• All Nightmare Long
    ---Metalhead118


    Derik was finally coming home.

    After three hard years in military service in Iraq, in the grueling desert, he can finally have a warm dinner to eat, a bed to sleep in, and a girlfriend to love. It’s so long since he has seen her pretty, vibrant face of compassion. It wrenched his heart just thinking about it.

    The ride in the taxi from the inner city military base was becoming unbearably long to the young Derik, who was day dreaming of his girl’s homemade cooking. His military fatigues stuck to him in the stuffy, humid taxi car making the ride even more excruciating. He checked himself in the driver’s rear view mirror. His hair was coming in; a golden shag barely coming over his ears. It was good enough for his commanding officer, who didn’t b***h much about it as long as he could do his job as weapon specialist. Derik grinned as his warm hazel eyes stared back at him, almost haunting, as he thought of his commanding officer.

    “ ‘If you do your f*cking job, I won’t butcher your goddamn hair!’” Derik whispered to himself the exact words of his commander.

    Derik loved his job. Feeling the cold gunmetal against bare skin was so intoxicating and surreal. The very weapon he worked on would determine it’s killing power as a instrument of death. It felt good in a morbid, taboo sort of way. None of Derik’s regimen cared much, for it was their a** he was saving if the weapon was faulty.

    He was broken out of his trance when the taxi came to a startling halt. The driver reached his around to face Derik, “This your stop?”

    Derik stared blankly at the burly man in the “Git R Done” cap, still in his war memories. He scrambled for words as he felt around his back pocket for his wallet.

    “T-Thank you.” Derik finally stuttered as he handed the cabbie the fair, shaking his head in a thanking gesture.

    As Derik stepped out into the blistering summer son with his duffle bag, he had the immediate feeling that something was wrong. Call it instinct, but something did not feel right to the young soldier. He was at his quaint suburban home, that was for sure, but the rest of the suburbs felt rather empty.

    Derik looked both directions at the endless rows of houses, seeing not a lawnmower running, a child playing on the sidewalk, or a single soul conversing with a neighbor. It was eerie, especially since every vehicle seemed to have doors open with belongings stuffed into them.

    “Maybe the city is having a block party?” Derik reasoned uneasily to himself.

    The first thing he learned in training was to trust his instincts, so Derik kept the feeling tucked away inside his head. His girlfriend’s dark blue sedan was still parked in the driveway, so he figured that she was still home waiting for him. Jenna knew he was coming home today and has been counting down the days since he told her about a year ago. She would not just leave on foot anyway, even for a block party.

    Derik stepped into the air condition house with a sigh of relief. All their belongings were still in place, down to the very cushion and comforter. Their fireplace was neat and tidy, thanks to Jenna, with his gleaming saber above the mantle on a plaque. He earned that when he graduated from the academy and has kept it nice, sharp, and polished up until he was shipped out.

    Suddenly, the uneasy feeling came back. He set down his duffle bag and stepped toward his dining area, fully lit by the sun through the sun doors leading outside. He heard a faint scream coming from outside as a crash soon followed. He peered outside and saw that a man still in his morning running down the sidewalk towards his house. Derek, fueled by the negative vibes, ran to main entrance and ran outside.

    Right as he opened the door, the man in the robe rushed passed him, screaming, with his robe and face freckled with blood. Right on his heals were his attackers, all screaming with bloodlust as they ran after. There was three of them; two males and one female. They all looked middle aged with blood smeared over their mouths. Their skin looked pale and as pasty as a wax figurine and their eyes were a dark crimson. The eyes instilled a fear into Derik’s heart that he had not felt in a while

    Derik saw them dash after the man, a look of bewilderment scrawled across his face. It was when the cluster tackled the cowering shambles that was the man that his face slowly was painted with horror.

    The individuals began to literally claw at the man with bloody fingers. Most of their hands were not even hands; just bloody knots of flesh and missing fingers. Now that they stopped to attack their victim, he was able to see that the attackers were mortally wounded. Some were even missing half of their faces and limbs. It was a miracle that they could walk, let alone run as swift as they did. Derik’s stomach did back flips as they grotesquely began to tear at the poor man’s flesh and began to indulge in mounds of gore.

    In all his time in Iraq, Derik has seen marine’s bodies torn apart by gun fire and roadside bombs. He has seen some horrible scenes of Iraqi civilians missing whole limbs from suicide bombings. But nothing prepared him for the absolute hell that followed shortly after seeing the man being eaten alive.

