Chapter 43: Making a Way Back

Chapter 43: Making a Way Back

 

  Sara greets the coming sunrise by poking her head out of the drainpipe. She looks like an overly cautious groundhog. Sara wonders if she will see her own shadow in the coming light signaling six more weeks of zombie apocalypse. “So far so good” She whispers. Lockett glances down in the drainage culvert below her. She sees the armless corpse whose head she had destroyed with the rock last night. It bobs about on the surface of the pooled water. It is damaged head leaves an oil slick of brain matter floating in the cloudy rainwater. “Ben we need to head out your side.” She announces back down the wide aluminum pipe. Her voice carries reverberating with an echo down to Ben James. Ben sneaks a quick glance out of his end of the pipe. He gently places the rock he had used as a weapon down just inside the rim of the pipe. Scanning the area Ben cannot see any zombies meandering about the area. He knows they are there they are always there. “I got nothing over here Sara.” He responds finally tuning around to face Sara down the length of the pipe. “Well ….” A man veiled in darkness croaks out between the two of them. His voice is little more than a strained wheeze. It comes in short breathless gasps. “We really … need … to get our asses in doors.” The man who had shared the drainage pipe with them all night finishes up. “What I need to do is get back to my family.” Ben’s voice is hard and cold like ice. “Then …” He begins to clench his fists. “I’m gonna take my trusty rock and bash The Sin Preacher’s head in.” Ben leans out the pipe one more time before stepping out cautiously onto the damp lush grass. “Sara I should have listened to you. I’m sorry ok?” Ben looks up staring past the crumpled form to Sara. Sara duck walks her mud covered bare body down next to the man. They make eye contact. “Look Mr. James.” Sara pauses. “You let me smash her head in and we can call it even deal?” She gives him a playful smile. Even caked with filth her dark beautiful features beam down the length of the pipe. “You ready Willie?” She asks eyeing Ben. “Yeah … yeah just need a shoulder to lean on.” Willie pivots with Sara at his back he scoots his way through stagnate foul smelling water towards Ben. Ben reaches out a helping hand. He assists the man out of the pipe that had been their shelter all night. Sara and Ben get their first glance at the man in the grimy orange prison jumpsuit.

 

   “So what were you in prison for Willie?” Sara asks hoping down from the pipe instinctively crouching low to the ground. “Uh …” Willie winces. “Drug dealing … pimping, murder ...” Willie huffs as he checks his offenses off mentally. “Pretty much all the things it takes to run a moderately successful drug outfit.” Ben takes Willie’s toned arm placing over his thick shoulder. He casts an untrustworthy glance at the light-skinned black man with corn rolls in his hair. Ben proceeds lock eyes with the man. His nose crinkles at the bridge. “So yeah nothing personal but I’ve had my fill of assholes in orange prison jumpsuits.” Sara snorts sarcastically attempting to get her bearings. “Well so have I.” Willie laughs his free arm makes its way to his left side. His hand covers a blossoming bloodstain there. Unlike the other bloodstains that cover Willie’s clothes. This one is still damp and seeping up from inside the jumpsuit. The laughter causes the man obvious excruciating pain. Willie’s face contorts as he tosses his head back. Ben pushes the thinner man off his shoulder. A look of fear races across Ben’s dirty face. “We’re you fucking bit?” Ben whispers angrily looking around. Willie shakes his head weakly. “No like I said last night.” He stops to draw in a few gasping breathes. “I was running from those zombie things.” Willie hangs like an unwanted child’s toy in Ben’s grip. He points up at the railroad trestle that had saved Ben and Sara the previous night. Ben notices the blade in the man’s hand for the first time. He uses his eyes to signal Sara. She returns a quick nod indicating her understanding. “I turned to looked back …” Willie stops looking about the immediate area. “I slipped and fell barely had time to catch myself. I smashed the shit out of my side. Think I probably fucked up a rib or two.” Ben slowly pulls the man back against him. “I dropped my pack in the water too.” Ben and Sara exchange a look of understanding. They recalled a splash in the river that drew the undead away from them last night. It was possible that Willie had inadvertently saved both their lives. Willie slaps his free hand against his hip in exasperation. The blood-caked prison made knife falls from his hand. Sara drops her rock snatching up the crudely made stabbing device. She walks it down to the edge of the dirty rainwater that had collected in the ditch. She rinses it off like an archaeologists with some ancient find they cannot readily identify. “My shiv….” Willie says smiling down at Sara. “Shiv” was right Sara though to herself. “The foot long blade appeared to have come from a bed rail of some sort. It was a dull silver the color of an old nickel. Its hilt tightly wrapped in some type of cheap once white cloth. Sara examined the weapon its tip filed to a point by repeated scrapes across some sort of stone. “Mind if I hold onto this?” She asks Willie without even looking up. “Nope she’s served me well.” Willie says squinting into the new day Sun. “I killed a lot of those undead bastards escaping that hell hole of a prison.” He hitched himself closer to Ben. “Now big fella … ah Ben I is it?” Benjamin James bobs his head deliberately. “Can we get some place a little safe that’s not a filled with stagnate water?”

 

  The waterlogged trio slowly moves up the hill rising up in front of them. Ben huffs gruffly. “We need to get back to the other side. Then work our way back to First New Faith.” Sara’s examines the rolling fields surrounding them cautiously. “Mr. James I agree we need to get back but we don’t exactly know which way is back.” They look to each other Sara sees the fear in Ben’s face. He knows she is correct their heads were down as the ghouls drove last night. They had lost all sense of direction. “I came from this way.” Willie speaks up motioning with his finger back over a grassy knoll. “Never made it to the side you guys came from.” Ben looks back over the rusted structure covered at each end with white spray painted graffiti. “When I fell it was all I could do to crawl back down into that damn pipe.” Ben’s eyes narrow into slits. “Shit.” He mumbles aloud. Sara and Willie turn to looks across the bridge as well. There were at least a dozen zombies shuffling out of a thicket of trees. Their slack jaws hung open as their out stretched arms pawed at the air. “Rotters ….” Sara mouthed. “Can they make it across there?” Willie asks. “Don’t know …” Ben tugs the man draped over him grabbing his belt lop. “Let’s move I aint sticking around here to find out if they can cross that’s for sure.” “Big man I passed some houses back up that way.” Willie interjects. They top the slight hill in front of them. The sight of a battered house greets them across the rolling expanse. Other houses dot the landscape they appear like dots further out from their position. “I count eight of them between us and that house Mr. James.” Sara stares down at some of the slow moving zombies who have already spotted them. They turn in mass hobbling on broken and dislocated limbs. From Behind them comes the sound of bodies hitting water. The dead are attempting to traverse the trestle with little or no success. “The sound will draw more of them out.” Sara remarks. “We can get to the house and plan our next move.” Ben takes his first tentative steps down the embankment on the slippery grass. He had grown accustomed to being naked but he would kill for a pair of shoes right about now. “Hey pretty lady …” Willie calls out a halfhearted sly grin on his face. “Don’t let them bunch up take’em on one at a time.” Sara nods dashing off in advance of the men. “Aim for the eye sockets with my baby … and she’ll do the rest.” A quick series of raspy coughs interrupts Willie’s next words. Sara is moving quickly towards the first Rotter in their path. Willie leans his head on Ben’s shoulder. “Dude a butt ass naked hot chick fighting zombies. We’re living every nerds dream.” Willie laughs causing bolts of pains to rocket up from his busted ribs. “Shut up.” Ben says stopping just short of dropping the convict. He was losing his fondness for the Willie faster than he thought possible. As he watches Sara go, his thoughts turn to his family. The last thing he was going to do was take a smart assed half-dead drug dealing murder back with him to rescue them.

