The Lacerated Sky

By Anthony Izzo

Strange clouds are forming over the Town of Dell. Pinkish in color, they seem to pulse, ready to unleash a red rain on unsuspecting townspeople. It's no ordinary rain. The blood red liquid turns people into violent mutants. People transform instantly, covered in horrible burns and scars. A group of survivors huddle in a restaurant. Others take shelter in an amusement park. And the source of the strange clouds is something more terrifying and ominous than they can imagine.

 

A horror novella from the author of Nightshade and Legends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthony Izzo
• Release date: Nov 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393999881

Anthony Izzo

Anthony Izzo is the author of 17 thrillers. He enjoys writing tales of mayhem that include anything from zombies to psycho killers to murderous shapeshifters. Anthony was a judge for the Buffalo Dreams screenplay competition. He recently had a story appear in the "SNAFU: Future Warfare" anthology. When not writing, he enjoys playing loud guitar, reading crime novels, and giving craft beers a good home. He makes his home in Western New York and features Buffalo prominently in his work.

Book preview

The sky was strange.

Tim Greenbow looked up as he exited Wilson’s Hardware. The clouds had taken on a pinkish tinge. It was overcast, the sun blocked out for the moment. But dammit if the storm clouds overhead weren’t pink.

Tim squinted. You could see veins of red running through them. He pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the weather app. The Weather Channel was showing the possibility of thunderstorms.

A breeze kicked up and blew a Snickers wrapper across the sidewalk.

He wondered about a tornado forming, but there’d been no warnings, and he was certain the sky got green or something with tornadoes. Still, it was damned weird.

He’d been replacing the flush valve on the upstairs bathroom toilet. The tank bolts were shot, so he’d taken a ride into town. Wilson’s was one of the last independent hardware stores in the area. He sure as shit didn’t feel like driving two towns over to Lowe’s.

Now, as he walked back to his pickup truck, Strider poked his head out the passenger window. He gave an enthusiastic bark, the Shepherd’s ears perking up.

Along with the toilet tank bolts, Tim had gotten a jerky treat for Strider. Wilson’s had them in a plastic container on the counter. Strider knew it, because every time Tim went, he got the dog a treat.

He got to the truck, scratched Strider between the ears, and offered the treat. Strider snapped it up, gobbled it down, and licked Tim’s hand.

That’s a good boy.

He heard a siren wail, and a moment later, a fire engine raced down the street, lights going. A ladder truck chased after it a moment later.

Strider whined. He didn’t like sirens.

Tim got in the truck and checked the time. It was just past noon. The dog watched him, as if to say, We going? Tim’s stomach rumbled. He had to go grocery shopping and had little to eat in the house. A can of beef vegetable soup didn’t seem appetizing.

He decided to get a burger-to-go from The Stackhouse down the street.

As he started up the truck, the classic rock station broke into some news. Seems there was a large fire at the Department of Energy lab over in Dell. That was about twenty miles from here. Fire and Hazmat crews were responding. Local officials were urging people to stay indoors.

Weird, Tim said. Wonder if that’s why the clouds look so funny?

Strider chuffed, as if putting in his opinion on the subject.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and lightning flashed. It had a red tinge to it. The flash left an imprint on his eyeballs.

He considered just heading home and settling for a can of soup. Strider was bound to get jumpy in the storm. He’d rescued the Shepherd as a pup, just after Ana passed away.

Tim never expected to be a widower at forty-six. Hadn’t expected to find Ana dead on the living room floor from a brain aneurism, either. The doctor at the ER told him she hadn’t suffered, that she was likely gone when she hit the floor. That didn’t help. Dead was dead. His best friend and wife of eighteen years was gone.

They’d never wanted kids. He was glad for Strider. The house had been too quiet after Ana died. The dog was good company, and had even taken to sleeping with Tim. He didn’t mind, as long as Strider kept to the other side of the bed.

I suppose I have time to grab a quick burger. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll share.

Strider woofed his approval.

He looked up out the windshield. A pink mist had settled among the clouds. Lightning flashed in the mist. It was damned eerie. They were likely going to get one hell of a storm.

He phoned in his order. They said to give it fifteen minutes. That would give Tim enough time to grab his burger and get going home. Hopefully, he’d beat the storm.

––––––––

The guy at table four was a nightmare. From the porthole window in the kitchen door, Sara Pinelli watched him drum his fingers on the table. Every so often, he shot a dirty look at the doors, as if he could will his order to come out faster.

What a prick, Sara said.

The guy at number four? Cassie said, peering over Sara’s shoulder at the customer.

Second time this week he’s been in here, Sara said. Both times he’s sent his burger back. Asked for it pink, then bitched it wasn’t done enough.

We re-firing it? Cassie said.

Unfortunately. I’d like to hold it in my ass cheeks for before we send it back out, Sara said.

You’re nasty, Cassie said.

I didn’t say I’d actually do it.

Be nice, Cassie said.

Sara had been the Stackhouse for two years. At twenty-four, she’d been a waitress for five years and had seen her share of rude customers. The guy at number four topped the list of asshole patrons. Despite his demeanor, she would never go so far as to tamper with his food.

She’d seen things done to food. At one place she worked, a customer came in twenty minutes before closing and ordered a steak dinner. The cook, incensed, had stomped on the raw steak before grilling it.

She went to the window to check on her order. Dave, the cook, was placing it in the window.

That the re-fire on table four? Sara asked.

You got it.

Sara took the plate back into the dining room. It was pretty well packed, every table full. The Stackhouse offered thirty-two varieties of burgers, plus a full craft beer menu.

The owners had renovated the place when they bought it, putting in dark leather booths and rich wood trim. It felt a little cave-like to Sara, and customers complained sometimes they couldn’t read the menus. Didn’t hurt business, though.

They rarely had an empty table at lunch.

She approached number four. He was a rail-thin guy dressed in a white button down and green corduroys. He had a leather-bound journal on the table and an expensive-looking pen nearby.

She set his burger in front of him. I’m sorry about that, sir. Here you go.

I waited long enough, he said, grabbing a butter knife and cutting the burger in half.

Again, I’m sorry for the delay.

I’m a busy guy, he said, cutting into the burger. He peered at it, squinting.

God and baby Jesus help me. If he sends it back again, I may perform unwanted surgery on him with a butter knife.

I guess it’s fine.

She decided to try and make nice with him. Are you writing something? That’s a nice-looking journal.

I am. Wouldn’t expect you to grasp it.

Well fuck you, too. Let me know if you need anything else.

Hopefully I won’t.

She backed away from the table.

He’d probably be writing crap reviews online, trashing the Stackhouse, and yet still coming back for more. Some people reveled in being miserable.

She really had to pee. Before heading back for a quick bathroom break, she checked on her tables. The customers were happily downing burgers and fries. She hurried into the breakroom. The ladies’ room was nearby.

In the breakroom, she found Cassie and a few others looking at the wall-mounted flat screen. Cassie twirled her blonde hair, which was colored bright blue and pink at the tips.

What’s going on? Sara asked.

Lab went up in flames. Look at that cloud coming up from the building.

She recognized the government building from her trips through Dell. Firetrucks surrounded the three-story structure. A ladder truck sprayed water on it from above. A pinkish mist rose from the building and dispersed into the air. It was as if the entire sky were a pink sunset. Although it wasn’t pretty. It made Sara wonder just what had been released into the air.

"Is it toxic, you