HERE LIES: NO ONE [06]
VOTING HAS FINISHED FOR THIS CHAPTER!
Last weeks vote:
>Do you think the two fused zeeks are a sign of upcoming mutations? yes 87% no 13%
>Will the group of adults prove to be trouble? Yes 95% No 5%
>With the QZ no longer an option, what will Raf's group do next?
> Go to the airport where survivors are rumored to be 34%
>Stay in the rich neighborhood until food runs out 12%
>Try to escape the valley somehow 54%
>Do you think the two fused zeeks are a sign of upcoming mutations? yes 87% no 13%
>Will the group of adults prove to be trouble? Yes 95% No 5%
>With the QZ no longer an option, what will Raf's group do next?
> Go to the airport where survivors are rumored to be 34%
>Stay in the rich neighborhood until food runs out 12%
>Try to escape the valley somehow 54%
Chapter Six: The Undead Troop
-Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall, his zombified body rose again, and consumed us one and all.-
-satirical poem hastily scribbled on a metro station door, below that:
-I wish I had a burger.-
“The fingernails are in my brain! Scratching! Scratching! Scratching!”
Tyler opened his eyes and sat up. The voice; had that been his scoutmaster Zito? Hayden and his brother Austin both looked at him and shook their heads, indicating he shouldn’t speak. Behind them, the three other scouts huddled together in terror.
“Inside! Munching and crunching! I can’t take it!”
Tyler could see Zito’s reflection on the rear-view mirror. Fevered and purple. Veins stuck out from his cheeks and forehead and sweat poured into the man’s eyes as he drove. Zito wiped his face and gave a twitch. Tyler didn’t recognize the landscape. Some sort of dirt trail. They had gone back the way they’d come through the canyon pass and turned down some foreign path. All to escape that scene back on the highway and to leave behind Whiting’s body. Tyler doubted Zito was coherent enough to even know where they were now.
The van gave a swerve as Zito moaned and shivered.
“No more! No more! Alright, you win! I’ll let you sandman! Put me to sleep sandman! Saaaandman! Sandman, sandman, sandman!”
Zito slammed on the brakes and the scouts jolted forward. The van created a dust cloud that swirled past their windows as they rolled to a stop in front of a calm meadow. Birch trees swayed around them in the breeze. None of the scouts spoke, too afraid of how Zito would react. There was something clearly wrong with the scoutmaster. He was sick. Really sick. Tyler saw the large gaping bite-mark on Zito’s forearm. Purple and black; it looked both swollen and angry. Pus drizzled out of it.
The scoutmaster yanked open the door, leaving the keys in the ignition, and collapsed onto the dirt. He pushed himself to his feet and wobbled drunkenly into the meadow. Off he went among the tall grass, stumbling and falling.
“What do we do?” Austin asked Tyler, his voice quivering. His older brother Hayden patted his back and gave Tyler a nod.
“What do you think?”
Tyler licked his lips, unsure of how to answer. If only his older brother Alex was around, he would know what to do. In the distance, Zito fell into the grass, his body disappearing. He didn’t get up. All the scouts perked up, spines tingling. They couldn’t lose Zito! He was their only adult! Their only supervisor. The only person who knew how to get them back home!
One of the scouts, Quinn, made a move to open the back door.
“Don’t!” Hayden hissed.
Tyler couldn’t see any movement in the tall grass, just glimpses of a still figure. Quinn opened the door and jumped out. The red-headed boy hesitated near the van, holding his hands together closely to his chest.
“Mister Zito?” the scout asked with a tremor.
Tyler had the sudden feeling to grab Quinn and run. Hide and cower. But he didn’t. Quinn took a few hesitant steps out into the meadow, leaving the dirt trail. The distant form laying in the grass moved slightly.
“Mister Zito, are you alright?”
Quinn took a few more steps into the tall grass, the vegetation going all the way up to his belly button. Hayden reached across Tyler and opened his door. “Quinn!” he hissed. He nudged Tyler to also call out to their fellow scout.
“Quinn, come back!”