    Suddenly, the whole neighborhood was engulfed in utter chaos. Screams gurgled with blood cut through the humid air as the mortally wounded psychos began attacking anybody unlucky enough to be caught by them. Derik could hear multiple firearms going off as some began to defend themselves, some to no avail.

    As the hell unfolded in front of him, Derik just stood there, amazed at the gore and chaos. He was mystified and horrified all at the same time. This trance was broken when one of the blood thirsty nut cases set her crimson eyes on him. He caught her bloody body at mid run before she reached his porch and ran inside his house, slamming the door behind him. He pressed himself against the door as the banshee began pounding on the door as she screamed for his flesh.

    When all he heard was the faint screams and chaos outside his house, Derik finally remembered Jenna. He ran to the bedroom, frantically searching for his girlfriend, adrenalin pulsing through his veins.

    “Jenna! Dammit, where are you!” Derik bellowed as he began to quake with fear.

    Within his peripheral vision, he could see the bathroom door creak open. Before he could turn his head, Jenna exploded out of the bathroom, her arm oozing blood. He opened his armed to embrace her, but everything began to move as if it was slow motion. Her arms were reaching out for him, blood glazed over one of the rigid claws.

    Derik’s heart sank as he saw her eyes were now the horrifying blood red, his greatest fears realized.

    Before he could react, his girlfriend fiercely tackled Derik, gnashing her teeth with hunger and grunting with blood lust. He held her neck with his good arm, the other pinned down by Jenna’s death grip. It felt like he holding off a heavy weight champion, not his lover he once knew. He stared into her new eyes, trying to search for any hope in finding her former self. He found none.

    Before her teeth could get any closer to him, Derik shoved her off of him, slamming her into the wall. He ran into the living room and he fell to his knees, not knowing whether to cry or scream in rage. He just swallowed into his own heart, trying to feel the regret of not being able to keep Jenna safe. He could hear her in the bedroom and he decided he should at least help her. He looked at the gleaming saber, his prize that Jenna must have boastfully showed off to her friends, proving she was a marine’s wife. He stood up and reached the hilt, feeling the weight and cold steel. The euphoria took over once again, feeling the metal touch his skin.

    Derik turned his glossy gaze to the bedroom doorway, now occupied by the heavy breathing shell that was his lover. He felt his heart ache, trying not to cry as she began to run towards her doom. It took little more than a flick of a wrist to bring the saber up to her eye level. He winced as her head met the blade, slicing through her flesh and skull like a knife through butter. She stopped, her eyes changing to death stare, twitching as Derik twisted the blade. He could feel the bone breaking by his sword’s might and his strength, blending the skull and brains into one.

    He withdrew the blade when she no longer moved and dropped the cold steel, the saber making an echoing clang throughout the house. Jenna’s now lifeless body fell along with the saber with a sickening thud, landing in a tangled mess.

    Derik fell to his knees once more and looked up at the sky, where whatever unforgiving god resided, and screamed with rage, tears streaming down his face.

    ***

    Derik sat on his bed, drinking whiskey out of the bottle, sweat soaking his body. His tank top clung to his body the same way his uniform did that day a week ago when the cab brought him to this nightmare. He still wore his camouflage trousers and combat boots, bloodstained from countless encounters with the other “Lifeless” when he went out for supplies.

    The events of that day when all hell broke loose were still burned into his brain like a brand. The blood flowing from the innocent victims of the Lifeless, their red eyes gleaming with hunger…

    The same eyes that once filled Jenna’s now dead eyes.

    The sickening crunch stilled echoed in Derik’s head when he plunged the saber into her head.

    He ended up burning her in the furnace in the basement after he killed her. Her remains were then put into a small pouch which he hung on a small nail above the bed in his bedroom, a “good luck” charm to hopefully keep him safe while he was deep in slumber. He looked at the pouch full of ash, with small pangs bombarding his heart like a million needles.

    He shook the feeling off and pushed it further down into his psych as he arose and walked passed the living room into the kitchen.

    The full glass doors were now replaced with heavy wooden beams from the lumber yard behind his house. Derik did the same to all of the glass windows, not taking any chances. He wanted to survive.

    ‘But is this worth living?’ Derik thought to himself, taking a heavy swig from the bottle of amber elixir.

    He sat down in the relatively dark dinning room, lit by only a few candles, taking a seat at the dining table where he always sat at this hour for one of Jenna’s delectable home made meals. It washed him with only pleasant memories of the past, where they would eat then make love into the early morning hours, tenderly kissing each other showing their powerful love. He smiled as he took yet another drink of whiskey, letting the memories take him back.

