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justmeinadaze · 1 year ago

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Little Girl Gone Part 6 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Ok, I forgoed the heavy cliffhanger I wanted to end it on but still have one none the less so don't get too cocky! Lol <3.

Warnings: Dom Officer Harrington/Gangster Munson & Sub Doctor Fem Reader, no smut today, lads!

Lots of angst! Eddie was arrested and Y/N gets interrogated. Mentions of deaths involving gunshots, child abuse from Eddie's father mentioned, Eddie hurt pretty bad in this (black eye, bruises, and burns) but not mentioned in in-depth detail. Reader is attacked by someone in her apartment but is rescued.

Word Count: 4271

Series here/ Donate to my Ko-Fi

Falling out the side building, Steve looked around jumping to the ground and reached up for you to do the same. Taking your hand, you both ran to your car and he opened the door for you ushering you in.

After speeding away, he paused on the side of the road to catch his bearings and check his phone.

“Shit. They called me like 10 times. FUCK!”, he growls as he slams his hands on the steering wheel. “I could have warned him. I could’ve—”

“Steve, this isn’t your fault; it’s Gabe’s.”, you try to soothe as you rub his back.

“I need to see what they know and where they are putting him for the time being. Just go home and wait there, ok?”

“What if the cops come?”

The officer sighs as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“If they do, just remember what we taught you.” As you nod, he hastily leans down and kisses your lips. “Everything will be ok, honey.”

***

Two hours later, the cops did come for you insisting it was just to talk; not even putting handcuffs on you as you rode in the police cruiser to the station. Leading you to an integration room, you waited another thirty minutes before Steve and the detective you had seen him with before open the door.

“Hey Y/N. It’s good to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“Detective Hopper…and this is Officer Harrington. I remember you two.”

“Good. Very good.”, he grins warmly. “Is there anything you need before we begin?”

“Begin what exactly? I was told I’m not under arrest so what AM I here for?”

“Huh. So you haven’t heard Eddie Munson was arrested this morning?”

“What? No, I hadn’t. You people woke me up to come here! Why did you arrest him?! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” Your eyes narrowed as you faked shock.

“Calm down, Miss Y/L/N. We’re just asking questions, ok?”, Steve sighed your way with annoyance laced in his tone. “You are dating a gangster.”

“I’m dating a businessman. He’s not the monster you people make him out to be. And it’s DOCTOR Y/L/N, asshole.”

“Well, if I may doctor, do you know this man here?”

Detective Hopper slides an image of your ex across the table towards you.

“Yeah, I mean that’s my ex from college Gabriel Wiley but I haven’t seen him sense he went in almost three years ago. Why and what does this have to do with Eddie?”

“It seems he had some information in regard to your boyfriend that could put him away for a long time.”

“I hope you didn’t take him seriously because Gabe was a notorious liar.”

“Hm, well unfortunately we’ll never find that out from him or anything else he wanted to tell us.”

While waiting for him to continue your eyes flick towards Steve whose features seem to paint more than just worry along his face. He knows something but he hasn’t been able to tell you or Eddie yet. Sliding another picture your way, your eyes widen as you gasp.

“He was murdered sometime last night.”

A commotion suddenly erupts outside with officers shouting for backup. The door to your room flies open as the gangster quickly slides to your side and grabs your hand.

“Listen to me, Y/N. Don’t listen to a thing they say, alright? I didn’t kill him. I swear on my mother, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you like that!” As Eddie’s pleas tumble out, policemen tackle him and force the cuffs onto him again as they begin to drag him back out into the lobby. “I didn’t kill him, Y/N! Please! Believe me! I didn’t do this!”

Glancing towards Steve again, you notice he’s wearing that sarcastic smirk you had seen many times but it didn’t match the frightened look that reflected back in his own eyes. It was taking everything in him to be calm and appear unphased as his world fell apart.

“Don’t tell me you really think he killed Gabe? Edward Munson isn’t capable of murder.”, you growled. “Plus, we were together last night.”

“Doing what?”

“Take a guess.”, you spit.

“Control your tone, little girl.”, Steve sasses making the other officer roll his eyes.

“Harrington, calm down. Miss—Dr. Y/L/N—we’re still doing an autopsy to find out when Mr. Wiley was murdered but at this time we have to ask, you don’t think he’d kill him out of jealousy? I mean this is your ex threatening to expose him. Of course, he’d—”

“Of course…because he comes from a crime ridden family my boyfriend would HAVE to have it in him to hurt someone like that, right? Eddie isn’t like his father. Plus, something like this doesn’t reflect a crime of passion.”

