The muse for this chapter hit in the middle of working on the previous one
The muse for this chapter hit in the middle of working on the previous one. But the thing that stood in the way of this is the little fact that I dislike horror movies. So I went with the obvious alternative, B-movie horror baby! Bruce Campbell, you're my hero.
Ring. Ring, damn you. Ring, ring- Jerry stared hard at the cracked old clock hanging over the class like a shinning get out of jail free pass. The day had been too long; one of those muggy autumn days, on the verge of a storm, which dragged onward like a slug. Yet the seconds hand was defying the expectations of earth logic, slowing down just to spite the boy. I swear to God that if that thing doesn't ring soon, I'm making a run for it.
Finally the bell gave up on its torturous pace and rang; a sound of sweet, sweet liberation. Jerry was out of his seat and through the door as quickly as the others. A few kids who Jerry had befriended since starting school called out. Jerry waved them off as he weaved through the crowd in order to get out faster. To be fair, Jerry was not just in a rush to escape the soul crushing concrete prison of learning. There was another problem that Jerry had no desire to deal with.
"Bite anyone today, sparky?"
"Shut up man. I really don't need your shit," Jerry glared at the smaller boy, but not as heated as it had been when the two had first met. While the boys were not friends, they had formed a sort of truce after the drug incident.
Jerry simply could not figure out how to feel about Bobby. The older boy still acted like he was the man of the house, and acted as if his few extra years made him a man of the world. Plus the guy lived to embrace Jerry, going out of his way to tease and play pranks. Just the other day Jerry had woken up to find his head and eyebrows shaven, and a rude gesture scribbled on top of his skull. It had drove Jerry crazy trying to figure out how Bobby had done it without waking him up.
But the kid was not all bad. The two had a common interest in hockey, playing a pickup game now and then as well as cheering on the Redhawks. The young Mercer was not as stupid as he seemed most of the time; Jerry had found that out quickly. Bobby was quick on his feet, forming and changing plans as obstacles came up. Jerry had noticed that a few of the kids in the system who came from bad situations had the same way of thinking. Not that Jerry was stupid; he just never had to learn this survival mechanism.
And though he hated to admit it, Jerry could see Bobby as an older brother type. The teasing was nonstop, but it was never as sever as he had seen others in the homes get. No permanent harm was ever part of the pranks, though the teasing and nicknames would probably last as long as Jerry was in the same house. Plus, that protective streak in Bobby could be endearing, if somewhat annoying. It was made very clear that no one in their neighborhood should sell drugs to the newest face in the Mercer home. All for the better Jerry guessed, there had been times when he would have sold his soul for a score. He supposed that he always would, and having a force of nature like Bobby making him stay clean was a good thing. But it was after an incident with a group of rednecks that Jerry saw just how protective Bobby was. He had not been there himself, but rumors had painted a rather painful picture.
When Jerry had asked why, Bobby had given him a look, "No one messes with the Mercers. If you live here, you're considered one too."
A sudden flash caused Jerry to stop his musing. The heavy clouds overhead began to open, trickling warning shots before the storm that had been building all day.
"Shit," Bobby muttered, glancing up. "So much for Tommy Gennis in the park. That dick owes me twenty."
With the exception of Bobby's glowering, the two traveled home in silence. By the time they reached the house, the storm had come to full life. Water cascaded from the sky as if Lake Michigan itself was falling on their heads. Racing, the boys dashed through the door. As soon as they passed the inner doorway, drenched in icy water, the race began to get up the stairs first. They began pushing each other to get ahead, falling back to dirty tricks if needed. Bobby won, grabbing Jerry's foot and pulling him down the stairs to give Bobby the seconds needed to claim the bathroom.
"Bobby! That wasn't fair!" Jerry slammed his fist against the door. It was a futile attempt but he still tried. Laughter drifted through the door until the sound of the shower drowned it out. Stomping toward his room, Jerry muttered, "I hope you slip on the soap."
Evelyn sighed as she reclined back into her chair, rubbing fatigue from her eyes. She loves her job with every fiber of her being, but the stream of paperwork could be straining on one's sight.
"Oh Eve, you put us to shame," a petite redhead at the next desk waved at the vast stacks of manila folders dominating most of the desk.
Evelyn smiled, "No, no, I just have more stamina," she waved at pictures which claimed the only free space of her desk, "I get a lot of practice at home."
They were all shots of Bobby and Jerry, though the pictures of Bobby had a few more then the younger boy. Most of them were candid shots taken while the boys were unaware. Some pictures were taken during sports, or hanging out around the house, with Bobby's pictures always being the more violent or overbearing.
While Evelyn looked upon these photos with affection, the other woman saw trouble, "You are a saint Evelyn; I could never have tamed a boy like that."
Evelyn's eyes gleamed with good humor in a way that only Evelyn could, laughing but never making a person feel insulted, "I did no such thing. Bobby is a force, there is no changing that. All he needed was love and some responsibility," shifting a folder into the finished pile Evelyn continued, "And Jerry just needed an older brother."