    “Did you love me, you f*cking p***k.”

    He was startled out of fantasy as Jenna now sat across from him, the pale candle light revealing her face as it was before he burned her, down to very last stitch of clothing.

    “Jenna…” Derik whispered, wide eyed and amazed.

    “Don’t ‘Jenna’ me! You let me die! For what! For the f*cking military!” She began to bellow.



    ‘This isn’t possible…she died…I burned her goddamn body in the f*cking furn-!’ Derik thought frantically.

    “Precisely, you little sh*t.” She answered before he could even finish the thought, the flames revealing the entry point of his saber, “You thought you can get rid of the mess you made?!”

    “Baby…I thought you proud of me graduating the academy? What-” He stopped, “Wait, you’re a f*cking hallucination! I remember killing you!”

    “Well, you can’t get rid of your lover’s memory, can ya? Can you even imagine the pain…of turning into one of them?!” the illusion frantically asked, beginning to sob.

    Derik just stared at her, unable to respond or even nod. He just peered into her crimson eyes, unforgiving and vengeful. His illusions did not even give him mercy. He slowly gripped the .45 Caliber Desert Eagle that he had on him at all times, feeling the metal graze his skin.

    “DO YOU THINK I LOVED GETTING MY ARMED ALMOST EATEN OFF BY ONE OF THOSE MONSTERS?!?!” She screamed, her face now knotted in rage.

    Derik angrily tossed the whiskey bottle aside, drawing the huge firearm before the bottle made the echoing crash, pointing the pistol at the illusion’s head. His hand shook uncontrollably, trying to hold back the building anger and agony he had stowed away for the past nightmarish week. The Jenna hallucination began to chuckle, then it rose to a shrill laughter.

    “Ah, honey, your just as crazy as all the others say!” She mocked, “You’re are pointing a gun at something that is in your head, for Christ sake! You want to kill me again?”

    “No…” Derik voice trembled.

    “Will it suit your sick fetish with guns to kill me with it?”

    “No…”

    “YOU NEVER F*CKING LOVED ME!!”

    “SHUT UP!!!!!!”

    His trigger finger then had a life of it’s own. Loud, deafening gunshots rang, beating his eardrums, while he kept screaming every obscenity he could as the hate and pain flowed through the large pistol. The fire from the gunpowder lit the room up like fireworks, the hallucination howling with glee.
    When the trigger only clicked blanks, Derik let his arms fall to his sides, burning with pain from the recoil. His knees felt like wet noodles as he fell back into the chair, not able to hold up his own weight. He looked up at the sky, his hair covering his tear stained eyes as he slowly sobbed, the illusion no longer there.

    “I love you, Jenna. I’m sorry.” He repeated until he cried himself to sleep.

    ***

    He was wide away the next night, absolutely hollow from yesterday’s events. He stood before the very spot where he had his illusion of the Lifeless Jenna, with the table holding the fruits of his military labor.

    Derik counted a military-grade shotgun with two boxes of shells, his hunting 30.06 Winchester scope rifle with military armor piercing rounds he bought from an old friend, two puny 9mm handguns with three boxes of ammo, and his prized Desert Eagle with about thirty-five hollow point slugs.

    He slowly began to load the weapons to a point of full metal jacket, pocketing the rest of the ammo, letting the high of his forbidden fetish take over every nerve in his body. He smiled a twisted grin, closing his eyes as the rushed washed over him like a waterfall. Tonight, he was going to leave this place where his memories were no longer heart warming day dreams.

    “I’m leaving this nightmare…” He whispered as he chambered a round into each firearm.

    Derik packed his duffle bag with some water, canned food, and a hand held radio, though the radio, he believed, would prove useless. He set the bag down by the door and began to unhinge one of the boards from the windows, peering out the small sliver of window. The littered streets showed no life or Lifeless; the streets only bore wrecked vehicles and dead bodies when he took pot shots at wandering Lifeless. Derik nodded to himself that it was all clear.

    He holstered all his small arms while taking the strap from the rifle and draping it across his shoulder, while holding the shotgun firmly in his trembling hand. He held the duffel bag in the other hand as he kicked the door down to freedom or utter doom.

    The suburbs were as quiet as the day he arrived, not a soul to be seen. He walked to the sedan, unlocking doors and loading the gear into the vehicle. He felt the pouch of Jenna’s ashes draped around his neck, hoping for her blessing and luck. He finally felt at peace for the first time in weeks as he drove away from the memories.