 

   Private Sara Lockett takes bold strides through the thick wet grass. Her feet find it hard to maintain traction. She throws a peek back and Ben who is all but dragging Willie. Sara does not look ahead to the white house in the distance. She focuses on the dead thing lumbering towards her. It was more than likely female or had once been. The zombie front half is charred down to the bone is still smoking she noted. The zombie looks like a piece of meat from head to toe that someone forgot on a hot grill. Sara pays no mind to the warm sun on her bare skin. She tightens her grip on the shank Sara realizes clearly it is designed to stab not slash. The zombie moans as the space closes between them. Its arms raise up like a demented possessed puppet. The undead things eyes never leave Sara’s. They meet with Sara ducking low to avoid the zombie’s out stretched arms. She moves up from the side meaning to plunge the sharpened metal into her attacker’s eye socket. Her assault is halted mid-swing by the stench of burnt flesh. It reaches down into her painfully empty stomach. The vile smell draws dry heaves up from her gut. Sara feels the corpses sandpaper like scorched skin as its hands claws at her hair. “Sara!” Ben screams out. She ignores Ben concentrating on stifling the involuntary retching bringing acid up in her throat. Private Lockett grunts wind milling her hand in an arc. She drives the point of the metal deep into the Rotter’s eye socket. With a vicious twist of the shiv, the zombie falls to the sound of bones splintering. “Sara you ok?” Ben calls in a panic. Sara waves him off “yeah  ... yeah.” She breathes deeply her hands on her knees. “Fucking thing stank to high hell.” She hollers back. Sara stands up checking her surroundings. “Let’s keep moving right up the middle take the shortest route.” With that, Sara takes off at a trot. She encounters a dead man wearing thin wire rimmed glasses. She notices a hole in the dead man’s neck. Chucks of chewed flesh plop out the hole reminding Sara of a meat grinder. The thought fades from her mind as she pushes the shank into the zombie’s eye socket shattering the lens of its glasses. Sara lays the corpse down like a preacher baptizing a sinner. She steps over the body looking up the house is closer. There is only one zombie between them and the house. She can see the structure better now. Its white paint is chipping and the big two-story house looks rundown. There is a shiny metal ladder running up to the roof. It strikes her as the safest place to rest. This would give them ample time to scout the rest of the area. “How will we get Willie up there?” She hears reverberate though her mind. Suddenly a large rotund man appears standing on the roof of the enclosed back porch. He is wearing a pristine white tee shirt and grey jogging pants.

 

  The big round man holds a pink child’s plastic beach bucket of rainwater up taking a long drink from it. “Hey!” Sara calls out taking care not to wave the gore covered hand holding Willie’s prison shank. The balding man sports an atypical horseshoe of black hair around a large bald patch. He drops the bucket as a look of terror washes across his face. “Probably thinks we’re a couple of Trotters.” Sara mumbles to herself. The walking corpse nearest to her drags itself along on one good leg. The other scrapes the bare gravel covered area behind the house. The dead thing’s foot is twisted a hundred and eighty degrees behind it. Sara races up the rock-strewn path. The varying shaped stones begin to bite into her bare feet. She stands her ground rather than risk injuring her feet. “Can you help us we’re not zombies?” Sara shouts. The man looks like a scared rabbit ready to bolt, so she puts her attention back where it should be on the zombie. She takes a defensive stance and when the putrid teenager is close, enough she lashes out a foot into its thigh. Sara’s blow hits the damaged limb squarely dropping the corpse to its knees. She seizes the opportunity to stab the blade down into the top of the zombies head. The skull parts like broken china as Sara rotates it with both hands. Sara Lockett turns to see Ben James dragging Willie faster. The dead they had past once scattered about the vast field were now coming together in a loose pack. Sara looks over her shoulder casually. She watches the stout man step to the edge of the roof just above an aluminum ladder. For the briefest moment, she has a comical vision of the fat man in the grey jogging pants floating away like a balloon. Instead, he repositions himself and makes his way down the ladder. “No … no … nooo.” He scolds like a Sunday school teacher. The ladder clatters against the old house as his foot touches down onto the packed earth. “You can’t lead them here or they’ll comeback tonight.” He says to Private Lockett paying the attractive dark skinned girl no mind. “Yeah well tell me something I don’t know.” Sara rolls her eyes at the man. She drops her hands to her knees winded. “Sir I’ll take care of these few.” Sara points with her free hand at the zombies shambling across the field. She looks back at the house. “Do you have some place where we can rest up and maybe find some clothes?” The big man rubs his smooth red face lingering around his chin. Sara takes note of his freshly shaved face. He spins around eyes fixating on the house. He is briefly lost in his own thoughts before turning back to Sara. “Have any of y’all been bit or scratched by a zombie? On a count of the movies I done seen say that’s a bad thing.” Sara shakes her head to indicate “no.” “My friend and I found this guy when we went to hide in a drain pipe down by the river. He says he slipped and fell while crossing the railroad trestle.” Ben and Willie finally move into the conversation. “Hey can we get the fuck inside or what fat boy?” Willie blurts from Ben’s shoulder. Ben jostles the convict roughly repositioning him. He makes sure his displeasure is painfully evident. “Ahhhh …” Is the sole sound Willie can make as volcanic rush of red-hot agony grips his torso. “What my inconsiderate friend Willie meant to say is might we please come into your home to rest for a bit Sir?” “Sure Mister.” The man responds taking more notice of the tattered prison jumpsuit hanging loosely around Willie. It appears more disconcerting to the man than either of the naked people with him. “First we gots to kill all these damn zombies.” The man says as he walks back towards the house. “You can all rest here on the porch.” The man cocks his head down in the direction of three rickety white washed steps. The steps apparently compromised the back porch the man had made mention of. He grabbed a shovel that was propped up against the house.

 

