Christmas Trees & Monkeys Read Free Page B

hook.
     
    * * *
     
    Laraby thought he heard shouts behind him, but knew they had to be from inside. The top of the coffin was engulfed completely in flame. The layers of polish had melted, leaving the wood along the sides to blacken and pop. Once the majority of the box was free of the doors the old man grabbed the burning lid. The pain in his hands was instant and immense. He let go and grabbed once more for the grappling hook. His palms sizzled against its handle. He allowed himself a short high-pitched scream. Then he noticed the coffin’s latch was open. Why the hell hadn’t he seen that before? Above him, fire and smoke licked at the cement roof. The sprinklers did not react, but the fire alarms screamed in panic.
    “ Come on, oh God this is insane.” The coffin just kept burning. Heart smashing in his chest, he maneuvered the hook under the edge of the lid and pulled. The melted hinges fought him every inch. Laraby howled with the effort and the constant pain. The burning lid raised completely.
    What he saw in the coffin made him stop. Benchman’s body lay sprawled atop a young boy. It wasn’t Kinsley. The fire spread to the coffin’s lining. Cursing, he flung the dead man away. An arm landed in the fire; the dark jacket’s sleeve glowed with red burning spots then ignited.
    The kid was heavy, dead weight. Laraby worked his arms under the shoulders and pulled. The side of the coffin was as hot as coals, searing his knees. The boy’s legs caught on the lower lid. Laraby slipped and fell onto the floor. He clambered back to his feet, reached into the burning coffin and gripped the boy by the shirt. Beside him, the corpse itself was lighting up. Chemicals pumped through veins to replace blood now burned like gasoline. Laraby pulled the boy from the coffin head first. Together they crashed to the floor.
    Black smoke filled the room halfway to the floor. Laraby leaned closer to the boy, but heard no breathing. His fingers were too blistered to look for a pulse. He opened Patrick’s mouth and exhaled into it. Once, it seemed, was enough. The boy gasped in the burning air, then coughed with such violence his body twisted on the floor like an epileptic’s.
    The old man crawled to the door and opened it, hand disappearing into the smoke when he reached for the knob. He pulled the twisting body of the boy out of the room.
     
    * * *
     
    Smoke drifted under the window; black clouds obscured everything beyond. Jacob wobbled side to side, searching for a break through which to see what was happening. Useless. He found the metal bar; held his breath and propped open the window. Smoke poured into his face. He flattened himself against the ground, coughing once out of reflex. As soon as the cloud beyond the window was spent enough, he raised his head and looked inside.
    The wood of the coffin was a blackened, burning log. Within, the crackling bones of Mister Benchman separated from each other as the final licks of flame disintegrated tendons and muscle. Freed of restraint, the skull turned sideways. Jacob stared into two pillars of smoke drifting from the eye sockets. He gripped the tall, neglected grass below the window in an attempt to control his fear. “Where is he?” he whispered. “What did you do with him?” As if to answer, the skeleton’s jaw dropped open in a flaming mockery of laughter.
    Jacob scurried backwards without taking his eyes from the window. “Come on, Kenny. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
    The other boy did not respond. He lay face down, the rock still resting against his head.
    “ Kenny?”
    A few minutes later, the first fire truck screamed into the yard. In the hellish red glow of the emergency lights, Jacob knelt beside his friend and howled into the night.
     
     
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    About “AM”
    There are generally two types of stories I tend to write. Slam! Bang! Aaaaaahhh! Meat and Potatoes kind of horror, like the previous story. Then there are the ones I sometimes