“What do you mean?”

Again, your eyes shift towards Steve who now genuinely seems to be interested in your theory.

“Gabe was shot in the head from what I see here. It’s too clean…as if someone wanted to just do this job quick and get it over with. If this WAS jealousy there would be more signs of trauma or he would have used a weapon more personal like a knife.”

“So, who else would want Mr. Wiley dead then?”

“You said he was going to sell out Eddie and you believe Eddie took over his father’s empire…” Steve stands up straighter at your implicated as the detective seems more confused making you huff. “Jesus and you’re a detective? It has to be someone who was trying to protect Allen.”

“Someone in his gang you think?”

“Well…only officers knew Gabe was going to make a statement right?”

Hopper’s eyes darken as he glares in your equally angry irises.

“That’s a big leap you’re making, Y/N.”

“Is it, Jim?”, you ask sarcastically squaring your shoulders. “I want Eddie out of here now.”

“Once we can confirm your alibi for him with the time of death and we finish searching his building he’s all yours. You may leave now.”

Gathering your things, you fume as you stomp out of the interrogation room and head for your car. Purposely leaving something behind, you wait in your vehicle until Steve finally runs out with your phone in his hand.

“You did so fucking good, honey. Are you ok? I’m sorry. They just told me about Gabe before we walked into the room.”

“I know. I know. I trust you. We need to get Eddie out of there, Steve. He’s not safe.”

“I’m doing everything I can to hurry these results. Thankfully, he was able to get a message to Jeff and the guys were able to hide all the supplies so they haven’t found anything nor will they.”

“Do you have any idea who would kill Gabe to silence him?”

“No and I feel like a fucking idiot for not thinking of that. I can’t be the only dirty cop right?”

“Sweetheart, you protect him and me, not every criminal in Hawkins.”, you try to sooth as you lightly touch his hand that was resting on your car.

“I’m going to focus on getting him out. Go back to your apartment and hopefully the next time I see you…he’ll be with me.”

##############

18 hours.

18 long arduous hours past and you still hadn’t heard anything. You called into work siting illness and left one of your nurses in charge. You barely sat down for a moment, refusing to sleep as you paced.

When someone knocked on your door, you didn’t even hesitate as you ran to open it.

“Oh. Hi. Um, can I help you?”, you asked to the stranger in front of you.

“Yes, are you Y/N? Steve said I should wait here.”

“May I ask who you are?”

“I’m Wayne, Eddie’s uncle.”, he announced as he walked past you and took a seat on your sofa. “Fucking Allen. I tried to go to the police station to raise hell but they wouldn’t let my nephew go. I went to the prison to try and talk to him but his father spoke to me instead. Said that Eddie was ‘indisposed’.” At his words, your eyes widened in fear as you ran towards your phone. “Steve said the results came in so he’s bringing him here soon.”

“O-Ok.”, you stutter as you sit beside him before immediately rising to your feet again. “W-Would you like anything? Any coffee or?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine. Thank you. It’s nice to finally meet you. He talks about you and Steve all the time. He calls you two his Paladin and his Princess.”, he chuckles making you smile. “I’m glad he’s happy. After everything that boy has been through he deserves it.”

Your front door abruptly opens with Jeff and Steve carrying an unconscious Eddie over each of their shoulders with Gareth trailing behind. Your doctor mode promptly kicked in as they placed him on your bed and you checked him over.

“He passed out in the car. I’m surprised he was able to even fucking walk out of the station.”, the officer relayed with a shake in his tone. “I don’t know what they did to him but…”

“I imagine it was Allen. If your theory about an officer is correct, that same officer could have told him that he hadn’t followed through with killing the ex. This would be punishment.”, Wayne responded as he watched you work.

“It’s Eddie’s gang. He can do what he wants.”, Garth growled.

“Not to Allen, son.”

“Eddie, baby. Can you open your eyes and look at me?”, you asked in a stern but comforting voice as you caressed his cheek. He was littered in bruises especially along his stomach and face. His eye was beginning to swell and his nose had dried blood underneath it staining his skin. What killed you the most where what looked like cigarette burns on his arms. “Jeff, in my kitchen under the cabinet I have a first aid kit with some burn cream and bandages meant for burns. Can you bring that to me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I brought this from my apartment. I didn’t know if…” Steve hands you the medicine you prescribed him for his own bruises making you smile up at him as you kiss his hand.

