Awakening

The man opened his eyes.  He lay on the floor of a kitchen next to two overturned chairs. Rolling on to his side he used one to help him stand up, blinking, and shook his head in an unsuccessful attempt to clear the fog within.  Shutters outside the window above the sink blocked out most of the day’s light but a thin line of it illuminated two doorways on either side of the room. He leaned over and picked up first one chair, then the other, pushing them back under the table against the wall, and made for the door on the right. 

It led into a living room full of dusty flower patterned furniture around a smashed television set.  He could see where the other doorway entered by a larger table in an attached room, and a set of stairs going up in between.  The shutters outside these windows were closed too, and the front door boarded up heavily with crossed two by fours.  He headed toward the bottom of the stairs, avoiding the broken glass on the floor, and stopped to listen.  Hearing nothing, either up the stairs or outside, he headed up.

Rifling through the drawers in each of the two bedrooms turned up nothing of interest, but he did find a set of golf clubs in one of the closets and selected a five iron. Heading back downstairs he used the club to lever one of the shutters in the living room slightly to see outside a bit better. They had been nailed shut from the outside but he managed to widen the crack. Placing one eye against it, he looked around.

The houses across the street had burned to the ground and were still smoking.  He couldn’t see to either side of the house he was in, but he did notice that several of the branches on the tree outside ended abruptly in a line, all unnaturally smooth.  He let the shutter close and tried his luck in the kitchen, but this one had been more securely locked shut and all he could make out through the crack was a fence across a small backyard littered with debris.

Heading back to the front door, he attempted to wedge the golf club behind the boards but it wouldn’t fit.  Frowning, he leaned back and looked around.  He was the only person in this house. The door had been nailed shut from the inside and none of the windows would open.  It stood to reason that he had been the one who had nailed it shut, but he sure didn’t remember that.  He didn’t …. remember much of anything actually.  

He shook his head again; that was irrelevant right now.  There had to be a hammer around somewhere. Had to be.  Getting down on his hands and knees he looked underneath the couches.  Dust bunnies galore, but no tools.  He went back into the kitchen and began pulling drawers out and opening cabinets.  In the third drawer he hit pay dirt - a small hammer rested amidst a variety of other junk.  He grabbed it and set to the task of freeing himself.

(***)

The last board came off easier than the first several had.  The man undid the dead bolt and reached for the knob, then paused as he heard something.  He put an ear to the door and gripped the hammer tighter.  Nothing.  Maybe he had imagined it.  Still, it paid to be cautious, considering that he had no idea why he had locked himself in this house he didn’t recognize in the first place.  He slowly turned the knob and eased the door a half inch open so the latch was no longer engaged.  Then he stepped back, picked up the club and eased the door the rest of the way open from a few feet away.

As soon as the door opened a few feet, he heard the noise again.  This time he knew he wasn’t imagining it. And it was much closer.  A kind of… clicking? It wasn’t quite the insectoid clicking he had thought he had heard the first time.  Now that the door wasn’t obstructing the sound he could tell it was more of a tapping.  And it was coming from the front walkway.  He pulled the club back, and the sound stopped.  The man froze.

Nothing happened.  Ten seconds passed. Then thirty.  A minute.  He barely breathed.  As quietly as he could, he repositioned himself into a batter’s stance, then lobbed the hammer on to the front step outside the door, and immediately gripped the club with both hands.  

The moment the hammer landed, something slammed into the door, exploding it inwards and knocking it off one of its hinges.  The man caught a glimpse of long matted red fur on some kind of large creature that had pounced on the tool before his reflexes kicked in and he swung the club with everything he had, attempting a 400 yard drive with a fairway club.  It connected, hard.  He felt something crunch and heard a guttural grunting as the thing was knocked off the steps and into the yard.  

It whirled around instantly and charged straight for him.  The man barely brought the club back around in time, but managed a swing it straight down onto its skull.  The crunch he heard this time ensured it wouldn’t be lunging for him again as it collapsed in a heap at his feet.  Black ooze drooled out of its open maw below the now caved in forehead. 

Revolted, the man cried out and took several steps back.  After it continued to lay there unmoving he took a moment to inspect it, from a distance.  

The head could best be described as canine, dominated by a long snout lined with blackened and broken teeth. There was no nose, just a small jutting horn at the tip, above the front teeth.  A mane of mangy red fur gave it a leonine appearance as he looked down it’s body, but no lion he had ever seen had six legs.  Each leg ended in three curved claws, several inches long, with no apparent paws.  It somehow walked on those claws. The fetid stench that rolled off it in waves caused him to gag and retch, dry heaving several times.  He fled into the kitchen to escape it.

Leaning against a cabinet he hyperventilated for a few moments until he regained some composure.  He noticed more or the black ichor smeared into the head of the club, mingled with a few patches of red fur.  He hurriedly turned on the faucet to rinse it off, but no water came out.  He tried the hot water handle with a similar lack of effect.  Grabbing a towel from the counter, he rubbed it clean, then kept rubbing it over and over again, focusing on a simple task rather than coming to grips with the monster that almost disemboweled him now lying dead in the next room.  Eventually he slowed, then stopped polishing it, and looked at the door that led back to the living room.  Taking a deep breath he walked slowly towards it and peered out.  