The form in the grass sat up, facing away from them. Zito rested on his haunches, still as stone. Quinn moved forward, crossing the last few meters and coming to a stop right beside the man. The scene felt almost dreamlike. The grass swayed, bringing in the smell of fresh flowers. The birch trees shushed at them in the breeze. There was a bird call in the distance. Zito turned and grabbed Quinn, ripping into the boy’s neck with a violent thrust of gnashing teeth. Blood sprayed out in an arc, painting the wildlife in vivid maroon. The two forms collapsed into the grass, Zito on top; disappearing from view.
The scouts in the van screamed in horror, slamming the doors shut and huddling in the center of the vehicle.
“My neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—”
It was Quinn’s voice, shrill and gurgling. Tyler could see his arms and legs flaying into the air, half-hidden by the vegetation. Zito held him down, crouching over the boy.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecc—”
Zito was moving furiously, arms tearing and grabbing; snarls and groans coming from his labored form.
“cccccccccccccckkkkkkk!”
Quinn’s voice faded out and his limbs collapsed into the grass like a life-less puppet.
“We have to get out of here!” Hayden shrieked. “Someone get us out of here!”
Tyler was a blur of motion, shoving and pushing his way over the scouts as he hopped into the front seat. His mind raced, trying to remember how to drive. He wasn’t even competent at it; didn’t even have his license yet. He’d been starting to learn the week before they’d gone on this over-extended camping trip. He grasped the keys, pushing down on the brake petal and turning the ignition. His opposing hand slammed into the van horn by accident and a honk sounded out. Zito’s form froze and turned their way. Tyler could see blood waterfalling out of the man’s half-opened mouth. A chunk of some kind dropped from between his teeth.
The van came to life and the engine roared. Zito stood and came running towards them, an unholy screech escaping his blood-soaked face. His hands reached out in wanting. Tyler pressed on the gas and heard the engine rev. Nothing happened. Stupid! He had to switch out of Parking into Reverse!
He grabbed the gearstick and pulled it into its correct location. He hit the gas and the van lurched backwards, moving faster than Tyler had anticipated. There was a crunch that violently shook the scouts and the van stopped moving. Tyler’s head hit the steering wheel, causing the horn to go off again. Zito let out a howl as reply. Tyler had overdone it and driven backwards into a tree. He desperately grasped the gearstick and switched it to Drive. The scouts behind him were yelling in panic, begging him to hurry. Zito had made it out of the meadow and was charging across the dirt path.
Tyler hit the gas and the van shot forward, clipping Zito across the side and sending the man flying into the bushes and out of sight. Tyler was too distracted, to terrified and panicked. He didn’t have time to dodge the incoming tree.
With a groan, Tyler opened his eyes and pulled his face away from the steering wheel. Around him the other scouts were beginning to stir. He’d been knocked out for less than a minute but felt as if coming out of a coma. He could feel blood tricking in his hair. His neck pulsed in pain. The ringing in his ears subsided and he finally heard the ripping. The wet tearing and crunching. Tyler shot up in his seat and turned.
The back of the van had spilled wide open and had deposited one of the scouts, Jacob, onto the dirt path. The boy was definitely dead; his neck snapped so violently, bones protruded from his skin. Quinn’s disfigured form hunched over the other scout, digging into his open flesh. Tyler’s mouth opened in silent horror as Quinn looked up, a gaping hole where his jugular once was and stared back at him with gray dead eyes. The dead boy stood up, swaying in place. There was movement in the bushes behind him and Zito appeared, his jaw nearly torn off. The scoutmaster’s tongue wobbled weakly and he let out a wet gurgle. The two began to shuffle towards the van.
Tyler spun back around and put the van into Reverse. Thank the heaven’s above the vehicle was still functional. Tyler hit the gas and the van peeled away from the tree they had crushed. The vehicle flew backwards and smashed into Quinn, causing the boy to first flip into the back of the open van, then slide out and be swallowed up by the tires. There was a jolt as Tyler ran him over. He switched into Drive and felt the tires reverse-spin. The vehicle launched the other way. Behind him, he could see Jacob sitting up, his head hanging crookedly on his broken neck as his vacant eyes stared after the van. Quinn was already standing and hobbling after them, his leg dragging behind him. Zito walked between the two boys like a loving father-figure, now scoutmaster to an undead troop.
