A Pound of Flash Read online




  A Pound Of Flash

  A Collection of Short Stories

  All stories written by David McAfee except:

  Apology, written by Michael Crane

  Return to Ravenworld, written by Daniel Arenson

  Locked and Locked Again, written by David Dalglish

  Cover designed by David McAfee

  Image provided by iStockPhoto

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your direct use only, please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  For my mother, Francesca “Paqui” McAfee, who would probably shake her head and swear at me in Spanish over some of the stories in this book. I miss you, Mom.

  ***

  Other Books by David McAfee:

  33 A.D.

  Saying Goodbye to the Sun

  The Lake and 17 Other Stories

  GRUBS

  The Gallows Tree (Coming Soon)

  INTRODUCTION

  My first short story collection, The Lake and 17 Other Stories, has far outperformed my expectations. I had no idea there was a market for this sort of thing, and have been blown away by the response. So first and foremost I feel like I should say thank you to everyone who picked up a copy of Lake. I hope this book, my second foray into short horror and flash pieces, will do justice to the first.

  Inside you will find 12 brand new 100 word pieces, which are always a challenge to write due to the stringent word count restrictions (100 words exactly. No more, no less, including the title but not the “by” line), as well as four more traditional short stories. For those of you who enjoyed Exhibit A, I have included the talkative killer’s second story, which is titled (imaginatively enough) Exhibit B.

  There are also three bonus stories by authors Michael Crane, Daniel Arenson, and David Dalglish, who wrote the much lauded short story One Last Dinner Party which was included in Lake. Several reviewers mentioned his story in particular, so I figured if I didn’t invite him to contribute to this anthology as well, no one would buy it. Probably shouldn’t have said that. Oh, well. It’s there now and I don’t feel like deleting it.

  In any case, I hope you enjoy reading the stories in this book as much as I enjoyed writing them. And if you like some of the work by my guest authors, please check out some of their books. Authors have to eat too, you know. ;)

  Thank You,

  David McAfee

  Table of Contents

  Florida Vacation

  Honest Mistake

  Lysol

  Exhibit B

  Never Turn Your Back on the Dead

  Crazy

  Last Stand

  Surviving the Zombie Invasion

  Neighbors

  Devil Music

  Goth Chick

  One of Four

  Soup

  Gamer Beware

  Cancun

  Alone on the Mountain

  Bonus Stories:

  Apology

  Return to Ravenworld

  Locked and Locked Again

  Florida Vacation

  By David McAfee

  “You sure you know where you’re going, Earl?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “But this looks dangerous.”

  “You wanna see gators, don’cha?”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “But nothing. This is where they live.”

  Sure enough, a pair of eyes, glinting red in the beam of Earl’s flashlight, breaks the water’s surface. Soon after, a second pair arrives. Then a third.

  “Holy shit. Look at ‘em all!”

  “Yep, and all of ‘em are hungry.”

  “I bet. I — Hey!”

  Earl listens for the splash, then throttles up the boat and heads back to the shore as the screaming starts.

  “Fuckin’ tourists,” he says.

  Honest Mistake

  By David McAfee

  It’s hard to see in the dim room, so he switches on the light at the bottom of the microscope. The brilliant red of oxygenated blood jumps into view.

  “Ah,” he says. “Here we go.”

  He twists the knob on the bottom, bringing the red cells into focus, then sits back to see what happens.

  Nothing does. After several minutes, he pulls away from the eyepiece and looks at his brother’s corpse.

  “Well Blake, you were right. You really aren’t a vampire. Sorry about that.”

  Blake says nothing as the last of his blood drips onto the floor.

  Lysol

  By David McAfee

  “It’s been months, Roberta. When are you gonna let me... you know?”

  No answer. Whenever he talked about sex, Roberta just stared out the window, ignoring him. Meanwhile his erection throbbed. His balls were gonna hurt tomorrow.

  “Not this time.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the floor. Surprisingly, she didn’t resist.

  “Hang on, Baby,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He grabbed the Lysol and sprayed. Much better. He noticed the tag on her toe had come loose again, and tucked it back under her foot.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked, lightly kissing her cold nipple.

  Exhibit B

  By David McAfee

  Hey there, detective. Still a little groggy? Yeah, I figured you would be. I had to dose you pretty high because you’re such a big fucker. I never was good at math and shit, so I had to use my best guesstimate.

  Is that a real word? Guesstimate? Lemme check. I got a dictionary right here. Let’s see... guesstimate...guesstimate...aha! here it is. “To estimate without substantial basis in facts or statistics.”

  Shit, yeah. That sounds about right. That’s just what I fuckin’ did. Looks like it worked, though. You’re here, after all. You probably have to piss like a racehorse, too. I’m not surprised. That was a shitload of beer you drank. You probably should have watched your bottles a little better, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so. What with you bein’ a detective, you shoulda known that already. Live and learn, right? I gotta tell you, though, you’re one heavy son of a bitch. I had a hell of a time gettin’ you here.

