Dead Fools

By Rem Williams

There are things on this Earth that go bump in the night, and there are people who find the strength to hunt them down. Almon, one such person, is only a teenager, but he's done more than he can say in a minute. He knows everything out there, but one thing plagues him. What's so different about Morticia-Casketine?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503580237

Book preview

Almon: The Drive

Almon had never truly liked long drives.

They were filled with silence, heavy arguments, or impatient conversation that neither he nor Judah could bear for very long. The relationship between the two men—well, man and barely legal boy—was somewhat of a rocky nature. Both blonds had an aptitude for serious discussion, and silence the remainder of the time. While the older male was more skilled with cultural intercourse and flirting with women, the scrawnier of the pair was awkward and often placed in situations that he only worsened. His socially inept nature was quite infamous of those within the trade, but he had never seen what the real fuss was about in being able to communicate when all he did was use a laptop.

Almon, the younger of the two, spared his companion, Judah, a glance as he drove. Judah had opted that he drive, seeing as he had received fewer injuries of the two from the last hunt. See, the unusual duo were hunters, but not the run of the mill kind. They specialized in game that often sought their meals in bipedal creatures, namely humans. The older of the two, Judah, had been doing it since he could hold a gun properly, and the younger—happening to be Almon—had only joined the trade five years prior.

Running a hand absently through his mop of blond hair, Almon sighed softly. He was unsure, and was certain that Judah was as well, of what exactly the request they’d answered was truly about. It had been a cryptic message left in Judah’s email. Aside from the message, they’d only gotten a name and an address to go off of. The message itself had been filled with a lot of very terrifying descriptions of corpses in an almost poetic manner. It had been enough to excite both readers’ interests and have them take off before Judah had even begun to heal.

The scenery flew by in swirls of placid greens and earthy browns—like when you look at a still pond and you can see straight to the bottom—as they approached the small town known as Endeavor. Why such a place had such a name was a mystery that didn’t quite appeal to Almon, but it seemed to have an enticing effect upon Judah. Prior to falling asleep, he’d speculated that there could be a meaning behind the name. A secret society had been the first guess, and the latter were all small time bits of sleep slurred shit. While he was sure his mentor was capable of intellectual observations even in his deepest dreams, Almon would’ve gladly knocked Judah out cold if he continued to speak through his haze of sleep.

Almon regarded the road by which he took quietly. The trees appeared to encroach onto the cement, roots lifting the road in places and branches hanging low like fingers skimming over a black river. Clumps of dirt seemed to be all that was holding the foliage back from traversing on the road entirely. There were no signs of small animals, save the larger birds of prey that circled the skies with their keen eyes and readied talons.

Having taken his eyes off the road just for a moment, he felt something ram into the side of the car, jolting both driver and passenger from their respective dreams. Judah shot up in his seat, the action resulting in a pained expression crossing his face. Almon assumed some of his stitches had been pulled in the process, which he’d have to do again when they reached a place to rest. He slammed his foot on the brakes, jerking both of them forward, before both parties exited the vehicle to see what had hit them.

The creature that they collided with, however, was nowhere in sight.

It had left behind a size-able dent in the left side of the car, to which Judah seemed to exhibit the most emotion for. If anything, Almon was sure the man cared more for his car than for the person in his care. His visage was twisted in deep contempt, which matched the current crater in the car. The vehicle’s engine didn’t seem affected by the collision, still running and purring out its opinion of moving on.

What the fuck hit my car!

Judah was clearly ignoring the urgency by which they had to get moving. He hesitated several times as he gesticulated a wild number of phrases, mostly pertaining to brutally murdering whatever it was that had left such a massive dent in their ride. Almon stifled a few draws of laughter, casting his gaze down as Judah continued on with his display of emotion. Only a few moments later, he was met with a swat to the back of his head, cranium jerking forward.