Tyler turned away and vowed to never look back.
The van eventually gave out. The gas had all gone and left the four remaining scouts stranded on a long, lone country road in the middle of nowhere. Flat landscape stretched out for miles in every direction, partially hidden by tall rows of corn to either side. Farmland.
Tyler stepped out of the vehicle and caught the backpack tossed towards him by Hayden. They shouldered their packs and looked about.
“What do we do now?” Hayden asked, his voice wobbling. “We don’t know which way is home.”
Tyler licked his lips and stared in every direction. No way they’d go from they’d come. He didn’t much like the idea of wandering through the fields of corn either. He followed the road forward as far as he could see. Far, far in the distance he could make out mountains. Blue and shadowed. The looked safe. They definitely looked a lot cooler than the road they stood on, the sun beating down on their heads.
Tyler pointed forward and the four scouts began to walk, leaving behind their mangled van which had taken then across so much. They walked for miles, feet pounding along the hot asphalt. Tyler didn’t speak much, instead he listened to the occasional whisper communicated between the others.
It’s hot. You hot?
Man, I hope my family’s okay.
I can’t believe that Zito--
Shut up. Don’t talk about that.
The sun made their pack-straps chafe against their sweaty skin and added to the discomfort. Sweat collected along the small of their backs and dripped into their eyes, stinging them. Finally, Tyler called a break and they sat at the edge of the road in the shade of the corn. While Austin and Mason pulled out some water and leftover rabbit another scoutmaster had caught nearly a week ago back in Camp Stubborn, Tyler and Hayden went off into the field, searching for anything they could find useful. They came across a pile rubbish in a small clearing containing rakes, scarecrows, and rusted metal. They selected a few long wooden poles and using their pocketknives, carved them into crude spears. They made their way back and handed the makeshift weapons around.
Feeling a little safer, Tyler and the others sat and ate their meager meal, remembering days long past where they could eat as much as they wanted to back at their family dinner tables. Tyler took a swig of creek water from his bottle and stared at the mountains, wondering what lay in store for them there.
He was distracted, and it took him a split-moment longer than the rest to react when rotting hands reached out through the cornstalks and yanked Mason backwards. The scout disappeared with a small scream that only lasted a fraction of a second. Zeeks by the dozens poured out from the fields, hands reaching, mouths clacking. Their dead eyes surrounded Tyler with a hungry look that could not be satisfied.
-satirical poem hastily scribbled on a metro station door, below that:
-I wish I had a burger.-
“The fingernails are in my brain! Scratching! Scratching! Scratching!”
Tyler opened his eyes and sat up. The voice; had that been his scoutmaster Zito? Hayden and his brother Austin both looked at him and shook their heads, indicating he shouldn’t speak. Behind them, the three other scouts huddled together in terror.
“Inside! Munching and crunching! I can’t take it!”
Tyler could see Zito’s reflection on the rear-view mirror. Fevered and purple. Veins stuck out from his cheeks and forehead and sweat poured into the man’s eyes as he drove. Zito wiped his face and gave a twitch. Tyler didn’t recognize the landscape. Some sort of dirt trail. They had gone back the way they’d come through the canyon pass and turned down some foreign path. All to escape that scene back on the highway and to leave behind Whiting’s body. Tyler doubted Zito was coherent enough to even know where they were now.
The van gave a swerve as Zito moaned and shivered.
“No more! No more! Alright, you win! I’ll let you sandman! Put me to sleep sandman! Saaaandman! Sandman, sandman, sandman!”
Zito slammed on the brakes and the scouts jolted forward. The van created a dust cloud that swirled past their windows as they rolled to a stop in front of a calm meadow. Birch trees swayed around them in the breeze. None of the scouts spoke, too afraid of how Zito would react. There was something clearly wrong with the scoutmaster. He was sick. Really sick. Tyler saw the large gaping bite-mark on Zito’s forearm. Purple and black; it looked both swollen and angry. Pus drizzled out of it.
