rummage through the rest of the closet. What she spoke of I ended up finding behind the chest. My small leather pouch, one I had used to carry around my long gone pet rat, lay there on the floor. I picked it up with the greatest of caution, scared at what I may find in there.
I shouldn’t have been.
There was two bottles of Excedrin in it, along with a smaller bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen. Also in it was a pouch of tobacco, almost overflowing, and a couple of packs of rolling papers. Another small bundle, wrapped in normal paper, was there also. I cursed at it, for how many times would the woman do this. Why did she have to wrap everything up? I pulled the string and it fell open, a bag of pot, almost an ounce from the look of it, fell onto the floor. I stared at it, the paper in my hand, and just sat there, dumbfounded. I looked at the paper, and saw “For medicinal purposes only. I will understand.” written there. Only my baby would leave me drugs during all of this. I stood up, leaving the dope where it had fallen, and walked out of the room.
I walked beck through the house and to the back porch. I went to pick up my backpack, and found myself staring at the basement door. Nothing seemed off, and I found my mind wondering at why she would warn me away. I straightened out and walked over to the door, leaning towards it and placing my ear to it. After a few moments, I shook my head and reached back down for my bag. I hadn’t heard anything, and I needed to be on my way.
I made my way back to the bedroom, trying to figure out how I was going to fit all this in the backpack I was carrying.
23.
I held up the keychain and had my finger poised to push the button. I paused for a moment, curiosity and fear holding my finger at bay. I was sure that whatever my beloved had cooked up was all for my best interests, but I was a little scared at what it might just be. Finally I decided to say fuck it, and pushed the small button down.
Almost instantly, a little ways down the road, I heard a stereo start up. Loud bells could be heard, and I recognized the starting chords of ACDC’s “Hells Bells”. The sound grew and grew, until it could be heard clearly to me, like the music was being played through my own private headphones. I watched the glass in my house’s windows rattle, and saw knick-knacks start to shake on the shelves. Through the window I saw the dead in the area start to flock to towards the sound, which seemed to be emanating from a house a little down the block. Looking closer, I noticed that there were more than a couple of large, high-rise speakers setting on the home’s porch.
Gods bless you Baby, I thought to myself.
I hefted my pack, shaking my head a little in amusement, and started towards the back door. I had tried to fit most of what my baby had left for me in the pack, but had to leave behind four of the Molotov’s, and purposely left the dynamite. The pistol, now loaded, I had shoved in the front of my belt, and had strapped the bat and machete to the back of the pack. I carried the cane though, and had traded the knife Alec had given me for an older kitchen knife my father-in-law, Carl, had gave us long ago. I felt like an idiot, like some cliché’ horror movie hero.
I went to the back door once again, and had just placed my hand on the doorknob when the basement door shook violently and issued a loud thump. I turned slowly towards the door. Once more there was an impact against it from the other side, and saw the wood bow and crack slightly. My eye widened, and I backed up, running into the doorframe. Again and again something hit the basement door, and whatever it was could now be heard growling through it. Then, with all suddenness, all sound stopped. Whatever it was must have either knocked itself out, or given up.
I had just turned back to the door, when the howl came up.
The ferocity of it shook me to my core. It sounded from some dog brought straight from Hell,
I shouldn’t have been.
There was two bottles of Excedrin in it, along with a smaller bottle of prescription strength ibuprofen. Also in it was a pouch of tobacco, almost overflowing, and a couple of packs of rolling papers. Another small bundle, wrapped in normal paper, was there also. I cursed at it, for how many times would the woman do this. Why did she have to wrap everything up? I pulled the string and it fell open, a bag of pot, almost an ounce from the look of it, fell onto the floor. I stared at it, the paper in my hand, and just sat there, dumbfounded. I looked at the paper, and saw “For medicinal purposes only. I will understand.” written there. Only my baby would leave me drugs during all of this. I stood up, leaving the dope where it had fallen, and walked out of the room.
I walked beck through the house and to the back porch. I went to pick up my backpack, and found myself staring at the basement door. Nothing seemed off, and I found my mind wondering at why she would warn me away. I straightened out and walked over to the door, leaning towards it and placing my ear to it. After a few moments, I shook my head and reached back down for my bag. I hadn’t heard anything, and I needed to be on my way.
I made my way back to the bedroom, trying to figure out how I was going to fit all this in the backpack I was carrying.
23.
I held up the keychain and had my finger poised to push the button. I paused for a moment, curiosity and fear holding my finger at bay. I was sure that whatever my beloved had cooked up was all for my best interests, but I was a little scared at what it might just be. Finally I decided to say fuck it, and pushed the small button down.
Almost instantly, a little ways down the road, I heard a stereo start up. Loud bells could be heard, and I recognized the starting chords of ACDC’s “Hells Bells”. The sound grew and grew, until it could be heard clearly to me, like the music was being played through my own private headphones. I watched the glass in my house’s windows rattle, and saw knick-knacks start to shake on the shelves. Through the window I saw the dead in the area start to flock to towards the sound, which seemed to be emanating from a house a little down the block. Looking closer, I noticed that there were more than a couple of large, high-rise speakers setting on the home’s porch.
Gods bless you Baby, I thought to myself.
I hefted my pack, shaking my head a little in amusement, and started towards the back door. I had tried to fit most of what my baby had left for me in the pack, but had to leave behind four of the Molotov’s, and purposely left the dynamite. The pistol, now loaded, I had shoved in the front of my belt, and had strapped the bat and machete to the back of the pack. I carried the cane though, and had traded the knife Alec had given me for an older kitchen knife my father-in-law, Carl, had gave us long ago. I felt like an idiot, like some cliché’ horror movie hero.
I went to the back door once again, and had just placed my hand on the doorknob when the basement door shook violently and issued a loud thump. I turned slowly towards the door. Once more there was an impact against it from the other side, and saw the wood bow and crack slightly. My eye widened, and I backed up, running into the doorframe. Again and again something hit the basement door, and whatever it was could now be heard growling through it. Then, with all suddenness, all sound stopped. Whatever it was must have either knocked itself out, or given up.
I had just turned back to the door, when the howl came up.
The ferocity of it shook me to my core. It sounded from some dog brought straight from Hell,
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