Creep [A Short Horror Story]

“Man, there she is,” George exclaimed, more to himself than to anyone else. “She’s beautiful!” Chimed Harry, staring intently in the same direction as his brother. “That’s it, today’s the day. I’m going to talk to her.” George spoke in the tone of a man about to leap into some great, glorious battle - stealing himself for what was to come. “Yea, go talk to her!” Harold excitedly exclaimed, his eagerness to see his brother happy immediately apparent. “I’m sure she’ll like you, as long as she just gives you chance!” Harold beamed at his brother, genuine love and affection oozing out of each one of his carefully chosen words. “Of course she will, idiot!” George snapped, staring at Harold down the end of his nose. “She’ll have to, I’ll make sure of that. And then once I’ve got her wrapped around my little finger, all those sycophants of hers will be soon to follow!” George explained to his brother, a brief twinkle of hopeful optimism gleaming forth from his eyes. “And then we’ll be the cool guys, huh George?” George looked down at his brother for a moment and snickered. “Oh yeah, we’ll be the cool ones, for sure, pal.” Harold only beamed back, that look of innocent excitement that George resented so fully plastered all over his dumb fucking face. “Right... Well, I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.” George said as he rallied himself for his initial assault. “Good luck, George, I love you!” Harold shouted, a few heads turned in the busy lunch room where the boys now stood. “Ugh, shut up, idiot,” George muttered, and slowly, he began to shuffle his feet in her direction.

And there she was, up close and in all of her glory. Jessica Halifax, the queen bee of Montgomery Davis High School, and George McMahon’s secret obsession. “Hey Jessica, what’s up?” George began, leaning on the cold blue lunchroom table, and doing his best to look cool. “Oh, hey.” She responded, obviously unsure of exactly what to say. George gave what was surely supposed to be a lighthearted chuckle - but what sounded more like a sneeze. “Hey now, Jess, no need to be nervous around me” George exclaimed, his wide smile sending into full relief his yellowed and crisscrossed teeth. Jessica only smiled back, unsure of what to say. Besides her, Sammy Dubois snickered between her fingers. “Hey, what’s your problem, you slut?” George remarked, staring calmly into Sammy’s equally shocked and amused face.

“Woah there, big dog!” A booming voice came flying forth. “Watch the language, huh? There are ladies present, after all.” “There you are, baby!” Spoke Jessica, staring lovingly up into Fred Denton’s chiseled and handsome face. “Here I am!” Boomed Fred again, giving George, now standing loosely off to the side of the girls’ table, a hard clap on the back. Almost having been pushed to his knees by the force of the thing, George turned to face Fred and to give him a piece of his mind. But it was too late, of course. Fred had already sat down, and he and Jessica were locked deep in conversation. Defeated and red-faced, George turned to leave. “Oh George, wait a second.” It was Jessica, and she was calling to him. George's faced flushed a shade darker, and for a moment he looked down at the back of Fred’s head. If only he was gone… “What?” George answered hardily, his frustration apparent to even the most casual onlooker. “Did you do the math sheet?” Jessica asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes. She didn’t wait for his response. “Mind if I give it a look?”

“So how’d it go? It looked like she really likes you from over here!” Harold spoke as soon as his brother had joined him at their small circular table in the corner of the large, bustling lunchroom. George didn’t say a word. “George?” Harold muttered, innocently enough. “What’s wrong?” Staring ahead of himself, at nothing in particular but somehow, at everything all at once, George finally said it. “It’s time, Harry. It’s time”

Harold hadn’t been able to shut up the whole way home. Question after question came; how would they use it, and what would it do. Who would they use it on? Would it hurt? Question and question, and to each one George gave the same response, over and over again. “You’ll see Harry, you’ll see.”

