Night of the Living Dead (7 page)

The real "problem," of course, was that Tom was an honest, nice guy —
too
nice for his own good, his pals were fond of telling him. He knew deep inside that if he were to press Judy, really press her on the subject, she probably would have given in by now.

But ... again, Tom was a nice guy. And he was already feeling guilty for having pushed her as far as he had this afternoon.

"Did you find out if you can get next Saturday off?" Judy asked, changing the subject with an ease that he found both endearing and annoying.

"Don’t know yet, but ... probably not. Saturdays are big days at the garage."

Judy smiled. "Can’t they spare you for the afternoon?"

"I’ll try again. But they let me take off last month for the fair in Willard, so ..." He made a vague gesture of defeat.

She sighed in disappointment, then smiled again. "I understand."

Warmed by her mellow reaction, he caressed her cheek. "You always smile for me."

She snuggled her face against his palm. "Always."

"Do you think your folks’ll be upset?"

"They’ll be disappointed, sure, but Dad’ll respect you for it."

Tom grinned. "Finally winnin’ the old man over, huh?"

Judy giggled, then scooted back over to her side of the car.
Her
car, really, but Tom always drove. That just seemed like the proper thing to do, since he did not have a car of his own — yet. Truth be told, that was another reason he was a little reluctant to ask for Saturday off. He wanted to please Judy’s father, but he really needed the work
and
the overtime that Saturdays at the garage often brought. If he could squirrel away just a few extra dollars this month, he might be able to finally make a down-payment on that used Mustang he’d had his eye on forever-and-a-day!

"Are we still going swimming?" Judy asked.

"Hmm?" he murmured, distracted by daydreams of picking Judy up in his bright red muscle car.

She gestured toward the south side of Ridley Hill, then glanced at the sun sinking lower in the west. "It’s later than I thought." She giggled again, but made no direct comment on
why
it was later. "Do you still want to head down to the lake?" And her big smile told him that she was hoping for a Yes.

Tom glanced at his watch. "Sure, Smiley, why not?" Thoughts of muscle cars had failed to relieve the pressure in his groin, but a cold dip in the lake just might do the trick. Unless Judy brought her bikini instead of her one-piece, in which case he was in even more trouble.

As Tom started the engine and turned around to drive back down the hill, he spotted some thunderheads creeping across the horizon. Between the late hour and the possibility of rain, he might have voted to cancel their swim after all, but he didn’t want to disappoint Judy.

Without even thinking about it, he reached over and turned on the radio. But instead of music, all that came out of the speakers was static.

"That’s funny," Judy commented. She reached out to try another station.

"Give it a second," Tom suggested, "maybe it’s just warmin’ up or something. Has it given you any problems before?"

"No, not really."

"Huh ..."

They drove in silence for a minute, Tom navigating around toward the lake. He was watching the road, so it was Judy who spotted the commotion. "Something’s going on over there."

"Where? By the lake?"

"Yeah ..." She squinted, then said, "It looks like they’re pulling somebody out of the water. I hope he’s all right."

"Me, too."

The radio static flared louder, then ceased altogether. "
Is that it? You got it?
" they heard the diskjockey say, his voice muffled as though he were facing away from the microphone.

Tom and Judy exchanged a confused glance. Something about that unprofessional snippet, the shaken tone of the man on the air, seemed somehow ... eerie.

"
Uh, ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for these interruptions ... we are, uh, we’re experiencing technical difficulties with the power here ... again, we apologize and will continue to, well, we’ll try to remain on the air as long as possible ...
"

"Tommy, what is this?" Judy asked.

He shook his head. "Don’t know."

"
If you’re just tuning in,
" the diskjockey said, "
it is vital that you pay close attention. According to reports from all over the county, and some are now coming in from the entire tri-state area, we are experiencing an epidemic of unexplained mass-murder.
"

The proclamation was so unexpected, so outrageous, that Tom actually laughed out loud. "What?!" he guffawed.

"Shh!" Judy leaned forward in her seat.

"
What we first dismissed as hysteria can no longer be denied. We have confirmed the accuracy of many of these reports with local police and sheriff departments; the murders
are
real, and they are taking place as we speak. We—
" Another burst of static overwhelmed the man’s voice. A second later they caught one more word — Tom thought it might have been "safety" — and then the speakers settled down to the softer static they had first heard, with no transmission coming through.

