Yellow Eyes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 18 (v.1)

Submitted: April 24, 2008

Reads: 167

Comments: 2

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Submitted: April 24, 2008

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The moon was large overhead, looming and monstrous.It seemed as if it had grown since we leaving the farm.I imagined it descending toward us, closer, closer.The burgundy tone had grown darker, richer, and it seemed a livid color.The moon is angry. Why would it be angry?
Stars were shining now, their typical pale yellow sheen appeared orange as the light entered our atmosphere, the odd light cast by the moon mingling with theirs.Clouds drifted across the sky, blotting out constellations.I was used to noting clouds at night by the absence of stars, black patches of sky that hid the brilliance of the heavens above.As I looked on, the clouds were visible, a sick yellow coloration marking their undersides.I turned my head to the side and stared between the rails of the truck’s hay bed.
The dark purple and maroon trees went by, too fast.My stomach clenched and released several times.With a moan, I twisted to the side and sipped air in quick gulps, praying I wouldn’t be racked with the convulsions of vomiting, imagining the pain that would cause in my broken ribs.Ginger turned to me and laid a comforting hand along the back of my neck and studied my face.After a moment, the roiling in my stomach ceased and I settled back.
“What do you make of that moon?”I asked.Ginger shook her head slowly and didn’t answer.Beside her, Nadia shifted and then spoke up.
“The moon will turn to blood.”She said softly, allowing her words to trail away into the night behind us as the truck rolled on.
“What was that?”Ginger asked as she turned to look at her.Nadia didn’t reply, just stared up into the sky behind us, her hair whipping around her face.She closed her eyes as Ginger sought her hand and squeezed.“What did you say Nadia?”
“It’s out of the bible, I think.”She replied.“Something about the end of the world or maybe about the Jews leaving Egypt.The moon will turn to blood.”
“Where did you hear that?”I asked.
“I think in a movie.I don’t know if it’s true but I keep thinking about it.”After a pause she continued.“It’s getting bigger.”
I stiffened and Ginger’s hand on my neck ceased its comforting caresses.She turned to look at me then back to Nadia.After a moment she let go of Nadia’s hand, pulled her hand from my neck and covered her face as she lowered her head.I stared at her a moment then looked over her bowed head to Nadia.Our eyes met and she looked down to Ginger and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“What?”She asked.Ginger only shook her head.Her shoulders went up and down and I thought she might be crying, but no sobs escaped her mouth.
“Let her be.”I suggested.Nadia looked back up at me and then turned to stare out the side of the truck, her hand still rubbing at Ginger’s shoulders.
The moon will turn to blood.
Nadia’s words repeated themselves in my mind.I looked up into the sky.It didn’t look like blood to me.Still, it was ominous, dark and foreboding.There was no doubt in my mind there was a connection between the sudden transformation that had created the yellow-eyes and the abrupt change in the moon.What it was, I had no idea, only that they were tied together.I studied the dark magenta orb as it hung over us.It was definitely larger.
Closing my eyes against the unnatural sight, I tried to remember what I had read from the bible as a child.Nadia was right, of course.There was a passage in the bible about the moon turning to blood but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what.It had been years since I had gone to church or read any of the book’s passages.Scripture, I thought they were called.I shrugged, my concentration slipping as the painkillers took hold of my mind, slowly stirring my thoughts together.
Ginger might know, but she was dead.I thought about the last time I had seen her before she turned yellow-eye.Her hair was soft and wild, fresh from the shower.I remember pulling the towel from her head and laughing as she gave me an irritated look.I always liked to see her hair messed up.For some reason it always turned me on.
I felt a faint stir in my loins as I remembered her that evening, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, applying Oil of Olay to her face with slow circular swabbing motions.She had been wrapped in a towel, another around her head.As always, I had entered the bathroom to marvel at her in that state.Her skin was still flushed with the heat of her shower, her eyes seeming brighter against the reddish glow that seemed to radiate from her skin.Below the bottom hem of the towel, her legs turned nice and shapely from the knee down, tapering in slender ankles.Her toenails needed stripped and repolished, the metallic blue she had worn that day was flaked and peeled from her scrubbing in the shower.
