Play Dead

A terrifying story for October...

This story originally appeared in Unnerving Magazine. “Play Dead,” ©2022 Thomas Pluck.

Play Dead

I slowly peel back my eyelids and immediately wish I was still out cold. The Kodiak's roar fills my ears, pierced by sharp, intermittent squeals. The old man's final words, as the beast ate its fill.

He takes a parting shot with his sidearm. The bear swats his head clean off in response. It lands next to me with a flap of scalp peeled off like a worn baseball. Facing away, so I don’t get to see whether the human brain can live on its own for nearly a minute after beheading.

And I don’t get to tell the old man who I am, and why I would face a wounded Kodiak bear to watch him die.

I won’t get to see a lot of things, if I don’t keep still. Play dead, that's what they tell you, right in the visitor's guide.

Alaska.

Hunter's paradise.

#

“Play dead, baby,” Mom whispered. “Like Buddy used to.” She bit her trembling lip. Her bloody hand tight over my mouth. Held me to her wound, let the blood soak my shirt. But Buddy wasn't playing, Mama, I wanted to say.

The developer's men started their campaign to drive us out when they fed my dog Buddy hamburger mixed with glass. Dad said he ran away, but my big brother Kyle told me. He'd found Buddy whimpering, shitting his own guts out.

“A warning,” Kyle said. He swung his baseball bat at the air. “They want us out, to make that stadium. Let 'em come. I'll take 'em.” He had his tough face on, but the sweat sparkling on his peach fuzz upper lip betrayed him.

That night, I listened at our bedroom door, to our folks in the kitchen.

“They want me to run scared? They don't know who they're dealing with,” Dad said.

“I love this house, you know that.” Mom's voice. “But it's not a home any more. The whole neighborhood's gone. Squatters moved in. I found crack vials by the crosswalk.”

“Someone's got to fight, babe.”

“Why's it have to be us? Always us. With the strike, everyone walked through, but not you.”

“It wasn't just me there. And we won.”

“Yeah, but the ones who worked didn't lose a month's pay.”

“They'd have lost a lot more, if it wasn't for us.”

“This is different, Frank. I'm scared.”

“You don't think I was scared? The trucks rolling through the line, we had to dodge out of the way. Jerry lost a toe.”

“What are we gonna lose? They're too big, Frank. Sometimes you have to back down.”

“Maybe if we take a stand, the newspaper will take up our cause,” he said. “The little guy. People will come back.”

They didn’t.