Call Me Martin

By the time Sherman returned, wielding a can of bug spray, Rebecca had unraveled several feet of wire. She instructed him on how to sever the conduit with a rubber handled knife and stretch it out to form a crude antenna. While Sherman made his way to the attic, Rebecca went into a small utility closet and shut off the circuit breaker. The lights went out, leaving everyone in the gloom of drawn curtains and filtered light.

“What now?” Ari asked.

Rebecca held the radio in her hands.

“The re-chargeable batteries in here are only good for 30 minutes, so unless someone responds in that time frame, this piece of plastic and wire is no better than two cups and a string.”

“What’s the range?” Ari asked.

“Probably no more than 40 miles.”

Ari frowned.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Rebeca rubbed her forehead.

“If we can make a really high antenna with those aluminum fence posts, we can boost that range considerably.”

“But what then? We don’t even know where the fuck we are,” Ari said.

“Loramay, Iowa,” Rebecca said. “But it’s not on the map.”

“Wow,” Ari said sarcastically.

Rebecca ignored Ari’s remark and started up the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at Martin.

“I could use some help with holding the wire.”

Several minutes later, Rebecca and Martin stood by a ladder leading to the attic.

“How’s it going up there?” Rebecca asked.

“Scary,” Sherman replied. “Ain’t this the part where the black dude gets electrocuted?”

“The power is off,” Martin said.

Rebecca looked at Martin.

“Can you see with those sunglasses on?”

“I see great,” Martin said. “There’s a mole under the left side of your chin.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca said. “It’s actually a birth mark.”

Rebecca looked up through the open doorway to the attic.

“Did you push that conduit through?”

“All the way,” Sherman said. “Fuck!”

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

“Something touched my neck.”

“It’s the insulation,” Rebecca said. “There’s a lot of it up there.”

“Felt like something crawled on my leg. I get bitten, it’s on you!” Sherman exclaimed.

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“There aren’t any insects up there. I don’t know why but there’s not even a roach around. Did you hear any crickets last night when you came into town?”

“No,” Martin answered. “What about you?” Martin asked Rebecca. “You’ve been here seven years.”

Rebecca rested her hand on a rung of the latter. “I only saw insects here one time.” Rebecca paused. “When I tried to swim across the lake, and encountered those things in the water, I saw a trail of red ants going from the edge of the road, down the gravel shoreline and right into the water. It didn’t make sense, but a lot of things here don’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Martin said, looking up towards the attic. “Whatever pursued you in the lake, probably feeds on any form of organic life; insects, rats, birds and people. I guess human beings are not at the top of the food chain after all.”

Rebecca nodded. She looked quizzically at Martin.

“You don’t sound like a garbage man to me.”

“I never said I was a garbage man.”

“Hazmat spills?” Rebecca asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” Martin answered.

“How old are you?” Rebecca asked.

Martin took a moment and finally answered.

“21.”

“Man,” Rebecca said. “You sound a lot more intelligent than a guy who…”

“I read a lot,” Martin interjected.

“Come on!” Sherman said. “My hands are getting tired up here.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said. “I wanted to wait till 5 p.m. There’s a lot of highway incidents at that time, which means more responders on their radios.”

Martin looked at the radio in Rebecca’s hand.

“Try now. We have nothing to lose.”

Rebecca nodded and squeezed an orange button.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Officer Rebecca Kimmel, Chicago PD. Respond. Respond. Mayday.”

Rebeca released her grip on the button and turned up the volume of the receiver. There was nothing but static. She waited a minute and tried again and again and again. Nothing. The static sounded like rain. She finally shook her head and turned the radio off.

“Can I let go?” Sherman asked.

Rebecca opened her mouth to answer when her face turned to stone.

“No, no, no.”

“Is there a problem?” Martin asked.

The wire running up to the antenna suddenly tore free from the radio.

“Sherman!” Rebecca shouted.

Sherman screamed as a flap of wings roared above. The wire disappeared through the attic entrance. A narrow cone of sunlight spilled onto the floor.

Sherman continued to scream.

“Help me!”

Rebecca grabbed onto the ladder and puller herself up into the attic.

“Oh my God.”

A stream of blood wound its way down the latter, forming a puddle on the hard wood floor.

A pair of sneakers appeared on the top rung and cautiously stepped down.

“Grab him!” Rebecca shouted.

Martin reached out and helped Sherman down.