“I don’t think anything’s broken but—”

“Can you boys go back to his building and assess what the police did? If anything is out of place or missing let Steve or myself know. Please be careful. If this is a cops doing…” Both men nod as they run off to do what Wayne commanded. Pulling the officer aside, they whisper to each other as you focus. “What did you find out?”

“Gabe reached out to the station from a hotel outside of town. One officer answered and two others went to pick him up. They were the ones who reported his body. Eddie’s guy dropped him off at 1am, he texted her at 3am… his time of death was estimated between 3 and 3:30.” As he said his last sentence, Steve’s eyes locked with your own.

You ex most likely texted you believing that someone was there to protect him before being murdered. You were the last person to hear from him. At the time they knew you wouldn’t but Eddie had offered to drive you to where he was. If for some reason you said you wanted to be with Gabe instead of them, you would most likely be dead to.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

You nod as you turn away and place an ice pack on the gangsters abs.

“I’m going to do some research on those cops. When did they report the ex’s body?”

“Around 5. They left the station around 4.”

“Ok…I’ll still do a check but…I’ll be back. Keep me updated, Steven.”

The officer nodded after him as Wayne left the apartment and grabbed one of your dining room chairs so he could sit near you both but not be in the way.

“What does he do; Eddie’s uncle?”, you mumble.

“He used to be a manager at one of the plants over here. Did that till Ed graduated. After, he got into private eye work helping families reconnect and shit like that. He’s actually really good at it.”, he smirks as his sad eyes watch you finish taping his partner’s arm. “Is he gonna be ok?”

“I think so. It seems like his dad…wanted to torture him…more than kill him.” As you begin to sob, Steve collects you in his arms and places you on his lap. “I don’t understand how a parent could do something like this.”

“Because Allen isn’t a parent; never fucking was. The Munson’s in those early years were extremely ruthless and vindictive. He killed for pleasure and ran his side of town like a fucking dictator. He was the same way with Eddie. From what he told me anyway. Abandoning him with Wayne was the best thing that asshole ever did for him.”

While Steve passed out beside him holding the gangster’s hand, you stayed awake constantly checking on his progress and making sure he was still breathing. Not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, you fell asleep in the chair beside him with your head against the mattress.

***

Waking up with a start, you gasped before calming yourself when you realized everything was alright, it had just begun to lightly rain outside. Steve was gone but left a note by your hand saying he left to go meet Wayne and get some more details but he’d be back in a few hours.

After quickly checking over Eddie, you headed down your hall towards your kitchen to get some water but as soon as you crossed the threshold of the hallway something hard collided with your face. Falling to the floor, you try to collect yourself but whoever hit you was faster, pinning you to the ground and wrapping their hands around your neck.

You tried to scream but you couldn’t breathe as you slowly began losing air. The world around you began to go dark and you knew soon you’d be gone.

The person above you abruptly howled in pain, falling to his side as you rolled over and coughed trying to collect as much oxygen as you could. You heard the struggle behind you before silence suddenly fell over the room. When a bloody hand touched your hip, you begin to limply fight back.

“It’s me. It’s me, sweetheart. It’s me. Are you ok?”, Eddie asked as crawled closer to you.

A broken cry escaped you as you circled your arms around his neck and he clung you tightly to his chest. The door to your apartment quietly opened but as the officer came around the corner he was anything but.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck happened? Are you two alright?!”, Steve asked as he skidded to his knees and Wayne turned on the lights.

When he tried to touch you to check on you, you didn’t even look his way as you held on to the gangster tighter and buried your face in the nook of his neck. Eddie could feel your hands and body still shaking and it killed him.

“It looks like we were right, Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle sighs as he pulls his nephew’s knife out of the other officer’s back. “Officer Douglas…I guess he came here to finish Gabe’s job. He’s still alive. Was there anything else you wanted to get out of him or can we do this quickly and cleanly?”

“Leave him there.”, Eddie answered for him flatly as he placed his palm against the back of your head, petting your hair tenderly.”

“Edward, this is a cop. Are you sure you want to—”

“LEAVE HIM THERE!” Steve jumped at his loud growl, never hearing this particular tone before from the man he loved.

