Mad Flashes Read online

  MAD FLASHES

  By

  Lindsey R. Loucks

  Copyright © 2014 by Lindsey R. Loucks

  Cover Art: Valery Sidelnykov /Shutterstock.com

  Cover Design: http://fiverr.com/vikncharlie

  Ebooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer‘s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status andtrademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Facebook.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  RETRO-JOGGER MEETS ZOMBIE QUEEN

  ALPHA FEMALE OFFICE WOLF

  PRIORITIES

  WILLOW ROAD

  RECOIL

  IN THE LONG HALLWAY

  MAKE A WISH

  ONE TIMES ONE IS ONE

  A SHAVER IN MY HOUSE

  TOGETHER FOREVER

  CHAPTER 1 EXCERPT OF THE GRAVE WINNER

  PRAISE FOR THE GRAVE WINNER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RETRO-JOGGER MEETS ZOMBIE QUEEN

  I'm awake every day long before dawn so no one will see me. Not that I'm afraid of what people might think or anything, but because I have to get home quick to help get my sister ready for school. Single parent home and all that.

  My muscles feel more awake than I do since that dream I had about Darla still fogs my brain. The picture she posted on Facebook on Saturday of her in that skimpy prom dress and shiny dark curls spiraling over the tops of her boobs begs me to revisit her behind closed eyelids. But I can't. If I want to earn a track scholarship by the time I'm a senior, I have to be “focused, sharp, keep your eyes on the prize, Travis.” God, I really hate Coach sometimes.

  After a little more deep stretching, I turn myself around, Hokey-Pokey style, and step off the porch. Backward. Retro-jogging, Coach calls it. Running backward increases stamina, he says. Mom calls it trying to rewind time and then she sighs.

  The problem with retro-jogging is that I can only see where I’ve been. It kind of sounds poetic. Coach says it’s like poetry in motion, whatever that means. I twist my head to look over my shoulder because the strong Kansas wind will dry out my eyeballs if I don't. It’s coming straight at me, but at least it's pushing me in the right direction.

  I pick up my speed. A strange smell mixes through the cool morning air, almost like the time Mom left a hamburger casserole in the trunk of her car on a scorching day. Flies buzz over a brimming trash can someone left on the side of the road. I hurry past.

  When I have found the perfect pace and my heart is tattooing my ribcage, my thoughts turn to Darla again. I wish she'd posted more pictures, but her Facebook status has been empty since Saturday pre-prom. That Cro-Magnon dude she'd gone with had better treated her right or else he’ll be retro-jogging too when I spin his head around. Yeah, right. That's the adrenaline coursing through me. I can't take him even if I juiced myself up on whatever he obviously takes.

  Around the next corner, that same forgotten meat smell just about knocks me over. It's so strong, my stomach clenches and I fight off a gag. I listen for flies and think I hear them up ahead, or actually behind me. No trash can this time, but that doesn’t mean anything. Some people’s houses just reek. I pump my arms and pick up my speed.

  The crunch of gravel and a rustle of wet grass sound behind me. I crane my neck around but don't see anything except a rectangle of light spilling onto someone's yard. And a single shadow slicing through it.

  My heel catches on the uneven sidewalk. I windmill my arms, but it's too late. My landing shoots pain through my tail bone.

  "Hey, you okay?" a female voice asks.

  "Yeah. Great." I wiggle my legs to make sure they're still working. Thankfully, they are. I heave a sigh and look up at the concerned neighbor. Only she doesn't seem all that concerned anymore. She's squinting down the street in the direction I've been going. Dark shortish hair breezes over one eye, and she rakes it behind her ear. She’s older than me, like maybe Mom’s age, only she doesn’t wear the constant worry lines on her forehead. The sleeve of her flannel pajamas glides over the tablet-looking thing in her hand.

  She flutters her free hand to her nose. “What is that smell?”

  “Bad steak?” The blasts of wind have already faded it some.

  "Did you hear anything a minute ago?" she asks.