“Man!” Sherman exclaimed, clasping one hand with the other. Blood tricked out through the spaces in his fingers. “It cut my hand open.”

Rebecca followed Sherman down the latter.

“What the hell happened?” Ari asked, panting as he ran up the stairs and paused to catch his breath.

“Sherman got hurt.” Martin answered.

Rebecca looked Ari coldly in the eye.

“Those things took the antenna. They know what we were trying to do.”

Ari hurried over to Sherman who grimaced, his entire face distorted by pain. Blood oozed down his arms, soaking his shirt.

Rebecca drew close to the boy.

“Let me see it.”

“No,” he hissed. “It hurts.”

“I can’t help you, Sherman, unless I see it.”

Sherman pulled his right hand away to reveal a large gash in his left hand that ran down to his wrist.

Ari bolted into a bedroom and returned seconds later with a white towel. Rebecca grabbed the towel from him and wrapped it around Sherman’s hand.

The boy screamed and staggered as if he were going to pass out.

“Hold him!” Rebecca shouted.

Ari and Martin grabbed Sherman under his arms. The towel slowly changed color from white to red.

“He’s going to need stitches,” Rebecca said clinically. “And antibiotics.”

Sherman grimaced, his other hand trembling.

“I need to sit down.”

Rebecca motioned to Ari and Martin and slowly moved into a bedroom. They carefully lay Sherman down on the bed.

“It hurts like Hell,” Sherman said.

Rebecca stepped back.

“The only pain killer I have is the liquid kind. Four bottles in my duffle bag. You wanted to make Molotov Cocktails.”

Ari shook his head.

“How did this happen?”

Sherman opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.

“I was holding that conduit. Something landed on the roof and grabbed it. I tried to hold onto it but it was a lot stronger than me.”

Rebecca nodded.

“Last time you play tug-of-war with a creature from Hell.”

Sherman grimaced.

“It’s not hurting as much now.”

Rebecca looked at a towel wrapped around Sherman’s hand.

“The damage has been done.”

“He’s going to need another towel,” Ari said, looking towards the bathroom.

“Hold on,” Rebecca said, glancing at Martin and Ari. “Save it. We’re going to have to stop the bleeding. If not…”

“Don’t cut off my hand,” Sherman said.

“Nobody’s going to do that,” Ari said, squeezing Sherman’s shoulder. Ari looked up at Rebecca. “What do you have in mind?”

Rebecca put her hands on her hips.

“There’s a sewing kit in the room down the hall.”

“Hell, no,” Sherman mumbled, closing his eyes. “I’m okay right now.”

“No, you’re not,” Ari said. “If we don’t stop that bleeding soon, you’re not going to make it.”

“I don’t care. I ain’t gonna be sewn up like a fucking quilt.”

“I thought you wanted to be a Marine,” Ari said.

Sherman bit down on his lip. “I do.”

“Marines can take it,” Ari said. “Let Rebecca sew that hand up so you can do push-ups at Paris Island.”

“I already can do 75 at a time.”

Ari patted Sherman’s shoulder.

“Good for you.”

Rebecca nodded.

“I’ll need everyone’s help. “First thing, we need to boil water.”

“What for?” Sherman asked, raising his head. “I ain’t having a baby.”

Rebecca laughed.

“None of you men would last a minute.” Rebecca glanced at the doorway. “We need to sterilize everything.” She looked down at Sherman. “You like wine?”

Sherman shut his eyes.

“Yeah, with a date.”

“Consider this a date,” Rebecca said, turning to Ari. “One bottle.”

Ari hurried down the stairs to retrieve a wine bottle from Rebecca’s duffle bag. Little Amber stood with her arms folded.

“What are you all talking about?” Amber asked.

“Sherman got hurt.”

Amber tilted her head.

“What he do?”

Ari pulled out a bottle of Merlot and looked at Amber.

“He was trying to help us.”

“Did the monsters hurt him?” Amber asked, her eyes tearing up.

Ari got down on his knees and looked at Amber.

“They tried to, but Sherman was too tough. Now, we have to help him. Go look under the kitchen sink and see if you can find a pot.”

Amber nodded and ran toward the kitchen. She paused at the entrance and turned around.

“Where’s Martin?”

“He’s upstairs with Rebecca, helping Sherman. You stay down here and keep an eye things. Okay, Amber?”

“Yes, sir.”