Finally, back in their bedroom, George and Harold got to work at once. Splayed out before the boys, sitting innocently enough on their work desk, a mass of loose wires and steel. Three large bricks of white clay lay off to the side, each wrapped tightly in silver masking tape. George was reading from a webpage entitled, The Anarchists Cookbook, while Harold was meticulously twisting the wires that George indicated together into one long strand. “How long do you think it will take, George?” Harold asked, his wide eyes full of curiosity and trust. “Not long now, Harry,” George responded, clapping his brother sharply on his back as he did. Harold's smile only widened as he was jolted forward. “Not long now.”

“Freddie, I have a weird feeling.” Jessica Halifax spoke softly as she nested herself firmly into the covers of her bed as if voicing her concerns out loud would do nothing other than force them to become real. “Oh, yea? Well maybe I can help take your mind off of it” Fred Denton responded, crawling towards his girlfriend, his smile wide and reassuring as it danced across his handsome face. “No really, Fred, I’m serious,” Jessica stated matter of factly, swatting away Fred’s hands as they began to work their way up her body. “I have a bad feeling.” Fred stopped. “Okay, well, what's wrong?” Jessica breathed a short sigh of relief, having been unsure if Fred would listen. She began slowly, “well, it’s George.” Fred laughed, “Oh, that fuckin’ kid? What about him?” Jessica swallowed, then continued. “I’m not sure, exactly. It’s just the way he looks at me, how he’s always staring at my boobs. It’s just fucking creepy, okay?” Fred’s smile only widened. “Hey, no argument here, the guys a creep. And as for the staring, well, can you blame him?” At this Fred fell upon his girlfriend playfully, reaching for her body as he went. “No, really!” Jessica exclaimed. “He really freaks me out.” Fred looked up, body still half in motion, and briefly held his girlfriends face gently in both of his hands. “Listen to me, Jessica. You don’t ever need to worry about a kid like that. I’ll keep you safe, after all.” Jessica smiled. For some reason, she believed him.

The bell rang out sharply over the mid-morning clamor, as the students of Montgomery Davis High School began to pile in through the large double doors. George and Harold held back for a moment, a large black duffel bag held in both of their hands between them. “Okay, Harry, you know what to do. Just sit tight until third period, and meet me by the Gym.” George's voice croaked out of his throat as if the words didn’t want to be released into the world. “Just hang tight, by the doors, and I’ll let you know what to do.” At this, George motioned to the walkie-talkie that now sat resolutely in his left pocket with a brief pat. “You have yours, too, right?” George asked, hoping against hope the idiot didn’t leave it at home. “Of course, got it right here George!” Harold responded at once, his smile so broad it was amazing his face could contain it. “Good, good.” Muttered George, relieved and bit surprised at his brothers apparent, if only momentary, competency. “So tell me one more time, what are you going to do?” Harold responded at once, having been going over the steps in his head ad infinitum since his brother had relayed them to him this morning on the bus. “I’m going to go to class like normal, wait until third period, and then wait by the entrance of the gym for you, George!” Harold spoke excitedly, knowing by the look on his brother's face that he had gotten it right. “Good, good. And once I get there, and I’m on the hill?” George spoke, staring now directly into his brother's eyes. “When you’re on the hill…” Harold paused for a moment, thinking hard. A look of disgust began to inch over George’s face. But suddenly. “Oh wait! That’s right, the hill! Once you’re on the hill, I go inside and put the bag into the locker, and I leave. Right?” Harold asked a sheepish look of hesitation dancing in his eyes. “You got it right, Harold, you got it,” George said, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder. “Just don’t fuck it up, okay?”

Third period came around faster than either of the two boys had imaged possible. As the bell rang out, and the students began to clog the thin halls once more, Harold and George’s plan finally went into action. Having skipped second period as to ensure his location was precise, George sat and waited for his brother to arrive. From the hill on which the young man now sat, he could see everything. Below him, the gymnasium. A great steel and wooden dome plopped down into the earth resolutely, and at great contrast to the aged buildings that sat around it. A real testament, George thought to himself, about who this damn school really cared about. Well, that was all about to change.

