Night of the Living Dead (8 page)

She kept screaming, but not for long. Her husband sat up, his big gut jutting outward like a squeezed pillow, then flailed over onto his wife’s legs and started
chewing into
her thigh.

She cried out for help, but everyone scattered in all directions. Tom took one step forward even though he had
no idea
what he should do — his brain was still catching up with what his eyes were telling him — but Judy clamped down on his arm again.

"Tom!" she pleaded. "We have to get out of here!"

"But, the woman ... she ...
lips
!" He knew it was incoherent, but it was all he could get out.

"No, Tommy,
look
!"

He looked at her first, then followed her pointing finger.

A woman was staggering out of the lake, a blue, bloated woman who looked as though she had been under the water for far too long. Clad in a tattered swimsuit, her arms were outstretched, reaching for them — her skin was decrepit, her eyes were cloudy, and part of her nose had been chewed away.

Tom took Judy by the hand, and they ran for the car.

But they didn’t get very far.

A man in a filthy hospital gown stood next to Judy’s car. He was standing on the driver’s side, peering in through the window. His back was to Tom and Judy, and Tom could see through the flap of his gown, which was only held together by a single threadbare tie at this point, that the man had dried shit running down each leg — he had soiled himself, but hadn’t bothered to clean it up.

Tom stopped so abruptly that Judy collided with him. She squealed — she had been looking over her shoulder at the woman from the water — and cut herself off when she saw the problem.

The man wasn’t aware of them, yet. He was just staring into the car, as though admiring it, maybe considering it for purchase. If it weren’t for the gown and his state of uncleanliness, Tom would’ve had no idea anything was wrong.

"What do we do?" Judy whispered into his ear, her voice trembling.

Thunder echoed from the dark clouds Tom had seen earlier. The man glanced up for a brief moment, then returned his attention to the car. He hadn’t reacted to any of the other people as they ran screaming in all directions, fleeing in their own vehicles or on foot ... so
maybe
he would ignore them, too? Maybe they could circle around to the other side of the car, then slip in through the passenger door?

A moan wheezed out of the man. He raised his left hand — Tom could see the hospital bracelet — and pressed his palm against the car window. That was all he did, it wasn’t even threatening, really ... but something about it crushed any thought of trying to sneak past him and into the car.

Tugging Judy in another direction, Tom led her away and, thankfully, the man never realized they were there.

When they had put a respectable distance between themselves and the soiled man, Judy asked again, "Tom, what are we going to
do
?" He could tell she was near tears, but trying to keep a brave face for him.

Tom didn’t know. As the minutes passed, he was finding the whole situation
harder
to process, to deal with. He hadn’t thought before, he’d reacted — to the drowned man, to the bloated woman, to the soiled man ... all a very simple, very easy
Stay the hell away from them!

But now ... now he was running through the fields north of the lake with his girlfriend, running from the most bizarre threats he could ever have imagined, it looked like rain, it would be getting dark soon, and they had lost their car.

"Tom—!" she started again, panting as she strove to keep up with him.

"I’m
thinkin’
, honey!" he replied, his tone a little sharper than he had intended.

Judy held her peace, but she fell further and further behind him as they ran, until Tom had to choose between slowing down or leaving her. He slowed down.

"Tommy," she told him between gulps of air, "I’m scared."

"Me, too."

"We can’t keep running like this. Where are we going?"

He shook his head. "Don’t know yet. It’ll take us too long to get back to town on foot, not with those ... those weird people runnin’ around."

God,
he thought, prayed,
did she really come right out of the water like that? Was that real?

Thunder sounded again, and Judy insisted, "We need to call our folks, Tommy."

"There’s ..." He looked around. "There’s that old farmhouse not too far from here. Remember? I pointed it out to you last Thursday when we were lookin’ for—"

"I remember," she nodded.

"I
think
the old lady still lives there. It might be worth a shot. Then we could maybe borrow her phone."

"Do you really think so, Tom?"

He opened his mouth to answer, and that’s when he saw the man wandering through the field about a hundred yards away from them. That’s all he was doing, just wandering around, but after the outlandish things Tom had just seen, he was very sensitive to the man’s lurching, unsteady stride. He didn’t know what it meant, but he sure as hell didn’t like it.

Squeezing Judy’s hand tighter, he said, "We don’t have a choice, honey. We’ve gotta go. Right now."

