Floodwater Zombies (12 page)

“Oh for God’s sake,” Rachel moaned lightly, taking the initiative and heading for the shorts.

Rory and Woody swapped glances and were quick to follow. They crept closer to the fire; sitting ducks out in the open. Rachel’s flip-flop banged into an empty can of Icehouse. It clattered across the compressed dirt, seeming that much louder in the eerie quiet, and made them stop on cue. Rory tightened his sweaty grip on the black flashlight, its weight feeling good in his hand, and continued their crawl. He clicked on the light and swept its powerful beam across the campsite, seeing dead people who weren’t
really there
. Rachel’s wine glass was still lying on the ground, but shattered like someone had stepped on it during a Jewish wedding to confirm a new couple’s official ceremony into holy matrimony. Kate’s glass stood nearby, half full and untouched. The roving beam lit up Clutch’s John Deere hat with the Oakland Raiders colors. Their eyes followed the beam from Ashley’s crumpled sun dress to the water. It was black as coal and smooth as glass, reflecting the bright stars and moon above which had already shifted in the sky. His mind felt like it was spinning as fast as the earth itself.

“Got
em
,” Woody whispered, fishing his keys from the shorts.

Rory nodded and put a finger to his lips. Woody hurriedly slipped into his board shorts and red Adidas while Rory stepped around the picnic table with Rachel clinging to him like a leaf. He bent over and grabbed his t-shirt from the ground.

“Let’s get
outta
here,” she whispered, wide eyed and trembling.

“I agree,” Rory replied, pulling the shirt over his head and swinging the light around. “Check this out,” he said, walking closer to the water.

The three friends crossed the line where the dirt met the sand and stopped. They stood side by side, their eyes following the flashlight’s powerful beam.

“See those marks in the sand?” Rory said, using the flashlight like a laser pointer.

“Yeah,” Woody replied, taking a swig from a mystery beer he had grabbed from the picnic table. He swallowed slowly, his eyes examining a jagged crater in the wet sand. The light hovered on the fresh disturbance and then slowly traveled along deep gouges that ran into the lake.

A cold shiver snaked down Rory’s spine. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beating. “That’s where that thing dragged Clutch into the water.” A loon cried out from across the lake and Rory could tell Woody wasn’t convinced.

“That’s how far Clutch made it back to camp before it got him,” Rory continued, taking the beer from Woody and extinguishing the cotton mouth that had been plaguing his sticky tongue for the last forty-five minutes. He offered the can to Rachel. She shook her head, so he passed it back to Woody, who finished the remaining backwash in a single chug.

“We should grab some water on our way back to the car,” Rory suggested, suddenly craving water more than he realized.

“Let’s go!” Rachel urged, tugging on Rory’s arm.

“Kate!” Woody yelled through his cupped hands, making Rachel and Rory jump like someone had just hit them with a
Taser
.

“Are you crazy?” Rory scowled.

Woody threw his long arms into the air. “Well, we have to try something. They could be hurt.”

“
We
could be hurt if you don’t chill out.” Rory flicked the flashlight back out over the peaceful water, partially satisfied that Woody was at least entertaining the idea that
something
had happened. They stood in the moonlight listening for a response to Woody’s cry, but only the critters and creatures of the night were there to answer. Woody dropped the empty beer can to the sand and started for the water.

“Woody!” Rory hissed, reluctantly following. Rachel let go of his arm, refusing to take another step closer to the water.

“Wait. Shine the light over here.” Woody pointed to some wet sand with obvious signs of a struggle. The Maglite’s beam glistened off something. Woody bent over and carefully pinched it with two fingers and held it up to the light. He blew wet sand away and rotated it until his face soured. “One of Clutch’s earrings,” he said heavily.

Rory’s eyes narrowed at the strip of sandy flesh dangling from the bottom of the silver hoop.

“Holy shit,” Woody mumbled
,
dropping it back to the sand like it might bite him. His wide eyes returned to Lake Darling with more urgency running through his veins. His prevailing Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he wiped his hand on his shorts. “I was just in there with them,” he said, staring blankly at the shimmering water. “It could’ve been me.”

“It still could if we don’t get out of here,” Rachel added, backing to the trail.

Woody slowly turned around with his mouth hanging open. “Good point. Let’s go,” he said, just as a large man in a black suit and white button-down exploded from the water like a great white lunging after a brown fur seal. They scrambled to turn a stumble into a run and barely had time to take four steps before the man had his beefy meat hooks sunk into Woody’s shoulders from behind. This time Rory didn’t hesitate. He whirled in the sand and clubbed the man over the head with the flashlight. The soggy crunch shattered the lens and stunned the aggressor, driving him to his knees. He swayed for a moment before falling to his side and rolling over onto his back. Unblinking, soulless eyes twinkled with the stars above.

“Holy shit!”
Woody howled, not taking his wide eyes from the jagged holes in the man’s pallid cheeks. Woody rubbed his shoulders, staring at the yellow tendons weaving throughout the man’s wrinkled flesh. “Oh my God, I think I’m infected!”

