The night sky is like a black, ripple-less ocean of unknown depths. A creeping breeze brushes against my cheeks as I hobble out of my car and make my way up to the door. As I walk, I can't help but notice the lack of the usual evening's ambience. There's no beeping of traffic, nor ringing of ambulance sirens. Even the crazy guy who always waters his lawn at night isn't out and about. I fumble for my keys at the door, unsettled by the horrid silence. My eyes pan around me as I fidget with the lock. Pale, dreary moonlight paints the nearby rooftops a dark, lifeless gray, while the full moon dominates the horizon overhead. I hear a click. Ah, finally, I thought as I swing the door open.
It'd been a long day at work, going in early for my portable shift and staying late for a class that dragged on for far too long. Couldn't Melissa schedule it so I wouldn't have to be there for so long? It's bad enough that it's four hours of review questions. I shake off the thoughts as I make my way through the house and over to the fridge. The worst part is that because I got off at four thirty, I barely had time to run over to the bank before it closed. Five minutes late, I guess I'll try again tomorrow. At least there's no class tomorrow. I grin with glee. They may have thought they were getting the better of me when they stole my account information, but I'll have the last laugh.
I dig into the fridge with my hand and quickly pull out an ice cold beer. "You'd never shut the window to the ATM on me, would you Miller?" I know the beer won't talk back, but it's still therapeutic. I shuffle over to the couch and turn on the tv. This is what I need after a long day; a nice rest with no interrupti― My thoughts are scattered by a sharp knock at the door. "Who could it be at this time of night," I whisper to myself as I set my beer down and walk towards the entrance. I pull the handle and hear the hinges creak as the door swings by me, revealing my Uncle Gary standing in the threshold.
"Heeeey Sean-y!" Uncle Gary says, wagging a hand in the air. The cuffs on his powder blue Hawaiian shirt dance with the motion. His perfect, silver hair doesn't move at all, staying locked in the perpetual comb over haircut. His bright white cargo pants almost seem to glow with the moonlight, hiding the uneven nature of the folding flaps of the pockets. My uncle's face, though ripe with age, sports a sly, serendipitous smile.
What the hell is he doing here? I take a moment to gather myself, trying not to reel from the surprise. "So what brings you here, Uncle Gary?" I ask.
"Well it's the darnedest thing. I was driving around town and my car gave out. I called AAA but they said it'd be at least a few hours till they had someone who could come get me. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd make a pit stop at my favorite nephew's house. How you been Sean-y?"
"I've been good, Gary. Work's just been busy, and I gotta study for a stupid physics test that my jerk teacher is giving next week." Bringing it up makes my stomach gurgle with disapproval.
"Wow, Sean-y, you haven't missed a meal, have you?" Uncle Gary replies.
What the hell does that have to do with anything? Suddenly, a rush of anger pumps into my chest. "Oh yeah? Well fuck you Uncle Gary!" The muscles in my arm flex as I slam the door shut in my uncle's face. Good riddance, that insulting piece of shit.
Feeling accomplished, I prance back over to my couch and plop my bottom back into its spot. Before I realize it, one beer turns into two, and then into three. My fingers spin the cap of the fourth bottle when the second knock on the door comes, this time harder and more rapid. It startles me, and I scurry over to the door without getting the chance to set my beer down. As I go for the knob, I realize that I'm reaching for the handle with my beer hand.
Oh no, I'm already tipsy. This is bad, what if it's something serious? I breathe in deep. Come on, compose yourself, we don't want a repeat of the Ikea Incident, do we? I find renewed strength as I open the door, and I'm greeted by a familiar face.
"Sean-y! I know you must've been busy, but this time, I really need to come into the house. You see, I fell on the way back to my car and scratched my knee." My uncle lowered his hand down as he spoke, pointing a finger at his bruised, bloody leg. His bleach white cargo shorts had ripped, with copious amounts of ruby red blood staining the pale fabric. One of his shoes was missing, along with the sock, and his Hawaiian shirt had lost nearly half of it's buttons.
What the? It's Uncle fucking Gary again. The alcohol renewed my earlier fury and removed any inhibitions that I had left. "Go home Uncle Gary. This isn't Christmas you fucker. I don't want to see you, go away!" Why did I have this hatred? I don't know, but it felt good.
"But, Sean-y, my leg..." My uncle's eyes grow wide and sad as they stare into mine.
A swell of shame and sympathy washes over me as I realize that I've been kind of a dick to a member of my family. Even though he's a steaming pile of crap, I should treat him better. I bite my lip as I weigh the prospect of remedying the situation.
"Look Gary, I'm sorry about shutting the door on you earlier and yelling. I'll go get some bandages for your leg." I start to turn my body before my uncle's voice stops me.
"That's not how it works, Sean-y. You have to invite me in. Why's it so hard to welcome your dear old uncle into your home?"
"What? What are you talking about Gary?" I swivel back so that I'm face to face with him. His eyes were no longer warm and harmless. They'd turned cold and twisted, now resembling the eyes of a predator, staring with icy determination at its prey. His voice crackles as he speaks to me.
"Have you seen how the horned one walks behind the meadows, Sean-y? Do you hear the chorus of flies as they circle around a carcass, Sean-y? Do you want to know what god thinks Sean-y? Do you Sean-y?" Gary lets out a blood-curdling scream as green, slimy foam begins bubbling out of his mouth.
I do what I do best, and I slam the door as hard as I possibly can, separating myself from whatever the hell was happening with my uncle. What the fuck is going on? I sprint over to my cell phone, setting the precious beer down on the end table by my home's entrance. My worried fingers dial 9-1-1 as my index finger rapidly pushes the 'Call' button.
