The Gate 2: 13 Tales of Isolation and Despair

DEAD THINGS by Michael Crane

When he heard the doorbell, Dwight rubbed his face with his hands. A loud, disheartened sigh left his lips. He knew one of his least favorite people in the world would be at the door. He didn’t hate her, of course. He knew the woman had issues that were beyond her control, but after a few months of this it was becoming a tired trend.

After taking a breath, he finally went to the door and answered it. “Everything okay, Mrs. Hendrickson?”

The old woman wore a horrid pink robe decorated with blackbirds. She shook her wrinkly head while her mouth quivered. “Zombies, Mr. Jacobs! Zombies.”

He did his best to hold in a groan. For weeks Mrs. Hendrickson had been coming over, claiming zombies had invaded their cozy little town and was convinced it would only be a matter of time before they tracked her down. She even went into graphic detail about what zombies did to people, even though Dwight was quite aware of how they behaved due to many of the horror flicks he’d watched over the years. Of course, he didn’t believe her. She was probably off her meds again.

“Zombies?” Dwight asked. “Have you been watching scary movies again?”

Mrs. Hendrickson’s mouth hung agape and an offended gasp escaped her throat. She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you go making fun of me, sonny boy. I’m trying to tell you something important here. Zombies are invading our neighborhood!”

He took a quick peek outside and threw his hands up. “I don’t see anything, Mrs. Hendrickson. Maybe you were dreaming?”

“Fine,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Don’t believe me. Think I’m a wacko. I’m sure that’s what everyone thinks of me anyway.”

“Nobody thinks you’re a wacko,” Dwight said, although he damn well knew that was a lie. The whole neighborhood knew of Mrs. Hendrickson’s antics, though they never complained or confronted her about it. Everybody felt sorry for her after she lost her husband in a car accident two years ago. That was when she really started to go off the deep end. She would keep herself locked up in her house and do nothing but watch TV all day long. No wonder she came up with such outrageous stories.

Dwight began to rub his arms even though he wasn’t cold. “It’s getting late. If you see any zombies lurking about, you can come back and let me know.”

She waved him off, angrily shaking her head. “Whatever. I know you’re mocking me, but I’m gonna show you once and for all that there are zombies and I’m not off my rocker!” He watched her storm away while she continued to shake her head and mumble to herself. Dwight just stared in silence. He hoped she wouldn’t come back again, but he wasn’t that lucky of a guy. She always came back. After taking one last look outside, he closed the door.

“Was that Mrs. Hendrickson again?”

Dwight turned and saw his seven-year-old son, Jimmy, standing on the stairs. He wore his blue pajamas, his brown hair a feathery mess on the left side of his head.

“You should be in bed.”

“Is it true? Did she really see zombies?” Jimmy asked.

“No, she didn’t see any zombies.” Dwight ran his hand through his son’s hair and the two of them began to walk up the stairs. “You know she has problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“She’s not really right in the head, you know? I mean, she lost her husband and she’s a bit on the old side.” He cringed at his own words, knowing that he wasn’t the best when it came to explaining things to his son or giving fatherly speeches.

“Old people have problems?” Jimmy asked while Dwight tucked him in.

“Some of them do. When something really bad happened, or when they get old, they start to act like a child. I think it’s a little bit of both when it comes to Mrs. Hendrickson.”

One of Jimmy’s eyes became big. “She’s turning into a kid?”

Dwight chuckled and shook his head. “Not like that. In her head, she’s thinking more and more like a kid.”

“And that’s bad?”

“When you’re a grownup like her it is. There’s nothing to be afraid of. She won’t hurt you or anything. It’s just that she’s a little out of it and she makes up stories. It’s her mind playing tricks on her. When she tells these stories, she thinks they’re true, but they really aren’t.”

“So there’s no zombies?”

“Only in movies.” When he noticed that Jimmy’s eyes shrunk and a worried frown began to spread across his face, he asked, “What’s the matter? I’m sorry if she scared you, but it’s really nothing—”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it, then?”

Jimmy’s tiny nose crinkled a bit. “Mommy looked like a zombie sometimes.”

A chill ran through Dwight. His shoulders twitched at the thought of Sammie. The frail and sickly image of her burned into his mind, and no matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t shake it away. He could never get her out of his head, but the days that passed without a mention of her were considered good days. There was no denying that his son was right about such a comparison. By the end of their marriage she had transformed into a gaunt shell of what she used to be, her skin pale as bones, those horrible, rotting teeth. She wasn’t the same woman he had fallen in love with, that was for sure.