  Sara looked to Ben. “Go with him.” He tells her counting the zombies who had pursued them. “Alright Mr. James but keep an eye out for stragglers.” She says sauntering behind their quirky savior. “Man that’s a fine piece bro you tappin’ that?” Willie asks watching Private Lockett leave. “No I’m married Willie and if you keep acting like an asshole. I’m going to punch you right in the middle of that bloodstain on your side.” Willie’s hands immediately move to cover his wounded side. “Look big man I’m sorry I been in jail for a couple of years dude no offense.” Willie offers up in his defense. “Well my friend let me make one thing clear. There are several women in our group.” Ben bites back his words thinking of the others locked in that church with a homicidal maniac. “And if you attempt anything remotely shady or ungentlemanly like. With God as my witness I will snap your legs and leave you for the zombies to play with.” Ben stares down at the injured man. His eyes narrow as he and Willie’s brown eyes meet. “Am I clear?” He asks Willie. “Crystal.” Willie utters looking paler than he had earlier. Ben does not know if its fear or blood loss and he does not care. Sara is hot on the portly man’s heels raising up the bloodied shiv. With a grunt, the man swings his shovel in a two-handed shoulder high semi-circle. “Name’s Lawrence Faulkner.” He shouts his black shovel blade connects with a pair of zombie’s heads. Both Rotters hit the ground in a heap. Lawrence diligently drives the blade down into the first dead man’s face. Moving quickly he stomps the blade down on the zombies undead companion’s head. He has the look of a farmer turning over soil with the shovel. Lawrence takes the top half of zombie’s heads off like splitting a melon. Lawrence walks down the slight slope of the hill. He pulls his shovel back up hearing four remaining straggling corpses. The undead pack makes their way towards the humans undeterred. Their ragged moans filtering out into the surrounding area. “Well Lawrence I’m Sara, the big naked black guy is Ben and the convict is Willie.” Sara pulls even with Lawrence. “We stumbled upon him last night.” Lawrence nods to Sara. “Well Ms. Sara if you don’t mind stepping back.” Lawrence shoos Sara back like a diligent big brother. “I’ll take care of these dead folks here.” He motions down towards the ever-advancing zombies. There are four of them making their way up the grassy incline. The first two zombies are male. “Sheriff Lee?” Lawrence speaks up his face a mixture of shock and remorse. He stares at the shredded arms of the walking corpse as they reach for him. The moment passes as Lawrence draws in a deep breath. He smashes the shovel blade down with an over handed swing. The sound of the shovel’s black blade fracturing the dead man’s head reverberates across the open field. The Sheriff drops to the ground instantly. The next zombie plods along tripping over the Sheriff falling face first in the dusty packed gravel. Sara swoops in plunging the shiv into the zombie’s ear. She does not stop twisting until the Rotter falls still. “Look out!” Lawrence shouts Sara cranes her head up to see an old white haired woman missing a sizable chunk of her face and most of her belly. The woman falls forward hoping to catch the nude young soldier. “I told you to stay back now.” Lawrence cautions her catching the zombie under its chin with his shovel blade. He holds the shovel’s handle as the corpse drives its face further down on the sharpened blade. Lawrence has the look of a man with a monstrous fish on his line. Sara stands to her feet falling behind Lawrence. The burly man wrenches the handles left then right. This causes the dead woman’s mandible to pop of her face. Viscera streams down the shovel handle as Lawrence pitches his catch backwards. He gags at the sight of the zombie’s tongue wetly slapping the back of the shovel’s blade. With one final thrust and the crunch of bone, mercifully the zombie goes still. Lawrence deposits her at the feet of the final Rotter that had pursued them. “Oh shit kill his ass!” Sara points but Lawrence does not turn in her direction. Sara recognizes the fat round Boss Hog looking Rotter in tight gym shorts. “He’s one of those smart ones; he and his buddies chased us last night.” She grits her teeth wanting to put the fat zombie down herself. Lawrence steadies his aim raising the shovels up as if it was a spear. He makes eye contact with the corpse for a fraction of a second and knows the girl is telling the truth. He stabs the shovel into the things face just above the bridge of its nose. The chubby dead man teeters over falling into the ground truly dead. Lawrence plants the shovel in the grass scanning the horizon looking all around. Breathing in deeply the big man seems to enjoy a moment of peace closing his eyes. Lawrence suns himself in the warms early morning sunlight and smiles. Blinking his eyes open, he does not see any of the undead. Once Lawrence is satisfied, he turns his attention to the zombies laying at his feet. He catches a glimpse of Sara’s backside as she hovers over the Sheriff. “Is he dead” He asks, “I mean really dead?” “Yep” says Sara. “Which is why he won’t need this gun.” She holds the pistol in the air her hands move in a blur as she checks the weapon dropping the magazine out before slamming it back in. “He won’t need these spare clips or these handcuffs either.” Sara looks back towards Ben and Willie. She wants the con to see her pulling the cuffs and a ring of keys free from the dead Sheriff. “Well so are these.” Lawrence waves a hand at the corpses in the dirt. “Miss Sara why don’t we get ourselves inside the house before more of them come snooping around?” Lawrence says as he lightly plants a hand on Sara’s elbow.

 

   “Alright folks follow me and don’t touch anything please.” Lawrence orders from the top of the steps. He pushes open the back door. What greets them is a blast of cold dank mustiness spilling out from a dark void. “Stay close to me.” Lawrence moves in first disappearing followed by Ben totting Willie. Sara brings up the rear pistol at the ready remembering the last time they dared to trust as stranger. She moves in and a cold chill draws goose bumps upon her dark sweaty skin. Unlike the First New Faith Baptist Church, this place is immediately foreboding. Sara’s mind goes back to the first time she entered the church. “If it’d felt like this I’d have turned right the fuck around” She thinks to herself. “Close the door.” Lawrence whispers and Sara does as instructed. The four of them are in pitch black cramped darkness. She feels trapped as the sound of paper rustling fills the air in the room. Sara reaches out placing a hand on Ben’s warm back for comfort. A light blazes to life in front of them. Lawrence is holding an oil-burning lantern up as if he is a train conductor. The orange flame casts light on the area around them. They are pinned into the wall by mountains of old newspapers and garbage. The stench causes Willie to gasps for breath. “What the fuck man …. I got asthma?” He wheezes trying desperately not to cough. “Me too …” Lawrence smiles broadly like he and Willie are members in some sort of secret club. The light thrown off by the lantern seems to make Lawrence’s round head glow. “Look guys I’m sorry my Ma’ she was a hoarder never threw nothing away.” Sara is aware the big man is sniffling. “When she and my Pa and Uncle left, I … well. I just didn’t have the heart to change anything.” Willie’s wheezing becomes more rapid. “Man this shit is sick fat boy!” He shouts covering his nose while hanging onto Ben. “Yeah I know it is.” Lawrence says solemnly. “It’s all I know … you know how I was raised.” Lawrence speaks up defensively. “You know how it is when a person who only speaks a foreign language that you don’t understand is trying to talk to you?” He sighs deeply as if troubled by a memory. “I mean you know they are speaking but you just can’t understand them. Well that’s what living with a person who is mentally ill is like.” Sara got it she understood fully what the man was saying. Her mind escaped the dank house and found its way to her grandfather all those thousands of miles away. Sara Lockett felt as though she might choke up herself. “To hell with that Sir I got one question.” Ben utters. “As your humbled guest I just need to know is it safe here?” Lawrence’s head perks up he lifts the lantern up with a smile. They can see a thin piece of dirty rope that vanishes into the darkness above them. “Yes … yes it is.” Lawrence grabs the cord. “Step back please.” He says as they all part ways Ben and Willie crush Sara into the corner against the door. With a simple tug on the rope from above comes the creak of wood. Before Ben and Will can react, a brown folded ladder appears. “Please be my guest.” Lawrence Falkner ushers the trio up the ladder staying behind drop a massive beam of wood into metal brackets barring the backdoor. He props his shovel against the door for safekeeping as well. Lawrence ascends the ladder behind his guest with a well-rehearsed ease. He finds them bottle necked at the top of the ladder in a tiny attic doorway. They stare out into a small dimly lit attic. The space is so immaculately clean that is almost hospital sterile.

 

 

Sara and Ben have made it through the night. They have met a few new people but their main goal remains the same. To get back to their people at The First New Faith Baptist Church. Their second goal appears to be the demise of The Sin Preacher.

 

 

  Come back and see what happens in Chapter 44 the week of March 30th!

 

 

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Chapter 42: Breaking Point

Chapter 42: Breaking Point

  Anne sits with her back against a warped wall covered in gaudy brown wallpaper. She is lost in a well of emotions. Hugging Belinda tightly to her chest as the girl sniffles. Brandon clutches his mother’s arm as they sit tightly packed in a room full of strangers. To her left Bianca Fullerton rocks back and forth. The woman chants “my baby” in a monotone chorus repeatedly. Her left eye is nearly swollen shut. Sitting at her side Dakota dozes all but ignored. Private Medina is perched in an old folding chair facing both women her back to the door. A few hours having passed since being locked up by the men of the church. They find themselves in the room on the opposite side of the church’s basement. Almost as soon as Ben and Sara had turned the corner heading into the Sin Preacher’s office. Several of the men from the church had barged in room. They seized the group’s weapons at gunpoint. The muscular older man they all called Colonel. Demanded Bianca surrender her now “fatherless” infant child. Jamal courageously came to Bianca’s defense. He was no match for the retired man of war. Colonel beat Jamal unconscious then ordered his minions to drag Jamal’s limp body out of the room. For what it was worth Bianca Fullerton resisted the maniacal man who demanded her baby. In one motion, he yanked the wailing baby from her mother’s out stretched arms. Grinning he dropped Bianca mid charge with a savage punch. The kind of sucker punch reserved for a bar room brawl. “Mrs. James ….” Medina speaks softly so as not to be heard over the undercurrent of background chatter buzzing about the room. “Mrs. James we have to do something.” Medina’s brown eyes fall upon the older woman. “Look it’s just us now and if we want to survive ladies we’re going to have to fight.” Anne meets Medina’s gaze her eyes narrowing. Anne’s eyes break away and probe the room around her. She sees several men of varying sizes and age. They sit scattered around the tightly packed room. The stench of unwashed humanity clogs the air around them. “We can’t do this alone Carlita.” Anne cautions the girl standing to her feet. “Mommy don’t go.” Belinda protests as her mother gently sets her down next to her brother. “I won’t honey trust me we need to help save daddy and everyone else.” Private Medina catches her by the arm. “Mrs. James the more people we talk to about escaping. The more likely we are to lose the element of surprise.” Anne wipes her tired eyes summoning up all the courage she can muster. “Mrs. James … Anne.” Carlita rises from the chair. Her first impulse to speak out quickly is overridden a surprised expression that cascades over her face. She feels a heavy familiar weight in her uniform pants leg pocket. Medina pats her pocket down like a kid searching for lost candy. The look on her face quickly flashes from excitement to day after Christmas disappointment. “Fuck.” She moans in exasperation. “I thought they forgot one of my weapons.” With that, Medina produces the handheld radio Anne’s father had given Ben. From the front of the cramped room, they can hear the jingle of keys muffled by the wooden door. Medina tosses the radio to Brandon. “Hide it lil man.”