A monotone, robotic female voice speaks through the phone speaker. "We're sorry, your number is no longer in service. Please hang up and open the door for your uncle for more options. Goodbye." To my horror, the phone abruptly turns off. Oh my god, what the hell does that mean?
"Do what the bitch says, Sean-y!" I hear a voice bark from outside my home. It didn't sound like Gary. No, this voice was deeper, ringing of dark, malicious intent.
"Stop it Gary. This prank isn't funny. Who put you up to this?" Just as I finish shouting, the house lights go out, shrouding me in near complete darkness. What do I do? What the hell do I do now? As my brain wrestles with the panic, my ears pick up an ominous sound coming from within the house: the pounding of footsteps.
"Sometimes rules can be broken too, Sean-y, especially for the right price."
I gasp as suddenly the voice is right next to me, and I feel something latch onto my arm. Hands with fingers way too long to be my uncle's wrap around my bicep, squeezing like one would squeeze a sponge.
"Yes, you really haven't missed a meal. The greater the calf, the greater the harvest. I'm so happy to be here with you, Sean-y." His grip is freezing, cutting off the circulation to my limb. As the lights flicker back on, what I see paralyzes me, far more than his grip ever could.
The whites of my uncle's eyes had turned an obsidian black, his pupils now a fiery red. His ripped Hawaiian shirt stretched over his now hunched, deformed back. The tattered remains of his cargo shorts clung to his hideous form, like refuse on the edge of an alleyway.
"Now you see my true form Sean-y. Now, it's my turn to feast. You understand, right? You didn't miss a meal, so why should I?" With that, My uncle's jaw dislodged, showcasing a gaping maw filled with razor sharp teeth. Stinging pain shot through my body as I felt the edges of my uncle's nails grow as they dug into the flesh of my arm.
No, it can't end this way.
Then, the answer to my prayers came. Another knock echoes through my house, forcing my uncle to turn his disgusting head over to the entrance. A more forceful impact blasts the door off its hinges, and stepping into the light is none other than famous actor, Bruce Campbell.
"Wait a minute, this isn't the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting!" Mr. Campbell says.
"Please help. My uncle's trying to kill me!" I stammer, and I feel the creature's grip tighten. My uncle's features had grown more grotesque, with fleshy, bleeding gills now forming on the area of his throat beneath his cheeks.
"No, Sean-y, I'm not trying to kill you. I'm your salvation. I'm here to make you one with us. Don't you want to be complete Sean-y?"
I hear the whistle of Mr. Campbell, still at the doorway. I swing my gaze back over to him, watching him snap his head and spit onto the floor.
"Well, it's not what I had in mind tonight but what the heck?" The Evil Dead star reaches down to the end table, grabs my fourth beer, and downs it without even blinking. "So, Gary is it? Let's boogie."
My uncle releases his grip on me, shoving me across the room with ease. He rushes over to Mr. Campbell, moving on all fours like an animal. Bruce's arm shoots down to his hip, and the actor produces a large double barrelled shotgun, sawed off at the edge. With one hand on the fore grip, he pumps the shotgun, and with the other he pulls the trigger.
A deafening blast erupts from the weapon, and the misshapen form of my uncle is knocked back, falling over to its side.
"Oh thank god, it's over," I exclaim, staggering to my feet.
Bruce scowls at me from across the room. "Hey buddy, it's not over until we take off the head!"
Just as Mr. Campbell finishes reprimanding me, Uncle Gary leaps back to his feet, crawling like an insect up the wall and onto the ceiling.
"What do we do?" My eyes meet the movie star's.
"Well, if you have any power tools, I suggest you go get them. I'll try to hold him off."
I nod to Mr. Campbell and run out my front door, heading over to the shed. My shoes slip and slide along the wet grass as I stumble hastily across the yard. As I reach the front of the shed, I roundhouse kick the door open. No time to waste, get the chainsaw.
I swing my hands around the dark shelving of the shed until my palms grip the rubberized handlebar of the saw. Good, now I gotta hurry back before Uncle Gary kills Bruce Campbell.
I drag myself back across the yard while clutching the heavy saw. A second roundhouse kick opens my front door, revealing a giant tentacled mass in the center of the room. One of the octopus-like arms has Bruce wrapped up in a tight bind, slowly squeezing the life out of the movie star. Through his pain, he seems to notice my reappearance. "Quick, go for the head!"
I look over at the top of the mass. At the peak of the fleshy, writhing mess of tentacles and gelatinous filth, an unrecognizable head juts out with the same, perfect, never-changing comb over of silver hair sitting atop it.
The comb over doesn't lie; that's Gary's head.
I ready my weapon, revving the chainsaw as I dart forward. This is it, the fate of Bruce Campbell, maybe even the world rests on my shoulders right now. I can't fail. I hold onto this thought as I ascend the abomination, slicing any tentacles that come my way like some fanatical woodcutter chopping down renegade saplings. Before I know it, I'm staring down at two pairs of fishlike eyes, with the gray comb over laying between them. A voice echoes in my head, like an audible thought that someone else is thinking in my mind.
Come on... Sean-y... Don't hurt your uncle... I'm far more than just... Gary... I'm... your... god!
A splitting headache pounds between my ears as I sweep downward with my chainsaw, cleaving the head off of my uncle. It rolls down the mountain of tentacles and explodes as it hits the ground. Not a moment later, the rest of the fleshy mass begins to melt into puddles of green and purple puss, ruining my beautiful carpet. Mr. Campbell lands beside me with a thud, but hops back onto his feet in no time.
"You did good, for a rookie. Now what's say we have another beer. I think you owe me one."
The first sign of dawn makes itself known, as thin rays of sunlight peek in from the edges of the window. "Yeah, I think I'll get myself one too."
I deserved it after all, I'd just survived the Night of the Living Gary.