  "You mean other than me breaking my butt?"

  "I mean the sound of Alexandra McNeil's metallic t-straps."

  "Who's Alexandra?"

  The girl sighs and bends to offer me a hand. "A designer.Of shoes. I swear I heard the click of heels on the sidewalk and the swish of chiffon against a Michael Kristy clutch."

  She pulls me up, and I do an extra hop when I'm upright to make sure everything's still undamaged. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I say, rubbing my tailbone.

  She frowns over her shoulder. "Never mind."

  "Maybe you dreamed all these sounds?" A stray rock has jumped into my shoe and tucked itself into the holes in my socks. It hurts almost as much as my ass.

  "I wasn't sleeping," she says and waves the tablet thing in my face. "I was reading."

  I gape at her. "It's like five in the morning."

  She shrugs. “I read a lot, and zombie books keep me awake at night.”

  With a sigh, I sit back down again and rip my shoe and sock off to work the rock loose. At the rate I’m going this morning, my sister and I will have to settle for cold cereal instead of our usual eggs and bacon arranged into a smiley face on the plate. She’ll be bummed. “Must be a good book.”

  "Hells yeah, it is."

  Okay, so she’s not as old as Mom. Mom would never say something like that. “Did you stay up the entire night reading? Because that’s a little weird.”

  She crosses her arms and lifts an eyebrow. "Says the boy who's running backwards down my street at five in the morning."

  My turn to shrug. "It's a track thing."

  "Uh-huh.”

  The rock tumbles out of my sock, and I quickly slip it and my shoe on again. "So what's your book about?" Not that I’m interested, but she did help me up after my graceful spill on her sidewalk.

  "A teenage girl and this freaky zombie queen who keeps trying to tell her something, I guess about a grave winner.” A burst of wind snaps at her pajamas, and she shivers. “It’s kinda creepy that it takes place here in Kansas.”

  I jump to my feet and do a few stretches. “Neat.”

  “She reminds me of myself in a way."

  "You mean dead?"

  "Not the zombie,” she says, giving me a look that suggests I’m a little on the slow side. “The girl. She’s kick-ass, pretty hard-core. I just wish she had slightly better fashion sense."

  "Like you?"

  “Of course.” She grins then looks over her shoulder again. "Anyway, I'm going back inside. If you see any Alexandra McNeil or Michael Kristy things, you come find me. I'll be in the kitchen with a bucket of coffee and my book. Promise me?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” I say while I jog in place for a second to get my muscles warmed up again. It’s stupid to have stayed in one place for so long, but this lady’s okay. Strange, but okay, though she probably thinks the same thing about me. The strange part, I mean. "My name's Travis, by the way."

&nbs
p; "Ashley," she says and then she disappears inside her house.

  I find my pace again, but quicken it because I've lost so much time. Going without a smiley face breakfast is one thing, but hopefully I won’t have to skip a shower, too. From the growing stink that's coating my nostrils, I'm going to need an extra-long one just to wash the odor clean from my memory. Seriously, what is that smell?

  It follows me while I weave through the dark neighborhood streets. Or rather, I follow it. Things get so confusing when I'm facing the wrong direction.

  Just when I step out of the orange glow of the nearest streetlight, another rock works its way into my other sock and stabs my pinky toe. I try to shake it loose but it's stuck to the sweat slicking my skin. Good God, it hurts. I slow my speed and give my whole leg a shake.

  I hate to stop but I have to. Right in the middle of the worst kind of rotten meat smell in the history of the world. I bite back a gag and tear off my shoe. Better make this quick or else puke will end up in my shoe, too.

  Before I can tip the rock out, a light click-clack and a whisper of movement sound behind me.Right behind me, so close that putrid breath brushes past my ear. The hair on the back of my neck shoots straight up.

  I don't want to look. I have to look. Blinking furiously in the sharp wind, I turn and choke on a gasp.