 

  Medina creeps across the room as its other occupants draw back from the door. She crouches behind the door as she hears a key slide into the lock and turn. Private Medina steps up so as not to been seen through the gap between the door and its rusty hinges. She watches as a man walks in the room he is short and old with white hair his legs are so bowed its comical. Before the man, trailing him comes fully into view she swings upward connecting solidly with his jaw. As an afterthought, Private Medina delivers a solid kick to the old man’s back. He goes sprawling out across the dusty floor. She squares her shoulders fist up ready for the next person in line. Carlita is now face to battered face with Private Carson. She is less concerned with the half dozen men corralling the young bull of a soldier. The pistol parting the crowd floating in the grip of an unseen gunman is a bit more urgent of a matter “Move …” An all too familiar voice calls from the back of the packed staircase. The men part like the Red Sea as Colonel emerges from the darkened stairwell. Coming into the room, he casually steps over the man on the floor rubbing his chin. “Jesus Jon get up  ...” The lumbering man commands looking down. His gun aimed at the center of Carlita’s head. “And help Charlie up God knows he can’t get up on his own.” He says casting a dismissive glance at Charlie while rubbing his forehead. Medina is terrified watching the man knead the meat on his head with his mangled fingers. “I don’t know who I should hit you jackasses or her?” Colonel studies the young girl. “Stand down soldier.” He says lowering the pistol his eyes narrowing. “Aren’t any of you going to help her?” Anne screams beckoning the men around her to action. None of them moves some drop their heads in shame. “Hey were you with that big black guy and a female soldier?” A chunky Hispanic man calls out. “They paraded through here yesterday.” “Yes that was my husband.” Anne responds unsure of the man’s point. “I didn’t see any of you worrying about us. Not while you sat over there eating and enjoying yourselves.” The man stands defiantly rubbing his fingers though his thick bristly black facial hair. “You lost something …. Somebody lady is that it?” He says timidly looking around the room. “Well get in line what makes you so fucking special.” The man’s chest heaves up as he steadies himself. “I had to give up no to sacrifice my Abuela. That’s the price of life in this new age,” He says wiping a tear from his cheek. “Look outside see the alternative lady? Welcome to our hell.” Anne James is aware her legs are hinting at their impending failure. She steadies herself it is her turn to look down at the floor. Colonel looks about the room his smile spreading. Within seconds, his throws his head back in uproarious laughter. His underlings all join in filling the room with a sickening oily sound. Unlike the men in the room, Medina jumps at the chance. A swift kick to Colonel’s wrist sends his gun clattering to the floor. She swings for the man’s head only to have the blow blocked. The ruthless Colonel clamps down on her arm like a vise. He drives a calloused fist into Medina’s stomach. As the girl crumples, he hefts her up in an arc. Colonel takes two giant strides crossing the room. He slams Medina into the drywall above Brandon and Belinda’s heads. He turns away leaving her body embedded in the wall floating several feet off the floor. Colonel takes a second to rub his still aching side where Lockett had kicked him earlier. Carson bucks under the weight of the men holding him. “Careful boy I won’t go so easy on you.” Carson bites his lip in anger. “You’re a big man when it comes to fighting women.” Private Carson shouts angrily. Gravity takes hold of Medina tugging her from the cracking wall. She falls forward landing on the kids trailing dust and shards of plaster. Anne moves to her children. Colonel catches her by the arm. “Take a look bitch.” He whispers pulling her closely. “Understand what you’re up against.” He says, “Look at that gun on the floor.” Anne shoots a quick glance down at the pistol. “Let me see if one of you men is man enough to pick that gun. I’ll let you and yours go free.” He announces to the men around him seated on the floor. No man in the room even looks at the gun. Most of them actually attempt to appear as distracted as possible. “See that Mrs. James …..” Colonel shakes Anne to emphasize his words. “No one wants freedom anymore. They want protection and we give it to them with a healthy dose of God’s word.” Anne snatches herself away from her captor. “Say what you will Colonel.” Anne straightens looking Colonel in the face. “But there is nothing Godly going on in this false temple.” “Charlie pick up my damn gun.” Colonel barks his order. He turns to the crowd of men behind him. “Jon grab that trouble making heathen.” He points to Medina squirming on the floor. “The rest of you anybody no holding somebody grab a kid and the chick with the shiner.” Colonel pulls Anne roughly down a long dim hall lined with people on either side. Ahead of them is an open door. Without a word, he shoves Anne into the room. She lands painfully on her tender foot. Anne comes to rest on a small table similar to kind found in almost any kindergarten classroom. “Everybody get out now!” Colonel screams a vein rockets up the side of his neck pulsating as it goes. Women screech a few children whimper as people scatter from the room like vermin in the light. They run head long into the troop barreling in behind Colonel. He stares at the remaining people gathering their meager belongings before fleeing in terror. Men begin to drop bodies all around her. The group holding Carson does not release their hold on the young man. They wrestle him into the center of the room. Anne watches them go her attention focused on Carson. She does not see BC deposit Chip on the floor. “Chip honey ….” Anne cries crawling over to her son. BC stalks over to Chip placing a booted foot on the boy’s hand. “Not so tough without your wheelchair are ya boy?” He laughs his meaty face jiggling. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard anybody say hick.” Chip responds with a smile. BC presses his heavy foot down causing Chip to wince. “You leave my Chippy alone!” Belinda yells with all the force her little lungs can muster. She is on her feet moving around overturned chair. BC watches the child come at him in a huff. “Little girl…” BC begins to say grinning. Belinda’s tiny hand delivers a solid blow to his testicles. He topples backwards clutching his nuts. Belinda falls down into her brother’s arms tears in her light brown eyes. She examines her big brother’s hand. “Oh God I’m surrounded by idiots.” Colonel shouts in exasperation. “If I had to go into combat with you shit kickers and clod hoppers. I’d kill you myself.” He glares at the men holding Carson. He studies the boy as if he were a wild animal they were preparing to release back into its native habitat. Colonel storms over to Charlie tugging his pistol from the man’s waistband. “You will be locked in this room.” He tells the James Clan. “There will be two armed me posted outside the door all night.” Colonel sizes up the men around him. He sees two younger church members strapping husky young men in their mid-twenties. “You two boys have just been voluntold.” He motions to the pair. “Do you each have a weapon?” “Yes Colonel.” The taller of the two men answers producing a revolver from his back. His new partner hunches his shoulders. “We’ll get you a weapon son.” Colonel tells the other man he assigned to guard the room. “Listen up if this door knob so much as jiggles. One of these boys will come get me. Then I will toss one of you outside at sunset.” He cocks the slide back on the pistol. “Now test me if you want.” Colonel points the gun menacingly in Private Carson’s direction. “Listen up young buck.” He offers up eyeing the boy up and down sizing up the threat. “My people are going to let you go and we are going to exit this room.” He turns the gun down on the women and children on the floor. “If you move from that spot I’m going to empty my clip into you little family circle here understand?” Carson simply shakes his head reluctantly acknowledging his agreement. “Now BC get your ass up man and can we please manage to get out of here without another one of you. Either getting hit with a hammer, beat up by a cripple, knocked out by a woman, or kicked in the ballsack by a first grader?” BC gets up and scurries past Colonel a hand gingerly cupping his crotch. The big man backs out of the room pistol held high smiling. The door closes with a clap. The sound of a deadbolt lock deploying echoes across the tiny classroom. “Here’s a pistol.” They hear mumbled through the thin wooden door.

