Read Online Amongst the Dead by David Bernstein - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Bernstein
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everybody.
Riley had had a dog once. A Jack Russell terrier named Smiley. She hadn’t named the canine; that was her mother’s idea because everyone who’d ever seen the dog said it was always smiling.
Smiley was prancing through beautiful green fields of freshly cut grass. Daisies and lilac bushes dotted the hillside. Riley, her mother and father sat below a huge maple tree eating a picnic lunch.
Her mother was laughing and her stomach was large and round, pregnant. She was carrying Riley’s baby brother. Riley’s father was sipping wine from a wineglass.
Together they watched Smiley run around, chasing beetles and crickets as they bounced into the air. Everyone was jovial, laughing and having fun, feeling the warmth of family envelop them like a numinous spell. This was how life should’ve been, but as she looked up, dark ominous clouds rolled in like gigantic angry ghosts. The sun’s shiny rays were extinguished. The gentle afternoon breezes became fierce, hurricane-like gusts of wind.
Riley saw her mother’s face turn grim—eyebrows raised, mouth agape. The woman cried out to her husband. Riley looked around. Where was her father? He was just here. She stood up, her heart beating faster. Off in the distance she saw a tornado approaching. Her mother’s face became a scowl, both hands on her stomach. She cried out, arms outstretched for her daughter. “Help me,” she pleaded as her eyes filled with tears. Riley tried to get up, but a pair of arms shot up from the ground. Powerful fingers, bony and rotten, wrapped around Riley’s ankles, keeping her in place.
“Mommy!” she cried out.
Her mother withered in agony. Something was wrong with the baby. Where was her father? Riley’s mother lifted her dress up, revealing the bulbous lump of white skin. Slits began to show themselves, blood spewing out of them like a dam bursting. Her mother continued to scream as the slits became tears. Tiny fingers emerged from the rips before the flesh was completely torn open, her undead brother crawling out.
Riley awoke screaming, kicking her arms and legs wildly. A hand was resting on her chest.
“Shush, child,” a soft male voice told her.
Confused, she opened her eyes and tried sitting up. She took a deep breath, and began coughing uncontrollably, each hack burning her raw and swollen throat.
“Lay still,” the voice said again. She was able to make out a man and a woman crouching on either side of her. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, sending chills throughout her body. Her teeth began to chatter, but she quickly fell back into blackness.
A week since falling unconscious, she was awake. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was on a soft bed with fluffy blankets and cottony soft pillows. The last thing she remembered was walking into a dilapidated house and passing out. She was definitely somewhere else.
Sitting up, she looked around. She felt better, much better. Her throat no longer hurt and her head felt clear. She was in a bedroom. The walls were painted a bright white and were spotless. Framed pictures of horses and flowers hung from the walls. There was a dresser with a glass of clear liquid—probably water, a bowl and a small mauve-colored washcloth. A long mirror hung on the back of a closet door. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils. The air was fresh, not musty or mildewy like so many of the houses she’d been in. Grabbing a handful of comforter, she brought it to her face. The heavy blanket smelled clean, like the air. Had she gone to heaven?
Her stomach began rumbling, the odor of cooked eggs and potatoes entering her nose. She could see the images in her mind as if she were looking at them. Her mouth was watering, causing her to have to swallow—the salivary ducts working overtime.
Lifting the covers off and flinging them to the side, Riley slipped out of bed. The wood floor was cool; her body toasty from the layers of
Riley had had a dog once. A Jack Russell terrier named Smiley. She hadn’t named the canine; that was her mother’s idea because everyone who’d ever seen the dog said it was always smiling.
Smiley was prancing through beautiful green fields of freshly cut grass. Daisies and lilac bushes dotted the hillside. Riley, her mother and father sat below a huge maple tree eating a picnic lunch.
Her mother was laughing and her stomach was large and round, pregnant. She was carrying Riley’s baby brother. Riley’s father was sipping wine from a wineglass.
Together they watched Smiley run around, chasing beetles and crickets as they bounced into the air. Everyone was jovial, laughing and having fun, feeling the warmth of family envelop them like a numinous spell. This was how life should’ve been, but as she looked up, dark ominous clouds rolled in like gigantic angry ghosts. The sun’s shiny rays were extinguished. The gentle afternoon breezes became fierce, hurricane-like gusts of wind.
Riley saw her mother’s face turn grim—eyebrows raised, mouth agape. The woman cried out to her husband. Riley looked around. Where was her father? He was just here. She stood up, her heart beating faster. Off in the distance she saw a tornado approaching. Her mother’s face became a scowl, both hands on her stomach. She cried out, arms outstretched for her daughter. “Help me,” she pleaded as her eyes filled with tears. Riley tried to get up, but a pair of arms shot up from the ground. Powerful fingers, bony and rotten, wrapped around Riley’s ankles, keeping her in place.
“Mommy!” she cried out.
Her mother withered in agony. Something was wrong with the baby. Where was her father? Riley’s mother lifted her dress up, revealing the bulbous lump of white skin. Slits began to show themselves, blood spewing out of them like a dam bursting. Her mother continued to scream as the slits became tears. Tiny fingers emerged from the rips before the flesh was completely torn open, her undead brother crawling out.
Riley awoke screaming, kicking her arms and legs wildly. A hand was resting on her chest.
“Shush, child,” a soft male voice told her.
Confused, she opened her eyes and tried sitting up. She took a deep breath, and began coughing uncontrollably, each hack burning her raw and swollen throat.
“Lay still,” the voice said again. She was able to make out a man and a woman crouching on either side of her. A cool cloth pressed against her forehead, sending chills throughout her body. Her teeth began to chatter, but she quickly fell back into blackness.
A week since falling unconscious, she was awake. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was on a soft bed with fluffy blankets and cottony soft pillows. The last thing she remembered was walking into a dilapidated house and passing out. She was definitely somewhere else.
Sitting up, she looked around. She felt better, much better. Her throat no longer hurt and her head felt clear. She was in a bedroom. The walls were painted a bright white and were spotless. Framed pictures of horses and flowers hung from the walls. There was a dresser with a glass of clear liquid—probably water, a bowl and a small mauve-colored washcloth. A long mirror hung on the back of a closet door. She took a deep breath in through her nostrils. The air was fresh, not musty or mildewy like so many of the houses she’d been in. Grabbing a handful of comforter, she brought it to her face. The heavy blanket smelled clean, like the air. Had she gone to heaven?
Her stomach began rumbling, the odor of cooked eggs and potatoes entering her nose. She could see the images in her mind as if she were looking at them. Her mouth was watering, causing her to have to swallow—the salivary ducts working overtime.
Lifting the covers off and flinging them to the side, Riley slipped out of bed. The wood floor was cool; her body toasty from the layers of
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