The Dorley Cycle XXVII

*Warning* (should have put that way, way before) mild gruesomeness and swearing.


First segment

It’s only a siren’s song baby

 Part I ; Part II ; Part III ; Part IV


Second segment:

Hey there Mr. Cthulhu

Part V ;  Part VI ; Part VII ; Part VIII ; Part IX ; Part X ;

Third segment:

Got some toxic truth?

Part XIPart XIIPart XIII

Fourth segment:

Squid Kings and Greek Fires

Part XIV ; Part XV ; Part XVI ; Part XVII ; Part XVIII ; Part XIX ; Part XX ; Part XXI; Part XXII;Part XXIII ; Part XXIV

Fifth segment:

Welcome to Dorley, Population: O

Part XXV ; Part XXVI

AND FOR A LITTLE COMIC STYLE TREAT: Homecoming & Hey There Mr. Cthulhu ; A Short Portrait 




I saw them, bare footed and plain dressed, 1986 coming back alive and well through my tipped over world and smudgy view. I recognized the white dress of the lady monster I’d met at trailer park and saw her aborted, purplish wasted arms hanging loose from underneath her red stained gown, dragging dried suckers on the dirt; a dead embryo still attached to its sickly mother. Another pair of legs belonged to one of the men, absent-minded and eyes rolled up. I raised myself, trying to back away from them and their mindlessness.

“I’ll let them tear you to pieces, because frankly that’s what they’re good for.”

But their panting and incomprehensible moans caught the whiff of another bleeder. Stephens stumbled out of the alley fingers scratching out skull pieces from the side of his head. The creatures took him for bait.

“What the fuck, what the actual fuck?!?” he screamed a high-pitched noise, walking uneven lines while his brain leaked out and I closed my eyes as his face  froze in the twist and snap of his neck and he dropped, before Kevana could breathe a word. The freak in the short jeans that had twisted his head lowered himself to the body and the fat female did so too, poking holes with hardened fingers, trained to find cavities one way or another and fill the disease of sick little squid creatures. They were fuckin’ dumb and it angered me they’d been Guy and Paulie’s friends once, standing on that same beach Anne Henderson got her life fucked and sucked out of her. So maybe they deserved this.

Eli shot aside, pulling away from distracted Kevana and wrested the gun from the clutched fingers of the officer, still looking back at the corpse and at the approaching trailer park freak all rotten teeth and horror, looking seemingly lost and excited at the same time. Eli took his chances and bit Kevana, drawing blood from his fingers, and he dropped the gun with a clatter. To me it was all slow motion, how the kid got fast, fear giving him speed and courage and he threw himself, snatching the gun first. He fired clumsily hitting the coming monster who fell back, but the next one went through Kevana’s head. He took the ground knees first then spread on his side and didn’t move again. Eli still held the gun, looking at it with absent eyes.

“Shoot her too”, I told him.

He went slow and towered above the woman hunched over Stephens body, trying plan B to infect him, to put the dead arm inside his mouth and not understanding why it still didn’t work.

“I don’t think there are any more bullets left.”

I watched his back and his hand weighting the gun at the nape of her neck.


“I don’t want to pull it.” He sounded distant and I feared I lost him there, finally giving in to all the madness.

“If you want to live you pull that trigger now Eli. Pull it and we’ll be safe.”

The shot echoed. He dropped the gun and came back, lifting me off the ground and resuming his carry.

“We’ll take his car over there Jackson, hang on just a little longer, yeah?”

Eli kept sounding fake, muttering about the car and I half-nodded, more concentrated on hearing my own voice being called all of a sudden.

Where Kevana had looked aside, in the crumble of a building, taken down to shatters of wall and glass, that’s where the muffled call was coming from. There it was again, but not in my mind; it was real, weak, but real. I heard it again, the echo of it, “jackson, jackson, jackson” slurred over and over. I derailed, detaching myself from Eli’s support and searched the dark corners and the danger zone ahead, thinking of exploded bottles of fuel and shattered houses, pubs and glasses and fabric from a red checked shirt imagining hallucinations calling me. Then I saw him stuck under a collapsed pile of concrete boulders and iron rods sticking out. Paulie’s eyes found me and the corner of his mouth itched up into a half-smile.

Chapter XXVIII


6 thoughts on “The Dorley Cycle XXVII

  1. I just knew those slamming car doors meant bad news for Jackson.

    This episode is deliciously visceral, the first paragraph actually made me squirm a little with images of what that woman must have looked like.

    All through this serial I have bounced back and forth like a tennis ball taking trying to second guess whether Jackson will actually survive in the end, and I’m still not sure which side I would lay my money on.

    • Awful I’d imagine. It’s more frightening I think, aside from the vision, that this is a real human existing in this sort of state and still capable of functioning, beyond reason and all.

      I did have at some point thoughts about killing him, but then again I like the guy. He’s the character I’ve never had till now. I ain’t letting him go that easy!

  2. This is delightfully disgusting, reeking as it does of zombie mayhem. The terrifying mechanics, “poking holes with hardened fingers, trained to find cavities one way or another,” paired with gross pitiableness, “trying to…put the dead arm inside his mouth and not understanding why it still didn’t work” puts one in such a uniquely awkward situation, one we oughtn’t to relish, but do. Like the last pathetic vestiges of Guy, we hope, but no. In the brilliantly written last paragraph, there is Paulie.

    • I’m incredibly glad I brough back the faulty trailer park monsters. After all they are a tad bit scarier, very much forgotten and rotting inside their skins. Ugh. Delightfully disgusting as you so well put it.

      And yes, then there’s Paulie, good ol’ Paulie. I’m going to miss him.

      Thank you Miss A. for commenting, I know it’s a lot and long.

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