 

  The hours pass by quietly as the group settles into a general state of hopelessness. Chip and Private Carson told their tale of how the men had ambushed them. Carson explained that the men were acting on direct orders of The Sin Preacher. He even gleefully shares how Chip had fought back against injuring Silas Proctor. His face beams with the wide-eyed pride of a proud big brother. Anne puts on as brave of a face as she can. Her heart aches for Ben. She misses her husband and cannot imagine leading the family though this apocalyptic nightmare without him. Before they know it the beat up church speakers overhead burst to life. Anne cannot help the gut wrenching moan that escapes from her throat. Chip crawls over to his mother taking her in his arms. “Mom … Mom.” The handicapped teen pleads. Chip’s eyes begin welling up with sorrowful tears. Anne gives into her son’s unyielding hug. Benjamin James junior tugs his little brother and sister embrace. The Sin Preacher begins her nightly sermon. Unknown to the group gather below. The sermon tonight had a pair of very special guest. Everyone in the room that had come together over the last few days knows the sun has set. It was Anne’s turn to wail inconsolably. “Ben …” she cries out. Thirty minutes later sleep finally pulls Anne James from her heartbroken delirium.

 

   “What’s that?” Brandon shakes his mother awake in the middle of the night. Anne is groggy her eyes blurred and puffy from crying. “I heard something mom.” Brandon insist. “Me too.” Carson whispers before kneeling down next to the family on the floor. “Did it come from the door?” Anne inquires her voice is low but filled with alarm. Carson shakes his head “no” vigorously. More of the group about the room stir awake. Overhead The Sin Preacher prattles on her devout words flow forth in a torrent. “Was it thunder?” Brandon asks to no one in general. Carson holds up a finger to his lips to silence around him. “Carson …” Chip calls quietly. Without his chair, Chip has to salamander crawl over to Private Carson. “It came from back there.” He gestures with a gloved hand to the rear of the classroom. There is a set of canary yellow closet doors built into the wall. The doors have paintings of rainbows and caricatures of Jesus. The room and its décor would fit into almost any church basement in America. Carson nods towards Chip. Carson stands pointing down at Chip. “Are you with me bro?” He asks his eyes never leave the doors. “Yeah man I’m right behind you.” Chip motions for his family to retreat further back towards the door. “Carson you go high and I’ll go low” Comments Chip. Carson stops in his tracks looking down at Chip a smirk on his face. Chip holds up a hand he beckons Carson down to his level. “Look I don’t have my chair so I’m of little use bro.” “Bullshit …” Carson interrupts Chip’s pity party. “I got something for you though.” Chip says fishing through his pants pocket. He comes up with the pistol his father had given him. “Nobody thought to pat down the cripple kid I guess.” A wide smile grows on Chip’s face. He props himself up like a tripod aiming high at the closet door. “I don’t have my Lucky Mallet Carson but I got your back.” Chip brushes his sandy colored hair from his face.    

 

  The door slides open revealing a deep back void. Brother Gustavo appears from the inky blackness. The tall lanky man stands upright. Brother Gustavo’s eyes are appear to bug out almost completely from his head. They appear red and he looks exhausted. His neat black pompadour is now a tangled bird’s nest of hair. Cobwebs cling to his hair billowing in the breeze as he walks. His skin is so pale he looks ill. Gustavo’s pristine white uniform is rumpled and filthy. Private Carson braces himself in a boxer’s stance. Gustavo moves past him with nary a glance. Carson believes for the briefest that second the ice cream man is one of those “smart” zombies. If the man sees Chip on the floor nervously pointing the revolver up at him, he does not show it. He brushes past the handicapped teen knocking the gun from his grasp. “Forgive me I know it’s late.” He implores Brother Gustavo’s cool easy demeanor is now a distant memory. “Mrs. James can I please have a word with you?” He asks his voice gravely whisper. Anne cannot hide the fact that she clearly taken aback briefly scanning the room. “Uh Brother Gustavo please I have had a hard day.” Anne gives back a slight hint of frustration in her voice. “Your pastor took my husband and Sara away.” Brother Gustavo nods his head in understanding. “I know Ma’am … I know.”  Brother Gustavo’s head hangs so long his chin touches his chest. He falls to his knees before Anne startling her and the children. “Please …. Please Mrs. James.” He begins to beg desperately. His steeples his long fingers together tears welling up in his eyes. “I can help you Mrs. James please.” He reaches for her hands trembling. “If you help me I will try to get you and your people out of here.” Anne cannot help herself she takes the man’s unsteady hands in hers. “OK … ok…” She murmurs looking back at the door. A loud crack of thunder causes the children to jump. She wonders about the two guards on the other side. “Will you help us escape and help me find my husband and Sara?” “Yes …” He whines leaning forward placing his head on her hands. “But you must help me first Mrs. James please.” Brother Gustavo sobs heavily once. “Ok  ... ok alright. What do you need Brother Gustavo?” He looks up from her hand a faint smile in his wet tired eyes. He awkwardly scoots on his knees like a child closer to Anne. “Please tell me who said ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”

 

 Anne’s face contorts in confusion. The feeling grows two fold as she peers back at her son. A thin impish smile crosses Chip’s lips. “I … don’t understand Brother Gustavo.” She answers breathlessly. “Who said it!” he barks tightening his grip on Anne’s hand. “You’re hurting me.” Anne struggles to break free. Chip and Carson close in from behind Gustavo. “You’re boy …..” Gustavo spins releasing Anne’s hand. He points an accusatory finger at Chip that seems to freeze him in place. “He told me that it was not in the Bible and that Benjamin Franklin said it.” Anne slowly stands feeling a dull ache in her foot. “Well he was right Brother Gustavo Benjamin Franklin did say that and it’s not in the bible.” Anne intentionally steps away from the children and Bianca Fullerton. She is back peddling towards Chip and Carson. Brother Gustavo covers his face with his hands. Soon the room fills with the soft unmistakable sounds of Brother Gustavo weeping. Anne stops and reverses direction she moves for Brother Gustavo. Chip tugs on her legs Anne looks down to see her son shaking his head boldly. She gently pulls her leg from her son kneeling down. “He’s hurting honey.” Anne takes her son’s chin. “We need him as much as he needs us.” Anne kisses Chip’s forehead causing him to blush furiously. “Brother … Gustavo.” Anne calls to the man as he sits prostrate on the floor. “Why does what Ben Franklin said trouble you so.” Anne comes to his side placing a caring arm around his shoulder. “It’s not what he said.” Brother Gustavo says through sniffles. “It is what it means to me Mrs. James.” Brother Gustavo speaks as he slowly pulls hands away from his face. He looks into Anne’s eyes. “I know that what you say is right. If you take it with everything I’ve seen and what I know to be true.” He absently wipes the back of his hand across his nose. “I have been used, I am still a sinner, and just as damaged as I ever was.” It slowly dawns on Anne what Brother Gustavo is saying. “Look Gustavo I don’t know what The Sin Preacher promised you but she can’t make you whole.” More thunder crackles from the wailing storm shaking the church. Anne leans in close. “It’s time for you to be your own man. You have to stop looking for a man or in your case a woman to provide you all the answers.” Gustavo uses his sleeves to dry his eyes like a kid. “Romans Chapter three verse twenty three.” Brother Gustavo pushes his lanky body off the floor. “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.” He runs his fingers through his hair. Brother Gustavo stands shivering peering up at the celling. “Gustavo you need to do more than quote the Bible.” Anne cautions Gustavo. “Do you understand what that means?” She inquires. “Yes Mrs. James I do.” He brushes his uniform attempting in vain to restore it. “What about my husband and Sara Brother Gustavo?” Anne guides the conversation by to her direct need. “Can you help them too?” “No Mrs. James the Sin Preacher cast them both out tonight.” He replies staring blankly ahead.

