Page 1 of Creepy
1
Dead End read the neonyellow street sign next to my mailbox.I peeled down the mouth of the red metal rectangle just like I did every morning, bending to peer inside only to find nothing but a dark emptiness that seemed to go on for eternity.Shutting it quickly, I shook off the chill that zapped me, rubbing my arms for good measure.
Taking a deep breath of sweet Louisiana air, I whirled around to walk the half-mile back to the house.Starting each morning with a brisk walk was what I’d always done and would probably always do.My Papa called me a creature of habit when he was alive.When I reached the wraparound porch, I spotted the rising sun plants he’d tended with such care.My eyes flitted from them to all the watering and yard work I needed to do later when the heat let up.Currently, a symphony of chirps and buzzes filled the air.The bugs were out in force, meaning it would only get hotter.
Two white porch swings hung longways on either side of the front door and beside them stood two huge, goblet-shaped pots.Colorful, nameless blooms sprouted, trailing down their sides to cover the bases.Along our yellow creole cottage with its drab avocado shutters, where the deck draped around the corners were stylish white benches and glass-topped tables, each with their own accompanying garden.My favorites, the maypop passion flowers, lined the white trellises with purple on each corner.All my Papa’s doing.
“If heaven were a porch,” he’d always say.
The coffee pot chirped, inviting me inside.I passed our cozy living room with its rose-colored walls and hard walnut floors to the bright white farmhouse kitchen littered with blue and white porcelain and copper pots hanging.Also, thanks to my Papa.Soon, I sipped the elixir of life from a Garfield mug as old as the earth.I was starting to like my coffee black, although I used to prefer it any other way.Flipping through last year’s Cosmo, smelling the perfumes still folded away, I knew my leisure time was about up.The days were getting shorter, after all.
I read my horoscope.
Leo, this will be your year to find true love.Typically, you pounce too fast.You have no problem falling in love.Nonetheless, this year you will finally stay in love.Known for longevity, luck is always on your side, but self-awareness of health has never been more important.Mindfulness is key.Inheritance is on the horizon, either goods or knowledge.This year throw traditional roles out the window.Lioness, lead your own pride.
I laughed out loud, somewhat startling myself.If only it ALL had come true.
I finished the coffee and headed to my bedroom, the next room over since our shotgun house had no halls.Well, the chamber with its muted walls, wicker furniture, and a dark, four-poster bed belonged to me now since I’d buried my Papa.My inheritance, if you will.Though, other than some clothes, I hadn’t moved a lick of my stuff from my former attic room.I had managed to pack most of Papa’s belongings and stow them away.Truth be told, I couldn’t bear to look at them.I’d even stripped his walls of crosses and other religious paraphernalia since praying had done him little good.Although, when the sun hit exactly right, their pale stained outlines like a ghost returned.
Otherwise sparse, the room was a clean slate, a new beginning.
Dressing in the full-length, free-standing mirror, I’d just borrowed from Mrs.Dean’s house, I wouldn’t cry for my Papa.Instead, I decided my long ginger hair needed a trim.I grabbed the scissors and started cutting, not caring if I cut straight.Shaking it out, I frowned that it wasn’t at all even.Running the strands between my fingers, I cut more carefully, trying to level it up.I nicked my finger in the process but kept cutting, the blood, darkening the ends on one side.Papa told me many times, it was scientifically proven, redheads had a higher tolerance to pain.I sucked on the cut before wrapping my finger in a bandage.
Even or not, it didn’t matter.My hair hung in big waves, neither curly nor straight enough for my taste, but fashionable nowadays.Well, it had been, last I knew.Regardless, I reached up to pull it back into a high ponytail.At twenty-five, I probably looked as good as I was ever going to.Always too skinny growing up, my metabolism had finally slipped, giving me more curves.Not to mention the fact, my daily routine earned me definition in all the right places, toned abs and arms plus a round, perky bootie.More than that, my naturally pale, freckled skin had finally tanned.I never thought a ginger like me could pull off the look, but here I was, hot for once.A cruel joke.Hot after all, but utterly alone with no hope of ever meeting a soul in this town.
Slipping into the most expensive leggings one could own and a matching tank in shades of teal green, I put on some even more expensive lip gloss.Even before, I believed nothing should go to waste.As for makeup, a little on the lashes was all my sensitive skin could handle.
Grabbing my backpack, I locked up the house and climbed into my brother’s pickup, a Ford F-150 with a custom paint job, orange with black stripes.My brother Joey had moved first to Chicago, then finally to Indiana around five years ago, leaving his truck and any reminders of his childhood behind, including me.I was thankful for his truck these days.Painted our high school’s colors, I understood him moving on, but me...Well, it wasn’t fair for me to feel Joey abandoned me.Most kids dreamed of getting out of this town.