Giving him a final nod, Wayne patted the other man’s shoulder comfortingly before heading out the door and leaving you three alone. Unsure of what to do next, Steve kicked into the only other gear he knew, grabbing another one of your chairs from the dining room and dragging the knocked-out officer to it before tying his hands behind his back.

“Look at me, baby. Let me see you.”, Eddie cooed as his hands cupped your face and tilted your head back. You had a cut above your eye that was beginning to swell and purple bruises were starting to form around your neck from where the man had choked you. “Do you think can stand so we can sit on the couch?”, he whispered.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve bent down and lifted you into his arms, placing you on the sofa before coming back to take Eddie’s hand and guiding him to sit beside you. You both listened as he headed towards your room and came back with the first aid materials he saw you use on his partner.

While you watched the officer fumble with getting everything together, the gangster kept his eyes you, taking note of your silent but seemingly calm demeanor. Sitting on your coffee table, Steve cleaned your wound carefully trying not to cause you anymore pain. As he started tearing open the bandage, you reached out to stop him, lightly tapping his hand and pointing towards the gauze squares.

When he finishes his task, he glances over at Eddie, silently asking if he needs any first aid but the man shakes his head.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. You two go lay down.”

After rising to your feet, you took the gangster’s hand and slung his arm behind your neck as you guided him back your bedroom. As you curled up in his side, his fingers absently played with your hair as he glared up at the ceiling. Not being able to control it, you began to cry again as he held you tighter to his body.

“Whenever my dad would scream and yell at men in our house, my mom used to hold me by her side just like this. After she died, he started screaming at me. I could never do anything right and he accused me constantly of being weak like her.”

You didn’t move or acknowledge you were listening but he knew you were, turning his head till his check rested on your forehead.

“That last year was the worst… he needed to get through to me, he said. He hired some of his goons to jump me when I was walking home from school to beat the shit out of me. When I was 12, Wayne said he wouldn’t tolerate this anymore. ‘Give me Eddie and I’ll take care of him.’ My dad dropped me off three hours later… I told myself when I took over that I would never treat any of my men the way he treated me and I don’t. He still has people though that are loyal to the ‘original true Munson’. They helped him carry out this particular punishment.”

As he murmured his last couple of words, you pushed up on your elbow to look at his face and his sad, heavy eyes met yours.

“I think it’s my turn to punish Allen… starting with that fucker out there…”

There was a darkness that clouded his eyes then. Something you had never seen before, rattling you slightly as you blinked and laid your head back down against his chest.

###############

That morning when you woke up, you were alone but you could hear their voices as they spoke in your living room.

“How many more cops work for Allen?”, Steve asked angerly to the man tied to the chair.

“You know, Harrington, I never would have taken you for dirty. You could have been making way more money if you picked the right Munson.”

Ringed fingers grabbed the other officer’s throat violently as Eddie pressed his nose to his own.

“You attacked and almost killed someone important to us. No matter what you aren’t going to leave this building alive but you’re the one that gets to choose if it’s quick or a slow, agonizing, painful death. Be lucky you’re getting the fucking option.”, he spat he let the man go and punched him hard in the stomach.

“What does it…matter…freak?”, Officer Douglas coughed. “Your father has allies everywhere. That bitch was marked for death and it will happen. Wait until he finds out you’re fucking a cop to. He’ll probably follow through with finally killing your ass!”

“Did you kill Gabe?”, you asked as all heads shift your way.

“Fuck you.”, he cursed causing Steve to punch his face, spraying blood on the floor.

“She asked you something. Fucking answer.”

The other man chuckled as he threw his head back to glare your way.

“Yeah, I killed him. I’d like to tell you he went out like a man but little shit cried begging, fucking BEGGING, for us to spare you. ‘Please! Please! She’s a good woman! Leave her be! Wa-wa.’”

You have no idea what came over you but you flew towards him, swiftly taking Eddie’s knife in your hand, and pointing it at the man’s throat.

“You won’t do it, little girl.”

“Oh yeah? You killed someone I cared about, tried to kill me, and then you and your little fake gang of nostalgic assholes hurt one of the men I love. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re weak. Just. Like. Them.”, he grumbled sassily.

Who you were and you were becoming began fighting within your brain as the knife began to quiver in your grasp. You wanted nothing more than to hurt this man like he had you but you were scared. A steady breath warmed the back of your neck as Eddie’s palm slid down your arm and he wrapped his own hand around yours holding the weapon.