“Enough zombie talk,” Dwight said. He gave Jimmy a soft kiss on his forehead and pinched his right cheek while saying goodnight. He left the bedroom, leaving the door open a crack. He stood outside of Jimmy’s room for several minutes, motionless.

Sammie had become a meth addict. While Dwight never figured out what triggered it, he had always suspected that it was because she wasn’t ready to be a mother. It was like a part of her life was over and she did everything she could to hold onto that part, never growing up or accepting any responsibility. Sure, she enjoyed being a mother at first, but her depression started when Jimmy was a year old. She would slump in a chair with her hands over her face, crying, ignoring her son’s pleas. Dwight had suggested they take a vacation, saying how his father always looked forward to watching over Jimmy while they were away. The offer never seemed to appeal to her. That’s when he thought maybe he was the problem.

She started going out regularly with friends not too long after that. As soon as Dwight would step into the house, before even saying, “I’m home,” she would rush out the door, all dressed up with gallons of makeup on her face. She wouldn’t come home until late in the morning the next day. Dwight was pretty sure she’d cheated on him, but he never confronted her. In the end he just wanted to be there for Jimmy, but it tore him apart having the youngster ask him every night where his mommy was.

“She went out,” he’d tell him.

That’s when Jimmy would frown and say, “Mommy goes out a lot.”

He didn’t know what else to say. At first he figured Sammie was burnt out on motherhood and needed to escape for a while. He told himself that it was a phase and she’d snap out of it. If he pressed her on the issue or got mad, it’d only make things worse. He figured that if he just let her do as she pleased, she’d get bored and drop the act.

Dwight could’ve never imagined that it would get as bad as it did. When she started rapidly losing weight, that’s when he knew that something was up. She wasn’t the same person anymore, constantly indifferent to everything. Whenever Dwight asked her a question, she’d mumble an unintelligible reply. She stayed away from the house more and more, even when he was at work. It got to a point where Dwight would have to call his father and ask him to watch Jimmy during the day.

“Son, you know your wife’s got a serious problem,” his father said at one point.

Dwight had told him everything was under control. His father agreed to look after Jimmy while he was at work. Dwight wasn’t exactly pleased that it had to happen that way, but he didn’t know what else could be done.

When Dwight came home from work one night, his father sat him down at the table so they could have a talk. Dwight knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation, but he had nowhere else he could go, and he knew that his father wouldn’t leave until he said what he needed to say.

“You’ve got to face that fact that your wife has a problem, Dwight. You can’t keep on denying it.”

“Who’s denying it? I know things aren’t good.”

“But you’re not doing anything about it.”

Dwight threw his hands in the air. “Dad, what the hell am I supposed to do? Huh? Sammie is an adult, and I can’t ground her for acting out.”

“This goes beyond acting out, Son.”

“She’ll snap out of it.”

“She’s a mother, for chrissakes!”

“I know what she is.”

“Clearly you don’t. Last time I saw her, she looked like a walking corpse. And her teeth!”

“Dad…”

“You know she has a drug problem. There’s not much else that can cause a body to change like that.”

Dwight rubbed his face into his hands. His eyes began to water, but he did his damndest to fight back the tears. Yes, he knew what was going on with Sammie. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Maybe he didn’t want to face it because he felt responsible. He should’ve stopped it long before it got so out of hand, but he really believed that Sammie would get better on her own. Anything was better than Sammie leaving them.

“Dad,” he started, “when you and Mom had problems, you tried to talk it out with her. And you two split.”

“We had problems, but nothing like what you’re dealing with. And even though we split, we never stopped being your parents, now did we? You can’t sit there and be passive just because you’re afraid Sammie is going to walk out on you.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“She’s not Sammie, Dwight. She’s…something else. The woman you loved is gone, but there’s a way to get her back. She’s gotta get clean. Seek treatment. Threaten to cut her off from you and Jimmy.”

“And if she walks?”

His father shrugged. “Then that’s what it’s gotta be.”

He knew his father was right—he always was—but that didn’t make the issue any easier on him. He couldn’t envision a life without Sammie, even if she was different. Still, he knew things had to change for the better soon. Jimmy had started asking him questions about her appearance. He might’ve been little, but he was no dummy. Dwight couldn’t bring himself to tell his son the truth. Something had to be done.

On an evening when Sammie walked into the house well past midnight, Dwight was waiting for her in the living room. He told her they needed to talk. Her eyes were half-closed and her blond hair looked like dried hay.

“What about?” she asked, emotionless.

“You’ve got a problem.”

She brought her boney finger to her nose and gave a loud snort. “Yeah? Took you long enough to notice.”

