Collection (18 page)

Mattie couldn’t move.
 
She was aware of others coming up the driveway, out of the corn, all moving toward the house.
 
She wanted to scream.
 
She wanted to drive.
 
She wanted to head north, to take Nathan and just go.
 
She’d promised her father.
 
She’d promised Nathan.

She’d promised Nathan.

Something hard hit the rear window, and Mattie looked back.
 
One of them was behind her, slamming his head against the glass.
 
Mattie put the Jeep in reverse and backed up fast, into the garage.
 
He held on, and when they hit the wall, a wet smack covered the window.

Mattie looked back.
 
The glass was coated with a slow, black ooze.
 
Through it, in the dimmed red glow of the taillights, the man slumped against the jeep.
 

Mattie grabbed the gun and got out.
 
She inched her way along the wall toward the door, never taking her eyes off the man.
 
When she got closer, the man’s head rolled back, his eyes focused on her.
 

She stared at him, and for a moment neither of them moved.
 
Then the man opened his mouth and screamed.
 
The sound started slow, building, growing louder, reminding her of the tornado sirens that sounded in the spring, sending everyone underground.

Mattie looked up, toward the driveway.
 
The others were getting closer, and she reached for the doorknob and went inside.
 
When she closed the door behind her, the screaming stopped.
 

Everything was quiet.

She made sure the door was locked, then lifted the gun and walked through the kitchen toward the front of the house.
 
There was a low scraping noise coming from outside, and she tried to block out the sound.

When she got to the entryway, Mattie looked up at the bedroom door.
 
It was half open, and as she climbed the stairs she watched for movement in the room.
 
There was nothing.
 
Her legs felt weak, and she balanced herself against the railing as she went.
 
When she reached the top, Mattie held the gun against her shoulder and stepped inside.
 

The bed was empty, and for a moment she felt certain Nathan was behind her.
 
She backed up, lost her footing, and came down hard on the floor.
 
The gun fired into the ceiling, and dust fell in shards around her.
 
Mattie slid back against the wall, pushing herself to her feet.
 

As she stood, she saw him on the other side of the room, staring at her, only his eyes visible over the top of the mattress.
 
Downstairs, she heard glass break, and she knew they were inside the house.
 
Mattie ignored the sound and walked slowly around the bed toward Nathan.
 
When she got closer, her breath caught in her throat.
 

She didn’t recognize him.
 

Nathan’s face was the color of tar and covered with flies.
 
His skin leaked dark fluid, which ran down his neck and swelled into a stain on his shirt.
 
The smell was terrible.
 
His eyes were cataract white, and she wondered if he could see her.
 
She took a step forward.
 
His eyes followed her movement.

“Oh, Nathan.”
 
She was moaning, and the sound hung in her chest.
 

Nathan leaned forward, and she jumped away.
 
He stopped, watched her for a moment, then leaned back against the wall.

Mattie let herself slide to the floor across from him.
 
She held the gun between her knees and stared into the barrel.
 
She thought about her father, about Nathan, about the promise to drive north if it came to that.
 
She tried to imagine what they might’ve found up there, then smiled and traced the trigger of the rifle with her toe.
  

If it came to that.

From the hallway, she heard the familiar creak of footsteps on the stairs.
 
They were close now, and Mattie pushed herself to her feet.
 
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand then lifted the gun to her shoulder.
 
Nathan sat unmoving, his blond hair dripping down his forehead.

Mattie stood over him.
 
“I’m so sorry, Nathan,” she said.
 
The muscles in her arms burned under the weight of the gun.
 
Outside, the sun was coming up orange, and the light leaked through the curtains into the room.
 

She closed her eyes, and all she could hear was the grinding buzz of the flies.
 
They surrounded her, unrelenting and constant.
 
The sound pushed through everything until it was all that was left.
 
After a moment, she looked up.
 
Nathan was watching her.

They were all watching.

Mattie took a deep breath and began to count.
 

One…

Afterword

“A Sharp White Light” was originally published in
Futures Mystery Anthology Magazine
in 2005.
 
This is the last short story I wrote and the only straightforward mystery I’ve ever done.
 
When I started working on it, I wanted to write something longer than anything I’d written before, and doing that presented an entirely new set of challenges.
 
At the time, most of my stories clocked in at around 3000 words.
 
When I finished “A Sharp White Light,” it was almost four times that length, and for the first time I saw how I could expand a story line to fit multiple scenes and characters.
 
It was the boost of confidence I needed to start seriously considering working on a novel.
 
This story also turned out to be a testing ground for characters and plot ideas that I eventually used in later books.
 

“Rivers” was the only short story I wrote that was never published.
 
It came close a few times, but something about children killing children didn’t sit well with editors (go figure).
 
I liked the basic idea behind the story, and I’ve since turned it into a novella.
 
It’s not quite ready to see the light of day, but it’s coming.

“The Walls Around Us” was written in 2002 and originally published in
The Seattle Review
in 2004.
 
It’s also the first real short story I ever wrote.
 
Before “Walls,” I was mostly writing fragments of scenes and dialog and calling them stories even though they weren’t.
 
This was the first piece I wrote that felt complete.
 
This was also the first story that surprised me.
 
The homage to Poe was accidental, and the ending presented itself while I was writing.
 
The surprise of seeing how the story was about to unfold was something I’ve never forgotten, and it remains one of the ongoing joys of writing.

“To Lay Down With Animals” was the last short story I wrote in 2005 and was originally published in
Pulp Pusher
in 2007.
 
This is one of the darker stories I’ve written, and I had a hard time finding a publisher for this one in the US.
 
One editor sent a rejection that can only be described as hate mail.
 
Luckily, the story found its way overseas and was picked up by the talented Tony Black for his noir-zine.
 
Unfortunately, like so many short fiction markets,
Pulp Pusher
no longer exists.

“Folded Blue” started life as a writing exercise.
 
When I’m stuck, or can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence, I’ll sit down and write a scene with two characters.
 
I won’t think about where it’s going or try to influence the story in any way.
 
Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.
 
In this case, it turned into something I was not expecting.
 
I never tried to publish “Folded Blue” until this year when it was published in a wonderful new noir-zine called
Shotgun Honey
.
  

“The Firebird” was originally published in
The Edge: An Anthology of Crime Fiction
in 2005.
 
It was one of my early attempts at crime fiction, and it turned out much more whimsical than I’d intended.
 
Something about a stoner main character melting down in the desert heat struck me as funny, and the story developed all on its own.

“A Season of Sleep” was originally published in the zombie anthology,
COLD FLESH
, in 2003.
 
It has been reprinted several times in other magazines and anthologies, and it remains one of my favorites.
 
I started the story thinking it was going to be about a young girl who goes crazy and starts shooting her neighbors, but it quickly turned into something different.
 
Lucky for me, I wrote it right as the current zombie craze was kicking into gear, and it sold right away.
 

About the Author

JOHN RECTOR
is the author of the novels
Already Gone
,
The Cold Kiss
(optioned for a feature film now in development), and
The Grove
.
 
His short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and won several awards including the Porterhouse prize.
 
He lives in Omaha, Nebraska with his family.