  Darla. It's Darla, but not the same one from my dreams. The moon gives her skin a sickly green tint that matches her eyes. Her once shiny dark curls are frizzy corkscrews clumped together with something sticky and red. A sparkly crown hangs from the side of her head. Thick strings of drool dangle from her open mouth, drip into the crack between her boobs, and down her torn green dress.

  My breath comes in bursts. Questions start to form, but the only word that comes out is "What—?"

  She lunges for my face. Somehow, I manage not to trip for the second time that morning and take off at a hobbling sprint. Facing forward this time and running for my life. With only one shoe on. It's slowing me down.

  And she's gaining on me. Even in her fancy shoes, she's gaining on me. It's Darla who Ashley must have heard. Who else would be wandering around in high heels, a dress, and a purse wedged under one arm? With blood all over her. It's Darla. But it isn’t.

  A growl behind me pushes my feet into overdrive. Ashley's. I have to get to Ashley's house. She knows about zombies, and that’s what Darla is, isn’t she? What happened to her?

  Something rushes at my back and drags me down. I kick and flail, but it's no use. Darla is crazy strong.

  Surely Ashley has read somewhere how to kill zombies. I start to call out for her even though she’s more than a block away, but Darla sinks her teeth into my arm with a sickening crunch. My scream breaks apart as night fades in and out. I can’t do anything but lay there while a burning pain fires through my blood and pins me to the ground.

  Darla tilts her head while she tears strips of flesh off my arm. The crown on her head slides down her frizzy curls and bounces once, twice, off the cement. Then everything goes black.

  * * * *

  Hunger, more painful than the prom queen who fed off my arm, jerks me awake. A sliver of pink lights up the sky. The wind has died. Not even a breath of air touches my greenish skin. I have to eat. Now.

  I curl my fingers over the crown and set out, backwards of course, so she’ll know it’s me. The splatters of blood leaking from my arm onto the sidewalk remind me where I’ve been. My empty stomach and the crown gripped tight in my fist remind me where I’m going. Like the zombie in her grave winner book, I have something to tell Ashley—I saw the Alexandra shoes and the Michael bag. And Ashley will soon be dying to hear all about it.

  ALPHA FEMALE OFFICE WOLF

  Mallory, my red-haired coworker, rushed past my cubicle at top speed. “Hey, look who it is!” she called loudly.

  Not again. Please, not again.

  “It’s so good to see you, Vi!”Mallory squealed.

  Shit. I willed my scowl to relax into its usual smile and stepped out of my cubicle because I knew it was expected.

  “Hey, you,” Vi said, folding Mallory into her large frame. When it was my turn, Vi’s gardenia perfume wrapped around my lungs and squeezed. “There’s the new recruit.”

  I wheezed.

  Vi ended the hug but held tight to my elbows. “Everything going okay, Teryn?”

  She asked this question so often and always with the same searching look. I lit up my smile and widened my eyes. “Everything’s great.”

  Vi’s face fell for a second before she perked up again in normal, happy, friendly Vi mode. “Good.”

  “So…” Mallory bounced, and her bright hair bobbed up and down. “What’s been happening?”

  “Well, I’ve just been so bored lately. Thank your lucky stars that retirement is down the road a ways for you,” Vi said.

  I listened politely as Vi launched into what she did with her days and different clubs and activities she’d tried since the last time she visited the office. Which was only a week ago. Apparently office cubicle life was much more exciting than knitting club, Poker night, and discounted restaurant food combined. Which was why she couldn’t stay away from the office where she no longer worked.

  As soon as they started talking about people I didn’t know, I slipped back into my cubicle. Third wheels like me couldn’t cut into the turkey babble anyway. I reread the last sentence on the computer screen and bounced ideas of what I wanted to type next off the criss-cross patterns on the cubicle wall.

  “Oh! That reminds me, Teryn,” Vi said.

  Half a sentence had flowed from my fingertips. The rest of it sank into a black hole. I forced a smile and turned around.