Like it was pulling my leg, the Beast stalled for a moment before it started, reminding me of Joey, the big prankster.Soon, I’d have to replace the hideous truck but not today.A smile filled my face, thinking of my brother.With him being two years older, we weren’t, but we could pass as twins with his hair color, eyes, and nose matching mine completely.Humming a tune, I switched on the radio with the knob.The clock read 10:15 am.I turned the static down all the way and kept humming.My first stop was the Piggly Wiggly to stock up on some canned goods and paper products.They were getting low on everything.Afterward, I unloaded my buggy into the truck bed and put my cart away like the good citizen I was.
Back in the cabin, I bit into the cellophane and tore open a Twinkie with my teeth.Holding the sticky bun between my lips, I unfolded my map to find a street I hadn’t marked off yet.There weren’t many left.I found one just as I finished my breakfast.
Second stop, Mallard Avenue.I parked the Beast at the head of the boulevard.This was a good block, a newer cul-de-sac filled with big two-story houses with brick facades.They all circled each other as if they were hiding their vinyl-sided rear ends.About as good as you could get in Creepy.Hopping out of the truck, I pulled my backpack along and slipped it on.Clutching two gas cans I’d plucked from the truck bed, I made a beeline to the closest driveway, the one with two black Chevy Suburbans sitting in it.
“Who needs two?”I thought as I tugged the length of the hose from my backpack without even taking it off.“You’re practically a pro at this now,” I told myself.
Puckering my lips, I prepared myself mentally before I took the plunge.“Duck faces used to be for Instagram, now look at you.”Sucking, I siphon the gas from the first SUV.For a fleeting moment, lightheaded, I imagined the kind of people who had abandoned them.Boy, did their busy and abundant lives get turned upside down.Then again, maybe they were FBI agents for all I knew, ones who married each other.Awe sweet.Visions of Mulder and Scully ran through my head.By the time I’d drained the second vehicle, they had two redheaded kids.
I copped a squat for a bit, clearing my head.Then, before heading to the next house, I traded out the gas cans for my pry bar and went for the side door leading to the garage.With a few strategic jerks, I made quick work of the door and propped it open, letting light stream in.Inside, another car sat parked.Geezus.I thought about leaving the gas in the vintage white Chevy Camaro Iroc Z28 convertible, but I couldn’t drive two vehicles home by my lonesome.Besides, Joey would kill me if anything happened to his butt ugly truck.I took out my map and my red pen and marked the spot of this treasure to come back to later.
Mulling it over some more, I searched the wall for keys and spotted a Camaro keychain.Bingo.The car roared to life and had a full tank of gas.Checking myself out in the mirror, I tried on the Ray-Bans under the dash.I put the roof down and raised it again.I’d always fancied a convertible, but it was the red leather interior that sold me.Resting back in the seat, I knew this was the car I wanted to own.“I’ll take it,” I said to the dimly lit garage.Pocketing the keys, I made a mental note of what I’d have to do to get this baby home.I’d have to put a bit of gas back into the SUVs in the driveway and move them.Luckily, their keys were hanging in the garage too.But I’d have to disconnect the garage opener so I could open the door.
Ugh.
My stomach rumbled.Maybe tomorrow.I raided the garage fridge to find canned Pepsi, mineral water, and craft beer.I cracked open one of the hot IPAs to wash the taste of gasoline from my lips.The tastes similar, it did the trick.I crumbled the can and tossed it in the recycling, knowing it was useless, but I was no litterbug.Combing the garage’s shelves for tools and other necessities, I found a black, steel baseball bat.Tucking it into my pack, I didn’t dare go further into the house.I had no idea what, or rather who, I’d find inside.
Not to worry though, zombies didn’t actually know how doorknobs worked.
Repeating the same for five more houses, I didn’t find much at all.Not even a drop of gas.Maybe I’d gotten this street before but missed the first house so didn’t mark it off, I thought.Surely, I would’ve remembered this street.Walking back to the truck, I about melted in the heat.I wouldn’t think more of it.I ventured onto the next street on my map to fill my gas cans and my brother’s truck bed with loot.
My stomach gurgled again as I drove back to town if you could call it a town.The welcome sign in Creepy boasted a population of 565 people, but I never believed it, even before.Passing the courthouse, the largest building in town, red, brick, and impressive, you’d think Creepy, the parish seat was once bustling, but the empty streets didn’t look much different than normal.Downtowns were dying long before everyone started dying.I steered down the alley in-between Zed’s Hair Voodoo and Mrs.Dean’s Dirty Rice, parking in the back.Before I entered the back door of Miss Dean’s, I filled the generator that kept the cooler and walk-in freezer running.Once inside, I got to work flipping on the lights and more importantly, firing up the grill and fryers.Waiting for them to warm up, I stepped inside the freezer, relishing the cool air, and found two chicken planks, grabbed a handful of French fries and a piece of Texas toast.Thankfully, Mrs.Dean had stocked up before she left town.I’d added to her freezer’s collection whatever I could find before the power went out.Stepping out of the cool air, I walked face-first into a body.
I bumped into Dillon Hebert, a wall of muscle, scaring myself to death.Jumping back, I dropped my supper.
Watching the foodsicles side across the floor, he barely laughed.All I could expect of him.The man rarely smiled anymore.
“What in the devil are you doing here?”