Get in the car, Judah seethed, heading for the driver’s side. Almon didn’t raise a single protest, seeing as the permanent smile lines on Judah’s face only accented the creases in his forehead and the angry light in his eyes. The younger male slid into the passenger side, and buckled up as they continued on their way.

Pulling into the small town resembled something similar to what Almon had seen in the movies.

Again, the trees seemed to be encroaching on the man-made buildings, all of which were faded colors that must have once been brighter shades of hues. It didn’t seem to be the typically tiny town with so few buildings you could drive right through and not even realize. Instead, it could have been close to a small city, had it not been a few buildings short. The only real problem that was bugging Almon now was why he’d never heard of the place. It felt as if it had just cropped up out of nowhere; a whole town of established histories appearing out of thin air.

The size didn’t warrant the lack of recognition, much less the name itself. So why didn’t he know about it prior to his arrival? He had aced his geography tests all through high school, including the ones that had been focused on obscure or irrelevant towns within the US. This town could have been one of them, but he couldn’t remember having ever seen a town called Endeavor on his test sheets.

They pulled into a homely looking motel, dubbed ENDURE ENDEAVOR by the sign that hung over the doorway. It looked to be connected to a bar with a similarly corny name that Almon didn’t spare a glance towards. He was already sure that he’d regret stepping over the threshold before he was even remotely close. He could catch the hint of smoke and mold, like someone had set fire to the fungus growing on the wall, and that was just approaching the door.

Pushing open the door revealed a slightly less appealing lobby. The wallpaper was far more faded, and in most spots, pealing right off to reveal the old sallow glue. Almon shuddered when he took in a few lipstick stains that clearly related to some hanky-panky gone awry. Following the marks were clawings that were made by human nails, and they looked fresher than Almon would have appreciated. The carpets were caked with dirt, and he could scarcely tell what the original pigmentation of the material was.

Glancing up, he took in the front desk, behind which a stout looking woman stood. She appeared to be as old as the place itself, what with the loud creaking of the floorboard, and the evident strain of breathing. Her hair was silver gray and thinning, shoved roughly into a bun done in a hurry by the looks of it. Her fingers were stained a brackish color around the tips, as if she were the one doing all the menial labor.

Black little beady eyes shot up to Almon and Judah when the woman noticed the pair walk in. Almon had sworn he’d seen it all, but she gave him the creeps. Deciding to sit this one out, he placed himself beside Judah in a manner that kept him at a steady distance from the counter.

What can I do you for, she inquired, surprising both of them with the softness of her voice, "We have several rooms available, but if you need something to eat, you can walk down the hall to Defeated Endeavor. The specials are world class." She grinned toothily, revealing the teeth of a chronic smoker, her gums yellowed and brown like muck, and her teeth just as bad.

Judah contemplated his words, clear from the way his brows furrowed and lips somewhat puckered. Nah, we’ll just take a room for my partner and I, he responded, his voice smooth. He had the sort of voice that was soft, but distinctively masculine, and held every bit of authority.

Oh, the woman drawled, as if some revelation had dawned on her. She cast her gaze over to Almon again, looking him over somewhat appreciatively. He’s a little baby-faced, but I see where the appeal is. Her laugh was hoarse and raspy as it came in choked wisps, again flashing her decaying teeth.

They didn’t quite get it, the two of them. They just shared a glance of confusion before continuing on with their request. Judah winced and groaned softly as he made a move to get his wallet, or rather a wallet pilfered from an unsuspecting man two towns back. The woman gave him a questioning look, to which Almon replied,

He threw his back out last night.

A shade of scarlet slapped itself onto the woman’s face, to which she again began to giggle girlishly. Almon had yet to realize the implications she found in his words, but Judah had caught on.

What, Almon voiced cautiously, watching the two.

Judah said not a word in response, but shook his head. Still confused, he observed the exchange of money for the room key. He felt a hand placed roughly on his shoulder when his thoughts drifted back to sorting out his confusion, and was dragged along by Judah to their room.