And there he was, at last. Harold came strolling casually out from the back door of the school, black duffel clasped carefully in both of his hands. He was carrying the thing like how a new mother might carry her first child. Terrified of the thing, and in absolute awe. Noticing George up on the hill, Harold gave his walkie a little nudge. “I see ya, pal.” Came George’s voice, cracking through the airwaves up from Harold’s pocket. Harry smiled. He was sure having fun. Again came that crunching sound, and George’s voice eliminated again from within Harold's jeans. “Alright, you know what to do. Just head in, put it down, and get out. Easy, right?” Harold looked up towards his brother, and gave him an eager thumbs-up, momentarily shifting the duffel into one hand. “Careful, moron!” George’s voice exploded. “Do you want this whole thing to have been for nothing?” Harold was sorry, but he didn’t say so. He just redoubled is grip on the bag, and started towards the wide open Gym doors. He walked like a man in a dream, almost floating towards his destination. Never before in his life had Harold felt so important, just as he had never been so happy to help. George needed him, after all. And what were brothers for, if not to be there for each other?

“Oh hey Harry, what’cha got there? Need some help?” Fred Denton’s voice came booming forth from within the Gym’s wide entrance. High up on the hill, George sat bolt upright. No, it couldn't be. Why wasn’t he inside? “Oh… umm” Was all Harold could bear to come up with on the spot - struck dumb was he by this sudden, unexpected development. “I’m okay, tha-” But the bag was already in Fred’s hands. “Don’t even mention it!” Said Fred, chuckling as he moved the mass of metal and wires around between fingers. “Say, what’s in here, anyway?” But before Harold could respond, a soft musical voice came floating towards where he and Fred now stood. “Freddie, what’s up!” it shouted, joy hanging off of each and every word. “Oh, hey babe! Just helping out old Harry here.” “Oh, I didn’t see you there Harold,” Jessica uttered, still standing back in the doorway, just out of reach and unsure of what else to say. “So… Where’s your brother?” Harold smiled for a moment, and his face fell, as he remembered. “Oh.” Was all he had time to say.

Above them, on the hill overlooking the Gym, George sat, seething. Fucking Fred Denton, huh? Fuck you Fred, fuck you Fred, fuck you Fred. The words trailed after one another like some sick funeral procession in his head. George couldn’t think straight. Suddenly the image of Jessica, his love, lying naked in the dim light of his bedroom, his hands around her waist, Fred Denton gone and never coming back. The remote detonator was gripped tightly in George's right hand, his knuckles white from the pressure and the strain. Below him, he could still his brother, standing there talking to Fred, ruining his one shot at happiness one passing moment at a time. Fuck it, he thought, fuck them all. She’ll be mine, and that’s all that matters. I’ll be happy.

A shrill beep beep emanated suddenly from the black duffel bag that was now held between two boys below. “Hey, what’s that?” Jessica asked, moving out from the doorway, and into the brilliant afternoon light. The beep beep came again. Harold didn’t answer. He only stared, up towards where his brother now sat, heart-wrenching disbelief etched solemnly into every line of his young face. Faster now, Beep Beep. Achingly stomach full of heartbreak, “George” was all that he had time to moan.

From his perch atop the hill, George watched in horror as Jessica Halifax came bounding out of those wide Gymnasium doors, a look of questioning wonder on her angelic, innocent face. His brother was staring up at him, that idiotic look of betrayal smoldering in his simple eyes. And Fred Denton, reaching towards Jessica as she came out of the doors towards him, the black duffel still held in his hand, the bomb within it beeping faster and faster with every moment that passed.

The funeral was a lurid affair- and much larger than his brothers had been, but no surprise there. George stood confidently behind the lectern, looking out over the mass of grief-stricken faces as he did. Briefly, his eyes settled on Sammy Dubois face, and slowly worked their way down to her round, heaving breasts, quaking with sorrow as she wallowed in her misery. A brief smile danced across Georges wicked face - and he began.

“As we all now know, and as I have unfortunately known for a very long time, my brother was a very sick young man… “

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