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    Big Pulp: Lot's Crawlers
    Big Pulp: Lot's Crawlers
    Big Pulp: Lot's Crawlers
    Ebook235 pages3 hours

    Big Pulp: Lot's Crawlers

    By Big Pulp

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    A string of grisly murders and missing persons cases puts a young police officer at risk of becoming food for worms in "Lot's Crawlers" by Joel V. Kela, the featured story in the Winter 2012 issue of Big Pulp (cover art by Ken Knudtsen). This issue also features Michael Andre-Driussi's alternative history "Hitler's Hollywood", in which Rita Hayworth's career takes a strange turn and alters the course of WWII, and "Children of an Angry Sea", a horror tale set in the aftermath of a major Pacific tsunami, by Michael D. Turner. In all, this issue features more than 25 stories and poems, including work by Patricia La Barbera, David Birch, KJ Hannah Greenberg, L.B. Sedlacek, William Doreski, Gerri Leen, Terrie Leigh Relf, Brian Trent, Walter Giersbach, Emanuele Pettener, DeAnna Knippling, F.J. Bergmann, Sean McGrath, Benjamin Kensey, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Holger Nahm, Catherine Boyle, Tony Haynes, and Fred Skolnik.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBig Pulp
    Release dateDec 22, 2012
    ISBN9781301473359
    Big Pulp: Lot's Crawlers
    Author

    Big Pulp

    Since 2008, Big Pulp has published the best in fantastic fiction from around the globe. We publish periodicals - including Big Pulp, Child of Words, M, and Thirst - and themed anthologies.

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      Book preview

      Big Pulp - Big Pulp

      Big Pulp Winter 2012

      Lot’s Crawlers

      Exter Press

      Bill Olver, editor

      Bill Boslego, associate editor (editorial)

      Phil Good, associate editor (art direction)

      Big Pulp Vol. 3, No. 4 (whole issue #7)

      December 2012

      ISSN 2167-6046 (print)

      ISSN 2167-6054 (electronic)

      Big Pulp is published quarterly in March, June, September and December by Exter Press. All credited material is copyright by the author(s). All other material © 2012 Exter Press

      The stories and poems in this magazine are fictitious and any resemblance between the characters in them and any persons living or dead—without satirical intent—is purely coincidental.

      Reproduction or use of any written or pictorial content without the permission of the editors or authors is strictly forbidden, with the exception of fair use for review purposes.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

      Thank you for respecting the hard work of our writers.

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      HORROR

      Lot’s Crawlers by Joel V. Kela

      Stereotyping Zombies by Patricia La Barbera

      Thank You for Your Attention to This Splatter by Patricia La Barbera

      The Coffin Maker by Patricia La Barbera

      The Morning After by David Birch

      Children of an Angry Sea by Michael D. Turner

      Indigestion by KJ Hannah Greenberg

      Ghost Talkers by L.B. Sedlacek

      Cruising the Mediterranean by William Doreski

      A Glass Coffin by William Doreski

      Stalling Our Elopement by William Doreski

      SCIENCE FICTION

      Hitler’s Hollywood by Michael Andre-Druissi

      Failure to Communicate by Gerri Leen

      We Only Took a Few Cuttings by Terrie Leigh Relf

      News Alert! December 21, 2012 is Upon Us… by Terrie Leigh Relf

      Can You Tell Me The Way to Haven? by Brian Trent

      ROMANCE

      Flying Objects by Walter Giersbach

      The Complete Works of Ellery Queen by Emanuel Pettener (Tom Di Salvo, translator)

      FANTASY

      Inside Out by DeAnna Knippling

      Ethnicity by F.J. Bergmann

      Chubby Chaser by Sean McGrath

      The Weight of the Wish by Benjamine Kensey

      King Me by David C. Kopaska-Merkel

      Hero’s Feast by Holger Nahm

      MYSTERY

      Take One, Before Bed by Catherine Boyle

      Thicker Than Water by Tony Haynes

      Noir by Fred Skolnik

      Cover illustration by Ken Knudtsen

      Joel V. Kela is a PhD student studying New Testament in Dallas, TX. He is married to a better girl than he deserves, has three surprising kids, and goes kiteboarding whenever he can. He has had stories published in Fear and Trembling Magazine, NewMyths.com, and Mytherium: Tales of Mythical and Magical Creatures, by Indigo Mosaic Publishing. You can visit Joel’s home on the web at acrosseyesky.com.

      ______________

      LOT’S CRAWLERS

      Their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched;

      and they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh.

      —Isaiah 66:24

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      The old man had been strangled, that was for sure.

      He lay sprawled face down in the dinghy, his fishing pole gone and the dirt from his worm container scattered all over the bottom. The two inches of rain they’d gotten overnight had turned this to muddy water, and it sloshed back and forth like coffee as Josh put one foot on the gunnel for a better look.

      Sure enough, the red line of bruise ran all around the old man’s neck just as bright as could be.

      A garrote, Josh thought. Gosh darn it.

      He stepped off the dock and walked up the boat ramp to their squad car. Willie was leaning on the hood with pad and pencil in hand, talking to the college girl who’d found the boat. You did good, Ma’am, he was saying. I know it’s not easy."