 

    “Daddy …. Daddy … Daddy!” Belinda cries out. Chip “shushes” his sister. Anne cannot believe what she has heard. “Hey shut the hell up in there!” A voice shouts from the other side of the door. Brother Gustavo seems startled by at sound of the man’s voice. In two huge steps, he leaps behind a tattered grey couch. The door opens “Keep quite in here or else.” One of the men orders peeking his head into the room. “She had a nightmare.” Chip fumbles rocking his baby sister in his lap. He keeps his gloved hand positioned near B’s mouth just in case. “Well keep her quite or else I’m going to get Colonel.” He chuckles nudging his partner. As the door closes, no one in the group speaks. They stand frozen in place statuesque each digesting the news Brother Gustavo has deliver. Anne races over to the man behind couch. “Gustavo please ...” She grabs his arm. “It is my turn now to beg you.” Anne does not attempt to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. “Can you go out and save my husband and Sara?” He swallows hard his mouth opens but no words come out. Sound finally spill from his lips. “No Mrs. James I can’t.” He pats Anne’s hand on his arm. “It would risk all of our lives.” He holds up a finger to silence Anne. “Listen Mrs. James …. Listen everyone.” He prods Anne back among her children. “There are dozens of those smart zombie things in the church rectory above you. She preaches to them every night and leaves a recording playing during the day time.” The news comes down like a hammer to the survivors. “She …. The Sin Preacher I mean had me corral a lot them but only the smart ones. She wants to use them to help her take over an underground military base near here.” “Wait they listen to her.” Carson blurts. “Yes they do for the time being anyway.” Gustavo answers. “In the morning they stand around in the pews. We keep them locked in. At night she sets them free to hunt and bring more of their kind back.” Gustavo fidgets in place. His minds tells him these people will grow to hate him too. After all he has done in his life following misguided prophets from one town to the next before settling here. “She has a deal with the ‘Unclean’ as she calls them.” He sighs “We protect them during the day and they leave us be at night.” He stares at the speakers on the wall as if he can see through it. “Their numbers grow nightly she has an army that out numbers us two time over. We need to leave this place. This flock and their shepherd have made a literal deal with the devil.” “Do they know?” Anne stammers. “The other people in here, the members of her church, her flock.” Gustavo shakes his head. “No they don’t know. The only people who know the truth are she and I. Not even her precious Colonel is aware of her true nature.” Brother Gustavo heads back into the closet. His chest puffed out with confidence far from the man he was when he entered. He disappears closing the door behind himself like a cheap magician. In his mind, he prays for once in his life with his own words. Right now, he wants to save that woman’s baby and the James family that is all. Thunder shakes the walls of The First New Faith Baptist church from the angry sky outside.

 

 

 

     So it appears as though Brother Gustavo's faith in the Sin Preacher has been shaken. Will he be able to help the remaining survivors escape. Can he save baby Cammy for the gruesome fate that awaits her?

 

   I hope to see you all back her the week of February 2nd for Chapter 43 of The Living Dark to answer those questions and more. 

 

 

 

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Sincerely:

 

 

The Living Dark

 

Chapter 41: Nightlife

Chapter 41: Nightlife

 

  Humidity creeps into the cool night air. Inside the old well-kept wood paneled station wagon. There is an odd assortment of beings this night. The battered station wagon looks suspiciously like the one from those old National Lampoon’s movies. It casually navigates the muddy back roads of this rural area. Distant claps of thunder interrupt the conversation between two of the car’s occupants. As two others lay curled in the fetal position on the floor behind the front seats. “Lawson ….” Hobart questions his fellow zombie from the passenger seat. Lawson who is focused on driving cuts his eyes in his passenger’s general direction. “What Hobart?” The one time death row inmate turned sentient walking corpse responds. His voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. “It’s been a while since I drove and I’m tryin’ to concentrate dumbass.” He tells the dead man in the grimy prison guard uniform. Hobart himself is lost picking at the bone fragments around his shattered eye socket. “Bro just want to know why you trust that nutty ass Sin Preacher chick so much.” Lawson takes his attention from the road as plump raindrops begin to pelt the car. He stares down Hobart his cloudy orange eyes narrowing into slits. “Nah no disrespect Ian ….” Hobart holds his hands up in an effort to indicate his submission. “Just saying man you ran the biggest prison in the state from death row.” Hobart fumbles over his words. “Whatever you wanted you got every guard, every inmate was terrified of you. Now you’ve signed on with that robed bitch. It’s like to you her word as law.” The sound of Lawson’s knuckles cracking as he grips the steering reverberate about the car. “First off motherfucker …” Lawson snarls through gritted teeth. “Do I have to remind you who the fuck you are talking to?” Lawson’s right hand snakes out. He stabs two fingers into the black gooey hole where Hobart’s left eye had once been. Lawson pulls the dead guard to him like he’s grabbing an unruly fish by the gills. “Law … Lawson.” Hobart cries flailing around the front seat of the car. Slamming on the car’s brakes Lawson causes the vehicle to slide sideways on the rain soaked muddy road. Ian Lawson yanks Hobart’s face as close as he can to his own. For a brief moment the only sound in the car is rain drumming off metal. Ian the undead serial killer takes the time to deviously wiggle his fingers in to slimy goo inside Hobart’s skull. This odd sensation brings renewed protest from Hobart. “Bro …. Bro please.” “Shut up bitch!” Lawson screams out. “Remember Hobart I aint forgotten I’m a damn zombie because of yo stupid ass boy. You might be dead punk but I can still make you hurt.” The killer exercises complete control over Hobart. He slaps Hobart’s head viciously off the dashboard twice before slowly withdrawing his fingers from Hobart’s eye socket. “You just one eye away from being blind bitch!” Lawson points with the same two fingers that he’d seized the man’s diseased head with. A deep red mixture of fluids fly from their tips as he points. “Do I make myself clear boy?” Lawson asks Hobart who has drawn himself back against the window like a frightened child. “Yeah ….. Yeah bro.” Hobart’s hands tremble as they nervously make their way up to the hole in his face. “Let’s get one thing straight boy. That bitch says she can get us into a military base full of living warm human meat. When she done served her purpose just like you. I’ll get rid of you both and anybody else who tries to control me.” Hobart swallows hard. His dry sickly colored tongue literally sticking in his throat. “Hey …. Man I ... I’m with you bro. You and me Lawson we a team bro…… a team.” Hobart shouts. Ian shakes his head emitting an audible chuckle. “I got a prison guard for a bitch.” The smirk fades from his face as he cranes his head forward. Lawson peers from the car’s windshield at the sky.

 

    Rain was pouring down trying in vain to cleanse the now polluted planet. Ian’s mood darkened to match the atmosphere outside. He’d been imprisoned so long he’d forgotten how beautiful the sky was. Now these cursed clouds obscured his vision of the stunning ribbons of orange light that cascaded across the night sky. “Let’s do this.” Lawson announces. “Come on lil piggies.” Lawson roars stepping out of the car into the downpour. He leaves his door open and the car running. Lawson drags Ben roughly from the back seat dropping him in the cool wet muck. He looks down at the naked black man whose hands are tied at the wrist. “I got the bitch Lawson!” Hobart calls over the rain and thunder. On the other side of the station wagon Hobart takes his sweet time pulling Private Lockett from the car. He makes sure his cold clammy hands linger on her exposed breast. He pulls the young soldier by her bound wrist like an ornery pack mule. Sara is dumped in the mud next to Ben. Hobart casually steps backwards behind Lawson his job done. Rain falls in sheets so dense it’s hard to see more than a few feet in any direction. “Now meat ….” Lawson addresses the pair of humans on the ground at his feet. “Dead or alive my word is my bond.” He wipes the rivulets of rain water from his face. “So I won’t kill your asses this time but the next time I see you piglets.” Lawson advances slowly squatting his booted feet sinking in to the thick mud. “I will tear you apart with my teeth. Take heart though yo friends and shit back at that church.” Lawson’s lips pull back into a sinister sneer. “I assure you they are going to die by my hands while pleading for God take them.” He looks back a Hobart. The dead man is staring up letting the rain pool in hole in his face. Lawson clears his throat standing up. “Huh?!” Lawson snaps back. “Uh yeah motherfuckers y’all is dead!” He utters comically as Lawson brushes past Hobart paying him no mind. “Get in the car you fucking moron.” Lawson says shaking his head in disgust. Hobart zips off around the car to the passenger side afraid of displeasing Ian. Lawson stops leaning on the open door. Without warning he leans into the car pounding his fist down on the steering wheel. The horn blares out cutting through the symphony of rain and thunder. “Wooooooo! Woooooooooooo! Cooooooooome and geeeeeeeeetttt it!” Lawson hoots and hollers into the night. He laughs like the maniac as Hobart ever the follower joins in. “Human Sushi!” Hobart adds drumming on the car’s roof. The horn falls silent and all that’s left is the sound of pouring rain.