“Don’t think about it. If you think about it, you’ll talk yourself out of it.”, he whispered.

“Eddie—”

“Shut the fuck up Steve.”, the gangster growled as his other arm wrapped around your stomach and pressed your back against him. “You can do it, pretty girl. You aren’t weak are you?”

“No.”

“Louder.”

“No, sir. I’m NOT weak.”

“Then do it, princess. Do you think he was going to show you any mercy when he had his hands around your throat? No. He was going to fucking kill you. Return the favor.”

Before you could do anything, a loud bang from Steve’s gun filled your ears as they began to ring and Eddie lightly pushed you away from him, taking his knife from your grasp.

“I know you’re hurting and these last few days have been rough but that does not give you license to play with her like that.”, Steve sneered in anger towards his partner. “If she wants to kill someone, that’s up to her. If she wanted to kill him, I would have let her but what you just did…trying to force her…”

“I wasn’t forcing her. I was encouraging.”

“Bullshit.”

“She needs to become stronger for what’s in store, Steven. More people are going to come after her until it gets through to Allen that I’M in charge. I know the line has been blurred because of our relationship but let me remind me of something, babe. I’m the gangster and I run a business. Jason was smart enough to back away but my father isn’t and it’s my turn to teach him a lesson. ANYONE who is loyal to that man will be put down. I’m done playing nice guy.”

“Edward Munson—”

“What, Steven Harrington? Are you going to throw me in jail and turn yourself in? Yeah, now we know what your police force does with people like that so give it a go.” The officer cocks his gun again and points the barrel towards his boyfriend’s head. “What are you going to do, sweetheart, huh? You’re gonna kill me?”

Tears stung Steve’s eyes as his hand began to shake.

“Please, honey, don’t do this. If you do, I’m going to lose you anyway because Allen will kill you.”

Standing up straighter, Eddie, pressed his forehead further into the weapon as if to challenge him.

“So be it.”

Another gun cocking echoed through the apartment as you held it up towards the officer in front of you.

“Drop it, Steve.”

“I can’t do that, Y/N.”

“Now, Steven, or I swear to God…”

Feeling defeated, the officer lowered his weapon and tucked it back into his holster as you turned your own on the gangster himself.

“I understand why you feel like you need to this and I’m not going to try to stop you but you need to heal and you need to be smart about this.”

“I don’t need to be anything, little girl. I already told you that neither of you have a say in what I do and this will not stand.”

Growling low in your throat, you place the gun on the counter.

“And I already told you that I’m involved whether you like it or not. Someone just tried to kill me again but this time they almost succeeded. Now, you will get back in bed and rest while Steve cleans up the mess here. Do I make myself clear, little boy?”

Steve’s eyebrow quirks as Eddie’s eyes darken further.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Matching his stance, your chest comes level with his as your glare up at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive @corrodedcoffincumslut @aactuaaltraash @nailbatanddungeon

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creepyclothdoll · 5 months ago

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We don’t take kindly to outsiders

around here, pardner,” said the grizzled and sunburnt face.

“... Darryl Choi?” I said. But it couldn’t be.

“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” the man tipped that face up at me and I saw his familiar dark eyes clearly under his dusty cowboy hat.

“You’re dead,” I blurted. The cowboy stood and drained his sarsaparilla.

“This outsider botherin’ ya, Smokes?” the bartender said, polishing a glass behind the gas station counter, which had been apparently repurposed as a saloon bar. There were still vape cartridges and 5-hour-energy drinks on the shelf behind him, gathering dust next to bottles of unlabeled brown liquor and oil lamps.

“I’m not an outsider,” I argued. “This is my hometown. I took your niece London to prom, Mr. Jarocki.” The bartender narrowed his eyes at me.

“Name’s Ben Wiley Sr to you,” he said, frowning under his huge white handlebar mustache. “Now, your money’s as good as anyone else’s, kid, but after you quench yer thirst, you better take that steel horse you rode in on and ride along yonder, if you know what’s good for yeh.”

“Yonder?!” I said. “What the hell is going on? This is Massachusetts. Is this a bit?”

The five other cowboys in the gas station, who were all sitting around makeshift tables that had been hammered together from pieces of the Holiday station shelving, stopped their card game and glared at me. One of them reached for his sidearm.

Darryl clapped his hand around my shoulder.