      She glanced up at Josh as he approached. Yeah.

      Josh tried not to sound self-conscious. Did you see anyone else out there with him yesterday?

      She lit a cigarette. Didn’t see. Ed usually goes out there with some guy. His nephew, I think.

      Willie took down the name while Josh turned around and looked again at the water. It was one of half a hundred such inland lakes in Marquette County—lined with pines and summer cottages and saunas. Memorial Day was three weeks away though, and—as he’d learned last spring—in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan that meant summer was still wishful thinking.

      He sighed. Nobody had probably seen anything.

      But it still wouldn’t hurt to check.

      He was halfway to the first cabin when he remembered the worms. Maybe the guy at the bait store would know if the victim had been fishing with someone. Josh went back out to the dinghy and felt around under the seats until he found the plastic tub. He turned it over in his hands.

      Below a grinning cartoon earthworm it bore two words—Lot’s Crawlers.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      When the homicide detective had finished and the ambulance had picked up the dead fisherman, Josh and Willie took the cruiser and began bouncing up the lake road toward M-35. The jack pines pressed in on both sides.

      Willie flashed him a grin. So. Should we arrest the girl yet, or do you want to wait till you can get her alone?

      Josh felt his cheeks flush, but he refused to rise to the bait. Willie was better than the other guys, but not even he would let Josh forget about that debacle last summer. Looked like a garrote.

      Willie sighed. The anchor rope was about the right size. He turned the car out onto the highway. Must have caught more than the other guy. I can relate.

      Josh stared at the mobile homes as they whipped by. So that’s the first murder since I’ve been here. Grand Rapids was where Josh had been posted when he got out of the state police academy, and while Grand Rapids was no Detroit, they’d had enough homicides. But up here it was mostly petty stuff and domestic violence. And one other thing.

      Well, yeah, Willie said. We had a handful of missing persons the summer before you got up here. A couple locals and a few college kids right from the Hiawatha festival. He looked over. That’s why we’ve still got the FBI office.

      Josh knew all about it. Gone cold.

      Willie nodded. Too easy to hide the bodies. Especially if you’ve got a boat. But maybe they just swam to Canada.

      When they reached the Kwik Stop at the light Josh remembered the worms. Hey, pull in for a second. I need to use the restroom.

      He left Willie with the car running while he went up to the door. Just over the stacked bags of deer corn was a sign in the window for Lot’s Crawlers. He went to the back to keep up appearances, picked out a pack of gum, and walked up the middle-aged cashier who looked like she should be wearing a NASCAR jacket.

      Excuse me, Ma’am, but did Ed Aho stop in here for bait yesterday?

      She smiled at him. Sure did, hon.

      Do you remember if he was alone? Anyone with him? He put his gum and debit card down on the scanner.

      Don’t think so. She rang up his gum. At least I didn’t see. You want a receipt?

      No, thanks. He took the bag, and his eyes moved to the white refrigerator up against the window. And the prices taped to the front. Fifteen dollars? For worms?

      She turned and looked. That’s for Lot’s Crawlers. Regular crawlers are three for twelve, earthworms three for thirty-six.

      Why so expensive for Lot’s?

      She grinned at him. Them’s award-winning worms. She tapped the sticker on the fridge door that said so. Bigger, so fish love ‘em. Catch three times as much.

      Josh shook his head. Well alright. Thanks.

      She nodded, and he left.

      Did she say yes? Willie asked when he got in.

      What?

      The date. You asked her out, right?

      Josh buckled his seatbelt and stared out the window all the way back to Negaunee.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      TV6 said they didn’t know what killed him. Mark let loose with a lawn dart, and they both watched it arc up and land just outside the circle.

      Nice. Josh put down his Dr. Thunder and picked up his first dart. Well, they don’t tell them much at first. He was strangled though. He gave a toss and his dart went long.

      Mark scratched his belly under his shirt—some metal band with a pig and hammers. You think it’s a serial killer?

      No. Definitely not. He threw again.

      What do you think then?

      I don’t know. Josh regretted even bringing it up. Mark was a nice kid, but he ran his mouth off too much and hunted ghosts and believed in Bigfoot—who knew who he might tell? Josh wasn’t supposed to talk about this stuff anyway. He tossed his last one and it hit a rock or something because it didn’t even stick. They walked over to pick up their darts. So—you ever go fishing?

      Mark shrugged. My dad used to take me out on the basin.

      We should go sometime.

      Mark grinned. That just sounds creepy. Where were you last night anyway?

      Oh, you know. He bent down and collected the darts.

      I’ve got time for another round.

      No, you don’t.

      Mark looked at the time on his cell phone. Oh, shit!

      Josh frowned.

      Sorry. Mark grabbed his blue vest and ran for the driveway. Save more, live better!

      Josh stood there for a while and watched the college kids playing volleyball behind the building. Finally he sighed and went back to his apartment, poured himself a glass of ice-water, and sat down with his Sudoku puzzles.

      His neck itched.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      The next morning his cell phone went off when he was in the shower. He slipped trying to open the door and picked up just before it went to voicemail.