 

 

  Ben gets up to his knees then he stands upright. Leaning down taking Sara’s arm he never takes his eyes off their captors. “Get up now!” He tells the girl tugging at her by the arms. “Sara … Sara there’s a path over there come on!” He tries to keep his voice low so the ghouls won’t hear him. “Hey piggies have you ever heard of fast food?” Lawson shouts cupping his hands over his mouth pointing into the darkness. “Well y’all best be faster food.” Ben turns back looking over his shoulder. He’s distracted by the odd sensation of mud squishing between his toes. Ben watches the darkness in the distance. His vision is obscured by the driving rain. There he sees them where there was nothing before a pair of orange dots floating in the distance. A dazzling bolt of lightning illuminates the area. Ben catches a glimpse of a figure moving their way. He’s frozen in place the mud around his ankles now feels like cement. Instinctively he pulls Sara close to him. He does so in the same manner strangers seated next to each other on a plane. Holding hands as they plummet towards the ground seeking a few precious seconds of comfort. He begins to back pedal when he’s greeted another flash from the sky. Where the lone shadowy figure had once been there were now dozens. Ghostly eyes hover about the landscape menacingly. The glowing orange eyes reflect each jagged bolt of lightning. Ben can’t stop a shiver from running up his back. The eyes appear to float adrift in a sea of black riding an unseen current their way. They all look as if to be headed to where Ben and Sara now stand. More lightning there are now dozens of forms coming through the darkness. Glowing eyes dot the night from as far back as they can see. “Sara we gotta go.” Ben yanks Sara along as he passes the car cautiously. He sees their one time abductors grinning back at them. Ben feels paved asphalt under his feet as he and Sara take off at a dead sprint down a scenic river bike path. “Over here!” Ben hears someone scream from behind them as the rain drowns out the voices. He can only hear thunder and rain in addition to the sounds of their muddy feet slapping the ground. “Stay close Sara.” Ben tells Sara looking over his shoulder. He goes to work on the restraints with his teeth. Ben gets the rope’s knot to loosen and starts to wiggle his beefy hands free. “Ben I can’t get mine …” Sara says in a panic. “I’ll get yours when we get a chance to hide.” Ben squints through the rain driving before him. He sees a black shape floating in the air up ahead of them. “They are coming for us Ben I can hear shouts.” Sara wails as the rain washes the mud from her face into her mouth. “Don’t stop Sara we can use the rain for cover. Nothing’s gonna stop me from getting back to my family.” Ben’s emotional words come from his heart but his physical heart feels like it’s ready to implode inside his chest. He doesn’t stop reaching back taking hold of Sara’s bound wrist. They run on together each one occasionally glancing over their shoulder searching the shadows for their pursuers. Sara is slowly pulling ahead of Ben fueled by a steady flow of terror and adrenaline.

 

  “Hey Lawson why the fuck we still here?” Hobart calls out over the thick grey sheets of rain. He leans on the passenger side of the station wagon waiting for his answer. “I figure we are do for some guest.” Lawson squints his dead eyes peering at the forms emerging from the shroud of rain. A dazzling bolt of lightning illuminates the area before them. Emerging from the downpour is a teaming mass of the undead. Rotters sprint into the picture driven by hunger for live human flesh. Behind them Trotters meander about on unsure footing. The less coordinated dull zombies fall about in the thick muddy farm fields around them. Lawson realizes the snarling cadavers vaulting from the cloak of water aren’t stopping. Their dead eyes can’t discern warm blooded bodies from the putrid decaying mobile corpses of their kin. Lawson is aware his brethren are hunting based on the shape of their prey. “Shit.” Lawson sighs as the heavy wet footsteps beat nearer to him. The rage in the howls of the zombie nearest to him brings out his own inner demons. The first cold body to jump him is a tall lean form shaped like a man. It lunges forward just as Lawson steps gracefully to the side. “You motherfuckers really need to learn to control y’all selves.” He barks catching the running corpse by the scruff of his neck. Lawson whirls around with the corpse in hand using its own momentum to his advantage. He propels the dead man’s head into the car’s rear passenger door. There is a loud crack like a tree branch snapping. The zombie goes limp in his grip in the same motion Ian Lawson pirouettes to face the next corpse. He lashes out in a blur propelling his calloused fist into the screaming woman’s face. Her head whips back as he catches her by her filthy blouse. Lawson takes the zombie to the ground dragging her over to the open car door. Lawson holds the flailing zombie with his right hand like a snake handler. Lawson uses his right hand to grasp the still open car door. He begins to slam the shrieking zombie’s head between the door and the frame. The blows from the door come in rapid succession as Lawson’s rage reaches a volcanic boiling point. “You ……” He screams out slamming the door over and over in a blur. “Need to …..” Lawson pauses calmly. Looking over at Hobart who is standing with his fetid mouth wide open catching rain. “Control yo’selves!” The final vicious blow from the door crushes the zombie’s head. Lawson looks down watching the decaying woman’s headless body twitch about in the mud. Lawson releases the door turning about slowly. He walks towards the gathering horde of zombies.

 

  The dead can see now that he is one of them. “We just let loose a couple naked darkies.” Lawson looks at the zombies gathered around him. He points through the veil of rain down the pathway where Sara and Ben had disappeared. “What do you mean you idiot?” A fidgety woman shouts angrily pushing her way through the crowd. “Why in the fuck wouldn’t you chase them down yourselves? You two pretty boys in the habit of sharing your food?” She mocks stepping up into Ian’s face. “Other than that prison jumpsuit what makes you any different from us?” She says challenging the killer. Lawson takes his time looking the ghoul up and down. His eyes linger on the curves of her breast underneath her blood caked t-shirt. A rotter slowly shuffles between them with his dull cloudy eyes staring down the bike path. The zombies moan causes the others like him to ring their vocal dinner bell. The mindless walking corpses ignore the infected casually fighting amongst themselves. They sense the warmth through the rain left by the fleeing humans. “Where the hell all these dummies goin’?” Hobart asks over the top of the car. “They can sense warmth from those two we turned loose I bet.” Ian chuckles. The rest of you festering fuckers are too smart for yo own good.” Ian Lawson blurts. Those dumb rotten sacks of maggot food go on base instinct. I suggest you folks beat them to dinner cause they tend to make a mess of things when they get there first.” A few of the sentient zombies look around at each other. “Fuck that!” A short bald man dressed like a high school gym teacher spits as he turns to run. He opens the proverbial flood gates as wailing zombies follow him. They plow head long into the slow moving pack of zombies trampling them under feet. Bones are broken in a collision of the undead. Some Rotters find themselves pushed by frantic undead hands into the slow moving river besides the bike path. “Get in the car Hobart.” Lawson commands lowering himself back into the idling vehicle. “You didn’t answer my questions asshole.” A woman’s raspy voice barks from the backseat. Lawson turns about in the driver’s seat to face the woman as she slams her door shut. Here in the cabin of the dimly lit car he can see the flesh torn from the back of her neck. The bones visible there appear to be an impossible shade of white to his foggy eyes. “What makes me different you ask?” Lawson says. In the blink of an eye his hand is around her throat. Yet she doesn’t flinch an evil smile coming to roost on her face. “What makes me different bitch is that I killed before all this …. Before death was fashionable.” His grip tightens fingers burrowing into the dead woman’s neck. Hobart watches the scene unfold with all the glee of a child watching his idol sign an autograph. “Unlike you … you dead rotten piece of shit.” He whispers pulling the woman’s face up to his. “Dead or alive I can control my urges to kill.” Lawson shoves the ghoul back into her seat. She bounces up and down clapping “We’re gonna have so much fun boys!” Lawson throws the car into gear pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The car fishtails through the muck as Ian heads back to the church.