The scoutmaster yanked open the door, leaving the keys in the ignition, and collapsed onto the dirt. He pushed himself to his feet and wobbled drunkenly into the meadow. Off he went among the tall grass, stumbling and falling.
“What do we do?” Austin asked Tyler, his voice quivering. His older brother Hayden patted his back and gave Tyler a nod.
“What do you think?”
Tyler licked his lips, unsure of how to answer. If only his older brother Alex was around, he would know what to do. In the distance, Zito fell into the grass, his body disappearing. He didn’t get up. All the scouts perked up, spines tingling. They couldn’t lose Zito! He was their only adult! Their only supervisor. The only person who knew how to get them back home!
One of the scouts, Quinn, made a move to open the back door.
“Don’t!” Hayden hissed.
Tyler couldn’t see any movement in the tall grass, just glimpses of a still figure. Quinn opened the door and jumped out. The red-headed boy hesitated near the van, holding his hands together closely to his chest.
“Mister Zito?” the scout asked with a tremor.
Tyler had the sudden feeling to grab Quinn and run. Hide and cower. But he didn’t. Quinn took a few hesitant steps out into the meadow, leaving the dirt trail. The distant form laying in the grass moved slightly.
“Mister Zito, are you alright?”
Quinn took a few more steps into the tall grass, the vegetation going all the way up to his belly button. Hayden reached across Tyler and opened his door. “Quinn!” he hissed. He nudged Tyler to also call out to their fellow scout.
“Quinn, come back!”
The form in the grass sat up, facing away from them. Zito rested on his haunches, still as stone. Quinn moved forward, crossing the last few meters and coming to a stop right beside the man. The scene felt almost dreamlike. The grass swayed, bringing in the smell of fresh flowers. The birch trees shushed at them in the breeze. There was a bird call in the distance. Zito turned and grabbed Quinn, ripping into the boy’s neck with a violent thrust of gnashing teeth. Blood sprayed out in an arc, painting the wildlife in vivid maroon. The two forms collapsed into the grass, Zito on top; disappearing from view.
The scouts in the van screamed in horror, slamming the doors shut and huddling in the center of the vehicle.
“My neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—”
It was Quinn’s voice, shrill and gurgling. Tyler could see his arms and legs flaying into the air, half-hidden by the vegetation. Zito held him down, crouching over the boy.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecc—”
Zito was moving furiously, arms tearing and grabbing; snarls and groans coming from his labored form.
“cccccccccccccckkkkkkk!”
Quinn’s voice faded out and his limbs collapsed into the grass like a life-less puppet.
“We have to get out of here!” Hayden shrieked. “Someone get us out of here!”
Tyler was a blur of motion, shoving and pushing his way over the scouts as he hopped into the front seat. His mind raced, trying to remember how to drive. He wasn’t even competent at it; didn’t even have his license yet. He’d been starting to learn the week before they’d gone on this over-extended camping trip. He grasped the keys, pushing down on the brake petal and turning the ignition. His opposing hand slammed into the van horn by accident and a honk sounded out. Zito’s form froze and turned their way. Tyler could see blood waterfalling out of the man’s half-opened mouth. A chunk of some kind dropped from between his teeth.
The van came to life and the engine roared. Zito stood and came running towards them, an unholy screech escaping his blood-soaked face. His hands reached out in wanting. Tyler pressed on the gas and heard the engine rev. Nothing happened. Stupid! He had to switch out of Parking into Reverse!
He grabbed the gearstick and pulled it into its correct location. He hit the gas and the van lurched backwards, moving faster than Tyler had anticipated. There was a crunch that violently shook the scouts and the van stopped moving. Tyler’s head hit the steering wheel, causing the horn to go off again. Zito let out a howl as reply. Tyler had overdone it and driven backwards into a tree. He desperately grasped the gearstick and switched it to Drive. The scouts behind him were yelling in panic, begging him to hurry. Zito had made it out of the meadow and was charging across the dirt path.
Tyler hit the gas and the van shot forward, clipping Zito across the side and sending the man flying into the bushes and out of sight. Tyler was too distracted, to terrified and panicked. He didn’t have time to dodge the incoming tree.