“Settle down, boys,” he said. “This here fella’s kin, he just don’t know it yet. Sit down, pardner, and I’ll tell my tale.”

“I just came in to pay for gas. The thingy wasn’t working outside,” I said. “I’m actually late to my mom’s memorial service right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, son.”

“It’s my mom’s–”

“Sit down.”

I sat down. The plastic chair squeaked. Mr Jarocki brought me a stein of sasparilla.

“Folks ‘round here, y’see… we ain’t afraid o’ death no more,” Darryl said. He lit his pipe. Red embers lit his dark eyes. “I met death. He’s a ten-cent man.” Darryl stared through the Holiday station windows past the gas pump and toward the horizon of Peabridge, Massachusetts.

In 2016, Darryl Choi had been crushed to death by a semi on his way home from UMass Amherst. He was the first friend I ever lost. His death had hit me hard. We weren’t as close as I was with some of my other friends, but we’d cut class a couple of times to vape by the creek and trade Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I didn’t think he could grow facial hair, but he had a lot of it now.

“Y’ever heard of Pet Semetary?” Darryl asked.

“Yeah, I saw the movie,” I said. “And the remake.”

“Well, turns out, we got one of those.”

I stared incredulously. If I hadn’t been at Darryl Choi’s funeral, I wouldn’t have believed him.

“Okay,” I said.

“Basically, it works just like in ol’ Steve King’s account. You die, they put you in there, you come back wrong. First time they tried it with a person, it was Christina Elspeth, the old schoolmarm.”

“Oh no, Mrs Elspeth died?”

“It don’t matter now,” Darryl grunted. “Listen. They put the schoolmarm in the cemetery and the next day she was crawling back all fulla murderous rage n’ such, same as the dogs n’ cats n’ fish, but worse. Spoutin’ all kinds of vileness. So her husband shot her in the head.”

“Mr Elspeth?!?”

“Not before she cut him real good across the belly, though. The ol’ fella bled out right quick in his flower garden. So they buried both of ‘em in the Semetary-whatsit again, on account of the headstone already bein’ paid for.”

Mr Elspeth was my youth pastor. He always snuck us leftover communion bread and we’d eat it with marshmallow fluff. I didn’t even know he had a gun.

“So another day passed, and, well, the two of ‘em sprung back outta that dirt mound. Mr Elspeth had come back ‘wrong,’ just like his missus before him– all evil and such. But Mrs Elspeth came back even wronger. Turns out, there’s a step down below ‘evil.’ I’m talkin’ downright… well, sorta like those red fellers we used to play at killin’ as youngsters in that movin’ picture game.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Darryl,” I said. “Can you drop the cowboy accent?”

Darryl glared at me.

“Folks call me Smokes these days,” he said. “Smokes Barlow. Wilbur Lee Barlow if you’re a lawman.”

“I’m not gonna call you Wilbur Lee Barlow,” I said.

“Naw, you’ll call me Smokes, like everyone else,” he replied smoothly.

“Resident Evil?” I said.

“... Huh?”

“The red zombies from Resident Evil, is that what you were talking about earlier?”

Smokes shrugged.

“Anyhow, the two of ‘em went on a killin’ spree round here. And I guess word got out about the cursed boneyard– everyone and their mother, I mean the ones who survived, hoped maybe their kin would be the exception to the rule. So more n’ more bodies went in the mound, and each of ‘em came out as evil as the last. ‘Cept for Mrs Elspeth, who came back worse for wear.”

“They put her back? Again?”

“Well, see, the headstone had been paid for. So Mrs Elspeth comes back and she’s still spittin’ hell’s worst curses and hankerin’ for a stabbin’, but now she’s also sort of a mad scientist sort. So she breaks into the hospital n’ starts grafting people’s limbs together–”

“Hang on. What the hell do you mean she’s a mad scientist sort?” I said. “She was a music teacher?”

“Well, see, that’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. She’s running around, hair all crazy, in a stolen lab coat, rantin’ and ravin’ about man playing god and splicing DNA and such, creating humanity’s next evolution and such. So eventually the hospital staff knock her out and toss her back in the hole. Next time she came back, she was a 19th century venture capitalist named Montgomery Prescott III who aimed to turn Peabridge into a factory town.”

“Sorry, when did this all happen?”