The woman looked uncertain at Evelyn's confidence. She had read the files for the boys and was not as optimistic as Evelyn. In her experience, kids like these did not end up being normal members of society. True some could do great things; she had seen a few come out alright. But somehow, at least with Bobby, she knew that nothing good could come from him.
Changing the subject, she asked, "So what are they up to tonight?
"Oh, hell yeah!" Bobby crowed, watching the zombie spurt out a milky substance and blood.
"Man, that's gross as hell," Jerry smirked at the B-movie gore. "Common, chop her up! Don't just stand there!"
Bobby grabbed a handful of popcorn, "Is this too much for ya sweetheart? Don't want you having nightmares on me."
"Screw you Bobby," Jerry muttered, keeping his eyes on the screen.
They turned their attention back toward the television as the main character moved toward the cellar door. Both boys had edged forward, waiting for whatever was coming. Just as the zombie's hands burst out the floorboards, the lights went dark. The screams which followed cut through the house like a knife.
"God, you're such a pussy," Bobby jumped off the couch, brushing the popcorn which had been thrown onto him by a stray foot.
Jerry glared at the older boy's silhouette, "Says the guy who screamed like a girl."
Bobby threw a kernal in Jerry's general direction, "That was a manly grunt of surprise." Walking over to the window, Bobby peered out into the darkened street. Most of the neighborhood was just as dark as their house. "Shit, someone must of hit a pole or somethin'."
Jerry shook his head and got off the couch. Making his way slowly, careful to feel for the coffee table, he made his way toward the kitchen. "Doesn't Evelyn keep a flashlight on the fridge?"
"Yeah, Ma stashes them around," as always, Bobby seemed to take it as a personal offense when Jerry did not refer to Evelyn as their mother, "Some candles too, though where that woman keeps the matches."
"Right, and have the whole house burnt down around us," Jerry spat.
"I only singed your stupid book. Why you still bitching about it?"
"I- ARH, DAMN IT!" Jerry clutched his calf. He had struck his leg roughly into the shelves beside the door. Still swearing, he tried to ignore Bobby's laughter.
A sudden noise caused both boys to become silent. Jerry turned to where he knew the staircase was, that sound had come from the upper level. That sounds like a window closing, Jerry thought nervously.
"What the hell," Bobby's voice was sharp enough to pierce rock. The boy turned toward the steps and began to make his way up. Jerry took a moment to find the flashlight before following the older boy up.
A few seconds behind Bobby's thundering tread, Jerry switched the light on. It was strange how darkness makes familiar surroundings look like some freaky haunted house. Nothing in this semi-foreign landscape seemed out of order. Jerry was beginning to think that they had imagined the sound, or something had fallen.
Another crash sounded from behind Jerry's door. The room's owner hesitated, not sure if he wanted to know what was in there. Bobby, on the other hand, pulled the door open with a crash. He charged in, but no robbers were standing inside, or some creature of the night.
Jerry tried flipping the lights on, flicking on for a moment. In that instant of sight, a horrible figure swooped down from the ceiling. The bat swooped toward Bobby, hell bent on blood.
"SHIT!" Bobby dived, hugging the floor.
The lights failed again, sending the room into darkness. But the screeching of the bat continued, as the sound of its wings raced around their heads. A hard slap of a wing against his cheek made Jerry drop the flashlight. The traitorous thing rolled under the bed, casting just enough light to make the room dance with shadows instead of pitch black.
Dashing for the bed, Jerry dragged a cover over his head. Once he was protected in his cotton cocoons, he started toward the closet. The bat screeched from a spot on the ceiling, "Get something to smash it!"
Jerry had to duck as a shoe went flying from Bobby's direction, "What you think I'm looking for!"
Pushing boxes around, Jerry found the bat and came out swinging. "Damn it Jer, watch it!"
"Sorry man," Jerry squinted at the shadows. Everything was melding into one another until he could barely make out the outline of Bobby, let alone the little bat.
The lights overhead flicked into existence. Jerry had a moment of relief when the bat swooped toward him. Through instinct, Jerry swung forward wildly in an attempt to kill the menace. Instead of throwing the creature to its messy death against a wall, the force sent the creature spiraling. Regain its balance; the bat flew right out a window they had not noticed was open. Bobby, holding a hockey stick, joined Jerry in staring at the window in stunned silence.
The door downstairs creaked open, "Boys', I'm home!" Evelyn called from the door.
The boys stared at each other, glanced at the window that the bat had escaped through, and back again. Bobby broke the shocked silence, muttering, "We never speak of this again, got it?"
Jerry nodded mutely as he dropped his protective cover. The sooner this was forgotten, the better.
Sorry for the wait, my friends. Crappy month, crappy mood, crappy health. But on the positive side, I do now own both Evil Dead and Evil Dead II. That makes me very happy. So bust out those chainsaws, cause Angel is coming to town.
Groovy.