougar killed the two people closest to his heart. He would no longer hear about his sister's latest boyfriends, stories delivered with her shining smile and enthusiastic countenance, regardless of whether she was the dumper or the dumpee. His mom would never worry about him again or kiss him goodnight. Her loving smile and wishes of him were gone as well. He looked towards the ceiling with the same zombie-like expression he gave the police officers, then his eyes began to water.
He heard the front door open and knew Yasmine and Julia had arrived. He turned his silent tears away from the door frame. Five minutes of sitting in silence, his tears stopped and his heart knocked his chest. If they were home, wouldn't he hear some sort of conversation, or at least the car park in the driveway? He grabbed his dagger and crept to the doorway. He heard a low dragging across the floor. Upon reaching the boundary between the bedrooms and the kitchen area, he heard noises where the refrigerator must have been. He heard glass jars crashing against the floor, rummaging through plastic and styrofoam, loud smacking, and a bear's growl. Jeremy used his empty hand to shield his panicked breaths from escaping his mouth. He dared not see the creature. He had no desire to see what it was, just to get the hell away from it. He moved for the door while it ravaged the kitchen. Jeremy bypassed the kitchen and could see the front door wide open past twin recliner sofas and two foot rests. He quickened his pace. In his empty-minded state, his foot stubbed the corner of one of the recliners. He withheld his cry of pain, but the sofa still moved, and an inquisitive growl followed.
By instinct, Jeremy sprinted back to his safe haven, his room. Heavy footsteps stumbled across the ceramic and probably wet kitchen tile and quickened pace behind Jeremy. He slammed the door and locked it, dry tears staining below his eyes as he gazed at the door with horror. Claws scarred the door, Rover's paws, only five times bigger. The creature scratched against the door until the wood began to give, and soon a single red paw with red scales and talons broke through, accompanied by thrashing for flesh and growls which crossed between a bear and a pissed-off bat. Jeremy took the dagger and stabbed the hand the moment it rested. It roared and tore a wider hole as it pulled back its paw. Red blood. His mouth and body shivering, the young man ran on his bed and leaned his body against the cold window, the dagger raised and ready, his eyes never leaving the hole in the door. A yellow, cat's eye peered through the hole and glared at Jeremy with predatory intent. The entire door shook on its hinges as Jeremy cried and begged for God. The door refused to give, and soon the shaking stopped. The young man sat petrified. His heart froze. His breathing froze. His blood chilled. He fell slack against his wall and window, a smile spreading over his face. He was happy to be alive, yet reason rose and said he needed to call the police. Jeremy then heard glass cracking. Two scaly paws and arms broke through the glass. The claws punctured his shoulders and dragged Jeremy through the window pane.
The following morning, Officer Ricardo woke beside his wife to the phone ringing. He answered to Officer Archer.
“Hey Ric, sleeping in late again, are you?”
“What the hell are you talking about,” said Officer Ricardo. “It's freaking 6:00am in the morning. I'm not due to come in for another hour. What's the deal?”
“That kid we interviewed two days ago...”
“Yeah, what about him?”
“A call came in a sec ago. They found him, dead. Five blocks away from his house.”
“Killed the same way?”
“The same way,” said Officer Archer, his voice solemn. A moment of silence followed.
“Listen Archer. Don't blame yourself for blaming the kid, or for him dying. We did the best we could, and he was our only suspect that lived.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“We'll catch this son-of-a-bitch. Don't worry, he'll slip-up. They always do.”
“I know.”
“I'll meet you there. See you in a few.” The phone hang up. Officer Ricardo skipped breakfast and put on his coat outside the door. On the way, he passed the mailman, a sack of mail slung across his shoulders making his back stoop, his right hand bandaged severely to conceal a seeping stain of blood. “Hey, Mortey. You still trying to sell that private newspaper of yours? You might get fired if the post office found out.”
“That's only if a certain officer opens his damn mouth,” said the mailman, growling.
“I have more important things to do than tattletale on a man trying to make an honest living. Have a good day, Mortey.” Ricardo got in his car, turned on his siren and drove away. The mailman smiled and stalked towards a group of six college bound students waiting for the bus.
“Hey man, you guys hear about the mauling of the Smithson family on 19th Street or the girl born with the seventh toe by Birch Lane? Well you would have if had bought my newsletter: The 20/20 Inquiry...”