With a groan, Tyler opened his eyes and pulled his face away from the steering wheel. Around him the other scouts were beginning to stir. He’d been knocked out for less than a minute but felt as if coming out of a coma. He could feel blood tricking in his hair. His neck pulsed in pain. The ringing in his ears subsided and he finally heard the ripping. The wet tearing and crunching. Tyler shot up in his seat and turned.
The back of the van had spilled wide open and had deposited one of the scouts, Jacob, onto the dirt path. The boy was definitely dead; his neck snapped so violently, bones protruded from his skin. Quinn’s disfigured form hunched over the other scout, digging into his open flesh. Tyler’s mouth opened in silent horror as Quinn looked up, a gaping hole where his jugular once was and stared back at him with gray dead eyes. The dead boy stood up, swaying in place. There was movement in the bushes behind him and Zito appeared, his jaw nearly torn off. The scoutmaster’s tongue wobbled weakly and he let out a wet gurgle. The two began to shuffle towards the van.
Tyler spun back around and put the van into Reverse. Thank the heaven’s above the vehicle was still functional. Tyler hit the gas and the van peeled away from the tree they had crushed. The vehicle flew backwards and smashed into Quinn, causing the boy to first flip into the back of the open van, then slide out and be swallowed up by the tires. There was a jolt as Tyler ran him over. He switched into Drive and felt the tires reverse-spin. The vehicle launched the other way. Behind him, he could see Jacob sitting up, his head hanging crookedly on his broken neck as his vacant eyes stared after the van. Quinn was already standing and hobbling after them, his leg dragging behind him. Zito walked between the two boys like a loving father-figure, now scoutmaster to an undead troop.
Tyler turned away and vowed to never look back.
The van eventually gave out. The gas had all gone and left the four remaining scouts stranded on a long, lone country road in the middle of nowhere. Flat landscape stretched out for miles in every direction, partially hidden by tall rows of corn to either side. Farmland.
Tyler stepped out of the vehicle and caught the backpack tossed towards him by Hayden. They shouldered their packs and looked about.
“What do we do now?” Hayden asked, his voice wobbling. “We don’t know which way is home.”
Tyler licked his lips and stared in every direction. No way they’d go from they’d come. He didn’t much like the idea of wandering through the fields of corn either. He followed the road forward as far as he could see. Far, far in the distance he could make out mountains. Blue and shadowed. The looked safe. They definitely looked a lot cooler than the road they stood on, the sun beating down on their heads.
Tyler pointed forward and the four scouts began to walk, leaving behind their mangled van which had taken then across so much. They walked for miles, feet pounding along the hot asphalt. Tyler didn’t speak much, instead he listened to the occasional whisper communicated between the others.
It’s hot. You hot?
Man, I hope my family’s okay.
I can’t believe that Zito--
Shut up. Don’t talk about that.
The sun made their pack-straps chafe against their sweaty skin and added to the discomfort. Sweat collected along the small of their backs and dripped into their eyes, stinging them. Finally, Tyler called a break and they sat at the edge of the road in the shade of the corn. While Austin and Mason pulled out some water and leftover rabbit another scoutmaster had caught nearly a week ago back in Camp Stubborn, Tyler and Hayden went off into the field, searching for anything they could find useful. They came across a pile rubbish in a small clearing containing rakes, scarecrows, and rusted metal. They selected a few long wooden poles and using their pocketknives, carved them into crude spears. They made their way back and handed the makeshift weapons around.
Feeling a little safer, Tyler and the others sat and ate their meager meal, remembering days long past where they could eat as much as they wanted to back at their family dinner tables. Tyler took a swig of creek water from his bottle and stared at the mountains, wondering what lay in store for them there.
He was distracted, and it took him a split-moment longer than the rest to react when rotting hands reached out through the cornstalks and yanked Mason backwards. The scout disappeared with a small scream that only lasted a fraction of a second. Zeeks by the dozens poured out from the fields, hands reaching, mouths clacking. Their dead eyes surrounded Tyler with a hungry look that could not be satisfied.