  Oh, yeah, you dunno where here is, do you? That’s OK, you’ll figure it out. You’re a smart guy, right? You must be, or they wouldn’t have put you on my case.

  Damn, man. How big can your eyes get? Do that shit again. I wanna get a picture.

  No? C’mon. I promise not to show it to anyone.

  Fine, then. I guess I don’t need a picture. But man, if you coulda seen the look on your face. You’d be laughin’ too. Or maybe not, considering.

  Careful, man. Those cuffs are stout, you’re just gonna end up breakin’ your wrist. Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’. Yer thinkin’ ‘Cuffs? He’s using cuffs now? That’s not his normal M.O.’ You’re right, too. I hate cuffs, always have. They seem like cheatin’. See, the thing is, I’ve been watching you for the last couple of weeks. You didn’t know that, did you? Ha! I’m pretty damn sneaky when I wanna be. Anyway, like I was sayin’, I’ve seen you in the gym, pumping iron and downing those protein shakes like they were Long Island Iced Teas. I know how strong you are. I didn’t figure my old nylon rope would hold, so I had to invest in something better.

  I bought the steel crossbeams myself. Had to have them welded by a pro, though. My little butane torch wouldn’t work. Cost me a shitload of money, too. Do you like it? I did that for you, man. You know, you kinda look like Jesus u
p there, all stretched out with your arms as wide as they’ll go. I have that pulley on your shoulders to help hold you up. I know it’s not very comfortable, and I’m sorry about that. But look at it this way, you are gonna go out just like Our Lord. That’s gotta make you feel a little better, right?

  Seriously, Detective, your wrist is just gonna fall off if you keep that shit up.

  Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. Jesus. I wonder if you’ve ever heard those ‘predestination’ people talk. Have you? Sorry, you can’t answer. You can nod your head, though. Have you ever heard them talk? No? Must be a backwoods thing. My ex wife always used to tell me I was a hillbilly at heart. I sure wish I knew where she was now, I’d be payin’ her a visit next. And that asshole stockbroker she married. But that’s neither here nor there.

  What I was tryin’ to say is those predestination people always talk like everything that happens in this world is part of God’s Plan, as though he directs the whole planet. Makes you wonder, you know? No? Well, it makes me wonder, anyway. If God is directin’ everythin’, then that must mean you bein’ up on that metal crossbar is all part of God’s Plan, too. How do you like that, huh? God wants you up there. It ain’t just me.

  That must mean he wants me down here.

  See, the great thing about all that predestination crap is I can say this is all God’s Will. I didn’t have any say in it whatsoever. He is up there pullin’ the strings and makin’ me do what he wants me to do. That means, if you listen to those folks, that what I’m really doin’ here is God’s Work. Which just makes me wonder, what the hell did you do to piss him off so much?

  Ha, I’m just fuckin’ with you, detective. I don’t believe in none of that shit any more than you do. Hell, you heard my last tape, you know better. But I had you goin’ for a minute, didn’t I? Admit it.

  No? Well, I guess you’ve got good reason to be sore at me. But just so you know, you’re suckin’ all the fun outta this. Well, some of the fun, anyway. Not all of it. The real fun stuff comes in a few minutes.

  You look thoughtful, detective. What’s on your mind? Wait, don’t tell me. I bet you’re wondering how hard it’d be to check all the licensed welders in the county and see who did any big jobs recently, aren’t you? You’re up there, stuck to my contraption, and you’re still doin’ detective work. Good for you, man. Never give up, never surrender. Semper Fi, and all that shit.

  Know what the best part about using unlicensed welders is? No paper trail, and no way to find them. Besides, the guy who did the job will never talk.

  Ok, ok. You guessed it. He can’t talk. Not anymore. And even if he could, I buried that fucking crook so deep only the worms’ll hear him. Honestly, you should have seen how much he charged me for this thing. That guy belonged in prison. I paid him, though. I’m a man of my word. I left the cash in an envelope on his chest before I took a backhoe to the hole. And no, I didn’t lick the envelope, so even if they find the guy they ain’t getting my DNA.

  You wanna talk about someone’s eyes getting big. When he saw that backhoe pushing that pile of dirt on top of him, man his eyes got even bigger than yours did a few minutes ago. I did get a picture of that. Right here on my cell phone, see? Look at ’em. They look like dinner plates! Man, I wish I could send this to someone, but I know you guys can trace that shit. I ain’t a hacker and can’t hide my trail. Still, I might have to print a hard copy of this and mail it to his wife, just so she’ll stop wondering. I got nothin’ against her, y’know. Actually, she’s kinda cute.

  Your wrist is bleeding, detective. Trust me, you can’t get out. Just leave it be. Seriously. You’re startin’ to remind me of the time I...

  Fuck me. Where are my manners? You don’t wanna hear any of that shit. Sorry about that. I dunno if you caught this by listenin’ to my first tape, but I’m kind of a talker. Always have been. It’s a curse.

