De Pew - Something is Out There

A Collection of Dark Fiction

By Jeff DePew

For Mary Beth, who read all my stories, even though she doesnt like horror.

Something is Out There, A Collection of Dark Fiction

Copyright 2018 by Jeff DePew

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between real life events and people, and the events within this product are purely coincidental.

Print and Digital License Notes

This print and/or eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This print and/or eBook may not be resold, bartered, or loaned to others.

An imprint of Surtr Books

ISBN: 978-1-7325310-0-0

ISBN-13: 978-1-7325310-0-0

www.jdepewauthor.com

surtrbooks.com

Grateful acknowledgement is made by the author to the editors of the following books, where many of these stories were originally published.

Shut Down, by Jeff DePew, first appeared in Never Fear: The Apocalypse (13Thirty Books, 2017).

Something is Out There (original title: Wheel of Fortune) by Jeff DePew, first appeared in Never Fear: The Tarot (13Thirty Books, 2016).

Ancient Aliens, by Jeff DePew, first appeared in Uncharted Worlds: Xeno Encounters (13Thirty Books, 2016).

Same Time, Next Year by Jeff DePew, first appeared in Romantic Times: Vegas Volume 2(13Thirty Books, 2016).

Thanatophobia by Jeff DePew, first appeared in Never Fear-Phobias (13Thirty Books, 2015).

Secret Satan first appeared in Never Fear-Christmas Terror (13Thirty Books, 2015).

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Shut Down

C allie

A gust of wind swept through the darkened neighborhood, sending a flurry of leaves spinning in its wake. Some of the leaves spilled up against garbage cans left beside driveways; others piled against car tires and windshields. And more leaves, brown and yellow and orange, buffeted against the desiccated corpses that lay in the street, on the sidewalk, or on front lawns of empty houses.

A young girl walked down the middle of the street, pushing a jogging stroller. Her long, brown hair was tied up in a braid beneath her Seattle Mariners baseball cap. She wore a denim jacket and an oversized backpack. Around her right wrist was a leather dog leash she had found. The leash trailed several feet behind her, where it was clipped to the belt of a slightly older boy who followed her, occasionally slowing, only to be jerked forward with a gentle tug.

Her name was Callie, she was twelve years old, and she was walking through Oregon to find her grandmother in California.

The only sounds were their footsteps and an occasional murmur from the baby. She still hadnt named him. She had been thinking of Sam, or maybe Ryan. That was had been her fathers name. The thought of her father pressed down on her like a weight. Another cinder block thrown into her backpack. Remembering was like that. Thinking about her mom, her dad, their house. Their life together. Life in general. Life before. Cinder blocks. Cinder blocks that weighed her down. Kept her from moving on. But you couldn't forget. You couldnt just pretend like nothing had existed before IT. That was no solution.

A loud squawk from the stroller broke her out of her thoughts.

She stopped and reached down and pulled back the blanket so she could look at the baby. He was holding a jar of baby food (sweet potato and peas, it looked like) with two chubby hands and trying to bite the lid, his baby logic telling him this was the best way to get the contents of the jar into his mouth. His eyes widened and he smiled wetly up at her when he saw her.

Hungry? she smiled back at him. Callie turned to her brother, Jake, who was slowly shuffling forward, his eyes vacant and staring. How about you? she asked, expecting (and getting) no response. You ready for some dinner?

She took a swig of water from a metal bottle fastened to her backpack. She yawned and stretched, twisting from side to side, glanced around at the houses. The nights were getting chillier, and she wanted to find shelter for the night. She preferred the houses with no cars in the driveways. That generally meant no one had been home when IT happened, so there were no bodies on the houses. Not always, but usually.

***

S he decided on a one -story house, blue, with white trim. There was no car in the driveway, and the front door was undamaged. It was very rare that she found a house where there had been obvious damage and/or looting. So rare in fact that she rarely even thought about it anymore. There had to be people to loot, and since there were hardly any people...

Some part of her wished there were more signs of other people. A busted-in front door, or a campfire burning at night in the distance. But nothing. She hadnt seen anyone other than Jake and the babyhis name is Ryanfor over a week.

Anyone alive , she thought glumly.

She wheeled the stroller up the driveway and around the side of the house to a wooden gate taller than her by a good two feet. She tried the metal latch. It opened, and she carefully pushed the gate open and led her brother inside and pulled the stroller behind her. She turned and latched the gate, bent down and picked up a twig, and stuck it in the hole where the padlock would go. It wouldnt keep out a determined trespasser, but Jake wouldnt be able to get out, even if he wanted to. And it would keep dogs out.

She slipped the leash off her wrist and reached over and unsnapped the metal clip from his belt. Okay, buddy. Youre free. She stood and watched him. No reaction. No smile, no walking forward, no nothing. She sighed and checked on the baby. He was fussing a little, but hed be okay for a few more minutes.

Callie tried a side door and it opened easily. She glanced once more at Jake and the baby. They werent going anywhere. She pulled out a flashlight from a pocket in her backpack and slipped inside. She scanned the room. A kitchen. Neat and orderly. Tile floors and counters now covered with a fine film of dust. She sniffed deeply. The sickly-sweet smell of rotting fruit, and beneath that a fouler smell emanating from the refrigerator. No way she was opening that. She'd learned the hard way not to open refrigerators. The smell was ungodly.

She knelt, and using her flashlight, carefully scanned the counter and corners for rat droppings. She hated rats, and since... IT... they seemed to be almost everywhere. But this looked okay. No little, black, telltale signs.