The other soldiers shifted their weight uncomfortably. They all looked at Dave then at Collins. Collins was pale but was trying to hide his fear.
“We need to get out of here captain. We will tell them it’s not clear.” Said a soldier named Ryan. His voice shook as he spoke.
“We can’t just leave our men here. We have to find them before we go anywhere.” Collins said as he looked at the path way. “Ryan, take Dave back to the village and wait for us there. As soon as we find the others we will head back to the plane.” Ryan nodded and helped Dave to his feet. Both shook as they walked back down the large path into the village.
“The rest of you will follow me on this path. We will be singing our army chants the whole way to make sure that no one disappears…” He paused. “Let’s go.” He said with about as much enthusiasm as a kid going to the dentist.
With a big sigh, Collins took his first step into the jungle. They jogged and chanted for a half an hour. Every five minutes, Collins turned to count his men. He had started this whole trip with 19 men. He was now down to twelve and two of them were back in the village. They past the three pools of blood and tried ignoring the sinking feelings in their stomachs. They ran for 45 minutes and finally Collins allowed them to stop.
“Take a break. We have to go into the jungle. We will fan out but I want everyone to stay within view of each other.” Collins said as he looked into the jungle from the small path.
“All due respect sir, I don’t think any of us want to rest. We want to find the guys and get the hell out of here.” Said Max. Collins nodded.
“Fan out.” He said. The men started to walk into the heavy foliage. Each taking out their largest knives and swinging their arms to cut down the bushes in their way. After only five minutes, one of the soldiers on the far right screamed. The others looked towards him and paused. They were frozen in fear from his blood curdling cry. Collins made his way over to the crouching soldier to see what had caused him to scream. There, under the branch of a small bush was a severed hand. It was pale, very pale, as if all the blood had been taken out. Even the cuts were bloodless. Collins used his knife to flip the hand over to see the other side. There on the wrist was a tattoo of a swallow and a date.
“Sir. Private William had that tattoo. That’s the date that his son was born.” The soldier said before he turned and threw up into another bush nearby. When the other soldiers heard about the tattoo they ran over to see the hand. They looked at it in horror. A soldier named James bent down.
“Sir, I studied forensics in college and there is something very wrong about this hand.” James said.
“No shit James, it’s a severed hand. Of course there is something wrong.” Collins replied.
“No I mean, something worse.” James said as he moved the hand around with his knife. These aren’t cut marks. They’re teeth marks. This hand was bitten off… by human teeth.” The soldiers all looked to Collins. Terror spread across his face.
“Everyone back to the path.” He said quietly. They stood up and ran back to the small winding path. Chris had gotten out front because he was the fastest runner they had. He was followed by Miller, Max and Collins and the rest followed them. As they ran through the silent jungle, they heard a small grunt and stopped running. Chris turned back to see that the soldier who had found the hand was gone. He blinked. His mind couldn’t understand how someone could just vanish. He was about to turn back and start running again when he saw a white blur rush out from the dense jungle and tackle the second to last soldier and just like that they disappeared. Chris’ eyes grew wide and he ran faster than he had ever run before. His lung burned as he finally jumped out onto the larger path.
Though he had been trained to check on his fellow soldiers, the adrenaline rush pushed him to run back to the village without turning around. He didn’t stop until he got into the center of the village. Finally, he stopped running and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. He looked back toward the path and saw Miller, Max, Collins, and two others. They stopped in front of Chris and tried to catch their breath. Chris looked around.
“Where are Dave and James?” Chris asked. Collins looked up at him then looked around, still breathing hard.
“Maybe they went back to the plane already.” Max coughed.
Chris didn’t buy it. He looked around the grassy opening and found two pools of blood. “I don’t think so.” He said pointing at the blood. The others looked at each other and then flipped their heads around.
“Get back to the plane!” Collins yelled. They stood and turned to start running back to the path they had taken into the village and that is when they saw them. Blocking the path in front of them were five very pale villagers. They stood without moving or blinking. The only color on them was the red from the blood around their mouths. Their eyes were completely black and their bodies were covered in sores. Chris looked at their feet. There was dried blood on all of their feet and their fingernails were pus green.
They stood starting. The soldiers were frozen. Terrified. Slowly, the pale villagers walked towards them. Chris watched how they moved. It was slow, clumsy movements that looked like they had lost a lot of control over their bodies.
“Well, we found the bodies…” Chris whispered. Slowly, they each pulled out their guns and rested them at their sides. “Are they…dead?” Chris asked as he quickly glanced over to Max. Max didn’t respond but his jaw hung open. The look of the villagers as they walked toward the soldiers reminded them of the little girl from the ring as she crawled out of the television. It unnerved them to the very core. Miller couldn’t take it. He started breathing heavy and pulled his gun up from his hip. He aimed it at the villager that was directly in front of him and pulled the trigger. He was a trained sniper and the bullet went right through the middle of the villager’s forehead. It fell back ward and laid on the ground twitching for a few moments then stopped moving. The other villagers stopped walking and stood frozen once more. They all set their sights on Miller. One of the villagers finally moved. One step. It took one step forward, unhinged its jaw and let out a blood curdling hiss. In that instant, they ran towards Miller. Their speed was incredible and they ran gracefully towards their victim. It was a complete contrast to how they had walked before.