  Anyway, we should probably get started. Did you know that crucifixion was used as a means of public execution way back in ancient times because it’s such a slow, painful way to go? Yeah, it’s true. They didn’t just stick you up there to decorate the lawn. The design of the crucifix makes it impossible for the prisoner to breathe unless he’s holding himself up with his arms. Somethin’ about pressure on the diaphragm or some shit. The prisoner has to focus on using his muscles to keep himself in a position to keep breathin’.

  How fucking cool is that? I tell you, man. When it comes to torture, those guys had the best shit.

  Anyway, as you can imagine, that sorta thing takes its toll on a person’s body pretty quick. Most people would get tired after a few hours and end up suffocating themselves because their arms and legs just gave out and wouldn’t hold ‘em up no more. In cases where the prisoner was extra stubborn, the guy could last until sundown. Can you imagine? Over twelve hours of that shit? In those cases, the Romans carried clubs that they would use to break the prisoner’s legs so he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

  Those fucking Romans, man. You gotta love that shit!

  Anyway, that’s why that harness is there. I didn’t want you to suffocate before I had a chance to talk to you. Now that were done I’ll cut it loose.

  There. Feel that? That’s your body weight tryin’ to kill you. All those hours spent building up your muscles, and now those very muscles are weighing you down. You know why I picked this for you? It’s because you’re so strong. I figure you’ll be up there a long, long time. I don’t have a club, but I do have this lead pipe, here. I filled it with concrete and capped the ends just for you. That part, I did myself. I figure it’ll break a tibia - or fibula or whatever the fuck the bones in the lower leg are called - just fine, don’t you? By then, you’ll probably think I’m a saint for doing it.

  You don’t mind if I sit down, do you? Watchin’ you up there is makin’ me kinda tired.

  I gotta be honest with you, detective. I’m a little disappointed they assigned you to my case. I looked up your record. You barely graduated college. Probably spent all your time drinkin’ and fuckin’. Exactly the kind of frat boy I always hated. I figured they would put someone with a better conviction ratio on my case. I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you couldn’t catch a cold if you walked through a kindergarten class in January. It’s kinda insulting. I guess I didn’t get their full attention last time.

  That’s it. Stand up. Pull your torso off the bar with your arms. Kinda like doing a pull up, but you get to use your legs, too. Now breathe. Good. You’re gettin’ the hang of it.

  Get it? Hang of it? Ha! Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

  Think I’ll have their full attention when they find your body?

  Never Turn Your Back On the Dead

  By David McAfee

  “Jen? You ok? Jen?” He did a set of compressions, trying to revive her. No use.

  The fuckers got her. His Jennifer. Dead, lying on the garage floor in a growing pool of blood. A chunk of her neck was missing, revealing a torn, lifeless artery.

  A groan outside the garage door caught his attention, and he ducked down under the window. He held still, not daring to breathe, as the sound of shuffling footsteps passed by. Must be a dozen of the damn things out there.

  Behind him, Jen’s eye popped open.

  Crazy

  By David McAfee

  Noah looked at me like I was crazy when I bought the window bars and reinforced doors.

  “Look at this neighborhood, Irma,” he’d said. “Who’s going to break in?”

  “You never know,” I’d replied. And I was right. Ok, so maybe I didn’t know the town would someday be overrun with hordes of ravenous undead, but it turns out a little caution was a good thing. The fuckers are everywhere! They shuffle up and down the street, devouring everyone they see.

  Noah’s still looking at me like I’m crazy, only now he’s screaming for me to let him in.

  Last Stand

  By David McAfee

  He stood against the wall, firing round after round into the approaching horde. Th
e slow bastards never bothered to duck or dodge. They just stood there, arms outstretched, and waited for their heads to explode.

  Bang! Another one down.

  Bang! Bang! Two more.

  He pulled the trigger again. Click! Out of ammo. He grabbed a clip from his belt. It held 14 rounds.

  Three more clips at his belt. 56 more rounds total. He looked out over the army of living dead, thousands of them, then slid the clip home and took aim.

  Bang! One more went down.

  Surviving the Zombie Invasion

  By David McAfee

  Gary followed Zack into the unfamiliar house and closed the front door behind him.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Zack asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This,” he pointed to the door.

  “What? Closing the door? It’s a habit,” Gary said, a little defensively. “And it’s a good one, given the circumstances.” The circumstances, of course, being that they were stuck in a dead town filled with ravenous zombies.

  “It’s a good way to get killed, is what it is,” Zach said.

  “It’s locked. And it looks strong. They shouldn’t be able to get in.”

  “Zombies never close doors,” Zack said, stepping around his companion and opening the door. “They don’t have any reason to. That’s how they know when people are inside a house. If they walk by and see the door closed, they know someone living must have closed it. Some weird instinct draws them, like mosquitoes to sweat.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Oh yeah? Watch this.”