Tom struck out for the farmhouse, and Judy followed ...

THE COOPERS

"We’re lost."

"No we’re not."

"We are
lost
, Harry."

"No, we are
not
. I know what I’m doing, Helen."

Helen Cooper shrugged. "Fine. Just make sure we have some place to stay before it gets dark."

Then she and her husband, Harry Cooper, lapsed into another cold silence.

In the backseat, their daughter, Karen, quietly read her adventure book and made no comment, no "Are we there yet?" or "I have to go the bathroom" or any of the other outbursts a normal 10-year-old would be prone to after hours of riding in a car.

Karen knew better. She knew her father, recognized his moods. She could tell from his tone of voice alone that her mother was right, that they
were
lost and he
knew
it, but would never admit it. So she remained still, calling no attention to herself, and read her book ... even though she
did
kind of have to go to the bathroom.

Helen glanced over her shoulder, as though sensing her daughter’s discomfort. Karen met her gaze and smiled — Helen smiled back, and apologized with her eyes. Her sweet little girl shrugged and went back to her reading.

Helen sighed under her breath and turned her eyes back to the road and the empty, rural setting on either side of it. She asked herself for the thousandth time: Is this
really
what’s best for Karen?

Helen and Harry Cooper had decided some time ago that they no longer wanted to be married. They each claimed to still
love
 one another, they just didn’t particularly
like
one another
anymore — Harry felt that Helen had gotten too "uppity" and aloof; Helen felt that Harry’s less-than-impressive height and premature hair-loss had made him too aggressive and antagonistic.
But Harry’s parents had gotten divorced while he was in his teens and Helen’s had done the same while she was still in elementary school, so they had discussed the matter and chosen to remain together for Karen’s sake, at least until she had graduated high school and moved on to her own life. It was a choice that many parents made, but she was learning for herself why it was an unpopular one. Karen wasn’t fooled, not for a minute, so what was the point?

"Is that ...?" Harry asked in a low voice, then muttered even lower, "Shit." He had spotted a couple of buildings, had probably hoped that one was a motel ... but no, they were just a diner and closed gas station. Helen wanted to point out that the occupants of Beekman’s Diner might be able to provide them with directions, but she saved her breath — if Harry thought it was his
own
idea, he might consider it, but not if she suggested it.

But no, they passed through the three-way intersection and kept going. Helen rolled her eyes and stared out her side window. So long as Harry found a place for them to stay before it got dark, she didn’t really care
.

To be fair, it was partly her fault, anyway. She and Karen were only in this mess because she had opted to be nice to Harry and do him a favor.

Harry’s annual sales convention had been held over this weekend — checking into the hotel on Friday evening; checking out on Sunday afternoon. While Harry had been too proud to come right out and ask her, he had dropped numerous hints about how it would "look better" for him if his entire family attended this year. Sure, it was boring as hell, but Karen had always been a well-behaved little girl, and if Harry came across as a successful "family man," it would impress his more conservative associates. Maybe make for a bonus, or even a promotion, this coming holiday season.

So after a few days of these hints and comments — and as Harry’s attitude threatened to edge into passive-aggressive sulking — Helen had "suggested" that maybe she and Karen should come along, too. Harry had been very pleased, and for the remaining weeks leading up to the sales convention, he had been almost cheery for a change.

When the weekend in question arrived, they had packed their Sunday best and driven down. The hotel was a little more expensive than expected, as had been the food and other amenities which his company was apparently
not
picking up this year, but Harry had maintained at least a neutral posture throughout.

The problems had started when Sunday morning rolled around, and it had become clear that having his family along hadn’t made quite the impression that Harry had been hoping for — no mention of bonuses, or promotions, or even new clients. Harry began to drop new hints that it was somehow
Helen’s
fault, that she had come across as too snooty, too cold ... and she’d had the audacity to look better than his boss’ wife.

Helen just gritted her teeth and took it. At least he wasn’t trying to blame Karen, and she wanted to spare her daughter from witnessing an all-out slugfest between her parents.

They had checked out of the hotel early, and Harry got it in his head that he knew a shortcut that would shave some time off their return trip. Helen had her doubts, but the truth was that Harry had made this trip more often than she, knew these roads better than she, so she kept her mouth shut ... until it was too late.