    Derik drove a few miles before any Lifeless began chasing the sedan in vain. He was going too fast for any of them to catch up to the vehicle and there was only small groups of rotted bodies. He smiled the same twisted smile, an insane smile, as he tasted the freedom as he approached the city entrance.

    The city streets were literally filled with rotting and fresh Lifeless as he stopped the sedan. The headlights in the setting sun caught their beady crimson eyes, all filled with glee as the meal arrived. Derik smiled back at them, knowing his revenge would be granted to him. He kicked the sedan into drive and sped into the hoard of oncoming Lifeless, cackling as he grabbed the shotgun from the passenger seat.

    Derik took down at least a dozen rotting corpses before the sedan came to a halt. The moaning was deafening as the Lifeless began pounding on the windshield of the sedan, cracking it slowly. Derik took the shotgun and pointed at the driver side window, pointing the barrel at the first opened mouth f*cker in his sights and fired the weapon. The glass shattered as the head of the Lifeless exploded in a fanfare of gore and blood. He unloaded more shells into the unlucky foes that surrounded the driver side door, pushing them back farther and farther.

    He quickly opened the door and heaved himself on top of the sedan, loading the shotgun with more rounds as the slow moving bodies moaned towards the vehicle again with greater numbers. His tank top was now blood stained, the stench tickling Derik’s nostrils with the pungent odor of rusted iron, further fueling his euphoria. He unloaded more rounds into the hoard again and again until he ran out of shells, throwing the weapon into the hoard. He drew his rifle, expertly taking heads off the Lifeless that entered his scope in a bloody firefight.

    Derik noticed that the Lifeless were beginning to climb onto the sedan, hungrily gnashing and swiping for their food. When he was dry of rifle bullets, he took the butt of the rifle and began batting the shells of once humans, cracking some of the skulls. When he saw it fit, he threw the gun javelin-style, piercing a Lifeless through a rotted eye socket.

    He screamed with a bloody roar as he drew the 9mm’s from the holsters and unloaded clip after clip into the head of the corpses, his whole body now covered in the blood of his victims. Derik’s hair was matted down with blood as tears burned in his eyes he unloaded the final clips into a few more Lifeless. He threw the pistols away and drew the Desert Eagle, the slugs colliding with the flesh with a sickening squishing noise.

    Even with the last clip falling from the pistol, Derik knew he had exacted his revenge and was now free from the nightmare. He fell to his knees on the roof of the sedan, holding the Eagle in both hands as Lifeless slowly heaved themselves onto the hood.

    Derik laughed as he remembered that he forgot to leave a bullet for himself. He laugh even louder when he suddenly realized that the Lifeless were so close he could smell the flesh on their breath.

    He clenched the ashes of his lover as the Lifeless grabbed at him, feeling their clammy, dead flesh on his blood streaked body.

    “I’ll meet you soon, love…”

    As they dug their teeth into Derik’s skin, he closed his eyes, washed over with peace.

    ***

    “PRIVATE!!!”

    Derik felt a wet smack across his face as he awoke to explosions and gunfire. He let his eyes adjust before he could see his commanding officer shaking him. The commander had an assault rifle draped across his chest, with his sweaty hands holding onto Derik’s shoulders. His helmet had the familiar ‘Git R Done’ patch poorly sewn into the fabric covering the hard shell. The commander’s eyes had a look of concern, along with anger as he found Derik asleep.

    “Private! Get the hell up! Insurgents are attacking our safe zone and we need more men! Get suited up and get ready for any those sons of bitches that get through!” The commander barked at Derik.

    “Yes, sir!” Derik quickly replied.

    When the commander entered the field outside Derik’s quarters, Derik tried to remember the nightmare he just had. It seemed too real and eerily similar…

    Derik stuck the nightmare deep inside himself and suited up. As he held his assault rifle, the fetish’s high covered him a blanket of warmth and comfort, taking the place of any worry he had before.

    Before he left towards the battlefield, Derik remembered his lucky charm. He reached under the pillow of his cot and brought out the pouch of ashes of Jenna’s remains. He draped it around his neck, kissed it, and whispered “I love you”, remembering the letter it came with stating, from her parents, that she died in a auto accident. He has never been without it ever since.

    And he never forgot or lost his love for her.

    Shouldering the rifle, Derik ran into the battlefield of his own demons and memories, smiling knowing Jenna was with him.

    He was finally free…

    ***