The Taken

23

The mother was comically tall and thin. She appeared like a stick bug with long, dry and crinkled grey hair. Mucus dripped from her gaping jaws and her grey nose that hung for dear life from her face. Her eyes were lifeless and watchful, gazing at Barry, intent on feasting. The glass orbs trailed themselves up and down the boy's body, making her lick her cracked lips with her pruned tongue. She took her bones for fingers to a boil on her neck and scraped against it. Her breathing was heavy and her heart was noticeably beating under the thin white spaghetti-strapped top she wore.

Barry dared not to move too fast as he slowly dragged his knife along the counter, giving it an eerie and soft screech.

The woman looked to his knife and fiddled with her neck some more.

"Uuhh." Her voice clicked, it was dead and almost mocked a computer mouse.

Her left foot swayed forward, making her first move.

Barry blinked rapidly, clenching his stomach to snuff out his hunger. He moved to his left to the opposite side of the table, staring down the bag of bones with a glare.

Carefully and methodically, the woman moved her feet with more agility and stability around the table.

Barry, riddled with fear, stumbled across a chair and tripped to the floor next to the open doorway leading to the hall. He grunted and his knife leaped from his grasp. The woman lunged herself at his lower legs and feet, gripping and groping for his limbs.

Fortunately, Barry realized to kick her across the face, finally severing her nose and dislocating her lower jaw. This stunned her and she felt for her bleeding gums, furrowing her brows in confusion. While distracted, Barry scattered to his weapon on elbows and knees. He could hear the woman howling behind him with a froglike tone.

As Barry's fingers wrapped themselves on the tool, his head jerked backwards to a gaining monster, she too, was crawling. Barry gasped at how close she was and without thinking dug into the mother's skull, giving a crack, crunch and squish. She was still grazing her 'fingers' across his bare arms, leaving temporary white scratch marks. Her eyes were abnormally spaced apart, almost popping out of the sockets. Her missing nose made her look like Voldemort. Grey hair covered some of her face and some was pushed into her head by the knife.

Barry just sat there, holding the knife with both hands, sitting upright, with a lifeless body resting on his legs. He let go and pushed the woman off of him, as well as wiping off some blood from his face that squirted from the stab. Her body laid on its back, arms sprawled and her mouth hanging, with a knife jutting from her forehead.

Barry crawled back to a wall and clutched his ringing head. His stomach gurgled while he whimpered. The sun dimmed over the mountains, giving way to its counterpart.

Barry reached for his knife and yanked. He might as well explore the house. The boy struggled to his feet with shaking knees, holding a wall. He rubbed one of his eyes with his free hand and yawned.

He snaked his way through the hall, hugging the right wall and peering into the setting living room. It seemed cozy with the sunset behind the windows. His hand met a wooden handrail, securing the stairs to the second floor. He looked up at the lifting ceiling that ran parallel with the stairs. Family portraits and school photos hung on the wall past the handrail, depicting the family that had dwelled here. Barry's mouth muscles perked only slightly. The people smiled at him, with lights in their pupils, and cold hard stares.

Barry huffed and traced his fingers along the handrail while his feet climbed the first few steps, the family still looking at him with processed happiness.

A door sat just at the top of the stairs, and the rest of the room was filled with other entrances to other rooms. Barry climbed and felt for the first doorknob, but it was locked.

"Huh," Barry said in confusion.

Three other doors were to his right, one hiding in a corner closest to him, one dead center with its door wide open, and the other in the opposite corner. The sunset light trickled through a window from the room with the open door. Mud streaked the carpet floor, or it was old blood.

Barry dragged his feet, placing a hand on the doorjamb.

A body laid in the middle of the room, covered in swarming flies and maggots. It looked like it had melted into the carpet. Its stomach was wide open and rotting, fuming a pungent odor of decay. Barry's nose wrinkled at the smell and his stomach contracted. His meal shot through his esophagus and out his mouth, with a taste of stomach acid. He crouched to the ground and heaved rather violently.

Barry gasped for air and moved on to another room with haste, shutting the door immediately as well. He moved onto the door farthest from the locked one and swung it open. There wasn't anyone inside, only sheets of paper on the ground, all sorts of toys like Lego's and dolls. A bed rested near an open window that sent a breeze, blowing the curtains hanging from above. Barry wanted to tumble onto the bed and forget about today, he was exhausted and just needed someplace warm.

He walked over clumsily to the bed, stubbing his shoed big toe on a post from the bed. Barry cringed with pain and collapsed onto the stale and aging bed. His lungs deflated with delight and he was already relaxed.

Just before he fell into the darkness that was sleep, in the distance a small boom went off with a raging blaze of fire that rocketed to the sky. The boom was soft but it still flustered the boy.

'A building?', he thought.

He slumped his head again into a cloudy pillow, then came another sound, much louder and closer, minutes later.

"Veronica!" A masculine voice shouted a name. Barry perked up again, a little angry that his sleep was being toyed with by the apocalypse. It took him a few seconds to realize what that person shouted was a name. And that there were probably two people so close to him. Barry looked around the room, seeing nothing but the glare of the fire at least a mile away, that very dimly lit his room.

Barry had a thought and jumped to his feet and dashed out the bedroom door, down the stairs, out onto the front lawn with his knife in hand.