“I’ve known for a while. I just thought you were going through some weird phase, that you’d snap out of it.”

“There’s nothing to snap out of.”

“I mean, I know you’re unhappy,” he continued. “I thought if I gave you some space things would somehow go back to normal. I just didn’t think you’d…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His guilt pounded him in his gut. He closed his eyes and counted to three, willing himself to be strong.

“You need help,” Dwight finally said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Seriously, I want you to check into rehab.”

Sammie stared at him with dead eyes. She sniffled loudly and rubbed her jaw. “Yeah? What if I don’t want to go?”

“If you won’t go, then you can’t be around Jimmy and me anymore.”

“And you’re serious?”

Dwight nodded.

She continued to stare at him, no emotion to be found on her pale face. She shrugged her bone-thin shoulders. “I want a divorce,” was all she said to him before she left the house. She never looked back or said goodbye.

Dwight sat in his chair, drinking a beer. The memory of Sammie left a bitter taste in his mouth. There were times he wondered what she was up to, but he knew she was probably dead somewhere. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and it hurt, but it was probably the truth. He didn’t wish it and he certainly didn’t hate her, but he was angry that she had abandoned them. He was also angry with himself for not doing anything sooner.

During the divorce, Sammie didn’t want money. She didn’t even want to fight for custody or visitation rights. She simply wanted out. Jimmy took it hard at first, but he was a bright kid. He knew that Mommy wasn’t herself and needed help. For a while he would ask Dwight if he thought she would get better and come back. He didn’t lie and tell him she would, nor did he tell him the truth and say she wouldn’t. He simply said he didn’t know.

Those questions came with less and less frequency each passing day.

Even though she was gone, Sammie was never that far from his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried to forget her, there she was. Whenever he thought of her, he’d put the blame on himself. He knew he should’ve tried harder. He should’ve confronted her at the first sign of a problem, but that’s how life goes. Even when the warning signs are there, sometimes people are still afraid to fess up.

A loud banging at the front door startled him. Dwight jumped up from his chair, nearly dropping his beer. “Jesus!” he moaned. It was a violent chain of thuds, and in between each of them he heard a whiney voice call out his name.

“Oh God,” he said. “Not this again.”

He wiped the beer from his lips and set the can down. At the door he found an excited Mrs. Hendrickson.

“Really? I have no time for this,” he groaned.

“I’ve found them!”

“Found what?”

“Zombies! I found the bastards! I said I would, and you told me to come back if I did!”

Another exhausted moan. Dwight brought his hands to his face. “Mrs. Hendrickson, it’s really, really late.” He looked back up at her with pleading eyes. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest, yeah? I’m sure you’ll forget all of this zombie business in the morning.”

“Nonsense!” she said, stomping her foot into the ground. “I have to show you! Everybody in this godforsaken neighborhood thinks I’m losing my mind, but I ain’t losing a damned thing! You have to come and see for yourself!”

Dwight heard footsteps coming down the stairs. “Daddy?”

“It’s okay Jimmy,” he said. “Go on back to bed.” He looked at Mrs. Hendrickson and shook his head. “I can’t go anywhere right now. Nobody’s here to keep an eye on Jimmy.”

“Bring him with you!” She smiled at Jimmy. “How would you like to see some zombies, young lad?”

“Daddy says they don’t exist.”

“Hogwash! Even more reason you should come with me right now. You need your eyes opened, the both of you!”

Dwight rubbed his temples and shook his head once more. A sigh of defeat escaped his lips at the realization that Mrs. Hendrickson was adamant about them going with her and wouldn’t leave until they agreed. At least it wasn’t a school night. Maybe it was better they went with her so he could keep a close eye on her. The last thing Dwight needed was the thought of Mrs. Hendrickson attacking some homeless guy while screaming, “Zombie! Zombie!”

“Fine, we’ll go and check it out.” He looked at Jimmy. “You okay with going?

Jimmy nodded, slowly.

“It’ll be okay,” Dwight told him. “Go get your coat and shoes.”

“And baseball bats!” Mrs. Hendrickson suggested.

Dwight shook his head. “No bats.”

“Fine, but don’t’ come cryin’ to me when a zombie is munching on your skull.”

Another sigh, and Dwight told her to wait while they got ready. When he turned he saw Jimmy wearing his red Mighty Power Fighters jacket. The boy shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet.

“Don’t worry,” Dwight said. “We’re not going to see any zombies, but we’re going with Mrs. Hendrickson so she doesn’t do anything foolish.”

“I’m scared.”