The shower was running by the time Almon returned with the food he’d bought at the bar. The fries looked greasy in the unappealing way, and the burger seemed as if it were two buns slapped over road kill. He couldn’t complain, though, seeing as he had been the one to badger Judah about going to some other place in town when they were already close to a food store. If one were to think about it logically, they were saving money on gas.

Lips pursed, he studied his supposed substance of a meal as Judah stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his head as he entered the room in a fresh set of boxers. There was a moment of silence before Judah spoke.

She thought we were a gay couple, he stated, thus ending Almon’s presumably perpetual confusion.

The look that crossed his face could only be explained as horrified fascination as he sought through the prior exchange with the owner of the motel. He turned his gaze back to the greasy mess of patty and bun, and began to eat. All the while, Judah dressed himself.

Almon had never specified a form of liking to any binary—or non-binary—gender, but he was one for keen observation of those around him. He’d spent a better part of five years admiring his older companion, who never seemed to get out of shape. His abs were toned, and muscles defined in a light play of lines. If he were to show an interest, it would be in good taste.

Compared with his own visage, which many had taken up as his nickname of baby-face, Judah had rough expression of someone with a mission that appealed to them; permanent smile lines that accented soft lips and bright blue oculars. Frowning slightly, Almon turned his attention back to his meal, rather than feel anymore self-conscious. It was not uncommon that he would have moments of self-doubt, but it was not something he was ever so willing to share openly. Neither was he willing to share in their frequency, and the budding concern within himself that he may have a serious issue to deal with.

Now dressed, Judah sat himself on the bed after retrieving his own meal. He didn’t grace the excuse of food with much of an examination and began to eat as if it were the last food on earth. His expression rang out the pensive mood he’d seemed to settle into, brows drawn in and eyes moving with an unseen diagram.

First thing tomorrow, we gotta see who sent the email, he said after a few moments of thought. Almon nodded in response, and they fell back into the same silence that usually accompanied them when they had little to speak of.

The next morning held little to no results as Almon sat at his laptop in the darkness of the room. He’d been hacking fruitlessly for the IP address, but nothing seemed to come up. His head hurt from the lack of sleep he’d gotten, much in part due to the fact that he hadn’t felt all that comfortable sleeping on the floor or in the bed with Judah. Judah had a knack for waking at the slightest turn, and Almon happened to be a wild sleeper. That, and he was sure he’d just barely gotten through the phase of what had happened the last time they’d shared a bed.

The event had been nothing but a natural occurrence for him in the morning that usually went away with a cold shower. The only problem was that in all his tossing and turning, he’d found his way around to Judah. When he awoke to the sharp pain in his groin, he was faced with the very angry older male lifting his arms off of his sides.

Shaking off the memory, Almon rubbed his sore eyes and closed his laptop. He’d put a stop to the search for now, and continue when his oculars weren’t burning. He stumbled his way to the bathroom and proceeded to perform the usual morning ritual.

Stepping out, he blinked at the bright room. The lights were flickering, but still casting enough light to illuminate the room in a manner that resembled the sun. The curtains were also drawn, to which he crossed the room to close. His bad habit of sashaying out of the shower in either a towel or nothing at all had yet to be tamed, and he didn’t need anyone reporting him for public disturbances that he never intended to cause.

Judah had already left by the time he’d exited the bathroom. He assumed so because the room was barren of the elder male when he stepped in, with the lights on and all. He figured that Judah had gone out looking for the sender of the email himself, in his own way. It may prove to be more fruitful than his search, as it did some times.

Getting himself dressed, Almon decided that he’d do some more searching in the non-virtual world. He ran a hand through his hair to fix whatever had gotten tousled in his dressing, though it really just seemed to make it worse than it was before. Sighing and leaving it be, he was out and on his way.

Trudging down the stairs and out the door was the easiest part. You would think that as one in his profession, he’d be fine with normal human interaction. However, such was not the case for Almon. People had never been a strong suit, and Judah had known as much.