The creature still lay there, with a larger spreading stain of black gore around it.  He took a deep breath of clean kitchen air then made for the front door, edging around the beast. He stopped only briefly to listen, hearing nothing this time,  before peeking his head outSide and looking around.

The neighborhood was quiet.  None of the houses on his side of the street had burned but the whole block across from him had.  He noticed that the trees still had green leaves, but all the lawns were brown even though this didn’t look like a neighborhood that would let more than day pass without watering some grass.  Squinting at the sun he could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back, and not just because of the encounter he had just had.  It was hot outside, and judging by the sun’s position, likely midday.  Nothing moved. 

He stepped outside, holding the club out in front of him, and edged around the house. Glancing around the corner and seeing nothing, he dashed toward the neighbor’s house.  All the shutters were closed and nailed shut on this one too, but the front door stood wide open.  It looked like it was still solid, unlike the one he had left behind. Approaching it slowly he peered in but saw only the darkness of a boarded up house so he tapped quickly on a shudder, then hefted the club and watched the door.  Nothing.  He leaned down and picked up a handful of dry bark mulch, then threw it into the house.  Still nothing.  He crept in.

As his eyes adjusted to the interior he saw a much more modern arrangement, all glass tables and swanky matching metal framed furniture.  As quietly as possible he eased the door shut, but didn’t lock it yet.  He wanted to make a room to room inspection first.  Circling around the small house, opening every door, and looking under every piece of furniture, he found no monsters.  

When he passed by the front door again, he locked it with the knob lock, the dead bolt, and dragged a sofa in front of it.  Then he went back to the kitchen where he had seen several cans of beer in the fridge, cracked one, and drank the whole thing in three long swigs.  Placing it on the counter, he opened another and got halfway through that one before slowing down.  He returned to the front room and flopped down on one of the chairs that faced the door, placing the club across his knees and the beer on the table next to him, and stared at nothing.

(***)

He awoke in darkness, forgetting at first where he was.  Only for a second though; the memories of the smelly beast came flooding back, and the golf club, waking up on the kitchen floor… that’s as far he got.  No other memories returned.  Before he could ponder that any further he realized why he had awoken; something was knocking.  And speaking.

“Hello? Would you let me in please? Hello? <knock knock> They could come by any time. <knock knock> Please? Hello?”  The man stared at the door.  Surely those things couldn’t speak?? Could they? 

He stood up and hefted the club. Then responded with a cautious yet repetitve, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god! If he is even still listening. Yes! Please, let me in?”  The voice belonged to a male, likely an older one.

The man in the house cleared his throat. “Who, um, who are you?” 

“Can we do introductions inside? There are always more of them in the dark.”

“Them?”

“Yeah, them, the ones like the one you bashed over there next door.  Nice work by the way.  Helluva hit it looks like.  You must be a big fella.”

The man looked down. He was indeed reasonably muscular.  Feeling a surge of confidence, and deep curiosity, he pulled the sofa back then unlocked the door.  “Step back,” he ordered the older man.  When he heard footsteps move away from the door he opened it a crack.

The man stood on the walkway, hands raised in front of him.  A lantern flickered on the ground next to him.  He wore a dirty brown leather coat that covered him down to his knees.  Stringy gray hair lay limply on his head, though it was still speckled with some black.  He slowly turned in a circle with his hands still up.

“I’m not unarmed, but I’ll not give up my knife.” He said when he had completed his rotation. The sheath for a 5” blade was attached to his belt and some kind of ivory or bone handle protruded from it.  “May I come in?”

The man opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back; the older man grabbed his lantern, scuttled quickly inside, and shut the door behind him, locking it immediately.

“Did you have this in front of it?” He gestured to the couch. Without waiting for a reply he pushed it into place. “Good. That’s good.” He turned back toward his host and placed the lantern on a table, leaning down to turn the light level down low.

“The name’s Wilson.” He said as he stood up and stuck out his hand.  

“Oh, uh. Nice to meet you Wilson.” Glancing at the head of the club in his hand, which read ‘Callaway,’ he said, “Mine is, uh, mine’s Cal.”

“Well hello Cal.  You’re not as big as I expected, but you’ll do.” Wilson leaned back, appraising Cal. 

“I’ll do? What did you have in mind?” Suddenly cautious again, Cal took a half step back, and eyed Wilson’s blade.

“For company!  Been months!  Don’t know what you thought I meant, but don’t get any funny ideas young man!” Wilson glared at Cal mockingly, then winked, and collapsed onto the couch, putting his hands behind his head to fluff a pillow. He closed his eyes. 

“Months? Wha.. How did you know I was in here?” Cal asked, not yet ready to let his guard down.

Wilson opened one eye to look up at Cal, “Oh I opened all the doors in this neighborhood weeks ago.  The doglings around here don’t use knobs.” Then he closed his eyes again. “More questions in the morning. Sleep first. Turn that off, wouldja?” He gestured at the lantern. Cal obliged, and sat back in his chair in the darkness.