 

 

   Ben’s age was catching up with him. He was behind Sara and even with her hands bound she was widening the gap between them. Her bare feet slap the paved blacktop of the bike path rhythmically. Then she vanishes into the dark rainy night. From behind them they hear their hunters. Ben wheezes struggling to keep his footing. Suddenly the rain is gone replace by steady streams of dripping water. Ben spins around to find Sara looking up. Her index finger pressed to her lips to silence Ben. “We have to get up there now.” Ben looks up to see they are standing under a rusty black railroad trestle. Ben scans the length of the old structure as it crosses over the river into the darkness. The train tacks only serve to slow the cloud burst spilling from the heavens. “Ben we have to get up there. It’s our only hope we can’t out run these things.” Sara taps Ben’s shoulder he subconsciously notices her smooth wet naked body for the first time. “Hey can we focus here Mr. James.” She snaps at him. “My tits have been out all evening and it doesn’t look like I’ll be covering them anytime soon.” She glances back the way they’d come. Ben feels flushed like a school boy. He realizes the only thing keeping the blush from showing on his cheeks is the pigment in his skin. Sara squats with her bound hands out motioning for Ben to step up. “Mr. James hurry the hell up.” She yelps startling Ben into action. The trestle is only a few feet above their heads. Ben braces himself placing a meaty foot into Sara’s palms. “On ‘go’.” Sara Lockett instructs Ben. “Oh and Mr. James please try and keep your balls outta my face on your way up.” Ben feels a new rush of warmth bubbling up his neck into his cheeks. “I uh ah …” Is all he can manage stammering. “Go.” Sara orders pushing upwards with her hands interlocked as Ben stretches out above her. His fingers clasp the cold metal and Ben pulls his girth upwards. He struggles to finagle his girth up into the narrow opening on the trestle’s bottom. The cackling dead draw closer to their quarry. Ben braces himself between the steel sides of the trestle. “Gimme your hands Sara quick.” Ben calls out thrusting his hand down towards the female soldier. With his body braced looking down Ben tugs Sara up with ease. He grunts softly Sara takes a hold of the side of the rusty metal next to him. She joins Ben pressed against the side of the railroad bridge. Seconds later zombies’ race into view below them. The pair cling to each other breathlessly just out of sight of the living dead below them. “They lied to us played us for fools!” The chubby gym teacher growls pacing back and forth. “Bastards ….” A dead man missing both his arms next to him scowls. Soon they are joined by a throng of enraged zombies. Ben and Sara watch the crowd growing mere feet below them. An ill-timed bolt of lightning lights the surreal scene. “Wait did you see that?” The armless corpse asks. “See what?!” the gym teacher shouts. “Up there I thought I saw something.” The armless zombies attempts to direct the group’s attention up to the trestle. “Up there you jackasses.” He cocks his chin up. In the distance the sound of something falling into the cold black water of the river breaks the stalemate. “They’re in the water …..” the gym teacher shouts running off. “We’rrrrrrrreeeee coming you fuckers.” The dead man laughs. Like festering lemming the remaining zombies follow him. Except for the armless man he stands underneath the bridge squinting upwards through the dripping rain and his cloudy eyes. Ben is aware of Sara’s warmth pressed against him. He doesn’t know how long he can hold his breath. Sara squeezes his hand. The dead man loses interest he takes off after his pack.

 

  “Thank God.” Sara whispers in Ben’s ear. “Alright let’s move this way.” Ben states they begin to make their way down the iron frame of the trestle. Soon they find themselves out over the shallow icy water of the river. “Where does this thing go Mr. James?” Sara murmurs. “I don’t know …. The other side of the river I guess.” Ben responds as they move hand over hand balancing on a thin ledge of dusty steel. Ben can see the river bank on the opposite side. “We crawl up then stay low.” Ben tells Sara over his shoulder. “Ok I say we hunker down til morning.” Sara responds. Soon they come to the end of the trestle Ben holds his hand up as a signal. Sara stops as he pokes his head up between the old battered railroad ties like a frightened prairie dog. “Let’s go.” He murmurs ducking back under the trestle. Ben groans as he wiggles his burly frame up onto the railroad tracks. Once more he reaches down to give Sara a hand up. From their blind side Ben vanishes taken off his feet by a shadow. Someone pounces yelling “Gotcha ….” Ben’s blindsided by a shadow. Sara is stunned as Ben and the shapeless form tumble down an embankment into a drainage culvert. They hit the water with a splash. Private Lockett gnaws at the rope cinched painfully around her wrist. She feels the rope loosening as she bites like a crazed animal. Down in the drainage ditch she can see the oddly shaped figure straddling Ben. The murky runoff water is only about two feet deep. “Oh God!’ Sarah exclaims. She can see the figure sitting atop an apparently dazed Ben. It was the armless zombie who’d lingered behind after the others. Finally she frees her hands dropping the rope at her feet. Sara scans the area in a panic she grabs the only thing she can a large brick. Sara leaps down the slope towards the bodies thrashing in the river runoff. “So those assholes weren’t …..” The zombie atop Benjamin James never finishes his thought. Sara slaloms on her bare feet down the waterlogged grassy embankment. With a grunt she smashes the brick into the dead man’s skull with both hands. Bones crunch like breaking china as the zombie pitches forward into the water. “Over here!!” A voice calls from beyond the curtain of rain. “Come on Ben we gotta move.” Sarah whispers in a harsh hushed tone. She directs her large companion to a drain pipe two feet wide running under the road above them. Ben moves slowly climbing up and in the chrome opening. “Here ….” Sara hands him her lethal brick. “You watch that end.” Sara points through the trash filled drainpipe. Ben can see light at the pipe’s other end. “Ok …” He mumbles. Sara reaches down in the muck finding a jagged chunk of concrete. She leaves the crumpled zombie behind crawling into the pipe staring at Ben’s back. She turns the opposite way as they squat back to back. “You and me Mr. James.” Sara swallows hard water running down her face. “Please …” Ben huffs quietly through gasps of air. “Call me Ben … Sara after all we’ve seen each other naked. “Shhhh.” Sara hushes Ben. “I heard a splashes from over this way.” A distant voice calls from above them through the softening rainfall. “Down there it’s that armless fuck.” Another person laughs. Sara thinks the voice belongs to the fat zombie from across the river. “Bet he fell his stupid ass down that slope and split his head open.” The fat man laughs at the body floating just beyond arm’s reach of Sara. Soon the concerto of laughter above them drowns out the distant thunder. “Let’s go …..” Chubby the zombie says. “Those assholes lied to us. Besides I think I saw some people a few miles down the road this morning times a’ wasting it’ll be daylight soon.” For the first time since they had been captured Sara thought “It’s quite.” “Sara …” Ben wheezes his teeth chattering. “We aren’t alone in here kid.”   

 

 

 

  Well finally The Living Dark is back I am glad to say! So much has gotten in the way of Chapter 41 but it is here now and I hope it was worth the wait.

 

 

   Looks like Sara and Ben have found themselves in a bad place. By bad place I mean butt ass naked and on the run from zombies. Meanwhile Lawson and Hobart head back  to the church and their keeper The Sin Preacher.

 

 

Hope to see you all back the week of January 5th for Chapter 42. Enjoy your Christmas and New Years! See you all in 2014!

 

 

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The Living Dark