“There’s no need.” He looked at the jacket and smiled. “Be brave, like a Mighty Power Fighter. Zombies wouldn’t scare them, now would they?”

A grin spread across Jimmy’s little face. “Nothing scares the Mighty Power Fighters.”

Dwight laughed and rubbed Jimmy’s hair. “Of course not. They’re fearless, just like you.”

When they were ready, Dwight opened the door and the two of them followed Mrs. Hendrickson as she marched through the neighborhood like a proud general going to war. Dwight walked with his hands in his pockets while randomly mumbling to himself under his breath. Jimmy asked him a few times what he was saying, but he just shook him off.

“You guys better keep up!” Mrs. Hendrickson said.

Dwight grumbled and shook his head.

“Dad, do you really think we’ll see zombies?”

He didn’t answer, patting Jimmy on the shoulder and giving him a smile, saying that everything was going to be okay without words.

They continued to walk for blocks while the sky above grew dark. It seemed like they were the only ones out, which was kind of eerie. It had all of the right ingredients for a classic horror movie—a crazed woman leading a father and son through an abandoned neighborhood to face the terror lurking somewhere in the shadows. Were there really zombies? Could that be possible? Dwight shook his head and silently scolded himself for even considering such a ludicrous thought. They were only humoring Mrs. Hendrickson and keeping an eye on her.

They finally came to a halt when Mrs. Hendrickson pointed to the neighborhood park in front of them. “There! They’re over there!”

It took Dwight a moment to figure out what she was pointing at, and then he saw the two teenagers sitting on swings. They were pale and skinny, but they certainly weren’t zombies… though they did appear to be a bit out of sorts. The one on the right gazed up at the sky while dragging his feet along the gravel. The boy on the left stared down at the ground, wiping his nose every now and then with his sleeve. Their resemblance to Sammie hit him almost instantly, and at that point he wished they really were zombies. The truth of it was worse. He felt something wrap around him, and when he looked down he saw that it was Jimmy hugging him from behind.

Mrs. Hendrickson placed her bony hands around her mouth, forming a cup. “We know what you are! You ain’t fooling us for a second! You go away now, you no good zombies! You won’t be eating my brains tonight, that’s for damn sure!”

The two stoned teenagers slowly looked up and blinked, then began to laugh hysterically. One of the kids even slid out of his swing and fell to the ground, holding his knees, saliva dripping from his mouth with each guffaw. The other covered his eyes, drool clinging to his lips as he snickered.

Dwight tapped Mrs. Hendrickson on the shoulder. “I think it’s time that we go now.”

“Go? I told you they’re zombies! We have to do something!”

“They’re not going to hurt anybody tonight. Really, we need to leave.” He took her by the hand and started to walk away from the park, with Jimmy following. Mrs. Hendrickson protested, but Dwight assured her that it would be okay and that he would call somebody when he got home. She wouldn’t give up on the zombie angle, but Dwight was too drained to explain what they really were.

When they returned, Dwight told Jimmy to go on inside while he took Mrs. Hendrickson back to her house.

“I can find my own damn house, thank you very much,” she spat.

“Humor me, and let me walk you home.”

Along the way, Mrs. Hendrickson kept going on about how they needed to do something before the zombies attacked the neighborhood, and again Dwight told her that he would take care of it. She needed to go home where it was safe, he explained. He kept repeating this all the way to her house. When she finally went inside he headed home, certain she would stay put.

He stood in his darkened living room, staring out the window as if the trees outside would offer some sort of an answer. He didn’t know what to do. He supposed he should call the police and let them know that drugged-out teens were hanging around the neighborhood. He also supposed he should figure out what to do about Mrs. Hendrickson, although he didn’t know any of her relatives that he could call. Her delusions were becoming worse, and he was positive the day would come when she’d either hurt herself or someone else.

Dwight didn’t do anything but stand in a silent trance.

“Dad,” he heard Jimmy say. He didn’t turn around. Even when his son was standing right by his side, he didn’t move. “Dad, are they really zombies?”

“I guess in a way they are,” Dwight whispered. He wished they never followed Mrs. Hendrickson to that godforsaken park. It brought back too many bad memories and feelings.

Jimmy hugged him. “They’re nothing but dead things, Dad. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from them.”

Dwight smiled for the first time that night. A feeling washed over him, one he wished would never disappear.

Michael Crane is the sick and twisted author of Lessons and Other Morbid Drabbles, In Decline (stories), and A Gnome Problem (a novelette). He went to Columbia College Chicago where he earned a BA in Fiction Writing. He currently lives in Illinois where he continues to write and drink way too many Red Bulls.