“‘Course, by this time, her husband was on his third resurrection too, so Prescott was a force to be reckoned with with the power of science behind him. The two of ‘em did a bang-up job whippin’ this place into shape, corralling all the zombies n’ throwing em in the hole, y’know, for science, and to see if they could monetize it. Prescott Mining & Scientific Enterprise un-buried all the dead from the regular ol’ graveyard and tossed ‘em in the hole, myself included. Then, when they came back, they put all those evil folks to work in the mines, or in the lab.”

“Now those mines were dangerous, of course, with all the coal dust and gas leaks… Prescott didn’t give a damn about safety. Lotta folks died. But they’d just bring ‘em back. A couple weeks in, though, and there were about twenty Montgomery Prescott III’s and about a hundred mad scientists running around, and it turns out, Monty Prescott works for no man. Each of ‘em enlisted a squad of mad scientists and started their own enterprise. Wasn’t too long before they started assassinating the competition. At this point, we’d all just gotten used to throwin’ people in the hole.

“Turns out, after Prescott, you come back as kind of a Dracula. Now I won’t go into all that business– you know ‘Salem’s Lot?”

“No? Is that a gang?”

“What about that there Catholic picture show up there on the Netflix, the one on the island, put together by that Irish feller? Michael somethin. O’Flanagan.”

“Mike Flanagan? Midnight Mass?”

Smokes smiled.

“There ya go. It was all pretty much like that.”

I looked around at the gas station. Other than the restructuring that had transformed it from a regular Holiday gas station into a cowboy saloon, it looked like this place had been through waves of disasters. There were bullet holes all over the ceiling, a massive rusty brown stain that someone had tried to scrub out with lye on the linoleum, burn marks on the walls with strange curling imprints of what looked like vines and needles…

“I’m guessing that ‘everyone is vampires’ didn’t last long,” I said.

“It just ain’t sustainable,” Smokes shook his head. “Vampires always think it’s a smart idea to make everyone vampires, but, see, it just don’t work out. What do they eat? Turns out, they don’t. They starve. Then it’s back in the hole.” “So things carried on like that for awhile. At a certain point, we were just chuckin’ people in there to see if there was an end point, y’know, how far this thing goes. Turns out, it goes Evil, Mindless Zombie, Mad Scientist, Montgomery Prescott III, Master Vampire, Ghoul, Skeleton Warrior, Skeleton Jazz Musician, Man-eating Plant, Plant-eating Man– or a Vegan, I guess you’d call him, and a real sonofabitch– Haunted Ventriloquist, Haunted Dummy, Haunted Mummy, Christian Family Vlogger, ‘Edna,’ Evil Cowboy, Zombie Cowboy, Plant Cowboy, ‘Edna’ again, then just regular ol’ pure Cowboy.”

“What comes after Cowboy?” I asked.

Smokes shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s just Cowboy all the way down after that.”

The cowboys playing poker glanced up at me through clouds of tobacco smoke. I recognized some of these people from around town. Or, rather, I recognized who they used to be.

“So… my mom’s memorial… she’s not really dead, is she?” I said, a wave of hope and relief overwhelming me. “I thought I’d have to say goodbye to her today. But she’ll be back, won’t she?”

Smokes only smiled sadly.

“You won’t find fuel for your steel carriage, pardner,” said Smokes. “I’ll give you a ride to the cemetary.”

I followed Smokes out to the parking lot, where several horses were hitched.

“Where did you guys get all these horses?” I asked.

“Oh, where there’s cowpokes, there’s horses,” he replied. “That’s a rule of nature.” Smokes fed the horse an apple and stroked her mane before bidding me to climb on behind him. I held onto his waist, which was pretty weird for me because we were never close like that, and we galloped off up the highway toward the middle of town.

We passed the elementary school, which had been covered in radiation warning signs and barbed wire. Then we passed the old Coney Island restaurant, which had been converted to a one-room schoolhouse. Main Street’s restaurants, law firms, and tattoo parlor had been replaced by a Dry Goods store, an ox stable, a wagoner, an apothecary– the barber was the same, but it looked like he also pulled teeth now.

The park that I played in as a kid had been bulldozed to hell, and in its place was a brown dirt yard with scattered mounds and holes all clustered near the center. A new sign hung over the entrance on a wooden board: Lazarus Mound Cemetary.

“I guess we coulda been more creative,” Smokes said. “But it’s too late for couldas, I reckon.”

A group of cowboys, clad in black, stood over a dirt pile. They held their hats to their chest as the eulogy was read. Smokes followed me to my mother’s fresh grave. I dropped my bouquet of flowers on top of it.