The beam of light slid to Woody’s shoulders. “You’re not infected,” Rory said, swinging the beam back to the man’s body.

Woody ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Is he dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s go!” Rachel sobbed, digging her nails into Rory’s arm and pulling.

Rory examined the man’s ghastly face, paralyzed by the insanity of it all. He forced himself to turn away. “Come on,” he said, ushering Rachel towards the woods.

“Wait!” Woody yelled.

Grudgingly, Rory stopped and turned.

“That’s Jake Fletcher.”

Rory followed Woody’s gaze to the dead man, his senses on high-alert.
“Who?”

Woody stepped closer and knelt down next to the large man’s soggy body. “He worked on his dad’s dairy farm just outside of town,” he said softly, squinting at the clear indentation of the flashlight in the side of Jake’s head.
“Until he hung himself last month.”

Rachel clamped a hand over her mouth. “What?”

“He committed suicide?”

Woody nodded solemnly. “Apparently, Suzie Medford dumped him for some dude she worked with at Home Depot.”

Deep creases lined Rachel’s forehead. “But…that’s impossible,” she murmured.

Rory cautiously inched closer, gripping the broken flashlight tighter and getting a better view of Jake, who’s thick neck looked like it was about to pop a tightly wrapped Windsor knot in a black necktie. “If he died last month, then how…”

“I don’t know,” Woody cut him off.

Rory poked the man with the Maglite. The man’s flaccid body rocked back into place like a bag of potatoes. “Well, he’s dead this time for sure,” he said, gesturing with the flashlight to the trail. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Woody got to his feet and opened his mouth but nothing came out. He turned to Rory and Rachel and swallowed hard, his face nearly as white as his necklace. “They’re really dead aren’t they?”

Rory turned, still backing to the woods with Rachel.

“Kate and Ashley?
Clutch?”

Rory was about to nod somberly when Jake sat up. Rory stopped, jerking Rachel’s momentum to a reluctant halt. “Run,” he whispered.

Woody frowned. “What?” He turned to follow Rory’s gaze. “Oh shit,” he said dully.

Jake sat there, blankly staring out across the lake. Then he began coughing up what looked like raw sewage into his lap, his torso jerking with each blobby discharge. Rachel pulled on Rory’s arm, her nose wrinkling at the rancid smell. Jake vomited again and turned to them with vacant eyes.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Woody mumbled.

Movement drew Rory’s eyes to the lake where five heads were slowly emerging from the black water. Wet hair clung to their peeling faces. Two fat men led the way, their bloated bellies poking through dress shirts where the buttons had popped off. Their suit coats were tattered and torn with pockets of moss. A teenage boy in a purple suit and yellow tie lagged behind them, followed by two little old ladies wearing long dresses - one with polka-dots, the other a paisley print.

Jake grunted and sprang to his feet. Rory widened his stance and cocked the flashlight back in his hand. Rachel finally managed a scream. The man, unsteady on his feet, sneered at Rory and turned for the water, quickly disappearing into the darkness. The other water-walkers paid him no attention and plodded closer. The elderly woman in the polka-dots dress barred her teeth and screamed. An owl screeched back from a nearby fir tree as her casual demeanor suddenly morphed into a sprint.

The fact that she had lured them into a false sense of complacency flitted through Rory’s mind. “Run!” he yelled, gripping Rachel’s sweaty hand and taking off like a bat out of hell.

Woody was quick to follow. They dashed past the picnic table and passed the tents. Rachel tripped over a metal stake sticking out of the ground and fell. One corner of Clutch’s green tent collapsed with her. She screamed in pain. Rory skidded to a stop in the dirt and helped her up, not wasting even a second to look back. Woody blazed past them without stopping while Rory threw Rachel’s arm around his neck and helped her limp towards the darkened tree line. She had lost a flip-flop and was moving slow.
Too slow.
He worried her leg was broken. He worried more that the stiffs would be on them before getting out of the fire’s dwindling light.

The leaves and branches tore across their faces and arms and couldn’t have felt better. Rory was convinced they wouldn’t even make it this far. He squinted through the shadows, searching for Woody but not stopping his scrambling feet. Rachel tried to keep up, hobbling and grimacing every time she put weight on her leg.

“
Pssst
!” rang out.

Rory slowed and turned to see Woody crouching behind the same blackberry bush. He frantically waved them over with one hand while holding a finger to his lips with the other.

“Check this out,” he whispered.

Rory and Rachel knelt down, trying to catch their breath. Carefully, Rory peeled a branch back to see the two fat men on their way back into the lake. The two old ladies and the teen stood in front of the fire, scouring the tree line with hollow eyes that glowed in the fire’s light. They scanned the area, sniffing at the smoky air like ravenous wolves. Their dripping wet heads bobbed back and forth across the flickering campsite. Polka-Dots suddenly stopped moving, and began sniffing the air more feverishly. Then she stopped and slowly turned her grisly gaze to the blackberry bush. The other wretched things noticed she was onto something and turned their haunted stare to the bush as well. Almost on cue, they started creeping closer, coughing and choking with each shambling step.