The Feeders

9 - A Wake-up Call

     Our house phone doesn't ring often. The only reason we even have one is because it came in a bundle package from our cable and Internet service provider. I can hear it in my sleep, a high pitched shriek filling the house. It snaps me out of my troubled dreams. Between the ringing, clinks and growls rise from below as my living dead parents get worked up over the noise. The last thing we need is for the neighbors, laying in their beds with everything around them quiet, to suddenly hear our parents having a fit in our basement.

     My heart is flying as I leap from bed and take off for the living room where my mom installed the phone that sits on our end table. I wrap my fingers around the unfamiliar receiver and pull it away from its base as though I'm deactivating a bomb.

     "Hello," I say, breathing heavily with adrenaline.

     "Hello, Janis," says Captain Woody Wainwright, my father's boss. He's got the kind of tired voice that's been ravaged double-time by his highly stressful job. Deep and droning. Somehow, he remains kind. "Any luck your father is around?"

     The growls are coming through the floor.

     Oh, he's around.

     "He's not here right now," I say. He isn't. Not in this room anyway; certainly not in his right mind in any sense.

     "That's too bad," the Cap'n says. "I can't reach him on his cell, nor your mother's. I know he's on vacation, but...well...this is very important, Janie. I'm sure you've seen the news. The world is going to hell in a hand basket. I've got more'n half the squad out on sick leave or...well...you know. I really need him."

     He's downstairs. They're both down there. They're sick or dead, possibly rotting, just waiting to get a good chance at Salem or me. Count him out Cap'n, he's more than likely done for. He's not getting the flesh Salem says he needs, so he's rotting like a banana.

     "He's at my papaw's, sir," I lie. It just pours out all coated in sweet. "I can try to get a message to him today, but you know how houseboats are," I say like a chocolate fountain of lies spilling from my lips.

     "Your papaw Red doing okay?" he asks, suddenly concerned.

     "You bet," I say. I haven't heard from papaw Red, but I know he's fine. Heck, he's probably just sitting in the middle of the lake on his front porch, drinking his Pabst Blue, listening to an oldies station on his little radio, with his fishing line in the water.

"Good, good," Cap'n says. "If you get a message to Eli, please tell him to get back as soon as possible. I'm in over my neck here."

"I'll tell him, sir," I say.

"You. You be careful, you hear? Don't get too close to anyone that looks sick at school."

How nice of him to add the little warning, I note. It reminds me of something dad would say. A sad little smile spreads on my face.

"I won't."

"You're safe there, with Eli gone? You locking up tight?" he asks.

"Yes, we're okay. Everything is in perfect working condition, no cracks or anything."

"Good. Call me if you see any signs of trouble. Things are getting more and more dangerous. You seen the kind of stuff I have, you start worrying about everyone else. Salem is with you, right?"

"Yes, he's here."

"I feel a lot better knowing that. He's a smart kid. Too smart for his own good some times, but you run into any trouble, you just listen to him and I'm sure you'll make it through."

Just listen to him. Cap'n's words ice me to the bone. If he knew what Salem had suggested yesterday...if he only knew about Salem's experiments and his theories, would he say that? Could he? Could any morally decent, law abiding citizen even consider what Salem considered?

"I will," I say, not really feeling the words that roll from my tongue. I'm not sure I can obey those orders, sir.

     The receiver feels heavier as I lay it to rest on the telephone base. Somehow the weight seems to transfer to my chest. I hate lying. Especially to someone that has always been kind to me. But if I don't, they'll take my parents away.

     Would that be so bad? At this point, they're as good as gone anyway. Aren't they?

     I put my hands through my hair--a little nervous tick I've never been able to knock--and allow myself to rest on the couch.

     No. That's not true. There could be a cure waiting to be released to the public right this very moment.

Okay, so a lie is one line you'll cross. How many more? What about Salem's idea? Will you bring them people to keep them alive?

     "I can't," I say to myself. I push off the couch. It's time to get ready for school. I trot to the shower, trying my best to ignore the desperate moans from below.