Read Online Whispers From The Dark by Bryan Hall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bryan Hall
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school he realized he was better off alone anyways.
On good days the idiots amused Cody, on bad days they pissed him off. To be in a big city surrounded by millions of them…that was an unimaginable horror far worse than what he was now dealing with.
He poured a five gallon jug of diesel fuel onto the bodies, hoping that would be enough. Before the power had died Cody had spent a full day rounding up every gas jug he could find in the town, from Wal-Mart to his own garage, and then filling each one with gas from the BP and Shell stations’ pumps. He used the house across the street from the one he was staying as his fuel depot, every room of it filled with jugs. He’d amassed several hundred gallons, and knew he could siphon more from the vehicles around town. But he still hated to use more than he needed to, especially for something like this.
The bodies erupted into an inferno the instant Cody threw the match onto the pile.
Green and blue flames assaulted the cold winter air, reaching fifty feet into the air.
Black smoke rolled from the fire, so thick that it dimmed the day. It stunk worse than the bodies themselves, nearly unbearable even with the respirator on.
Gagging, Cody climbed into the truck and backed it down Devin’s driveway, stopping at its end to keep an eye on the flames. The last thing he needed was for the fire to get out of control and engulf the town.
Cody watched with strange fascination as the black smoke crept towards Devin’s horses, sending them stampeding in the opposite direction. They ran as if they were terrified of the cloud. It filled the valley and seemed to hang like a curtain in the air, rising so slowly it was barely noticeable.
He slipped off the respirator and was assaulted by the smell. The stench of the bodies clung to his clothes and sat in the back of his throat like an uninvited guest. Every time he swallowed he could taste the stink of them.
By the time the bodies were reduced to ash and the flames only a memory, the smell had dissipated some. It was still there when he swallowed, but it was nothing a few whiskey and cokes couldn’t take care of.
Glancing up towards the thick black smoke that hung like a hellish curtain in the Appalachian sky, Cody spat onto the driveway and cranked the truck.
As he drove toward home a smile danced on the corners of his lips. The stench was part of the price for being the last man on earth, he supposed. And it was a very, very small price to pay, considering his new station in life.
After all, Cody Springer was king of the entire motherfucking world.
***
It happened on Thanksgiving – really the night before, but who was around to keep track? Cody had greeting the holiday with a beer and a slice of leftover Domino's and from there his morning unfolded just like the last four Thanksgivings. His father had died when he was thirteen – lung cancer, bitch of a way to go – and he'd always had Thanksgiving dinner with his mother thereafter and on Christmas too. But once she'd died four years earlier, his holiday plans had suddenly opened up a good bit.
He'd sold the old house a month after he'd put her in the ground. The walls held too many memories of a childhood that hadn't been as terrible as it could have been, but memories he preferred not to think of all the same. Nostalgia had never been a part of Cody's psyche, and the money from the house was much more enticing than spending the next decade waxing sentimental about people he'd never see again. He'd loved them both – more than he suspected he'd ever love anyone. But missing them wouldn't bring them back, would it? Better to rent out the tiny one bedroom place six miles from his childhood home than wallow in nostalgia.
Just like Cody, Thanksgiving morning on the local cable station started the same as it had for the last decade – with the annual Swayze Crazy
On good days the idiots amused Cody, on bad days they pissed him off. To be in a big city surrounded by millions of them…that was an unimaginable horror far worse than what he was now dealing with.
He poured a five gallon jug of diesel fuel onto the bodies, hoping that would be enough. Before the power had died Cody had spent a full day rounding up every gas jug he could find in the town, from Wal-Mart to his own garage, and then filling each one with gas from the BP and Shell stations’ pumps. He used the house across the street from the one he was staying as his fuel depot, every room of it filled with jugs. He’d amassed several hundred gallons, and knew he could siphon more from the vehicles around town. But he still hated to use more than he needed to, especially for something like this.
The bodies erupted into an inferno the instant Cody threw the match onto the pile.
Green and blue flames assaulted the cold winter air, reaching fifty feet into the air.
Black smoke rolled from the fire, so thick that it dimmed the day. It stunk worse than the bodies themselves, nearly unbearable even with the respirator on.
Gagging, Cody climbed into the truck and backed it down Devin’s driveway, stopping at its end to keep an eye on the flames. The last thing he needed was for the fire to get out of control and engulf the town.
Cody watched with strange fascination as the black smoke crept towards Devin’s horses, sending them stampeding in the opposite direction. They ran as if they were terrified of the cloud. It filled the valley and seemed to hang like a curtain in the air, rising so slowly it was barely noticeable.
He slipped off the respirator and was assaulted by the smell. The stench of the bodies clung to his clothes and sat in the back of his throat like an uninvited guest. Every time he swallowed he could taste the stink of them.
By the time the bodies were reduced to ash and the flames only a memory, the smell had dissipated some. It was still there when he swallowed, but it was nothing a few whiskey and cokes couldn’t take care of.
Glancing up towards the thick black smoke that hung like a hellish curtain in the Appalachian sky, Cody spat onto the driveway and cranked the truck.
As he drove toward home a smile danced on the corners of his lips. The stench was part of the price for being the last man on earth, he supposed. And it was a very, very small price to pay, considering his new station in life.
After all, Cody Springer was king of the entire motherfucking world.
***
It happened on Thanksgiving – really the night before, but who was around to keep track? Cody had greeting the holiday with a beer and a slice of leftover Domino's and from there his morning unfolded just like the last four Thanksgivings. His father had died when he was thirteen – lung cancer, bitch of a way to go – and he'd always had Thanksgiving dinner with his mother thereafter and on Christmas too. But once she'd died four years earlier, his holiday plans had suddenly opened up a good bit.
He'd sold the old house a month after he'd put her in the ground. The walls held too many memories of a childhood that hadn't been as terrible as it could have been, but memories he preferred not to think of all the same. Nostalgia had never been a part of Cody's psyche, and the money from the house was much more enticing than spending the next decade waxing sentimental about people he'd never see again. He'd loved them both – more than he suspected he'd ever love anyone. But missing them wouldn't bring them back, would it? Better to rent out the tiny one bedroom place six miles from his childhood home than wallow in nostalgia.
Just like Cody, Thanksgiving morning on the local cable station started the same as it had for the last decade – with the annual Swayze Crazy
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