Within the blink of an eye, Miller was on the ground being torn to shreds by the villagers’ teeth. Blood gushed out of everywhere and pooled below his body. The other soldiers backed away and watched the feeding frenzy. They couldn’t believe what was happening. Their fellow soldier was being eaten alive in front of them. No sounds would come out of their mouths.
Collins was the first to come out of shock enough to tell them to get to the plane. Quietly, he whispered “Move out.” And slowly the men backed away. When they felt they were far enough they turned and ran down the path. As they ran, they looked around them and they could see the black eyes and white faces of the undead villagers. Chris was in front. He stopped looking around and ran as fast as he could towards the plane. He heard two familiar grunts behind him and dared not look back. Finally, he saw the clearing where they had left the plane. He kicked his speed up even faster though his legs burned like acid.
He didn’t stop until he had run up the cargo ramp and was inside the plane. He turned to see Max and Collins behind him. “Run!” Chris yelled. He knew that yelling wouldn’t help them but he couldn’t stop himself. He felt helpless and terrified. Max was running behind Collins, limping with each stride. Chris watched him and willed him to move faster but he didn’t. Right on his tail was one of the undead villagers with tem more behind it. Chris watched as they gained on his best friend. He watched as they tackled him. He heard Max’s cry out. He saw the red blood spread out under the pile of cannibalistic undead. Collins was still in the clear and Chris hoped that the devouring of his best friend would be enough of a distraction for Collins to make it to the plane. As Collins made his first step onto the plane ramp Chris saw a blur and Collins was gone. Chris ran to the middle o
f the ramp only to see a group of twenty undead villagers running towards him.
“Go! Tell them what happened. Go now!” Chris heard Collins say before the undead villagers sunk in their blood covered teeth. Chris watched as Collins was ripped apart and his flesh was ripped off his bones. He heard the sounds of teeth ripping open his throat and nails ripping open his stomach. In one moment he felt two very contradicting things. How could he leave when all of his fellow soldiers had died there? How could he leave them? But… How could he stay?
He didn’t move. The internal battle waged and he was lost in the shock of the horrors he had seen. But then one of the ravenous undead looked up from Collins’ mangled corpse and looked Chris dead in the eye. Chris felt his blood run cold. He turned and started to run up the ramp toward the large button that would close the belly of the plane. But the undead villager was right behind him and followed by two more. They were quick and met him when he was only three quarters of the way up the ramp. Chris whipped out his gun and shot one in the head and if tumbled back down the ramp and onto the grass by the rest of the undead. They turned to face Chris and let out hisses and moans. Chris then aimed his gun at the undead closest to him and managed to land a bullet in his chest. The white villager stopped for a moment and Chris watched to make sure he fell to the ground like the other one had.
But the undead just hissed and started towards him. Chris knew he needed to move. He needed to get closer to the button. He ran as fast as he could, hearing the heavy thumping steps behind him. He turned and pulled the trigger once more, hitting one in the head. It fell to the ground and slowly rolled down the ramp toward the other body. Chris heard more hissing but he didn’t have time to look at the group of angry villagers. He bounded toward the wall that held the hatch button and turned. The third undead villager was right behind him. In less than a second, the undead villager had thrown out his arms and shoved Chris against the metal wall. Chris felt the sting of pain flow through his back. He saw the white villager up close. He could smell the blood on his breath and it mixed with the rotting scent that came from the undead villager’s skin.
The undead was waxy looking. Like it was sweating. Its eyes never blinked as it threw its hands out to scrape Chris. Chris’ adrenaline went into over drive. He moved quicker than he ever had before in his life. He jumped out just out of reach then sent a front kick into the chest of the undead with the greatest force he could muster. The villager stumbled back then hissed. It jumped back with its teeth gnawing at the air and landed right in front of Chris, sinking its teeth into his forearm. The pain was excruciating but Chris’ mind was clear and in survival mode. As the Zombie bit into his arm, he used his other to pull up his gun and shoot the undead in the head. Instantly, it fell to the ground. It twitched for a moment then became still. Using what was left of his adrenaline, Chris quickly hit the button to close the ramp and then threw the body out to a group of hissing villagers.
He saw them try to climb onto the closing ramp. He saw white arms and legs through the cracks. Once he heard the familiar thud of the ramp closing, he ran to the cockpit. He silently thanked Collins for forcing him to take flying lessons for the past two years even though he had hated flying. He hit all the switches and heard the plane hum to life. As he checked all of his levels and metrics he heard loud thuds against the sides of the plane. He knew the undead were hitting it, still trying to get in. He buckled his seatbelt, as he had a thousand times and started to turn the plane so he could take off over the nearby cliff. He knew that was his fastest way of getting in the air. As he turned, he looked out the large windows in front of him. He listened as the thudding sounds moved along the side of the plane. Then he saw the white limbs of the undead. They were climbing on top of the plane. If they got to the windows, they could break them and Chris would be stuck there. He tried to swing the plane around to shake them off but they held on tight. His best bet would be to take off and have them fall off from the immense speed.