“Family only,” said one of the cowboys, glaring at me.

“Uncle Matt, it’s me,” I said. He twirled his goatee and grimaced, revealing a new gold tooth.

“It’s Billy ‘Cobra’ Nash these days,” he said. “Didn’t recognize ya, son. I s’pose you want to say a few words,” he gestured to the mound.

“Well, I would,” I said, “But I’m pretty sure she’ll pop out halfway through.”

“That’s no way to talk about your poor dead mother,” said Great-Grandma Tess, who I hadn’t seen since 2004, when she died from stroke. Except she wasn’t Great-Grandma Tess. She was a short old man with a long rabbity mustache and two guns on either side.

“Let the kid grieve, Slim,” said Cobra.

The sun set on us. The resurrected cowboy versions of my family members became hungry and bored, and set up a small campfire where they heated up coffee and beans, and spun some yarns. I asked questions about the cowboy economy and how it could sustain itself in this Massachusetts town that didn’t have that many cows, and they responded by cussing me out and telling me to get lost, city boy. I said I couldn’t be a city boy because I was from here, and they took away my beans.

Finally, after about an hour, there was rustling from the mound.

“Here she comes,” said Cobra.

The dirt shuffled and ran down the side of the mound, a miniature landslide. Finally, a gloved hand emerged. Then an arm. A dirty, dusty head, crowned in a cowboy hat, burst from the pile, coughing.

“Well, butter my biscuits, if it ain’t The Cheat, just in time for dinner,” said Slim, hands on his hips.

My mom, who was now a dirt-covered cowboy named The Cheat, clicked his boots together to dislodge some stones from his spurs.

“Howdy. Miss me, fellas?” The Cheat rasped, spitting pebbles into the fire.

“Mom?” I said. The Cheat looked me over.

“They call me Vernon ‘The Cheat’ Maddox now,” my mom said.

“Why Maddox?” I asked. “Mom, what was wrong with Nguyen?”

“Ain’t a cowboy name,” said Mom.

“A cowboy can’t be Vietnamese?”

“Listen, kid,” said The Cheat, clapping me on the arm. “I’ve had a long day, and to be frank, I can’t abide a city slicker like you before I get my brew. Gotta fill up on beans n’ coffee or I’ll be skinner than a jazz skeleton in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

I watched my mom walk away toward the fire, greeting the other cowboys like old friends.

“It’s like she didn’t even recognize me,” I said, broken.

Smokes patted me on the shoulder.

“That ain’t your mother no more, pardner,” he said. “Same as I ain’t Darryl Choi.” “What’s the point of raising people from the dead if they’re not themselves?” I said.

“I reckon you’ve missed the essential theme of the Pet Semetary premise,” Smokes said. “The point is, it’s a curse, not a blessing. To the living, at least. Mister Stephen King said sometimes dead is better. And here in Peabridge, we reckon he was right.”

I heard a metal click. I turned around to see Smokes’ shotgun pointed square at my forehead.

“Whoa,” I said. The cowboys at the fire turned to watch with dim interest, including my own mother. “Darryl, hey, put that away.”

“Dead is better. But you know what’s best? Cowboy,” he said. “Cowboy is the best there is.”

“Best there is,” said the cowpokes around the fire in eerie unison.

“Wait, wait, wait–” there was a bang. My vision filled with red, and then there was nothing. I saw and felt and heard nothing as Smokes watched my limp body fall backwards into the hole. He kicked dirt over me casually. He holstered his weapon. He sat down around the fire, next to the others.

“How many bullets ya got, Smokes?” asked The Cheat through a mouthful of beans.

“Not enough to get him all the way through,” Smokes replied, lighting his pipe. “But enough to get him past Dracula, for sure.”

“That’s the one you gotta watch out for,” The Cheat said. “I’ll stand vigil with ya, pardner.”

“You go home, Maddox, wash that dust off, tend to your herd. Be on the lookout for Edna– word is she’s still at large in places,” Smokes said.

“She’ll come around,” said Slim. “They always do.”

The campfire’s embers rose up to the cloudy, dark sky. Smokes leaned back and tipped his hat low over his eyes.

“This town’s got room for plenty more cowboys,” he said. Around the fire, a dozen pairs of black, gleaming eyes turned toward the Lazarus Mound, waiting.

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