      Willie’s voice sounded tinny and low. We’ve got another one.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      His wife found him. Willie looked away and ran his fingers through his hair. Shoulda seen it. You shoulda seen it. He shook his head.

      Josh watched as the paramedics bumped the gurney up into the ambulance. They cut out his eyes?

      Like someone took an egg-beater to them. Willie flicked his fingers. Bam. Then jammed something right back through the sockets. God. It was like jelly all over his hands.

      His hands?

      Yeah. Willie lit a cigarette.

      Josh patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and walked across the clearing.

      Jeremy met him at the door. Toppers, he said—but without any humor.

      Josh stepped inside and froze.

      Sarah was dusting the place for prints.

      She stood across the cabin—facing away from him—bent over the window sill as she worked. Immediately his pulse quickened and his palms began to sweat. Sarah had brown hair and a good body, and she was shorter than him—which was saying a lot. She was always nice to him, and he knew that she volunteered at the animal shelter.

      Oh, hi, Sarah, he said—hating the words as they came out of his mouth. Idiot.

      But she just looked over her shoulder and smiled. Hey, Josh. She kept dusting. What’s up?

      Oh, not much. He tucked his thumbs into his gun belt and rocked back on his heels, trying to look nonchalant, trying not to think about the flecks of red and white all over the floor by the bed. Find anything there?

      Some. Not sure if they’re fresh.

      Yeah. Josh realized he was staring at her bottom and made himself look away.

      The hunting cabin featured a pot-belly stove, two stuffed walleyes over the table, and an antique refrigerator with a silver handle. A bag from the IGA sat on the counter, and when he went over to peer inside he noticed that the fridge was open a crack. Was the door like this when they found it?

      She smiled at him again. Don’t know.

      Is it okay if I open it?

      At her nod he took his handkerchief from his pocket and pulled the door open.

      He saw it there on the top shelf, wedged between the icebox and a half-gallon of milk.

      Lot’s Crawlers, the sticker said. Award Winning Worms.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      Josh and Willie sat in the cruiser and ate their pasties on the pullout by Teal Lake. Josh kept thinking about Sarah. And those worms. Why would someone keep a container of dirt in their fridge without any worms in it?

      Willie shrugged as he tore open a ketchup packet. Maybe he thought he had more. Maybe they crawled out.

      For some reason all the hairs on the back of Josh’s neck stood up.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      That afternoon an empty boat washed up on the M-28 beach.

      The Coast Guard called it in, and the dispatcher sent available units to check license plates at all the marinas. Josh and Willie hit the lower harbor and were headed north along the beach when word came that they’d found the vehicle out at Grand Marais. Out of state plates. Illinois. A man and his son, the harbor master said.

      Josh felt stupid and embarrassed, but when he got off duty he stopped by the Coast Guard station beside the Maritime Museum. Did you find any fishing worms in there? he asked one of the guys who had towed the boat back. Lot’s Crawlers?

      The sailor looked up from his laptop. Ah, yeah. A couple of them. Dumped out all over the bottom.

      Did you see any worms, or just the dirt?

      He shrugged. I don’t know. You can go look if you like—we moored it down back.

      Josh thanked him and made his way down to the docks. The boat was a twenty-eight foot Bayliner. He found dirt all over the seats and the floor.

      He found no worms.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      On his way home he stopped by the bait shop on Wright Street.

      He pretended to inspect the life preservers until finally making his way to the refrigerator. He opened the door and took down one of Lot’s white tubs. Trying not to notice how his hands trembled, he held it at arm’s length and cracked the lid.

      Holy cow.

      The worms were clustered all together on top of the dirt—glistening with mucus—and they were big and tinged with red. The smallest was still as thick as his little finger, but they were shorter than was proportional, so they looked squat—like breakfast sausages. One worm lifted up like a periscope and eased over the side of the tub.

      Josh shoved it back and closed the lid. He shuddered and walked up to the counter.

      The storekeeper pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled. That’ll be twelve thirty-six. As Josh counted out some bills, the man tapped the tub. Shouldn’t have any trouble with these.

      Why’s that?

      The dealer came by and replaced them all this morning. Said they’d gone bad.

      Josh froze. He said they’d gone bad?

      Yep. The shopkeeper smiled and put the tub into a paper bag. He rolled the top of the bag down tight against the tub and handed it to Josh. But you should be fine. Good luck!

      Josh returned to the car and sat staring at the bag on the seat next to him. Finally he started the car, drove to Wal-Mart, and bought a green fire safe the size of a briefcase. He locked the worms inside and drove back to his apartment.

      ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

      Mark leaned back in his chair and stared at him. You think the worms did it?

      Josh forced a laugh. No, not at all. It’s just that—

      Dude, that’s awesome. The worms strangled the one guy and ate the other guy’s eyes! That’s like X-Files shit!

      Josh frowned.

      Ah, right. But—that’s awesome! You’re gonna be on TV!

      It’s a stupid theory. Of course, they had Lot’s Crawlers. They were fishermen, and those are the best worms.

      Mark took another handful of Doritos. Yes. But three dead in one day? And the dude said they’d gone bad? He

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