  “I brought these for you.” Vi rummaged around in her large handbag and pulled out two short, thick candles. “I always thought the mauve color of these looked really nice against the blue walls. When I worked here, I put these on either side of the picture of my family. Like this.” She came into the cubicle and set the candles down on either side of my only picture, which was of my boyfriend, his dog, and me. “Doesn’t that look nice?”

  “Um, yeah. Thanks.” Pretty soon she’ll be sitting on my lap, typing the report for me. I chewed the inside of my cheek and stared at the computer screen again. The half sentence glared at me.

  “Did you hear about the new coffee place on Vermont Street?” Mallory asked. Her rose perfume drifted into my cubicle before she did. It conspired with Vi’s gardenias and smashed the bouquet of old lady up my nose.

  My fingers were poised over the keyboard. I searched the inside of that black hole for the last half of my sentence while the turkeys gobbled right behind me. Inside my cubicle.My cubicle.

  I tasted the burning in my stomach. Vi always sounded so happy when she visited the office, and now that she stood inside her old workspace, her happiness seemed more pronounced as it ricocheted off the walls.

  She’s trying to push me out. She’s an alpha female office wolf who ventured out to find new territory, only to return to her old territory to discover that it has been taken over by a younger wolf. She wants her old territory back.

  I coughed and opened my mouth so I wouldn’t have to smell them. Ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. Vi just feels she retired too early. That’s all.

  “Oh! Teryn, did you ever find my coffee cup?” Vi asked.

  I pretended to tear my eyes away from my computer screen like I was really working and threw a glance behind me. “Sorry. Still haven’t.”

  Bullshit. I knew exactly where the coffee cup was. On my first day, I found some items in the cubicle that had been left behind. I figured they were unwanted and had thrown them all away without a second thought. Most normal people would take all their belongings with them on their last day of work so they would never have to come back. Normal people.

  Vi sighed. “Oh well. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

  I eyed that unfinished sentence. Should I give up trying to work and go take a break? And let Vi claim her old territory?
Would she put her feet up on my desk? I squeezed my hands into fists.

  “I’m thinking about going back to work,” Vi said. “I thought I’d look around and see if I can find something part time.”

  “Really?” Mallory sucked in her breath. “What if you came back to work here?”

  “Well, I’ve asked Peter to keep me posted if anything opens up. But there’s nothing right now.”

  Vi’s eyes prickled the hairs on my neck. I knew she was giving me meaningful glances behind my back.

  “What if you got your old cubicle back?” Mallory asked. “We could be neighbors again!”

  Somehow my hand shot out towards the phone and picked it up. I turned my head slightly to make sure the women didn’t notice I was dialing too many numbers.

  “Hi Peter! It’s Teryn. Could you please clarify the report I’m supposed to write?” The burning inside me amplified my voice. I grinned into the phone, baring my teeth, as I listened to fake Peter’s fake reply.

  Immediate silence. I could picture Vi’s frown, a straight line that curled down at the corners. If I placed two candlesticks on either side of that frown, they’d slide right off.

  I nodded my head into the phone. “Uh-huh.”

  “Hey, what’s going on in here?” a male voice asked.

  The hush pressed against my cubicle walls.

  “Hi, Peter,” Vi and Mallory said with a question mark dangling from his name.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Peter’s silver eyebrows drawn together. The phone was still up to my ear. Blood rushed to my face. I glanced quickly at the two women before returning the phone to its cradle. They avoided my eyes.

  “Hi, Peter,” I squeaked.

  Vi cleared her throat. “I just came for a quick visit, but I need to get going.” She and Mallory made their way out of my cubicle. “See you.”

  “Bye,” Peter said. He smiled at me, but it looked more like a grimace. Then he turned and headed back to his office.

  Brilliant.Fucking brilliant. I buried my head in my sleeve. After a few breaths, I kicked my feet and rolled my chair out of my cubicle into the aisle, the breeze cooling my hot cheeks. “Thanks again for the candles, Vi,” I called.