Collection by John Rector Page A

road was gone.   The corn had covered it, growing up the driveway to the porch, brown and rotted and thick.   In the distance, the oak tree, tire swing hanging motionless from its branches, stood dead and skeletal, silhouetted against the fading light of the sky.  
    “Mattie!”   She turned and ran back inside.   A shadow moved at the top of the stairs, then disappeared.   Mattie looked for the gun, but it was gone.   The buzzing was louder, drowning out his voice.   She walked toward the stairs and put her hand on the railing.   It was cold and slick against her skin and she pulled away.  
    “Mattie!”
    She walked slowly and listened for his voice through the buzzing.   The air was thick with the sound, growing louder with each step.   There were pictures lining the wall along the stairway, family portraits and school photos, a happy family, children smiling from behind glass frames.  
    The bedroom door was closed.   She reached out and put her hand against the wood.   It buzzed and vibrated under her fingers.   Mattie took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
    Quiet.  
    Everything stopped.   Nathan was sitting on the bed, blond hair falling forward over his forehead.   He was looking down at his hands.
    Mattie walked into the room.   “Nathan?”
    Nathan looked up, and Mattie stopped.   His eyes were gone.   Only black sockets, cold and empty, stared back at her.   Mattie began to scream.
    Nathan stared at her, and tiny cracks formed along his skin.   Behind them, she saw movement.   His body shook, and his skin split and came apart in small, dissolving explosions of noise and flight.   The buzz was deafening.   Flies, millions of them, filled the room, choking the air black.   Mattie closed her eyes, feeling them in her hair, and on her skin, and in her throat as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed.
     
    ~
     
    Something hit the ground, and Mattie opened her eyes.   She sat up and reached for the gun in the corner.   The room was dark except for a gray morning glow that sank through the window.  
    Nathan was on his side with his back to her.   One of the belts had come loose.
    “Nathan?”   He didn’t move.   She sat the gun down and reached for the leather strap on the headboard.   “The belt came off.   I need to put it back.”   She ran her hand along the strap to the knot at the end.  
    His hand was still attached.
    Mattie dropped the belt and the hand thumped against the wood floor.   She picked up the gun and stepped away from the bed.   Nathan was still on his side, and she could hear wet popping sounds coming from his throat.   She moved around the room.   Nathan didn’t look up.   He was chewing through his other wrist, and the fingers on his hand twitched with each bite.  
    The sound she made surprised them both, and when he looked up Mattie saw the gray, rotted flesh between his teeth.   He reached out to her and black blood dripped from the open arm and coated the bed like oil.
    Mattie ran.
    She opened the door and took the steps, two at a time, to the entryway below, then through the kitchen to the garage.   She dropped the rifle in the passenger seat and went around to the overhead door, turned the handle, and lifted it open.
    The morning air was cold, and the wind from the north chilled her skin.   The sun was coming up, and a long, thin strip of light sliced across the horizon.   She breathed deep, letting the air clear her mind, then walked back to the Jeep and started the engine.   Static hissed out of the speakers, and Mattie jumped at the sound.   She reached forward and turned the radio off.  
    Now the tears came all at once.   She couldn’t stop them.   They covered her like a wave, and she leaned her head on the steering wheel, squeezing until her fingers ached.   As the tears passed, Mattie wiped them away with her sleeve.   She put the Jeep in gear, and when she pulled out of the garage she stopped.
    There were shadows moving