fire.
The chili was divine. He gobbled it down licking the inside of the bowl and went back inside for more. He hadn't yet stepped inside before he knew something was wrong. Stomach cramps nearly doubled him over with pain. He went into the bathroom and tried to make himself throw up, but very little came out and he had to spin around quickly to void from the other end. "Damn!" he yelled out. Must have gone bad. Hopefully it was just some little bug and not something serious like botulism. He didn't have any medications for food poisoning, another stupid mistake he had made. How could he possibly be this dumb and still be alive, he asked.
Sam climbed slowly out of the confined toilet and went to turn the stove off and actually did succeed in throwing up into the sink and then couldn't seem to stop dry heaving. Brown liquid and undigested beans looked back up at him accusingly . Sam's knees were wobbly and he had to grab the edge of the sink to hold himself upright.
He needed to lie down for a little bit and then he'd be okay he reasoned. Sam gingerly made his way over to the unkempt bed and let himself drop onto the soft surface. His breathing was heavy and he started to shiver with fever. "This is bad," he said out loud before throwing up all over the floor.
*******
People were in the camper with him. Scary people. Whispering fluttering shadows hovering around his bed. The Pack was nowhere to be seen. Sam lifted his head and was instantly racked by pain and nausea. He almost laughed, was this really how it was going to end?
A face materialized out of the shimmering darkness. It was Barbara his daughter, but she looked dark and in distress, not quite real like before.
"Darling?" Sam asked holding out his hand.
The shape moved forward, but didn't take his hand, "We waited for you daddy. It was so scary, but we knew you would come for us, but you never did."
Sam felt like he was choking, "I was...I was trying to get to you. It was-"
"We died terrified and alone because of you," said the face with venom.
He was angry now, "You're not real. You're not my daughter. You're just the delirium, or my guilt, or bad freaking chili!"
Barbara's face vanished, but the shape remained and Rachel took her place.
"How you feel baby?" she asked.
Sam smiled, "Not good, this might be it."
"Not yet," she said. "You're not done."
"I think so. It's been fun and all, but I'm tired of being afraid and alone. Tired of doing nothing for no reason. Tired of living and just waiting to die."
She reached out to caress his cheek and he could almost feel her, "You would leave us there in our house, our bodies to never know a proper burial or rest. You would walk past our home a dozen times and not love us enough to overcome your own fear and weakness. Is that really the sort of husband and father you are? Is that really the sort of man you are?"
He started to answer, but the shape moved away into the mass of swirling darkness moving around the other end of the camper. Sam even thought he saw the crazed boy he had killed with the baseball bat a lifetime ago.
"I'm delirious," he said. "Probably dehydrated too. Need water."
With a herculean effort, he pulled himself upwards and swung his feet to the floor. He stood and almost slipped and fell on his own smelly puke. Sam made his way carefully over to the sink and turned on the faucet and cupped water into his mouth using his hand. His body sucked up the moisture, but his stomach immediately wanted to expel the liquid.
He looked out the window and saw the fire outside burned down low. All the dogs were piled together around Scotch on the blanket. He had shut the camper door the last time he came in which was why they weren't in here with him. Sam loved his pack, they would have chased away these demons if they were here with him.
His eyes caught the bottle of rum again and a memory stirred. Years ago he had gone on a bu siness trip to Romania where the locals would not let any meal pass
The chili was divine. He gobbled it down licking the inside of the bowl and went back inside for more. He hadn't yet stepped inside before he knew something was wrong. Stomach cramps nearly doubled him over with pain. He went into the bathroom and tried to make himself throw up, but very little came out and he had to spin around quickly to void from the other end. "Damn!" he yelled out. Must have gone bad. Hopefully it was just some little bug and not something serious like botulism. He didn't have any medications for food poisoning, another stupid mistake he had made. How could he possibly be this dumb and still be alive, he asked.
Sam climbed slowly out of the confined toilet and went to turn the stove off and actually did succeed in throwing up into the sink and then couldn't seem to stop dry heaving. Brown liquid and undigested beans looked back up at him accusingly . Sam's knees were wobbly and he had to grab the edge of the sink to hold himself upright.
He needed to lie down for a little bit and then he'd be okay he reasoned. Sam gingerly made his way over to the unkempt bed and let himself drop onto the soft surface. His breathing was heavy and he started to shiver with fever. "This is bad," he said out loud before throwing up all over the floor.
*******
People were in the camper with him. Scary people. Whispering fluttering shadows hovering around his bed. The Pack was nowhere to be seen. Sam lifted his head and was instantly racked by pain and nausea. He almost laughed, was this really how it was going to end?
A face materialized out of the shimmering darkness. It was Barbara his daughter, but she looked dark and in distress, not quite real like before.
"Darling?" Sam asked holding out his hand.
The shape moved forward, but didn't take his hand, "We waited for you daddy. It was so scary, but we knew you would come for us, but you never did."
Sam felt like he was choking, "I was...I was trying to get to you. It was-"
"We died terrified and alone because of you," said the face with venom.
He was angry now, "You're not real. You're not my daughter. You're just the delirium, or my guilt, or bad freaking chili!"
Barbara's face vanished, but the shape remained and Rachel took her place.
"How you feel baby?" she asked.
Sam smiled, "Not good, this might be it."
"Not yet," she said. "You're not done."
"I think so. It's been fun and all, but I'm tired of being afraid and alone. Tired of doing nothing for no reason. Tired of living and just waiting to die."
She reached out to caress his cheek and he could almost feel her, "You would leave us there in our house, our bodies to never know a proper burial or rest. You would walk past our home a dozen times and not love us enough to overcome your own fear and weakness. Is that really the sort of husband and father you are? Is that really the sort of man you are?"
He started to answer, but the shape moved away into the mass of swirling darkness moving around the other end of the camper. Sam even thought he saw the crazed boy he had killed with the baseball bat a lifetime ago.
"I'm delirious," he said. "Probably dehydrated too. Need water."
With a herculean effort, he pulled himself upwards and swung his feet to the floor. He stood and almost slipped and fell on his own smelly puke. Sam made his way carefully over to the sink and turned on the faucet and cupped water into his mouth using his hand. His body sucked up the moisture, but his stomach immediately wanted to expel the liquid.
He looked out the window and saw the fire outside burned down low. All the dogs were piled together around Scotch on the blanket. He had shut the camper door the last time he came in which was why they weren't in here with him. Sam loved his pack, they would have chased away these demons if they were here with him.
His eyes caught the bottle of rum again and a memory stirred. Years ago he had gone on a bu siness trip to Romania where the locals would not let any meal pass
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