I had slipped up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me.Holding her, smelling the lavender scent of her body wash on her skin, I had leaned my head against hers, pushed my face into her neck and felt the damp warmth of her body through the towel.My own shirt grew moist from our contact and I had closed my eyes and rocked softly back and forth, just enjoying the feel of her body against mine.I smelled her shampoo, coconut, and had pulled her towel from her head, letting her damp hair fall against my face.She sighed her resignation and annoyance at my act and when I had looked up into the mirror, she had been smiling.
The truck jolted and slowed and I opened my eyes, the memory whirling down inside of me to disappear.I felt the sharp tug of its insistence to be dwelt on. It was like catching a scent that reminds you of something you can’t recognize.Something you want to stand still and continue smelling.But it was gone.I rolled my head and Ginger was getting to her feet next to me, her face alert.Nadia was up already and staring out the back of the truck as we continued to decrease speed.With a lurch that rocked my body but failed to send lightning through my dulled pain, we came to a halt.Ginger and Nadia exchanged glances then stared off to their left and to the rear of the truck.I followed their gaze.
We had stopped in front of a newer ranch style home plotted on an acre or so of land.A wire fence separated the yard from surrounding cornfields.I blinked, wondering why Ginger and Nadia were so intent upon the house.Then I spotted it, parked at the end of the drive.
It was a mid nineties conversion van.At the time I guessed it to be a Chevy and not only was it large and sleek looking, it had a camper top and looked plenty big enough for all of us to squeeze into.I realized this was why we stopped.The enclosed vehicle would allow everyone inside and provide more safety.We could even have room to store goods in the back.I heard one of the doors to the cab pop open and Nadia turned her head.Ginger moved forward with her shotgun snapped to her shoulder, ready to defend against any attacks from the night around us.
“We’re gonna try and get moved to that van.”Slim spoke from beside the truck.I craned my head to look at him and couldn’t make him out very well.Nadia nodded.“Alright then, get up and ready.”
With that, he returned to the cab and pulled the door shut.The back up lights shone red into the maroon night and seemed to vanish several yards out from the truck.Greg ground the gear shifter and we started backwards.He angled the truck into the drive and backed up to the house’s garage and cut the motor.
I made it to my feet with Nadia’s help as the doors to the cab swung open.She bent and gathered my backpack and we moved forward.Ginger stood on the lower rail scanning the night around as Nadia helped me down then followed.Slim was making his way around the side of the truck with Doug leaning against him for support.I glimpsed their faces, noted the ashen paleness of Doug’s skin.Sweat beaded from Slim’s brow in large drops and blood dripped from high up on his shoulder.
We moved forward when Greg and Dale came around the other side of the truck.Ginger and Soldier hopped from the rear of the truck and we shuffled along the walkway that led from the drive to the front door.At the front porch, Greg stepped forward and leaned his head against the door, raising a hand in an unnecessary request for silence as he listened for noises from the interior of the house.After a brief moment, he reached for the knob and tried the door.It was locked.He turned around and shook his head at us.
“Here.”It was Ginger.“Try this.”She handed him her shotgun and he accepted it wordlessly.Turning around he aimed it at the knob.
“No!”Ginger gasped out.“Turn it around and beat that door down!”
Greg stared at her, a shocked look on his face.“Right.”
Turning the gun around, he gripped it by the barrel and stock and smashed it into the door above the knob.Wood creaked as the butt slammed into the door and metal clicked against metal as the lock bolt was slammed against its plate.He brought the gun back and struck again.This time the wood from the doorframe split around the lock plate and something clattered to the floor inside.

He brought the shotgun back and gave it one final smack and the splintered wood gave way and the door swung inward.Greg handed Ginger her shotgun back and stepped into the opening, holding my pistol out in front of him as he peered into the house.After a quick scan, he signaled us to follow and we entered the house.


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