He looked ahead. He had just enough land before the cliff to get enough momentum but only if he floored it. He said a silent prayer. The first prayer he had said in many years. Then he put on his head set and pushed the wheel forward. The engine roared, drowning out the sounds of the thudding. And then he was going. He was bumbling across the uneven grassy plain towards the cliff. He pushed forward as hard as he could. To his horror, the undead had made it onto the nose of the plane and were making their way to the glass. Just as he reached the cliff, one of the undead had his fist pulled back ready to strike the glass. The plane rolled off and dove towards the sea below. Chris pulled up as hard as he could watching all the undead villagers fall off the front of the plane.
Sirens were buzzing and beeping as he plummeted towards the sea. He pulled up with all his might, ignoring the pain of the bite in his forearm. Just before he hit the water, the plane leveled out and he pulled up. With a sigh of relief he climbed in altitude and set his trajectory to Okinawa. Once he was at his cruising altitude he left the cockpit to find a bandage for his arm. In the first aid kit he found bandages and rubbing alcohol. He brought them back to the cock pit and sat down in one of the chairs. He took off his army jacket and saw his would for the first time. It was a deep bite but the weird part was that it wasn’t swollen or red. It just looked like someone had bitten him and his body hadn’t reacted. He bit down on the sleeve of his thick jacket and pour the rubbing alcohol over his arm. To his surprise there was little pain. He bandaged his arm and returned to the pilot’s seat. For the duration of his flight, he did everything he could to not think of what he had just seen. The memories flashed through his brain despite his best efforts and he went through waves of crying, screaming in horror and feeling numb.
Finally, he saw the little island he called home. He had hoped that it would bring him relief but he felt only small reassurance. As he neared their airspace he was greeted by the air traffic control tower.
“Hey boys welcome back.” Said a cheery unknowing voice over the headset.
“This is Chris Muscovy from Unit 311 requesting emergency landing.” Chris said as clearly as he could.
“Oh…” The voice responded, surprised by his request. “Landing strip two is cleared for you. You are a go for emergency landing.”
Chris always hated this part. Landing had always given him a nervous feeling but now, he felt nothing. He landed the plane as he had a hundred times but this time with no fear. When he pulled the plane to a stop, he just sat there. He didn’t move, he didn’t rush to get off the plane. What was he going to say? What would he tell them about the other men?
Finally the ramp opened and four soldiers came in. They looked around for other passengers before approaching him.
“Where are the others?” They asked. Chris just sat there. The soldiers noticed his bandaged arm and decided to leave him there. They went back to base camp to get one of the sergeants. The man that Collins had been in contact with came back out with two medics. They approached Chris slowly.
“Chris… We are going to take you to the infirmary and while the medics look you over, you can tell me what happened ok?” The Sergeant said soothingly. When Chris didn’t move, the medics looked at each other then they looked at the sergeant. He nodded and they stepped forward to each side of Chris to help him up. As soon as they touched him he screamed and jumped up. The medics were startled and jumped back. Chris turned to face the Sergeant.
“It’s ok now, Chris, you’re safe.” He said. Chris was breathing heavy and there was panic in his eyes. One of the medics stepped up behind him and stuck a needle in his back. It was a sedative. Within seconds, Chris slunk back in the chair and the medics were able to carry him to a wheel chair that sat at the bottom of the ramp. As they wheeled him away, the sergeant noticed the dents in the side of the plane that had been made by the villagers.
When Chris came to, he was in his own room in the infirmary. He blinked and looked around at the pale green walls and the two way mirror that were directly in front
of him. He felt exhausted. The adrenaline had left his body raw and every muscle felt heavy. Every muscle except for those near the bite in his arm. His arm had a new bandage on it and he traced it with his other hand. Then, he adjusted his bed so he was in more of a seated position. Just then, the door opened and the same sergeant walked in.
“Chris. I know you are very tired but I need to know what happened. Where are the others?” The sergeant asked. Chris looked down. He didn’t want to talk about what he had seen but he knew they needed to know so that they could do something to get rid of those haunting creatures.
“At first, we just saw blood. Large pools of it. Then we saw human foot prints. We looked for the bodies but we couldn’t find any. We went into the jungle and that’s when… that’s when they started disappearing.” He said as he started to shake.
“Who disappeared?” The sergeant asked.
“The other soldiers. We split into groups of four. One never came back. We sent in another group to get them. Only one came back, he was out of his mind. Then we all went in. We found the pools of blood and the foot prints and then… a hand.” He stopped. He could see it so clearly. Clear as if he was still back in that jungle. “It was completely white and there was no blood in it. But it had a tattoo on it and we knew it was one of the missing soldiers… the worst part…” He paused, feeling very sick. “There were human bite marks on it. We ran as fast as we could but by time we got back to the village there were only a few of us left. That’s when we saw them.”
Our Dead Bodies [Anthology] Page 14