"Tom, what was
that
?" Judy asked, her voice stringent.

"A joke, honey, it had to be."

"They don’t joke about stuff like that on the radio."

"Sure they do!" he laughed, but it sounded forced even to his own ears. "Remember last April Fools’ Day? They talked about—"

"It’s not April Fool— Oh, my God."

Having been distracted by the bizarre announcement on the radio, Tom hadn’t realized that they had reached the lake. Now that they were closer, they could see that a man had, in fact, been dragged from the water and was now lying unconscious (or worse) on his back while a woman tried to resuscitate him.

"Do you think they need help?" Judy asked.

"Not sure what we can do," Tom said, but she was already opening the passenger door before they’d rolled to a complete stop. Sighing at how this day was turning out, Tom put the car in
Park
and got out with her.

A handful of people, all in swimwear, were standing around the drowned man, fidgeting with the same indecision Tom felt. The guy was overweight, with a
huge
gut and barrel chest, and Tom couldn’t help wondering if the woman’s pumping on his chest was at all effective.

"Come on, Gerald!" she shouted. "Wake up! Breathe! Please breathe!" She moved to his head, pinching his nose and blowing into his mouth.

"What happened?" Judy whispered to a teenage boy when they got close enough.

The boy shrugged. "Mister Levin just started screaming out there in the water." He gestured, listless. "Guess he got a cramp or somethin’. Went under the water before anyone could reach him. Wasn’t moving by the time his wife brought him in." Then he added with pride, "I helped her drag ‘im out of the water."

"Has anyone gone for help?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I think so." He gestured again, back the way from which Tom and Judy had just arrived.

Tom started to point out that he’d seen no car pass them by ... but then, he’d been so distracted by the "mass-murder" thing on the radio, he might’ve just missed it, somehow.

The drowned man’s wife stopped blowing into his mouth and went back to pumping on his chest. She was crying now, but didn’t let up. "Come on, Gerald. Don’t be so goddamn stubborn, now. Wake up!"

Judy reached out and took Tom’s hand. He clasped it back out of habit, but his attention was focused elsewhere.

None of the others were
paying it any mind, but Tom’s eyes were drawn to a hideous wound on Mister Levin’s left calf. It was down toward the ankle, and since he was lying on his back, it wasn’t all that visible, but it looked like a
chunk
had been taken right out of him, like the world’s worst dog bite! It might explain why he started screaming and then drowned in the first place, but for the life of him, Tom couldn’t think of what might cause such a wound in this lake. What, did someone stock it with
piranha
or something?

A long, dark trail of blood slithered from the man’s calf back out into the water. Somehow, that turned Tom’s stomach more than his obstructed view of the wound itself.

Then Mister Levin’s hand twitched, followed a moment later by his jaw clenching.

"Oh, thank God!" his wife cried. A couple of people applauded, including Judy. "But you have to
breathe
, Gerry! Spit that dirty ol’ lake water out for me."

Switching back to his head, she leaned in to puff more air into his lungs. As she did, her husband kicked his legs once, then lifted one arm up and around his wife’s neck, as if to hug her ...

Then
she
started screaming.

Everyone jolted, but no one moved or even said anything — no one had any idea what the hell was going on!

The woman tried to pull back, her screams muffled and gurgling. Even though her husband’s arm fell away easily enough, she couldn’t seem to straighten up at first. And when she finally did, Tom wished she hadn’t.

She threw herself back, falling over onto her butt, still screaming. Her mouth was a horrid, bloody mess.

Her husband had bitten her lips off.

Tom’s heart shot into his throat, and Judy’s hand clamped down like a vice on his bicep.

Good God, he wasn’t
really
 seeing this, was he?
Was he
?

"Holy
shit
!" the teenage boy cried, and similar sentiments erupted from everyone present. Another boy, this one around ten years old, turned white as a sheet and a dark stain of urine spread out across the front of his denim cutoffs.

The wife’s upper lip was almost entirely gone; her lower lip hung loose down her chin, dangling like a worm from a fishhook. She held her hands up to her face but fell short of actually touching the shocking injury.