King Carrion by Rich Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

Calvin, Zeke, and the family from the other house. And in the corners at the far end of the room were two women and three men huddled together, limbs entwined in rest, like creatures in a nest. All of them were pale to the point of being bloodless, and wearing the same clothes as last night, streaked and matted with dirt. There were dead leaves and black soil scattered around them. Twigs in Zeke’s hair, and scratches under his eyes. There was dried blood around Calvin’s mouth and on his beard, and smeared on parts of his face. A spider skittered across the little girl’s stomach and vanished into shadow. Her parents were locked in an embrace, their heads resting on the other’s shoulder.
         Mason stood there for a while, too scared to raise his breathing above a whisper. The rain stopped. The torchlight waned, flickered for a heart-stopping second and then returned to its original brightness.
         He stepped towards them. He crouched next to Calvin. The old man lay on his back; his face held an expression like the satisfaction of a long hunger had been sated. He looked at peace. His hands were clasped together over his stomach, raggedy fingernails filthy with blood and dirt.
         Calvin’s silver cross hung limply from his neck. Mason thought about that for a minute.
         “Are you asleep?” Mason asked. He reached out to check the pulse on Calvin’s neck, but hesitated when he saw the opened mess of the man’s throat. The wound was blackened, drying out, and if Mason wasn’t mistaken it was already healing around the edges. He winced, staring in fascination, as rational thought began to ebb away on tides of fear and primal dread. He said the word he’d been thinking since entering the room. He considered the wounds in the victims’ throats. The teeth. The suggestion of an awful hunger.
         “No, no, no,” he muttered, sweat beading on his face. And with all the effort he could muster he placed his forefinger on Calvin’s neck to feel the carotid artery. The old man’s skin was cold. No pulse, no beat, no ticking of the signal from the heart.
         He checked again. And again, there was nothing.
         Calvin opened his eyes.
         Mason fell back onto his arse and let out a boyish yelp.
         Calvin grinned. His eyes were blood-red, bulging from their sockets. He reached out with one claw-like hand and grabbed for Mason’s feet, but Mason scuttled backwards against the wall, keeping the torch upon him. 
         Making a low sound, Calvin rose slowly to his knees, holding his wrists to the sides of his head and swaying from side to side. In the thin blade of light, his mouth yawned open like that of an enraged primate, to show stained yellow teeth sharp enough to puncture aluminium tins. The light glinted in his cruel eyes.
         Mason scrambled to his feet, holding the knife out before him. “What happened to you, Calvin? What’s going on?”
         Calvin sniffed the air, closed his eyes, and then opened them again. His mouth formed a malicious smile, and the voice that came from it was different, somehow, wheezed out of his dead chest. There were only a few yards between them. Close enough for grabbing distance.
         “You’ll find out, lad. Why don’t you stay for a while and we can talk? Our King has been in town for a few days and nights, spreading his gospel, sharing his flesh and blood. The ones he’s converted will convert others in turn. It’s beautiful, is it not? This isn’t the only nest, Mason. Our King was very busy last night; I suspect there have been many absences from work and school in the last few days. By the end of tonight, there’ll be hundreds of us.”
         Mason caught the sulphuric gust of Calvin’s breath. He edged towards the doorway. “I have to leave. I have to go…”
         Calvin shrugged like he didn’t care, like it was a small matter, and said nothing. Then he lunged for Mason to claim him